The nights in Kjerag were always desolate, but under the current circumstances, they felt downright freezing.
Parents forbade their children from stepping out, keeping them firmly indoors. Any child foolish enough to disobey was treated to an extra meal—a loving, iron-fisted scolding from their panicked elders.
For a time, the muffled cries of scolded children echoed through the already oppressive atmosphere of the mountain nation, almost as if the youth were mourning the devastating news that had just gripped the country.
The master of House Silverash had been attacked on a train during his return journey. As of now, no one knew whether the young clan leader was dead or alive, plunging the populace into a state of sheer panic.
Adding fuel to the fire was a wild rumor spreading from an unknown source. It claimed that during the recent Tri-Clan Council meeting, the Paleroches and Browntail families had joined forces with the Vine-Bear Court to strip Enciodes of all his power. A second later, he was met with a "tragic accident."
It painted a grim picture—a conspiracy everyone suspected but didn't dare voice out loud, even though there was zero concrete proof.
The rumor spread like wildfire through the streets. The other ruling clans were fully aware of the whispers but found their hands tied. They knew they couldn't ruthlessly suppress the gossip; doing so would only make them look far guiltier. It was a complete deadlock. The only way to clear their names was to find the missing master of House Silverash.
"I didn't expect us to run into something like this on our very first day here. What do you think—is this just a tragic coincidence, or the climax of a long-gestating scheme?"
Compared to the frantic locals outside, Jeanne, the Doctor, and the rest of their group seemed completely at ease inside their room. Whatever political upheaval was happening, it definitely had nothing to do with them. They were simply tourists caught in the rain.
"Yeah, the clan master runs into a life-threatening crisis the very moment we arrive. No matter how you look at it, this feels exactly like the plot of a trendy detective novel. Why did it have to happen to us?"
The Doctor's tone carried a distinct hint of amusement. She didn't seem terribly worried about her business partner's safety. Instead, she was comfortably gnawing on some dried meat Blaze had bought for the trip.
"This stuff is tough," she critiqued, chewing loudly.
"This really isn't the time to be chewing on jerky, Doctor! Shouldn't we contact Kal'tsit? The situation here might require a formal meeting on the landship to decide our next move."
The normally boisterous Blaze looked like a completely different person. Her cello case—which housed her massive chainsaw—rested right by her hand. She hadn't even touched the beer she brought along. Both of her Feline ears stood straight up, swiveling sharply as she tracked every sound in their surroundings.
She was maintaining maximum vigilance, thoroughly double-checking the safety of the room. In times of political upheaval, outsiders like them were often the easiest targets, especially given their incredibly sensitive identities.
"Relax, relax! If we follow standard manga structure, we have no motive and no time to commit the crime. We're just the bystanders passively dragged into the mystery. Have you ever read a detective manga where the main cast gets wiped out before the finale?"
The Doctor didn't share Blaze's anxiety in the slightest. Not only because no one in Kjerag had a logical reason to target them, but primarily because she held a trump card—one capable of solving quite literally any problem by force if necessary.
Said trump card was currently sitting peacefully by the window, admiring the snowy scenery and using the frost on the sill to build tiny snowmen just to pass the time.
"So stop being so overly paranoid. If you keep this up, your own sanity will crack long before anyone actually attacks us. Here, have a drink."
The Doctor tossed a can of beer to Blaze, then casually cracked one open for herself.
"You really aren't taking this seriously at all, huh?" Blaze caught the can, then blinked in sudden surprise. "Wait, your helmet actually comes off?! I thought that thing was welded to your skull!"
Blaze was genuinely shocked to see the Doctor remove her entire headgear. Before this, she had only ever seen the Doctor lift the lower half just enough to eat. This was her first time seeing the Doctor's true face.
Beneath the heavy visor was a somewhat petite face, small enough that it didn't even fill three-quarters of the helmet's interior. It made the Doctor look remarkably youthful, and surprisingly... incredibly cute.
Compared to the last time Jeanne had seen her, the Doctor's cheeks were much rosier. The sickly, bloodless pallor of her past was gone, replaced by a healthy, radiant complexion.
"Whoa, you're way too cute! Doctor, without your helmet, you're even cuter than Rosmontis! Hiding a pretty face like this under a chunky mask is a criminal waste!"
Upon seeing the Doctor's adorable face, Blaze lunged forward, wrapping her in a tight hug and rubbing her cheek against hers like a giant, affectionate cat—even though this "cat" was significantly larger than her target.
"Let go, let go! I can't breathe!" the Doctor struggled in utter agony. The pair of wicked, soft mountains on Blaze's chest threatened to completely smother her, bringing the Doctor immense suffering.
It wasn't that she couldn't physically handle the impact. It was just that facing such an overwhelming figure caused massive mental damage to someone like her, who possessed a far more... androgynous, flat build.
Do you have any idea how much psychic damage a hug like this inflicts on someone like me?! The miniature version of the Doctor in her mind was weeping rivers of tears, and her physical body was about to follow suit.
A quick glance around the room brought the Doctor to a devastating realization: she was the flattest person here! For someone who was already self-conscious about her figure, this was enough to inflict twenty years of psychological trauma.
"Hehe, you're just way too cute, Doctor! I bet if you were willing to show your face to the public, we could market you as Rhodes Island's official mascot and sell merchandise!"
After a few minutes of the Doctor squirming, Blaze finally let go, scratching her head with a sheepish grin. Still, the overwhelming urge to continue petting her was plainly visible in the Feline's eyes.
"Impossible! Completely out of the question! I am the dignified Doctor of Rhodes Island! How could I sell out my own image for mere money? It will never happen!"
Do you have some sort of prejudice against selling merchandise? Jeanne, as someone who had sold many merchandises based on her own likeness, cast a sideways glance from her spot by the window. The look sent a chill down the Doctor's spine, making her feel as though Kal'tsit were standing right behind her holding a scalpel.
The Doctor whipped her head around in a panic, but upon seeing no suspicious glares, she tilted her head and scratched her cheek in genuine confusion.
She didn't realize that this slightly clueless, dazed expression only made her look even cuter. Blaze barely managed to hold back a nosebleed, her gaze growing increasingly dangerous.
"I think it's best if I keep my distance from you today. If this keeps up, I might not be able to protect my own dignity, let alone the streets outside." The Doctor scrambled hastily away from the energetic Feline, taking refuge behind her allies.
"Aw, why? What's wrong with getting a bit closer?" Blaze completely ignored the Doctor's resistance, reaching out with her wicked paws once more.
Unable to endure it any longer, the Doctor ducked and hid firmly behind Jeanne and Alina. She never expected Blaze to act like this; clearly, she had let her guard down too much in the relaxed atmosphere.
"Just drink your beer! Stop dragging the conversation into some weird abyss!" The Doctor tossed another can at Blaze. Because of the Feline's constant interruptions, she had almost forgotten to discuss the actual crisis at hand.
She scratched her head and mentally reviewed the day's events. The dramatic incident playing out before them just felt... wrong.
Ever since they stepped foot in this country, an undercurrent of wrongness had lingered in the air. From Courier and Matterhorn departing early, right down to this sudden assassination attempt, it was hard not to connect the dots.
"When I was outside earlier, I did hear some interesting chatter. The locals are starting to spread rumors that the railroad is destroying Kjerag's future, and that Kjeragandr is furious," Jeanne noted, bringing up the rather ridiculous gossip she had caught with her sharp hearing.
"Since two generations of Silverash clan masters have met their end on a train, people are growing terrified of the railway. I heard them discussing whether they should just blow the whole thing up," Jeanne recalled, referencing the hushed conversations she had overheard on her way downstairs.
It was hard to tell if those words were intentionally spoken for her to hear, or if the city had simply devolved into genuine paranoia.
"Regardless of the truth, the one suffering the most right now is probably Ensia," the Doctor sighed softly, her playful demeanor finally fading. "I just hope she can stay strong. At the very least, she needs to endure this storm."
Whether Enciodes was dead or alive, Ensia was caught directly in the eye of the hurricane, and the pain she felt must be suffocating.
(Fumina: Apologies for my recent inconsistent updating schedule. It's just that it's that time of the year again, End of Semester Final Exams. I'll still update when I have time, of course. It should go back to normal after Oct 3.)