Talulah Artorius. An Infected, the leader of Reunion, and currently the mayor of the newly built Infected city of New Chernogob. Throughout the continent, she was widely recognized as a prominent figure.
While many political analysts in Victoria secretly speculated that she was merely a puppet controlled by the Tsar of Ursus—given how exceptionally close the relations between Ursus and Reunion had grown, a stark contrast to the empire's historically brutal oppression of the Infected—none of that truly mattered at this precise moment.
What truly mattered was her surname.
Artorius.
The surname of the Draco royal family, a bloodline that was supposed to have been entirely wiped out in Victoria!
What was such a person doing slipping back into Victorian territory right now? Standing in the quiet warehouse, Horn felt a deep, chilling sense of conspiracy settling over her. A figure like Talulah did not cross the border on a simple whim.
Horn glanced down at her tactical terminal, pulling up a high-resolution photo taken during Talulah's public address in Chernogob. The resemblance was undeniable; she was looking at the actual Draco.
"Wait here for a moment," Horn instructed her squad, giving a curt, uninformative order before turning and walking straight toward where Jeanne and Talulah were resting.
"Still feeling sick?" Jeanne asked, casting a guilty glance at the unusually pale Draco. "How about I carry you on my back all the way to County Hillock? It's not that far anyway."
Talulah didn't bother answering with words. She merely shot Jeanne a dark, irritated glare, her expression clearly communicating: If you want me dead, just say so.
Faced with that icy glare, Jeanne could only pat her friend gently on the back to help soothe her upset stomach. Closing her eyes, Talulah leaned back against the crate, letting the slow, steady rhythm help her regain her composure.
"Can we talk, Talulah Artorius?"
Horn stopped directly before them, speaking the full name aloud. Her eyes remained locked onto Talulah, watching her every subtle movement with intense vigilance.
Talulah's brow twitched slightly at the sound of her surname. She opened her eyes, meeting the sharp, wary gaze of the blond Lupo before her. After a long silence, a cold, amused smile touched the Draco's lips.
"Recognized me already? My, you army types move fast. Has my face been placed on the Victorian military's shoot-on-sight list? Do all your soldiers have to memorize it by heart?"
Perhaps driven by lingering frustration from the miserable ride, or simply asserting dominance in the conversation, Talulah spoke at an unhurried, measured pace, completely devoid of panic.
"I am simply asking for your purpose in coming here," Horn replied, keeping her voice completely level. "You are not on any shoot-on-sight list. Such a thing does not exist in Victoria."
Horn kept her stance firm, her hand hovering near her equipment, wary that the dangerous woman before her might draw her blade without warning. Given the Draco's reputation, such a move was far from impossible.
Yet, hearing Horn's high-minded response, Talulah merely let out a quiet, mocking laugh. Her expression was not merely skeptical; it was the open amusement of someone looking at a naive child.
"I ask that you answer my question," Horn pressed, taking a step forward with absolute determination. "Why have you come to Victoria?"
"What, are you planning to fight me here?" Talulah tilted her head, her gaze sharp with provocation. Yet behind that glare was the cool certainty that the Lupo would not strike. The soldier before her was merely posturing to maintain leverage.
"I have no intention of engaging you here," Horn admitted frankly, recognizing the grim reality of their situation. "I have read the combat reports regarding your abilities. It would be foolish to pretend otherwise—my squad and I do not possess the combat strength to beat you in a direct fight."
Horn paused, her blue eyes narrowing as her tone shifted into something far colder. "However... I can broadcast the news that the last remaining Draco of the Artorius line has entered Victoria to the entire country. Once that information is public, whatever grand scheme you are planning here will fail instantly!"
That was the source of her confidence. Behind her stood the entire apparatus of the Victorian state. Even if she and her squad were wiped out in this dusty warehouse, she possessed the means to ruin Talulah's plans permanently.
Yet, the bold threat did not cause Talulah to flinch. Her expression remained as calm and unreadable as still water as she studied the soldier standing so fearlessly before a superior foe.
"You are indeed a proper Victorian soldier," Talulah said quietly, offering a rare word of respect. Though she held nothing but disdain for the nation of Victoria itself, she could appreciate the raw resolve of a soldier doing her duty.
"Answer the question!" Horn demanded for the third time, her patience wearing thin as her hand gripped the hilt of her heavy sword, ready for violence at a moment's notice.
"I am here merely for a few Infected," Talulah replied, her tone dripping with biting sarcasm. "Your Victoria treats the Infected like rusted iron rivets—squeezing out every drop of their labor before casting them aside to die. Is an Infected not even allowed to call for help when they are being crushed?"
She chuckled bitterly. To think that a group of Victorians, pushed to absolute rock bottom by their own homeland, had reached out to her for salvation—the sheer irony of it was almost poetic.
"That's all?" Horn asked, her brow furrowing in deep suspicion. "You expect me to believe you crossed the border just to help a handful of commoners?"
"What did you expect? That I came to reclaim the throne of Victoria?" Talulah sneered, her voice dropping into a dangerous, icy register. "What a ridiculous joke! Do you honestly believe I care about that pile of imperial garbage? Do you think I have the slightest desire to rule this rotten nation? My naive warrior, keep your foolish political delusions to yourself! If you keep uttering such nonsense, I will have to revoke the respect I just gave you!"
The sheer intensity of Talulah's outburst caught even Jeanne off guard. She hadn't expected the Draco to become so visibly agitated, briefly breaking her usual calm composure.
Yet, reflecting on it, Jeanne understood. To Talulah, the name "Victoria" represented nothing more than dark memories, betrayal, and deep-seated pain. There was not a single pleasant moment attached to this land.
Horn fell completely silent. She stared deep into Talulah's fiery eyes for a long moment, searching for any sign of deceit, before finally choosing to take the Draco at her word.
"I will accept your explanation for now," Horn said, slowly easing her posture. "Since our squad is also heading toward County Hillock, I can promise that we will not report your presence to Londinium along the way. Consider it a gesture of good faith, proving we hold no immediate hostility toward you."
If circumstances permitted, Horn would have preferred to notify military command in Londinium immediately. However, her squad had a critical investigation to conduct; if a figure of Talulah's strength decided to actively sabotage them, they would stand zero chance of completing their mission.
It was far better to establish a tense, mutual neutrality for the time being.
"So long as you do not view my actions through your biased Victorian lens, you will find I have no interest in bringing destruction to this place," Talulah said smoothly, resting her hands back on her lap.
Horn let out a quiet breath of relief. After exchanging a few polite, formal words, she turned and walked back toward her waiting squad. Facing her curious soldiers, she briefly explained the situation, keeping the critical details contained.
Meanwhile, off to the side, Bagpipe had been listening quietly. As she stared at the Draco across the room, something clicked in her mind.
"Hold on a minute..." Bagpipe muttered under her breath, scratching her head. "A Draco, ye say? When I was catching up with one o' my old Royal Academy classmates on the comms the other day... didn't she mention somethin' about a Draco too?"
Her curiosity piqued, Bagpipe continued to stare at Talulah with wide, inquisitive eyes, trying to piece the rumors together.
The rest of the squad shared her fascination. To common soldiers, a genuine Draco was practically a creature of legend, and they couldn't help but whisper among themselves, comparing the subtle physical differences between a Draco and a typical Vouivre.
Unbothered by the stares, Talulah leaned slightly toward Jeanne, her voice dropping to a low whisper. "What do you make of this?"
She was referring, of course, to the stolen shipment of refined Originium products Horn had mentioned earlier.
"I doubt our journey is going to be quiet," Jeanne replied, a shadow of deep concern crossing her face. "If those materials have already vanished, it means whoever took them has likely begun processing them into weapons. Converting active Originium into crude explosive charges doesn't take much time at all."
Jeanne paused, looking toward the dusty road outside. "For two outsiders who don't know the local layout, stopping a disaster of this scale in such a tight window is going to be incredibly difficult. We simply don't have time on our side."
"What if we share what you saw with this squad?" Talulah suggested after a moment's thought, nodding in agreement with Jeanne's assessment.
Jeanne turned her head, staring at Talulah in genuine surprise. Wait, wasn't this the same woman who was ready to trade blows with their captain two minutes ago? How did her attitude shift so fast?!