"Eek!"
Hearing Remilia's casual, dismissive words, a dense layer of cold sweat instantly broke out across Clever's back, soaking into her thin blouse.
A Blood Demon who has literally met the Sanguinarch, Duq'arael, face-to-face... and you people still have the absolute audacity to look me in the eye and claim you aren't from the Blood Court?!
"That weird uncle with his nose stuck so high up in the air did try to ask me if I wanted to go back to the Blood Court with him, but I flatly refused!" Flandre piped up, poking her little blonde head out from behind Remilia's chair and speaking with an incredibly proud, puffed-out chest. "After I said no, we had a giant fight, and it ended in a total draw! Once the fight was completely over, that uncle just left."
"You... you actually refused him?!" Clever's pupils shrank violently into tiny pinpricks.
As a native native of Terra, she knew all too well just how incredibly proud, tyrannical, and ruthlessly cruel a monstrous figure like Duq'arael truly was. Would a tyrant of his caliber ever willingly allow a rogue, unaligned Blood Demon to wander freely across the continent, completely separated from the absolute authority of the Court? No matter how much she tried to rationalize the scenario, it simply didn't seem statistically likely.
As for Flandre's bold claim that she and the Sanguinarch had fought a legendary duel to a total, deadlocked draw?
Clever felt that based on her own unique sensory perception and high-grade Originium Arts, Flandre was undoubtedly a terrifyingly strong entity. But to claim that a literal child could fight to a total standstill against an ancient, primordial monster like Duq'arael—who had successfully lived and orchestrated wars for untold centuries—she still found it exceptionally hard to believe. In her logical mind, it was far more likely that the Sanguinarch had intentionally held back a massive portion of his catastrophic power, viewing the entire skirmish as a mere amusing game to play with a rare, feral kin.
However, the startling fact that Duq'arael had actually stopped pursuing the matter the very moment Flandre refused his offer was something she had absolutely never expected.
She turned her eyes to look at Flandre with deep, unbridled curiosity, desperately wondering what exact philosophical arguments the child could have possibly deployed to make the grand ruler of the Blood Court completely abandon forcing her back into the military folds of the Sarkaz.
Flandre blinked her large crimson eyes innocently.
"Why on earth would I ever want to return to that boring old Court anyway? Does the Court have countless fun, exciting toys to play with every day? Does the Court serve all kinds of delicious, gourmet food for dinner? Does the Court have shops filled with all sorts of strange and wonderful frilly dresses? Since the Court has absolutely nothing good to offer, and I can easily buy whatever I want in the markets of Lungmen, why wouldn't I stay in prosperous, beautiful Lungmen instead of joining the Court and marching off to that miserable, dusty old wasteland of Kazdel?"
Flandre spoke with such absolute, unyielding conviction that Clever was left entirely, utterly speechless.
How on earth is a sane person supposed to formulate a logical response to that?
Yet, at this exact moment of shock, Clever also thoroughly understood why Duq'arael had ultimately conceded to this little girl's simplistic worldview; her unvarnished words were simply too deeply heart-wrenching. She could vividly imagine just how incredibly stifled and deeply sad an ancient king dedicated entirely to the grand, bloody cause of making the Sarkaz race great again would feel upon hearing this little child compare his sacred historical crusade to a lack of fancy dresses and snacks.
Although Duq'arael appeared universally insidious, cunning, and ruthless to the rest of the world, Clever knew that like all true Sarkaz people, the Sanguinarch definitely harbored a genuine, burning desire to see the nation of Kazdel rise from its ashes. Even if he was a terrifying, global enemy, Clever wouldn't deny him that single noble point.
So, visualizing the historical meeting through Flandre's words, she could practically feel the immense, suffocating frustration Duq'arael must have choked on at the time.
But as her mind processed the timeline, she suddenly realized something monumental.
"Wait... Lungmen? A tiny, blonde Blood Demon?" Clever gasped, her jaw dropping as pieces of global intelligence violently slammed together in her brain. "You... you're that specific Blood Demon the Rose Riverside Sisters mentioned in their confidential reports! The chaotic entity who personally caused a massive, terrifying bloodbath across the snowfields of Ursus and then fled straight to Lungmen to apply for official political asylum!"
"Hey! That sounds so incredibly unpleasant!" Flandre pouted crossly, crossing her arms as her small eyebrows furrowed in disdain. "What do you mean by 'bloodbath' and 'political asylum'? Those terribly bad people in the Ursus military were aggressively bullying a group of completely defenseless, innocent Infected! I, Flandre, am a proud messenger of justice, and I just helped the poor Infected defeat the evil Ursus Imperial Army! As for fleeing, I absolutely didn't flee from anyone. Flandre never flees! I was just helping out my friends in Ursus at the time, and after I finished smashing the bad guys, I was planning on traveling down to Lungmen anyway."
She let out a small huff, tilting her chin up toward the ceiling.
"And since the Reunion Movement happened to possess some diplomatic connections with the authorities of Lungmen, I acted as a high-speed messenger for them once, and then I just decided to settle down and live in Lungmen. Besides, have you ever in your life seen anyone seeking safe political asylum who actively runs right back into the borders of Ursus every single year? Those armored Ursus idiots may have the sheer numbers, but they can't beat Flandre in a real fight at all!"
Flandre tilted her head up even further, radiating a pure aura of absolute, childlike pride.
Clever's pupils shrank once more. Flandre's casual, defensive rant had just revealed a staggering volume of high-level geopolitical information, indicating that the reality of the northern front was completely, fundamentally different from the heavily censored intelligence reports she had managed to obtain through her normal channels.
At this exact moment, acting in her true capacity as a deep-cover intelligence operative for the peaceful Rose Riverside faction, Clever instinctively narrowed her eyes and began to listen with absolute, rapt attention.
Remilia sat back, making no move whatsoever to stop Flandre's proud self-introduction; instead, she quietly observed the shifting body language and hyper-focused gaze of the girl named Clever. Seeing that the thin, malnourished Vampire was indeed aggressively analyzing every syllable, a small, knowing smile couldn't help but tug at the corners of the devil's elegant mouth.
"Speaking of which," Clever murmured softly, attempting to probe further while maintaining a casual demeanor, "I've historically heard rumors of a powerful Blood Demon who helped the Infected survivors establish a localized, independent regime within the borders of Ursus. But none of the political analysts I know are remotely optimistic about its long-term survival."
She let out a soft sigh, shaking her head.
"After all, the sheer, unbridled terror of the Ursus Empire's military oppression against the Infected is infamous across the entirety of Terra. It is considered an absolute miracle and a luxury for a healthy Infected civilian in Ursus to simply live peacefully until a natural death, let alone dream of successfully establishing a stable, sovereign Infected regime and surviving directly among an entire empire of Ursus citizens who view the Infected as a literal plague."
The moment Clever finished her grim assessment, she sharply noticed that every single person sitting in the luxury suite was suddenly wearing a remarkably strange, deeply amused smile. Not knowing what their silent amusement could possibly mean, she looked around the lounge in total, blinking confusion.
"Then tell me, Miss Clever, do you actually know that the current Reunion Movement is doing significantly better than your little analysts could ever possibly imagine?" Flandre giggled, her eyes twinkling with amusement.
"They've not only successfully established and fortified their very own sovereign territory in the direct border region bridging Leithanien and Victoria, but they've also legally secured their own massive, operational mobile city modules. Furthermore, they have actually reached a completely stable, mutually beneficial tacit understanding with the local frontier authorities. They even operate a highly lucrative commercial merchant caravan completely composed of pack Camel-beasts!"
Flandre ticked the points off on her small fingers, her voice rising with excitement.
"Not to mention the fact that several major military assaults launched by the greedy Ursus Old Nobility factions were completely, violently repelled at the border walls—and the defeated imperial troops even left behind a massive bounty of high-quality, military-grade weapons and industrial equipment for the Reunion Movement to claim completely for free! Furthermore, the primary combat training supervisor overseeing the entire Reunion military force is none other than the famous, legendary warlord 'Patriot.' So, while the current, peaceful Reunion Movement still currently lacks the massive industrial capacity to aggressively expand its borders, its localized capacity for absolute military self-preservation is completely beyond a shadow of a doubt!"
Don't be fooled by how Flandre spent her days lazily playing around and causing mischief whenever she visited the Reunion camps. Because she was a core fixture of their inner circle, she had actively seen, heard, and processed an immense amount of high-level administrative data with her very own eyes and ears.
So, when she described the flourishing, organized state of the northern Infected nation, a brilliant, hopeful light shone deep within her crimson eyes. Her tone was completely saturated with genuine pride. Her words carried an immense, undeniable weight of truth.
This detailed breakdown left Clever feeling completely, profoundly shocked to her core.
Although she was naturally well aware of the terrifying legend of the Patriot—after all, his primary historical identity was the absolute last pure-blooded Wendigo remaining alive on the surface of this earth—she had never in her wildest dreams expected that the fragile Reunion Movement, which she and her peaceful hidden sisters thought would be completely unable to hold out against the empire for more than a month, had not only survived the freezing winter but was actively growing stronger, wealthier, and more organized by the day.
Thinking of this revolutionary development, Clever immediately resolved to securely pass this critical geopolitical update down to her sisters resting back at the Rose Riverside the very moment she left this inn, wanting to see if any of their reclusive kin would be interested in personally traveling north to see the miracle with their own eyes.
As for right now, she looked back at the extraordinary travelers sitting around her.
"I... I truly never expected that within that frozen, forbidden zone for the Infected known as Ursus, a beautiful flower called the Reunion Movement could actually manage to bloom so magnificently. It is simply, entirely incredible."
"Mm-hmm! I've read all about it in one of Patchy's human history books before," Flandre nodded sagely, tapping her chin. "What was that phrase again? Oh, right! 'The more brutal the oppression is, the more violent the resistance will inevitably be.' After all, Infected citizens living in other nations across Terra at least possess a tiny, miserable pathway to hide and survive in the cracks of society. But the unfortunate Infected trapped inside the borders of Ursus don't even have that. They are completely backed into a corner; they either choose to rise up and violently resist to win some insignificant rights for themselves and their families, or they all simply suffocate to death in the mud of the land called Ursus."
For once in her life, Flandre was surprisingly, remarkably clever and articulate.
Remilia offered a very satisfied, proud nod upon hearing her younger sister's profound philosophical breakdown. Although the little blonde vampire occasionally acted incredibly silly and lacked basic common sense, her younger sister wasn't completely beyond historical salvation.
Clever was also thoroughly surprised to hear such deep, structural socio-political commentary flowing effortlessly from Flandre's mouth. She had fully expected this whimsical girl—who seemed a bit simple-minded, hyperactive, and liked to randomly giggle to herself in the corners—to possess such an extraordinary, macroscopic perspective on global warfare.