"Because of the reckless actions of certain clans previously, our reserve of medication has run critically low. Given the current situation, we hope to establish further cooperation with... Rhodes Island."
Ratatos explained Kjerag's current dilemma with a smooth, pleasant smile. When it came to the plight of the Infected, the Doctor always took the matter with absolute seriousness, no matter how much she usually loathed extra work.
"So in other words, you need someone to help you properly accommodate those Infected workers, as well as take preventative measures for those who might be showing early symptoms... With all due respect, I simply don't have the hands for a task of this scale."
After listening to her explanation, the Doctor instantly recognized it for what it was: a colossal mess, and one that virtually no one in their right mind would want to take on.
Handling a task like this poorly was guaranteed to stir up massive resentment from every angle, especially given the current volatile atmosphere. To make matters worse, the leader overseeing the local factories had just met with a tragic accident, multiplying the sheer number of unpredictable variables.
The Doctor looked down at her own petite frame, then cast a glance at Blaze standing nearby. Making the two of them handle a mess like this alone was completely off the table—zero room for discussion!
"We will assign our own people to assist you with management. After all, we have zero prior experience in these matters, so we must bother you to lend your expertise."
Ratatos spoke with utmost politeness, though the towering, fierce-looking Ursus standing beside her remained completely silent. His imposing silence left the Doctor secretly worrying whether he was about to burst out with something shocking and aggressive.
Yet the big man truly maintained a quiet demeanor throughout, observing the two of them with polite restraint—though his focus rested almost entirely on Jeanne.
"I can only provide you with a structured guide and policy plan, but as for the actual execution, that will be entirely up to you." Though reluctant, the Doctor agreed for the sake of the Infected workers.
However, she had no intention of becoming the primary person responsible for running the show. Just as she stated, her role would strictly be that of an advisor. If anything went sideways down the line, Rhodes Island would not take the fall.
That compromise seemed to meet the baseline of what Ratatos was willing to accept. Seeing how readily the two agreed, the Doctor perked up slightly and decided to take Blaze along to inspect the local factory conditions firsthand.
"I'll go check out the situation first. Keep your guard up on your end," the Doctor leaned in and whispered into Jeanne's ear before leaving. "I get the feeling that big guy came here specifically for you. Be careful!"
Jeanne was well aware that his visit was directed at her. Ever since entering the room, the massive Ursus had barely taken his eyes off her, making anyone wonder if he harbored some hidden agenda.
If he hadn't maintained proper etiquette, she might have already delivered a sharp lesson herself. Fortunately, she didn't need to step in.
Seeing their leader stare a second too long, an Ursus guard standing behind the big man seized an opportunity to nudge his superior, snapping him back to his senses. Realizing how rude his intense gaze must have seemed, the bear-like man flushed with awkward embarrassment.
"You... your... Miss, you are the Saintess of the Sanktas, correct?" The Ursus spoke carefully, watching Jeanne's expression closely as if terrified his words might offend her.
"I am. May I ask what brings you here to find me?" Jeanne nodded, giving the group a quick once-over and noting that they carried no genuine malice.
"We would like to invite you to visit the Sacred Mountain as our guest. Would Your Excellency be willing to make the journey?" Seeing how Arctosz struggled to express himself, Ratatos cut straight to the point on his behalf.
An invitation to the Sacred Mountain? Jeanne turned her head to glance at the snow-peaked mountain rising in the distance. After a moment's thought, she accepted the offer.
"I must admit I'm curious, though," she asked. "Who exactly wishes to meet with me, and for what reason?"
"Many people wish to catch a glimpse of Your Excellency, in truth. However, out of respect for proper protocol, the Grand Elder is the only one confirmed to meet you. Naturally, if you wish to meet others while you are there, that can certainly be arranged as well."
Only the Grand Elder? Normally, a formal diplomatic meeting like this would be hosted by the local Saintess. Jeanne pondered the matter briefly before stepping into the carriage bound for the Sacred Mountain alongside Alina.
Once everyone was seated inside, the carriage set off directly toward the towering peak. Along the road, countless figures could be seen moving at a painstaking crawl, performing solemn prayer rituals with every slow step forward.
"Those are all pilgrims. Legend has it that if you bow in reverent prayer with every step until you reach the grand hall of the Sacred Mountain, Kjeragandr will bestow her divine blessing upon you, delivering you from sorrow and suffering."
The hosts shared the traditions of their country with Jeanne. Looking at the crowds lining the roadside, it was clearly a long-standing practice that had endured for generations—a tradition that, to Jeanne, appeared... far too cruel.
Among the pilgrims lining the treacherous path were young people, the elderly, and even young children. The clothes on their backs were thin and threadbare, hardly suited to withstand the biting mountain cold.
Their packs were sparse, containing perhaps a few days' worth of dry rations and a spare garment or two. The closer they drew to the Sacred Mountain, the more battered and ragged the pilgrims became, though the number of old folk and children noticeably thinned out.
Evidently, not everyone possessed the stamina to survive the freezing trek. Many had been forever entombed in the ice and snow of the mountain, never to return home.
"To subject them to such a path... it feels terribly cruel," Alina murmured, shutting her eyes tightly as a heavy sadness washed over her.
She felt profound pity for the pilgrims, but more than that, she couldn't comprehend why they would perform such a brutal and meaningless ritual. To her, it was nothing short of throwing human lives away.
"It is simply their way of demonstrating true devotion to Kjeragandr," Arctosz spoke up, his voice filled with deep-seated conviction. The giant Ursus and his entire clan were staunch, wholehearted supporters of these ancient traditions. "If one could earn Kjeragandr's favor without offering any sacrifice or effort, who would truly revere the deity?"
"Must the dignity of a deity truly demand such cruelty to earn the reverence of the people?" Alina countered with rare emotion, completely unable to accept something he spoke of as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"This is the path they chose for themselves," Arctosz replied, a edge entering his voice. "It is the very method our ancestors used to gain Kjeragandr's approval, and these people are merely following in the footsteps of those ancient heroes."
Hearing the Elafia woman question their sacred customs sparked a flicker of displeasure in Arctosz's chest. Reminding himself that she was an honored guest, he reined in his temper and held his tongue.
Still, his disdain for these outsiders grew with every passing second. The interaction only solidified his belief that partnering with foreigners would never yield a good outcome.
When two sides couldn't even begin to understand each other's beliefs, how could there ever be mutual trust? In the end, these outsiders would only end up coveting their sacred mountain.
Alina opened her mouth to debate the matter further—she felt compelled to address this meaningless sacrifice and do whatever she could to discourage it.
However, Jeanne reached out and gently rested a hand on her arm, stopping her. Jeanne knew that pressing the issue here was pointless; a few words from an outsider would never overturn beliefs that had been ingrained for a lifetime.
Arctosz sat in disgruntled silence, turning his face away to stare out the window at the passing pilgrims. At the very least, watching his people's devotion didn't make his blood boil.
"Please don't take Arctosz's words to heart," Ratatos said quietly, coming over to smooth things over when the carriage paused for a brief rest mid-journey. "He is merely adhering to our country's long-standing traditions."
"I half-expected you to sit back and watch us argue," Jeanne remarked, looking at the Zalak woman who had gone out of her way to explain. "Given that the relationship between your three families isn't exactly harmonious."
"There is a time and place for everything," Ratatos replied with a bitter smile. "I certainly have no love for that brute or his clan, but allowing unnecessary misunderstandings to fester would do none of us any good. If I could avoid bringing up these topics, I certainly would."
She paused, looking out toward the snow. "His clan clings stubbornly to the old ways and despises change, largely due to how they were raised. That fool's own father was once one of those pilgrims... though unfortunately, he didn't survive the trek."
Ratatos shook her head with a faint sigh. "He may act like a hot-headed brute, but the supply stations positioned along this pilgrimage route were built entirely out of his own pocket. I only mention this because I'd hate for you to leave with the impression that Kjerag is nothing more than a ruined, primitive backwater!"