Though everyone had already seen through Sciurus's attempt to act like a cold, aloof noblewoman earlier, nobody expected her front to shatter quite so completely.
They had assumed she would manage to keep up the facade for a few days at least. Who could have guessed that less than an hour into the carriage ride, this bundle of raw curiosity would crowd right up to Jeanne, peppering her with question after question?
For a moment, Jeanne didn't even know how to react. Was this Zalak girl just naturally overenthusiastic? Or did the people of Kjerag carry some sort of innate obsession with Saintesses?
Convinced she had stumbled onto some bizarre cultural truth, Jeanne scratched her head and glanced at the squirrel-like woman sitting across from her, who was still desperately trying to cling to her last scrap of dignity.
"You seem exceptionally interested in the concept of a Saintess, Sciurus," Alina noted with a warm, gentle smile.
The rest of the group shared that same quiet amusement. Why did Sciurus act like a completely different person the moment she spoke to Jeanne? Had the Saintess's natural charm grown so powerful that it crossed national borders?
"When it's just us, you can drop the 'Miss,'" Sciurus said, waving a hand airily. "Earlier was just for show—I had to keep up appearances in front of the Silverash retainers."
She recalled her older sister's strict instructions before they left: Be a little more welcoming when you meet our visitors. Surely her current behavior qualified as welcoming, right?
"As for being curious about a Saintess—of course I am! I've never met another one before," Sciurus admitted, her ears twitching. "I heard that nations beyond our mountains don't really worship the gods, so I always assumed a Saintess was something unique to Kjerag."
In a sense, her logic wasn't entirely flawed. Before Jeanne's sudden emergence, Kjerag was indeed the only nation boasting a figure with that exact title. Laterano itself had never formally chosen a Saintess in its modern history.
"My situation is rather unique, so I'm not a great point of reference," Jeanne explained gently, dashing the girl's grand romantic notions. "I didn't undergo any grueling trials or traditional selections—I was chosen directly from above."
Sciurus's eyes blinked in stunned disappointment. In her mind, she had already spun a dramatic tale of Jeanne braving endless trials and overcoming ancient ordeals to earn her sacred title.
To hear that she had simply been handpicked felt almost ridiculously casual! There were no epic struggles or legendary tests involved—it was completely different from how things worked in Kjerag.
"Then... are there any strict requirements to become a Saintess in your homeland?"
Jeanne stared back at her, momentarily paralyzed by her train of thought. Wait, what does that mean? Are you actually planning to go abroad and run for the position yourself?
"Well... it's quite difficult," Jeanne offered diplomatically, trying not to crush the girl's spirit too hard. "At the very least, you need to be able to commune directly with the divine. That might prove a bit of a hurdle for you."
"Whoa... your standards over there are terrifyingly high!" Sciurus shivered, her tail fluffing up slightly.
To commune directly with the gods? In Kjerag, that meant possessing a direct line to Kjeragandr herself! Forget about ordinary people like her—hardly anyone in history could claim such a thing. A figure capable of sensing Kjeragandr directly wouldn't just be a Saintess; they would possess the authority to unite the entire country!
"Then why do your superiors allow you to travel so freely?" Sciurus asked, her tone laced with genuine confusion. "Once someone becomes a Saintess, isn't the primary duty to stay in one place, granting audiences to pilgrims and maintaining sacred rites?"
As she spoke, Sciurus couldn't help but feel a fresh wave of pity for Kjerag's own Saintess, Enya. To be confined to a single mountaintop temple, forbidden from stepping out into the wider world... what had she herself been thinking when she dreamed of becoming a Saintess as a child?
She felt a sudden wave of gratitude toward her stern older sister. When Sciurus had been coaxed by the rest of the family into chasing that dream, her sister hadn't sent her off to take the religious trials—she had simply hung her up by her ankles and beaten some sense into her.
"Why wouldn't I be allowed out?" Jeanne replied, completely unbothered by the idea of dumping administrative duties on others. "Our doctrines don't mandate that I remain locked in one location for years on end. Besides, the duties you're describing sound far more like the Pope's responsibility than mine."
The offhanded way Jeanne pawned off all the heavy paperwork onto Pope Yvangelista only made Sciurus more fascinated.
"Well now, it seems you ladies have been getting along splendidly," a warm voice called out.
When the carriages finally rattled to a halt, Yucatan stepped over to welcome them, only to find the group chatting like old friends. The sudden shift left him slightly dazed. Since when had his wife become such a master of diplomatic charm?
During the drive over, he had been fretting in the lead carriage, worried that Sciurus's sharp tongue or headstrong nature might offend their distinguished guests—a concern Lady Ratatos had specifically warned him about.
Yet seeing Sciurus now—leaning forward with starry eyes as she eagerly asked about the world beyond Kjerag's borders—Yucatan could only offer a weary smile, feeling a quiet sense of relief.
"What's with that look? Why are you staring at me so strangely?" Sciurus asked suspiciously, catching his expression the moment she stepped out of the carriage.
Her instincts flared. That gentle, exasperated look was far too similar to the way her older sister looked at her right before delivering a harsh scolding.
"It's nothing," Yucatan replied hastily, his eyes darting away before her suspicions could solidify. "I'm just glad to see you making friends so easily."
"Hmph! I'll have you know that Doctor is amazingly knowledgeable!" Sciurus boasted, puffing out her chest. "She knows so much about the outside world! She told me people out there don't even need firewood to keep warm in winter—they have specialized heating devices built right into their buildings..."
As Sciurus excitedly shared everything she had just learned, Jeanne and the others surveyed their new lodgings. Standing before them was a fairly standard, neatly built... wooden inn?
The Doctor stared at the structure, her mind failing to process the sight. Shouldn't the standard diplomatic protocol involve confining them inside a grand noble manor, where they would wait for the master of the house to make a dramatic appearance?
If it was just a regular inn, they could have walked in and checked themselves in! Was all that grand convoy, diplomatic bluster, and horse-drawn carriage ride really necessary just to bring them to a hotel? It felt like unnecessary theater!
"While our family has been tasked with your reception, it is merely because our position makes it convenient to step forward," a smooth, composed voice called out. A Zalak woman stepped down the wooden steps to greet them, a polite, practiced smile gracing her lips. "We felt it might be inappropriate to bring you directly to a private estate without proper preparation. I hope these accommodations prove comfortable during your stay."
Through their conversation with Sciurus, Jeanne's group already knew that this building was currently the only formal inn in all of Kjerag. It had been constructed by Ensia's brother, built to match the standards of luxury hotels found in the outside world.
Though its size and decor fell short of the grand establishments in major nomadic cities, it was easily the finest lodging Kjerag had to offer.
"Although it may be slightly improper for me to extend greetings in place of the building's original owner, allow me to introduce myself," the woman said, performing a flawless, elegant bow. "I am Ratatos Browntail, the current master of House Browntail—and this foolish girl's older sister."
Jeanne and her companions returned the courtesy, inquiring politely about the recent unrest surrounding Ensia's family.
The spark of mountain unrest approaches, bringing with it a dangerous tide of upheaval...
Recalling the cryptic warnings delivered by that strange, ethereal voice earlier, the Doctor immediately stepped forward to engage the clan master, hoping to extract actionable intelligence from the source.
Sciurus had answered all their questions openly enough during the ride, but her knowledge of high-level politics was clearly limited. It was far better to consult someone who actually ran the country.
"House Silverash?" Ratatos remarked, her bushy tail swaying gently as she listened to the Doctor's inquiry. "They are currently consumed with reorganizing their internal affairs. They have no leisure to concern themselves with the outside world at the moment."
She paused, as if weighing how much to reveal to outsiders, before adding, "It might be difficult for visitors to fully grasp, but Enciodes's recent actions crossed a line we cannot tolerate. In the eyes of the council, what he attempted is utterly unforgivable."
Whether she genuinely struggled to translate local political nuances into terms outsiders would understand, or simply wished to guard state secrets, Ratatos kept her explanation frustratingly vague.
Right at that moment, a servant rushed over in an absolute panic, whispering a few frantic words into her ear.
A split second later, the composed smile vanished from Ratatos's face, replaced by pure, unadulterated shock.
The Doctor immediately whipped her head around to look at Jeanne. She knew that with Jeanne's razor-sharp senses, she had undoubtedly overheard every single word spoken.
Jeanne had indeed heard the message clear as day—and the news was utterly astounding.
Enciodes Silverash, the master of House Silverash and Ensia's elder brother, had just been targeted in a heavy explosion while traveling by train. The track had been mined with explosives beforehand!