By afternoon, the group finally reached the village. The Patrol couldn't help but marvel at the elite stamina of these men; while their own legs had turned to jelly from the trek, the mysterious arrivals weren't even winded.
"My lords, we have arrived. The village you spoke of is just ahead," the Captain said deferentially, sweat drenching the skin beneath his mask. He could tell these were not men to be trifled with.
"Very well. You may leave."
Hearing that cold voice, the Captain suddenly felt a strange warmth coursing through his body. He hadn't expected these people to be so reasonable.
But in the next heartbeat, he froze. The other black-clad figures vanished as if they had teleported; a second later, the soldiers behind him collapsed, their heads severed from their shoulders.
"What are you doing?!" he roared. Though they were scum who should have died on the tundra long ago, they didn't see themselves that way. They believed they were loyal soldiers of the Ursus Empire, faithful subjects gathering resources. As for the civilians? They viewed their suffering as a necessary sacrifice for the state.
But now, they were being hunted. While he knew his superiors wouldn't offend a noble for his sake, the reality of the betrayal was impossible to accept.
"This is for the future of Ursus. Please, rest here," a voice whispered.
With that, the Captain's head hit the snow. Blood stained the earth, only to be quickly buried by fresh snowfall, as if nothing had ever happened. It was a familiar scene; no one could count how many corpses lay buried beneath the Ursus tundra.
The group moved toward the village. They followed the orders of Grand Duke Kashchey, sent to "cleanse" an obstacle hindering the development of Ursus.
The leader pulled out a portrait of a young girl with golden hair and violet eyes. This was the target Kashchey had identified through their mental link. Their orders were to turn the village into a sea of fire, but to spare a Draco and an Elafia—they still had uses. If possible, they were to kill the girl right before their eyes.
Though the mission was strange, they were the sharpest teeth of the Grand Duke—the "Fangs" of the Deathless Black Snake. Their mission was to sweep away any obstacle on the path to Lord Kashchey's grand ambition.
Upon entering the village, the inhabitants caught sight of the black uniforms and paled, scurrying into their homes. The Fangs ignored them; they were here for a massacre, not tax collection.
Suddenly, a man dressed in rags, reeking of alcohol, stumbled forward with a fawning smile. "M-my lords! Do you need a guide? There isn't a thing in this village I don't know! Just... just please exempt me from my taxes, and I'll tell you everything!"
The leader looked at him and held up the portrait. "This person. Do you know where she is?"
The drunkard's eyes lit up. "My lord, I know her! That's the girl old Ivan adopted! She wandered into our village a few years back. Their house is the one with the patches on the roof, at the eastern edge!"
The Fangs didn't say a word, turning instantly toward the location. Behind them, the drunkard shouted excitedly, "My lords! Don't forget my taxes! I'm Anthony! Remember to exempt me!"
He turned back toward his home, delighted, thinking only of the vodka he would drink to celebrate. He felt no guilt for selling out Jeanne. He had realized these weren't Patrols; a rat like him could spot a noble's private militia a mile away.
Why? Heh. Their gloves and boots were lined with gold thread and bore a noble crest. Subtle, but his sharp eyes caught it. Those "black bugs" of the Patrol didn't have that kind of money. If they did, they'd have bribed their way out of this wasteland long ago.
As for Jeanne... she was as good as dead anyway. Might as well get something out of it. He still had the meat Ivan had traded him yesterday and two bottles of fine vodka. Tonight, "Smart Anthony" would celebrate saving another batch of grain.
Meanwhile, Jeanne felt a sudden surge of danger. "Talulah, take Grandpa and the others and leave now. Warn the villagers—forget your belongings, just get away from the village as fast as you can!"
"What's happened, Jeanne? The 'black bugs' wouldn't go this far, would they?"
Seeing Talulah hesitate, Alina interrupted. She and Talulah hoisted the two elderly residents onto their backs to begin the evacuation.
"Don't do anything reckless, Jeanne!" Alina cried. "Promise me you'll come back alive! Even if the house and money are gone, you must protect yourself!"
They wanted Jeanne to run with them, but she refused. She knew they were coming for her. If she disappeared with them, the village would be hunted down.
Watching the four silhouettes fade into the distance, Jeanne turned back to the approaching enemies. Their killing intent was impossible to hide. But it didn't rattle her. She was a woman who had lived through war in her dreams. Now, those memories had become her strength. How could she lose her composure now?
The ten Fangs soon spotted Jeanne in her village attire. They saw Talulah and the others fleeing in the distance and prepared to split up to pursue.
Suddenly, a blinding light erupted. The "village girl" was gone; in her place stood a woman clad in silver plate armor, draped in a purple surcoat and cape, wielding a massive battle standard.
"This is no amateur... she's a veteran!"
While most would first praise the beauty of the blonde girl, these killers felt only a chill of unease. This woman was dangerous. Any carelessness would mean their deaths. They abandoned the plan to split up, focusing all their lethality on Jeanne.
Jeanne gripped her flagpole tightly, her other hand drawing the Sword of St. Catherine. Though it was a Noble Phantasm meant for a final, suicidal strike, it served perfectly well as a blade in her hand.
Elsewhere, Talulah's draconic stamina had allowed her to carry Grandpa a significant distance. Alina followed, running with everything she had. They had raised the alarm, but only some villagers fled; others preferred to hide in their homes, refusing to leave.
"Alina, look after Grandpa and Grandma."
Talulah felt a strange surge of energy coming from the village. She couldn't leave her friend behind. It wasn't in her nature to run while a friend fought. She might not be good at sewing, but when it came to a fight, she had confidence.
"Go, child," the grandmother said, leaning on Alina. "Alina can handle us. Just make sure you and Jeanne come back in one piece!"