"I am genuinely curious. My absence couldn't have been all that long, right? So why is it that the moment I step back into town, your entire behavioral pattern looks like..."
"Like you just got your head stepped on by a giant creature, turning your entire thought process into complete chaos, you mean?"
Inside the hair salon bearing the name Verdant Sparks, Jeanne and the Doctor sat face to face across a wooden table, engaged in casual conversation while a few visiting Rhodes Island operators hovered nearby, eager to sample the city's latest stylistic trends.
The Doctor stared in mild speechlessness at the voluminous, explosive lion-mane hairstyle perched on Jeanne's head. How could a completely normal person devolve into such a bizarre state of eccentric styling after such a brief separation?
Could it be that she had somehow drifted through an anomalous rift, or was it simply the fallout from that sudden natural disaster her group had encountered last week, triggering some nonsensical dimensional shift?
"Don't give me that look, as if you've just fallen through a dimensional tear or encountered an extraterrestrial lifeform. I only ended up looking like this because I dragged a friend here to try out the styling chairs a few days ago and accidentally got myself caught in the crossfire."
Jeanne wore an expression of profound spiritual exhaustion. She vividly recalled her sudden inspiration to bring Talulah along for a makeover, only for the Draco to offer an immediate, desperate, and absolute refusal.
By the time they actually arrived at the shop, a cascade of unpredictable events led to the person trapped in the styling chair swapping out from Talulah to Jeanne herself—an outcome she found entirely unacceptable.
"Well, since you haven't lost your mind entirely, I suppose I can relax. But seeing you like this is... pfft, absolutely hilarious!" The Doctor tried to maintain a serious demeanor, but finally cracked, bursting into laughter right in front of her.
Jeanne watched the masked figure slump over the table, convulsing with mirth at her ridiculous new hairdo, her gaze turning progressively frigid. If this idiot weren't wearing a sealed helmet that couldn't be casually peeled off, she would have forced the Doctor into the styling chair as well.
"With all that volume, you look precisely like a startled, electrocuted lion. You ought to call yourself an Aslan now. We actually have an Aslan operator back on the landship, though her hair is considerably better behaved."
The Doctor's thoughts drifted to Siege, the Aslan operator she had recently gotten acquainted with aboard the vessel—someone sporting a delightfully fluffy head of hair that constantly tempted the Doctor to reach out and give it a thorough ruffle.
Alas, as the official director of Rhodes Island, indulging in such undignified impulses was strictly forbidden, or at least required waiting until they were well enough acquainted to justify the contact.
"Would you like to try it yourself?" Jeanne's tone carried the soft, alluring cadence of a demon offering forbidden fruit. When the Doctor looked up, she found Jeanne glaring at her with a chilling aura that suggested a terrifying beast was waiting just beneath the surface.
Amiya, my dearest leader, it appears your beloved Doctor won't be returning to Rhodes Island today. I sincerely hope that upon hearing the news of my untimely demise, you remain strong enough to bear the weight of it all.
"N-No, thank you. Kal'tsit has a standing rule prohibiting me from removing my helmet outside the security perimeter of the landship. Though, to be fair, she has relaxed that restriction quite a bit lately."
The Doctor scratched the side of her helmeted head in awkward explanation, her thoughts drifting once again to the conspicuously absent feline doctor who had rushed back to Kazdel for undisclosed business the previous month.
"Who even knows what's happening in Kazdel right now? Kal'tsit and her entourage packed up in such a frantic hurry, leaving me behind to single-handedly shoulder the burdens of this massive family."
Mentioning Rhodes Island always opened the floodgates for the Doctor, who desperately sought an empathetic ear for her daily grievances. Yet a quick sweep of the room reminded her that viable confidants were in desperately short supply.
Kal'tsit possessed the emotional expressiveness of a stone tablet, meaning any complaints lobbed her way would merely be recycled as ammunition for mockery. Medical professionals like Warfarin proved even more unreliable, and Amiya, despite her maturity, was still too young to bear the brunt of administrative venting.
While a few elite operators might theoretically lend a sympathetic ear, the Doctor preferred keeping professional boundaries intact. By process of elimination, Jeanne remained the singularly qualified sounding board.
"On that particular subject, I actually have some intelligence. Not long ago, the first vanguard squad of Kazdel mercenaries reached Iberia, managing to root out over six thousand members of the Deep Sea Church, alongside a vast swarm of lesser creatures and several high-ranking Seaborn, all within a single week. That tally alone rivals six months' worth of Inquisitorial casework."
And that astonishing output was merely the result of those shapeshifters wandering the streets on routine patrols rather than conducting door-to-door sweeps. Had they opted for aggressive residential searches, the numbers would have been significantly higher—though that specific tactical approach had been temporarily shelved due to political sensitivities surrounding their mercenary status.
Jeanne possessed considerably more insight into these developments than the Doctor, frequently receiving direct, unvarnished intelligence straight from the Pope's inner circle, allowing her to coordinate rapid-response support if things went sideways.
In the current Iberian theater, the collaborative deployment of mercenary forces alongside Saintess-backed missionary columns marked a profoundly surreal milestone—two historical blood enemies working in tandem.
The Church forces, consisting of Apostolic Knights and vetted missionaries, focused on purifying corrupted regional faiths and restoring doctrinal stability.
Meanwhile, the Kazdel units, spearheaded by Damazti, leveraged their unique physiological infiltration capabilities to unearth hidden cultists lurking within local settlements.
"And now... having witnessed firsthand how catastrophic the Seaborn threat truly is, they're preparing to expand the cooperative framework. Kal'tsit likely went down there to serve as a high-level strategic advisor."
Jeanne shared the fragments of intelligence she had gathered. The Doctor listened attentively, nodding in slow comprehension before voicing a lingering curiosity as to why Kal'tsit hadn't bothered informing her directly.
"Your current priority is maintaining administrative stability aboard the landship. Matters concerning Kazdel are being handled directly by me and Theresa; as for you..."
"I always get this nagging sensation that she, and even Theresa for that matter, are deliberately engineering a wide berth between me and Kazdel, actively discouraging any attempts on my part to get close to the country." The Doctor spoke with a hint of melancholy in her voice. She maintained an unshakeable conviction that the answers to her lost memories were buried deep within Kazdel's soil, yet her associates were united in barring her access.
Jeanne offered no immediate commentary on that observation; the underlying reasons were transparent enough to her, but offering unsolicited analysis served little purpose when someone simply needed to vent.
Right now, her primary duty was acting as a receptive pair of ears, coupled with a reassuring, grounded presence.
"Let's drop that topic for a moment. Can you fill me in on the current operational tempo down in Iberia? Tell me something I haven't already heard."
For reasons even she couldn't fully articulate, the Doctor harbored an acute sensitivity to military logistics and armed conflict, frequently using secure communication channels to pry into ongoing campaigns.
In the past, Jeanne usually responded with vague pleasantries to placate the war-obsessed strategist, though the Doctor always accepted those minimal updates with bright satisfaction.
"My information isn't exhaustive either. As far as I know, Ursus has mobilized their soldiers to push toward the southern coastline, and vanguard forces from Yan have apparently arrived as well, though neither nation has committed large troop numbers."
"Some reinforcement is better than none at all. A lot of operators aboard Rhodes Island have been buzzing with curiosity; we haven't seen cross-national military collaboration on this scale in years."
Noticing a flicker of disappointment in Jeanne's summary, the Doctor pressed on. "Besides, if either nation committed a full expeditionary army, the Iberian government would be forced to question their underlying motives."
The Doctor offered the observation with a light, cheerful chuckle, visualizing the sheer panic rippling through the local Iberian administration. She doubted those proud traditionalists would willingly roll out the red carpet for foreign battalions.
After all, while officially classified as mutual assistance, allowing foreign armed forces to operate domestically meant Iberia risked finding itself caught between the territorial ambitions of Terra's major powers and the advancing tide of the Seaborn—a geopolitical nightmare where the only remaining outcome would be mutual destruction.
"That's a fair point; I suppose I overlooked the diplomatic friction." Jeanne nodded in agreement. How had she so easily glossed over the inevitable interstate paranoia?
"Leave those headache-inducing matters to the grand statesmen. As it stands, I'm merely the harried manager of a mobile landship, struggling to even memorize the roster of my own personnel..."
Learning that Kal'tsit wasn't in immediate physical danger instantly melted away the Doctor's residual tension. As long as that formidable feline was out of her hair, all was right with the world; she could simply bide her time until Kal'tsit returned and resume her peaceful lifestyle of delegation.
"On a different note, would you be interested in taking a trip up to the landship? I happen to have an individual aboard who has expressed a strong desire to meet you."
The Doctor paused mid-thought, lifting her head with a sudden spark of inspiration.
"Want to meet me? Is it someone I know?" Jeanne raised an eyebrow, curious as to who would go out of their way to request an audience through the Doctor's channels.
If they had simply reached out to Warfarin, that eccentric vampire would have likely dragged them directly to her doorstep long ago.
"It's a patient currently undergoing treatment at our medical bay. They caught wind of your presence in the region and have been petitioning me for a chance to speak with you in person."