Although Jeanne couldn't pin down the exact source of that uncanny feeling, a single look convinced her that this was no ordinary mortal. She wondered if the Grand Elder had placed a handler here to monitor the Saintess's every move.
"This is my maid, Kjera," Enya introduced, noticing Jeanne's gaze as she gestured toward her companion and only true confidante. "If you require anything during your stay, please let her know."
"It is a pleasure to welcome you to the Vine-Bear Court," Kjera said, bowing gracefully with a polite smile. "Please allow me to assist you with whatever you need."
"Hello there," Jeanne greeted her warmly.
The name Kjera immediately gave the game away. Jeanne instantly deduced the maid's true identity—for the legendary Kjeragandr to walk among the people of Kjerag in such a humble guise was amusing, to say the least.
She hadn't even bothered to alter her name much. Jeanne wondered if the name was simply that common, or if the locals were somehow blind to the subtle hint.
Still, Jeanne chose not to expose her. After exchanging polite pleasantries, she turned her attention to chatting with Enya about topics of mutual interest—namely, Enya's younger sister.
Later that night, Jeanne and Alina settled into their temporary quarters within the court. Left with some quiet time, Jeanne grew concerned about the situation in the lower districts where the Doctor was staying. Pulling out her communicator, she stepped outside to establish contact.
"Hey! Can you hear me down there?" Jeanne shouted over the howling northern wind, trying to pierce through the mountain storm.
"Speak up! I can barely hear a word!" the Doctor's voice crackled back through heavy static. "There are no relay stations out here! The signal is practically nonexistent—these Terminals can barely pick up a few clear syllables!"
The two of them ended up shouting at their devices from miles apart. Anyone watching from a distance would have thought they had lost their minds, standing in the freezing snow and screaming at small metallic boxes.
"Same here! The wind is blowing so hard it's tearing the signal apart!" Jeanne called out helplessly from her perch on the roof, shivering against the gusting gale.
Then, as if by a sudden stroke of fortune, the howling wind began to die down. Within minutes, the roaring gale subsided into absolute stillness.
Jeanne cast a grateful glance toward the living quarters below. In a place like this, only one person possessed the power to command the weather so effortlessly.
"Thank goodness, now we can actually talk," the Doctor grumbled, her voice coming through clearly at last. "I can't imagine how the locals communicate with each other. Do they rely entirely on runners wearing out their boots?"
"We just got lucky," Jeanne replied. "Otherwise we wouldn't have gotten through to each other tonight at all. Long story short, how are things on your end?"
"Terrible," the Doctor sighed. "While it's refreshing that the locals don't discriminate against Oripathy, they have zero concept of infection control or prevention. I've seen people with open cuts touch an Infected's blood without a second thought..."
The Doctor vented her frustration about the day's events. While the lack of prejudice was touching, the total absence of basic medical awareness was enough to give anyone a massive headache.
"To make matters worse, we didn't bring much medication with us," the Doctor continued, her tone heavy with concern. "Requesting a shipment from the nearest branch will take days, and that's the real issue right now."
"What can we do then?" Jeanne asked, rubbing her temples. "The local train lines are shut down. Even if we wanted to intervene, we can only sit by and watch for now."
"The locals mentioned a resource called Tearstone that can temporarily suppress Oripathy symptoms," the Doctor said, scratching her head in thought. "I'm looking into sourcing some right now. If all else fails... I might need to bother you to make some holy water."
Had there been any other option, the Doctor wouldn't have asked. In a deeply religious realm like Kjerag, using the power of a foreign Saintess to heal local believers carried an undeniable hint of provocation.
Jeanne, however, held no such reservations. She agreed to the request right away, not giving those political nuances a second thought.
"By the way," Jeanne suddenly lowered her voice, leaning closer to the receiver with a sly grin. "Guess who I ran into today?"
"Who?" The Doctor paused, caught off guard. "You obviously met Ensia's sister, the Saintess. But you wouldn't use that tone just for her... You didn't see someone who shouldn't be there, did you?"
The Doctor gasped slightly. "For you to sound this secretive, it can't be a nobody. Don't tell me... you saw Ensia's missing brother up there?"
"Wow, how on earth did your mind leap all the way over there?" Jeanne marvelled at the Doctor's wild imagination.
"Because for you to sound this mysterious, it had to be someone major," the Doctor reasoned, her mind working through possibilities. "And since you're staying with the Saintess, it wasn't impossible for her brother to be hiding in her quarters."
The Doctor paused, rapidly connecting the dots. "Wait, your tone says I'm dead wrong. Let me think... Ah! I think I've got it..."
The Doctor's tone shifted to utter shock. "Did you... run into that mysterious figure who spoke to us earlier?"
"High probability!" Jeanne whispered back. "And I'm pretty sure that mysterious presence is none other than Kjeragandr herself. She's right here inside the Vine-Bear Court."
The revelation left the Doctor thoroughly stunned. "You mean the deity Kjerag worships actually exists? She... or rather, They possess terrifying power, just like the God you worship?"
"Her power is undeniable," Jeanne said frankly. "But if you're asking if she's like my God... I'd say they are completely different entities."
Next, Jeanne voiced the comparison without hesitation—a statement that would have sent a local Kjerag native's blood pressure soaring. But out here in the snow, the only person within earshot was the maid named Kjera.
"Fascinating..." the Doctor murmured, her interest thoroughly piqued. "No wonder Enciodes insisted on making his sister the Saintess. This whole situation is getting more complex by the second."
"So what form does she take?" the Doctor pressed. "Is she a biological entity, a physical phenomenon, or a pure spirit like Kashchey was?"
"A maid."
"What?" The Doctor thought her ears were playing tricks on her. "What did you just say?"
"I said," Jeanne swung her legs lightheartedly over the edge of the roof, "Kjeragandr is currently walking around as the Saintess's personal maid, watching over her realm."
Hearing the Doctor's speechless reaction gave Jeanne a quiet sense of amusement.
"That is... unexpectedly bizarre..." The Doctor's voice suddenly began to break apart into heavy static again. "Bzzzt... signal's dying again... Stay safe up there... If anything comes up, I'll find a way to contact you... Bzzzt... And remember... keep an eye on Enciodes... That man... is far from simple..."
The transmission cut off entirely, replaced by the howl of the mountain wind rushing back across the roof.
"I apologize," a soft, apologetic voice called out from inside the room. "My ability to hold back the storm is limited. If I suppress the winds for too long, the storm's backlash will only be far worse when I let go."
Jeanne turned to see Kjera standing inside the room. Alina was looking at the maid with a bewildered expression, not quite catching the full meaning behind her words.
"There's no need to apologize," Jeanne said, hopping down from the roof with a bright smile. "I should be thanking you for calming the skies. Otherwise, talking to the Doctor would have been ten times harder... Kjeragandr."
"Wait... WHAT?!"
Alina's eyes went wide as saucers as she stared between Jeanne and the smiling maid—who made no effort to deny the claim.
This unassuming maid... was actually Kjeragandr herself?!