Though she had spent the previous evening insisting she wanted no part in an extended journey, once Jeanne and the Doctor made it clear that negotiation was entirely off the table, Alina accepted the proposal with quiet grace.
It was easy to tell she was harboring a deep, secret excitement for the upcoming excursion. If only her Elafia tail had been a bit more expressive, Jeanne was certain she would have seen it wagging with undisguised delight.
"Are you entirely certain this trip won't cause complications? Kjerag has its own distinct spiritual traditions, after all. Do you worry that your arrival might inadvertently sour relations with the locals?"
Watching Alina retreat to her quarters to pack her traveling bags with complete disregard for the departure schedule, Talulah turned her gaze toward Jeanne to voice her lingering concerns.
Her worries centered primarily on religious friction. Lacking any firsthand familiarity with Kjerag, Talulah naturally associated the isolated nation with rigid, closed-minded societies.
In her reading of Terran history, religious states of that variety invariably leaned toward dogmatic fanaticism; conflicts sparked by theological clashes were far from rare occurrences.
"First of all, I am traveling entirely in a private capacity, and they haven't explicitly banned individuals connected to Laterano from entering. Second, I seriously doubt accepting Ensiodes's invitation poses any genuine danger. And third, I have never been one to shy away from minor inconveniences—if things turn south, I can simply fly us back."
Jeanne replied with characteristic nonchalance, though privately, a spark of genuine curiosity burned within her. She wondered whether the deity revered by those mountain dwellers was a tangible entity or merely a lingering myth.
That lingering curiosity was a primary factor in her decision to accept. Aside from Laterano, finding a region where divine presence was acknowledged without immediate mortal peril was nearly impossible on Terra, making Kjerag a uniquely fascinating destination.
Forgive me, Kjeragians—no offense intended. Jeanne silently crossed her arms in a mock prayer of apology, though she doubted whether the local god could hear an outsider's casual musings.
Kjeragandr: Apologies, but I couldn't care less.
"Hey! Daydreaming again with that utterly vacant expression on your face!" Talulah delivered a swift, playful chop to the top of Jeanne's head, snapping her sharply out of her reverie like someone testing a melon.
Yet as Jeanne rubbed her head, a sudden realization dawned on her: looking back at the sequence of events, Talulah had probably just wanted an excuse to hit her.
"Your saliva—you're drooling!" Sensing the sharp, dangerous shift in Jeanne's gaze, Talulah hastily pointed toward the corner of Jeanne's mouth.
As if she would actually drool while contemplating Kjerag's mythological standing! What did Talulah take her for—some sort of gluttonous deity?
Giving the Draco a look of profound contempt, Jeanne reflexively swiped at her chin, only to find it completely dry.
Realizing she had been outsmarted, Talulah bolted for the door with the explosive acceleration of a sprinter, determined to escape the impending retribution. But her hasty launch left her vulnerable.
"Let go of my tail!" Feeling a sharp tug at the base of her spine that threatened to derail her escape, Talulah frantically tried to wrench her fur free from Jeanne's iron grip.
"I happen to have a few fascinating topics I'd like to discuss with you, so don't rush off just yet." Jeanne crept forward step by step, the shadows stretching menacingly behind her.
"Stay back! Alina, save meeeeeee!"
"Do I need to pack summer wear? Kjerag is a snowy realm, so the temperatures shouldn't differ much from the Ursus frostlands, meaning summer clothes are completely unnecessary, right?"
Blissfully unaware of the dramatic rescue cries echoing outside her door, Alina remained entirely absorbed in preparing for the journey, folding her wardrobe with meticulous care.
The following morning, when Talulah limped out of her bedroom, she cast a deeply aggrieved, sideways glance at Alina—who had apparently slept through every single second of last night's commotion.
She had cried out for help for ages, yet the Elafia hadn't heard a peep! Was going on a trip with Jeanne really that intoxicating?
Observing Alina looking as giddy and sleepless as a child on the eve of a holiday, Talulah could only let out a long-suffering sigh and keep her complaints to herself.
"My apologies for last night. I suppose I was simply too keyed up about the packing, and completely missed whatever transpired between the two of you." Catching sight of Talulah gingerly rubbing her lower back as if she had endured an ordeal, Alina offered a prompt, earnest apology, making it clear she was no fair-weather friend.
"Forget it. It's not your fault. Damn it, I am marking this grudge down. Just wait until I find an opening—I won't let her off easily!"
Talulah vented her frustration by savagely tearing into a piece of breakfast bread as if it were Jeanne's personal property, while Alina offered a sympathetic, helpless smile—knowing full well Talulah only ever dared to talk tough when the target wasn't in the room.
Meanwhile, back aboard the landship, Jeanne and Fafnir sat comfortably in a corner of the main lounge, enjoying a generous helping of snacks while treating the surrounding administrative chaos as morning theater.
"Doctor, please hurry up! Dr. Kal'tsit will be returning at any moment, and a massive backlog of unapproved reports still requires your signature!"
Amiya hovered anxiously over the strategist's desk, pleading with the harried feline-in-charge to grow an extra pair of hands as she wrestled with the towering mountain of paperwork.
Though the Doctor hadn't entirely neglected her duties in the preceding weeks, the lack of direct supervision combined with her supreme administrative rank had clearly bred a dangerous level of procrastination.
"Why on earth do I feel such instinctive dread toward her anyway? We technically hold equal executive clearance. What is it about her presence that always makes me feel like I'm standing two inches tall?"
The Doctor muttered under her breath, scribbling furiously while wrestling with her deep-seated psychological mysteries.
"Isn't feeling a bit of professional pressure around Dr. Kal'tsit entirely normal?" Amiya tilted her head in genuine confusion, viewing the stoic feline strategist as the ultimate embodiment of authority and competence.
Unlike the Doctor's erratic humor or Theresa's gentle warmth, Kal'tsit projected an unapproachable aura that warned casual visitors not to test her patience.
"Your body has simply memorized the survival hierarchy. Right now, you look precisely like a husband desperately trying to hide his slush fund right before his wife walks through the front door. You should swap notes with Wei Yenwu sometime." Jeanne remarked with an amused grin, noting how the Doctor didn't even dare pause her pen stroke while conversing.
"Please never mention the Governor of Lungmen in my presence. If he ever suspects that rumors of him being henpecked and hoarding private funds originated from us, our diplomatic trade lines with Lungmen will dry up overnight."
The Doctor hastily reached out to cover the young Cautus's ears, muttering that high-level geopolitical gossip was dangerous material for young minds.
"Relax, even if the truth came out, nobody would ever trace the leak back to you. Plenty of people are actively working to ensure those rumors spread far and wide."
Jeanne waved a hand dismissively. Ever since Nine accidentally let slip a few choice details—and Talulah subtly refrained from correcting them—the tale had blossomed into Chernobog's most famous piece of fireside folklore.
Lately, the narrative had even begun leaking across trade routes toward Lungmen, leaving everyone to wonder how the formidable Grand Duke managed his domestic affairs.
"Regardless, I need to accelerate my pace, or Kal'tsit is going to feed me to the landship's engines..."
The Doctor buried her head back in her work, mumbling incoherently with no one paying enough attention to parse her frantic calculations.
Because standing directly behind her, cloaked in complete, chilling silence, was precisely the individual whose name she had just invoked. Kal'tsit materialized in the office like a ghost, fixing a freezing, expressionless stare upon the back of the strategist's head.
"I refuse to believe Kal'tsit will figure out that half of these reports were hastily fabricated just this morning. My intellect is truly unmatched..." The Doctor muttered mid-sentence, suddenly freezing as she noticed the ambient temperature in the room drop past the freezing point.
She turned her head slowly, coming face-to-face with the piercing green eyes of the stony-faced Feline, feeling every bone in her body lock solid.
"Oh! Dr. Kal'tsit! Welcome back! You must be exhausted from your trip—allow me to brew you a warm cup of tea right this instant!" The Doctor sprang to her feet, transforming into an aggressively attentive subordinate.
"Save the tea for later. Let us review the—actual—results of your administrative output over the past cycle first."
Kal'tsit placed a slender hand directly on top of the unfinished stack, her gaze locked dead onto the trembling strategist.