Fate/Ethereal Order

[Squirtodyle]

You never thought you'd see the day where you're choosing to walk into a Lord's office willingly instead of putting it off for as long as humanly possible, but between your need for answers and the fact that you've got something even worse to look forward to, you find yourself walking towards Director Animusphere's office, right beside the command center. Fou's still wrapped around your shoulders, though the tired sigh he gave and the tiniest little snores you've ever heard in your life by your ear suggests he's fallen asleep, and you're loath to wake the little guy. Unfortunately, that means that you have to draw closer and closer to the epicenter of the disaster without any moral support.

It's not the first cleanup operation after something tragic you've walked through. More than once you've had to stick around after something like a War or a particularly destructive tantrum from magi who thought themselves untouchable. Chaldea's by no means the worst, though it's impossible not to see the scars. Melted steel, sparking circuitry, and every so often a bloodstain. Staff crowd around you as the cleanup continues, but every so often you see them glance up and double-take, whispering and smiling. Once, you even get a wave. It's strange, but...well, not unpleasant.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot someone struggling with a door, wedging his fingers into the small crack between the wall and the door before cursing under his breath as they slip free and he shakes them off, glaring at the doors as they stubbornly refuse to budge. Damaged wiring, probably. Without thinking, you move towards it and slide your fingers where his had been a few moments ago, the uniformed man stepping back and giving you a look.

"Wait, hang on, be careful-" He starts to speak, English with maybe a little hint of a German accent beneath it, but you shake your head and cut him off.

"It's fine, I got it." With a deep breath, you get ready to put your back into it, before the sensible part of your mind reminds you that you're a Demi-Servant now. Giving it all you have might have worked normally before, but doing it now would probably end in you bending it totally out of shape, if not tearing it right out of the frame. So, with a more sensible estimation of how much force you'll need, you start to pull...and yelp as you nearly trip over your own feet, the door moving far more easily than you'd imagined. It slams into the slot for it on the other side of the wall, and you manage to avoid falling, though as soon as you stabilize yourself you feel a fuzzy paw bat at your ear, before hearing an indignant cry of "Fou!"

"(sorry, sorry, go back to sleep, sorry...)" you mumble under your breath, before turning back to the man and stepping aside. From a quick glance into the room, it's full of a lot of machines that you can't identify, with plenty of beeping, flashing lights, and pulsing screens telling you you're out of your depth. You're hardly tech illiterate, but even you have limits. "There. Something important inside?"

"Ah...just some servers and machines we use for calculations during Rayshifts." He's looking at you like you're ten feet tall, and before you can try maneuver yourself out of the awkward conversation he breaks into a wide smile, holding out his hand. "Oh, hey, you're okay! I saw you come back from Fuyuki but you were unconscious, I was a little worried something had gone wrong, but...well, I guess everything worked out, huh?"

"Uh, right. I think I collapsed from other things, not the Rayshift." It's bizarre having someone look at you, know you, and start smiling. You take his hand and give it a shake, all the while trying to figure out what's going on with him. Is he a mundane or a magus? He's a little bit on the shorter side compared to you, maybe five-seven, five-eight, a little heavier than average, with a mop of curly blond hair, light blue eyes, and a boyish smile you can't help but find a bit cute. You definitely haven't ever seen him before, but apparently after a day word's traveled enough for people to not treat you too weirdly for being a miracle of magecraft that probably shouldn't be possible.

"Well, now that that door's open we can make sure it stays that way, heh. I'm Stefan. And you're Edward, right?" Still not a hint of worry or anything beyond friendliness. It's a little odd, and you're not really equipped to deal with it, not with the meetings you've got coming up. Still, you suppose it's better than him being too afraid to look at you, or too up his own ass that he can only look down on you, for that matter.

"Mhm, that's me." And you really need to get going. "Sorry, I have a meeting with the Director..."

"Oh, right. Thanks for the help, Edward!" Fortunately, that's enough to fend him off, though you're left with a little bit of a strange feeling of dissatisfaction. Maybe just because there's something worse waiting for you doesn't mean you can resist trying to put off meeting Olgamarie Aniumsphere just a little bit. With a sigh, you keep walking as Stefan disappears into the room full of beeping machines, and before too much longer you're by the Director's office.

It's immaculate, compared to everywhere else. Repair efforts must have been concentrated around here, which makes sense. The doors to the Rayshifting chamber and the giant globe of CHALDEAS are wide open, people moving in and out every so often, taking away chunks of rubble and debris. Even if they work fast and have magecraft, the destruction in there was too much for just a day's work to clear away. With thoughts of using your newfound strength to maybe help once all your obligations are dealt with, you square yourself in front of Olga's door and rap on it sharply.

You're only halfway through your second knock before the light on the door's panel flashes from red to green and you hear a familiar, curt voice.

"Come in, Dempsey."

A quick glance above and you notice the tiny black lens of a camera at the top of the door frame, so you know Olga can see it when you sigh. Three words in and you're already wishing you could just turn around and leave, but indulging in your grudge against her kind can come later, once you actually understand what the hell is going on. As the door hisses open, Fou gives a squeak and leaps down, raising a single paw and...waving? It distracts you so much as you watch the little guy take off and start scampering his way down the hall that you miss what's inside Olga's office for just a moment, at least until you turn back again.

It's barren, almost. Oh, her desk is absolutely packed, holographic displays, monitors, keyboards, paper files, and ancient-looking tomes covering every square inch in the kind of barely-constrained chaotic organization you'd expect Olga and and basically no one else to be able to really work with. But everywhere else? There's two bookshelves, neatly separated on either side of the room, and a small chest of drawers with a kettle and a tea set on top of it. It's functional, not ostentatious, and that alone makes it bizarre.

Chaldea's Director looks at you sharply, and you think that if you didn't know what had happened with Flauros and Bael, you'd never have known she just lost the two people she'd told you specifically to bring back. No signs of tears, no tantrum marks on the walls, not even a single pale hair out of place. The picture of professional, not even reacting to the sight of you in your armor.

"We have much to discuss. Have a seat." She gestures towards the chair opposite her, and you kind of appreciate how direct she's being. Sooner you're done, the better. "Your Servants filled me in, but I want to hear it from you. Lev Lainur and Romani Archaman were demons from the Ars Goetia, who were both trying to sabotage Chaldea?"

"That's what Bael said. They weren't working together, they were competing. Bael planned on freezing everyone to death in the Klein Coffins, Flauros..." You trail off, giving an awkward shrug. She knows what Flauros did. "Bael took over Romani two years ago, according to him. He didn't mention how long it had been since Flauros did the same to Lev."

"I see." She flinched at that, just the tiniest, smallest amount, and it's not hard to see why. How long has she known the man? How many years would she have to look over and review to see if she could find any hint at when she lost Lev to a demon? You don't like her, but you're not heartless.

"...I'm sorry." The words slip out before you can stop them, and you regret it almost immediately as she gives you a sharp glance, but after a moment she just sighs.

"I appreciate it, Dempsey." There's a beat of awkward silence between you two. She sighs, leans back, and snaps her fingers. The back wall of her office fades into transparency as she turns her chair toward it, giving you both a view into the Rayshifting chamber. CHALDEAS floats in the centre, slowly revolving untouched by the bombs and the devastation they left in their wake, still being cleaned by the workers scuttling around beneath. Here and there you see the reinforced metal tubes you remember from your last time in the chamber, the glass panels completely blacked out and a thin layer of frost covering most of them.

"Twelve died. There was nothing we could do about them." She starts to speak, and you grimace as she does. It might have been a pipe dream, but you really had hoped that Flauros had screwed up too badly to cause deaths. Still, if only twelve died, the rest were in a better state, right? "Thirty-four are in cryogenic suspension, and they're going to stay that way until we can safely revive them. Typical estimates are about a year from now. Even our damn golden boy Wodime is frozen." For a moment, there's a flash of...something on her face. Wodime is a name that tickles the back of your memory, but it slips out of your grasp before you can figure out why you know it.

"It's just you and Niamh, and Niamh's already tried summoning Servants, it just doesn't work." For a moment she stays there, looking out over CHALDEAS as she bites her lip, before turning to give you a hard stare. "I don't know what on earth happened to you, Dempsey. Chaldea made incursions into Demi-Servant research before I was Director, but we abandoned it a long time ago with no success. Half of me still thinks that this is some kind of horrible nightmare. But you're a Demi-Servant, and you're the only one who can summon Servants anymore, Archer makes that clear enough."

"Goemon too." You cut in almost without thinking, and Olga frowns. "I, ah, summoned him accidentally when I stored the Grail. I don't know how, but-"

"Mmh. Power surge flowing to the FATE system most likely. Since everything seems to be funneled through you now, I suppose it makes sense." You don't know why it was your shield specifically, but if Olga is satisfied with the explanation then that's fine by you. "Keep Goemon under control, we'll give him pick of a room in the Servant wing once we're done here. But my point, Dempsey, is that this operation was meant to involve nearly fifty Masters, all covering a wide variety of competencies and skills, all working together. And now it's just you and Niamh."

It's a struggle not to react to that. A beep on one of her screens distracts her for a moment and she starts to type something out, leaving you to sit there and stew on what she's just said. You've gone from a cog in the machine to the most vital component, and the only backup you have is Niamh. With whatever she was dealing with resolved, Olga turns back to you and starts speaking like she'd never stopped.

"This isn't a situation where we can afford a failure. I dearly wish that I could sugarcoat this for you, but I can't. If we mess this up, then humanity is over. Gone. Destroyed." Her gaze turns hard, and she leans over her desk, both her palms flat against it. "I'm well aware you don't like me, Dempsey. You're obvious about it, and frankly? I don't like you either. But until everything is over, I'm ordering you to put up with it, because I would very much like to have a world in which we could both continue to dislike each other. Does that seem fair?"

There's a stupid, irrational urge to lash out at her for acting like you're the difficult one when she's been sitting on her ass in Chaldea and only listening to stories about you fighting for your life, but you force that down. She's right, and just because she's being a bitch about it doesn't mean she hasn't been dealing with her own issues. Frankly, you'd prefer to set on her with enough verbal barbs to make Gae Bolg seem tame, but you can do that once history is back to normal. Being reminded so clearly of the stakes is making your stomach churn a bit.

"Fair." She gives a nod at that, before sitting back down and folding her arms. She's giving you most of her attention, but now and then you see her eyes flick around at her desk. Just how much is she overseeing after what happened yesterday?

"Alright. You and Niamh will be going into the next seven Singularities as we calculate Rayshifting co-ordinates. I don't care what problems you have with her, deal with them, this is bigger than them." Expected, but god, you hate the idea. "While you're in the field, rules of engagement are up to you. While you're in Chaldea, keep yourselves prepared and keep your Servants under control. All the FATE system contracts use mana funneled from Chaldea through the Master, so you should be able to support a very decent amount of Servants. If you get more when you install a Grail, excellent, if not, try recruiting. Any questions?"

"How did you know there would be seven more?" Chaldea was prepared for eight Singularities from the very beginning, and it has to have been years since that inner chamber was constructed. How long have the Singularities been common knowledge for them? "And how do you supply that much mana? That sounds impossible."

"Classified information." Her eyes flicker with something like anger that that's what you picked up on, but with a tight scowl she moves on swiftly. "And also classified information. I meant about your mission, not things you don't need to be worrying-"

"I want to know, Olga." She seems taken aback that you're using her first name for a moment, before that surprise shifts to a lot more anger. "This isn't how things were meant to be, I get it. But we need to work with each other, and I want to know what's going on behind the scenes instead of worrying. That's fair, isn't it?"

For a moment, her mouth hangs open and moves as if she's trying to make sounds but can't, before she grimaces again, seeming even more annoyed than when you spoke. Finally, she gives a groan and speaks, though there's a strange quality to it, like she's trying to speak with an iron band around her neck.

"...Da Vinci was not the first Servant Chaldea summoned, and we have an arrangement. I can't tell you any more." The look in her eyes makes you hesitate. Can't? If she'd been placed under a geis or something similar...

Maybe she hadn't really been angry at you when you brought it up.

"Fine. One last question then. Where the hell are we? How do we know we aren't going to be attacked again?"

She gives a mirthless grin, before pulling up something on her desk and spinning it so you can see. It takes you a moment to recognise Chaldea in the center, then the mountains ranging out from it, then...

Nothing.

"Chaldea, and everthing within two kilometer radius, has been temporally and spatially unstuck. The Wizard Marshall offered us his help a year ago, and after the attack, I made the decision. We're in the Kaleidoscope now, our own mini-Singularity. Impossible to find, detect, or trace. With human history being incinerated from the foundations up, it's best we remain unattached. It wouldn't help our mission if we ended up burning up with the rest of the world."

You look at her like she's grown another head, and you don't think many people would blame you. Zelretch himself had helped her with this insane maneuver, and...and everyone was going along with it. You've seen enough of it now to imagine that doing it secretly wasn't Olga's style, but it means that there's no going back. She's burned the ships, now. None of you can go home until you've finished your work or you're dead.

Well, you never had much of a home to go to anyway. Is it really all that bad for you?

"I...see. That's everything, then." She gives you a nod, before waving her hand at the door as she starts tapping away at her keyboard.

"Then that'll be all for now, Dempsey. Keep Goemon under control. You're free until we calculate the coordinates for the next Singularity."

You're dismissed as if she hadn't just dropped a bombshell on you, and when you walk out the door you distinctly feel like you're in some kind of daze. It's one thing to volunteer to live in Chaldea for a year or so with no chance of leaving or going back. It's another to have that choice made so clearly and firmly fixed, with no way to go back on it even if you wanted to, to have it made clear that this was something most people had been aware of but you.

Stupid Animusphere. You half wish it could have escalated into a shouting match just to blow off some steam, but it is what it is. You need to keep moving.

You miss Fou a little.

[ ] The cafeteria. Your stomach is growling at you more, and you're starting to wonder how much longer you can continue to ignore it before it starts getting uncomfortable. Plus, even if you meet Da Vinci again, you might be more comfortable around her with all your newfound power.

[ ] The medical ward. Matthew's a pillar of sanity and stability in a mountaintop complex that seems to have totally run out of both after everything you just heard. Going back to get tested will give you a little more knowledge about what's happened to you, and it also means spending more time with him. Selfish, maybe, and definitely a bad idea to get too close to him, but a little bit can't hurt.

[ ] Niamh's room. You can't avoid it forever, and you don't now what mood she'll be in if you put it off as long as possible. Even just the thought of it makes your body feel cold and your skin feel clammy, but you need to rip the bandage off and just get it over with. If you can just bear with it for a little while, everything will be fine.

 

[Squirtodyle]

You know deep down that there's no real other option, that for all the good reasons you had for going where you did when you did, at the core there was always one little selfish reason too. Putting off what was to come just a bit longer, almost praying for something to go wrong just so you could have an excuse to feed her when she came wondering why you didn't visit when you said you would. But Olga made it clear, didn't she? You two have to work together, or everything everywhere dies.

Of course, you might still fail, and then you'll just be miserable when the end times come, but even you know that's more a little pathetic to imagine just to avoid speaking to her. You're strong now, aren't you? You're strong and dangerous and tough and you're not trapped anymore. It'll be fine. It'll be fine because it has to be fine, because you've stared down the Sword of Promised Victory and blocked it and it's completely stupid to be afraid of talking to her now that you've been granted so much power. You just need to keep reminding yourself that things have changed, that you're the strong one now. That'll keep your head held high when you're there.

It doesn't take long to get to Niamh's room, and it doesn't take long to figure out which one it is either. Where before it had been as plain as the other rooms, a steel sliding door set into uniform walls with only a numbered panel next to it to offer any kind of variety, it seemed to have been replaced with aged wood, beautifully carved into illustrations of towers and castles and knights and dragons. You recognise it from years ago, the exact same door to Niamh's wing of your tree-grown manor, and the sight of it makes you tense up a little more. An illusion she won't even see most of the time, but it's so flawless you'd almost be fooled if you weren't familiar with the real thing. Even the scent was perfect, and it takes you back with all the tenderness of a brick to the face.

Just seeing that little reminder of the house you grew up in is enough to send a shiver down your spine, and you almost miss the gentle green glow of one of Niamh's summoned pixies darting through the door like it isn't even there. Meaning that Niamh had been looking out for you, and now she knows you're-

"Ea-aaaadward!"

Fuck.

You'd hoped for a few moments to get your bearings and try calm yourself down after that stupid door made you flinch but now it's sliding open and swinging out at the same time and it even sounds like a heavy, creaking oak door because why wouldn't it, and she's staring up at you with the kind of smile people reserve for loved ones who've recently come back from the dead and you-

You can handle this, you can. You're strong now. Just fake it for a little bit, mention you haven't eaten, and excuse yourself, you can handle this.

"You're finally here! I was waiting for a while, it did give me time to finish remodelling, but you must have been busy!" Her smile is as sweet as ever, but the words feel like you've swallowed ice and you scramble to respond with your excuses.

"I-I...had to make sure my Servants were behaving, and then the Director wanted to talk to me. I would have been here sooner but-" She gives a little "hmm!" of appreciation and she starts to speak again.

"Ah, right! Well, you're here now, that's what matters, right? Oh, I'm so sorry about what happened earlier by the way, I know that doctor man was trying to help but really, interrupting us the first time we got to chat? I should have locked the door or had someone stand guard, but I just didn't want to leave until you woke up, so..."

There's not a single hint that she thinks anything she's saying is wrong, and as much as you entertain the fantasy of letting the vitriol fly, you know it would only make things worse. It's better for everyone to just give her what she wants, so you fake a small smile, tired of course, but making an effort to visit her regardless, aren't you such a good brother, and nod.

"Don't worry about it. I'm feeling better now."

Even that little noncommittal answer is something she accepts happily, and when she steps in and moves aside to invite you in, you stare for just a moment. You can't really help it, considering you're walking into a forest glade.

Gone are the sterile grey steel walls that the rooms had, gone are the sliding doors to the bathroom, gone even is the ten-by-ten limitation on space. You're walking into a sunlit glade in the middle of a dark forest, every breath you take full of life and light and energy. You can smell sun-baked wood and teasing notes of roses and lavender and hyacinth and every flower you've ever liked, congealed into something that should offend your senses but just delights them instead. You can feel the heat from the sun warming your skin where your armor leaves it bare, see the seemingly endless expanse of the forest surrounding you, and after the hellscape that was Fuyuki and the agonizingly artificial aesthetic of Chaldea, you can't stop yourself from enjoying it, as much as you know you shouldn't. An errant thought crosses your mind, and when you turn to look at the door, it's like a portal to a completely new world, a rectangular window back into Chaldea's monotone halls carved into reality without a single thought for how physics should work.

And then it slams shut.

You can't help but jump, and then immediately Niamh is at your side and squeezing your arm and talking about how the door has to shut quickly or her Bounded Field will be disrupted and she'll have to start all over again as if she didn't put it all together in the space of a few hours tops, and you smile and nod and act understanding like her touch didn't make your skin crawl almost worse than the sudden slam of her door.

Being trapped inside this idyllic fantasy she's created makes you feel like you've swallowed acid, and no matter how much you repeat to yourself that you can free yourself if you have to, that twisting little fear nestled in your stomach doesn't disappear.

Calm down.

You can handle this. You're...you're both members of Chaldea. You're crucial, even more than she is. She got that speech just as much as you did, you're sure of it. You're going to be fine.

She starts to tug you along without any hint that she's letting go anytime soon, worming her way into the spaces where your chains don't cover your arms, and you don't want to burn any goodwill you might have so you let her pull you closer to the center of the glade. The moment you cross some kind of threshold a curtain of shimmering light pulls back, and you can see that even the empty glade was an illusion, something for Niamh to admire without anything polluting it when she felt like it. Behind the veil, there's a small cottage with two of Niamh's faerie knights standing stoically on either side of the entrance, dark wood making up the walls with a base of chiseled stone and a set of delicate wooden steps leading up to the door. Niamh stops and holds out her hand expectantly to the knight on the right, opposite you, and then giggles as he leans down and kisses the back of it. It's a fantasy world that you remember all too well, except ten years ago it was a real forest.

When you came to Chaldea, you left everything behind except the comforts you could bring in a single suitcase and on your person. But her? She just learned how to take her fantasy and make it for herself wherever she went.

You hate her a little more for that.

The interior is about what you expected, a carbon copy of every single idyllic cottage the innocent protagonist of a fairy tale lives in at the start. Illuminated by the light flowing through the windows, but you see little oil lamps suspended for light when it gets dark, a stone fireplace with cushioned, carved-wood chairs arranged around it on one side, a small little table for eating with a tea-set on top of it, a bookshelf delicately filled with illuminated tomes and stories on another side, and a small set of stairs leading up to what's no doubt an equally perfect bedroom. A few paintings adorn the walls of the cottage, a knight slaying a dragon, a princess in a tower, children fleeing a house made of gingerbread. Her tastes haven't changed in the last decade.

It makes your stomach turn to be here again, your instinctive reaction to the false but wonderful life around here battling with the biting, bitter cold of the memories of your time at the estate she's patterned this off of, and for once you thank whatever god is listening that Niamh has always been so focused on herself. If she wasn't, she might have seen your fists clenching before you could stop them, notice the cold sweat at the back of your neck, the little tremor you gave when you stepped inside. She's come to fight on behalf of humanity but she's just- she's just playing house inside here while everyone else is doing their best to help, like there's nothing in the world that matters besides this. It's enough to make you sick, more so than you've already felt.

"Here, sit, I'll get you some tea." She finally lets go of your arm and all but pushes you into one of the wooden chairs without a thought. It'd almost feel like you're kids again, if it wasn't for the clanking of your armor. She sits down beside you a second or two later and you know that's not fast enough to have made anything at all, but understanding dawns as soon as you turn to glance backwards. A beautiful woman with light blue skin and pointed ears wearing a long, grey silk dress is tending to the stove and the kettle. When she notices you looking, Niamh gives a proud smile and starts to speak.

"She's very helpful, isn't she? Once I started being able to create silkies properly I was able to cut down on a lot of time doing work! I mean, I could have just used brownies, but they aren't really all that pretty. What do you think?" It's an utterly bizarre line of conversation to launch into, but you're almost glad for it. If you can keep her focus onto other things long enough, you might not have to discuss the awkward topics, like why you've avoided your dear old family for a decade, as much as being around her is still making you squirm.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I think she's...nice. It must be handy, not having to do things for yourself when you're away."

"Absolutely! I mean, back home we had the Géaga, but you know what they were like. So difficult. You remember all the times they would ignore me and I had to make sure they paid attention? Silkies are so much more reliable!"

"I..." You remember glowing scarlet eyes and a whipcrack voice, ramrod straight spines and bulging veins and forced-shut mouths as the homunculi that you grew up with had their will ripped away from them for taking too long, or for having another task at the time, or for interrupting when she was doing something else. You remember her turning to you and-

no

You can't do this. You have to but you can't.

You want to call for help but you have help now, if you're careless you'll just bring Archer or Circe down onto Niamh's head and as much as the thought grasps at your id and demands immediate relief you can't jeopardise everything. Your chains are biting into your arms tight enough to turn your fingers red and your breathing is getting out of control and the way she looks at you you know she can tell something's wrong, and then she opens her mouth and speaks like she isn't the reason you're like this and you can do nothing but sit there and listen.

"Are you alright? Is something wrong?" She leans forward and reaches out, you're not sure if she's trying to check for a fever or squeeze your shoulder or whatever, but it takes everything you have not to smack her hand away. You have to- to lie, you have to get yourself under control, you have to.

"I-I, just…" Talk, you idiot! "I haven't eaten yet, and I'm not...feeling very well. I just wanted to make sure I saw you like I said."

It's the kind of transparent manipulation you'd be embarrassed about if you could feel anything that wasn't nausea, but whether it's the Demi-Servant thing, the fighting in Fuyuki, or just because she's realised that you were in a hospital bed until a little while ago, Niamh doesn't look angry or upset that you're not well. For a moment she gives a blank stare, as if the idea that you're not okay is something totally novel to her, before clapping her hands up to her mouth in shock, and all you can think of is how glad you are she didn't touch you again.

"Oh! Oh dear, I'm so sorry! I didn't realise you hadn't- oh, I'd have gotten some food but I didn't think, I should.." She stops for a moment, biting her lip before sighing like she's just been told she's not allowed to play with her new toy just yet. When she speaks again you get the distinct impression that she's forcing herself, but speak she does. "...We...do have time, so...it's alright if you need to take care of yourself. You did so much yesterday, after all. Saved my life especially. We can postpone for a little while…?"

"Uh…" Hesitate, hesitate, hesitate just long enough that you can make it seem like it's an actual choice. You must look bad if it's enough to make her actually stop and think, but fuck it, you'll use it if she's going to dredge up the past and stab you with it without thinking. "...Yeah. Yeah, sorry, I just…"

"It's okay. Your health comes first, right? I don't want you too sick to spend time with me." She looks like she's been kicked in the gut, but she's at least keeping from actually bursting into tears. You don't know how you'd handle that, but you're pretty certain it wouldn't be good for either of you.

The silky stares wordlessly at you both as you exit the cottage, Niamh clinging to your arm tightly enough that it might have felt uncomfortable if your chains weren't still digging into them, if the thought of her touching you didn't already make you want to be sick all by itself. The door appears as you step forward, cutting its way into reality between one blink and the next, and a quick glance backwards confirms the cottage is hidden from view again. You move to take a step forward and Niamh doesn't let you go, and for a moment your heart leaps into your chest as the fear that she's changed her mind surges through you, but then she looks up and gives you a weak smile as she starts to speak in the kind of unsure voice you'd never imagine her capable of.

"...Come back soon, okay? I know that you've been off seeing the world since I got the Crest, but...I missed you. I missed you so, so much. So...come back soon. Please."

It's earnest and honest and open and it makes you sick to your stomach and you know she can see it, but she thinks it's all because of what happened yesterday. Seeing the world. That's what they told her? That's what she believed? They should have just told her you were dead and be done with it, but your parents were probably too afraid of upsetting their fucking faerie princess. It's all you can do to nod in response, giving her a weak smile and promising to come again soon, and then you're outside the door and the illusionary oak is creaking shut behind you and you start to walk away. You walk and you walk and you don't stop until you're out of sight and down a side-corridor and no one is around to see you collapse back against the wall and sink down against it, your chains finally loosening as you take great, heaving breaths to try calm your heart, to try settle your stomach, to try stop the shivers wracking your body.

You've got power now, you've got importance, you've got people you can call for help, and none of it mattered even a little. The door locked behind you and Niamh started to speak and you were fifteen years old again, watching your sister throw a tantrum and doing your best not to draw her attention until she calmed down. It didn't matter that you'd fought rogue magi in their seat of power before, didn't matter that you stared down their creations until they blinked, didn't even matter that you've fought Servants now and came out on top. She- she scared you. She terrified you and you hate it, hate yourself for being so weak and hate her for making you like this.

Your hand scrabbles towards a pocket that isn't there for cigarettes you don't have, and you let out a groan that comes out more like a whine. You don't know where they are anymore and right then and there it feels like the most unfair thing in the world. You sit there for some time, you're not sure how much exactly, until you hear footsteps and murmurs coming from down the hallway. Frankly you'd have preferred a few more hours, but you're not trembling anymore, and the queasiness in your stomach is at least partially due to hunger now. You can move, at the very least, and you don't want to get caught looking like you've passed out in the middle of the facility.

Moving feels good, or at least better than doing nothing. Burning off any kind of energy, any kind of motion is a distraction, and as long as you can stop thinking about those awful few minutes you spent in Niamh's room, you can get back to normalcy. The cafeteria is your goal, what with your stomach reminding you as you calm down that you haven't eaten in over twenty-four hours, and fortunately you manage to avoid most of the staff that you pass. Before long, you're entering the bustling room, and almost immediately you spot a problem.

Goemon is making some kind of scene, in that he's already hoarding a small pile of random objects beside where he's sitting. Most of it seems worthless, but even from across the room you can see the telltale glint of some kind of jewellery. In front of him are a few playing cards, some face up, others face down, and he holds two in his hands with an easy smile. You can't tell what expression the man facing him is wearing, but considering he's dealing with Goemon, it can't be pleasant.

Someone bustles past you to make a beeline for the plates and trays, and you sigh quietly.

Fucking Goemon.

[ ] Intervene. If Goemon is playing cards you're willing to bet he's cheating at cards after all that talk of stealing he gave when you summoned him, and you really don't want to let this be a lasting impression. Plus, after dealing with Niamh, it might be an opportunity to relieve some stress if you can get him somewhere private to yell at him, even if it means it'll take more time to get something to eat.

[ ] Ignore it. If he's playing cards and he's introduced himself to people like he did to you, it's their own fault for getting fleeced by him. You need food and you need it now, and besides, it's not like you're the only one who can take care of things. If it gets really bad you're sure someone will call Da Vinci or something like that.

 

[Squirtodyle]

No.

No, no no no no no.

You're not dealing with this right now, not dealing with this shithead thief fleecing the employees. If they're stupid enough to gamble with a Servant then they deserve everything that's coming to them and more, and you know that if you go to Goemon now you're likely to say or do something you'll regret. All at once there's this terrible, burning frustration inside your chest from the littlest bit of annoyance and you know that you just need to let it die. Lashing out would feel better for a moment, but you can't. Just...suck it up and let it go.

Breathe.

Goemon doesn't even look at you as you move to take a tray and grab some food and honestly, you'd prefer to keep it that way. As far as you're concerned, dealing with him can wait until tomorrow. You can feel that familiar creeping exhaustion sluggishly spreading through your body like poison even after all the time you spent unconscious, and you're pretty sure that as soon as you get a hot meal you're going to have to fight to not conk out on the spot. Of course if you did, that would mean that Goemon would probably try to steal from you, or Circe would...you're not sure, but you're not particularly enthused to imagine it, and if either of those happened then Archer would end up getting involved...

You suck in a deep breath filled with the scent of bulk-made Italian cuisine as you load up your plate with enough spaghetti and bolognese that you'd be embarrassed if you hadn't just fought your way through a hellish alternate history and hadn't eaten since before that, summoning up the will you know you'll need to ignore the siren song of a full stomach convincing you to nap. At least in your own room you'll probably be safe from anyone intruding. A few shakes of Parmesan on top and a hastily filled glass of water later, and you're marching your way towards the emptiest corner of the cafeteria you can find. Unfortunately that still means you've got a half-dozen people relatively close by, but mercifully they seem inclined to leave you alone. Whether it's your armor or your attitude, people seem to get that you don't want to be bothered.

It's a wonderful minute or two where you can just gorge yourself on your food and, well, it's damn good actually, you don't have much experience with cafeterias but Olga's clearly kept the power of a good meal in mind when it comes to morale. Part of you wants to scoff at her for the obvious manipulation, but as it happens ground beef in tomato sauce with some sharp cheese on top is a pretty good argument that sometimes manipulation is perfectly alright. You're even calming down a little after that awful visit to your sister, and as long as you grit your teeth and staunchly ignore the whoop of glee from across the room as Goemon wins another hand, it's almost nice.

You're midway through a long gulp of icy water when you hear footsteps, and a moment later a familiar face is sliding onto the bench opposite you. Da Vinci looks as flawless as she did before, not a single hair out of place or blemish marring her skin, but that's just how it is with Servants. Hell, you have to imagine that it's especially prominent for her, considering that she's quite literally a work of art. It still doesn't make it any more pleasant to have to deal with company, and you're too tired to restrain the half-glare you shoot her when she sits down.

For her part, she breezes past it like it wasn't there, turning to glance at Goemon as he gives another smug laugh and frowning. "He's...certainly quite something, isn't he?"

"He's annoying, yes. I'm not dealing with him today." You're prepared for some kind of disappointed look, maybe a lecture about how you all have to make sacrifices now. What you didn't expect is her giving you a gentle smile and a little laugh that you really wish didn't sound so nice.

"I get it. You've been through a lot over the last while, everyone has. We're all putting on a brave face, but what happened wasn't easy to deal with." You take another deep breath as Da Vinci trails off, pushing away the memory of the few hours you spent with the bastard who'd pretended to be Roman. Stupid Origin. She's looking at you a little more sympathetically now, and you'd rail against it if you weren't so wrung out already. "Edward...you and Olga are a lot alike, you know?"

That's enough to make you freeze entirely, and the withering glare you shoot at Da Vinci has her holding up her hands in a placating gesture. You're half surprised that you're able to glare at her like that considering how deeply she rattled you the first time you met, and as much as you'd like to attribute that to your newfound power putting you on a more even playing field, you're pretty sure that you're just too tired to care.

"Hear me out! I've worked with Olga for the last few years, I know how she responds to crises. She doubles down and acts like nothing is wrong and that everything just bounces off her, but it doesn't. People don't work like that, you know? She gets tired and upset and afraid like anyone else, especially after...well, after everything that happened." She looks a little more sad than you'd expect, but if she's really been around for years then it's not completely impossible she and Olga could have grown close. Just because before you'd have preferred to jump out a window than speak with a Servant for very long doesn't mean everyone shares your good sense.

"My point is that she acts like she's not human like the rest of us. And you...you walked out of your bed after Fuyuki and started working right off the bat. You didn't even sit down to eat until just now." She looks more serious now, and you're a little transfixed. You haven't known her very long, but it already seems weird to see her without a smile. "I've been trying for years to make sure Olga takes better care of herself. I'll do it for you too, if you're going to go down the same road as her. That's all."

You're...not sure how to react to that. You'd expected a lecture about how you and Olga should try get along and how you need to just suck it up and let your betters walk all over you, not for her to borderline threaten you into making sure you're not pushing yourself too hard. You're tired sure but that's not- that wasn't avoidable, not with all the fires you had to put out immediately as soon as you got up. You want to be upset, maybe to snap back that she's being pushy but it's-

It's pathetic, really. How long has it been since someone's sat you down just to tell you that they're looking out for you? And you're sucking it up like a dried sponge dunked into water. Idiot.

Her hand reaches for yours and yours twitches out of instinct, and she doesn't push it. You wish she had, and you're not sure if it's because after what she said you're dying for some kind of anchor for the words or because you're just looking for an excuse to explode at her, but she doesn't and so you're left there, sitting in silence with a woman who's told you she cares, and you sort of believe her.

But she's a Servant.

A loud guffaw from the other side of the room breaks through the awkward silence and you both turn to watch Goemon punch his fist in the air as the staff he'd been gambling with curse and reluctantly hand over whatever it was they'd bet, and apparently Da Vinci's content with your lack of response, because she gives another smile, this time confident and proud. "Oh, don't worry about that. I'll handle him."

"Uh..."

"Like I said, don't worry. I can get Olga to behave when she's in one of her moods, Goemon's gonna be a piece of cake. Just leave it to me!" She puffs up with pride as she speaks and you- honestly you just don't care enough to fight her on it if it'll get her away from you so you can stop thinking about anything awkward and just finish your meal in peace. You manage a nod and she seems satisfied, and you watch her begin to march over to Goemon's ring of gamblers for just long enough for your stomach to growl in protest of having been interrupted. The food is still good, but after what Da Vinci said you're just eating to be done eating rather than for pleasure. A few moments later you hear a yelp, and when you glance back you see that history's greatest polymath has Goemon lifted by the scruff of his neck with an enormous mechanical gauntlet providing the last few inches of height she needs to get the man aloft. It's all you can do to stare for a moment at the bizarre sight, but then she gives you a thumbs up and a smile and between that and the look of confusion on Goemon's face you can't help yourself, snorting with suppressed laughter and immediately turning away so she doesn't see.

It still felt good, though.

Spoiler: Leonardo da Vinci Information Matrix - Level EX

Class: Caster

True Name: Leonardo da Vinci

Stats:-
STR: E
END: E
AGI: C
MAG: A
LUK: B


Skills:-
Territory Creation: B
Class Skill of the Caster class, representing the capacity to create a workshop that proves bonuses towards one's mysteries and magecraft. While all of Chaldea is effectively part of Da Vinci's conceptual workshop, the majority of its benefits towards her manufacturing and inventing capacity are restricted to the laboratory Da Vinci spends most of her time in. For all other locations, Da Vinci receives a simple but significant boost to her efficiency, requiring an extremely low amount of mana to maintain her existence so long as she does not leave Chaldea.

Item Creation: B++
Class Skill of the Caster class, representing the capacity to create magical items to help allies or hinder enemies. Da Vinci is capable of creating powerful tools based on magecraft, modern technology, or a mixture of both. Due to her Polymath skill, Da Vinci possesses an incredibly broad range of potential creations, far eclipsing most other Casters.

Polymath: EX
A skill unique to Leonardo da Vinci, representing her incredibly broad range of interests, and the incredible talent she possessed in each one. Effectively a composite skill, this skill grants Da Vinci an A rank in skills based on a foundation of intellect and science, such as Astronomy, Engineering, Mathematics, Chemistry, and so forth. As she was not a magus in life, her rank in Magecraft is effectively only C and applies only to theoretical knowledge, but her time in Chaldea has given her ample practice with blending mystery with machinery.

Noble Phantasm:-

Donna Universale: Renaissance Woman (Anti-Unit (Self) - E)
Leonardo da Vinci is remembered as the greatest polymath of her time, a mind beyond compare constrained only by the technology she worked with, for her vision far surpassed what could be brought to light in her life. As a Servant in the modern day, this is no longer the case. Da Vinci's intellect has effectively sublimated into a Noble Phantasm, allowing her to learn, understand, innovate, and create at a pace and on a level that would put modern scientists and engineers to shame. Problems considered impossible are rendered merely improbable, so long as Da Vinci has enough resources to learn and experiment, and even the blending of magecraft and modern technology becomes a simple matter of course for the Universal Woman. It is through this Noble Phantasm that Chaldea has been able to grow into the facility it is today, and it is only by her continued maintenance and presence that it continues to function without threat of failure.

Your good mood, if you could call it that, lasts long enough for you to return to your room when you've finished your meal. It's only once the door hisses shut that the cheer bleeds out of you like an open wound. Last time you were here, it was with Bael after you'd seen your sister for the first time in years. That alone is enough to twist your stomach, even with the exhaustion weighing on you like a boulder, and you glance at the ashtray on the bedside table, the lighter and cigarettes beside it, and you know you're not going to be able to resist. Your armor clanks slightly as you sit on the bed, and in seconds you're inhaling the familiar scent of smoke, bringing it to your lips and waiting for that first hit of nicotine to relax you.

You wait, and you wait, and you wait, but nothing happens. The scent is comforting, sure, but you know what you should feel like and this isn't it. All it is is a bad taste in the back of your throat. You take another pull in the desperate hope that something was wrong, but already you're pretty sure you know what's happening. A few seconds of nothing happening is enough to confirm it to you, and with a low growl you viciously stub the stupid stick of chemicals out in the ashtray and leave it there. You're a Demi-Servant now, and you've got a Servant's resistance. If it takes magical poisons to do serious damage, then of course mortal poisons would just wash right over you. You want to- you want to kick something, to just let out the frustration you feel building, but there's no point to it, no point to any tantrum you could throw. Are you really going to complain that some miracle that saved your life and gave you the power to fight back stops you from poisoning yourself?

Idiot.

Forcing that bubbling red frustration down takes a few moments, especially since you're not sure if the addiction will continue even without your ability to feed it, but by the time you do you're at least cognizant of the fact that you should clean yourself up before you sleep. You don't smell like the dead and dying so at the very least they dealt with that while you were out, but now that you're not running around Chaldea fulfilling obligations and feeding yourself, you're a lot more aware of how long it's been since you've had a chance to clean yourself off. At the very least, it'll give you a chance to relax.

Your armor disappears the moment you think about it, recalling how Servants seem to summon and banish it at will, but the clothes you bring back aren't exactly in good shape. Your coat survived, mostly, but it's still singed and torn from the explosion that went off right next to you. Your shirt, shoes, and trousers are all practically destroyed, and with a long sigh you start stripping. The coat goes on the hanger attached to the wall, the rest tossed unceremoniously in the corner, and your chains coiled by the door to the bathroom. Your communicator you treat a little better, setting it down on the bedside table. A quick check at the nearby closet confirms you've got a few copies of the uniform and that's good enough for you, and as soon as you figure out how to get the water running you're stepping into the shower and groaning in satisfaction as you feel the heat seep into your body. It'd be too hot normally, but at least your new endurance is good for something. It's the least you deserve after it's robbed you of the chance to seek refuge in your smoke.

You spend the first few minutes just standing there and feeling the water pour over you before you start to properly clean yourself off, scrubbing at your body until every last scrap of dirt and smog and blood is gone. Whatever becoming a Demi-Servant did, you're relatively sure you're no more or less muscular than before, and you're certainly no less scarred. As you start to wash your hair (shampoo provided, thank the gods), you wonder if the change is only when your armor is around, but aside from the fact that you've been dousing yourself with boiling hot water for the past few minutes poking a hole in that theory, you're not nearly stupid enough to armor up while you're in the shower. At worst you'd end up slipping and crashing and making a bunch of noise, and if you alerted Circe or Archer or gods forbid Niamh-

The door to your room hisses open.

Your body floods with magical energy as you burst out of the room, your awareness connecting to your chains as they snap to life and wind around your arm, your fingers curling around the familiar weight of the blade at the end as you point it towards the intruder. Already you're berating yourself for having forgotten to lock the damn thing, a snarl coming to your lips directed towards-

"Fou!"

Fou?

The little catdog thing is sitting there in front of your door as it hisses closed, staring up at you like you're the one intruding. A moment passes and he raises his paw to lick at the back of it, and you make a noise that you're not certain humans should be able to make, something like if you crossed a groan with a steam-train's whistle.

"H-How did you-"

"Fou."

Your chains slide from your arms back to the floor as you march over to the door and slam the lock button, trying not to be embarrassed about being naked in front of the team pet. He wasn't a familiar, was he? No, he couldn't be. Matthew would have said, right? Just because he's smart doesn't mean someone's using him to watch you. Right?

"...I'm finishing my shower."

Fou doesn't react beyond tilting his head, and even with the ironclad logic protecting you from embarrassment you slip back into the shower a little faster than a composed man might have, making sure to grab some underwear at the very least for when you're done. You finish up quickly after that, drying yourself and clothing yourself at least enough to preserve your modesty, and you bring the towel with you to clean the water from the floor. Fou's moved onto your bed, and to his credit, he at least focuses on grooming himself on top of your sheets as you find the provided pajamas and pull them on. Not exactly your preference, but even though you're sure he's not a familiar...

Well, it can't hurt. And the clothes are comfy.

"You're a little bastard, you know that?" You grumble as you nudge Fou out of the very center of your bed, flicking the lightswitch after you've dumped your chains onto the bedside table. The sudden darkness provokes a squeaky "Fou!" from your uninvited guest, and you can just make out the shape of the fuzzy intruder before he plops himself down on your chest once you're lying down. You'd expected it to be a bit more uncomfortable, but it's...well, it's kind of nice. You reach down to scratch behind his ears and you're rewarded with a sleepy repetition of his name, and it's almost like a trigger for your own exhaustion to come crashing down on you. You're warm, clean, comfortable, fed, and so, so tired.

Sleep comes like a kiss in the night, and you're only too happy to succumb.

----------
​

A beeping from your bedside wakes you from whatever formless, shapeless dream you were having, and you blearily scrabble to nab the source. It's your communicator, and as soon as you blink away the fuzzy vision from having just woken up, you're able to see the message hovering over the device: "Command Room, 10 AM. Bring Servants." From Olga, naturally.

Another quick glance at the corner of the projected screen tells you it's 8 on the dot, so that gives you time. You'd be a little more annoyed about the wake-up call if you didn't feel so rested, but as is you feel pretty good. A stretch and a yawn is enough to wipe away most of your grogginess, and you glance down to watch last night's intruder give a wide yawn of his own before he turns to you and gives an expectant yip. You realise you're smiling a little as you reach out to pet him, but you'll give yourself that, at least.

It takes you a little longer than normal to get dressed considering Chaldea's uniforms aren't at all built to be able to hide your chains and you can't pretend it's mail while you're out of your armor, but fortunately you at least have more than one uniform in your closet, and a few are a little bigger than you'd usually need. With your chains secured around you and a moment taken to make sure it doesn't look too off, you head out of the room with an hour and a half to spare, and a passenger wrapped around your neck as he dozes off again. He manages to keep sleeping even as you dip into the cafeteria to grab a quick breakfast, but you still don't linger. It's only when you're munching away on a croissant in the hallway that you realise you've got a little over an hour to kill before the meeting.

Well, you've certainly got options, at least.

[ ] Find out where Archer is and have a chat with her. She seemed shaken yesterday from something as simple as not rooming near you, and everything before that has given you some concerning vibes. If you can tease out just why she's so obsessed with proving herself to you, it'd be much more helpful going forward.

[ ] See if you can figure out where Circe is. You're reasonably sure she won't have moved from her room while setting up her workshop, and you'll have to call her anyway for whatever Olga's got in mind. You've no particular reason to need to speak with her, but if you're being honest, you're starting to just flat out enjoy her company. Dangerous, sure, but you can indulge yourself a little, right?

[ ] Grit your teeth and find out what happened to Goemon. You can still feel that thread at the back of your mind that connects you to him, so he's certainly still around. Getting to chat with him and lay down some ground rules would probably be healthy for the both of you, in that it'll stop your inevitable attempt at strangling him.

[ ] Figure something else out. Chaldea's got plenty to offer for leisure, and you're pretty sure a little time at the gym wouldn't go amiss. Sure, you won't get an opportunity to talk with your Servants, but that might be for the best. You'll probably be more relaxed going into the meeting, at least.

 

[Squirtodyle]

Circe's probably fine and you're not really in the mood for her playful act right before this meeting, and with any luck Goemon's still dealing with whatever punishment Da Vinci dreamed up for him. That only leaves your first and strangest Servant, who refuses to tell you her name like it's some kind of regular Grail War. She's Japanese, you're sure about that, and she's some kind of oni. Besides that, how much do you really know? She's got some kind of problem with her identity, but that doesn't narrow things down. Shuten-douji comes to mind, but you dismiss it just as quickly. Shapeshifter or not, you can't imagine them putting on an act for this long from everything you've heard, and if you're being honest the name only came to mind because they're the most famous oni you know.

No, you're not going to be able to puzzle this out yourself. You'll need to talk with her to figure it out, and...well, you need to talk with her anyway. It's clear she values your safety more than normal for a Master and Servant, but from now on these are going to be controlled missions, not a desperate Hail Mary to try and snatch salvation from disaster. You need to make sure she can play nice with the others.

Like you do with Niamh?

You strangle that bitter, mocking thought before it can take purchase and sigh, starting to walk down the hallway as you finish off the last of your pastry. You're able to enjoy the scent of buttery breakfast for a few moments more before the sterile non-scent of Chaldea re-asserts itself, and as soon as it does you make the decision. Reaching out with your mind isn't anything new for a magus, but it's still strange to feel those little threads tied to your soul and nudge at them until you can speak regardless of the distance.

<"Archer, where are you? I want to talk for a bit-">

"Of course, Master."

It's only the complete lack of response from your supernatural Instinct that calms your regular instincts down enough that you don't whirl on Archer with your chains out when she materializes a respectful distance behind you. To her credit, she at least seems to notice that you're less than pleased with the shock judging by how she immediately bows her head, but the damage has already been done. Fou gives an indignant cry before leaping down from your neck, then turning his nose up and padding away. It honestly stung a little more than you'd expected.

"Forgive me. I didn't mean to startle you." She spoke after a few moments of bowing, and you force down the sigh that she'd no doubt take badly.

"Were you following me?" You hadn't noticed, but then again you hadn't exactly been expecting it. You'd thought she'd be in her room, not right there.

She waits for a moment before looking up, her head tilting a tiny bit in confusion before she stops, as if catching herself before she could finish the gesture.

"Of course. When I saw you leaving your room, I came with you. I am your Servant." She's composed, but you can already see the cogs turning in her head while she speaks, and you have to cut her off before she can begin the apology you know is coming. You don't want her upset before you even start talking.

"Right, right, yeah. Just...going forward, if you want to walk with me, you can do it out of spiritual form, alright? It's easier for everyone if we can see you." She nods slightly, and you think you can see the ghost of a smile in the twitch of her mouth, but an instant later it's gone and she's back to that same docile mask she wears when she's not agitated. You've seen that mask twisted into a furious roar, rivulets of black blood spilling from her lips as her ears bleed from self-inflicted wounds, just so she could keep fighting better. It's unsettling, knowing just how much of an act it could be.

"Anyway, I...mm." You glance around quickly, but the corridor is empty and you can't hear anything except the omnipresent vague hum of running machinery somewhere around you. It feels awkward to talk with her outside of somewhere private, but you've got a feeling that if you asked her to wait until you were back in either your room or hers, the anxiety would have her shaking herself apart before you opened the door. You only barely hold back the sigh when you turn to face her again and start speaking.

"Okay, Archer...I'm not upset with you, alright? You've done everything perfectly so far. I wouldn't be alive if you hadn't saved me." It's a truth that's as disconcerting to admit the second time as it was the first. Relying on your own Servants is still a strange feeling. "I just wanted to ask you...why are you so worried about what I think?"

She freezes like you'd just struck her, and you have to hold back a wince. For all she's able to keep a straight face most of the time, it's painfully obvious when something sneaks past it. Even her voice is a little shakier than it was when she responds, though she does make certain to look you in the eye.

Had she blinked since you started speaking? You're not sure.

"I am your Servant and I wish to prove myself to you without bias, Master." It's robotic almost, rote recitation that she may as well have practiced in her head a hundred times before. It's a deflection without explanation, and as much as you understand how uncomfortable it can be to talk about this, you've got the fate of the world on your shoulders. You can't let this be a problem.

"Archer...if you've done something in your past, then it's..." Fine? Is it really? It has to be, in this situation. And it's not like you're any better. Doesn't she deserve to know that? Does she, if she won't tell you?

You kind of hate having to ask these questions. You've worked alone long enough that you're no good at them, if you ever were in the first place.

"I'm not perfect either, Archer." You speak again, sighing softly and privately hoping whatever surveillance is going on can't hear you. "I'm an Enforcer. A bounty hunter....I've killed people before too. If it's something like that-"

"Master." Archer's sharp tone makes you trail off, but the look on her face borders distraught for a moment before she gets it back under control. "I'm sor- ah...I apologise, Master, for speaking in such a way. I just wanted...may I speak, Master?"

It's almost painful to watch her struggling to balance her discomfort with her unnatural deference. You're not sure what else you can do besides wordlessly nod, and even then she hesitates for a moment, biting her lip just long enough for you to see a flash of her pale white fangs before she catches herself.

"Killing is the way of the world for warriors, Master. That you hunt those worthy of being hunted doesn't matter to me. I...I simply wish to prove myself to you. I strive for perfection and I always have, I swear it. That is all."

It's infuriatingly vague, but you can't let it show. She hasn't done anything wrong, as far as she's willing to admit, but she's cavalier about killing when it's someone "worthy" so...what? You can't figure it out and you're not willing to push any harder after her reaction, but that doesn't stop you feeling frustrated. You got a little more insight and that's all you're going to get for the moment.

"Okay. Just..." You roll the words around in your head for a few moments, trying to figure out how to phrase things to be constructive without being cruel. "I appreciate it, Archer, but just remember that you need to focus on the mission, not on me. Alright?"

"Ah. Yes, of course." She sounds far more certain than she looks, but it'll have to do. "Is there anything else you require of me, Master?"

You almost reply before you remember exactly what she was doing before you called for her. "...Will you just go back to following me if I say no?"

"Of course." She almost seems confused by the question, and it's all you can do to sigh in response.

"Then...go find Circe, please. Goemon too, if you can. We've got a meeting in less than an hour."

"Of course, Master." She gives you another bow before disappearing, and you wait a few seconds to make sure she's gone before you close your eyes and lean against the wall for a few seconds. You'd hoped that Archer would explain herself after Fuyuki, but whatever she felt "proving herself" was, she clearly wasn't satisfied with herself yet. Once again, the thought of ordering her flits through your mind, and you smother it before it can gain any purchase. Binding someone's will is a slippery slope you're not going to go down anytime soon if you can help it, not when you've got your chains wrapped around you right now. Besides, if Olga or the others realised that your Mystic Code's curse could go far deeper than just the body, you're fairly sure they'd insist on taking it away from you unless you were in the field, and you're not letting that happen. The metal links tighten around you just a bit, and the sensation calms you down a little. Becoming a Demi-Servant might have killed one comfort you had, but at least you've still got this one, pathetic it may be. You always feel more comfortable when you've got your Code at hand.

For a few moments you just stay there, trying not to think about how you'll balance Archer, Circe, and now Goemon too, but you can't keep it up forever. If nothing else, Archer might end up finding them too soon and coming back, and you could do with something to focus your mind that isn't the oni who's terrified of upsetting you in any way. Niamh was never one for being early, so the meeting is the best bet.

It doesn't take long to reach the command room and you don't run into Goemon hustling staff on the way, so you'll take that as a victory. There are no guards, but you notice the cameras positioned around the hallway to make sure that there's not a single blind spot, and when you reach out to tap the panel that opens the door, you catch a faint smell of ozone when your finger makes contact, along with a little tingle in your hand. You almost take the time to consider what kind of defenses you could make if you had Leonardo da Vinci as a Servant, before you decide that you really don't want to imagine them if you can help it. At the very least, smell or no smell, they didn't activate on you. The doors hiss open as soon as you withdraw your hand, and you finally get your first look at the command room.

The first thing you notice is the massive window directly across from you, as wide and tall as the room itself and overlooking the gentle blue glow of CHALDEAS itself. There are stairs to the right and left down to the base of the window, connecting the three separate tiers of workstations. Long metal wedges packed with holographic screens and dashboards fill each tier, most of the workstations seating workers that don't even acknowledge the door opening. Out of curiosity you squint down at one of the screens, but you've overestimated yourself a little. Being a Demi-Servant might have enhanced your vision, but that doesn't actually mean you can parse the graphs and rows of text and diagrams that are flying up without cease.

Directly across from you on the same level is a larger workstation with a bigger chair, so you can only assume that's where Olga's meant to be, and between you and it is some sort of machine, made out of the same grey steel as the room's floor and walls. It raises up to about your waist, and the flat surface is covered in some kind of screen made of thousands of crisscrossing black squares. There's a panel on the opposite side that you can only assume is meant to control it, but beyond that there's nothing else going on. Olga isn't there yet, which had been your whole reason for coming here, so...

The door hisses behind you and for a moment your heart leaps into your chest, but instead of intense red you see a flash of soft lavender, followed by a familiar, smiling face.

"Hey, Edward. You're here early." Matthew's wearing a white coat over the same uniform as the others, a light teal shirt with black sleeves and teal cuffs and some white slacks, and you have to admit it suits him. He takes a moment to set his coffee down on one of the flat parts of probably-Olga's desk, before walking back to stand by you. "Making a good impression?"

"Something like that." It's hard not to meet his smile with one of your own, and you end up giving him a flicker of one before you force yourself back to business mode. Just because he's charming doesn't mean that you can let yourself relax. "Woke up early enough that I didn't have much to do, so I figured I might show up early. Why are you...?"

"Honestly, I don't really know myself. It's not like I'm in charge of the ward or anything. Da Vinci just sent me a message earlier. I guess I was the one who examined you after you got back, but..." He shrugs, but it doesn't seem like it's bothering him too much. "Well, anyway, it's good to see you! Did you sleep alright?"

You're drawn into the conversation despite yourself, and as much as every hesitation and less-than-enthusiastic response you give makes you certain he'll take the hint and be quiet, nothing seems to stop him. He's like a relentless train of positivity, bowling over any halfhearted attempt to cut off the conversation, and you don't...hate it. On some level, you know it's forced, it has to be after what happened with R- with Bael. You don't just shrug off your surrogate father turning out to be a demon who's trying to destroy all of human history. But he's still smiling and still joking around and still drawing out responses from you, even though you're sure it must feel like squeezing water out of a stone for him. You should be discussing the mission, but instead you're just talking like you're regular co-workers, not two of, potentially, the last remaining humans in existence.

He's halfway through a story about teaching some of the younger employees from the magus side of things about Exalted when the distinctive hiss of the door interrupts him, and you turn in unison to see Olga and Da Vinci walking into the room together. Olga gives you a short, sharp nod before stepping around you, her heels clicking against the floor, but Da Vinci instead stops and claps her hands together in front of the both of you before starting to speak.

"Ah, I'm glad you two are getting along well! Thanks for coming, Matthew. I hope I didn't pull you away from anything too pressing?" Her smile is as dazzling as ever, but at the very least now that you've got an audience not glued to their screens you're a little better able to keep hold of your composure.

"Oh, no, everything's basically under control at this point now that the Coffins are stable, we got lucky in terms of injuries to everyone else." It's the first time you've heard him speak about work for the day, and to his credit he doesn't let it affect him, at least visibly. At the very least, it's good to hear that things weren't as bad as they could have been.

"Excellent! I wish we had some time to do an examination for you, Edward, but unfortunately things are a bit busier than we'd thought. At least you two had some time to chat?" She gives you another brilliant smile, and you blink. She wouldn't have brought Matthew there just for your benefit, would she? That's...you're a little insulted, honestly, but it's not like you hated the conversation...

"Leo. Come on, we need to get to work." You can't help but shoot an incredulous look towards Olga at hearing her use a nickname of all things, but she doesn't react. "Dempsey, Servants. Kyrielight, get your coffee off of my desk."

Matthew's face turns about as pink as his hair as he remembers where he left his drink, and he bolts around the machine in the center of the floor to take it away. You watch his face fall as he raises it to his lips and realises it's gone stone cold during your conversation, and it's only Da Vinci's presence in the corner of your vision that stops you from smiling. He still catches your impressively impassive face and damn near pouts, and you allow yourself a moment to enjoy the sight before casting your awareness outwards, feeling out for those threads at the corner of your mind that tie you to your Servants. You're not sure exactly how it works and you're still kind of floundering, but at the very least-

"Finally. You know, for going around calling yourself "Master" you really don't do much, you know?"

You're moving before you can stop yourself, your fist cutting through the air fast enough that you can hear a whistle, and you get a split-second view of Goemon's eyes widening before he sways out of the way.

Both of you freeze before Matthew can even finish his yelp, and you slowly pull back your arm and fix him with a withering glare that seems to sail right over his head for all the good it does.

"What? C'mon, take a joke. It's not my fault you didn't notice me."

You're almost ready to explode at him before Da Vinci steps between you, smiling like she's got a knife behind her back and she's ready to slide it between Goemon's ribs at any second. "No pranks in the command room, Goemon. Or do you want to help me on clean-up duty again for the rest of your time in Chaldea?"

You wouldn't have thought the threat would work but Goemon's smirk falters a bit, and he gives a theatrical sigh before stepping back and folding his arms. "Fine, fine...no one here has any idea how to be funny."

"Shut up." You're nowhere near in mood to deal with him grumbling, but at the very least, you're certain about his class now. It's one thing for you to miss it, but for all the sensors in the command room and another Servant to miss it too? That's Presence Concealment, without a doubt.

Spoiler: Goemon: Bond Level 0

Class: Assassin

True Name: Ishikawa Goemon

Stats:-
STR: D
END: B+
AGI: B
MAG: E
LUK: C

Skills:-

Presence Concealment: A
Class Skill of the Assassin class, allowing the wielder in question to hide their presence as a Servant, increasing their ability to perform clandestine operations such as espionage and assassination. At this Rank, Assassin is capable of near-completely erasing his presence while disappearing entirely from view, though this Skill drops severely in rank once an attack is launched. Assassin was formally trained as a ninja, a master of stealth and concealment, and made use of that training throughout his life to engage in many successful instances of thievery. It is even said he was only able to be detected during an assassination attempt by a mystical incense burner.

Further details are hidden.

Circe and Archer materialize a few moments later once you've reached out to them, and you spend a moment reassuring Archer that she doesn't need to apologise for missing an Assassin. Circe, blessedly, seems to pick up on the fact that this is important, because all she does is smile at you with a nod before reclining back and sitting down in midair, her staff hovering beside her. A stray glance at your communicator tells you that you're just a few seconds away from 10 AM, and the instant the numbers shift, the door hisses open once again. The sight of your sister still makes your stomach twist like there's a ghostly hand squeezing it, but at the very least Olga steps forward to interrupt before Niamh can do more than beam at you.

The surface of the machine bursts alight, and after a moment the fuzzy lighting sharpens into an image. It's a larger hologram than for the screens used below, and after a moment the perfect sphere shimmers and turns from a blank slate into a globe. Da Vinci taps at it again as Olga returns to stand beside her, and the globe turns to display a glowing red spot, right in the center of France. The image zooms and distorts, shifting to a flat plane that's displaying a map of the country, the blinking red light labelled this time.

Rouen.

"We've known the general physical location of the second Singularity for about a month now. Fuyuki and France were both easy enough to map out, but as far as we can tell they're interfering with each other. We only managed to nail down the calculations and co-ordinates for this one after the Fuyuki Singularity collapsed completely." Olga's the picture of professionalism, and now that things are down to business so are you. Matthew's still there, but he's tapping away at his tablet and you can't pay any more attention to him than that. "We managed to complete a perfect formula for Rayshifting to this location last night, which means we also know when it takes place, as well as the general location of the Holy Grail being used to anchor it. SHEBA was also able to capture a few images before the interference got too bad."

The map shrinks into the corner of the display, and a handful of images take its place. You've been to France before, but none of what you've seen looks remotely similar. There's a forest with trees that seem to be growing a hundred feet or more into the air, drowning the space below them in darkness. There's a shot of mangled bodies, bloody furrows torn by claws and teeth with dark fur mixed in with the blood. Finally, a shot of some kind of enormous pyre, blazing in the middle of an empty plain. For some reason, it makes you shiver to look at it.

"We've narrowed down the date. It's the first of June, 1431. Given that, and the fact that the Holy Grail appears to be in Rouen, we're working under the assumption that whatever alternate history is being used for this Singularity, it has something to do with Jeanne d'Arc." The images of the Singularity fade away and return to the map, before the lights return to full brightness and the hologram disappears. Olga looks you in the eye with her hands on her hips, and you meet her gaze evenly. "Have you had experience with this Heroic Spirit before?"

"No. We had scattered reports of a War in Romania where she appeared as a Ruler, but the Association magi involved were killed and we couldn't verify it. By the time the Enforcers arrived, the Grail had vanished."

"Damn. Alright. Leo, handle the briefing. Kyrielight, I want you running the diagnostics on Dempsey's Klein Coffin. Díomasaigh, get yourself ready to move out. Everyone else, begin preparations for Rayshifting to the Second Singularity! I want us to be ready half an hour ago!" No one replies, but by the way the low buzz of work intensifies at her orders, they're clearly obeying. Niamh, on the other hand, steps forward towards you.

"Oh, Edward! I didn't realise you'd be here early, I was looking for you! It's kind of exciting, don't you think?" She's wearing the same uniform you are, with the single difference being that instead of black trousers she's got black skirt and tights. Archer hasn't summoned her bow yet, but you can feel the way she winds herself tighter as Niamh gets closer. "How're you feeling?"

You're saved from having to quickly put on the act you did yesterday by the sound of Olga's clicking heels, and before either of you can say another word she's reached out to grab Niamh's chin with her thumb and forefinger, turning her head as she blinks in confusion to meet Olga's withering glare.

"Díomasaigh. I said get ready. That was not a suggestion."

Goddamn, but it feels good watching it happen to someone else.

Niamh pulls away from Olga and sputters, staring at the slightly shorter woman in disbelief before raising a hand to her chin. She doesn't respond, turning to glance at you for a moment, and you chance a nod, hoping your expression isn't as amused as you feel. She swallows and turns back to Olga, finally seeming to regain some measure of composure as she tilts her head up and speaks. "Fine. But do not touch me again, or-"

"Leo, escort her out, please."

Niamh gives a quick noise of surprise as she notices Da Vinci standing beside her, offering her a beatific smile, and finally gets the hint. She looks distinctly miserable as she leaves, casting a glance back at you, and you can't hold back the sigh of relief you give. Olga's already back to her console so you don't have to force yourself to acknowledge her help, but Da Vinci...she knew, you're sure of it, and you're speaking before you can stop.

"I, uh...thanks."

"Don't mention it. Remember, we look out for each other here!" She gives you one last smile before it's back to business, turning to your Servants and addressing them for the first time. "Any thoughts, you three? Anything familiar stood out?"

"Nothing. I am ready to begin whenever my Master is." Archer's the first to reply, unsurprisingly, though her voice has a little more bite to it than normal. You can't blame her, considering Niamh.

"Woods looked nasty. Definitely something mean hiding in them, but if you're asking the Japanese hero if he noticed anything about France...?" Circe rolls her eyes at Goemon's comment, before raising her hand to her chin thoughtfully.

"Hmm...that pyre was definitely not normal. I could tell just by looking at it. If I had to guess...it's some heavy duty magecraft. I'd need to see it in person to be sure about anything else." Da Vinci nods, turning to face you before speaking again.

"Alright. I'll be blunt, the only area we could establish a Rayshift with 100% success was in those woods. They're a little east of Orléans, so it'll be a trip from there to Rouen, but you should be fine. Unfortunately...Niamh isn't trained for combat the same way you were. She can handle herself, but we're not certain about dropping her directly into an active combat situation, if it turns out to be one. Basically...we want your opinion, since you're the one who'll be handling things down there. Either she can Rayshift with you now, or we'll send her in a second Rayshift once you've established a connection to the Leylines outside of the forest. It's your call."

You can't stop the bitter thought that there's no option to leave her behind entirely from flitting through your mind.

[ ] Bring her with you from the start. As much as you hate her, you need all hands on deck for this, and you know better than anyone how powerful Niamh can be. With less civilization to deal with and having traveled back a couple centuries, her magecraft and her unique qualities will be more potent than ever before. Sure, it'll be dangerous to drop into an unknown, potentially dangerous forest that could be filled with monsters, but at the end of the day with four Servants she should be fine. It'd also avoid any problems from leaving her behind at first, and much as you'll refuse to admit it to anyone else, you'd rather keep her happy than risk her wrath.

[ ] Wait until you're connected to a Leyline. She'll balk at being left behind, and it'd definitely sour her relationship with the rest of Chaldea, but at the end of the day it's common sense. You need everyone you can get after the bombings, and as powerful as she is she's just not a combat magus. All it'd take is someone managing to get past her familiars and she'd be dead, and that's more likely to happen if she drops into those woods. The thought isn't exactly something you hate, not after that awful visit yesterday, but this is bigger than you. You'll just deal with the consequences as they come, and Olga will have to as well.

 

[Squirtodyle]

You're tempted. You're so, so tempted.

You can justify leaving her behind for a little, no one would blame you. Even she probably wouldn't so long as you said you did it to keep her safe, and that's if Da Vinci let her know it was your choice in the first place. It's enough to make you pause for a moment, the words on the tip of your tongue. But you knew what your answer would be from the start, and even with all the excuses you could give, you know you're not going to give any of them. Your sister isn't a fighter, but you are, and she's phenomenally powerful for a modern magus. She's practically a doorway to the past all by herself, and you can only imagine that dropping her back about six hundred years is only going to make her even better. A Servant might be able to defeat her and her familiars, but she'll have four Servants backing her up, including one who's practically prescient when it comes to defending others.

This is bigger than you and your grudges, your hatred.

Your fears.

"We'll take her with us from the start." The words come from you like drawing blood from a stone, but they come all the same. You can practically feel Circe's curious glance at you from aside, but you pay it no mind. "We'll keep her safe, and she can't do much to help from here. We can't afford to go in half-cocked."

"Alright." You were almost expecting her to push the decision, but all she does is give a sharp nod. All business, then. "Your uniforms come equipped with translation charms, but since you've got your armor I modified your communicator while you were recovering from the Fuyuki Singularity. It should be much more durable now, just in case, and it's got its own translation charms too. Ideally you'll just pick up the knowledge from the Throne like other Servants, but better safe than sorry. Head down to CHALDEAS and I'll be right there."

She takes off as soon as you nod, and as soon as she's turned away from you Circe flits into view, floating up at eye level and tilting her head. "You're sure about this, piglet? I mean...you certainly don't seem happy."

"Doesn't matter. It's just easier this way for everyone, and it'll give us a better chance at actually fixing things. She can handle herself." She doesn't look convinced, one eyebrow arching up sharply, but after a moment she shrugs.

"Well, if you say so. Just say the word and I'll make sure she doesn't bother you." Her expression shifts to playful as she speaks, and all of a sudden you're acutely aware of how Dangerous that look is, now that she's so close and level with you. Is Archer going to pull her bow on Circe? You want to check, but it's kind of hard to look away. "Personally, I think you only need one witch around taking up your time, piglet."

Goemon's loud snort spares you from having to respond to that, and you both turn to look at him as he grins at you, twirling his pipe in his fingers. Archer's frowning at him, but at the very least no weapons are coming out. "Oh, come on. You can do better. I mean, sure he's cute but he's got a stick up his ass. Now, me on the other hand..."

You suck in a breath to cut off the conversation before it can begin, glancing over towards Olga to make sure she hadn't noticed you were still there yet. Her face is still buried in the screens, so you're safe for now, but you're not pushing it. "Goemon, shut up. We're on the clock. All of you in spiritual form, now."

Archer vanishes the moment you say it, while Circe gives you a pout first. Goemon stays for another few seconds and you meet his gaze until finally he smirks and disappears like the other two, and you can get a move on. It's not far from the command room to CHALDEAS, and you barely pass anyone along the way this time. The few you do give a nod, but otherwise focus on getting where they're going, and you honestly can't blame them. Fuyuki was meant to be the trial run, the first attempt, and it ended up being a disaster. This time, the ball is in Chaldea's court. No one wanted to fumble it. You can appreciate that, especially when they're going to be directly working on keeping you alive as you time travel.

There's a weight to it, when you walk into the enormous room. CHALDEAS revolves slowly, the enormous replica-soul of the planet and all the measuring instruments around it thrumming softly. It's like a vibration that's resonating inside your body, your spirit, so much more than just noise. You didn't notice it before because of the fires, but now with everything under control it's impossible to miss. Despite it all, the magus part of you can't help but be awed by the creation. You could never have dreamed of something so incredible.

Matthew stands over to the side, an empty metal coffin shaped like a cylinder standing upright beside him, and you start to make your way over to it. Every step you take is above one of the sealed metal openings that dot the room, above one of the coffins that hold the frozen Masters that weren't as lucky as you or Niamh. For a moment, you imagine what it'd be like to be trapped in there, your last moments of awareness filled with pain and fire before icy cold dragged you to sleep, and you shudder a little just before you reach him.

"...Hey, Ed. It'll be fine, I promise." His gentle voice pulls your attention back to him, and you smile before you can help yourself. Whether he trained to get that kind of reassuring aura or it's just natural, you appreciate it all the same. "I've triple-checked everything on both of the working Klein Coffins, and so has Da Vinci. The formulas are perfect, and we've got a team of two dozen working observation constantly. Bet you it'll be a walk in the park compared to Fuyuki!"

"Hah. Yeah, I hope so." You don't look at him, instead staring into the interior of the Coffin. It looks about as comfortable as a metal tube just wide enough for a person to stand in can be, and after a moment's hesitation you close your eyes and reach down into your soul, searching for the power you've been gifted. Despite your lack of practice, it feels as natural as breathing, the power flowing outwards and coalescing into your armor. A quick check confirms that your chains and communicator are exactly where they were before, and before you can let your worries gnaw at you any more you step up and turn, leaning back against the Coffin with your arms at your side.

"You'll be fine. We're starting the preliminary checks now, so just relax and think about something nice, like how you thought I was twelve or something." You're barely able to stop yourself from laughing, though you still snort with amusement, and even if Matthew's off to the side now you can just imagine the grin on his face. The hiss of the central door opening draws your eyes to Da Vinci and Niamh, and thankfully all Niamh does is glance over to you for a few moments before making her way over to the other open Coffin.

"Attention Chaldea. We're making preparations to begin the Rayshift in t-minus two minutes." Olga's voice rings out crystal clear through the PA system, and you close your eyes and listen while you wait. "This will be our first official expedition into the past. Our destination is France, 1431. What we are undertaking is greater than anything any magus has ever done before. We will not allow anything to stop us. This is an official declaration of Chaldea's Grand Order: to restore human history!"

It's a good speech, but she had a lot of leeway to work with. It's easy to impart a sense of purpose when you're fighting for everything that's ever lived. You tune your ears to the noises around you as the countdown reaches closer and closer to the end, the humming of CHALDEAS, the tapping of fingers on panels, the hiss of the door opening once again.

"Good luck." Matthew's voice.

You can hear the lid of your Coffin starting to close, not long now until you find out what it feels like to-

"Fou!"

Something warm and fuzzy lands right on your stomach, and you have just enough time to glance down at Fou's innocent looking face as he clings to your armor before the lid seals shut.

"Unsummon Program Start. Beginning Spiritron Conversion. Executing Rayshift."

----------​

You hear voices.

You did it.

You're not sure if you should be hearing them.

I always had faith.

Maybe this is all just a dream, something your mind conjured up during the transfer. Or maybe someone slipped up, and you're listening to someone who didn't expect it.

I'm proud of you, but there's more to come. So much more. I wish I could help you.

Who's to say? Not me. But listen close anyway. Isn't it fun to hear your critics admit defeat?

It's hard for me to speak even now. Like swimming through tar.

He hasn't proven himself yet. Bael let him live.

I know you can do this, Edward.

Oh, don't be like that. He impressed you too, you know he did.

All of my power belongs to you now. You just need to call on it.

Mmh. He'll do. He'll have to.

I hope you remember this, if nothing else.

He will. But we chose well. All of us did.

We chose well. I know it. Be brave.

Spoiler

???'s Bond Level has increased. New information is available.

----------
​

You're only just opening your eyes and the dream is slipping away from you like sand through fingers, and it's all you can do to grasp at what little you can recall. Voices, you remember voices, and...something. Something about power? It's fading no matter how hard you try, and as soon as you take your first breath it's gone, drowned under the scent of the forest around you, rain on leaves, wet bark, even the musty earth all around you. It's such a shock to your senses after Chaldea's sterile air and Fuyuki's smog that you almost freeze, before you breathe out and take another breath, slower this time, savoring the scent of life all around you. It hasn't even been a week since you left for Chaldea and you'd already half forgotten what it felt like to be somewhere real.

The spell can't last forever, even with your longing fueling it. You start to notice the imperfections almost immediately. The first one, glaringly obvious, is that Niamh is slowly coming to over by your left. You're not sure if it's the fact that you're a Demi-Servant that's letting you adjust so quickly, but she looks like she's waking up after a long night of drinking. Besides her, though, there's more to it. The trees are taller, thicker than they should be, and their leaves are darker too. You had figured you'd be sent in during the day, but the light just can't properly penetrate the foliage, throwing the entire place into some facsimile of dusk. There's no rustling around you from animals vanishing from the sudden appearance of two travelers, no chirping in the branches above you, no cracked twigs or gnawed-on bushes or anything that might suggest that this forest was inhabited. You knew something would be off from the start, but this is more unsettling than you'd imagined.

"Mmmh...Edward? Do you feel that...?" Niamh's dreamy voice cuts through your thoughts, and you turn to see her pushing herself to her feet with a smile on her face. Despite her question she seems to have forgotten you moments later, spreading her arms wide and giggling softly. tYou're not under attack and you don't sense anything just yet, so you'll take the chance to ignore her a little longer. You need to make sure that your Servants made it with you alright, along with-

"Fou!"

The familiar rushes forward from under the cover of a nearby bush and leaps up onto you, skillfully scrambling up your arm and taking his place on your shoulder, and you sigh. You hadn't at all intended to be babysitting Chaldea's mascot and you're not particularly pleased about it, but he's here now and you'll just have to deal with it. You'd like to think your decision-making isn't being impacted by the way he's rubbing his cheek against yours and purring softly.

"Hhhdamn it. Fine, just this once." You barely have to stretch your mental connection at all before your Servants start to materialize, and now that you're outside of Chaldea you can feel the way it strains your circuits. Just a little, not enough to be worrying, but it definitely feels like you're adding weight to the bars. Contracting with every Servant you see isn't going to be possible, then.

Archer appears first, bow drawn and violet eyes flickering this way and that, followed by Circe and then Goemon. Your witch is looking around too, kneeling and pulling up some of the dirt underfoot to look at it closely, while Goemon has his eyes fixed on Niamh with a lazy smirk. You fight down the flash of annoyance as he watches her flick through her notebook with the kind of glee usually reserved for kids finding presents under the tree and instead meet Circe's eye as she looks up at you, speaking before you have a chance to even ask.

"Bounded Field, no doubt about it. I don't think it's meant to keep people in, but there's something weird going on." Her eyes are drawn to Niamh and her lips flick upwards in a small smirk for a moment. "More than her. Her faerie blood acting up?"

"Mmh. She's a living reversion, makes magecraft act like it's from years ago just by being around it. Stronger outside of civilization, must be hard to handle in a forest from six hundred years ago." You're not in the mood to talk any more about it and Circe at least gets the memo, but that just gives Goemon a chance to pipe up.

"Faerie, huh? Never stole from a youkai before, but her..." You suck in a breath to reprimand him, before Archer finally speaks, her eyes focused on something in the distance.

"Quiet." Her voice is a low, quiet hiss, and instantly you cut yourself off. Fou's stopped moving beside you too, and a quick glance confirms he's staring in the direction that Archer is. As much as you strain your eyes, you can't see through the gloom, and you can't hear anything either. A tense moment passes in silence, another with a quick breath to ready yourself. Nothing.

Shadowy fur blitzes into view in front of you and your shield is in your hand in an instant, twisting to put yourself in front of Archer before whatever attacked you can reach her. You hear snarling and feel something slamming into your shield again and again before it pulls back, and you catch a flash of something like a wolf before it vanishes into the gloom. Niamh's yelping but she's not under attack and she's moving closer and that's as best you can do, because you only have an instant before you hear another snarl from behind you. Once more, your eyes strain against the darkness as you whirl, but your Servants are ready this time.

You catch a glimpse of silvery claws before Archer fires into the darkness, a pained cry echoing out an instant later, and when one launches itself at Goemon from behind he vanishes only to reappear behind it, slicing it in half with a single strike from his kunai. One divine word is all Circe needs to conjure a ball of searing light above your heads, finally throwing your attackers into clarity as they snarl and pull back, and you swallow thickly as you see them.

They're something between a dog and a wolf in terms of size and shape, but there's something wrong with them. Their tails are almost as long as their bodies, and their fur bleeds into wispy shadows as they move. Unnaturally long jaws reach down halfway to their neck, ivory fangs flashing as they growl, and their eyes are pure white, no iris or pupil to be seen. You can see a flash of pale white fur on the underbelly of the one that Goemon cut in two, but it's already fading, dissipating into smoky blackness that's pulled back towards the gloom surrounding you. They're not attacking for the moment, retreating from the werelight Circe's conjured, but something's wrong. It's not just your Instinct, not just the flow of magical power. There's something deep inside you pushing and screaming, something primal and unfocused and certain that you are in danger.

"Behind you!"

Niamh's cry is accompanied by a rush of energy, and you twist just in time to watch two great beasts appear out of nowhere. The darkness surrounding you grows deeper and deeper until those pale white eyes flash open in the gloom, one of the wolf-creatures emerging- no, forming out of the darkness like ink, its body pulling together mid-lunge as it soars towards Circe's light. You're moving, you're fast enough to block it, but Niamh has a head start and your senses are downright drowned in the feel of sun-on-skin, the scent and taste of spring on the air. Faster than you've ever seen her do it before, she conjures one of her fae familiars, the enormous black-coated hound of the Sídhe bursting forth from her outstretched hand. It's far bigger than usual, the size of a damned horse, and you can practically feel the shockwave as it slams into the smaller beast and knocks it off course, snarling and ripping and clawing at it as Niamh laughs with glee.

"They're targeting the light! We need to move!" As if drawn to Circe's voice, one of the smaller beasts lunges at her despite the illumination around you, and she spits something in some divine tongue to blow it away with a gust of wind. You haven't been overwhelmed yet, but she noticed what you did. As long as there's shadows around you, you're in danger. You need to get out of this forest, but how? There's no sign of any right direction, and if you just run off hoping you'll find the exit you could get turned around and drawn deeper.

You spot a flash of white and blue amidst the darkness, and for a moment you just stare as Fou silently waves his paws as he leans back on his hind legs. On some level you can't help but find it a little ridiculous, but he knew where the beasts were coming from before you did, and you don't have many more options.

"Goemon, get Niamh! Circe, over there!" Archer falls in beside you without needing instruction while Goemon vanishes once again, and you can only assume from Niamh's yelp that he's picked her up. Circe points her staff towards Fou and the werelight rockets towards that direction, rapidly dimming the world around you before you bolt to keep up, lunging down to pick up Fou before letting your shield disappear and starting to sprint despite the familiar's protest at the rough treatment.

You're fast, at least. Sprinting through the forest is treacherous, but even your duller Instinct is enough to help you avoid tripping. Goemon and Archer seem far too graceful for a misplaced step, and Circe's simply flying low enough that it's unlikely she'll hit any branches. You hear snarling and howling behind you, and every so often you catch one of the inky hounds melting into existence from the shadows around you, but in a dead sprint they can't keep up. You run and you run and you run, and just as soon as you start to doubt Fou's wisdom you see it.

Light.

You burst through the tangle of leaves and branches that hide the outside from view and you look up and your heart stops.

Some part of you, deep down, notices that you're just in a glade where the trees haven't grown, save for one in the center. The sun shines down and the wind rustles its leaves gently, but that's irrelevant, utterly inconsequential. Even the hounds that were chasing you seem like distant memories in light of what you see beneath the tree, and out of the corner of your vision you can see that your Servants have frozen all the same, staring at the same thing you are.

There's a woman sleeping beneath the tree, and she's the most beautiful woman you've ever seen in your entire life. Tawny hair falls down to her neck and shimmers in the sunlight like silk, framing features so breathtaking they put Da Vinci's to shame. Her skin is pale and flawless, full, pink lips lightly open as she rests, and though you can't see her eyes while she slumbers you know that if you could they would be mesmerizing. She's wearing something like an armored dress, rose-red silk and frills swelling out over her generous bust and flowing down her body before finishing in a frilly hem below her knees, with elegant sleeves and a tight collar covering every inch of skin below her head and a dark purple trim running along the entire garment. Above that, she wears oddly spiked armor as gold as the setting sun, layered metal tassets hanging from a belt around her waist, her hands and lower arms covered with delicate gauntlets with those same strange, short spikes on the knuckles and towards the elbows. From what little you can see of her legs, they're covered by the same golden armor, the same spiked design towards the bottom of her sabatons.

She sighs in her sleep and shifts softly and you step forward without thinking. Whoever she is, you want to be closer, want to let her rest, want to keep her safe. Nothing's ever been more important to you, nothing will be more important to you, and you take another step closer and-

Your awareness rushes back like someone dumped water over your head, and you shake away the remnants of whatever charm seized your mind like a dog shaking off water. When you look again, the woman is still downright gorgeous, but you're not thrown into that same stupor. A quick glance towards Circe confirms it wasn't some kind of spell, from the way she's still staring contentedly at the woman, so...something to do with you, then? You bite down your frustration at still not knowing who's power you borrowed, before reaching out to grab Archer by the shoulder and shake her gently.

"Archer. Archer, snap out of it." Nothing happens, and you raise your voice just a little. "Archer!"

She doesn't respond, but you hear a soft voice groan towards the center of the glade, and you turn just in time to catch the woman rubbing at her eyes before stretching her arms above her head and yawning. The spell is broken the moment she does, and Archer slumps a bit backwards before realising what you'd been doing and bolting to keep straight, apologising even as you keep your eyes on the woman beneath the tree. Circe and Goemon's grumbles reach you next, as do Niamh's, but you keep yourself focused. When she opens her eyes, you can see they're a deep, vibrant purple, as breathtakingly beautiful as the rest of her.

"Mmh...ah, was I asleep...? I do apologise..." Even shaking off the remnants of slumber, her voice is beautiful too, soft and rich and enticing without meaning to be, but you can't feel anything like just a few moments ago. Had she been trying to ambush you?

"Forgive me for that, I'm simply...very tired." She stands up and brushes the hem of her dress and idly you note she's not that much shorter than you are, five-ten at least, before giving you all a polite curtsy. "It's truly a pleasure to meet you all and welcome you to my glade, and once again I apologise for any trouble that my nap may have caused you."

She meets your eyes, and for a moment hers go wide with...something. Shock? Surprise? You can't tell, and in an instant she's back to giving a simple, angelic smile before continuing her introduction.

"My name is Avenger. How do you do?"

[ ] Ask her what this place is. A Bounded Field surrounding the forest and all of a sudden there's a glade like this, stepping right out of a fairy tale? You don't buy it. She has to be the one controlling this place, especially with a class like that.

[ ] Ask her how to escape. If she can find a place like this inside of the shadowy forest, there's no way she doesn't know her way around it well enough to find the exit. It's not exactly your favorite option, asking a random Servant you found sleeping in the forest, but it's the only one you have.

[ ] Ask her if she knows you. You've never seen her before in your life, obviously, but you know she saw something that made her pause. If you can have any hint towards the name of the Servant you've fused with, any hint at all, you need to take it.

 

[Squirtodyle]

"Do you know me?"

Of all the things to ask, it's probably the least helpful right in that moment. For all you know you've stepped into the heart of this woman's Bounded Field, or you've chanced on someone who seems able to turn this nightmare of a forest into something genuinely breathtaking, genuinely safe. Either way you could be learning how to get out of here, but fragments of memory tease your mind like a lover's touch. Voices that fade into fog when you try focus on them, words that wick away like smoke when you try recall them. It's happened twice now, it can't be a coincidence. It has something to do with the Servant you've been fused with, and you need to know. Even though the sharp question makes heads turn, even though it's shaken Niamh out of her stupor to look at you with such concern that it makes you sick, you need to know.

"Of course not." She's an excellent liar. She's so good you doubt yourself almost immediately, nothing in her expression or her posture or her voice indicating that it's not the truth but you know what you saw. "Though...I shall admit, I am certainly somewhat shocked to see a Master dressed for combat."

Your left arm tingles and you're acutely aware of your armor baring it to her, letting her see the crimson markings that carve their way towards your elbow. Doubt flickers through you again but you refuse to let it set in. You know what you saw. Before you can press her for more, however, Niamh steps forward, her face set in a proud smile.

"My brother is a Demi-Servant. He's already defeated Excalibur. You shouldn't think of him as any old Master!" Her voice burns with so much pride it makes you sick, though you admit it might have something to do with the memories she drags up. She has no idea what it felt like, to face the tide of shadows and not buckle and break. Even now you remember the agony, the weight, the heat. If it makes you more intimidating, you're not going to challenge it, but when she makes you sound like that, like some kind of- of hero? It makes your skin crawl.

"Excalibur...? Oh, my. You truly have been through an ordeal then, haven't you?" Avenger's face shifts into a small, warm smile, and she inclines her head towards you a little. "You may rest assured however that I am not here to fight you. I had been wandering the forest in search of anyone who had gotten lost, but I needed to take a quick nap. It is one of my failings as a Servant, I am rather afraid."

She looks almost bashful at the admission, her pale cheeks dusted with red as she glances away, and even without that supernatural charm you faced moments ago it's still distracting. It's beyond what's normal for a Servant, a more idealized kind of beauty than you're used to. Or maybe you've just never interacted with Servants long enough to notice, and now that you don't have to fear them like you did before you're noticing more clearly. It's hard to say, but at the very least you're not alone. Goemon has a sleazy smirk on his face, and Niamh seems almost entranced by the woman despite her earlier outburst.

"I should assume you wish to leave the forest? It is rather difficult alone, but I am certain you can tell that I bear some level of resistance to it. I can perhaps lead you out, if you so desire." The offer comes out of nowhere, and you can't find a hint of deceit anywhere. You don't trust her, you can't trust her, but if she's offering a way out...

<"...Goemon, Circe. Spiritual form. Archer, be at the ready."> Your Servants vanish and Niamh jumps at the sudden disappearance, though Goemon shoots you a look before he does. Archer's bow was out before you could even finish talking and goddamn but you appreciate it. As much as you've got your concerns about who she is and why she acts like she does, she's always up for dealing a lot of violence at anyone you're wary of.

<"You're a pain, you know that? We run into a sleeping beauty and you make me leave?">

<"Shut up. Both of you, be ready. If she tries anything-">

<"Yeah, yeah, whatever.">

<"I'll make it non-lethal to start, piglet. Take care!">

It's a struggle to keep your frustration off your face, but you manage it regardless. At least Circe's nice.

"Lead the way."

If she's at all put out about your clear display of distrust, she doesn't show it. If anything, her smile just grows a hair wider. "Of course. Do be careful. It does take some time for the forest to change, but we shouldn't be attacked regardless so long as I am present."

She turns and Niamh immediately moves to follow her, and with a curse you quicken your pace to make sure she's behind you. You're fast, but you can't risk Avenger being faster. At the very least Niamh seems to understand what you're doing, two tall Sídhe warriors appearing on either side of her with barely a whisper. She's always been good at creating them, but between these and the Cú Sídhe earlier your theory is being borne out. Tossing her earlier in history is having one hell of an effect on her magecraft.

Avenger's noticed their appearance too, and a quick glance back all of a sudden turns into a curious tilt of her head. "Ah...faeries?"

"Naturally." You can feel Niamh's smile from behind you, turning to watch her toss her hair haughtily. The move flashes her tapered ears and you barely suppress a sigh. Showing off for a potential enemy. She's already played her hand to some extent with the constructs, otherwise you'd be getting angry, but you know what's going on. Something about the other woman interests her, and she's letting it drive her.

"Your ears...I see. You carry faerie blood in you then. Though your brother would seem to lack...?"

"That's right. It was just me, yes."

You clench your fist hard enough that your nails bite into your palm, but you stay silent. So proud. So smug. Preening as her power is recognised, all it took was a little attention and she shifted from praising you to standing tall and bragging about her gift. Bragging about how she had it while you didn't. You take all that rage and that frustration inside you and you crush it down, drag it as deep inside you as you can and stop it spilling forth but you can't hold it all back. You can't even hold it back enough to avoid Avenger's eyes flicking to you for a moment, narrowing just a hair.

"I see. I am well familiar with the fae, and for their kind to be willing to offer you aid is gladdening, magus. However...I would ask you to be quite careful with them. This forest is rather dangerous." She gives another polite curtsy before turning on her heel and beginning to walk again, and you have to grit your teeth to stop yourself from saying anything. Not only is she lying to you, but you know she noticed how you reacted. Perhaps it's paranoia, but given where you are you can't be too careful. If she strikes, you need to be ready.

You walk in silence for a time, the forest still unnaturally empty. No rustling leaves, no quiet winds, no chirping birds. The only difference is that the shadows have retreated, no longer oppressively hanging over you with every moment. It's as if Avenger is a flame keeping them at bay, and a glance backwards only confirms that theory. A clear pathway of dim light peeks through the canopy where you've walked with her, and every step she takes away from it plunges it deeper and deeper into the murkiness that you arrived in. You don't see the blank whiteness of the shadow-beasts' eyes at least, but it's still unnerving. You can't tell how much progress you've made, how long it's going to take you to escape, you don't even know if Avenger's doing as she said she would, instead of just leading you to the deepest part so she can abandon you. Even with Archer close by, even with your other two Servants out of sight, your chest starts to tighten. How long will you be trapped in there? How long before she turns on you? How long-

"Princess Rose?"

Your feet move before you have a chance to think, launching yourself between Avenger and Niamh at the slightest sound before your Instinct screams at you. Behind. You twist just in time to see the emerald blade of one of Niamh's knights cut through the air towards you, faster than you'd ever seen them move before. Not fast enough to be a threat, not fast enough to outpace Archer's arrow rocketing through the construct's chest. It dissipates immediately, but the other is still there, stepping in to block your sister from sight as it swings its own sword. You don't even have to call it for your shield to appear on your arm and intercept the blow, and an instant later there's a rush of air to your side followed by a wet squelch. When you lower your shield to see what's happened, you see Avenger in between yourself and Niamh's warrior, a scarlet blade piercing its chest. It's red from hilt to tip, with a long, thin blade that grows more warped and spiked as it gets closer to the crossguard. Golden metal wraps around the hilt in an elegant knuckle-guard, and though it takes you a moment, you can see what it's meant to be. A delicate golden stem that twists into rows of leaves and twisting thorns, all leading to a decorative rose made of the same scarlet metal as the blade itself. The knight gurgles softly as Avenger withdraws the sword, and just before it dissipates as well, you see dark thorns writhing within the wound. Behind the fading knight, Niamh's face is pale, one hand in front of her mouth as she stares in shock, and it's only the sheer depth of the rage boiling up inside you that gives her a chance to speak. You just can't find the words yourself until she bursts into an apology.

"I-I swear that wasn't me! I don't know what happened, when you moved I was scared and-"

"How troubling. I did warn you to be careful with your constructs, did I not?" Avenger cuts her off with a pleasant smile, one hand raising to her cheek as she looks down at Niamh. "This forest's dangers are myriad, and the constructs of a magus are somewhat more susceptible than others. I had thought that it would be fine for the moment, but please forgive my rash decision. I simply did not expect to find something that would startle you so greatly. The mistress of this forest is rather solitary." It's only then that you remember what made you jump in the first place, and you turn to watch Avenger approach the source of the voice.

There's a little girl standing in the forest, a simple wicker basket in her hands. She can't be older than ten, with bright brown eyes and dark brown hair, and she wears a plain white dress and simple brown shoes. She looks as ordinary as could be, save for one thing. Wrapped around her neck and falling over her shoulders, she wears a hooded cloak the colour of fresh blood.

"Berserker. What are you doing here, little one?"

"My friends told me there were wolves here."

Spoiler: Berserker of the Forest Information Matrix: Level 2

Class: Berserker

True Name: Little Red Riding Hood?


Stats:-
STR: E
END: C
AGI: D
MAG: D
LCK: C


Skills:-
Mad Enhancement: D
The Class Skill of the Berserker class. In exchange for raising one's physical parameters, madness is inflicted upon the Servant, and their capacity for reason is reduced. At this rank, Berserker's Endurance and Agility are both ranked up. Though she retains some level of sanity, it has been twisted into something more akin to a beast than anything recognizably human, and any form of understanding is all but impossible without a similar mindset, or certain exceptions.


Animal Dialogue: A
A Skill that denotes the ability to communicate with animals and reach a mutual understanding. While complex conversation is impossible, Berserker nevertheless bears the capacity to communicate with and command beasts that are considered to be "below" her. Obedience is not magically compelled, but her orders are nevertheless followed without hesitation.

Further information is hidden.

Avenger gives a soft sigh, crouching down to her height and placing a hand on her shoulder. From the tone of her voice, you think she's smiling. "These people are not wolves, little one. I give my word. I shall lead them away so that you may be safe with your grandmother."

"...The others were wolves." The girl isn't dissuaded, staring past Avenger and right into your eyes. She doesn't blink, and if you were a lesser man you might have shivered. "Are you sure, Princess? We shouldn't let wolves live. Grandmother wouldn't like it."

"I am certain, Berserker. Run along home. There are no wolves here, I promise."

The girl hesitates, staring back at you for a few more moments before turning to Avenger and nodding.

"Okay. You'll come play with me again soon, won't you?"

"So long as you remain a good girl. I may be some time, but I will play with you when I return." Avenger reaches out to pat Berserker's head, and the girl giggles softly.

"Okay. Bye bye Princess. Bye bye wolves." You don't see her move, but she vanishes in the space of a heartbeat, like the darkness simply took form and swallowed her. You catch a hint of Avenger's fond expression as she turns to face you again, before it's back to the polite smile she's worn since you met her.

"I do apologise once more. Berserker is rather approving of me, so I had not expected her to bother those I was escorting. I hope that you were not frightened."

Spoiler: Avenger of Thorns Information Matrix: Level 1

Class: Avenger

True Name: Briar Rose?


Stats:-
STR: C
END: A
AGI: C
MAG: B
LCK: E


Skills:-
Avenger: B+
Class skill of the Avenger class, marking an existence that lives only to accumulate hatred and claim vengeance, that will never rest nor forget until burnt to nothingness. This skill allows Avenger to recover moderate amounts of mana simply by existing, and boosting the rate of generation while acting towards fulfilling her personal revenge. Clinging desperately to life in defiance of all logic, existing only to destroy themselves as they seek to sate their impossible hunger. Such is the lot of an Avenger, a fate that cannot be avoided.

Princess of Loveliness: B+
A Skill somewhat similar to Charisma, but rather than denoting the capacity for leadership, this instead represents the ability to draw those around them to the bearer. When awake, Avenger is difficult to part from and holds the attention and affection of others far more easily than normal. However, when Avenger falls asleep, this Skill receives a rank up, increasing from a mundane ability to a powerful supernatural charm. Those around her are struck dumb by her beauty and find themselves incapable of harming her, and those of a knightly character will be drawn to her as a protector, willing to fight and kill for her sake.

Additionally, while a powerful blessing, it is a curse. Avenger requires as much sleep as the average human, and will suffer from the same afflictions as them should she be unable to fulfil this requirement.

Further information is hidden.

Little Red Riding Hood and Briar Rose. You- you need to think. In all the years since the secret of how to craft a Holy Grail had been leaked, you don't remember anything fictional showing up as a Servant. You'd never encountered one yourself, never read a report on one, but now there were two? The magus part of you is frantically sifting through information, trying to come to a conclusion that satisfies it. They could be lying, of course, but then how to explain their powers? They should be weak without a legend or a fame boost to back them up, but Berserker's got an enormous Bounded Field and Avenger seemed average at worst from the tiny amount you saw. If they were who Avenger said they were then you could buy a fairy tale princess having an effect on a fairy tale forest, but even then it wouldn't explain Avenger's shock when she saw you.

Avenger just stares at you with that damnable smile and for a moment your temper flares white-hot. She's hiding something, you know it, she's hiding something just like Niamh was when she attacked you earlier-

"Master?"

Archer's voice is like being dumped into ice-water, a flash of sudden clarity cutting through the fog in your mind. You turn to look at her, her white-knuckle grip on her bow making the wood creak softly. The forest is getting to you, all of you, and you're sick of it. You can think when you're free.

"I'm fine, Archer. Let's just keep moving. Avenger, keep going."

"As you wish, sir magus." Oh, fuck no.

"Edward. Not magus."

"Sir Edward, then." Avenger's smile grows a hair as she turns on her foot, the hem of her dress swishing outwards before she starts to walk once more. You've barely taken a step before Niamh's fingers clasp around your arm, and the swell of revulsion inside you nearly makes you snap. When you look at her she flinches slightly, but you don't have sympathy. You're doing your best to control yourself, and if she's that upset by the tiniest bit of frustration in your expression, she can damned well be upset.

"I promise I didn't do it. It was just- I got so startled and they moved without me ordering them. You believe me, right? You know I'd never hurt you, right? Ever, ever?"

You manage to bite back the bitter laugh rising in your throat.

"I know. I don't blame you. Just don't summon again until we leave." That seems to satisfy her for the moment, though she steps forward so she can walk in time with you and doesn't let go of your arm until you shake her grip free. You can't justify letting her walk too far away from you now that she can't rely on her best magecraft to defend herself, but you wish you could. Having her near you is making you want to be sick, and it's worse with whatever this forest is doing to your mind. Idly, you reach to squeeze Archer's shoulder, as much for yourself as it is for her, and after a moment of stiffness she relaxes, turning to give you a tiny smile.

You can do this. Even if you're being selfish and using Archer to make yourself feel better, you can do this.

A few minutes more of silent walking and you notice that the light begins to cut through the canopy more than just around Avenger. You start walking a little faster, feeling like a drowning man who's finally seen the surface, and when the trees finally part into the daylight you can practically feel the shroud around you burning to nothingness in the warmth. If you were alone you might have laid down for a bit, just to savour the sudden absence of that crushing weight on your thoughts that you can't believe you hadn't noticed earlier, but you're not and you can't. You still have to decide where to go from here.

You can barely finish the thought before Circe appears beside you, shamelessly wrapping both her arms around one of yours and sighing with relief, and you have to suppress the urge to shake her off like a bee landing on you. You need to talk with her about the smitten act because it's starting to get- uncomfortable might not be the exact word for it but it's in the ballpark, really.

"Oh, that was awful. I'm glad you had us dematerialized, I can't imagine how badly I'd have reacted if I'd been physical. How are you feeling, piglet?"

"F-Fine, look, please get off me we need to focus-" You're cut off by a firm slap on your back, turning to see Goemon as he smirks at Niamh.

"Gonna go comfort the poor little princess, don't mind me." If he's hoping for a reaction he's not going to get one save for a single, long sigh that he's already too far away from you to hear. Focus, that's what you need. A quick glance at Avenger's insufferably polite smile is just the spike of frustration you need, and you gently slide out of Circe's grasp before giving her a look.

"Get higher up and see what you can see. We don't know where to go from here, and I want to know how big that forest is."

"Alright." At least she knows when to drop it. She's all business as soon as you speak, her wings spreading wide as she launches herself skyward. You don't have long to wait before she pulls at your tie to her, her voice flitting into your mind as clear as if she was standing right beside you.

<"The forest is big. Really big. A few hundred acres, I think, and it's growing. The Bounded Field is getting a tiny bit stronger by the second. I can't see much, but there's a town to the north and lake a little further east. Good odds on a leyline by the water, can't see anything in specific about the town. I'd recommend linking up with Chaldea first, but it's your choice, piglet.">

[ ] Head towards the lake. Chaldea is paramount. The forest is growing, but it's growing slowly. You'll be able to easily avoid it even going east, and it'll make it easier to navigate going forward. You'll be giving up on learning about the singularity as quickly as you can, but you'll take that risk.

[ ] Head towards the town. Fuyuki was a dead city, but here the sun is shining and the birds are singing now that you're out of the forest. The best way to learn what the hell is going on is to find people as fast as you can. Chaldea can wait for a little bit, they're expecting difficulties connecting anyway.

 

[Squirtodyle]

<"We're going for the town first. We need something to report and Chaldea can't offer us much right now. Best chance to get new information is from people who actually live here.">

It's not the magus move, but you're not much of a magus. The sooner you can come to grips with exactly what's happening here, the sooner you can figure out a way to stop it. Chaldea won't tell you anything you didn't know going into this place and you're getting antsy not knowing what to expect. On top of that, you don't trust Avenger, and you definitely don't want her listening into your communications before she's proven herself a little more. Worst case scenario, you get tossed out of town for being visibly not the common people of fifteenth century France.

<"Alright. As long as it stays nice and sunny I should be fine regardless. I'm coming back down.">

There's not much more that needs to be said between the two of you, so you glance around at your party for a moment. Fou is lying out on the grass sunning himself and rolling around, and you're inclined to let him after he helped lead you out of the woods. Niamh looks distraught enough that Goemon's company isn't annoying her, though given the lecherous grin on his face you can only imagine he's not exactly trying to cheer her up as some selfless act. Archer's stayed by your side the whole time, her bow still at the ready as she stands ram-rod straight, watching everything at once but especially your final companion, the one who saved you from the forest.

Now that you're free of the woods, you can admit to yourself that you're not as suspicious of her as you were. Circe is clear proof that Servants in these Singularities aren't always going to be enemies, and she did do exactly as she said she would, even managing to get you away from Berserker without a fight. She had plenty of chances to harm you, including that one time she actively protected you when Niamh's constructs went berserk, but...you still can't bring yourself to fully trust her. She didn't tell you her name, and her being Briar Rose still makes no sense at all, especially with that sword and her armor. Unless every single War you'd ever read a report on just so happened to avoid them, fictional creations couldn't be Servants. It's something you need to confirm with Chaldea when you can, but for the moment you've got to make a choice. Better to keep her close if she really is an enemy.

"Avenger." You're careful not to be too familiar or too accusatory, and the princess favors you with a smile when you call for her. "We're moving out towards the town. If you want, you can come with us."

"I had intended to raise that very matter myself, but I am gladdened to have you yourself offer it." You can practically feel Archer tense up beside you, but she'll deal with it. You'll talk to her once you're on the road. "If you are satisfied with my performance thus far, I would be well glad to join your companions in resolving this Singularity. You may rest assured that I have been provided with the bare minimum information during my summoning, and that I will do my utmost to avoid slowing you down."

"Alright. We're leaving now, then." Something about the explanation feels off, and on a whim you reach out to Circe again as she alights from her quick scouting run.

<"Circe, you were summoned spontaneously. Did you get any information about what was happening?">

<"Mm. I did, and the demon explained further. Everything she's said checks out so far.">

You sigh softly under your breath and cut the contact with a grateful nod, before you call for Niamh and Goemon to start following. Your own Servant lags and ignores you for a moment, but Niamh bolts up like she's been shocked before rushing right to your side, completely clueless of the way you grit your teeth. At least she doesn't try to start talking to you, because you need to speak with Archer.

"Archer, are you alright?" You're walking spread out enough that the others shouldn't hear you speaking so softly, though Niamh's tapered ears twitch with interest in the corner of your eye. Goemon is- you hope he's keeping watch while using his Presence Concealment and Circe's up in the sky to keep an eye on anything you might run into, so you have some level of relative privacy. At the very least, Avenger seems to understand that she's not quite as welcome as the others.

"...Yes, of course. I am in perfect condition should we be forced to engage in combat, Master." You manage not to sigh.

"That's not what I asked, Archer." She's silent for a few seconds, before her shoulders slump slightly.

"I do not trust Avenger. She bewitched me when we first met, and the forest...there was something evil about it. It- it's lingering." You get the impression that she's holding back a shiver, and when she turns to you you're reminded that despite her height, despite her power, she's still a child, amethyst eyes practically pleading for some kind of validation. "She's...she's going to try kill us. I'm sure of it, Master. We should-"

"What? No, she's not." Niamh cuts in and you force down the surge of rage that's welling up in your chest. Archer's worse affected by the woods, can't she see that? "She's a princess. If she was going to hurt us, she could have done it before. She's trying to help, she saved Edward from my knight!"

"I..." Archer flinches back from Niamh as she raises her voice and that- that's enough, that's too much for you. You round on Niamh and stare down with anger in your eyes, and for an instant she glares up just as strongly, flicking her gaze from Archer to the annoyance keeping her from saying her part and then realising exactly what's happening, her fists unclenching, shoulders relaxing.

"E-Edward, I just...I think we should trust her is all, I know that the girl is-"

"Archer," The word is like a knife as you say it, carefully and sharply enunciating it like you're sliding it between your sister's ribs. "Is my Servant. Go keep Avenger company so we can talk, Niamh."

"I..." She looks like she's been slapped, but at the very least she doesn't argue. "Alright. I'm- I'm sorry, Edward, I promise. I'd never try to hurt you. I promise."

You bite back the response you want to give and send her off with a nod. If she wants to think you're angry with her because of that, then fine. She can delude herself as long as she likes. Now that you're properly alone you stop walking for a moment and turn to Archer, looking her in the eye and doing your best to seem supportive. Part of you wants to squeeze her shoulder but it's...you're just not used to it and you don't think she is either, you did it once and it didn't work out. Best to just let things go as they are, try fix them just like this.

"I don't trust her either, Archer. I promise, I'm keeping an eye on her. We're outside the Bounded Field so things will get back to normal. You don't have to worry." It's been so long since you've had to be someone else's support, but at least Archer seems to appreciate it. She shivers slightly, before letting out a shaky breath, and when she speaks again she sounds a little more put together than she did a few moments ago.

"Thank you, Master. I'll- I will be alright before long."

"We've got plenty of time before we arrive. Just take it easy for a bit." She looks at you again and nods softly, a small smile on her lips.

"...Alright."

Spoiler

Archer's Bond Level has increased.

-----​

The town isn't on fire or overrun by the living dead, so it's already a straight upgrade on Fuyuki. Archer and the others dematerialized as you approached and Fou scampered off when people came into view, but you can't do anything about Avenger or Niamh, or yourself for that matter. If you had more of a crowd you could work a spell or two and drift into irrelevance in the eyes of anyone who saw you, but not with only two people around. All you can do is approach the gate with them and watch the guard's eyes widen.

"W-Who're you?"

You thought "guard" when you saw him, but it doesn't seem to fit. His spear looks shoddy, cobbled together rather than forged to any sort of specification, and the only armor he wears is a battered iron helmet. He doesn't have the right stance, even though he's leveling the spear towards you, and he looks like he's about to run if you so much as raise your voice. Not a guard by trade, then? Forced into the role, maybe, but by what? You've got to think it over, but thankfully Avenger speaks up so your silence isn't too strange.

"Good sir, my traveling companions and I were simply looking for a place to stay when we chanced upon your fair village. Would you be so kind as to allow us through, that we may rest our weary bones?" She gives the man an absolutely brilliant smile and you really can't blame him when his arms sag and he starts to stare. Niamh's as entranced as the man, a wide grin on her face, but at the very least you're not going to get suckered in so easily. Princesses don't become Avengers for no reason.

"I, er...yeah. Yeah, alright. Can't be any weirder than the painter. Welcome to Châteaudun, just...mind yourself, yeah? We've been attacked more than a few times this week, and...well." He leans in conspiratorially, though you half think it's just to be closer to Avenger. "You didn't hear it from me, but you see a man with dark hair and a beard like a bush? Stay away from him. Raoul's a murderer. Swears blind it was the bears, but I never trusted him."

"I shall certainly keep it in mind. Do keep up the good work keeping your home safe, sir guardsman." Avenger nods and he beams in response, waving the three of you in without another word. Once the wooden gate closes behind you she turns and offers you a smile.

"I do apologise for taking it upon myself to explain our purpose, sir Edward. I hope that my performance was satisfactory?"

"Absolutely!" Niamh chimes in before you have a chance to say anything, and you have to fight to bite back your sigh.

"Mmh." This was so much easier with Circe. You had a transaction, a deal. But Avenger? She's fine all by herself, and she's been so helpful regardless. It makes you want to squirm. "You be the face of the party then, it'll probably work better than either of us trying."

"If that is your wish, I am grateful to be of assistance."

Niamh doesn't have any complaints either, though you expect that's probably because she's still starstruck by Avenger. The woman certainly has patience if she could put up with Niamh for the last while of your journey, and she takes off on her assigned task without hesitation, the two of you following behind. It's a relatively small town, full of stone and mortar buildings and houses. You can see a few shops selling tools and vegetables, and once you pass by an open tavern, but there's a strange mood. It certainly smells lived-in, the scent enough to make you wrinkle your nose when you pass a particularly filthy spot, but the streets are nigh-empty besides for you and your party, no children playing, no people chatting, no shopkeepers haggling. You spend a few minutes making your way towards what you assume is the center of the town and you only meet one other man along the way, and he seems like he's ready to cut and run before he hears Avenger call out to him so she can ask a few questions.

"This town truly is lovely, but I cannot help some feeling of concern with how quiet it is. Might it be that something has happened lately, good sir?" The man gives a snort of bitter laughter, shaking his head and eyeing Avenger with a slight hint of suspicion in his eye.

"World's gone mad. Burned the maiden not two weeks ago and now they say she's come back to life as a witch, then we get attacked by great big dirty bears every few days since. Killed a dozen so far, and that bastard Guillaume, the one playing at being a guard? I swear he's killed too. He's too eager to get his hands on that spear, you know? Too eager by far."

Avenger keeps speaking to the man but you tune it out, you can always have her tell you later. That was- that was a lot to process. Jeanne d'Arc was supposed to have been killed a day or two ago at most, not weeks ago, and her being revived as a witch...

You'd half expected it, honestly. The bonfire and the timing seemed too perfect. But of all the Servants you'd expect to have a twisted other side to them, the Maiden of Orléans just didn't fit. Grail Mud then, or some equivalent? It's not impossible, you'd heard stories of what it did when it got into a Servant's system. You've got at least one of the Goetia to deal with too, they've definitely had a hand in twisting history to this extent, but you can't figure out why. You'd expected battlegrounds, but this didn't seem like there was a war being waged. It just seemed like they were toying with the innocents they'd caught up in the Singularity, no great conflicts or terrible battles scarring the land, no incredible demons tearing and clawing and ripping and gouging at each other in the skies. You're not panicking, you've worked too long for that, but it's still so incredibly frustrating to be so lost, to have so much riding on you when you feel like you're blind.

"It's like a fairy tale." Niamh's voice cuts through your thoughts and you turn to glare at her, but she's not looking at you. She's looking back in the direction of the forest, a frown on her face. "There's princesses, dark forests full of wolves, an evil witch...they're doing this on purpose. Taking all the fiction and dragging it into the real world. Not like what I do, with my faeries. They were real. But this place...it feels like a fantasy. Does that make sense...?"

Dragging fiction into the real world. She's not wrong in that, at least.

"Yeah." You almost leave it there, but some tiny niggling at the back of your mind drives you to speak up again. "Don't get too friendly with Avenger. She's the class she is for a reason."

She glances back at you before she starts smiling of all things, giving you a cheerful nod.

"Alright, if you say so. Thank you for looking out for me, Edward."

You don't know how to respond to that, so you don't. You really hadn't meant it as anything more than warning a colleague, but...fuck it. If it'll get her off your back, you're happy to let her stay deluded for a little longer. Avenger's finished her conversation anyway, and it seems like there wasn't much else of worth to glean from the man anyway. Warnings of the attacks, aspersions cast on someone in the town, something about a painter. The first two are more important, especially the second. It's possible it's nothing, just the heightened tension making old frustrations bubble up, but...the way the forest made you feel makes you hesitate. It was growing. You needed to be careful.

The rest of the walk to the center of the town passes without incident, but considering how short it was you'd have to be terribly unlucky for something horrible to go wrong. It's really nothing special, just a small nondescript monument in the center with the church nearby, but something catches your eye. There's a man sitting on a stool and facing the church, with a blank canvas set up on a stand in front of him.

You'd put him at his mid-forties if you had to guess, lightly tanned, hair as black as ink curling down his head, with a sharply trimmed goatee framing his handsome features. His nose is a little larger than normal and his full lips are pursed in an expression of annoyance, but the scowl he wears only draws attention to the intensity in his dark brown eyes, the colour of an ancient oak standing tall in the sunlight. There's a roughness to him, a sense of- not foreboding, exactly, but something like its cousin. His anger wasn't anger really, it was just passion, and it's alluring all by itself.

It isn't until your gaze drifts below his face that you find reason to be concerned. His clothes aren't particularly memorable, nothing more than a simple pair of boots and dark pants with a white shirt and dark overcoat, except the latter covered only one side of his body. His left arm was normal, but his right, the side where he held his brush, was pitch black. From fingertips to the bare shoulder that his half-coat revealed, his arm looked like it was made of some kind of liquid darkness that caught the sunlight and shined, like he'd simply fashioned himself a limb out of ink. Or, you suppose, out of paint.

He notices you a second after you do him, and those dark eyes flick between the three of you before settling on you and widening slightly. That arm marks him as a Servant or something strange at the very least, and you tense up as all of a sudden he leaps to his feet, his stool falling to the ground with how quickly he moves, before pointing right at you and letting out a shout.

"You!" He's stalking towards you already, his eyes alight with excitement, and you're already about to summon your shield when he clasps his hands together and beams at you. "You! You, you, you! Oh this town has been so dreadful, I cannot even begin to speak of how maddening it is to try to paint people that keep themselves all locked up all the time! But you're here now, oh, this is wonderful! Come, come stand by the church, you simply must be my model, my muse!"

You blink.

"I'm...sorry, what?" You sound as lost as you must look, and a quick glance towards Avenger's bemused expression tells you you're not alone. You'd expected combat, not a modeling gig.

"My model, man, don't make me repeat myself! Oh, damn it all, I suppose you want my name? Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio, but you and only you may simply just call me Caravaggio. Oh, you are a blessing, even that dreadful armor isn't marring you too much, you should-"

"My brother isn't going to model for a Servant we've just met, how dare you-" Niamh starts to speak, an almost possessive note in her voice that makes your gut squirm before the man, Carravaggio, holds up a finger to her lips and silences her.

"You dare interrupt me, me, you selfish cretin?! I have exactly zero interest in you, and in fact invite you to go and hang somewhere your corpse will feed some fungus. Only then perhaps might I be willing to put to canvas your pretentious visage!"

Spoiler: Caravaggio Information Matrix - Level 1

Class: ???

True Name: Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio

Stats:-

STR: C
END: D
AGI: D
MAG: C
LCK: C

Skills:-

Human Observation: C
The capacity to observe and understand people at a glance. Caravaggio's strong belief in portraying the imperfect truth in his works provided him with a talent in comprehending the lives of others, something which has been further enhanced as a Servant. With little more than a look he is capable of learning the more obvious details of a person, and conversation allows him to reveal less prominent features. Ultimately, the truth is unveiled that Caravaggio may put it to canvas, and so this skill's middling rank represents the speed at which his understanding develops rather than the comprehensiveness of his observation in general.

Further information is hidden.

You feel a surge of affection you really shouldn't at the sudden insults he's flinging her way, and...gods, if only you could frame that expression. You think you even caught a glimpse of Avenger smiling. Niamh looks like she's about to explode, sputtering like a tea-kettle as she tries to find the words, while Caravaggio's already turned back to and started smiling that intense, distracting smile again, clasping your shoulder with his normal arm as he speaks. You don't even find it all that uncomfortable really, though admittedly that might be your chains and armor keeping it from being real contact.

"I've been looking high and low for a model of your caliber, for someone to give me that spark I need. You are beautiful, flawed, bent but not broken! Utterly entrancing! I beg of you, allow me to capture your essence on this canvas!"

"I-I'm what?" He's seeing a little too deeply for your comfort, and almost immediately his touch starts to feel like an uncomfortable itch. You're about to move to shake him off before you hear a terrible roar from the right, followed by a scream.

"They're back! The bears are back! Get inside!"

"Tch. The worst timing!" Caravaggio curses under his breath and steps back, his canvas and paintbrush disappearing as he casts a sour glare over in the direction of the scream. "Go, then. Go, be a hero! I will find you again and mark my words, you shall be my model! I am far too captivated by you!"

With that final farewell, the inky blackness spreads across his body in a flash. For a moment, it's as if there's a replica of the man made entirely out of darkness, before it loses cohesion and crashes to the ground in a puddle of black paint. A moment later, it's gone.

Be a hero.

Damned man knew you'd been itching to move since you heard that roar.

"Niamh, catch up, Avenger, with me!" She's no slouch at Reinforcement, but your sister can't keep up with a Servant and you don't have the time to indulge her. She can seethe over Caravaggio's comments later, but right now you need to move. A single powerful jump sends you sailing onto the nearby rooftops, and it's effortless to leap from one to another. Avenger obeys your orders without complaint and you can feel your other Servants - well, Archer and Circe at least - following you. Circe won't materialize without an order and Archer would be the same unless she feels you're in trouble, which you appreciate. If it's just bears, you shouldn't need too much help.

You cross the town just quickly enough to spot the masses of dark brown fur that are launching themselves towards the town and you curse yourself for ever thinking that you'd be lucky enough to get just bears.

There's three of them, and they're all enormous. You'd guess they're maybe fifteen, twenty feet tall if they stood up on their hind legs, but even on all fours they're massive things, and the flashes of white and yellow in their maws hint at some vicious teeth to go along with the knifelike claws you spy on their paws. Some part of you is wondering how in the hell they only managed to kill twelve people if it's that that's attacking, but hell, you'll take small mercies.

Another scream cuts off your train of thought and you glance a little closer. There's a man there, stuck outside the gate, and the first and closest bear has its hateful, scarlet eyes fixed directly on him. You can already see it happening, the bigger, stronger, faster creature closing the distance in an instant, gutting the man with a single swipe, feasting before he even has a chance to die.

Like. Hell.

A sudden burst of speed sends you rocketing downwards fast enough that you swear you hear a little boom, slamming into the ground before the man like some kind of descending angel, shield at the ready and one of your chain-blades already in your hand. The bear is already mid-lunge but you don't wait for it to come, instead pushing forward yourself, shield in front of you, shoulder braced against it. The beast crashes into you and the vibrations from the impact make your bones shiver, but the pain vanishes a moment later. Not as strong as a Servant, then, or at least not when they're caught off guard. The bear lets out a moan of pain and you try to stab it from underneath, your magical energy pulsing within you as you prepare to unleash the curse inside your Mystic Code, but it's already backing away, wild swipes hissing through the air and making you duck under your shield to avoid getting your face clawed off. You can hear the man behind you saying something but it's like he's a thousand miles away, the adrenaline pounding through your system drowning out anything but the fight right in front of you.

It doesn't take long for the bear to attack you again, this time with the other two backing it up, but you're not alone either. Avenger alights daintily at your side, her scarlet blade held at the ready, and you know it won't be too much longer before Niamh's constructs appear either, or before you call for aid.

"Get back inside!" You roar at the man without looking, without even checking to see if he's obeying your order. All you can focus on are the bears, which still have you outnumbered despite your advantage in pure power. The one in the middle paws at its snout and whines, and the two on either side growl with renewed rage. Something about it seems bizarrely familiar to you, but you don't have time to ponder. The one on the left is already charging at you again, and you don't have the element of surprise on your side. Old instincts fight against new and the old wins out, your shield vanishing as you dash to the side, moving low and spreading your arms to give your chains room to unwind. They respond to your thoughts, darting out like vipers as you twist and thrust both of your arms towards the bear. It moves with downright frightening speed for how big it is, dodging the first without issue and moving far enough that the second only slashes at the skin rather than embeds itself deep enough for your purposes. It leaps in at you as you recall your chains and you have to dash backwards, acutely aware of the wall behind you. Going through it isn't an option you'd like to take, and so when the bear charges once again you leap, twirling in the air like a gymnast so you land right on its back before kicking off and sending your chain rocketing directly at it, the silvery steel hissing as it cuts through the air before biting deep, deep into the monster's flesh.

With a savage growl of triumph you flood the chain with your mana, the curse of Binding activating and making the bear freeze up, like ethereal chains had suddenly wrapped their way around it and squeezed tight. It took more out of you than you expected, but it worked. One down, as long as you kept your chain in it. All you needed to do was kill it fast. Avenger is at your side in moments, moving with the kind of grace that makes it look like she's dancing her way through the battlefield. With an elegant flick of her arm, she scores the ground in front of you with her blade and you watch as vicious, thorny vines sprout upwards, twisting and writhing and wrapping around each other until they form a wall.

"Allow me to defend you while you finish slaying the first of these beasts, sir Edward. I am certain that they will not be capable of piercing my thorns...?"

She trails off just in time for your Instinct to scream, and you have to wrench your chain free to move quickly enough to shove Avenger out of the way. An instant later, a stream of fire billows from behind the thorny barrier, the enchanted vines shriveling and burning under the intense heat. The flames subside a moment later, and you're treated to the sight of one of the bears with tongues of flame licking up from its open maw, its throat like a glowing furnace and its claws wreathed in fire hot enough that you can feel it on your skin even from that far away.

A growl from behind is the only warning you get before you feel Archer materialise behind you, and you twist to watch as the bear you'd subdued howls an icy gust at you, the grass below you flash-freezing where it meets the gale. There's an uncomfortable tug in the pit of your stomach as Archer thrusts her palm forward, her arm wreath in swirling winds and crackling with electricity, and the boom as the two forces meet each other feels like it's going to deafen you. Somewhere in the middle of the chaos it clicks in your head exactly what you're fighting, and you want to laugh at the absurdity of it all despite your situation. At least if you're right, the third bear should be normal. Just right.

You stumble to your feet in anticipation of another assault, Avenger having already righted herself after your sudden tackle, but you can't even ready your shield before you hear another voice ringing out, loud, confident, commanding.

"Away with you! Away! In the name of the Lord, you are not welcome here! Away!"

You turn, and standing atop the gate, framed by the sun like a halo, stands a woman holding a banner sewn with lilies and adorned with angels. Her hair is as gold as the sunlight that frames her, and she's covered from neck down in resplendent white armor. She has a sword belted at her waist, and her eyes are like shimmering blue sapphires as she stares down at the monsters. They've frozen at her voice, and as she slams the butt of her standard against the stone of the gate, they begin to scramble away, running west without looking back.

She jumps down from the gate and strides over to you firmly, and even though she's half a head shorter than you you can't help but feel awed in her presence. She's beautiful up close, her tresses of golden hair falling around her shoulders and framing her stunning features, but it's almost impossible to process that information after having just seen her with her standard raised and the sunlight seeming to pool around her like the will of God itself was at her back. This one, at least, was no witch. She looks you up and down for a moment before nodding, then extending her hand with a nod and an approving look.

"My name," she says, as if the introduction is even remotely necessary, "Is Jeanne d'Arc. You and I have a lot to discuss, Master of Chaldea."

You take her hand without thinking and offer her a firm shake, still staring somewhat dumbly. You've met Servants before, you've even met Servants that captivated your mind for a bit, but this is...different. It's not a charm, not a curse. Just...awe. She pulls away and nods towards your companions, Archer simply staring while Avenger curtsies politely. Eventually, you pull yourself together enough to speak.

"Edward. I...you're-"

"Not here." She cuts you off with a sharp look, before nodding north. "My allies have a camp not too far that way. We'll discuss things there. Buné's painter was seen here earlier, it's not safe."

Buné. One of the Goetia. That's who you're dealing with then, just the one? It's more than you knew beforehand, but the knowledge still makes you shiver, makes the whole situation more real.

"Gather yourselves. We're marching as soon as you're able. I'm going to check on the people." She turns without another word and leaps over the wall just in time for Niamh to burst through the gates, her lithe build disguising just how strong she could make herself when she needed. She rushes over to you and starts to speak, but you hold up a hand to silence her. Not now. You need...you need to process things.

Jeanne returns a minute or two later, her standard having vanished somewhere in the interim. She nods at Niamh who gives her a frown in return, before looking at you once more. "We set up camp above a leyline, if you need it. Makes it easier to defend if needs be. We'll be marching for an hour, but I'll answer all your questions when we get there."

She turns and starts to move as if there's no real argument against her, and in a way you suppose there isn't. Nothing for it but to decide who you'll talk with to pass the time during your walk.

[ ] Jeanne Non-starter. She's already made it clear she won't be talking, so you're better off doing something productive.

[ ] Niamh You don't have the patience for her now. When you're at camp, maybe.

[ ] Avenger

[ ] Circe

[ ] Goemon

 

[Squirtodyle]

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.

Spoiler

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.

 

[Squirtodyle]

"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."

Spoiler

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.

Spoiler

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.

 

[Squirtodyle]

Everyone there is something of a known quantity, excepting Marie. You've met Sanson before, and it's hard not to get a picture of how they are from your interactions with Jeanne and Dumas, but you've never heard of Marie Antoinette being summoned before, and given what you know about her it's a little bit strange. After a moment's hesitation you set down your bowl and walk off after her, promising yourself you'll speak to Goemon soon. You know you shouldn't be putting it off, but you really, honestly cannot stand him, and he seems fine going back to cuddling with Dumas.

You find her close to the edge of the glade, the thorny barricade stretching up easily three or four times your height. When you'd arrived you'd been stressed and tired enough that you'd missed them in the dark, but now that it's brighter and you're not worried that you'll be attacked out in the open you can appreciate the flowers that bloom up around the base. Roses, mostly, but there's a few others as well, petals dyed white and purple and blue melding together into an unkempt but beautiful wall within the wall, doing just a little to hide that vicious brambles that keep the people inside safe. All Marie is doing is looking over the tangle of growth and tapping her foot, one arm propping up her elbow so a delicate finger can rest on her chin, the sharp nail glinting crimson in the morning sunlight.

It's not from polish, you realise after another moment. Her nails are cut gemstone as well, deep, dark rubies grown from her flesh and fashioned into talons, as though she was a statue to be adorned and decorated as her creator pleased.

"It's pretty, isn't it?" Her voice pulls you from your thoughts, but she hasn't turned to look at you yet, still focused on the flowers. "I liked gardening when I was queen. I think I could really brighten up the place with these if we were going to stay...it's a shame we'll be moving on so soon. I hardly get any time for myself since being called."

"I...suppose it is?" You hadn't really expected that to be how she started off, though if you're honest it's not like you know what you expected. Her telling you to eat cake?

"You came all this way to speak to me and that's how you start out? A lady might feel embarrassed if that's all she can coax out of you." This time she turns, and you finally get a closer look at her. Her gemstone eye is as brilliant as any you've ever seen, and you notice a glinting emerald growing from her tongue almost like a piercing. She's really not what you expected.

Besides the ones that are a part of her, the only adornments she has are the fleur-de-lis pins that keep her twintails in place. The deep red, high-collared coat she wears is tightly buttoned at the front over the modest swell of her chest, folding into neat lapels trimmed with black. It cuts off right at the waist in front, but behind it splits into two tapered tails that sway in the slight breeze. The bone-white leggings she wears below are tight enough that you'd probably have stared a little longer if circumstances were different, and they end in a pair of black riding boots that reach to just below her knee. It's vaguely military, from what you can recall of the older uniforms in your history lessons, but it certainly wouldn't convince anyone she was a soldier. She looks like someone's idea of cavalry, but twisted and altered to eliminate any gauche breach of fashion.

"Sorry. I'm not really one for flowers." It's about all you can think to say, though at least she's smiling instead of the alternative. "Dumas is very open, and I've already met Sanson, so I figured I should try speaking with you first."

"So thoughtful!" She looks up at you with a small smile, cheek resting in her palm as she gives you a once-over. It lingers just long enough to make you blink, before a murmur slips through her lips.

"You wanted to see whether or not I was like all the stories, hm?" It's not a question regardless of how she phrased it, so you don't protest. The mild queasiness in your stomach proves she hit the mark anyway. "It's alright. It's to be expected. I'm not exactly the world's most accomplished Rider, despite the court gossip."

The sudden swerve makes you snort in a kind of embarrassed amusement before you can stop yourself, and Marie's grin grows a hair wider in response, and after a brief pause you just give a half shrug and start to speak again.

"Yeah, I guess. I've never heard of you being summoned, and given how things get warped I half-expected something a little wilder."

"You deal with Servants often, then?" Marie tilts her head, blinking in curiosity. "I suppose you must, given that you're acquainted with Charles."

"More often than most." It takes you a second to remember she's talking about Sanson. "I was an agent for the Clock Tower, I suppose you could call it. When the secret of how to make a Grail got leaked, they started popping up around the world, and we started having to deal with those on top of rogue magi. I met Sanson during a war in Glasgow."

"Was he your Servant, then?" You can't quite suppress the shudder you feel at those words.

"No, no. Enforcers didn't participate, we just sabotaged them. We avoid Servants whenever we can, we can't hope to fight them. Meeting Sanson was just a stroke of bad luck." You really don't like recalling it. Managing to get away from that fucking nightmare of a Berserker had taken enough out of you, watching Sanson cut him in half with a single swing before he turned and fixed you with those eyes of his had chilled you to your core.

"I see...bad luck? He's a rather nice man, all things considered. Unless…" She tapped a finger to her chin again, humming softly. "He decided not to kill you, but he'd been considering it. Enforcers are killers, then?"

"Among other things." You give another half-shrug, though this time it's a little more forced. "We're hired by the Clock Tower to hunt down magi that risk the secrecy of magecraft. They happen to be the kind that put people in danger, so them dying helps everyone out." Mostly.

"I think I understand now. You're the same. Sanctioned killers in the name of justice, is that it?" When she smiles again it's bittersweet, enough to make your stomach twist. "I suppose I'll keep an eye on you as well, then. Charles is already bad enough with how he gets."

"Why do you care?" You blurt it out before you can stop yourself, the thought scratching at the back of your mind like a pet begging to be let out. "He-"

"Killed me, I know. I can't exactly forget it." She tugs down the collar of her coat just a bit, enough that you can see the pale white, perfectly even scar that runs all the way around her neck. "He killed my husband too. But I knew him, you understand? Before that unpleasantness, we were close. I was fond of him, very fond, and I assume the feeling was mutual. He'd kill anyone if ordered, and he'd make certain it didn't hurt. After everything, I was a dead woman regardless. I can only imagine he took it upon himself to kill me lest I ended up torn to pieces by an angry mob if he refused."

"I wasn't a perfect queen, I know that. I certainly didn't help as much as I'd intended to, and I may have been selfish here and there." There's a fire in her voice now despite how even she's keeping it, little spikes of venom slipping through her composure as she crosses her arms. "I know all that, but I hardly deserved death. He knew that too, but it was either kill me or let me be killed, and he wouldn't trust anyone else with that duty. I suppose I could just wallow in all the unfairness and tell anyone and everyone I meet that I despise him and all the people who condemned me, but I'd rather do something productive instead of waste away like that wretch who made this place."
"Avenger?" You'd been kept silent by the sudden swerve the conversation took, but even you couldn't hold your tongue at that. You might not trust the woman, but wretch?

"Avenger." Marie's expression twists into a scowl for a moment, as though the word itself was foul. "I could be that, you know? And yet, I'm not. I chose not to be, and I'm certain she could too if she wanted. If she's going to be satisfied defining herself by how much she hates everyone because she suffered, then fine, but I'm hardly going to pretend I think anything at all of her for it."

You don't know what to say to that, and the silence stretches on just long enough to grow uncomfortable before Marie lets out a slow breath and gives you a softer look.

"...Apologies, Edward. Would you believe this is the first chance I've had to talk like this with someone since I got summoned?" She lets her arms drop to her side, eyes flicking back to the main campsite for an instant. "We've been rushing around the last few days, and I didn't want to distract Jeanne or inspire Dumas to write another book about me. And Charles has been...hah, distant. I can't imagine why. I suppose when I realised how similar the two of you are, I just took it out on you when you gave me an excuse. Not very queenly of me."

"It's fine. I came to you first." Not that it's not a little overwhelming, but if she's been keeping all that bottled up out of necessity you can't really begrudge her the chance to let it out. You still kind of want to leave, though.

"...Hah. You two really are similar, you know that?" There's a distant look in her eyes, and you know she's looking right past you, at the man standing elsewhere in the glade, the man standing above her as he prepared to end her life. "He always wanted to be a doctor, but he was forced into ending lives instead of saving them. Incredible at it too, I didn't feel a thing when he killed me. And he's looked fucking miserable ever since the two of us locked eyes here, so now I can't even take comfort in having someone I care about with me."

She turns to you once again, and this time her gaze is intense enough that you can't even think about breaking it.

"As thanks for letting me get all that off my chest, let me give you some advice, Edward." She reaches up and pokes you just below your neck, just hard enough to make certain you can't possibly be distracted. "You didn't start out wanting to become a killer for money. I don't know why you chose it, I know you think you're probably doing the right thing, but don't let it be you anymore. You'll end up just like him, and everyone around you will suffer for it."

You slap her hand away.

You can't help it, it's just pure instinct. The conversation hasn't been comfortable for you since the minute it started and now it's turned from her using you as a punching-bag to her digging into things you never wanted to think about and you- you can't, you just can't deal with that. Not now, not here.

There's a long moment of silence between the two of you, and you think you see a flash of anger on her face for just a moment before she steps back and looks away.

"I'm not going to apologize. You needed to hear it. If you don't believe me, you go speak to Charles. Ask him about me and see if you can stomach whatever nonsense he has to say."

"You should focus on the mission." There's a chill to your tone, but she brushes it off like it's nothing.

"I'm a third-rate Servant who's only useful for maybe getting the rest out of a tight spot now and again. I'll give everything I can to this, I know what's at stake, but I'll be damned if I get a second shot at life and don't take it, Edward. Maybe you just need to focus on yourself a little more."

That's more than you can take. Without a word of goodbye, you spin around and march off, looking for one of the more secluded spots in the glade so you can just sit down and clear your head for a moment.

"<Master, are you-"

"I'm fine."

It takes you a second to realise that you snarled that with your mouth instead of your thoughts, and that on top of everything else is enough to spike your anger up even more. The thought that Archer didn't deserve that writhing its way past that haze of red doesn't help your mood.

Once you've reached the tree you'd been gunning for, you flop down and sit with your back against it, breathing in and out as deeply as you can. You're calmer after just a few seconds, the years of learning how to meditate and control yourself coming in handy now that you're not caught off guard from Marie Antoinette giving you life advice, and as soon as you're able you reach back out with your mind.

<"Archer? I'm fine. I'm sorry.">

<"I apologise for my insolence, Master. I will do better in the future.">

You grit your teeth, strands of grass ripping from the ground below as you ball your hand into a fist. Marie's words flicker through your head, and the petulant thought that you wouldn't have lashed out at Archer if the queen hadn't provoked you first is pathetic enough that even in your anger, you can tell it's bullshit. If it hadn't been her, it would have been Goemon, or Sanson, or maybe even Dumas or Jeanne.

It wasn't the killing that did it to you, you have to remind yourself. Not just the killing, anyway. Even so, she had...something of a point. You reach out again, doing your best to make your thoughts sound as gentle and apologetic as you can.

<"No, Archer, that was my fault. I was angry because of- it doesn't matter, it was my fault. You didn't do anything wrong.">

A moment passes without response, then another. Just when your stomach starts to twist with worry, you hear her voice again.

<"...If you are certain, Master. Please do not hesitate to tell me if I have displeased you in any way, however. I swear that I will do better if I need to.">

<"I will. I promise.">

That's probably the best you're going to get. It digs into you, frustration at Archer's bizarre behavior twisting up with anger at your own inability to control yourself, but you need to- to focus on the mission. That's all.

That's all.

When your heartbeat scales back down to something approaching normal, you open your eyes and glance back from behind the tree. Circe materialized at some point, floating up above and basking in the sunlight without a care for how Avenger's wards point and gawp, and the sight of it draws a small smile from you. Talking with her again probably wouldn't be good for you, not when you still have a bit of time to try to be productive, but seeing her so carefree despite what you're here to do does relax you a little.

Everything else is as you left it, no sign of Niamh or Avenger, or of Jeanne coming to march you all out of the glade at that. You've plenty of work to get done today, not in the least finally connecting to Chaldea, but for the moment you'd be best served by doing something instead of just twiddling your thumbs.

[ ] Speak with Goemon. You've been putting this off too long, you need some sort of understanding to work with the man. Bad mood or no, it's good sense.

[ ] Speak with Sanson. Even if you're mad at her, you can't deny that Marie might have had some semblance of a point. Maybe talking with Sanson would help you sort that whole mess out.

[ ] Speak with Dumas. He's the only one still there you haven't personally spoken with yet, and it might help to get a feel for what sort of man he is.

[ ] Wake your sister. Frankly, the idea of having to put things off because Niamh overslept in that stupid bed is already giving you a headache. Making sure she's up can't hurt anything except your mood.