"Since the Grand Elder has entrusted the future of the clergy to my hands, our immediate priority is deciding how to face the man who will soon march upon this place... Enciodes."
Standing before the small assembly, Enya spoke with a bold, steady presence unlike before. She pushed aside all lingering doubts, focusing her full attention on the coming storm.
No one offered an immediate opinion. Arctosz sat in heavy silence—a bitter irony, given he was now the sole clan chief physically present to represent the ruling houses of Kjerag.
"Before setting out, I sent messengers to notify the Browntail Clan," Arctosz growled, breaking the quiet. "They didn't send many warriors to the search party, so they should still have considerable strength back at their estate. But... I'm still torn about whether to reach out to the Silverash Clan. At this point, we'd be lucky if their remaining guards don't ambush us from behind."
At the mention of the Silverash family name, the old chief visibly hesitated. Whether to involve their house in these deliberations was a delicate question indeed.
"Having more bodies would certainly strengthen our position, but we cannot afford to turn this settlement into a battleground," Valais said calmly, offering her tactical perspective as usual. "As I noted earlier, this town is entirely unsafe for a prolonged defense."
Remembering her recent double-dealing in the high passes, both Jeanne and the Doctor fixed sharp, inquisitive gazes upon her.
Valais felt their scrutinizing eyes, but merely offered a brief glance back at the two outsiders. What she had done was done; any punishment or reckoning would have to wait until this crisis concluded.
"My arrangement with Enciodes ended the moment I set foot in this town," Valais explained quietly, addressing the lingering suspicion in the room so the Saintess wouldn't dismiss her counsel out of hand. "From this point forward, I remain a loyal warrior of the Paleroches Clan. What I did in the basin was purely to satisfy my own personal closure."
"The ancient grievances of Kjerag are something we can untangle later," Enya interjected, her deep voice commanding the room. "The question before us right now is whether we truly intend to fight this through to the bitter end. Once open warfare erupts, the hour of its end will no longer be ours to decide."
Enya spoke from the depths of her heart; she refused to watch the people of the snowscapes slaughter one another in a civil conflict that offered no true victory to anyone.
"I understand your heart, Your Holiness," Arctosz said, taking her words as a sign of hesitation. "But Enciodes is dead set on forcing this coup. If we do not raise our axes, are we expected to simply fold our arms and surrender?"
His tone grew impassioned as he leaned forward. "Think of the people of Kjerag! Think of Kjeragandr, who has sheltered our bloodlines for generations! Are we to cast all of that aside for the sake of so-called foreign progress? If we throw away our heritage, will Kjerag even remain Kjerag? Or will it become an empty husk wearing our name?"
"You've seen it yourself—even under my pressure, Enciodes dared to lay hands on the sacred mountain and the tears of the goddess! If we hand total control of this realm over to him, what will be left of our home?"
Arctosz laid bare the root of his fierce resistance against the outside world. He had glimpsed the dark side of rapid modernization—how it shattered the quiet peace Kjerag had maintained for centuries. It brought a brand of chaotic change the old warrior could neither comprehend nor control, stirring a deep, unspoken fear in his heart.
It was no different from his confusion over the factory strikes and infected laborers. He could not fathom why those workers were protesting, nor why traditional Kjeragans seemed unable to survive without machine labor.
In his memory, before factories ever dotted the valleys, every family fed itself and lived in tranquil harmony under the guidance of the Tri-Clan Council.
Incapable of understanding the modern nation Enciodes envisioned, the old chief stubbornly clung to the Kjerag of his youth—a pure, untainted mountain realm that existed mostly in his memories.
"I understand your fears, Arctosz. I know what troubles your spirit," Enya replied smoothly, standing firm against his loud outburst. Over the years, she had encountered countless men who shared his mindset.
"I know you cannot grasp why Kjerag must adapt," she continued softly. "Yet I understand my brother's vision as well. Enciodes has no desire to plunge our homeland into war. If there is any path forward—if both sides are willing to take a step back—he will choose to stay his hand."
"Can you truly be certain of that, Your Holiness?"
"I am certain. Not merely because I know my brother's heart, but because I know precisely what he seeks to achieve," Enya declared with absolute conviction. "That is why I intend to meet him face-to-face. But all of you must remain prepared for battle, in case his ambition drives him down a more destructive path."
Silence descended upon the room once more as Arctosz stared down at the floorboards, his heavy brows knit tight. He sat motionless for so long that the Doctor wondered if the old bear had fallen asleep where he sat.
Finally, he let out a long, heavy breath and looked up.
"If it can put a stop to this senseless bloodshed... I can give my word," Arctosz grunted, every word sounding like a monumental effort. "Within reasonable limits, I am willing to yield ground on his proposed reforms. But he must preserve the core foundation of Kjerag. And I will personally take on the burden of persuading the traditionalists who share my view."
It was evident that making such a concession had cost the old chief immense pride. For an elder as unyielding as mountain granite to step back was nothing short of extraordinary.
"If my brother had received such a pledge from you sooner, perhaps matters would never have escalated to this point," Enya remarked gently. "Yet it is not too late. We still have a chance to change the outcome."
Securing a solemn promise from a man whose word was his bond gave Enya far greater confidence in her upcoming confrontation. Yet one vital element remained.
Turning her eyes toward the corner of the room, Enya looked at Jeanne. "That leaves only one final favor to ask. Jeanne... would you stand by my side once more during this meeting? Will you help ensure I am not taken captive by my brother?"
She needed a guardian of absolute strength and unquestionable trustworthiness—and in all of Kjerag, Jeanne was the only person who fit that description.
Jeanne blinked in slight surprise, though deep down, she realized she had already anticipated this request.
Looking down at the slender hand extended toward her, Jeanne smiled warmly and placed her own palm over Enya's. "Alright then. I'll play the helpful traveler one more time and see you through this."
"Thank you," Enya smiled softly. "I swear on my honor, this will be the final trouble I bring upon you."
Shortly after, the group stepped out into the courtyard, watching as Enya and Jeanne mounted a massive, fearsome dragon before launching into the freezing sky toward the snow-capped ridges.
"Do people in the wider world actually tame beasts like that as ordinary transports?" Valais asked, her eyes wide as she shielded her face against the downdraft, watching the dragon shrink into a tiny black speck against the clouds. Her entire worldview felt thoroughly upended. "I wonder... are such creatures expensive to purchase outside our borders?"
"I'm afraid that beast is Lady Jeanne's exclusive companion," the Doctor replied with a light chuckle, waving a hand dismissively. "If there were a trade route for dragons, Kjerag could buy half the continent with the profits. But reality is cruel—no one besides Jeanne has the ability to command a creature of that scale."
"Is that so?" Valais mused, her eyes still fixed on the distant sky. "Then how formidable must the faction behind her be to command such power?"
She recognized the terrifying military potential of a giant dragon. Had Jeanne come to Kjerag with hostile intent, not even the sacred mountain could have sheltered them from her wrath.
"So, what are your thoughts now, Chief?" Valais asked, turning with a faint, playful smile toward the old warrior beside her. "How does it feel to yield to the changing tides?"
"Given your recent track record, I have no intention of indulging your curiosity," Arctosz grunted, deliberately dodging the topic as he turned on his heel. "I'm going to check on the Grand Elder."
As he walked down the corridor, he passed the Saintess's personal attendant, who seemed to be in exceptionally high spirits today—no doubt overjoyed to see her lady taking charge of her own destiny.
Regardless of how this confrontation ended, the destiny of Kjerag was irrevocably altered. Even Arctosz's stubborn mind had finally grasped that the tide of change could no longer be held back by sheer brute force.
He only prayed that these changes would bring prosperity rather than ruin to his beloved home. For the first time in his long life, the fearless chief felt a faint, nervous tremor in his heart.