Fate/Ethereal Order
- Thread starter Squirtodyle
- Start date
Chapter Twenty Eight: Rose Garden
- Location
- Ireland
- Pronouns
- He/Him
It's not much of a choice when you get right down to it. Goemon's already vanished, and even if he was around it feels like any conversation would be awkward at best and it'd make you want to stab him at worst. Avenger's as bad in her own way, and she's positioned herself just a little bit further away from you all, as if to drive home that she's not a part of your group. In comparison, Circe's proven herself to be intelligent and capable, she's materialized to benefit from the sunlight, and any conversation you do have with her is bound to have some kind of actual benefit beyond maybe learning a tiny bit more about a Servant that seems intent on keeping as much distance from you as possible.
Of course, despite your rationalizations there's a little part of you that's whispering something you can't exactly deny. At the end of the day, there's one reason you chose her above the others, and it's got nothing to do with your mission.
You like talking with Circe.
Sure, she's a flirt, and sure, it throws you off your game sometimes, but she's charming nevertheless. Talking with her brightens your day a bit, and better yet she's able to knuckle down and be serious when you need it. You don't actually think there's a single time you've come out of a conversation with her worse than you started, and she hasn't displayed either uncomfortable devotion or flagrant distaste like your other Servants. You like talking with Circe, and the knowledge grates at you with every breath you take. You know it's not good to get close to people, let alone the kind of temporary existence that is a Servant, know that if you let yourself it'll just be more painful when the parting comes, know that you should keep them all at arm's length.
But circumstances demand change, and the circumstances you're in are wilder than you could ever have dreamed of. And when you've got all of human history riding on your shoulders, even you can't deny that maybe it's okay to let yourself relax when it comes to other people, just a bit. If you're miserable and stressed and distracted when shit hits the fan, you'll be no good to anyone.
You just barely manage to take a breath and turn to the witch before she's smiling that playful smile at you, cutting you off before you can speak.
"You're staring, piglet." Shit.
"...Sorry. Just thinking."
"I didn't say it was a problem, did I?" Your marching doesn't slow down, nor does anyone interrupt, but Circe's at least keeping things to a quiet murmur regardless. Even though you're just walking through the greenery of French fields outside the towns, and even though you know the place is plagued with monsters that one of the Ars Goetia is controlling, it still feels like it'd be wrong to break the mild tranquility of the place. After your time in Chaldea, Fuyuki, and that awful forest, it's a breath of fresh air to be somewhere nice for a change.
"I guess not." Small talk is a little more difficult than you remember, especially when you're the one initiating it. "What do you make of her?"
"Jeanne? Oh, she's alright I suppose. A bit much, but alright. Didn't strike me as some kind of terrible witch, so we've got the real one at least."
"That's it?" You're a little caught off guard. Given how easy it was for the maiden to strike you dumb from her sheer presence, you'd half expected that to be the case for the others too.
"That's it. Did you forget that I've met gods? She's a holy warrior from some land I've never been to long after the Age of the Gods ended, ho hum. Do we have to talk about other women?" She bats her eyelashes at you and you can't help but snort in amusement, and from the way she smiles after that you half expect that she might have been after that more than anything else.
"Makes sense. Alright, fair. What about the bears?"
"Familiars, probably Phantasmal Beasts. I don't really recall running into anything like them before."
"They're from Goldilocks, I think." She tilts her head in confusion, which seems like the obvious reaction in hindsight. Important information typically doesn't include specific fairy tales. "Uh, it's a kid's story. A girl breaks into a house and sees three bowls of porridge, one's too hot, one's too cold, one's just right...ends with her getting chased out when the bears who own the place come back."
"...Right. An odd choice for familiars, then." She looks bemused at the explanation, and for a few moments there's an awkwardness that hangs between you. You're not sure what to say, and she's not pushing the conversation forward like usual. Almost immediately the thought that that was the only reason you got along well creeps into your mind, and it takes effort to try force it back, push down the voice that's whispering poison into your ears before any of it can take hold. You're almost too distracted by it to notice that Circe's turned to you again, head tilted slightly.
"You don't have to force yourself, you know. I'm not going to waste away if you don't pay attention to me constantly."
"N-No, I..." That's not the takeaway you want her to get from this, not at all. Maybe it'd be easier to let it off like that but it just feels...wrong, somehow, letting her believe that you're doing this for her sake, instead of your own. "I'm not trying to- I just...I wanted to talk, but I'm not sure what about. I'm not great at this." You feel like an idiot with every word that leaves your mouth, but when you glance back at her Circe's giving you a sweet smile before floating to your side to nudge your arm slightly.
"Was that really so hard? Honestly, piglet, you're a little bit hopeless."
"What?"
"It's a conversation, it doesn't have to be some big ceremony. I enjoy your company, and it's fine if you enjoy mine too. It's that simple."
It isn't, but you don't have time to explain it to her, especially not now that you've admitted you just wanted to talk. It's a balancing act, a careful play at finding the kind of comfortable distance you can still enjoy a conversation at. You'll tell her the whole story at some point, maybe even soon, but right then and there you decided to let it go. You can pretend it's that simple for an hour or so.
You strike up another conversation with her, a meandering, pointless talk about the fields you're in, how much nicer they are than the last two places you found yourself, how it can't compare to Circe's island paradise, and you lose yourself in the rhythm of it. You've achieved nothing, learned nothing, and discussed nothing important whatsoever, but when you finally lull into a comfortable silence you feel a little warmer inside.
It's an hour, maybe two before anything changes. To her credit, Niamh doesn't seem at all tired, and as much as you'd like to think up a spiteful comment about her faerie blood giving her an unfair advantage, you're not quite enough of a hypocrite to do it while being a Demi-Servant yourself. Avenger hasn't said a word, keeping pace with you all without a hint of trouble or concern or anything besides an infuriatingly passive smile, and really, it's all going so uncomfortably smoothly that you're almost relieved when Jeanne suddenly stops and bites back a curse.
"What's wrong?" Your shield is in your hands already, your guard up as you glance around. It's possible she's sensed something you haven't, you don't know what she's capable of and it's not like your instincts are infallible.
"Our camp was found and attacked. It was Melusine, the water spirit. You haven't met her yet?" You shake your head, struggling to remember what you know about the figure. You see Niamh's eyes spark with recognition when you glance to the side, so you give up the train of thought, resolving to just ask later as unpleasant as it'll be. "She's tough, and they weren't prepared. My Servants managed to escape, but we need a new location quickly or they'll just be found again."
Even with the veritable crisis that she's facing, apart from her Servants and unable to help them, she doesn't miss a beat. Calm, collected, strong. It's inspiring in its own way, something between natural and supernatural. She's a leader, tried and true, and even just her presence is enough to make you feel like she'll find a solution.
"If I may?" Avenger's voice is a shock to hear after so long, but Jeanne doesn't react at all besides nodding her permission towards the woman as she curtsies politely. "In regards to the matter of an encampment, there may well be some assistance I can offer forth."
"Go on, Avenger, but be quick. The others are waiting for my call."
"Of course. I am quite sorry for having not spoken of this prior, but I hope that you will forgive my secrecy, as there was little need to speak of it until this unfortunate news reached my ears." If Avenger's silence annoyed you, her flowery speech is making a good case for why it's better that she stays quiet. "Truthfully, I myself have a small camp between Châteaudun and Orléans, one as yet undiscovered by the forces assailing us. If you would permit me to do so, I would be well glad to guide all of you to it."
You stare at her in mute disbelief, suspicion rising in your gut. She just happens to have a solution to your problems right there, just as it becomes necessary? You don't, you can't trust that. You're already taking a breath to protest before Jeanne speaks, and the words die on your lips before you can say them.
"That works. I'll guide my Servants as we move, we haven't made that much ground north. How long do you think it'll take?"
"Our safety should be assured by nightfall, Maiden."
"Good. Keep moving, everyone." Her tone brooks no argument, and neither does the way she simply sweeps past you and starts to march south-east. Even when she doesn't know the way, she's taking charge just as a function of being, and you can't even bring yourself to speak your dissent. All you can do is let your shield disappear as you march with a growing frown, at least until Avenger lays a delicate hand on your shoulder from behind.
"I must once again apologize, Sir Edward. I would hope you believe at least there was no intent of deception on my part. I did not regard my encampment as relevant to your quest, and indeed felt that the knowledge would prove naught but distraction." She's not smiling, at least. She certainly doesn't look ashamed or particularly sorry, but there's a hint of something on her beautiful face, you'd call it embarrassment if you were feeling charitable. Given how implacable she's been thus far, it's either a more honest reaction than you're used to, or a ploy to make you think that that's the case.
"...It's fine. Lead the way." You don't tell her that you don't trust her, but you don't have to. The two of you lock eyes and it's just a single moment of a held gaze, but you can tell. She knows you don't trust her, and just before she pulls away to start guiding Jeanne, you see a hint of a smile on her face.
Whatever happens, you're confronting her tonight. It's not a question of "if" anymore, you're going to figure out what's going on with her, if only because you'll be too on edge to get any rest while stuck in her sanctuary otherwise.
<"...Shall I shoot her, Master?"> Archer's innocent-sounding suggestion makes you snort under your breath, and you shake your head.
<"No, it's fine. But...thanks, Archer.">
<"Of course, Master.">
The sun is setting before you make it to the forest that Avenger's camp is hidden within, and by the time you plunge into the depths of it the only guide you have is the shimmering moonlight that filters through the boughs and branches above. Being in another forest after your last experience is making you a little more tense than usual, but you don't notice any strange paranoia, or more importantly, any wolves made out of darkness or creepy young girls calling them up. Avenger moves with an effortless grace through the forest despite the darkness, but she's never too far away that you can't see her scarlet dress and armor, or the dull gold trimmings. A part of you had been worried that the bears were going to make a return, but you haven't sensed a single thing since you entered the woods, and if they had been stalking you while you were out in the open, it had been far enough away that you didn't notice. Circe had vanished into her spiritual form as the sun started to set, and with the weariness of a day's marching after being dropped in a nightmare forest finally starting to settle in to even your super-powered bones, you appreciated the relief from having to sustain her physical body, especially since Fou started getting tired and hitched a ride on your shoulder.
Beside you, the unicorn that Niamh is riding whinnies softly. Even her faerie blood wasn't going to be able to keep her going all day at a Servant's pace, but it still makes an unpleasant feeling bubble up inside, watching her sit sidesaddle and stroke its neck as it carries her forward. Play-acting the princess even now, as if Avenger would pay her more notice if she looked the part, no doubt. Some part of you can recognise that you're just letting your grudge colour things, but honestly after the day you've had you're willing to let it go a bit. If nothing else, hating your sister is a familiar kind of catharsis.
You've been walking long enough that it's an ache to stop, the monotonous footsteps carrying an inertia of their own that makes you wince when you finally get a chance to rest. Avenger's stopped at a patch that doesn't seem like the rest, thick branches cutting off even the meagre moonlight that lit your path a few minutes ago. You're not quite certain what you're looking for, but despite the darkness Avenger strides forward confidently, before holding her hand in front of her, fingers splayed. There's a sound, a creaking, groaning sound, and even when the gloom obscuring them, you finally notice what it is she was looking for.
A wall of thorns and vines and roses stretches up from the ground and out from the trees before you, thick and sturdy and viciously sharp. Slowly, like roots somehow growing in reverse, they start to unwind and part, the scent of heady sap and plant-flesh filling the air around you as the barbed vines tear at each other with their movement. As the brambles part further and further, you notice lights flickering between them, and as the opening finally widens enough for a person to fit through, you blink in shock as a young man dashes out and beams at you all, lantern in hand.
He's short for his age, a little smaller than Niamh, and he's wearing clothes battered and dirty enough that they're almost more rags than they are recognizable as garments, but the short sleeves of his makeshift shirt show off the wiry muscles in his arms, and he's got a scar over his lip that you'd bet money came from a fistfight. If you had to guess, you'd say he's just on the cusp of twenty, and despite the circumstances his voice is upbeat and cheerful.
"Rose, you're back! Ah, and you've brought others, are they...oh, they look strange. Are they like you, princess?"
"They are indeed akin to myself, Charles. Please let the others know that I will have guests for the night. I would like to introduce them to you all myself, but I am expecting yet further visitors, and I must keep watch for them." You can see her smile in the dim light from the lantern, and it's different somehow, a little less amused, a little more earnest.
"Oh, of course! I'll let them know, they've been worried about you for the last few days! And, ah...I'm so glad you're okay, princess!" The man can't help but flush a bit as he moves back inside the thicket, and you stare dumbly after him as Avenger gestures for you to follow. A whisper of dissipating mana signals that Niamh's alighted behind you, and she moves past you to follow after Jeanne as she passes through, before turning and giving you a bright smile.
"I told you she was good. She's a princess!" Oh, the effort it takes not to yell.
"Come on, let's get inside." Niamh's smile doesn't falter at all, and with a mildly nervous glance aside to the brambles thicker than most castle walls, you follow her into Avenger's camp, Fou leaping down from your shoulder and scampering off out of sight almost immediately.
It's a clearing a hundred meters or so across, the tangled undergrowth and dirty forest floor replaced with soft, verdant grass dotted with colourful flowers that fill the air with the sweet scent of spring. Makeshift tents are scattered about here and there, and a few dozen people mill about in and out of them, illuminated by lanterns, candles, and a large campfire off to the side. They're all much like the young man who welcomed you in, wearing dirty, torn clothes and sporting bruises and scars here and there. You don't know where they're from, but whatever life they lead can't have been an easy one. Despite that, hey seem in good cheer, their voices strong and light as they congregate together in the glade.
Jeanne looks around at them and for the first time since she banished the bears, her eyes soften a little. She turns to Avenger and bows her head, speaking in a grateful tone.
"Thank you, Avenger. These people, they're..."
"Some of those who lived closest to the forest when it began to grow." Avenger's voice is uncharacteristically dour, her soft whispers murmured almost like mourning. "The others were on the verge of killing each other. I simply saved those who could still be saved."
"Thank you. Is there anything that I can do to help them, anything at all?" You'd admired her before for how cool-headed she'd seemed, but it's clear that's just one aspect of things. It's natural, you suppose. The Maid of Orléans was a spiritual woman and a fearless leader both.
"Perhaps...they would enjoy being led in their prayers by Jeanne d'Arc, if it pleases you. They have lost much."
"Of course." Jeanne turns to you, an apologetic look on her face. "I had planned on explaining things when we made camp, but that was before all this. We need to wait for my Servants anyway, so...get some rest, please. We can talk tomorrow."
"Right. I'll do that." It's not like you really have any grounds to argue. You watch as Jeanne makes her way over to the largest group of people and starts to speak, hands clasped and a small smile on her face. It's incredible, the way that just being around her makes the refugees seem even more lively, the cheers that go up when they realise who they're speaking to, the happy recitations that she guides them through. For all the years you spent studying and learning about Servants, you'd never really considered just what kind of effect they could have besides for the battles they fight.
A quiet yawn from Niamh interrupts your thoughts, and you glance over towards her as she stretches her arms over her head.
"Mmmh...there's no leyline here. We'll have to move on tomorrow...I'm going to get some sleep. Today was exhausting." She idly taps at her notebook a few times, a handful of brownies manifesting with a sharp green glow and scurrying ahead of her, starting to sketch out a circle for whatever magecraft Niamh has in mind. "Avenger's taking good care of us, so...relax a bit, alright? Please?"
"We'll figure out what we're doing tomorrow. Goodnight." Niamh takes the curt dismissal with only a small frown this time, her kicked-puppy expression bouncing off you like you're made of stone. You wait until your sister starts to help her creations with what you're fairly certain is building a bed before you turn back to Avenger, face set in a scowl to match the pleasant, vague smile she's returned to.
"I should take it you believe something amiss, Sir Edward?"
Damned right.
[ ] Tell her to cut the bullshit already. Since the moment you met she's been playing up how suspicious she is, helping just enough to keep you on edge while staying distant enough that you can't help but pay heed to to the paranoia. You want to know what her stake in helping you is.
[ ] Ask her why the hell she's gathering refugees in her own little corner of paradise here. You're no fool, you know exactly what happens to the poor, to the weak, to the vulnerable when they get involved in the Moonlit World.
[ ] Tell her you that she's not getting under your skin despite her best efforts. Make sure she knows that whatever she has planned, whatever show she thinks she's putting on, you couldn't care less. The moment she tries to stop you from fixing this Singularity, you'll beat her and do it anyway.
Of course, despite your rationalizations there's a little part of you that's whispering something you can't exactly deny. At the end of the day, there's one reason you chose her above the others, and it's got nothing to do with your mission.
You like talking with Circe.
Sure, she's a flirt, and sure, it throws you off your game sometimes, but she's charming nevertheless. Talking with her brightens your day a bit, and better yet she's able to knuckle down and be serious when you need it. You don't actually think there's a single time you've come out of a conversation with her worse than you started, and she hasn't displayed either uncomfortable devotion or flagrant distaste like your other Servants. You like talking with Circe, and the knowledge grates at you with every breath you take. You know it's not good to get close to people, let alone the kind of temporary existence that is a Servant, know that if you let yourself it'll just be more painful when the parting comes, know that you should keep them all at arm's length.
But circumstances demand change, and the circumstances you're in are wilder than you could ever have dreamed of. And when you've got all of human history riding on your shoulders, even you can't deny that maybe it's okay to let yourself relax when it comes to other people, just a bit. If you're miserable and stressed and distracted when shit hits the fan, you'll be no good to anyone.
You just barely manage to take a breath and turn to the witch before she's smiling that playful smile at you, cutting you off before you can speak.
"You're staring, piglet." Shit.
"...Sorry. Just thinking."
"I didn't say it was a problem, did I?" Your marching doesn't slow down, nor does anyone interrupt, but Circe's at least keeping things to a quiet murmur regardless. Even though you're just walking through the greenery of French fields outside the towns, and even though you know the place is plagued with monsters that one of the Ars Goetia is controlling, it still feels like it'd be wrong to break the mild tranquility of the place. After your time in Chaldea, Fuyuki, and that awful forest, it's a breath of fresh air to be somewhere nice for a change.
"I guess not." Small talk is a little more difficult than you remember, especially when you're the one initiating it. "What do you make of her?"
"Jeanne? Oh, she's alright I suppose. A bit much, but alright. Didn't strike me as some kind of terrible witch, so we've got the real one at least."
"That's it?" You're a little caught off guard. Given how easy it was for the maiden to strike you dumb from her sheer presence, you'd half expected that to be the case for the others too.
"That's it. Did you forget that I've met gods? She's a holy warrior from some land I've never been to long after the Age of the Gods ended, ho hum. Do we have to talk about other women?" She bats her eyelashes at you and you can't help but snort in amusement, and from the way she smiles after that you half expect that she might have been after that more than anything else.
"Makes sense. Alright, fair. What about the bears?"
"Familiars, probably Phantasmal Beasts. I don't really recall running into anything like them before."
"They're from Goldilocks, I think." She tilts her head in confusion, which seems like the obvious reaction in hindsight. Important information typically doesn't include specific fairy tales. "Uh, it's a kid's story. A girl breaks into a house and sees three bowls of porridge, one's too hot, one's too cold, one's just right...ends with her getting chased out when the bears who own the place come back."
"...Right. An odd choice for familiars, then." She looks bemused at the explanation, and for a few moments there's an awkwardness that hangs between you. You're not sure what to say, and she's not pushing the conversation forward like usual. Almost immediately the thought that that was the only reason you got along well creeps into your mind, and it takes effort to try force it back, push down the voice that's whispering poison into your ears before any of it can take hold. You're almost too distracted by it to notice that Circe's turned to you again, head tilted slightly.
"You don't have to force yourself, you know. I'm not going to waste away if you don't pay attention to me constantly."
"N-No, I..." That's not the takeaway you want her to get from this, not at all. Maybe it'd be easier to let it off like that but it just feels...wrong, somehow, letting her believe that you're doing this for her sake, instead of your own. "I'm not trying to- I just...I wanted to talk, but I'm not sure what about. I'm not great at this." You feel like an idiot with every word that leaves your mouth, but when you glance back at her Circe's giving you a sweet smile before floating to your side to nudge your arm slightly.
"Was that really so hard? Honestly, piglet, you're a little bit hopeless."
"What?"
"It's a conversation, it doesn't have to be some big ceremony. I enjoy your company, and it's fine if you enjoy mine too. It's that simple."
It isn't, but you don't have time to explain it to her, especially not now that you've admitted you just wanted to talk. It's a balancing act, a careful play at finding the kind of comfortable distance you can still enjoy a conversation at. You'll tell her the whole story at some point, maybe even soon, but right then and there you decided to let it go. You can pretend it's that simple for an hour or so.
You strike up another conversation with her, a meandering, pointless talk about the fields you're in, how much nicer they are than the last two places you found yourself, how it can't compare to Circe's island paradise, and you lose yourself in the rhythm of it. You've achieved nothing, learned nothing, and discussed nothing important whatsoever, but when you finally lull into a comfortable silence you feel a little warmer inside.
Circe's bond level has increased.
It's an hour, maybe two before anything changes. To her credit, Niamh doesn't seem at all tired, and as much as you'd like to think up a spiteful comment about her faerie blood giving her an unfair advantage, you're not quite enough of a hypocrite to do it while being a Demi-Servant yourself. Avenger hasn't said a word, keeping pace with you all without a hint of trouble or concern or anything besides an infuriatingly passive smile, and really, it's all going so uncomfortably smoothly that you're almost relieved when Jeanne suddenly stops and bites back a curse.
"What's wrong?" Your shield is in your hands already, your guard up as you glance around. It's possible she's sensed something you haven't, you don't know what she's capable of and it's not like your instincts are infallible.
"Our camp was found and attacked. It was Melusine, the water spirit. You haven't met her yet?" You shake your head, struggling to remember what you know about the figure. You see Niamh's eyes spark with recognition when you glance to the side, so you give up the train of thought, resolving to just ask later as unpleasant as it'll be. "She's tough, and they weren't prepared. My Servants managed to escape, but we need a new location quickly or they'll just be found again."
Even with the veritable crisis that she's facing, apart from her Servants and unable to help them, she doesn't miss a beat. Calm, collected, strong. It's inspiring in its own way, something between natural and supernatural. She's a leader, tried and true, and even just her presence is enough to make you feel like she'll find a solution.
"If I may?" Avenger's voice is a shock to hear after so long, but Jeanne doesn't react at all besides nodding her permission towards the woman as she curtsies politely. "In regards to the matter of an encampment, there may well be some assistance I can offer forth."
"Go on, Avenger, but be quick. The others are waiting for my call."
"Of course. I am quite sorry for having not spoken of this prior, but I hope that you will forgive my secrecy, as there was little need to speak of it until this unfortunate news reached my ears." If Avenger's silence annoyed you, her flowery speech is making a good case for why it's better that she stays quiet. "Truthfully, I myself have a small camp between Châteaudun and Orléans, one as yet undiscovered by the forces assailing us. If you would permit me to do so, I would be well glad to guide all of you to it."
You stare at her in mute disbelief, suspicion rising in your gut. She just happens to have a solution to your problems right there, just as it becomes necessary? You don't, you can't trust that. You're already taking a breath to protest before Jeanne speaks, and the words die on your lips before you can say them.
"That works. I'll guide my Servants as we move, we haven't made that much ground north. How long do you think it'll take?"
"Our safety should be assured by nightfall, Maiden."
"Good. Keep moving, everyone." Her tone brooks no argument, and neither does the way she simply sweeps past you and starts to march south-east. Even when she doesn't know the way, she's taking charge just as a function of being, and you can't even bring yourself to speak your dissent. All you can do is let your shield disappear as you march with a growing frown, at least until Avenger lays a delicate hand on your shoulder from behind.
"I must once again apologize, Sir Edward. I would hope you believe at least there was no intent of deception on my part. I did not regard my encampment as relevant to your quest, and indeed felt that the knowledge would prove naught but distraction." She's not smiling, at least. She certainly doesn't look ashamed or particularly sorry, but there's a hint of something on her beautiful face, you'd call it embarrassment if you were feeling charitable. Given how implacable she's been thus far, it's either a more honest reaction than you're used to, or a ploy to make you think that that's the case.
"...It's fine. Lead the way." You don't tell her that you don't trust her, but you don't have to. The two of you lock eyes and it's just a single moment of a held gaze, but you can tell. She knows you don't trust her, and just before she pulls away to start guiding Jeanne, you see a hint of a smile on her face.
Whatever happens, you're confronting her tonight. It's not a question of "if" anymore, you're going to figure out what's going on with her, if only because you'll be too on edge to get any rest while stuck in her sanctuary otherwise.
<"...Shall I shoot her, Master?"> Archer's innocent-sounding suggestion makes you snort under your breath, and you shake your head.
<"No, it's fine. But...thanks, Archer.">
<"Of course, Master.">
---
The sun is setting before you make it to the forest that Avenger's camp is hidden within, and by the time you plunge into the depths of it the only guide you have is the shimmering moonlight that filters through the boughs and branches above. Being in another forest after your last experience is making you a little more tense than usual, but you don't notice any strange paranoia, or more importantly, any wolves made out of darkness or creepy young girls calling them up. Avenger moves with an effortless grace through the forest despite the darkness, but she's never too far away that you can't see her scarlet dress and armor, or the dull gold trimmings. A part of you had been worried that the bears were going to make a return, but you haven't sensed a single thing since you entered the woods, and if they had been stalking you while you were out in the open, it had been far enough away that you didn't notice. Circe had vanished into her spiritual form as the sun started to set, and with the weariness of a day's marching after being dropped in a nightmare forest finally starting to settle in to even your super-powered bones, you appreciated the relief from having to sustain her physical body, especially since Fou started getting tired and hitched a ride on your shoulder.
Beside you, the unicorn that Niamh is riding whinnies softly. Even her faerie blood wasn't going to be able to keep her going all day at a Servant's pace, but it still makes an unpleasant feeling bubble up inside, watching her sit sidesaddle and stroke its neck as it carries her forward. Play-acting the princess even now, as if Avenger would pay her more notice if she looked the part, no doubt. Some part of you can recognise that you're just letting your grudge colour things, but honestly after the day you've had you're willing to let it go a bit. If nothing else, hating your sister is a familiar kind of catharsis.
You've been walking long enough that it's an ache to stop, the monotonous footsteps carrying an inertia of their own that makes you wince when you finally get a chance to rest. Avenger's stopped at a patch that doesn't seem like the rest, thick branches cutting off even the meagre moonlight that lit your path a few minutes ago. You're not quite certain what you're looking for, but despite the darkness Avenger strides forward confidently, before holding her hand in front of her, fingers splayed. There's a sound, a creaking, groaning sound, and even when the gloom obscuring them, you finally notice what it is she was looking for.
A wall of thorns and vines and roses stretches up from the ground and out from the trees before you, thick and sturdy and viciously sharp. Slowly, like roots somehow growing in reverse, they start to unwind and part, the scent of heady sap and plant-flesh filling the air around you as the barbed vines tear at each other with their movement. As the brambles part further and further, you notice lights flickering between them, and as the opening finally widens enough for a person to fit through, you blink in shock as a young man dashes out and beams at you all, lantern in hand.
He's short for his age, a little smaller than Niamh, and he's wearing clothes battered and dirty enough that they're almost more rags than they are recognizable as garments, but the short sleeves of his makeshift shirt show off the wiry muscles in his arms, and he's got a scar over his lip that you'd bet money came from a fistfight. If you had to guess, you'd say he's just on the cusp of twenty, and despite the circumstances his voice is upbeat and cheerful.
"Rose, you're back! Ah, and you've brought others, are they...oh, they look strange. Are they like you, princess?"
"They are indeed akin to myself, Charles. Please let the others know that I will have guests for the night. I would like to introduce them to you all myself, but I am expecting yet further visitors, and I must keep watch for them." You can see her smile in the dim light from the lantern, and it's different somehow, a little less amused, a little more earnest.
"Oh, of course! I'll let them know, they've been worried about you for the last few days! And, ah...I'm so glad you're okay, princess!" The man can't help but flush a bit as he moves back inside the thicket, and you stare dumbly after him as Avenger gestures for you to follow. A whisper of dissipating mana signals that Niamh's alighted behind you, and she moves past you to follow after Jeanne as she passes through, before turning and giving you a bright smile.
"I told you she was good. She's a princess!" Oh, the effort it takes not to yell.
"Come on, let's get inside." Niamh's smile doesn't falter at all, and with a mildly nervous glance aside to the brambles thicker than most castle walls, you follow her into Avenger's camp, Fou leaping down from your shoulder and scampering off out of sight almost immediately.
It's a clearing a hundred meters or so across, the tangled undergrowth and dirty forest floor replaced with soft, verdant grass dotted with colourful flowers that fill the air with the sweet scent of spring. Makeshift tents are scattered about here and there, and a few dozen people mill about in and out of them, illuminated by lanterns, candles, and a large campfire off to the side. They're all much like the young man who welcomed you in, wearing dirty, torn clothes and sporting bruises and scars here and there. You don't know where they're from, but whatever life they lead can't have been an easy one. Despite that, hey seem in good cheer, their voices strong and light as they congregate together in the glade.
Jeanne looks around at them and for the first time since she banished the bears, her eyes soften a little. She turns to Avenger and bows her head, speaking in a grateful tone.
"Thank you, Avenger. These people, they're..."
"Some of those who lived closest to the forest when it began to grow." Avenger's voice is uncharacteristically dour, her soft whispers murmured almost like mourning. "The others were on the verge of killing each other. I simply saved those who could still be saved."
"Thank you. Is there anything that I can do to help them, anything at all?" You'd admired her before for how cool-headed she'd seemed, but it's clear that's just one aspect of things. It's natural, you suppose. The Maid of Orléans was a spiritual woman and a fearless leader both.
"Perhaps...they would enjoy being led in their prayers by Jeanne d'Arc, if it pleases you. They have lost much."
"Of course." Jeanne turns to you, an apologetic look on her face. "I had planned on explaining things when we made camp, but that was before all this. We need to wait for my Servants anyway, so...get some rest, please. We can talk tomorrow."
"Right. I'll do that." It's not like you really have any grounds to argue. You watch as Jeanne makes her way over to the largest group of people and starts to speak, hands clasped and a small smile on her face. It's incredible, the way that just being around her makes the refugees seem even more lively, the cheers that go up when they realise who they're speaking to, the happy recitations that she guides them through. For all the years you spent studying and learning about Servants, you'd never really considered just what kind of effect they could have besides for the battles they fight.
A quiet yawn from Niamh interrupts your thoughts, and you glance over towards her as she stretches her arms over her head.
"Mmmh...there's no leyline here. We'll have to move on tomorrow...I'm going to get some sleep. Today was exhausting." She idly taps at her notebook a few times, a handful of brownies manifesting with a sharp green glow and scurrying ahead of her, starting to sketch out a circle for whatever magecraft Niamh has in mind. "Avenger's taking good care of us, so...relax a bit, alright? Please?"
"We'll figure out what we're doing tomorrow. Goodnight." Niamh takes the curt dismissal with only a small frown this time, her kicked-puppy expression bouncing off you like you're made of stone. You wait until your sister starts to help her creations with what you're fairly certain is building a bed before you turn back to Avenger, face set in a scowl to match the pleasant, vague smile she's returned to.
"I should take it you believe something amiss, Sir Edward?"
Damned right.
[ ] Tell her to cut the bullshit already. Since the moment you met she's been playing up how suspicious she is, helping just enough to keep you on edge while staying distant enough that you can't help but pay heed to to the paranoia. You want to know what her stake in helping you is.
[ ] Ask her why the hell she's gathering refugees in her own little corner of paradise here. You're no fool, you know exactly what happens to the poor, to the weak, to the vulnerable when they get involved in the Moonlit World.
[ ] Tell her you that she's not getting under your skin despite her best efforts. Make sure she knows that whatever she has planned, whatever show she thinks she's putting on, you couldn't care less. The moment she tries to stop you from fixing this Singularity, you'll beat her and do it anyway.
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- Location
- Ireland
- Pronouns
- He/Him
So, uh, genuinely quite sorry about how long it's been without an update. Without getting into too much detail, my plan had been to get through my projects around mid December, relax a bit over Christmas, and then knuckle down into writing, but that kinda got scuppered by a covid scare, some food poisoning, some extra college essays, and then another covid scare right after that.
The good news is that with college starting back I'll have the kind of structure I need to keep focused, and so I should be able to stick to my promised chapter every two weeks this time around. Also, this marks 100k words of Ethereal Order, which is a milestone I sure as hell didn't think I'd reach, so thank you for sticking with me so far!
The good news is that with college starting back I'll have the kind of structure I need to keep focused, and so I should be able to stick to my promised chapter every two weeks this time around. Also, this marks 100k words of Ethereal Order, which is a milestone I sure as hell didn't think I'd reach, so thank you for sticking with me so far!
- Location
- Sweden
[X] Tell her to cut the bullshit already. Since the moment you met she's been playing up how suspicious she is, helping just enough to keep you on edge while staying distant enough that you can't help but pay heed to to the paranoia. You want to know what her stake in helping you is.
Spectral Waltz
Scatterbrained Writer
- Location
- Walking the Endless Corridors
[x] Tell her to cut the bullshit already. Since the moment you met she's been playing up how suspicious she is, helping just enough to keep you on edge while staying distant enough that you can't help but pay heed to to the paranoia. You want to know what her stake in helping you is.
- Location
- Earth
[X] Tell her to cut the bullshit already. Since the moment you met she's been playing up how suspicious she is, helping just enough to keep you on edge while staying distant enough that you can't help but pay heed to to the paranoia. You want to know what her stake in helping you is.
Happy to see this back!
Happy to see this back!
Ed: "Oh fuck, I like someone. Thats terrible. Shit."
This was a fun bit. Circe has none of the context that Ed has for being impressed/admiring Jeanne. To her, Jeanne is just.. well, a holy warrior from a distant land.
Backstory? Ed, give us that backstory. I demand it. Delicious backstory.
(I assume its vaguely Servant related, but honestly, could be other personal stuff. Not getting attached, all that.)
Melusine... hmmm. Shes a well known European water spirit, sometimes portrayed as a demon. Notably relevant to the time - shes sometimes credited with being the mythical ancestor of the Plantangenet line - the line of kings of England who could be said to have caused the Hundred Years War. Both in that their accumulation of power in France (at one point they held more land in France than the king of France) lead to friction, and also in that King John (yeah, that one) fucked it all up and lost it all, causing subsequent kings to try and regain it.
Notably, we are in the Eurie dLoire area of France (pardon the lack of apostrophes, keyboard isnt working) which is geographically rather close to Normandy and Anjou (if my geographical skills are not entirely wrong). Maybe related?
Scattering a group of Servants, though... We can take it as a given that shes strong - an Elemental with a great weight of Mystery behind her, almost implicitly, with ambiguous connections to the Lady of the Lake (or Ladies), but scattering a group of Servants... Somewhat worrying combination.
Hm. Hmmmmm. Approval at Eds distrust? Given that she seemed to know/recognise Galahad to some degree, thats an interesting reaction. Very interesting...
Also - thorns, so more Briar Rose/Sleeping Beauty stuff. Significant amounts, even.
If in cohort with Melusine... herding all Servants to a controlled area? But in that case, theres no need for all the people. Unless experiments...? Mmh.
[X] Ask her why the hell she's gathering refugees in her own little corner of paradise here. You're no fool, you know exactly what happens to the poor, to the weak, to the vulnerable when they get involved in the Moonlit World.
I think the first option might be the better for developing a social bond with her - if she appreciates Eds distrust for a possible separation from Galahad, then acting classically heroic might be a - for her. But, I want Ed to be the kind of guy who is concerned with the average person, and in this case... Yeah, its a bit shady.
- Location
- Ireland
- Pronouns
- They/Them/She/Her
[X] Ask her why the hell she's gathering refugees in her own little corner of paradise here. You're no fool, you know exactly what happens to the poor, to the weak, to the vulnerable when they get involved in the Moonlit World.
- Location
- United States
First of all, super happy this quest is back! This is a fantastic rendition of the completely as canon events of FGO, and I am here for absolutely all of it. Second, I know that there was a lot going on in this update, but this little detail caught my attention.
Now, it's entirely possible that I'm overthinking this, given that Charles is almost certainly an extremely common name in these parts, but given the presence of Avenger, I feel it pertinent to point out that she does have a connection to a man named Charles...Charles Perrault, the man who is most famous for codifying the French version of "Sleeping Beauty in the Woods" alongside multiple other fairy tales. As of now, it's just a coincidence, but given the heavy presence of fairy tale "Servants", it's something to keep an eye on...
[X] Tell her to cut the bullshit already. Since the moment you met she's been playing up how suspicious she is, helping just enough to keep you on edge while staying distant enough that you can't help but pay heed to to the paranoia. You want to know what her stake in helping you is.
Now, it's entirely possible that I'm overthinking this, given that Charles is almost certainly an extremely common name in these parts, but given the presence of Avenger, I feel it pertinent to point out that she does have a connection to a man named Charles...Charles Perrault, the man who is most famous for codifying the French version of "Sleeping Beauty in the Woods" alongside multiple other fairy tales. As of now, it's just a coincidence, but given the heavy presence of fairy tale "Servants", it's something to keep an eye on...
[X] Tell her to cut the bullshit already. Since the moment you met she's been playing up how suspicious she is, helping just enough to keep you on edge while staying distant enough that you can't help but pay heed to to the paranoia. You want to know what her stake in helping you is.
- Location
- The Land of Many Bregrets
- Pronouns
- They/Them
The problem with guessing Avenger's motives, especially re: the refugees, is that she is an Avenger, so it's hard to say without knowing who/what she's about gaining vengeance for.
Given this bit in particular, and the whole running theme of paranoia and suspicion running though this singularity (not just the protagonist, but those people in the village all convinced everyone else were murderers) it is something to do with suspicion. Vengeance for those killed unjustly / out of fear? Possible, but I get the weird impression she wants people to be suspicious of her, like in the way she subtly needled Niamh. But I'm not sure how to frame that in terms of 'seeking vengeance for [x]'.
Like, her being Avenger, specifically, has to mean something, this is the France Singularity by all rights Jeanne Alter should be holding that title.
Given this bit in particular, and the whole running theme of paranoia and suspicion running though this singularity (not just the protagonist, but those people in the village all convinced everyone else were murderers) it is something to do with suspicion. Vengeance for those killed unjustly / out of fear? Possible, but I get the weird impression she wants people to be suspicious of her, like in the way she subtly needled Niamh. But I'm not sure how to frame that in terms of 'seeking vengeance for [x]'.
Like, her being Avenger, specifically, has to mean something, this is the France Singularity by all rights Jeanne Alter should be holding that title.
EternalObserver
eYe Gaze baCk
- Location
- The Void
[X] Ask her why the hell she's gathering refugees in her own little corner of paradise here. You're no fool, you know exactly what happens to the poor, to the weak, to the vulnerable when they get involved in the Moonlit World.
Vote closed
- Location
- Ireland
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Due to a bit of a mixup, I'll flip a coin to determine which vote will win, with "cut the bullshit" being heads, or 1, and refugees being tails, or 2.
Edit: voting has now closed, the winning option was to as Avenger about the refugees.
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- Location
- Sweden
I don't think this should have this threadmark.
- Location
- Ireland
- Pronouns
- He/Him
There are no prequels and any prior RPs are not canon to or relevant to this story. Ed is a veteran because he has a past that relates to the world of magecraft and that past is important, but it's something you're intended to read without any prior knowledge.
(call it a hint that the chapter will be sooner rather than later so i can pretend it wasn't just a goof >>)
you didn't see anything
(call it a hint that the chapter will be sooner rather than later so i can pretend it wasn't just a goof >>)
Chapter Twenty Nine: Once Upon A Time
- Location
- Ireland
- Pronouns
- He/Him
"You're keeping all these people trapped." It's not a question. You've seen this before. You know what happens when someone with the power to hoard people and make them think that they should want it does something like this. Whatever kindness this woman has offered them, it's just the bait for the hook. It has to be.
"They are free to leave at any moment, Sir Edward. My briars shall part for them if they so desire."
"And they can go back out with nowhere to go back to, maybe abandoning their families who won't leave. Better to stay in your cozy little domain, right? You're pretending they have a choice, but they don't." You're not stopping the rage that bubbles up inside you, flashes of the kind of nightmares this situation causes flickering in your mind. Experiments. Resources. Entertainment. You've seen each and every one of them before, and you'll be damned if you ever have to see one again. "Tell me why the hell you're doing this, Avenger, because if you're planning on using them-"
"I am protecting them." For once, Avenger's voice dips to something sharp and curt, and that alone silences you for a moment, long enough for her to continue. "The people that I guided here are those with nothing at all to their names. They were those cast aside by their fellows, abandoned and left to rot without a care for whether or not they would perish. So forgotten and ignored that they were passed over when the killing began, and thus was I able to save them from the forest's corruption. I have no interest in providing salvation for those that would ignore others so cruelly, and had I granted shelter to such villains I would welcome your suspicion. Yet, I have not."
You'd gotten so used to Avenger's politeness that hearing her talk like that is a little disconcerting. Far from the amused smile she typically wore, her lips are drawn into a tight frown, the deep purple of her eyes looking almost red in the flickering firelight that illuminates the glade. You don't, you can't trust her, but even your well-honed suspicion can't find anything to doubt in her anger. Almost as if reading your thoughts, Avenger coughs into her hand and glances away, and the anger begins to bleed out of her. She's far too good at controlling herself to be comfortable, but you think you got something of a look at her behind that smile at least.
"...Forgive my outburst, but I ask that you do have a care in what you accuse me of, Sir Edward. Your caution does you credit, as does your care for those that I have gathered, but there are some things a hero should not doubt, even from an Avenger." She isn't smiling anymore, if anything looking embarrassed in a way that makes your far less suspicious heart beat a little faster, but the fire she had in those few moments is gone, hidden away once again. "If that was all you wished to know, then may I suggest that you gather your companions and rest?"
"Why?" You can't help but ask, the curiosity practically beating down the doors of your mind. Everything is in place for this to be a repeat of the massacres you've seen before, and you don't trust this woman. So why do you believe her? You have to know what's driving her to do this, even if it's just picking out the nuggets of truth in whatever lie she weaves. "Why save these people? You're an Avenger."
"...I am indeed a Servant of Vengeance." She bites her lip for a moment, as if struggling to find the words, before finally meeting your eyes and offering you another smile, this one a little smaller than usual. "Forgive me, Sir Edward, but my explanation may be somewhat difficult to accept."
"Go on." It's not like you didn't expect that anyway. She nods her head, beginning to speak at your request, her words tinted with just a hint of a far-away tone.
"There are...certain facts and events in my life that were not recorded in the tale of Briar Rose. One such fact is that I was not an only child. My younger brother was a truly exceptional boy, and he grew into a truly exceptional knight, the epitome of chivalry and heroism. It was an honor merely to know that I bore the same blood as him." Her smile grows distant, and even though she hasn't looked away, you get the sense that she's looking past you at something from long, long ago. "But...when I entered my bondage, when he saw me trapped in the briars and brambles and thorns, knew that I was crying out to be saved...he abandoned me. He left me to save others, and my suffering continued. My lonely punishment did not end, though it could have then and there."
"My torment would only conclude some time later, but I had not forgotten. My brother had cast me aside. Thus, I despised him. I swore my unending vengeance upon him. I grew to hate him so, so very much that I believe I even understand why he chose to leave me." She smiled wider, placing a hand on her chest as she spoke. "After all, to be capable of such hatred, I must be something truly despicable indeed. And yet even after I understood that I was rotten to the core, I continued to hate him. I do apologise if I have given you cause to see Briar Rose any differently, but the Servant you see before you is a contemptible existence sustained on an unjust loathing. As for why I have chosen to aid those in this camp...it is truly nothing but self-centered indulgence. Though it was for a just cause, I was abandoned. Thus, I shall give succor to those who are themselves abandoned. It is nothing more than playing at a dream, a way to pretend that I myself may have been saved like I wished for so long ago. After all, I made no effort to save those not cast aside. Some were villains, certainly, but others merely indifferent or ignorant or frightened. Yet even so, I only saved those clearly forsaken."
Your first instinct is to doubt. How could it not be, hearing something like that from someone you already distrust? Not just that she was real, but that her fairy tale missed so much of her story that she could become an Avenger? And yet even as you doubt, your mind is already conjuring up counters to your suspicions. Fictional characters cannot become Heroic Spirits, they don't have a soul to be enshrined in the Throne. Her being real is the only thing that makes sense, and you've personally fought King Arthur, who was secretly a woman. Every so often, you saw a Servant with your own eyes or read a report and learned that some things the legends said were wrong, and you just had to shrug and accept it. What makes now different?
More than that though, it's how she's said it. You've been certain that she's hiding things from you, and frankly you're still sure she's not telling you the whole story. But her smile is different now, not amused or mysterious. It's just a smile, and when she speaks she doesn't sound like she's trying to choke you on politeness alone. You're no lie-detector, all you've got to rely on is your own experience and your gut feeling, but if you were pushed to give a judgement…
You'd bet that, about this at the very least, she's telling the truth.
"...You're asking a lot for me to believe, you know." Even though you do, she doesn't need to know. Better to keep her on her toes, even if you're suddenly feeling a little off having accused her of something she apparently found abhorrent.
"Of course, Sir Edward. As I said, your caution does you credit. Did I not just explain what a hateful creature I am, so fitting for my class? But I assure you, nothing that I have said to you is false." She raises a finger to her chin for a moment, tilting her head as if lost in thought before speaking again. "If I may offer some advice in regards to your sister?"
"What?" The sudden swerve makes your stomach lurch a bit. If Niamh had managed to sway even Avenger-
"She is a loathsome creature. It's quite obvious that she craves your attention and affection, and that you spurn her at every moment for reasons that are...equally obvious. She is selfish, self-centered, and representative of the worst excesses the fae have to offer." Avenger's smile is gone once again, even her eyes seeming darker as she speaks. Despite not losing the polite tone, every word that slips past her lips feels like it's covered in thorns. "I can but only give you my advice, Sir Edward. A sickly sweetness is oft the first sign of rot. As one rotten myself, I cannot help but perceive it in her. And as one who was an older sibling… I know her to be a failure as one."
You're not ready to have this conversation with her. With anyone. It's things you've thought before being given shape and form and reality but it's with someone you don't trust, someone who you can't help but feel has a knife to plant in your back at any time. It's relieving and worrying and cathartic and invasive all at once, and all that combines to make you feel vaguely ill, and knowing you want to be anywhere but there. Fortunately, it seems that Avenger understands.
"Well, those too are merely some indulgent words on my part. It would not be right for a villain to tell a knight what they must do, and I suppose it might be rather unpleasant to have an outsider speak on a family matter." Once more, Avenger is smiling at you, just the right amount of amusement and concern and pleasantness to blend into something absolutely impossible to read. "I shall keep watch for the Maiden's companions and allow them inside, and then I believe I shall get some sleep myself. It has been a long day, after all. Please make yourself at home, Sir Edward."
There's not much more that you can do besides turn and start walking away, trying to ignore that queasy feeling in your stomach. Niamh's had the rug pulled out from her a few times by Olga, and you definitely enjoyed that, but that was just casual, vindictive fun. Nothing serious. Still, you only manage a few steps before you stop. Before anything else, you do still have one thing to say to her.
"I don't trust you, you know." Avenger's smile broadens just a bit, and she even nods almost happily.
"I am quite aware. Is aught amiss?"
"...I'm sorry for accusing you of using these people." You can't help it. If even half of what she said was true, then the two of you have more in common than you'd first expected. Never again. Wasn't that why you took up the shield? It's a smaller scale, and twisted by her vengeful nature, but you can't fault her choice to save people.
"...I see." She turns to face back to the entrance to the clearing, and for a moment you think that's it, but just before you start to walk away she speaks once more.
"Goodnight, Sir Edward. May your slumber be peaceful."
Jeanne is still busy with the people that Avenger saved, though she takes a moment to glance back and give you a nod. She's not going anywhere for a while you'd guess, and now that you have a moment to breathe the exhaustion's creeping up on you quicker than you'd thought it would. One of the refugees peels away to point out a smaller tent that no one's using, and you barely manage to murmur a word of thanks before she's gone, heading back to the growing crowd around the saint come back to life.
<"I will keep watch, Master. Please get some rest.">
<"Thanks, Archer.">
You didn't really need the reminder, but it's appreciated all the same. You believe Avenger about the people here specifically, but you don't have to let your guard down completely. Having your most fiercely protective Servant guarding you will help you sleep easier. Once you're inside, you start to draw the flaps of the tent closed and almost manage it before a furry, white rocket barrels through the very bottom of them, bounding over to the makeshift sleeping roll laid on the grass and starting to pad around to make it more comfortable.
"Fou!"
You stare at him for a moment before sighing, letting your chains loosen and slip off your chest as you move into the mat as well, maneuvering yourself and Fou until he finally relents and decides to use your stomach as a pillow. You can feel the tiredness prickling your eyes now, feel the slumber sluggishly spreading through your limbs, and by the time you've closed your eyes you're already drifting off.
You're nowhere.
Your eyes are open, but you can't see anything. It's just darkness.
A dream, you suppose, and not really a bad one. Those are worse than nothing.
But then why is it so clear?
Something is behind you, but when you turn, you see nothing.
Nothing, in the shape of a man. A void in the void, emptiness that makes other emptiness seem crowded.
You can see it move towards you, but you're not afraid. You can see it reach out to touch you, but you don't react.
You can see it freeze, as though it reached a wall, and you feel...sad?
There's a voice tickling your ears, a voice you know you've heard before in the darkest corners of your mind when you're being reassembled atom by atom to exist in the past.
It's strong, but soft as well. Gentle, but solid. Powerful, but lighter than a feather. You can't make out everything it says.
"...ame...my name…"
Your lips form around a word, but it slips from you as you start to rise from the emptiness. The nothingness before you steps back and you think you see it hang its head.
You feel sad, and you don't know why.
It, he, is nowhere.
You rise with a groan, Fou yipping and bolting off your stomach as you blearily rub your eyes. Your hand clasps around your chains and with a thought they wind around you as usual. It's a comforting weight, especially given that you expect today is going to be a long, long day. The first breath you take when you're properly awake is filled with a pleasantly earthy scent you can't quite place but makes your stomach rumble anyway, and if you strain your ears you can hear a crackling fire somewhere close by.
That's enough to let you relax your guard, just a bit. Chances are things can't have gone badly if someone's out calmly making breakfast, though you can at least admit to yourself that part of your haste to get outside is that you're just plain hungry. Fou's little chirps from beside you as you sit suggest that he probably feels the same, so after taking a moment to pet the familiar you stretch up and push aside the tent flap.
<"Good morning, Master. There was no danger to protect you from last night. Jeanne's Servants arrived a few hours after you slept.">
Archer's roundup is welcome, though you do wonder if maybe she's not giving you all the information you'd like. Her priorities don't exactly match yours, after all.
<"Thanks, Archer. Do you know who any of them are? Recognize any?">
<"No, Master. I did not leave this place to greet them. Goemon may be familiar with the dark-skinned one, however.">
<"Wait, what? Why do you say that?">
<"They are cuddling.">
That's bizarre enough for you to stand up out of your tent, glancing around and praying to yourself that Goemon hadn't managed to land himself in trouble while you were out. The people Avenger rescued are all spread out through the clearing, but there's one spot they're avoiding, and it happens to be the source of the delicious smell. As soon as you lay your eyes on it you just stare for a moment, a horrible, horrible feeling settling in the pit of your stomach. Jeanne is sitting on a stump near the fire, her white armor as resplendent as ever, but she's not who you're interested in right now. Surrounding her are three figures, one of which is uncomfortably familiar.
There's a beautiful woman with pale skin and light grey hair framing her delicate features and falling to the small of her back in two curled twin-tails, wearing something like a military uniform. Next to her, a handsome, dark-skinned man with short, cropped hair wearing a set of dark boots and matching pants, his shirt completely covered by the maroon waistcoat, bone-white cravat, and navy blue overcoat covered in gold trimmings that he wears. One arm is outstretched, stirring a heavy pot that hangs over the flame, while the other is wrapped around Goemon, shamelessly caressing the Assassin's hip while Goemon snuggles up to his side. The sight of those two is bizarre, but your discomfort comes from the third.
He's dressed the plainest of the three, but that doesn't exactly mean plain. Black boots and matching trousers, and a pale white shirt that you can only barely see beneath the brown, tightly buttoned longcoat he's wearing, trimmed with white at the cuffs and with a collar high enough that it reaches his cheek. He looks youthful and handsome, with pale blue eyes and a mop of white hair atop his head, but the instant he meets your eyes his own narrow, and you know exactly why.
"Edward, you're awake. Come here, I need to introduce everyone. Your Assassin has...made himself at home."
Jeanne's voice snaps you back to reality and if you were any less in control of yourself, you might have flushed with embarrassment at Goemon's antics. You hurry over to her, feeling the third Servant's gaze on you the whole while as Jeanne stands and starts to speak.
"I thought we'd have more time, but that was before what happened yesterday so I'll give you the short version. The witch with my face has been taking people from Paris and Chartres for a few days now, and last night my Servant spotted movement towards Orléans. I don't know why it's happening, but I do know that we can intercept her there and put a stop to all this. Once she's dead, the distortion should disappear, right?"
"Not exactly, but you're close." Surprisingly close, honestly. If the remnants of the Counter Force are calling on these free Servants, they're doing a great job at explaining. "We need to secure the Grail. It's the anchor point that's created by one of the Goetia- or maybe more of them, shit. You mentioned Buné yesterday, right? Are there any others?"
"No, just him. He's not making any attempt to hide himself or his Servants. I'm sure he's the only one."
"Right, then there should only be one Grail. Secure it, the Singularity begins to collapse, and-"
"Hey, hey, Eddie…" Goemon's voice cuts through the conversation and you have to take a deep breath before turning to him, just in case you're overcome with the urge to hit him when you see his face. "It's rude not to introduce yourself, hmm? Especially to such good company."
"Exactly! Come on, have a seat! This handsome ninja's got one arm, but as soon as I dish up some food my other side is completely free!" The man doing the cooking speaks up, and his voice is deep and rich and in any other context would have you nearly considering the offer. Goemon looks like he's having a great time, after all, and the man is shockingly handsome. But before you can react, he puts aside the spoon and moves so he can clap his hands as if in revelation.
"Ah, but we haven't introduced ourselves yet! Alexandre Dumas pére, Caster, at your service!" He gestures to the other two, a wide smile on his face. "Come on, come on. Be polite!"
"Rider." The woman speaks up next, giving you a polite but warm smile and inclining her head. You notice, now that you're closer, that what you'd taken for a particularly vibrant blue eye seems to be a sapphire set in her eye socket. "Marie Antoinette. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."
You can see the other man starting to speak, but you decide to rip the bandage off yourself instead, opening your mouth before he can get a word out.
"Assassin, Charles-Henri Sanson." He blinks at you in surprise, before nodding.
"Correct. I'm surprised you recognised me." His tone is as casual as can be, but he's still curious, you can feel it.
"We've met, sort of. You were in a War I was sent to." You'd shared a conversation with the man, and it still made your skin crawl to think about it. "I doubt you'd remember, but we've already had that talk, the one you're thinking of right now. You decided not to kill me."
"I see. Well, that simplifies things." With a nod, he turns back to staring into the fire, the orange light flickering in his pale-blue eyes. It'd be mesmerising, if the man didn't freak you out so much.
"Don't be rude, Charles." Marie speaks up again in a lightly chiding tone, and Sanson immediately glances over to her before looking away, finally settling on looking back at you and inclining his head.
"My apologies. I was somewhat unsettled that you knew me already. Jeanne trusts that you are a decent man, Edward, and thus so do I."
You nod. You'll take it, honestly. The last time he judged you, you hadn't been able to sleep for the next few days. At least now you know who they are, and what they're capable of. The moment the conversation dies down, Jeanne speaks up again, clearly wanting to keep things on track.
"Avenger's still asleep, but she'll be up before long, an hour at most before I wake her up. Your sister too, she made her own tent closer to the forest." She gestures, but you don't look back, and she doesn't pry. "Get some food, then get your Servants ready to move out. I need to prepare myself."
"Alright." It's odd having someone so capable taking charge of things again. It's like being a green Enforcer all over again.
Jeanne walks away and you take a seat on a stump beside Dumas, pointedly ignoring the way that he casually pulls Goemon to his side again and taking one of the wooden bowls at the base of the campfire, along with a spoon. Your stomach growls as Dumas dishes up a large portion of some kind of thick soup, filled with white beans and a few pieces of meat, and you think you catch a flash of a smile on Sanson's face before you start digging in.
Your Servants won't take that long to get together, and neither will Niamh. All in all, you've got a little time before you have to move out. Marie and Sanson both excuse themselves as soon as you start to eat, but they don't go far. Jeanne vanished into her tent as soon as she left and Avenger is nowhere to be seen, but you still have options.
Who are you going to speak with?
[ ] Dumas. Only Dumas, even if you have to kick Goemon away.
[ ] Goemon. It's about time you two had a talk.
[ ] Marie. She said the least of any of Jeanne's Servants, and you're not sure what to think.
[ ] Sanson. Maybe letting on that you knew who he was wasn't a good idea. It might help to clarify things.
[ ] Niamh. Wake your sister up and make sure she's ready. You don't particularly want to do this first thing in the morning, but better safe than sorry.
"They are free to leave at any moment, Sir Edward. My briars shall part for them if they so desire."
"And they can go back out with nowhere to go back to, maybe abandoning their families who won't leave. Better to stay in your cozy little domain, right? You're pretending they have a choice, but they don't." You're not stopping the rage that bubbles up inside you, flashes of the kind of nightmares this situation causes flickering in your mind. Experiments. Resources. Entertainment. You've seen each and every one of them before, and you'll be damned if you ever have to see one again. "Tell me why the hell you're doing this, Avenger, because if you're planning on using them-"
"I am protecting them." For once, Avenger's voice dips to something sharp and curt, and that alone silences you for a moment, long enough for her to continue. "The people that I guided here are those with nothing at all to their names. They were those cast aside by their fellows, abandoned and left to rot without a care for whether or not they would perish. So forgotten and ignored that they were passed over when the killing began, and thus was I able to save them from the forest's corruption. I have no interest in providing salvation for those that would ignore others so cruelly, and had I granted shelter to such villains I would welcome your suspicion. Yet, I have not."
You'd gotten so used to Avenger's politeness that hearing her talk like that is a little disconcerting. Far from the amused smile she typically wore, her lips are drawn into a tight frown, the deep purple of her eyes looking almost red in the flickering firelight that illuminates the glade. You don't, you can't trust her, but even your well-honed suspicion can't find anything to doubt in her anger. Almost as if reading your thoughts, Avenger coughs into her hand and glances away, and the anger begins to bleed out of her. She's far too good at controlling herself to be comfortable, but you think you got something of a look at her behind that smile at least.
"...Forgive my outburst, but I ask that you do have a care in what you accuse me of, Sir Edward. Your caution does you credit, as does your care for those that I have gathered, but there are some things a hero should not doubt, even from an Avenger." She isn't smiling anymore, if anything looking embarrassed in a way that makes your far less suspicious heart beat a little faster, but the fire she had in those few moments is gone, hidden away once again. "If that was all you wished to know, then may I suggest that you gather your companions and rest?"
"Why?" You can't help but ask, the curiosity practically beating down the doors of your mind. Everything is in place for this to be a repeat of the massacres you've seen before, and you don't trust this woman. So why do you believe her? You have to know what's driving her to do this, even if it's just picking out the nuggets of truth in whatever lie she weaves. "Why save these people? You're an Avenger."
"...I am indeed a Servant of Vengeance." She bites her lip for a moment, as if struggling to find the words, before finally meeting your eyes and offering you another smile, this one a little smaller than usual. "Forgive me, Sir Edward, but my explanation may be somewhat difficult to accept."
"Go on." It's not like you didn't expect that anyway. She nods her head, beginning to speak at your request, her words tinted with just a hint of a far-away tone.
"There are...certain facts and events in my life that were not recorded in the tale of Briar Rose. One such fact is that I was not an only child. My younger brother was a truly exceptional boy, and he grew into a truly exceptional knight, the epitome of chivalry and heroism. It was an honor merely to know that I bore the same blood as him." Her smile grows distant, and even though she hasn't looked away, you get the sense that she's looking past you at something from long, long ago. "But...when I entered my bondage, when he saw me trapped in the briars and brambles and thorns, knew that I was crying out to be saved...he abandoned me. He left me to save others, and my suffering continued. My lonely punishment did not end, though it could have then and there."
"My torment would only conclude some time later, but I had not forgotten. My brother had cast me aside. Thus, I despised him. I swore my unending vengeance upon him. I grew to hate him so, so very much that I believe I even understand why he chose to leave me." She smiled wider, placing a hand on her chest as she spoke. "After all, to be capable of such hatred, I must be something truly despicable indeed. And yet even after I understood that I was rotten to the core, I continued to hate him. I do apologise if I have given you cause to see Briar Rose any differently, but the Servant you see before you is a contemptible existence sustained on an unjust loathing. As for why I have chosen to aid those in this camp...it is truly nothing but self-centered indulgence. Though it was for a just cause, I was abandoned. Thus, I shall give succor to those who are themselves abandoned. It is nothing more than playing at a dream, a way to pretend that I myself may have been saved like I wished for so long ago. After all, I made no effort to save those not cast aside. Some were villains, certainly, but others merely indifferent or ignorant or frightened. Yet even so, I only saved those clearly forsaken."
Your first instinct is to doubt. How could it not be, hearing something like that from someone you already distrust? Not just that she was real, but that her fairy tale missed so much of her story that she could become an Avenger? And yet even as you doubt, your mind is already conjuring up counters to your suspicions. Fictional characters cannot become Heroic Spirits, they don't have a soul to be enshrined in the Throne. Her being real is the only thing that makes sense, and you've personally fought King Arthur, who was secretly a woman. Every so often, you saw a Servant with your own eyes or read a report and learned that some things the legends said were wrong, and you just had to shrug and accept it. What makes now different?
More than that though, it's how she's said it. You've been certain that she's hiding things from you, and frankly you're still sure she's not telling you the whole story. But her smile is different now, not amused or mysterious. It's just a smile, and when she speaks she doesn't sound like she's trying to choke you on politeness alone. You're no lie-detector, all you've got to rely on is your own experience and your gut feeling, but if you were pushed to give a judgement…
You'd bet that, about this at the very least, she's telling the truth.
"...You're asking a lot for me to believe, you know." Even though you do, she doesn't need to know. Better to keep her on her toes, even if you're suddenly feeling a little off having accused her of something she apparently found abhorrent.
"Of course, Sir Edward. As I said, your caution does you credit. Did I not just explain what a hateful creature I am, so fitting for my class? But I assure you, nothing that I have said to you is false." She raises a finger to her chin for a moment, tilting her head as if lost in thought before speaking again. "If I may offer some advice in regards to your sister?"
"What?" The sudden swerve makes your stomach lurch a bit. If Niamh had managed to sway even Avenger-
"She is a loathsome creature. It's quite obvious that she craves your attention and affection, and that you spurn her at every moment for reasons that are...equally obvious. She is selfish, self-centered, and representative of the worst excesses the fae have to offer." Avenger's smile is gone once again, even her eyes seeming darker as she speaks. Despite not losing the polite tone, every word that slips past her lips feels like it's covered in thorns. "I can but only give you my advice, Sir Edward. A sickly sweetness is oft the first sign of rot. As one rotten myself, I cannot help but perceive it in her. And as one who was an older sibling… I know her to be a failure as one."
You're not ready to have this conversation with her. With anyone. It's things you've thought before being given shape and form and reality but it's with someone you don't trust, someone who you can't help but feel has a knife to plant in your back at any time. It's relieving and worrying and cathartic and invasive all at once, and all that combines to make you feel vaguely ill, and knowing you want to be anywhere but there. Fortunately, it seems that Avenger understands.
"Well, those too are merely some indulgent words on my part. It would not be right for a villain to tell a knight what they must do, and I suppose it might be rather unpleasant to have an outsider speak on a family matter." Once more, Avenger is smiling at you, just the right amount of amusement and concern and pleasantness to blend into something absolutely impossible to read. "I shall keep watch for the Maiden's companions and allow them inside, and then I believe I shall get some sleep myself. It has been a long day, after all. Please make yourself at home, Sir Edward."
There's not much more that you can do besides turn and start walking away, trying to ignore that queasy feeling in your stomach. Niamh's had the rug pulled out from her a few times by Olga, and you definitely enjoyed that, but that was just casual, vindictive fun. Nothing serious. Still, you only manage a few steps before you stop. Before anything else, you do still have one thing to say to her.
"I don't trust you, you know." Avenger's smile broadens just a bit, and she even nods almost happily.
"I am quite aware. Is aught amiss?"
"...I'm sorry for accusing you of using these people." You can't help it. If even half of what she said was true, then the two of you have more in common than you'd first expected. Never again. Wasn't that why you took up the shield? It's a smaller scale, and twisted by her vengeful nature, but you can't fault her choice to save people.
"...I see." She turns to face back to the entrance to the clearing, and for a moment you think that's it, but just before you start to walk away she speaks once more.
"Goodnight, Sir Edward. May your slumber be peaceful."
Avenger's bond level has increased.
Jeanne is still busy with the people that Avenger saved, though she takes a moment to glance back and give you a nod. She's not going anywhere for a while you'd guess, and now that you have a moment to breathe the exhaustion's creeping up on you quicker than you'd thought it would. One of the refugees peels away to point out a smaller tent that no one's using, and you barely manage to murmur a word of thanks before she's gone, heading back to the growing crowd around the saint come back to life.
<"I will keep watch, Master. Please get some rest.">
<"Thanks, Archer.">
You didn't really need the reminder, but it's appreciated all the same. You believe Avenger about the people here specifically, but you don't have to let your guard down completely. Having your most fiercely protective Servant guarding you will help you sleep easier. Once you're inside, you start to draw the flaps of the tent closed and almost manage it before a furry, white rocket barrels through the very bottom of them, bounding over to the makeshift sleeping roll laid on the grass and starting to pad around to make it more comfortable.
"Fou!"
You stare at him for a moment before sighing, letting your chains loosen and slip off your chest as you move into the mat as well, maneuvering yourself and Fou until he finally relents and decides to use your stomach as a pillow. You can feel the tiredness prickling your eyes now, feel the slumber sluggishly spreading through your limbs, and by the time you've closed your eyes you're already drifting off.
---
You're nowhere.
Your eyes are open, but you can't see anything. It's just darkness.
A dream, you suppose, and not really a bad one. Those are worse than nothing.
But then why is it so clear?
Something is behind you, but when you turn, you see nothing.
Nothing, in the shape of a man. A void in the void, emptiness that makes other emptiness seem crowded.
You can see it move towards you, but you're not afraid. You can see it reach out to touch you, but you don't react.
You can see it freeze, as though it reached a wall, and you feel...sad?
There's a voice tickling your ears, a voice you know you've heard before in the darkest corners of your mind when you're being reassembled atom by atom to exist in the past.
It's strong, but soft as well. Gentle, but solid. Powerful, but lighter than a feather. You can't make out everything it says.
"...ame...my name…"
Your lips form around a word, but it slips from you as you start to rise from the emptiness. The nothingness before you steps back and you think you see it hang its head.
You feel sad, and you don't know why.
It, he, is nowhere.
---
You rise with a groan, Fou yipping and bolting off your stomach as you blearily rub your eyes. Your hand clasps around your chains and with a thought they wind around you as usual. It's a comforting weight, especially given that you expect today is going to be a long, long day. The first breath you take when you're properly awake is filled with a pleasantly earthy scent you can't quite place but makes your stomach rumble anyway, and if you strain your ears you can hear a crackling fire somewhere close by.
That's enough to let you relax your guard, just a bit. Chances are things can't have gone badly if someone's out calmly making breakfast, though you can at least admit to yourself that part of your haste to get outside is that you're just plain hungry. Fou's little chirps from beside you as you sit suggest that he probably feels the same, so after taking a moment to pet the familiar you stretch up and push aside the tent flap.
<"Good morning, Master. There was no danger to protect you from last night. Jeanne's Servants arrived a few hours after you slept.">
Archer's roundup is welcome, though you do wonder if maybe she's not giving you all the information you'd like. Her priorities don't exactly match yours, after all.
<"Thanks, Archer. Do you know who any of them are? Recognize any?">
<"No, Master. I did not leave this place to greet them. Goemon may be familiar with the dark-skinned one, however.">
<"Wait, what? Why do you say that?">
<"They are cuddling.">
That's bizarre enough for you to stand up out of your tent, glancing around and praying to yourself that Goemon hadn't managed to land himself in trouble while you were out. The people Avenger rescued are all spread out through the clearing, but there's one spot they're avoiding, and it happens to be the source of the delicious smell. As soon as you lay your eyes on it you just stare for a moment, a horrible, horrible feeling settling in the pit of your stomach. Jeanne is sitting on a stump near the fire, her white armor as resplendent as ever, but she's not who you're interested in right now. Surrounding her are three figures, one of which is uncomfortably familiar.
There's a beautiful woman with pale skin and light grey hair framing her delicate features and falling to the small of her back in two curled twin-tails, wearing something like a military uniform. Next to her, a handsome, dark-skinned man with short, cropped hair wearing a set of dark boots and matching pants, his shirt completely covered by the maroon waistcoat, bone-white cravat, and navy blue overcoat covered in gold trimmings that he wears. One arm is outstretched, stirring a heavy pot that hangs over the flame, while the other is wrapped around Goemon, shamelessly caressing the Assassin's hip while Goemon snuggles up to his side. The sight of those two is bizarre, but your discomfort comes from the third.
He's dressed the plainest of the three, but that doesn't exactly mean plain. Black boots and matching trousers, and a pale white shirt that you can only barely see beneath the brown, tightly buttoned longcoat he's wearing, trimmed with white at the cuffs and with a collar high enough that it reaches his cheek. He looks youthful and handsome, with pale blue eyes and a mop of white hair atop his head, but the instant he meets your eyes his own narrow, and you know exactly why.
"Edward, you're awake. Come here, I need to introduce everyone. Your Assassin has...made himself at home."
Jeanne's voice snaps you back to reality and if you were any less in control of yourself, you might have flushed with embarrassment at Goemon's antics. You hurry over to her, feeling the third Servant's gaze on you the whole while as Jeanne stands and starts to speak.
"I thought we'd have more time, but that was before what happened yesterday so I'll give you the short version. The witch with my face has been taking people from Paris and Chartres for a few days now, and last night my Servant spotted movement towards Orléans. I don't know why it's happening, but I do know that we can intercept her there and put a stop to all this. Once she's dead, the distortion should disappear, right?"
"Not exactly, but you're close." Surprisingly close, honestly. If the remnants of the Counter Force are calling on these free Servants, they're doing a great job at explaining. "We need to secure the Grail. It's the anchor point that's created by one of the Goetia- or maybe more of them, shit. You mentioned Buné yesterday, right? Are there any others?"
"No, just him. He's not making any attempt to hide himself or his Servants. I'm sure he's the only one."
"Right, then there should only be one Grail. Secure it, the Singularity begins to collapse, and-"
"Hey, hey, Eddie…" Goemon's voice cuts through the conversation and you have to take a deep breath before turning to him, just in case you're overcome with the urge to hit him when you see his face. "It's rude not to introduce yourself, hmm? Especially to such good company."
"Exactly! Come on, have a seat! This handsome ninja's got one arm, but as soon as I dish up some food my other side is completely free!" The man doing the cooking speaks up, and his voice is deep and rich and in any other context would have you nearly considering the offer. Goemon looks like he's having a great time, after all, and the man is shockingly handsome. But before you can react, he puts aside the spoon and moves so he can clap his hands as if in revelation.
"Ah, but we haven't introduced ourselves yet! Alexandre Dumas pére, Caster, at your service!" He gestures to the other two, a wide smile on his face. "Come on, come on. Be polite!"
"Rider." The woman speaks up next, giving you a polite but warm smile and inclining her head. You notice, now that you're closer, that what you'd taken for a particularly vibrant blue eye seems to be a sapphire set in her eye socket. "Marie Antoinette. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."
You can see the other man starting to speak, but you decide to rip the bandage off yourself instead, opening your mouth before he can get a word out.
"Assassin, Charles-Henri Sanson." He blinks at you in surprise, before nodding.
"Correct. I'm surprised you recognised me." His tone is as casual as can be, but he's still curious, you can feel it.
"We've met, sort of. You were in a War I was sent to." You'd shared a conversation with the man, and it still made your skin crawl to think about it. "I doubt you'd remember, but we've already had that talk, the one you're thinking of right now. You decided not to kill me."
"I see. Well, that simplifies things." With a nod, he turns back to staring into the fire, the orange light flickering in his pale-blue eyes. It'd be mesmerising, if the man didn't freak you out so much.
"Don't be rude, Charles." Marie speaks up again in a lightly chiding tone, and Sanson immediately glances over to her before looking away, finally settling on looking back at you and inclining his head.
"My apologies. I was somewhat unsettled that you knew me already. Jeanne trusts that you are a decent man, Edward, and thus so do I."
You nod. You'll take it, honestly. The last time he judged you, you hadn't been able to sleep for the next few days. At least now you know who they are, and what they're capable of. The moment the conversation dies down, Jeanne speaks up again, clearly wanting to keep things on track.
"Avenger's still asleep, but she'll be up before long, an hour at most before I wake her up. Your sister too, she made her own tent closer to the forest." She gestures, but you don't look back, and she doesn't pry. "Get some food, then get your Servants ready to move out. I need to prepare myself."
"Alright." It's odd having someone so capable taking charge of things again. It's like being a green Enforcer all over again.
Chaldea's Information Matrix has been updated.
Jeanne walks away and you take a seat on a stump beside Dumas, pointedly ignoring the way that he casually pulls Goemon to his side again and taking one of the wooden bowls at the base of the campfire, along with a spoon. Your stomach growls as Dumas dishes up a large portion of some kind of thick soup, filled with white beans and a few pieces of meat, and you think you catch a flash of a smile on Sanson's face before you start digging in.
Your Servants won't take that long to get together, and neither will Niamh. All in all, you've got a little time before you have to move out. Marie and Sanson both excuse themselves as soon as you start to eat, but they don't go far. Jeanne vanished into her tent as soon as she left and Avenger is nowhere to be seen, but you still have options.
Who are you going to speak with?
[ ] Dumas. Only Dumas, even if you have to kick Goemon away.
[ ] Goemon. It's about time you two had a talk.
[ ] Marie. She said the least of any of Jeanne's Servants, and you're not sure what to think.
[ ] Sanson. Maybe letting on that you knew who he was wasn't a good idea. It might help to clarify things.
[ ] Niamh. Wake your sister up and make sure she's ready. You don't particularly want to do this first thing in the morning, but better safe than sorry.
EternalObserver
eYe Gaze baCk
- Location
- The Void
[X] Marie. She said the least of any of Jeanne's Servants, and you're not sure what to think.
Sightedjt
Everlasting Flames
I still have some doubts about the tale Jannu is spinning here. it just feels a bit too... clear cut. "Hey, here's people the pillars have, you don't like the pillar, let's go do the violence."
We've already seen one case of the pillars acting against each other, why not another? Jannu, or whoever gave her the info, could easily be working for another of the pillars. I mean, it could also be the case of doing the big bluff where Jannu or someone in her lot is the one working for Buné, and then made a point to get to us first to colour our views.
I mean, I could just be overthinking things, but it just seems a bit too good to be true.
We've already seen one case of the pillars acting against each other, why not another? Jannu, or whoever gave her the info, could easily be working for another of the pillars. I mean, it could also be the case of doing the big bluff where Jannu or someone in her lot is the one working for Buné, and then made a point to get to us first to colour our views.
I mean, I could just be overthinking things, but it just seems a bit too good to be true.
- Location
- Earth
[X] Niamh. Wake your sister up and make sure she's ready. You don't particularly want to do this first thing in the morning, but better safe than sorry.
- Location
- Ireland
- Pronouns
- They/Them/She/Her
[X] Goemon. It's about time you two had a talk.
It's been 3,000 years
It's been 3,000 years