During the tour, Jeanne and Talulah quietly exchanged subtle glances, using their eyes to convey their shared confusion over the strange turn of events.
Were they truly brought aboard just to play the role of esteemed guests? It certainly didn't feel that way, yet they hadn't spotted a single trap or hidden ambush along their path.
The two briefly pondered the anomaly, but as the crowd of surrounding officers gradually thinned out, they kept their hushed speculation to a minimum.
"I heard this warship's primary keel was crafted from the sovereign city of Gaul's old capital," Talulah remarked, scanning the massive vaulted structures around them as if making casual conversation.
"Indeed," the old Duke replied, a swell of pride coloring his voice. "I led the forces that breached Lingones and seized that very district. When the land was ceded to my command after the war, I decided to refashion its grand spine into a sovereign mobile warship."
Speaking of the war, a fiery look of military honor flickered in the veteran's eyes. Even after all these years, he held his achievements during the War of the Four Emperors as the pinnacle of his life's glory.
"And now, that grand city lives on as the proudest flagship in Victoria," Wellington added, casting a thoughtful look back at the two women. "Time works in fascinating ways. I suppose in a few more decades, the name Lingones will be entirely forgotten by the world."
His words carried a heavy double meaning, hinting at far more than just a fallen capital lost to the pages of history.
"I wouldn't be so sure," Jeanne spoke up first, her clear voice breaking the silence. "Even if a nation is reduced to ash, there will always be those who remember its name. Just like the Tarans—even though their historic lands are long gone, aren't there still people fighting to restore their past glory?"
As she spoke, Jeanne looked up at the towering steel beams above them. The original Gaullish framework had been left intact, making this section the only part of the warship that retained a distinct Gaullish architectural flair. It was clearly a spot the Duke brought every distinguished visitor to, subtly showing off the prized trophies of his past conquests.
Wellington's eyes widened slightly in surprise. He scrutinized the blonde girl standing before him, then gave an approving nod.
"You speak the truth," the old man mused. "Just like Taran history, no matter how many years slip by, people will always cling to the ghost of a grand past. Yet, there remains a vital difference between the two."
He paused deliberately, letting the silence hang in the air as he glanced between Jeanne and Talulah before delivering the rest of his thought.
"When Victoria annexed Taran land, the soil remained, and a fragment of its living culture survived with it. No matter how harshly the Victorian crown cracked down on their heritage, the Taran people maintained a stubborn resilience. But Gaul..."
He left the sentence unfinished, though both Jeanne and Talulah understood his meaning completely. A nation that had lost every shred of its homeland was nothing more than rootless duckweed drifting on the tide.
The Tarans, at the very least, still had their native soil, their old folk legends, and the legendary lineage of the Draco to serve as a rallying banner for the lost.
Gaul, on the other hand, had nothing left. Its surviving people were scattered across the grand cities of Victoria, Ursus, and Leithanien, clinging to bitter memories of a fallen golden age while watching their ancestral identity get torn to shreds by history.
Jeanne twitched the corner of her mouth into a self-deprecating smile. The Gaul of this world had suffered an even harsher fate than the France of her original life—though the pain felt remarkably familiar.
Back then, France had been driven to the absolute brink of total collapse, yet during the great struggle she had taken part in, her countrymen had managed to win it all back—even if Jeanne herself hadn't lived to see that final day of peace.
Tragically, the Gaul of Terra had never found a figure to lead its people out of the dark. Perhaps such a savior simply hadn't appeared yet, though none of that had anything to do with Jeanne anyway.
At most, she might offer a quiet sigh for a fallen land. But as for raising a banner to lead the surviving Gaullish people in reclaiming their lost kingdom, as she had once done under divine revelation to save France...
She wiped the thought from her mind instantly. Gaul had been destroyed decades ago; calling on scattered survivors to wage a hopeless war of restoration was a ridiculous notion, and Jeanne knew better than anyone how absurd that would be. It also wouldn't be appropriate for her do so as both a leader of Reunion and the Saintess of Laterano, she has no intention of dragging her friends and people into such a mess.
"Hey, what's going on in that head of yours?" Talulah nudged Jeanne with her elbow, eyeing her with a look of sharp curiosity.
Talulah had picked up on a strange pattern: Jeanne always paid an unusual amount of attention whenever Gaul was mentioned, despite having never shown a deep interest in its history before.
Why the sudden fascination? Had Jeanne finally uncovered her true origins, discovering she was secretly some exiled Gaullish princess who was destined to raise a banner and liberate her fallen kingdom?
Talulah instantly erased the absurd thought from her mind. She had been reading too many of those martial arts novels sent by Ch'en lately; it was warping her reality.
Then again... why did my sister send me those novels in the first place? Talulah wondered. Was she trying to share a piece of her life in Lungmen with me?
Meanwhile, far away in Lungmen, Senior Guard Ch'en looked at the shipping logs for her long-overdue novel order, realizing she had accidentally set the delivery address to Talulah's home in Chernobog. She nearly wished she could dig a hole and bury herself on the spot.
"It's just... personal curiosity," Jeanne offered by way of explanation, though her tone sounded overly defensive to Talulah's ears. "I've always been intrigued by Gaullish history, that's all!"
"You're not secretly a Gaullish survivor, are you?" Talulah pressed, her eyes narrowing as she studied Jeanne's expression. "Though your age doesn't add up at all. You certainly don't look like someone with memories of the old empire. Strange..."
Jeanne offered her a look of utter exasperation. In a strange, twisted way, Talulah wasn't entirely wrong—her original homeland shared a deep name connection with this fallen nation, even if that name was where the similarity ended.
"You're overthinking things," Jeanne sighed, shaking her head. "I don't even know how your brain made that leap. A Gaullish survivor? When Gaul fell, it's a question whether I was even walking this earth yet."
Their quiet bickering didn't draw any notice from the surrounding escort. The old Duke continued guiding them through the massive warship, holding nothing back except for the classified engine rooms and primary command hubs.
Stepping through the corridors, the two women got an up-close look at Victoria's state-of-the-art war tech. The sheer scale and advanced armament of the vessel were a genuine eye-opener, standing leagues above the outdated mobile ships they had encountered during their time in the wilderness.
Of course, that was largely because they were comparing it to older civilian models. Ursus's top-tier military flagships were equally terrifying in combat potential, though neither Jeanne nor Talulah had ever been granted a tour of those classified vessels.
Once the tour concluded, the Duke invited them to a spacious upper deck where a refined tea set had been arranged atop a polished table.
Do Victorians do nothing but drink tea all day? Jeanne mused internally.
"I would have preferred to throw a proper banquet with fine wine to welcome you both," Wellington said, gesturing for them to take a seat. "However, military regulations strictly forbid alcohol aboard a active warship. We shall have to make do with tea instead."
At this point, all the guards and adjutants had withdrawn, leaving only the old Duke, Jeanne, and Talulah on the open deck. Had the two women harbored any dark intent, they could have subdued the defenseless noble in less than a minute.
Whether the Duke possessed absolute confidence in his own combat prowess or simply trusted that his guests wouldn't resort to violence, Jeanne couldn't tell. Having no intention of causing trouble, she sat down alongside Talulah to address the real reason for their meeting.
"There is one matter I wish to clarify directly," Wellington said, his expression turning grave as he looked at the two young women across the table. "Regarding the Taran people... I want to know what your true intentions are."