Degenbrecher shifted her somewhat stiff frame slightly. Resting obediently to nurse her injuries over the past few days had left the skilled warrior feeling a bit rusty. Coupled with standing out in the howling wind for so long, feeling a tinge of discomfort was only natural.
Fortunately, the four visitors had finally arrived. Had they lingered in town much longer without showing up, she might have considered whether delivering a formal invitation in person was necessary.
Upon hearing the summons, Jeanne and her companions showed no sign of surprise. An invitation from the head of the Silverash Clan had been within their expectations all along; if anything, how long he had waited to send for them was the only surprising detail.
Without delay, the group followed Degenbrecher back to the estate—a place that was hardly unfamiliar to them by now.
Enciodes was already standing at the front gates, ready to welcome them personally. The minor damage caused earlier by the intense duel between Blaze and Degenbrecher had already been fully repaired, leaving the stone courtyard looking exactly as it had before the turmoil.
"Welcome, honored guests, to my humble abode," Enciodes greeted them with a refined bow. "To receive all of you here once more is truly a privilege for the Silverash Clan—"
"Alright, spare us the formal pleasantries," the Doctor cut in briskly, waving her hand. "The last time we met, you were a fairly direct man. How did a few days of quiet turn you into such a smooth-talking courtier?"
The Doctor had zero interest in listening to a stream of empty, polite flattery—especially while standing out in the freezing cold. Besides, they weren't strangers making acquaintance for the first time; what was the point of standing on such ceremony? Beyond wasting time, it served no purpose whatsoever.
Having his speech cut short didn't fluster Enciodes in the slightest. He merely let out a light, awkward cough before gesturing for them to enter the manor.
Inside, the estate was far livelier than before. Key retainers like Courier and Matterhorn stood ready near the foyer, offering a grand, formal welcome on behalf of the household.
"Though it may sound somewhat belated, I am genuinely honored that all of you were willing to accept my invitation after everything that transpired," Enciodes said, inclining his head respectfully.
Moments later, Jeanne and the Doctor were escorted into his private study for a game of chess and a quiet discussion, while Alina and the others settled comfortably in the main lounge.
"I must admit, I am surprised your family members still welcomed you back with open arms," Jeanne remarked, looking around the room as they sat down. "Aren't they worried that after we leave, you'll orchestrate another scheme that drags them back into the line of fire?"
She was genuinely curious about how Enciodes could maintain total trust in retainers who had chosen to stand on the opposing side during the recent crisis.
"It is quite simple: only with me as clan head can they secure the greatest prosperity," Enciodes replied candidly, making no attempt to gloss over his family's internal dynamics. "I have never minded those who hold opposing views. In truth, keeping them in those positions was largely intentional."
"Had my gamble failed, the half of the Silverash Clan that opposed me would have preserved our lineage and standing. Coupled with Karlan Commercial, our house would still possess the means to pursue change down the road."
To execute his vision for Kjerag, he had calculated every contingency—including how to preserve his house's survival should his own bid for power collapse.
The study was tastefully sparse. Aside from a broad wooden desk and a few comfortable armchairs, the walls were lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves packed with volumes from across Terra.
"You seem particularly fond of history," Jeanne noted, noticing several well-worn volumes lying open on his desk—detailed historical chronicles covering Victoria, Ursus, and Yan.
"History teaches principles that living men will rarely tell you," Enciodes smiled faintly, looking down at the worn pages. "It also allows me to borrow the wisdom of the past. I had no mentor to guide my path; the figures in these books were my only teachers."
In his quiet tone, Jeanne and the Doctor caught a faint trace of helpless pragmatism—the inevitable choice of a man forged by isolation.
He was, after all, merely a noble born in a remote mountain nation. To the high aristocracy of Victoria, such a background meant nothing; those arrogant lords wouldn't give a mountain lord a second glance. That he had carved out his current standing and built an international commercial network through sheer willpower spoke volumes of his struggles.
"Perhaps one day you should write your own memoirs," the Doctor remarked with a grin. "It would certainly prove far less dry than standard historical texts, and I imagine it would become quite a bestseller."
The Doctor's eyes drifted to an ornate chessboard resting on a side table. Turning to Jeanne, she added hastily, "You stay away from the board, Jeanne. Playing chess against you is a thoroughly soul-crushing experience. Nobody enjoys it."
The Doctor had personally suffered through the agony of playing against Jeanne. Even without knowing the proper rules, Jeanne could rely on her terrifying, almost supernatural intuition to make moves that completely dismantled any strategy, casually wiping her opponent off the board.
It was enough to plunge any serious chess scholar into existential despair, and for anyone with fragile nerves, quitting the game entirely was a very real risk.
"Am I to assume you harbor a personal bias against me?" Jeanne asked, raising an eyebrow with a playful smirk.
"There is no need to assume—I absolutely do!" the Doctor declared with zero hesitation. She took her seat across from Enciodes, setting down her first pawn to open the match.
"Is her intuition truly that remarkable?" Enciodes asked, mildly surprised as he made his opening move.
"She doesn't play chess—she relies on a cheat-like instinct that tells her exactly where to strike to win," the Doctor grumbled, analyzing the board. "Speaking of which... your opening moves look rather rushed."
"A man in my position cannot afford to linger," Enciodes admitted with a wry chuckle, realizing his piece had stepped into a subtle trap. "Opportunities do not wait for hesitant men. Doing something, even if flawed, is far better than doing nothing at all."
"Yet acting in haste creates oversights you fail to anticipate," the Doctor countered, smoothly lifting one of his captured pieces off the board. "It creates the illusion of quick success, only to cause everything to collapse at the critical moment."
"And yet, doing nothing guarantees greater losses," Enciodes replied calmly. He deliberately sacrificed a minor piece, luring the Doctor's bishop forward so he could trade for a more advantageous position. "Sometimes, taking a calculated risk reveals paths that were previously hidden."
"You had other options available to you," the Doctor noted softly.
"None that were easier," Enciodes countered. "Unless, of course, I introduced a new variable onto the board—an outside force capable of shifting the entire balance of power."
He looked down at the board, where his position was steadily sliding into a disadvantage. Yet he didn't surrender, merely shaking his head with quiet regret.
"Unfortunately, this is merely a game of chess. Securing outside assistance in reality is never simple. One must always watch whether those outside forces will use the opening to satisfy their own greed."
"Because those who offered aid were individuals of high moral standing, I could comfortably invite them into our lands," Enciodes continued, gesturing toward Jeanne and the Doctor. "My only hope was to bring long-overdue change to this static board. Without it, as you see now, there was zero chance of victory—or at best, a pyrrhic triumph that left our nation broken."
He looked at the final configuration of pieces. The outcome of the match was clear; he no longer possessed a path to victory.
Though the Doctor had secured the board, she had lost a considerable number of pieces in the process. She couldn't help but admire his sharp, uncompromising tactical mind.
"You know as well as I do that external aid comes at a price," the Doctor said softly, setting her king down to seal the match. "Even if someone doesn't explicitly demand payment, what is proper should still be offered."
"Karlan Commercial will deepen its partnership with Rhodes Island and Chernobog," Enciodes stated smoothly, laying out his terms. "Whether it be agricultural produce, raw timber, or tears of the goddess, I assure you there is a vast market for our exports."
"So you intend to export the tears of the goddess on a large scale?" the Doctor asked, her expression unreadable. Having witnessed the miraculous properties of Jeanne's holy water, the local mineral failed to shock her.
"It exists in solid form, which makes transport exceptionally easy," Enciodes explained. "And because it must be gathered manually according to tradition, production will remain limited. I can guarantee that for the next few years, Rhodes Island and Chernobog will receive priority supply."
This was the formal expression of gratitude he had prepared. While the tears of the goddess could not match Jeanne's holy water or Rhodes Island's specialized Oripathy suppressants, the mineral was vastly easier to transport than liquids and far cheaper than high-end pharmaceuticals, making it an extraordinarily lucrative commodity for continental markets.
"A priority supply agreement alone isn't quite enough to satisfy us," the Doctor murmured with a subtle, knowing smile.
Enciodes leaned forward, his silver eyes locking onto hers. "What is it you require? So long as it lies within my power, I will do everything to accommodate you."
"You maintain an extensive intelligence network and key connections across Kazimierz, do you not?" the Doctor said, leaning back in her chair with a calm grin. "Lend me those contacts for a while—and act as the bridge to introduce us."