"To be perfectly honest, I've always wondered when you and I would finally have this meeting," Enciodes remarked, pouring a cup of steaming tea and handing it to the lady seated across from him. He then sat down, gazing intently at her silent figure. "Would it be after I broke through Kjerag's final stronghold? Or would you seek me out long before everything reached its conclusion?"
Surrounded by towering, snow-covered ridges, the camp remained quiet.
"Nothing to say?" Enciodes tilted his head slightly. "I recall the Browntail Clan chief being the most articulate among us. Why the sudden silence today?"
"If you came to strut around like a victor and dictate terms, you had better wait until your grand triumph becomes reality," Ratatos snapped, casting him a cold glance. "Right now, I have zero interest in trading pleasantries with you!"
She knew full well that his polite demeanor was merely a diplomatic facade.
"You already know why I invited you here, Ratatos," Enciodes said, leaning forward. "I need you and the Browntail Clan to lend me your support. Help me bring a swift end to this struggle so we can minimize unnecessary losses."
"Are you still indulging in such wild daydreams?" Ratatos scoffed, her voice laced with disdain. "Do you truly expect me to betray Kjerag and Kjeragandr to stand at your side?"
"I am not doing this for personal ambition!" Enciodes stood up, a rare flash of passion breaking through his usual stoic composure. "I am doing this for the future of Kjerag! It is precisely because I care for our homeland that I must take this path—because our time is rapidly running out!"
He gestured toward the distant mountain passes. "You have never ventured beyond these peaks, so you cannot comprehend the vast gulf separating Kjerag from the outside world. That gap is so wide that our jagged ridges and harsh winters can no longer shield us! The major powers outside haven't marched on us simply because there is still rich, unclaimed territory elsewhere!"
He paused, letting his words sink in. "You have met those two outsiders. They possess more than enough martial strength to bring this nation to its knees—and for foreign empires out there, doing so wouldn't be much harder."
"You are a sharp woman, Ratatos," he continued, fixing his gaze on her. "Do you truly wish to see our nation's destiny left in the hands of foreign rulers? Where a single decree from an outside throne could send soldiers blasting through our sacred mountains to occupy our homes?"
Ratatos stared at him, momentarily caught off guard by the sheer weight of his conviction. It took her several long moments to gather her thoughts, her sharp eyes studying his face intensely.
"Your words sound compelling enough," she admitted slowly. "Yet what does any of that have to do with you seizing control of this entire realm? Do you intend for the Silverash family to rule over everyone? Or do you expect to sit upon a throne as king, forcing your personal will upon Kjerag under the guise of 'progress'?"
"Even now, I have no intention of wearing a crown," Enciodes replied, his voice dropping to a measured tone. "A fleeting window of opportunity is opening for Kjerag. I only wish to ensure our realm seizes this chance to build true strength. Peace across this continent is nothing more than a fragile illusion, and our time grows shorter by the day."
An anxious intensity flickered in his eyes—the very reason he was willing to risk civil strife to secure control over the realm. He was simply running out of time.
"I care nothing for how future generations judge my name," Enciodes added, his voice firm and unyielding. "Even if they march me to a gallows and hang me after the reforms are complete, so be it! But I will not stand by and watch a golden opportunity slip through our fingers simply because our people choose to cling to narrow, outdated views. That would make us fools!"
"You speak endlessly of opportunities," Ratatos countered sharply. "Yet you conveniently forget that every opportunity carries equal risk!"
"Which is precisely why I sent an invitation to the Doctor," Enciodes explained. "Originally, I hoped to establish a line of communication with the Saintess through Rhodes Island, though certain events unfolded beyond my expectations."
He had stumbled upon intelligence suggesting Rhodes Island maintained ties with the Saintess—partly because a Kazdel representative he had once encountered also served as an operator for their organization. He had spotted her face in an old photograph from some Chair Sliding tournament.
"You certainly leave very little to chance," Ratatos conceded with a reluctant nod, acknowledging the thoroughness of his preparation. "I'll admit you didn't jump into this crisis without a plan."
"Then..." Enciodes began, sensing a shift in her tone.
"However," Ratatos cut in smoothly, her expression hardening, "I still have no intention of aiding your cause. Especially since this is ultimately an internal struggle centered around the Silverash house. The Browntail Clan will only align with the ultimate victor."
Though she understood his broader motives, her responsibility as clan chief remained absolute. She would not jeopardize her people's survival for his ambition.
"The Browntail Clan will stand beside whoever emerges triumphant," she stated firmly. "We refuse to become collateral damage in your crusade."
The warmth drained from the tent instantly. Outside, dark storm clouds gathered across the sky, blotting out the sun and casting the mountain basin into eerie twilight.
"Then watch closely and see how this ends," Enciodes said softly, turning back to his tea. "I only hope you honor your pledge to support whoever holds the field."
Heavy snowflakes began to fall, swirling violently through the air as if trying to bury the coming conflict beneath a shroud of white—or perhaps as if Kjeragandr herself were weeping over the blood that threatened to soak her sacred land.
"Does the weather in this country always flip on a dime?!" Jeanne groaned, brushing a thick layer of snow off her shoulders as they flew through the turbulent skies. "One second it's clear blue, and the next we're flying blind through a blizzard! Any meteorologist coming here would lose their mind!"
She felt a strange, targeted malice lingering in the freezing wind.
"Ancient texts say the sky reflects the mood of Kjeragandr," Enya called back over the roaring wind, adjusting her mantle. "Perhaps the Divine Mother is watching our realm tear itself apart and feels deep sorrow."
"If you ask me, your Kjeragandr is just playing tricks on us," Jeanne muttered, shivering in the draft. "I don't feel an ounce of sorrow from her—she just wants to cause trouble... Whoa!"
Thwack!
A compact snowpack slammed straight into the side of Jeanne's face out of nowhere.
Jeanne stood frozen, wiping the cold slush from her cheek with a stunned expression. She was now entirely certain that Kjeragandr was lurking in the clouds, listening in on their conversation and taking petty revenge!
"Tell me, Jeanne," Enya asked, a soft smile tugging at her lips despite the cold. "Why did you agree to help me today? You stand to gain very little from getting involved."
Truthfully, Enya hadn't been certain Jeanne would step forward when she asked.
"Why?" Jeanne huffed, rubbing her chilly nose. "Because I felt like it! Sometimes you don't need a grand reason to lend a hand—just like your goddess doesn't need a reason to throw snowballs at me! If you really want a reason, maybe it's just because we're both Saintesses. Saintesses ought to look out for each other... Hey! Who puts a snowball inside a cloud?!"
Thwack!
Seeing Jeanne flustered and arguing with the sky, Enya let out a soft, genuine laugh. She closed her eyes and folded her hands, offering a silent prayer into the freezing wind, asking Kjeragandr not to mourn the troubles of the mortal world.
Under her silent prayer, the howling gale seemed to soften slightly, though the thick snow continued to blanket the white mountain range—falling over the armored Tschäggättä Squadron guards, over the confined local soldiers, and settling gently upon Enciodes's shoulders.
Enciodes stood in the center of the camp, staring up at the darkening sky. Around him, the guards raised their shields, gripping their weapons in sudden tension as they spotted a massive shadow breaking through the storm clouds.
Lacking heavy ballistas or siege weapons, the soldiers had to rely entirely on their discipline and courage to face such a terrifying creature, hoping their resolve would hold against the beast.
"Lower your weapons," Enciodes commanded smoothly, his voice deep and composed. "These are not enemies. Our guests have arrived."
Setting down his tea cup, Enciodes smoothed his heavy coat, dusting the fresh powder off his collar. He stepped toward the center of the open clearing, waiting for the arrival.
He had drawn up countless contingency plans, but he had never anticipated that the Saintess would ride straight into his camp on dragonback to confront him in person.
Yet as the giant dragon landed with a heavy thud, spraying snow in every direction, Enciodes caught sight of the figure dismounting alongside his sister. His stoic expression broke into genuine astonishment—which quickly turned into a look of profound relief and quiet satisfaction.
"Enciodes... Brother," Enya said, stepping forward onto the packed snow, her voice clear and unwavering. "Regarding the path you are walking... I believe it is time we had a proper talk."
As the two leaders of the Silverash bloodline stood face-to-face, the dark clouds above seemed to churn violently, swirling directly over the basin.
It was as if the meeting of brother and sister had summoned the full fury of the mountain sky.