Jeanne and Talulah weren't particularly put off by Patriot's words; they were simply surprised that the old gentleman still possessed such a hidden talent. Does he have an ability similar to Revelation? If so, why haven't I seen him use it before? Are there constraints?
To Jeanne, the concept of an "awakened Sarkaz bloodline" was difficult to grasp. She didn't quite understand the sensation of power flowing through one's veins. Perhaps, like the Draco, it was a hereditary gift—the kind of strength that manifested as long as the bloodline remained pure.
The two women hadn't expected that before they could even speak, the old man would have already guessed nearly eighty or ninety percent of what was coming.
"Your intuition is correct, Mr. Patriot. While handling my private affairs during this trip, I did indeed receive some rather unpleasant news..."
Talulah proceeded to recount their meeting with the "other" Kashchey and the final warning she had provided. The elites of Kazdel were finding ways to infiltrate Ursus territory. Their objective was the man standing before them: the Last Pure-blooded Wendigo.
Patriot stood silent, unable to find words. Only the flickering of his crimson eyes—brightening and dimming in turns—betrayed the fact that his heart was far from calm.
Even though he had mentally prepared himself for such a day, hearing that even the Royal Court elites of Kazdel had been mobilized left him shaken. When he had led the Wendigos away from Kazdel all those centuries ago, the Royal Guard hadn't even come to stop him. So why now?
Had Kazdel become so desperate that it needed the strength of the Wendigos again? Or had the war between the Twin Kings finally reached a conclusion, and they intended for him to return to participate in the Royal Court meetings?
In Kazdel, Patriot's status was essentially equal to that of the Sanguinarch or the Banshee Queen. This was a covenant etched into the very blood of the Sarkaz. Even if he had turned his back on Kazdel, he remained one of the members of the Ten Royal Courts. As long as the Wendigo bloodline had not completely vanished, that ancient covenant remained in effect.
However, Patriot's relationship with Kazdel had long since devolved into a complete silence. He knew less about the current state of Kazdel than Mudrock did.
"Regardless of their purpose in seeking me out, it is foreseeable that the reunion will not be a pleasant one..."
Patriot's resolve was firm. He would not grant any of their requests, no matter what they might be. He had severed his ties with that land, and the price the Wendigos had paid for the Sarkaz cause had been too heavy already. He had no reason to help them.
But in this moment, his first thought was to face the Kazdel delegation alone. This was his private burden, and he did not want to drag Talulah and the others into it.
"When the time comes, I will go to meet those Sarkaz myself. I ask only that you help me reason with Yelena..."
"But this is no longer just your business, Mr. Patriot. I believe I know exactly why they are coming here. Do you recognize this?"
Jeanne interrupted him before he could commit to a solo suicide mission. She reached for her neck, unhooking the Golden Horn and holding it up before Patriot's eyes.
She wasn't entirely sure if Patriot would recognize it, but she remembered him mentioning that Wendigos inherited memories. She hoped there would be some lingering impression.
Patriot looked at the pendant-like object. Though he was confused by the implication of Jeanne's words, he leaned down to observe it closely. To his eyes, it looked like a very ordinary piece of gold jewelry—roughly made and showing no special characteristics...
But he trusted Jeanne. She wouldn't tease him with a useless bappet. He focused his gaze intently on the small object. At the same time, he began flipping through the ancient memories etched in his mind, searching for anything related to this shape. He was certain he had never seen it in person.
Then, at that very moment, the blood deep within his body seemed to wake up. For a split second, Patriot felt as if he were standing in the place where the souls of all Wendigos sleep.
The last time he had felt this was when he received his own prophecy: The last pure-blooded Wendigo shall die at the hands of the black Demon King. Back then, he had felt the souls around him wailing in grief, lamenting the reality that their bloodline would end with him.
But now, those souls were boiling. Through Patriot's eyes, they saw the Golden Horn, and those who knew its secrets became incredibly active.
Patriot saw the distant past. A Sarkaz stood outside a city. He blew into the horn toward the walls, and then... a Catastrophe descended upon the land...
"!!!!!"
Patriot, who had been leaning in to inspect the ornament, suddenly snapped upright. His crimson eyes flickered unstable sparks, revealing his extreme agitation.
"Where... did you get this? It should have... vanished from the world... along with those Sankta... during the First Dynasty..."
Before he could even finish the question, the answer echoed in his mind. Yes, the ones who disappeared with it were those who transformed into the Sankta. And the destination of Jeanne's recent journey was none other than Laterano—the paradise those people had spent centuries building.
"Laterano... I see. No wonder... some within the Court... have always held... a strange obsession with that city..."
Patriot searched the memories inscribed in his soul. Almost every time Kazdel had a moment to breathe, someone would begin plotting an operation against Laterano. If it weren't for this resonance, which allowed him to glimpse the past, he would have assumed it was merely a grudge that had lasted far too long.
After all, the slaughter between Sankta and Sarkaz was a messy account in the current Sarkaz history books—one with no clear starting point.
"You really do know what this is. Then you should understand why I say their ultimate goal is likely me... and this thing."
Patriot nodded slowly. He understood the gravity of the situation now; this was an event of such magnitude that a single wrong move could bring destruction to the world.
Jeanne—the one who could freely command the Horn—was at the center of the storm. Ironically, she likely wouldn't be the one harmed; no one was foolish enough to provoke a saintess who could destroy their country with a single impulsive act. At least, not until they figured out a way to take the Horn for themselves. But those around her? Their safety was far from guaranteed.
On this land, there was a shortage of many things, but fools in high positions with mental illnesses were spread across the globe.
"This is not... the place for this talk. Come to... my quarters."
Patriot looked around. Though no one was currently nearby, it was improper to discuss such things in the open. He walked over to his Shieldguards and whispered a few words; Jeanne and Talulah saw the soldiers nod before departing.
"Follow me. My camp... is secure. The fewer who know... the better."
Patriot wasn't just worried about traitors spreading the word; he knew that knowing too much brought no benefits. If someone heard about the Horn and was later surrounded by enemies, there was no telling if they might try to trade that information for their own life.