When Jeanne originally made the decision to venture into Kazdel, she believed she had already mentally insulated herself to a certain degree against the scenes of dereliction and systemic collapse she was bound to witness.
Yet, when she truly beheld the unvarnished reality of this nation, she discovered she had grossly underestimated the severity of the situation.
The level of absolute ruin and infrastructural decay blanketing the cities far transcended anything Jeanne could have realistically conceived—assuming the ramshackle settlements scattered across this landscape could even be classified as cities to begin with.
As far as the eye could see, the outermost fringes of this country didn't contain a single permanent structure worthy of the title. The environment was entirely dominated by hastily assembled, dilapidated shelters, exuding an overwhelming aura of profound desolation.
Jeanne felt that even the grueling wilderness of the Ursus snow plains offered a significantly more hospitable standard of living than what the denizens of this sector endured. She had never imagined a sovereign nation could exist under such catastrophically harsh environmental parameters.
If one were to draw a direct comparison between this borderland and the interior of Babel, the landship could easily be described as a pristine paradise! As Jeanne navigated the cracked roads, the relaxed, easygoing posture she had maintained previously began to steadily evaporate from her visage.
She could plainly discern that relentless, unchecked warfare had thoroughly ground this nation into unrecognizable ruins. Anyone gazing upon this fractured country for the first time would be instantly struck by a singular, unavoidable realization: the interminable civil war consuming this land had to be brought to an immediate halt.
However, while she was pondering these structural issues, Jeanne had a far more immediate tactical problem to resolve—namely, a coordinated cluster of wandering Sarkaz raiders who were currently closing in on her position, clearly intending to orchestrate a highway robbery.
These individuals did not possess the aura of combatants who would be easily dealt with. The deeply ominous, predatory glint radiating from their eyes was enough to evoke a subtle layer of goosebumps on an ordinary observer; they truly resembled malevolent specters that had clawed their way out of the depths of the underworld.
Evidently, they had observed a lone, seemingly defenseless young woman escorting a small child down the main thoroughfare of Kazdel. To their opportunistic sensibilities, she presented herself as an exceptionally soft target, and her healthy complexion strongly implied she possessed a decent reservoir of financial assets.
Even though Jeanne had operated with extreme discretion throughout this entire journey—to the point of guiding Fafnir to entirely secluded, unpopulated locales whenever the child needed to feed—she had still managed to attract the focus of these opportunistic predators.
"What is the meaning of this?" Jeanne inquired, her tone remarkably serene as she surveyed the closing perimeter. Her breathtaking facial features betrayed not a single modicum of dread regarding her entrapment; her posture remained as loose and unbothered as if she had merely run into an old acquaintance on the street.
As for Fafnir beside her? The child was currently occupied with gnawing on a portion of bread that was functionally harder than black bread. She tore into the dense starch with the unbothered ferocity of an apex predator cracking open a marrow bone, completely disregarding the hostile elements circling them.
The duo naturally lacked any rational baseline to fear that these brigands might inflict physical harm upon them. After all, even if one were to conceptually bind all these mercenaries together into a unified front, they still wouldn't possess the martial capability to breach their targets' defenses; the sheer disparity in raw power was simply too astronomical.
At that exact junction, Jeanne had already finalized a mental plan to unleash a torrent of purifying flames to reduce these hostiles to ash. This was by no means the initial batch of highwaymen who had attempted to intercept her path during her travels, and she had grown highly proficient at counteracting their standard operational procedures.
These mercenaries were visibly seasoned, methodical veterans. As they deliberately constricted their formation around Jeanne, a highly unusual, chemical odor began to subtly drift through the air—a scent that strongly resembled some sort of knock-out gas or specialized poison.
Yet, such underhanded tactics were fundamentally incapable of affecting Jeanne. Just as she noted their intent to strike and prepared to summon her flames to obliterate her assailants, a sudden, sharp sequence of noises shattered the silence.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
It was a rapid, rhythmic volley of gunfire. Following the reports of the firearms, the Sarkaz mercenaries positioning themselves to surround her suddenly began to burst apart one after another, their bodies mangled by what were evidently no ordinary bullets.
Realizing they had lost the element of surprise to an armed counter-force, the surviving Sarkaz raiders abandoned all thoughts of engaging. A few of the more heavily built mercenaries spun on their heels and attempted to flee into the terrain, only to be systematically picked off by a subsequent trail of incoming rounds.
"Are you unharmed? Have these bastards truly degenerated to the point of targeting a mother traveling with her child?"
A heavily equipped Sankta strode out from the defensive perimeter toward Jeanne's position, immediately inquiring after her physical well-being.
Jeanne could easily discern that this individual was likely a security escort attached to a Sankta merchant caravan. They had presumably been transiting the highway when they spotted the mercenaries positioning themselves to ambush the duo, prompting them to intervene with lethal force.
"When have those monsters ever spared a living soul? Laterano idiom. Heavens, they even deployed poison? Quickly, let us escort these two away from this site. They must be utterly terrified."
Without even waiting for Jeanne to articulate a response, the guards gently but firmly ushered her away from the blood-stained road and toward their parked convoy, even going so far as to pour her a cup of hot tea once she was safely aboard.
Aren't these people being a bit too hospital? Jeanne thought to herself. Do they possess absolutely no suspicion? Are they not even remotely concerned that I might harbor malicious intent or be masquerading to infiltrate them?
Jeanne glanced toward Fafnir. Under the enthusiastic invitations of several Sankta caravan members, the young dragon had already abandoned all pretense and was aggressively dismantling a sizable pile of cakes. Shaking off her bewilderment, Jeanne turned to her saviors to express her gratitude.
"Thank you so much for your timely intervention. If you hadn't arrived to provide such swift support, I'm afraid the two of us would have been in grave danger facing those terrifying individuals..."
While Jeanne knew with absolute certainty that those highwaymen couldn't have scratched her, it didn't diminish her genuine appreciation for these Sankta who had willingly assumed tactical risks to rescue a stranger.
Furthermore, pretending to be a fragile, helpless woman allowed her to comfortably conceal the reality that she could have easily perforated the skulls of those raiders herself. There was simply no practical imperative to demonstrate her martial supremacy in a scenario like this; maintaining her civilian guise was far more convenient.
"You two are far too reckless! Kazdel is absolutely not a place anyone should be wandering through right now, let alone traversing such a volatile region with a young child... Huh? Wait a moment, why do you look so familiar to me?"
The Sankta guard who had been watching Fafnir focus entirely on her pastries turned back to speak with Jeanne. However, the moment he properly locked eyes with her face, a profound sense of familiarity washed over him. The longer and more meticulously he scrutinized her features, the more uncanny the resemblance became.
In truth, this particular guard had never personally laid eyes on the Holy Saintess herself. During Jeanne's tenure within Laterano, his external security assignments had kept him deployed far outside the capital. By the time he finally returned, the only visual reference available to him was the official sacred figurines created in her honor.
Gazing upon Jeanne's facial structure now, his immediate, instinctual reaction was to wonder if the woman sitting before him was the Saintess herself. The physical layout matched almost perfectly, yet... there was an inexplicable nuance that felt subtly off to his senses.
"Oh? I don't believe we have ever crossed paths before," Jeanne replied smoothly. "Could it be that someone you know happens to share a strong facial resemblance with me?"
"Perhaps... but the likeness is truly uncanny..."
Hearing Jeanne's casual dismissal, the Sankta guard began to hesitate. After all, the current Jeanne carried herself with a temperament that diverged somewhat from the rigid, divine aura associated with the Saintess, and her skin tone possessed natural qualities that couldn't be easily replicated or disguised.
"Do you have a specific destination in mind?" the guard asked, shaking off his doubts. "As it happens, I am currently tasked with escorting a group of passengers to a specific location. If you are heading in a similar direction, I can easily arrange to drop you off along the way!"
Despite failing to definitively identify Jeanne as the Saintess, the fact that her visage was a ninety-percent match for the revered figure compelled him to treat her with immense deference, to the point of willingly altering his itinerary to accommodate her journey.
As to why he felt such a powerful impulse? When they initially executed the rescue, the security team's plan extended only as far as depositing the stranded pair at the nearest frontier settlement, definitely not transporting them directly to their final destination.
Perhaps it truly stemmed from her echoing resemblance to the Saint. He simply felt an innate, powerful impression that the young woman was profoundly benevolent, causing his subconscious to actively seek ways to assist her.
Besides, his vehicle was already transporting a contingent of passengers anyway; appending one more woman and a child to the manifest wouldn't introduce any logistical strain.
"How could I impose upon you like that? If it isn't too much trouble, you may simply drop me off at the very next town," Jeanne responded, her expression carefully channeling a layer of polite embarrassment. In all honesty, she preferred to disembark immediately.
However, she knew that if she demanded to be let down in the middle of nowhere, this exceptionally warm-hearted Sankta would almost certainly refuse to leave her stranded.
The guard didn't press the matter further. He simply gestured for them to relocate to one of the trailing transport vehicles to rest, mentioning that the specific carriage was configured entirely for passenger transit.
It was only then that Jeanne realized Laterano merchant convoys occasionally moonlit as civilian transport services, though under normal historical circumstances, very few travelers were insane enough to contract a caravan to ferry them deep into the heart of Kazdel.
The sheer, lethal volatile index of this nation required no elaborate explanation; merely uttering the word "Kazdel" was sufficient to deter any rational civilian.
Thus, Jeanne had inadvertently secured a highly convenient, hitchhiked ride to the subsequent settlement. Still, as she recalled the guard mentioning there were other passengers from Laterano sharing the carriage, she couldn't help but wonder who they might be.
The moment she stepped through the threshold of the passenger compartment and locked eyes with the figures seated inside, she could not help but mentally marvel at how incredibly small the world truly was.
"Huh? Saintess... Big Sister?"
A joyful, melodic exclamation rang out from a young child seated within the vehicle.
It was a small Sankta girl, sitting immediately beside her mother, whose physical complexion looked noticeably healthier and more revitalized than when they had last crossed paths.
"It has been quite some time, little Cecilia," Jeanne said, a warm smile spreading across her face as she greeted the ecstatic little girl.