Talulah stared at Jeanne with an expression of sheer disbelief. What kind of strange brain function made this woman spew such nonsensical remarks? Was Jeanne's sole purpose in joining her to constantly tempt Talulah into beating her up?
Unfortunately, Talulah immediately remembered a tragic reality: she was no match for the girl standing in front of her. No matter how infuriating Jeanne's words were, Talulah simply couldn't win a fistfight against her.
Don't get mad... Don't get mad... You acknowledged her as a friend, Talulah pleaded with herself internally, desperately keeping her temper in check. She's a bit foolish, but you can't just throw her away, right?
Getting pinned down and beaten up over a stupid joke really wasn't worth the loss of dignity...
"Don't you think there are royal Draco relics buried down here too?" Talulah pinched Jeanne's cheeks with a deceptively sweet smile, squeezing until the flesh puffed out. The terrifying glint in her eyes made it clear she was anything but unbothered—she was merely choosing a less painful way to retaliate. "Doesn't that mean you led me down here to dig up my own ancestral graves? How do you plan to settle this with me?"
"When you put it like that... you actually have a point," Jeanne nodded in full agreement after barely a second of consideration. Then, without missing a beat, she grabbed Fafnir by her little collar and began scolding her sternly.
"Look at what a mischievous dragon you've been! Dragging us down here to raid your Auntie Talulah's ancestral tomb! Hurry up and apologize to your... Auntie~ Talulah~!"
Jeanne emphasized the word 'auntie' with sharp, playful malice, then raised her chin to offer Talulah a seemingly innocent smile. It was the exact kind of smug face that made a person's blood boil!
"Don't worry about it, Jeanne... Grandma!" Talulah retorted smoothly, trading petty jabs about their ages.
The two friends glared at each other in a childish standoff, falling silent for a long moment.
Fafnir, still trapped in Jeanne's arms, looked up at her guardian with absolute disbelief. This shameless woman had just dumped a massive, mountain-sized blame directly onto her tiny shoulders!
Fafnir might not technically be human, but Jeanne was being a total hound! She didn't hesitate for a single second to throw a poor dragon under the cart to save her own skin!
Fafnir stared at Jeanne in sullen silence, her slender tail and small feet kicking relentlessly against Jeanne's knees to vent her burning rage.
When Kal'tsit finally walked into the lower vault, this was the bizarre sight that greeted her. The scene was so profoundly absurd that even the ancient Feline physician, despite her centuries of experience, found herself temporarily lost for words. She could only lament in her mind that her long lifespan still hadn't prepared her to handle such absurd nonsense with grace.
Off to one side was a cluster of captured Sarkaz soldiers doing their absolute best to play ostriches. They huddled together, heads tucked so low they didn't even dare look up to see who had entered. It was obvious they had been beaten within an inch of their lives.
And not far from them lay a jagged pile of... well, what used to be soldiers. Looking at the heap of Sarkaz warriors whose horns had been forcibly broken off—and whose tails were missing entirely—Kal'tsit quietly realized she might have arrived a bit too late.
When those terrified Sarkaz caught sight of Kal'tsit and Ascalon, they nearly burst into tears of overwhelming joy. They didn't care who had arrived; as long as someone rescued them from that little devil, they would offer prayers to the sky. They truly understood their mistakes now! Being sent back to Kazdel as ordinary originium miners sounded like a luxury vacation compared to staying in this room!
Observing the shattered, hopeless state of these troops, Kal'tsit realized Jeanne had inadvertently done them a massive favor—saving Rhodes Island a tremendous amount of time and effort in subduing the remnant force.
"Are you three... engaged in some sort of local Ursus folk game down here?" Kal'tsit asked evenly as she stepped deeper into the cavern, taking in the strange, tense atmosphere surrounding the sword pedestal.
"Also... it has been a long time, Gawain," she turned toward the resting golden lion, addressing him with the calm familiarity of an old acquaintance.
Gawain, who had endured a truly chaotic day, gave Kal'tsit an exceptionally odd look. For a fleeting second, he suspected this entire disaster had been orchestrated by her. He almost wanted to leap up and ask this ancient Feline whether she had deliberately guided these two terrifying monsters to his tomb!
"I can hardly consider a reunion with you a cause for celebration," Gawain rumbled, his deep voice heavy with exasperation. "If memory serves, nothing good ever happens whenever you show up."
Gawain possessed zero interest in the enigmatic Feline. Under normal circumstances, his proud nature meant he wouldn't spare her a single word.
However, considering that his current young Aslan charge was currently living aboard her landship—and even serving as an operator under her command—he forced himself to offer a lukewarm, albeit standoffish, greeting.
Just as he said, whenever Kal'tsit crossed paths with a Beast Lord like him, it inevitably meant this land was facing yet another apocalyptic catastrophe that required their intervention. Over the centuries, even an ancient lion like Gawain had grown somewhat weary of seeing this stoic, expressionless Feline.
"Rest assured," Kal'tsit replied smoothly. "While the current situation across Terra is far from peaceful, things have not devolved to the point where your intervention is required. As a Beast Lord, you need only focus on your own duties."
"Hey... don't you get the feeling that no matter what strange, mythical figure pops out, Kal'tsit somehow knows them?" Jeanne leaned close to Talulah's ear, whispering in a low hush. "At this rate, if a Seaborn starts speaking human words one day, I wouldn't even be surprised if its first words were 'Instructor Kal'tsit'."
Talulah nodded in quiet agreement, though her gaze drifted toward Jeanne with genuine concern for her intellectual well-being.
This cavern is minuscule. Do you honestly think your 'whisper' was quiet enough to escape her ears? Can't you see Kal'tsit's cat ear twitching uncontrollably right now?
The only reason Kal'tsit hadn't called her out was sheer tolerance. Talulah wisely chose to keep her mouth shut, resolving to avoid provoking the ancient doctor whenever possible.
Having noticed Kal'tsit's twitching ear herself, Jeanne suddenly realized that her commentary had almost certainly been overheard. Panicking slightly, she immediately looked for an excuse to flee the scene.
"You guys captured Theresis, right? I'm going to take a look!" Jeanne blurted out, remembering the Sarkaz Regent who had managed to 'escape' her grasp earlier.
If Kal'tsit hadn't explicitly asked her to let him go—insisting that Kazdel's internal affairs be left to the Sarkaz themselves—that man would never have made it out of this vault alive.
Kal'tsit let out a quiet sigh of relief as Jeanne scampered off with Talulah in tow. Turning back to Gawain, her expression grew serious as she prepared to discuss far more sensitive matters.
Specifically, the Aslan royal key in her possession, and the young woman currently operating under the codename Siege aboard her landship.
While Jeanne's chaotic intervention had cleared a massive path for them, it had also escalated tensions across Victoria to a boiling point. With the grand dukes deprived of their city-guarding knights and steam armor units, no one could predict what reckless moves they might pull next.
Rhodes Island needed to carefully weigh its involvement in Victorian politics; walking this path was like treading a tightrope over a sheer abyss. One wrong step could drag not just Rhodes Island, but the newly reborn nation of Kazdel, down into the flames.
"Now, we can speak freely," Kal'tsit said, fixing her gaze on the Beast Lord standing behind the Aslan throne. "I need to hear your true thoughts before we decide our next move."
Meanwhile, Jeanne carried Fafnir out of the inner mausoleum, her initial desire to mess with the captive Regent evaporating the moment she saw him. Compared to the Rhodes Island operators, she felt she was practically a saint of mercy.
Theresis was currently bound so tightly he looked like a metal-plated mummy. The operators, thoroughly terrified of his legendary martial prowess, hadn't trusted standard ropes; they had wrapped heavy, industrial steel chains around him in thick, tight layers.
"Look at that metallic sheen..." Talulah remarked, examining the prisoner's tight wrappings with a raised eyebrow. "Are those chains forged from solid D23 steel? Rhodes Island really spared no expense just to keep this guy pinned down."