As the high council commenced upon the sacred mountain, the Doctor—who had finally arrived in Kjerag—stood inside the train station, looking out at the snow-covered expanse with a quiet sigh.
Though their carriage had been modified for comfort, the distinct, rhythmic jarring of an older train was impossible to smooth out completely, especially over the rougher legs of the journey.
This had proven quite a trial for the Doctor's delicate physical constitution. After all that jostling, her aching lower back felt utterly drained, crying out for immediate rest.
"That's just what happens when you shirk your physical training," Jeanne remarked as she hopped down from the carriage, full of energy. She gave the Doctor's weary back a few light, encouraging pats. "If you spent just one hour a day training alongside the operators, how could you be struggling this much? Though, I suppose I shouldn't rule out motion sickness either."
Jeanne truly wondered where the Doctor found the nerve to tease Kal'tsit given her fragile frame. Was she genuinely unconcerned that one day Kal'tsit might lose her temper and pin her right to the floor?
"If I had a spare hour for exercise, I'd rather spend it getting a little extra sleep," the Doctor shot back without a second thought. "My daily workload never ends. Forcing workout routines into that schedule is asking far too much."
When she wasn't buried under paperwork or sleeping, the Doctor spent her remaining hours offering a listening ear to the female operators, helping them navigate their personal worries. Where on earth was she supposed to find time for physical conditioning?
"Refuse all you want, but I'm bringing this up with Amiya and Kal'tsit the moment we return," Jeanne replied, entirely unsympathetic. "We don't need you building muscles like Blaze's, but at the very least, you shouldn't collapse in exhaustion whenever someone has to carry you out of danger."
Jeanne spoke from firsthand experience. Every time she carried Talulah at a full sprint, she had to stop afterward and watch her friend lean against a wall in sheer nausea, clutching her sore waist—a habit that severely hindered their mobility.
Rustle—rustle—
A gentle breeze stirred between them, rustling the branches of nearby trees as if to welcome an unseen presence.
As the cool air brushed past, the Doctor suddenly felt a soothing warmth wash over her—a sensation so comforting it felt as though she were sinking into a hot bath from head to toe, instantly lifting her spirits.
"This breeze... feels strange," Jeanne muttered, her brow furrowing slightly as she scanned their surroundings. The air circling them didn't feel like a natural gust; it bore the unmistakable trace of Arts.
That meant someone was secretly observing them, entirely slipping past her divine guidance. The realization sent a subtle chill down her spine.
"No need for alarm... I have only come to catch a glimpse of our visiting guests."
Before Jeanne could raise her guard, a voice echoed softly beside their ears. The sudden sound caught the Doctor off guard, making her flinch.
"Who are you?" the Doctor demanded, looking around. "What do you want with us, and where are you watching from?"
She began scanning the bustling crowd. Typically, casting an Arts spell of this nature required a degree of focus, meaning the caster would look distracted—a detail that could expose anyone trying to play tricks.
In theory, it was a sound strategy. In practice, picking out a distracted face among a dense crowd of travelers was an agonizingly difficult task for any human mind.
"She isn't here," Jeanne said after a moment of fruitless searching, having picked up a faint thread of intuition.
"Indeed," the gentle, warm voice replied. "I harbor no ill intentions. Hearing that two 'distinguished guests' had arrived, I simply wished to see you with my own eyes. However, it is time for me to take my leave."
Jeanne felt the unseen gaze slowly fade, sweeping back into the wind toward its source.
"Yet mark my words... the embers of unrest upon the snowy peak have been kindled. Please, take care not to fall into danger during the coming storm. I look forward to the day... when we might meet face-to-face."
With that final warning, the voice dissolved into the murmur of the crowd. The Doctor stood baffled, wondering if the stranger had truly reached out just to chat.
"Hmm? What's wrong, Doctor?" Blaze asked, walking up with their heavy luggage in hand. Seeing the Doctor's bewildered look, she quickly stepped closer. "Are you feeling unwell? Should we find a place for you to rest?"
"It's nothing," the Doctor replied, her eyes drifting toward the distant sacred mountain as a meaningful smile touched her lips. "I just have a feeling the rest of this trip is going to be... quite interesting."
If the mountain peak was facing unrest, then her earlier suspicions were spot on. As for the identity of that soft voice, the Doctor found herself genuinely curious to exchange a few real words with her if the opportunity arose.
"Interesting? Sounds fun to me!" Blaze chuckled, catching sight of a nearby street vendor. "I've never been to Kjerag before. I wonder how that dried meat they sell tastes? I'm going to grab a bite."
"That stuff is as hard as firewood," the Doctor warned. "I nearly chipped a tooth trying it last time, so you might want to—actually, never mind."
Recalling how Blaze had casually crushed and swallowed a piece of hard jerky Ensia offered her earlier, the Doctor decided to save her breath.
Under the astonished gazes of the local vendors, Blaze bit right through the rock-hard meat with a satisfying crunch, thoughtfully evaluating it. "Not bad at all! The flavor isn't overwhelming either. It'd make great emergency rations."
"Let's keep moving before she draws a whole crowd!" the Doctor urged, leading the group out of the cramped station area.
Ensia led the group onto the main thoroughfare—the liveliest strip in Kjerag, packed with local specialty shops and roaming merchants.
Walking through such a market carried its own risks, however, as silver-tongued traders could easily talk unsuspecting travelers into buying armfuls of useless trinkets.
"I'll show you around the area before we head back to the estate," Ensia offered, gazing up at the distant sacred peak with a touch of anxiety. "I just hope my brother isn't stuck in that meeting for too long. The longest Tri-Clan Council session on record lasted half a month."
Up on the sacred mountain, that same council session was currently deadlocked.
"If we want to avoid sitting here for another two weeks, then let's cut the useless chatter, Silverash!"
It was Arctosz who broke the silence, his voice booming across the hall. As the most short-tempered of the three clan leaders, he frequently used brute force to shatter political impasses.
Normally, a straightforward brute would be easy to handle; a clever strategist could manipulate such a short-fused leader with minimal effort.
"And what would you have me say?" Enciodes countered, his voice smooth and entirely unyielding. "I have explained the situation repeatedly. The mining was an unauthorized act by a subordinate. Are we now establishing a precedent where a clan master answers for every rogue action of his underlings?"
Rather than backing down under pressure, Enciodes pushed back with even greater force.
Punishing a clan master for a subordinate's error was a dangerous concept that neither house could accept. The covert feuds between the three families were almost entirely carried out through intermediaries; if those actions were tied directly to the clan heads, they might as well surrender all power to the Vine-Bear Court and retire.
A heavy silence settled over the chamber. None of them wanted to set such a risky precedent, yet letting the Silverash family off scot-free was equally out of the question.
"While primary blame rests with your subordinate," the High Elder spoke, his gaze sweeping across the three leaders, "violating the sacred mountain and stealing tears-stone still falls under your family's failure of oversight. Enciodes, what do you have to say to that?"
The elderly Feline's raspy voice echoed through the room as he delivered his verdict.
As for the Saintess, Enya had been escorted to an adjacent room to rest; sacred matters did not require her to be burdened by worldly disputes.
"You look rather pleased," Enya noted, returning to her quarters and noticing a subtle change in her maid's expression. "Did something happen?"