"You finally decided to wake up! Why were you so late getting out of bed today? I tried reaching you yesterday, but my messages went straight to nowhere..."
The second Jeanne stepped out after finishing her morning wash, the Doctor's lively voice immediately rang through her Terminal. Before Jeanne could even formulate a reply, the Doctor bombarded her with a barrage of relentless questions.
The Doctor and Blaze had spent the previous night at the Silverash Clan estate. Blaze and Degenbrecher had gotten completely carried away in their sparring match, hammering away at each other for an entire afternoon until night fell. By the time they both received medical treatment for their cuts and bruises, the sky was already jet black.
As for the outcome, both women claimed it was a draw. Degenbrecher was still nursing her internal injuries and using secondary weapons, while Blaze had abstained from deploying her Originium Arts—neither had fought at full strength, leaving the duel unresolved.
It had been too late to trek back through the snow in the dark, so the Doctor had tried contacting Jeanne to check on her, only to get zero response.
"I was completely exhausted and went straight to sleep after getting back," Jeanne lied smoothly, casting a quick, meaningful glance at Alina beside her. "Do you have any idea how much running around I did yesterday? I desperately needed a full night's rest. Was there something urgent?"
Because of Alina's bold antics, Jeanne was now stuck making up silly excuses on the fly to throw the Doctor off the trail.
Alina showed zero remorse. Instead, she let out a soft, amused chuckle, playfully pinching Jeanne's cheek before resting her head against Jeanne's shoulder, content to sit beside her in quiet affection.
So she was just asleep? But where was Alina at the time? They couldn't have both been out cold, could they?
Though a tiny seed of doubt flickered in the Doctor's mind, she didn't press the matter further. Still, a strange feeling lingered...
"Something feels a bit off... but whatever, it's not important," the Doctor's voice bounced through the speaker. "There is something major, though. Right before we made it back down, the Grand Elder passed away. The clergy is preparing to hold a formal funeral service."
"So the old gentleman has truly passed..." Jeanne murmured, remembering the frail old man who had treated her with such strict distrust. "That is indeed sad news."
She paused before asking, "How did the noble families react? If they found out what happened right before his collapse, wouldn't it drive a new wedge between them?"
Even though the Grand Elder had reached an age where death could claim him at any moment, his sudden passing during this fragile transition toward peace could easily become an unspoken thorn between the houses.
"There was no uproar at all. Everyone simply felt deep sorrow over his passing," the Doctor reported, recalling the leaders' reactions from the previous evening. "The old gentleman left behind a detailed last will settling all administrative affairs of the Vine-Bear Court. I don't know every single detail, but guess who was by his side when he drew his final breath?"
"Kjera?" Jeanne guessed instantly upon hearing the Doctor's tone.
Having the goddess he worshipped guide him into the beyond was perhaps the absolute best ending the old man could have asked for.
"Bingo. It's no fun when you guess it on the first try," the Doctor grumbled, her enthusiasm deflating slightly. "Anyway, we plan to pay our respects once things settle down. Even if it's not strictly our business, showing up feels like the right thing to do."
Jeanne agreed with her proposal. However, with the funeral preparations currently underway, now was hardly the time for visitors, so the matter was set aside for the moment.
With the crisis resolved and Enciodes back at the helm of his clan, everything was returning to its proper groove. For the first time since arriving, the group could finally experience what an actual vacation felt like.
Restored to its tranquil daily routine, Kjerag was truly a beautiful mountain realm. Because of its long isolation from continental affairs, the local populace didn't harbor complex schemes; their way of thinking was simple and direct.
Even their local street vendors operated with an endearing lack of subtlety. Along the main market street, Jeanne had already counted at least five different merchants using the exact same scripted pitch to try to scam their group of obvious foreign tourists.
"Do your merchants not even bother changing their sales pitch when trying to fool people?" the Doctor asked, turning to Ensia. With the political storm settled, the young snow leopard had happily volunteered to serve as their tour guide.
"I am definitely telling my brother about this when we get back!" Ensia covered her forehead in utter embarrassment. "He needs to regulate these market stalls. At the very least, they should put some effort into their pitches!"
Watching the merchants hawk their wares with zero sincerity was enough to make her want to hide her face in a snowdrift.
"As long as the goods themselves aren't counterfeit, there's no need to be too harsh on them for exaggerating a bit," Jeanne remarked with a smile. "You've met Closure before, haven't you? You of all people should know how merchant tricks work."
Jeanne remembered that Closure was not only Rhodes Island's lead engineer, but also ran a small onboard procurement shop packed with an impossibly vast inventory.
In her shop, you could find everything from symbolic tokens belonging to Sargon padishahs to legendary Yan talismans, and even rusty scrap metal claimed to be fragments of Victorian steam armor—if you could name it, she claimed to sell it.
The catch was that eighty percent of those items were completely useless. The padishah linked to the token had been overthrown by his own son years ago, the Yan talisman was drawn by a traveling con artist, and the steam armor piece was just a slab of discarded iron plate.
"I actually bought a piece of obsidian from her once!" Jeanne recalled, grinding her teeth at the memory of her naive early days. "She swore up and down it came directly from Siesta and had special health-boosting properties. I found out the next day it was just a regular rock!"
"To be fair, that obsidian really did come from Siesta," the Doctor chimed in defensively on her engineer's behalf. "You didn't get scammed on the origin!"
"Speaking of gifts... should we buy something to bring back for Talulah?" Jeanne asked, browsing through the small wooden trinkets laid out on a stall. "Though I have a feeling she won't care much for any of this."
Leaving Talulah behind at home to watch over the kids while they enjoyed a snowy getaway made Jeanne feel a faint pang of guilt. Bringing back a souvenir felt like the least she could do.
"What about that one over there? I think she might find it interesting," Alina suggested, pointing toward a small shop further down the street where several portable hand-warmers were displayed.
Jeanne walked over and picked up one of the simple metal warmers, turning it over in her hands. Clearly stamped across the brass base were the words: Manufactured in the Nomadic City of Chernobog.
"You're suggesting I buy a souvenir from Chernobog... to give to Talulah?" Jeanne held the warmer up, imagining the baffled, deadpan look on Talulah's face when she opened the box.
Without a second thought, Jeanne paid the merchant and bought it anyway—purely for the joy of seeing Talulah's priceless expression when she received a gift brought all the way from Kjerag that had been made in her own hometown.
"I didn't realize you had such a mischievous streak," Alina teased with a soft giggle. "Knowing full well how she'll react, yet buying it anyway."
"Look who's talking! You were the one who pointed it out in the first place," Jeanne nudged her playfully. "If we're talking about mischievous streaks, you're just as guilty..."
For the next three days, the group strolled casually through the valley town, enjoying a peaceful respite without bothering any of the local leaders. The noble families had their hands far too full to entertain foreign guests anyway.
With the old Grand Elder gone, a successor had to be appointed to lead the Vine-Bear Court. The dynamic between the new leadership, the Saintess, and the Tri-Clan Council was still in its delicate, formative stages.
As for the rumors that someone had poisoned the old man's mead, not a single whisper circulated among the public. It was as though no one had seen Valais enter the Grand Elder's chambers that day, leaving the secret buried beneath the quiet snow.
This peaceful routine continued until three days later, when Jeanne and her companions attended the solemn funeral service for the old man who had dedicated his entire life to Kjerag. There, amidst the mourning crowd, they finally reconnected with several familiar faces they hadn't seen in days.