As the sun sank toward the horizon, painting the sky in deep bruised tones, Jeanne and Talulah had still not caught up with Rhodes Island. Amiya stood near the deck railing, staring out at the darkening expanse with a slight tug of anxiety in her chest.
"Still worrying about Jeanne and Talulah?" Kal'tsit asked, pausing her work as she noticed Amiya's distant expression.
"Yes..." Amiya admitted honestly, nodding with a faint sigh. "I know how strong they both are, but stepping foot aboard one of Victoria's primary flagship battleships isn't something sheer martial skill can solve if things turn sour. I just keep thinking they would have been safer meeting on neutral ground."
A flagship like the Gastrell was a fortress on steel treads, loaded with heavy artillery and elite troops. Even with Jeanne's capabilities, stepping directly into the lion's den carried inherent danger.
"There is no need to fret," Kal'tsit replied calmly, shaking her head before dipping her pen back into the ink. "Under these specific circumstances, their safety is practically guaranteed."
"Why are you so certain, Doctor Kal'tsit?" Amiya asked, turning around and handing her a freshly poured cup of tea. Knowing how rarely Kal'tsit misread political maneuvers, her worry began to ease, replaced by pure curiosity.
Kal'tsit offered a subtle, exasperated glance, as if quietly questioning why such a straight-forward puzzle still stumped her pupil.
Amiya caught the look and rubbed the back of her head sheepishly, her long ears drooping in a playful show of guilt like a child caught slipping up.
"It comes down to understanding the Duke himself," Kal'tsit explained, softening her tone slightly. "Wellington is not the sort of commander who would resort to bloodletting aboard his own warship—especially not on a vessel he considers the crown jewel of his military honor. Whatever reason he had for summoning them, it undoubtedly revolves around the Taran people. His ties to that cause run far too deep to ignore."
As they spoke, a dark spot broke through the evening clouds, growing larger by the second.
Amiya squinted into the distance, her long ears instantly perking up. Only one type creature in the vicinity carried a frame massive enough to be spotted from miles away.
Seeing the shadow glide lower, both Kal'tsit and Amiya shared a quiet nod of relief.
"It seems they're back in one piece," Kal'tsit said, setting her pen aside and standing up. "Since you've been waiting on pins and needles, we might as well head out to receive them."
Amiya gave an eager nod, hurrying alongside Kal'tsit toward the landing deck.
Fifteen minutes later, the massive form of the wyvern descended gently through the wind, landing with a heavy thud on the steel deck. The surrounding operators, long accustomed to the sight, gave way as Jeanne and Talulah vaulted down from its back.
"Jeanne! Miss Talulah! Welcome back!" Amiya called out, hurrying over with a bright smile. "It looks like everything went smoothly? No trouble along the way?"
"It went well enough," Jeanne replied, giving the wyvern's massive scaled flank an affectionate pat. "Though this poor girl lost a tiny piece of her scale to those foolish researchers and their heavy saws."
If one looked extremely close, a single missing scale—no larger than a thumbnail—left a minor gap in her dark hide.
Kal'tsit glanced at the spot without a flicker of concern. She understood the creature's physiology; a lost scale was barely a scratch and would fully regenerate during the next shedding cycle.
Amiya, however, looked over with worried eyes before catching the mischievous glint in Jeanne's eyes. Realizing she was being teased, she puffed out her cheeks in frustration.
"Please stop teasing me like that! I'm not a child anymore, Jeanne!"
"Now that you've returned safely, I take it the Duke's invite wasn't a trap?" Kal'tsit asked, steering the conversation back to business.
"Far from it," Talulah said, her expression surprisingly bright. "The Duke signed off on a massive commercial contract with us. Chernogobor's industrial sector is about to receive an incredible influx of work."
Kal'tsit understood what that implied. Chernogobor possessed an extensive industrial framework built by Ursus, capable of mass-producing heavy goods if given sufficient labor and raw materials. An official procurement order from a high duke of Victoria would keep almost every dormant facility running for a long time to come.
"He placed a vast array of orders without pressing us to undercut our prices," Jeanne added, looking back at the distant silhouette of the Gastrell. "His primary condition was simply that we ensure proper treatment for the displaced Tarans. Whatever else he may be, he still carries the weight of his people in his heart, and he is willing to spend resources where it counts."
He might not be the selfless martyr he claimed to be, nor was he merely a greedy tyrant using the Taran identity to fuel his own ambitions. In areas where he held power, the Duke of Iron was still willing to make concessions if it served the long-term survival of his kin.
"Then this is a win for both sides," Kal'tsit remarked smoothly. "For Reunion, it brings vital industrial capital; for the Duke, it secures a safe haven for displaced Tarans, lifting a heavy strategic burden off his shoulders."