Sassel grabbed Jeanne's arm and tugged her back into her chair.
"You're technically my superior right now. Could you not make such a scene on someone else's turf?"
"Actually, I am," she said, glaring at the black sorcerer.
This woman's lost her mind, Sassel thought.
"Miss... Inquisitor," Plain said thoughtfully, "I mean no offense regarding your relationship with Mr. Sassel, nor do I intend to question why you're traveling with a black sorcerer. But—if I'm not mistaken, you seem rather dissatisfied with the nobility?"
Jeanne paused, turning her gaze on Plain before answering:
"No dissatisfaction. I just don't care. Nobility? So what? As long as they don't drag me down during wartime by squabbling out of cowardice, I couldn't care less. The Church and the secular states are usually separate. I don't hold much prejudice against nobles—at least they're educated enough to be useful in some areas, though more often they're a hindrance."
"Wait, when did we start just saying everything out loud?" Sassel interrupted.
"Probably around the time Miss Jeanne said she led the French forces to defeat the Celts?" chimed in Saya—the Black Goat's offspring, though still casually referring to herself by the name "Saya" from her previous conversation with Astolfo. "Since Miss Eve is gone, I don't really need to keep up the act." She smiled—a smile that didn't quite suit a little girl. "My master used to love collecting historical accounts from around the world. Would you mind telling him more about that period?"
Jeanne looked at the Black Goat's spawn and her eyelid twitched. She clearly wasn't coping well with this creature.
"Nothing remarkable," she muttered, averting her gaze. "Just a war over contested borders. Since Miss Eve has left, I'll be a bit more direct: at the time, the Church's military forces officially declared neutrality—but everyone knew the truth. We wanted to watch France and Britain bleed each other dry. Maybe we even planned to bait them into conflict, though I don't know for sure—maybe we just didn't act fast enough—because Britain launched a direct war on my homeland first."
"And how did the Church allow an inquisitor like you to intervene in the war?" Plain asked.
"Oh come on, are you stupid?" Jeanne snapped. "If we saw Britain was winning, we'd find an excuse to support France. If France was winning, we'd help Britain. I didn't think much about it at first, but eventually I realized—I was the Church's excuse. So I started openly abusing my power and ignoring secular laws. When I led provincial forces into battle, forget minor nobles and bishops—even higher-ups wouldn't dare meddle. And if they did? I had the right to execute them on the spot. Sending them to the ecclesiastical court was just a courtesy—because I still respected the Church."
"What if your homeland was about to conquer Britain?" Plain asked, seemingly unfazed by her tone.
"Oh, then I'd be happy. The complete extermination of those Celts would've been ideal."
Jeanne smiled—a twisted smile. Sassel thought her expressions were always twisted. She continued after a pause,
"Worst case scenario, the Church steps in with another excuse and helps the Brits push back. No big deal either way."
"You're... remarkably candid."
"Heh. Just telling the truth. I'd say the same to that woman flailing around with a rusty sword she probably dug up from some grave—what was she, the Black Knight King? What a joke. My church knights have already died in three full rotations. It's a pity I couldn't make her Round Table knights do the same. You know, I paved the entire road from Brest to Warsaw with the bones of those Celtic savages. I almost had Gawain's head as a gift for her—almost! Damn it! Those bastards nearly trampled the village next to my hometown, and I never got to see her miserable face!"
"Why not just say you failed? Why all the ranting? Think a longer speech makes you more convincing?" Sassel taunted.
"…"
Jeanne fell silent. Then stomped her foot down on his tail with full force. Sassel's face instantly turned pale.
She continued calmly, "Anyway, in the end it was all wrapped up by the usual negotiations. The Church had just cured Charles VI's madness, and the royal court was busy executing his uncles and purging their supporters, so it fell to me and Duke Anassas de Cruz to sign the treaty on behalf of France and end the war."
"Can you tell me the details of the treaty?" Plain asked, curious.
"Nothing special," Jeanne shrugged. "If anything, the duke was extremely displeased with that so-called Knight King, but he didn't want to openly insult her—so he privately gave me the go-ahead to say whatever I wanted."
"So the treaty meeting turned into a marketplace catfight between you two?" Sassel asked, still recovering from the pain and plotting his revenge.
"Could you use a better metaphor?"
Jeanne's brows showed the distinct tension of her signature irritation. But perhaps she agreed that Sassel's analogy wasn't entirely wrong, because she didn't hurl further insults. Instead, she resumed in a serious tone:
"My proposal was: hand over her three key knights—Gawain, Mordred, and Lancelot—and drag them out to be hanged. Or, if she preferred, line them up and shoot them with those trendy secular firearms."
Sassel nearly spat out his water.
"And what was the duke's reaction?"
"He seemed quite pleased, honestly. He told me to keep calm, but he didn't actually stop me," Jeanne said, locking eyes with Sassel. "I even tried to bargain—told her I'd settle for just executing Gawain. I think I was being very reasonable. But she still refused, so I had to let it go."
"And what kind of expression did the Knight King make?"
"Hard to say," Jeanne replied. "Her poker face looked like a bleached corpse. I even filed a formal report accusing her of being a reanimated female corpse and ordered the clergy to cast undead-banishing spells at her face. Didn't work. One of her knights—Mordred, I think—challenged me to a duel, said I had insulted her father."
Jeanne sneered. "Damn right I insulted her! What of it!?"
"Miss Inquisitor is quite... free-spirited," Plain coughed awkwardly. He had probably meant to say unhinged.
"But that's all in the past now," Jeanne continued. "The treaty was signed two or three years ago."
She paused again, then added:
"Now I've been reassigned. I mostly operate in the continent of Bernacis these days—and, most unfortunately, I've been shackled to this black sorcerer. Since you lot have been quietly holed up in this dream-labyrinth of a city without causing much trouble, I won't bother with a purification ritual. Let's leave it at that."