At the base of the Maiden's Crest, enveloped by the howling blizzard, the Silverash siblings stood face-to-face. Neither was quick to break the silence, each watching the other through the swirling snow.
It had been merely a few days since they last met, yet it felt as though years had passed. The sense of unfamiliarity between them was heavy and palpable.
"We have been apart for so short a time, yet you seem to have changed so completely," Enciodes spoke first, taking a measured step forward, his voice deep and resonant against the wind. "At any other time, I might ask what brought about such a dramatic transformation. But right now..."
He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Right now, I have no time for nostalgic idle chatter. Still, seeing you venture all the way here in person... I admit, I am deeply surprised."
"I did not come here to exchange empty words with you, Enciodes," Enya replied, meeting his gaze with unyielding clarity. "I came for one reason alone: to stop all of this before it goes any further!"
"Stop all of this?" Enciodes let out a quiet, dry laugh that carried a bitter edge. "With matters having reached this stage, you expect me to simply fold my hands and surrender? Do you wish to see me dragged back in chains to face judgment, so our family name can be dragged through the mud while we sit by and watch this nation wither into ruin?"
The anger had faded from his tone, leaving only cold irony. He had assumed that even if Enya resented him personally, she would at least understand the grand necessity driving his actions.
Yet after spending years isolated within the Vine-Bear Court, she seemed to have become just like the vast majority of Kjeragans—capable of seeing no further than the narrow valley right in front of them.
"You must answer for the consequences of your actions, for that is the law of Kjerag," Enya said evenly, her expression serene despite his tone. "Yet you will not be cast aside, for this realm still desperately requires your intellect and capability."
"And what is that supposed to mean?" Enciodes looked at her, finding her words surprisingly difficult to parse.
"It is quite simple. If you choose to stay your hand now, the difficulties lying ahead for our nation will be reduced ten-fold," Enya explained, hoping to reach her stubborn brother through reason. "This entire affair will be presented to the public as a rescue: the head of the Silverash Clan was trapped in the high snows while searching for the missing workers. There will be no mention of an attempted coup."
"And then? Kjerag remains frozen in place, changing nothing, happily drifting along as before?" Enciodes's expression darkened, his tone turning sharp as a trial cross-examination.
"And then," Enya continued without breaking stride, "we begin the necessary reforms together. Arctosz has just sworn an oath before Kjeragandr. He is willing to concede to key aspects of your proposal, and he will personally undertake the task of persuading the stubborn elder traditionalists who have given you so much trouble."
Silence fell over the snowdrift. For a brief second, a flicker of genuine surprise passed through Enciodes's eyes before being replaced by cold skepticism.
"Had I heard those words earlier, I might have felt genuine relief," he murmured. "But now? You expect me to abandon my campaign on the precipice of absolute control, merely because a few old traditionalists offered a minor concession?"
"You will accept it," Enya declared, taking a firm step toward him, completely ignoring the imposing aura he projected. "Because even if you push this clash to its absolute conclusion, what you gain will be far worse than what lies before you now. For if you choose total war, I—along with every remaining house—will stand against you to the bitter end."
A visible tension crackled between them as their eyes locked in the freezing air.
"When that moment comes, those who follow me will never compromise with you," Enya vowed, her voice ringing clear over the storm. "I acknowledge that your heart seeks to build a stronger nation. But that ambition does not grant you the right to ignite a civil war!"
"Look at yourself, Brother. Your path is not infallible," she pressed on. "The root of your friction with Arctosz lies in this exact flaw: you demand that this realm sprint toward tomorrow at breakneck speed, yet you completely disregard the traditionalists who have held this society together for centuries. You cannot simply discard them—they, too, are children of Kjerag!"
Enya understood her brother's nature all too well. It was the precise reason he and stubborn traditionalists like the Paleroches Clan chief were constantly at each other's throats. Both sides harbored their own glaring flaws.
One side refused to learn anything of the outside world, while the other refused to explain the reality of that world, choosing instead to charge ahead alone without looking back.
"I do not know what ideal vision of Kjerag you hold in your mind," Enya said softly, studying his changing expression. "But I know this: if you force this realm into your mold through sheer violence, the nation you construct will no longer be Kjerag. It will have lost its very roots."
Enciodes stood silent for a long moment, his face shifting between shadows of doubt and fierce resolve as he processed her words.
"Have you ever considered another possibility?" Enciodes said quietly, his voice dropping an octave. "What if I have no intention of letting either of you leave this camp? Perhaps you should remain here as my guests and watch how this nation transforms with your own eyes."
With a subtle raise of his hand, the armored soldiers of the Tschäggättä Squadron surrounding the camp began closing the distance, their shield-walls tightening around Enya and Jeanne in a silent show of overwhelming numbers.
Enya took two measured steps back, placing herself beside Jeanne, who stood with an entirely unbothered, relaxed posture.
"It has been a long time since we last crossed paths in Laterano, Your Holiness," Enciodes said, turning his attention to Jeanne as if only now properly acknowledging her presence.
"It certainly has been a while," Jeanne replied casually, seemingly oblivious to the circle of spearpoints and heavy shields surrounding them. "I didn't expect our second meeting to take place in a snowbound camp like this. I rather thought we'd be having tea at your family estate."
Seeing how nonchalantly she carried herself, the surrounding guards exchanged swift glances, unsure whether to press the line or wait for their leader's explicit command.
"I would suggest none of you make any sudden moves," Jeanne remarked lightly, resting a hand against the massive leg of her dragon companion.
The giant beast let out a deep, rumble of a snort, venting a warm cloud of sulfur-scented steam into the freezing air that melted the snow beneath its talons.
The fearsome creature caused several veteran guards to instinctively retreat half a pace. Men who had survived real battles could tell at a single glance how devastating those claws and scales would be against iron armor.
"Had I known you intended to visit our realm, I would have greeted you personally at the border," Enciodes said, offering a polite, measured bow to Jeanne. "However... might I ask that you refrain from interfering in the internal affairs of Kjerag?"
"Let's skip the empty pleasantries," Jeanne waved a hand dismissively. "I doubt you were unaware of my arrival. As for local affairs, I am merely here in a personal capacity to support a friend. You ought to be addressing Enya, not me."
"A friend?" Enciodes echoed, his tone sharpening slightly. "Is a friendship forged in mere days truly enough to bring a prominent foreign figure onto our battlefields? Am I wrong to suspect there might be deeper, unstated motives behind your actions?"
He laid out a dark, deliberate implication, clearly attempting to drive a subtle wedge of suspicion between the two women.
"I know my standing makes people overthink things," Jeanne replied, her eyes narrowing slightly as she looked at him. "But you're the first person to spin it into something so overly dramatic. I'll say it once more: I am here purely because I chose to be."
Silence descended upon the clearing—a heavy, suffocating stalemate.
Enciodes found himself in a delicate dilemma regarding how to handle the Saintess and her formidable companion. Confining Jeanne by force was not only practically impossible given the giant beast at her command, but her diplomatic standing made any hostile move politically disastrous.
"Do you truly insist on settling this through blood and iron?" Enya asked, breaking the silence as she gestured toward the swirling dark clouds above. "What will be left when the dust settles? Nothing but ruins and a broken realm! Do you wish to see Kjeragandr weep for our people?!"
In Kjerag, the gathering of such unnatural, churning storm clouds over the sacred peaks was traditionally seen as the Divine Mother weeping over mortal folly—a sign that called for deep self-reflection.
Enciodes stared up at the dark sky, remaining entirely silent.
He was not a man devoid of faith. Growing up in the heart of this mountain realm, it was impossible to remain untouched by its spiritual heritage; he had simply buried those beliefs deep within his heart to make room for cold, pragmatic calculation.
Now, as he looked at the sky, his buried reverence warred silently against his sharp intellect.
Noticing the faint hesitation flickering across his stoic features, Enya turned back toward the dragon.
"I will not run away," Enya called back over her shoulder as she climbed onto the beast's back. "I shall wait for you in the valley town. I want to see what answer you ultimately choose to give me."
At her unspoken signal, Jeanne urged the giant dragon into motion. With a mighty sweep of its wings that kicked up a blinding cloud of loose powder, the beast vaulted into the stormy sky, carrying the two women up and away from the camp under the watchful eyes of two thousand soldiers.
High above on the surrounding ridge, Ratatos stood near the window of a makeshift lookout, watching the dragon vanish into the storm clouds.
"Honestly..." the Zalak chief muttered to herself with a bitter, exasperated laugh, "would it have killed them to pick me up on their way out?"