Jeanne observed the artifact Kal'tsit had called a Royal Court Covenant with intense curiosity, letting a quiet wonder wash over her face as she realized how remarkably small and unassuming the legendary item actually was.
She vividly recalled Theresa mentioning it in the past—an ancient pact forged long ago between a former Lord of Fiends and the ten most formidable Sarkaz clans, collectively known as the Ten Royal Courts of Kazdel.
Its original purpose was to put an end to endless internal bloodshed and ensure that Kazdel would never tear itself apart through the sheer devastation of civil war among the leading factions. Looking at it now, it was a fascinating piece of history.
"This is not merely a treaty; it also carries the weight and political backing of a Royal Court," Kal'tsit explained, handing the manifestation of the Lord of Fiends' Arts over to Jeanne so she could examine the antique up close.
Judging by the current climate, a significant faction within Kazdel was still refusing to submit to Theresa's leadership. They had apparently gone so far as to invoke the authority of the Royal Courts to force her hand, which explained why Kal'tsit had traveled all this way just to secure such a seemingly symbolic relic.
The Wendigo Royal Court had been detached from Kazdel's mainstream politics for centuries, after all. Had the situation not reached a critical juncture, Rhodes Island would never have needed to borrow this favor from Patriot.
"I'm just surprised, Old Mister. Didn't you vow long ago never to involve yourself in Kazdel's affairs ever again? Is bringing this thing back into play really the right move for you?"
Noticing Jeanne's fascinated inspection, Kal'tsit allowed her to hold the fragile piece of ancient history.
The artifact was crafted from an unidentifiable material, humming with a lingering, dormant trace of Originium Arts far beyond Jeanne's comprehension. That unfamiliarity only added to its mystique.
Though she couldn't accurately date the relic, Kal'tsit's testimony suggested it was at least a millennium old, making Jeanne handle it with the extreme care of someone terrified of accidentally turning a priceless national treasure into dust.
"Though I resolved to turn my back on Kazdel long ago, if a mere token from my past can help steer that nation toward a better future, I see no reason to withhold my strength," Patriot replied, his deep voice carrying the weight of hard-won acceptance.
It was hard to imagine such a stubborn, unyielding veteran suddenly adopting this perspective in his advanced age. Approaching two centuries of life, the fact that he was still willing to adapt his worldview and break a lifelong oath was nothing short of monumental.
FrostNova watched her adoptive father with a mixture of shock and reverence, her earlier anxiety melting away as she realized the old warrior was truly capable of breaking his own molds to shape a different path.
"Your willingness to make this choice right now is certainly unexpected," Jeanne remarked, carefully passing the Royal Court Covenant back to Kal'tsit before turning her full attention back to Patriot.
"Change is never easy, but in the past, the circumstances simply weren't there. Kazdel never enjoyed periods of genuine peace," Patriot reminisced, staring softly at the ancient covenant as Kal'tsit stowed it away. He had carried that token on his person for nearly two hundred years, never once imagining it would ever see the light of day again.
"You all go on and talk. I have matters to attend to back at base," Kal'tsit stated, noting that her primary objective had been successfully accomplished. Without lingering further, she offered a polite nod and departed.
"Truthfully, the real reason I decided to change my mind comes down to what you've accomplished here, Jeanne. Before this, I never would have believed that the Sarkaz and other nations could ever truly join hands."
Once Kal'tsit had left, Patriot finally voiced his inner thoughts to Jeanne. His shift in stance was fundamentally rooted in the astonishing reality Jeanne had helped build in Chernobog.
Prior to witnessing this city, Patriot had never envisioned a future where his people could coexist, let alone cooperate, with foreign powers on equal footing.
That exact foresight was what had driven him to lead his followers out of Kazdel generations ago; he had foreseen the inevitable cycle of internal warfare reigniting, and he had dismissed Theresa's vision as an impossibly naive dream, however beautiful it might have been.
"Yet, against all odds, you actually turned that dream into a tangible reality. Even if this cooperation is currently forged under the shadow of shared disasters, it is still the first step forward," Patriot said, his tone laden with profound relief. While these developments far exceeded his original expectations, he was more than willing to bear witness to them.
"We just did what needed to be done on the fly. When we heard you were acting strange these past few days, we honestly thought your health was taking a turn for the worse," Jeanne admitted with a sheepish grin, earning an immediate softening of the tense lines around FrostNova's face.
Seeing their genuine concern, a faint, rare hint of amusement flickered in the visible portion of Patriot's eyes.
"It seems my recent brooding caused unnecessary worry. I apologize for the trouble."
"What was Kal'tsit actually trying to accomplish by taking that token from you?" FrostNova asked after a brief pause, voicing the question that had been burning in her mind.
"Regarding the regent who was captured... within Kazdel, a massive faction is demanding that the Lord of Fiends release the man who initiated the civil war. Among them are several remaining Royal Court representatives," Patriot explained, his tone darkening.
The sheer absurdity of the demand was staggering. Expecting the ruler to pardon an enemy who had tried to usurp and execute her was an absolute fantasy.
At the same time, the fact that Theresis commanded such vocal backing from certain Royal Courts came as no surprise. For him to amass that level of power without institutional backing from the traditional factions would have been far more absurd.
"Regardless of their reasoning, isn't that completely unhinged? What on earth are those people thinking, demanding something like that out loud?" Jeanne asked, a flicker of disbelief crossing her features.
She still struggled to comprehend the twisted logic of those specific Sarkaz factions. Did they genuinely believe Theresa wouldn't hold them accountable for backing an open rebellion?
"Perhaps a large portion of Kazdel still resents Theresa's choice of peace. They either yearn for the regent to lead them back into conquest, or they wish for him to fall so they can inherit his bloodstained banner and continue the endless war," Patriot growled, his massive hand clenching around his metal cup with such sudden, crushing force that the thick alloy crumpled into an unusable lump of scrap iron.
It was a grim piece of intelligence Kal'tsit had largely kept shielded from Jeanne—the harsh truth that a vast segment of the Sarkaz population didn't actually desire peace at all. On the contrary, they were addicted to conflict.
Millennia of nomadic survival had forged a society deeply entrenched in war; generations of mercenary life had stripped away any conception of quiet domesticity. Countless Sarkaz still violently rejected Theresa's peaceful ideal, preferring to march under Theresis's banner even if it led straight to total annihilation on a desolate battlefield.
"And now, though the Ten Royal Courts have been whittled down to a mere shadow of their former selves, those factions attempted to leverage a formal Council vote to dictate Theresis's fate. Kal'tsit intends to use this Covenant to anchor Theresa's authority and finalize his judgment."
Patriot laid out the volatile political landscape. The traditional powers were currently split: the Blood Demons pushed for leniency, the Banshees vehemently opposed it, the Cyclops are nowhere to be seen, the Nachzehrers offered conditional compliance while retaining their duties, and the Damazti hovered in diplomatic ambiguity. The delicate equilibrium hinged entirely on the weight of the Wendigo's historic authority.
With Patriot now throwing his historic weight behind Theresa's faction, the balance tipped decisively. Jeanne finally understood the immense gravity of the decision the old veteran had wrestled with all morning.
"It sounds like the Sarkaz Royal Courts are nothing more than an anchor dragging down progress. Doesn't the Lord of Fiends ever want to sweep those stubborn institutions away for good?" FrostNova asked, shaking her head at the sheer exhaustion of regional politics.
"She certainly holds that desire, but the timing is far from right," Jeanne murmured thoughtfully, recalling the deep-seated disdain the Banshee leaders held for the traditional courts. "Kazdel simply isn't stable enough yet to survive dismantling its foundational power structures entirely."