It was strange—truly, extraordinarily strange.
How could a single person manage to cycle through half a dozen distinct emotions in less than two minutes, hovering around someone and showering them with praises of absolute perfection without sounding like a shameless flatterer?
Before today, Jeanne had assumed that sort of behavior was reserved exclusively for vanity-obsessed nobles surrounded by yes-men. She never expected an unreadable, stony figure like Kal'tsit to have someone like that constantly hovering in her orbit.
Observing the Doctor, who worked alongside Kal'tsit like an overly attentive servant offering hot tea and fetching supplies, and watching Kal'tsit herself, who hadn't taken a single moment of rest after returning from Kazdel before plunging straight into the backlog of unapproved reports—the dynamic felt undeniably close.
Yet every time Jeanne began to think their connection was exceptionally intimate, a strange, distant friction seemed to pull them apart again.
"Is their daily dynamic always like this? It looks awfully uncomfortable."
"Mmm... pretty much all the time. Most days, the Doctor—"
"I am simply refusing to allow a backlog of paperwork to derail the daily operations of Rhodes Island. Please refrain from looking at us with such gossipy eyes; there is no personal attachment of that nature between us."
Kal'tsit cast a cold glance at the strategist beside her, firmly anchoring her to the chair to process the administrative tasks. If the Doctor thought she could escape her duties simply by serving tea and running errands, she was severely mistaken.
Realizing her little scheme had been thoroughly exposed, the Doctor slumped back into her seat with a crestfallen air, dutifully returning to her assigned reading.
"You didn't even bring me a slice of bread from your trip, and the moment you step through the door you demand I work... Kal'tsit, you're heartless! Ah—I was wrong, please don't hit my head!"
Why does this master strategist act like an aggrieved spouse? Jeanne thought to herself. She glanced over at Amiya, who seemed entirely unfazed by the commotion, and decided to sit back and enjoy the spectacle.
Their dynamic was simply too entertaining to ignore. Jeanne casually accepted a melon slice from Fafnir, enjoying the free entertainment.
"Do not claim I brought you nothing. Theresa specifically asked me to deliver this to you. Make sure to wear it regularly; it should noticeably reduce the frequency of your nightmares."
Kal'tsit tossed a small pendant carved with ancient Sarkaz runes onto the desk. The gesture left the Doctor momentarily speechbound. She genuinely hadn't expected Kal'tsit to bring back something so thoughtful.
"Then... please extend my gratitude to Theresa, and thank you for bringing it back." The Doctor lowered her head, unusually quiet and flustered. Even behind her visor, Jeanne could tell the strategist was blushing.
"I heard about your intention to travel to Kjerag. What is the actual rationale behind this sudden undertaking?" Kal'tsit offered a subtle nod before shifting back to the topic the Doctor had messaged her about earlier.
Her tone lacked any trace of interrogation; she was genuinely inquiring after the Doctor's underlying intentions and strategic objectives.
In other words, Kal'tsit had already tentatively greenlit the excursion. Even though having the Doctor aboard the landship would be preferable for their upcoming deployment plans, she was willing to grant the concession.
"Eh? You actually read the messages I sent over the secure channel? I thought you couldn't be bothered to look at them. Does this mean you're officially letting me go?"
"I have not approved your travel request to Kjerag just yet, which is precisely why I am asking for your reasoning. And in the future, refrain from cluttering that emergency channel with trivial nonsense."
"It wasn't trivial nonsense! That's my official personal log of life aboard Rhodes Island!" The Doctor immediately pushed back, entirely ignoring the sharp, warning look Kal'tsit shot her way.
"Nobody writes five thousand words of 'personal logs' every single day, normal people do not send their private logs to others, and they certainly do not use them to record petty complaints about their colleagues!"
Kal'tsit seized the opportunity to address the communication issue once and for all. Reading through the strategist's daily transmissions was genuinely exhausting.
Particularly when the messages included lines such as: "Why did Kal'tsit assign me so much work today?", "She's so fierce every single day, can't she speak gently for once?", or "Careful, getting angry all the time causes early wrinkles."
Even the less offensive messages were expertly crafted to send Kal'tsit's blood pressure soaring through the roof. The Doctor possessed an almost supernatural talent for stepping directly onto hidden landmines with perfect precision.
Constantly dancing on the edge of Kal'tsit's patience was practically a talent in its own right.
"I simply assumed you never read them anyway, so I figured I might as well send them your way! Keeping a private log all by oneself is boring. Wait... if you actually read all of them, does that mean..."
The Doctor's hands began to tremble as the realization sank in. Her leg muscles tensed, preparing to use every ounce of her limited athletic ability to sprint away from an impending Mon3tr deployment.
"Kal'tsit is an unfeeling old hag, who's going to end up alone forever—I've kept every single one of those phrases locked in my heart, just waiting for a moment like this to—"
"Gosh, I had no idea Kal'tsit had a side like this. Even when she's furious, her tone stays completely icy—what a sight."
Jeanne munched on a slice of watermelon, watching as Kal'tsit—her eyes glowing with a sharp red crimson reminiscent of Patriot—effortlessly snagged the fleeing Doctor by the collar and hoisted the frail strategist into the air with one hand.
Out of nowhere, Kal'tsit produced a bundle of heavy rope, binding the poor Doctor in an extraordinarily embarrassing, contorted posture before hoisting her up onto a heavy wall hook in the corner of the room.
"Well now, you two certainly have quite the colorful dynamic!" Jeanne poked at the suspended, struggling strategist with a finger, completely ignoring her muffled cries for help.
The binding technique was certainly eye-opening. Jeanne wondered if she might adapt a similar approach whenever she needed to handle Talulah back home.
Though on second thought, the likelihood was slim—Talulah commanded flames, and any standard rope would burn to ashes in seconds.
"Let her hang there for a while to cool off. We can deal with her later." Kal'tsit took a slow, deep breath to compose herself before turning to face Jeanne. "When I visited Kazdel, Theresa explicitly instructed me to express her deepest gratitude to you. We truly owe you a great debt for your assistance."
With those words, Kal'tsit offered a solemn, respectful bow. Jeanne found herself wondering—if the feline had a preference for Higashi etiquette.
Receiving such serious gratitude from an unreadable cat made Jeanne feel a faint pang of guilt. Where on Terra had she picked up such mischievous habits?
"From the looks of it, your discussions with Iberia and the combined forces yielded solid results?"
Jeanne was fairly well-versed in the current struggle against the Seaborn. The prevailing posture across the nations remained defensive, focusing primarily on purging infected pockets within the Iberian hinterlands.
"Under current conditions, having access to Iberian personnel who can identify Seaborn contamination—and even detect the presence of Seaborn across a broad radius—is an absolute necessity. This is the first time we've realized we lack enough Damazti to go around."
A rare, faint smile touched Kal'tsit's lips. Even she felt somewhat swayed by the recent turn of events, adopting a slightly less pessimistic outlook on their long-term prospects.
Though much of that newfound confidence rested on the unspoken assurance that Jeanne would step in if push came to shove, having such an anchor was hardly a bad thing.
"I never realized the Damaztis possessed such tremendous utility. If we had known earlier, I imagine formal cooperation between your team and Iberia would have been established much sooner."
"You are mistaken on that point. The Iberia of the past would have attempted to co-opt or even capture the Damaztis by force rather than negotiate with the Sarkaz. Prior to that summit, no power on this continent entertained the notion that the Sarkaz could ever be viable diplomatic partners."
The two continued to exchange thoughts seamlessly. Amiya watched them converse, feeling a genuine wave of happiness for Dr. Kal'tsit—it was rare to see her sitting comfortably with a peer, chatting like old friends.
Silently, the young Cautus slipped out of the office to handle her remaining tasks. As the door clicked shut behind her, she scratched her ear, wondering if she had forgotten something important in the room.
What was it again? Oh well, it probably wasn't important.
"Mmmph! Mmmph! Mmmph! (Is anyone there?! Save me! Don't just leave me hanging here!)"
High up on the wall hook, the bound strategist let out a series of muffled, tragic wails that echoed uselessly into the empty air.