act46side

You can tell Her Grace that the power hiding behind Kjerag has disappeared.

I've observed and recorded the fall of some extraterrestrial object to the surface. The ensuing Catastrophe is further proof of my conclusion.

Whether it's the energy field theory or the Feranmut hypothesis, it explains the changes that happened to Kjerag.

Take this folder, all my research into several hypotheses about Kjerag is in it. You can—

What the—?!

I am terribly sorry, Madam.

Did you really believe you could hide your personal communications with the Maylander Foundation from us?

Her Grace has asked us to bring back only the data.

I believe she is very interested in the fact that Kjerag has lost its protection.

You—

Extraterrestrial objects, Feranmut legends...

There are still so many marvelous things we don't know the truth about across this great land.

But all you care about is deception, robbery and murder. Everything else is worthless to you.

If I didn't need you to escape from Kjerag...

I would never work with people like you!

I shall pass on your complaint to Her Grace, verbatim.

Goodbye, Madam. Thank you for your patriotic 'service'.

She sighs deeply, unsure of whom she is actually feeling sorry for.

A smoke grenade?

Enemy attack! Look for cover!

The night is enveloped in smoke and gunfire, leaving the snowfield in utter chaos.

At least, until a black off-roader courses out of the smoke. In its wake are the Victorian agents, futilely shooting at the vehicle as it drives into the distance.

Sorry to put you through that, Carolin.

Had to take our time so the Victorians wouldn't spot us.

Got all your stuff?

She lowers her head, pulling out a marked file on the extraterrestrial object from the various documents before handing it to the agent sitting in the front seat.

...So, when can I start my research?

No need to be so hasty, Miss. My boss wants to have a chat with you first. He's really interested in hearing what you're studying.

I think you'll be working with us for a long, long time.

Carolin nods her head, before she suddenly realizes something.

She never had the chance to actually hand over Victoria's 'Kjerag report'.

She rolls down the car window, heedless of the cold wind blowing in. She takes out the papers she so painstakingly wrote in Kjerag, one after the other, and throws them out the window with nary a moment's hesitation.

The paper is all the more white under the black night, like fresh snow falling upon the wilds.

They spin through the air, buoyed by cold wind and political maelstrom both.

Here's your things back, Victoria.