Well. There's not much use in putting it off. When Medea wakes up, with one bad throw of the dice she could decide to make life in Chaldea even more stressful than it already is. And besides, you're the one who dragged her out of the hollow world rather than let her be at peace. The least you can do is make sure her new 'accomodations' don't feel as prison-like as they could.
You go to the lift which seems to be growing more familiar by the hour, taking only a few seconds to hunt down and press the 'B4' button. As the lift descends you begin to wonder why your trips have been so solitary. Surely with enough staff to equal or outmatch the intended Master count, you'd be bumping into them all the time? It then occurs to you that your explorations of the ground floor have essentially been contained to a one-corridor-radius from your room and that a facility this size would naturally have more than one lift. As your mind wanders, you wonder what kind of surprises B1 and B2 hold in store. You suspect they would be intensely disappointing compared to the FATE system core on B6 that summoned a Servant for you via computers.
The doors open. B4 is just as it was described to you. Storage space, row upon row of identical grey doors. You peer through the window of one; a pallet of plastic-wrapped boxes, 'Rations' you think the label says. An army marches on its stomach and other such sayings. Your stomach growls. Maybe you should have stopped for breakfast on the way down. Seems Demi-Servant-hood brings all the drawbacks of having a physical body. Still, too late for that now. You follow the corridor in search of your 'second recruit'.
You come upon a central room of sorts, other doors branching off into other corridors all around you. You see four little black bubbles of plastic or glass sitting on the ceiling. You think you can see lenses within, lit by the light strips beside them. Leonardo's idea of a familiar spy network? The room feels incredibly bare with all the supplies moved. Nothing at all to focus on but the large transparent cube thrown together in the centre. You step forward, press one hand against the side. Plastic as clear as glass, but refusing to yield even as you slowly increase the pressure to Servant levels. Leonardo knows her craft.
The inside of the cube is indeed a lot like your room. All the furniture is exactly the same, right down to the books on the shelf. The woman herself is lying on the bed, as limp as a ragdoll. It takes a careful eye to discern the rise and fall of her chest. She really is out. How could her mana deprivation be that bad? If you brought her back through the Leyshift then there must be some kind of connection, right? Perhaps... You let your circuits flow, flexing the spiritual energy inside of you like a muscle, and feed Medea a trickle of od like threading a needle. Four gets a more secure grip on your shoulder, muscle slowly tensing beneath the fur.
She stirs. You feel a bolt of satisfaction at your success, but stifle it quickly. You aren't going to leave anything to chance. You channel the power expertly, restoring life to Medea's unconscious body. Returning strength to her muscles. You hear a sigh of exhalation, the rustle of her robes as she moves. She rises slowly, ponderously, her face still hidden within the shadows of her hood. She looks right. She looks left. She looks at you, and stands.
"How long was I unconscious?" she asks.
"The night," you reply. "It seems the combination of the fight with Saber Alter and the Leyshift left you with almost nothing left. The contract between us seems incomplete, somehow. The flow of mana isn't natural."
Medea fails to react to Four's presence at all, or at least not in a fashion you can see. Perhaps she just assumes he's your familiar. You're glad to have him. His warm weight on your shoulder keeps you rooted, makes it easier to withstand her shadowed stare without quailing.
"Of course not. Forming a contract with a Servant is more in-depth than simply reaching out to one another." Medea strides forward, stopping a few inches from the edge of her prison. "You may tell your colleagues that I am no threat. Not as long as magical energy in excess of merely existing requires a conscious decision from you."
"Can we not just complete the contract?" you ask. "Then you would get the energy you need."
"And then what? Take me into another battleground?" You don't need to see Medea's eyes to know the kind of look she's giving you. "In that hollow world you told me that you would give me a reason to continue living. You told me that I would be invaluable to the war against a man who wants to wipe out history. Pretty words. But perhaps those were all they were. Perhaps you, like any magus of your generation, simply could not abide by the disappearance of a specimen like me. A perfectly-preserved relic of a time you cling to so desperately. Perhaps you merely want me for my dagger. Am I wrong?"
You are a magus. Raised properly. You keep your emotions tightly controlled. You have practice. As much practice as Medea. The silence stretches on. You meet her 'gaze', staring into the shadows of that hood. You can't falter now. Not against your own choices. Not against yourself.
But what were you, to have saved her? Coldly practical, or foolishly sentimental?
"I suppose the answer does not really matter," she says at last. "A contract cannot be forced, and drained as I am it would take days to restore me to my full potential at the current rate. I would be useless in the field. So for now, I am little more than an aesthetically pleasing basement fixture."
She watches you again. Studying your face. You weather it.
"I'll speak to Einzbern and Matou about your accommodations. If what you say is true, there should be no danger in giving you a workshop and allowing you to roam freely," you say. Medea's head tilts slightly.
"You do not fear the havoc I may still have the power to wreak?" Mana coalesces. Blue sparks solidify into a jagged lightning bolt of pearl in her fist. "Rule-Breaker's needs are small."
"The strain of taking a Servant would be too much for you."
"I would have time. Time to do with the stolen Servant what I pleased. Imagine what I could do if allowed even the slightest chance to take the Caster responsible for this repulsive Territory I sense? I could still destroy this place. I have done more with less."
"But why would you?" you ask.
"The better question is, at what point will I be forced to do such a thing?" Medea dismisses Rule-Breaker, letting her hand drop to her side. All at once you realize how much you've assumed about the witch, having known her for hours at most. You realize that, given her namesake, Einzbern and Matou and Luvia's suspicion could be (and seemingly is) entirely rational.
But right now, she's powerless and in a box.
"This is a... transitional period for all of us," you say at last, picking and choosing your words carefully. "Uvall nearly destroyed this place before we wound up following him into your world. The losses are fresh. The pain makes distrust easier. I believe the situation will improve, given time. But time is what it needs. So, please. Be patient for just a little while longer."
"Very well, then. I will be patient. That much is owed."
The air feels stuffy. You haven't budged an inch ever since the conversation started. Your muscles are starting to ache. You incline your head. "If that is all, I should get to work on your arrangements."
"I thought you had a world to save," Medea replies languidly. She turns and slowly strolls back to her bed, taking a seat. "But if you have the time, I would at least like something to read. Or to be knocked out again. Either way, mercy from boredom."
"I will see what I can do."
You turn and walk away from Medea, strides kept measured and casual. Once you're through the doorway and out of sight, however, you lean up against a nearby wall and just catch your breath. You don't know how you expected it to go, but certainly not like that. You just don't understand how she can be so brazen - does she want you to distrust her? And can you really afford to waste time in a war against a man who wants all of humanity dead just to deal with one Servant? One who's already admitted to being reluctant to help? You knuckle your forehead. At least you kept it together. You're confident you never showed any cracks. An A-, you surmise. Room for improvement, but still exceptional.
"I did well, all things considered. Didn't I?" you say.
"Four!" Four agrees enthusiastically.
"Alright. Let's see what else we can do before the briefing..." You fish the phone out of your pocket and check the time. 8:30. Lots to do, and rapidly-dwindling time with which to do it.
[ ] See Leonardo on B5.
[ ] Find a private place to speak to Rider.
[ ] Call the meeting and introduce Saber.
[ ] See Dr. Matou on the ground floor.
[ ] See Einzbern on the ground floor.
[ ] See Luvia on B3.
[ ] Go looking for Marche.
[ ] Go investigate the 'pest problem'.
by a story post no less!
