Dinner I-II
Mathen57
Shotgun for a brain
- Location
- Jakarta, Indonesia
[X] Sįft through more of your memories, what else is hidden inside your head? (Chances of being interrupted by one of the captains)
-[X] The shy goddess
La Pucelle...she died for you. For what? Why? What did that idiot seek to do? She should've left you to die.
This particular memory ends with you entering oblivion, as you close your eyes for what you thought would be for the last time.
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You feel a sort of tightness in your chest as you stare blankly into your food, an assortment of prawns, crabs, and fish flanked by leafy vegetables. With golden cutlery in hand, you stab at your dinner with more force than you intended, the claws of the crab crumble under your assault while the prawns look onwards with petrified fear. Or at least with as much fear a cooked corpse can show.
The silly image brings about a subtle smirk, a small escape from the thoughts in your head that roil like stormy seas. As always, your moment of respite crumbles in no time, just when you were about to taste a sliver of what others call, "peace of mind". Instead, reality chokes it out of you, until the very word "peace" is retched out of your throat, leaving only a burning, bitter taste that stays and never goes.
Now you're left with two companions, confusion and frustration, the latter a byproduct of the former, caused by a revelation from a missing memory (which in it of itself has uncomfortable implications) that create important questions without giving the clues to its answers.
Questions like, "Why did the other you save you? How would it even be possible? La Pucelle is a potent Noble Phantasm, but surely there must be limits?"
"Did she still think you were redeemable after all that happened back in Uruk? She can't be that idiotic or naive! Can she?"
"ughh, why can't you find the answers to questions that are literally about you? How dense are you?"
Before you could spiral downwards into madness, the boisterous laugh of a certain Araquo pulls you out of the vortex of thoughts. You look to see him standing atop a table as if this sacred hall was some tavern. The stiffer captains, the ones with Vogoros, seem to be visibly disgusted by this unsavoury display, all the while Araquo's fellow captains lean towards him, entranced by his story and theatricality.
You listen carefully to his next words.
"- And the bloody pricks stabbed themselves the moment we took the guard tower. The ones that didn't have blades... well they jumped onto the nearest sharp point they could find, pitchforks, our spears, and some other. And let me tell you, the mess they made was something like the Elephant stables after a romp. See its not the sweat and baby-batter that makes up the mess, but the thrashing about. Walls gets cracked, the roof crumbles, their food gets stepped on."
"So like your bedroom after a night with that Hyrkoon girl of yours," one of the captains around Araquo remarks, followed by bouts of laughter.
Araquo shoots back with feigned anger. "And you keep your mouth shut Virys! I can still smell your wife's arse every time you open it."
"You calling me an asskisser?" The captain replies with a single eyebrow raised.
"Do you kiss what you eat?" followed by a loud back and forth of friendly jabs that you tune out of.
………………hm
You're starting to regret listening in honestly…really didn't need to hear all of that.
Though looking (rather than hearing) the scene before you tug something at the recesses of your mind. There's a familiarity to it, this camaraderie between soldiers that cares not for the opinion of others. It reminds you of a scene in Chaldea, and slowly a memory crystallizes lattice by lattice. Though this scene isn't the focus of this particular memory, its what came after that scene that's important to you.
Sat at the corner booth of Chaldea's cafeteria turned restaurant is you. Sipping the scalding coffee in your hands without a break and stewing at a perceived offence that had occurred earlier. Some third-rate servant had the gall to interrupt your rampage in a minor singularity, said that you were out of control. You very much wanted to kill the offender where he stood, but you didn't. You restrain yourself from killing him, for you would die a mad dog's death if you did. Hunted and chased after until your every atom is obliterated. That's something you can't let happen. It'd make every effort that brought you here mean nothing, a waste. You didn't crawl back into existence only to die the same way you did in Orleans, a mad dog without a leash. No, you're here because you desire to be something better, to be superior. So you stay your hand and brood, watching the other servants passively, all the while the fire in your heart burns.
One scene reels your attention in by the noise created. At one of the circular tables of the "restaurant" is Arturia's band of knights. Gawain, that blonde gorilla, sits next to Tristan, listening to the latter's story of his time before serving under Arturia.
Speaking of Arturia, the King of Knights herself sits across Gawain and holds a subtle smile. She regales to an increasingly embarrassed Bedivere her thanks and compliments for his part in that troublesome Camelot Singularity. Mordred, on the other hand, sits awkwardly and diminutively beside Arturia, contributing a word or two in the King and her white-haired knight's conversation. You note how unnerving it is to see that boastful knight reduced into this shy wallflower of a girl, especially in the presence of her...father? Mother? You can't be bothered.
Strangely enough, you don't see Lancelot among them. Perhaps he's busy skirt-chasing in the halls----
"Hey"
Wait, no, that can't be it. You've heard through the grapevine that Paracelsus was working towards eliminating Lancelot's mad enhancement, maybe even change his class. Good for him, if it works out.
"um...Hello?"
You've never met the caster personally, but you have heard of his achievements. If there's anyone able to fix Lancelot's dilemma, it'd be h---
"Excuse me!"
A grimace mars your face as you look up to the loud woman in-front of you. Rivers of golden hair cascades down to her ankles. Piercing crimson eyes scrutinize you with authority as you feel the weight of its stare.
The Goddess of Death herself, the prideful mistress of the underworld, demands your attention. With a pout and her hands at her hips, Ereshkigal looms over you with a frosty stare.
"You were talking to me?" You ask
"Who else was I talking to!?"
That petulant voice of hers grates your ears, destroying the aura of authority that she effortlessly emanated. You glance left and right to see that there's no one near you and your booth.
"Oh...well, Saying my name would've sufficed." You say, neutrally.
Ereshkigal huffs at that, "It's not my fault you zoned-out."
You are definitely not in the mood for whatever this goddess is doing. You bring your palm to your temple to massage it and restrain yourself from outright whacking Ereshkigal.
"I don't have time for this, say what you want and go bother someone else." You say.
"What I want?" she says with surprise on her face. Almost like she didn't expect you to say that.
"Did I stutter?" you reply
"An apology."
"What?" Apology for what? You've barely seen the goddess at all, what kind of offence could you have possibly committed against her?
"Sorry, did I stutter?" sarcasm oozes out of her voice as she crosses her arms, "I said, I want an apology."
You really, really want to just go over your table and whack her, the smugness is unbearable. It's a shame there are other servants here, you'd gladly slap that prim face of hers without reservation.
"An apology for what?" You say with gritted teeth
"Oh I don't know, maybe leaving me to die could be one thing to apologize for, you inconsiderate fool." Ereshkigal brings a hand to her head in exasperation, "Running off to fight Ibaraki, disobeying explicit orders, leaving me to fight off an army of Onis... You're like a glory-hound who doesn't listen." The goddess lectured.
Ah yes, that mess in Rashomon a day or two ago. That was one of the more fun singularities. Just you and something to burn, and a good fight too. You have fond memories of bringing down Ibaraki, it's a shame you were stopped before you could deal the final blow.
You half-remember abandoning Ereshkigal too, which was something your master had given you a slap on the wrist for, but nothing more.
"You survived at least, so I don't see what you're crying about," you say
"Crying!?" Ereshkigal's face becomes a scandalized red.
"Besides, shouldn't a goddess like you be able to take down an army? Your kind has always been so boastful about your godly powers that you practically never shut up about. Was it all lies then? A front for your ego?"
"My strengths are not what's in question here, witch. It is merely that my pride as a goddess won't let you get away from committing such a thing again! If you don't see what's wrong with leaving a partner behind and apologize, you're no better than a mad dog."
Now that gets you to stand up. You smash your hands on your table as you ascend and lean towards her. Speaking with gritted teeth you say, "You can call me anything you'd like, but a dog isn't one of them." You give her a deadly glare as your eyes lock into hers as a battle of wills begins.
"And what will you do exactly? Cut me to bits? Feed me to Fou? You think I don't know that Chaldea keeps you on a short leash, Jeanne? Besides if you don't see the error in your ways and apologize - actually no, just apologizing isn't enough. If you don't grovel on the floor and beg for forgiveness, then it's a leash well deserved, dog."
Now all you see is red, and your skin burns hotly as the fire in you threaten to escape and devour. Your right hand seeks St.Catherine's handle as the sword itself readies to be summoned by you.
"Cut it out you two, that's enough" EMIYA sternly says as he approaches the two of you, "You're disturbing everyone."
You breathe slows as the world morphs to its original colour. You look around to see many servants stare at you, ready for a fight to break out. Arturia and her knights stare at you too, their hands reaching for their weapons.
You want to fight them, burn them all if you can. But it wouldn't be worth it now, would it?
"Tch." You say as you shove past Ereshkigal and walk into the hallways.
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Slash! Srrrinngggg!
Ghostly apparition after ghostly apparition dissipates as St.Catherine cleaves them to bits. Meanwhile, you let loose wild flames unto groups of wraiths, cleansing the area around the cathedral that you stand on top of. You jump down to the street and kill the final ghost as the town becomes bereft of the moans and groans of the undead.
You breathe in, taking in the air as the moon reaches its zenith. There's this cathartic feeling of a job well done and the act of mowing down enemies. Doing this has dulled the potency of your anger as you feel a sort of release.
You look around and note the empty streets and the abandoned carts still storing goods. Bourges... this town was once called, a bustling centre of trade that situated south of Orlèans. Now there's no one alive to speak its name, not even the guards, the shopkeepers, the priests, the women, and even the children. All of them turned to ash during the advent of wyverns and the great dragon. Your dragon. Your Fafnir.
Their blood and the blood of many more stain your sickly pale hands. Orléans, Paris, Vaucouleurs, La Charité, Lyon, Thiers...each and every one burnt and defiled by you. A mountain of corpses for each city.
No...no that's not right, your hands are clean is it not? They're not the same hands that perpetrated these massacres. The version of you that conquered France was someone else entirely, someone whose memories and mannerisms you've inherited.
The you that was wished into existence by Gilles is different from the present you. Her wishes were Gilles's wishes, her hatred was his hatred too. Now you're free, and like a cockroach, you refuse oblivion and encroached the Throne of Heroes to carve out an existence for yourself. Now your wish is your own to make, but the hate that drives you shackles you still. There's still Gilles's mark within you, and it cannot be undone.
But... You're different, in every sense of the word. Yet despite that, despite being reborn and given new purpose.....
You halt that train of thought.
You redirect your focus on purging the inhabitants of Bourges yet again. The irony doesn't escape you, history doesn't repeat, but it rhymes. Now undead, the ghostly forms of the inhabitants are anchored into the world by their own anger and despair. Shackled.
You're not sure why you do this, purging French city after French city of the ghosts you've created. The French singularity is slowly being repaired, made evident to you by the structures that had suddenly been rebuilt. Da Vinci and the director knows what they're doing, and they're effective. What you're doing isn't helping them in any major way. You doubt a few wraiths here and there would disrupt the repair process, so you're not doing this to be of use to Chaldea right?
Is it for atonement? You're not sure.
Duty then...you purge the wraiths because it is your duty... No, that's not right either. Whatever it is, you feel that you'll find the answer once every ghost in France is abolished.
A single skeletal finger rises out of the ground, creating huge cracks in the brick road. Before you could process it, a massive weight wraps around you and constricts your arms and legs. You don't bother to look back to see your assailant for you know what they are.
You will four black spears into existence, they hover over you before descending onto the hand that holds you. The spears shatters the arm and you are set free. You turn around with St.Catherine in hand just in time to block a slash from one of the ghost's arms and dodge a jab from another.
Now that you're facing it, you have a clear view of your enemy. A single floating torso with four arms and a lack of legs. Skulls fill the ribcages, as a veil covers its giant head. Massive Ghosts, this enemy is creatively called. Troublesome for a group of servants, lethal against one.
But you're Jeanne D'arc, and your legend spreads far and wide. This fact makes you stronger than a single average servant, so you're confident you can defeat this ghost.
You close your hand into a fist and will your fire into existence. The ghost is engulfed in a pillar of scorching flames, but you doubt it was a lethal strike. Meanwhile, you hop onto one of the roofs and ready yourself to launch at the enemy. You form several black spears behind you as you begin to run, they follow you as you charge. The fire dissipates, and the ghost turns towards you and slashes the air, creating sharp gusts of winds that you've seen amputate limbs.
You weather the attack and keep running as your armour is scratched in every place. You reach the edge of a roof and jump. Your sudden ascent breaks the brick tiles as you poise to impale with St.Catherine.
The ghost attempts to grasp you midair, but your spears intercept the three remaining arms. You fall onto it with impunity. You plant St.Catherine onto its head and use the blade as a conduit for your flames. Fire fills its entire skull and melts some part of it as the alabaster bone dissolves under the extreme heat. It doesn't thrash in pain as it doesn't feel pain at all, and before you could melt its head fully, an arms grabs you and throws you away. You were simply too slow.
You crash through building after building, brick and wood impacts your back repeatedly. You gain back your footing shortly and dash out of the debris to spot the ghost some blocks ahead of you. It detects you and slashes at the air again, but this time the sharp winds don't hit you. You've dodged out of the way and onto the rooftops. Continuing to evade its attacks by hopping from roof to roof.
The ghost brings its three hands together and does...something, you can't really tell, all you see are the black circles formed at each of its palms. But suddenly you feel fatigued, weakened even. As if you're unable to do half the things your powers allow you to do. You've slowed down severely, and you're assaulted by the ghost's wind attacks, chipping away at your armour and cutting into your skin. Blood drips down from your forehead to your eye as you see the Massive Ghost hover closer to you.
The ghost raises it's remaining arms up to slash at you. The arms descend, but before it strikes you, two skeletal heads rise suddenly from the ground and chomps at the ghost. From what you could surmise, the skeletal heads seem to resemble the skulls of dinosaurs. One head bites the Massive Ghost's right shoulder while another bites the ghost's skull. Their teeth find a foothold and both ancient beasts pull against one another as the ghost is ripped in half. Bones fly as the gargantuan spirit is split into two. The beastly pair descend into the ground and disappears.
Silence reigns and the city is quiet again. The bones dissipate into dust, and the only reminder of the fight was the ruined buildings surrounding you.
You hear the click-clack of boots and look back to see that smug goddess again. Ereshkigal is dressed in her usual black gown decorated with golden linings and golden skulls. In her hand is that disproportionate double-sided monstrosity of a glaive, with one end painted predominantly white and the other painted black.
"My my," She says, "I believe you owe me more than an apology."
You stand up and wipe off the blood off your brow, "I owe you shit." You respond between breaths.
Ereshkigal frowns at that," the ingratitude...".
"How'd you find me here, anyway? Did Davinci tell you?"
Ereshkigal shakes her head, "You weren't anywhere in Chaldea, so I supposed you were in one of the singularities. Considering your origins, it was an obvious choice." She shrugs.
Ereshkigal crosses her arms and sighs, "Listen... about last week..."
"What about last week?" you spit out.
She shakes her head then opens and closes her mouth as she struggles to speak, as if choking on the very words that threaten to leave her mouth. "I...have wronged you, as I conducted myself in ways ill befitting of a goddess. I had a legitimate grievance with you but... confronting you like that was not the ideal way of handling it. Thus I am obliged to ask if you can forgive me."
"Oh? And what has made you seen the error of your ways?"
"EMIYA, he gave me quite the lecture after our...talk... And considering he has intimate knowledge of this human vessel that I possess, a lot of his words rang true. I didn't believe him at first, but after a few days of back and forth, I realize I was in the wrong. Which explains me being here, apologizing to you."
"You think I'll accept an apology from a stuck up bitch like you?" You scoff and then ask, "How far up your ass was that silver spoon of yours to create an outburst like that?"
"I believe it was you that had an outburst, but I digress. To answer your question, it is because I'm a goddess." She begins to lecture, "And a goddess has to look after her image. If she doesn't, she will gain no one to worship her, and without worshippers, a goddess cannot be called a god at all. Any insult to me must be dealt with swiftly and completely so so as to maintain my image, and your abandoning of me was very insulting indeed. My pride would not have allowed it to stand unpunished, you understand? That's why I went off on you like that."
You scoff at that, "You're even more deranged than I am then. You won't find worship here in Chaldea, so just stop this facade of godhood or whatever you want to call it."
She speaks slowly, as if it pains her to say each word, "Yes, I'm beginning to realize the futility of finding worshipers." she admits, which is unusual to you. You did not expect her to concede to your point. "We're equals now, as much as I don't want to admit it. Looking down on you and the others is not...conducive to having me fit in Chaldea. A fact which EMIYA has made very clear to me." her eyes move down as her air of haughtiness diminishes, "I'm one of the new arrivals if you haven't noticed, so I've been trying to break out of these old habits I once had. Plus, this vessel's personality has mixed with mine, and it has created...difficulties."
"A goddess who can't adapt well? What else is new? And you chose to possess this vessel, didn't you? Then you don't have the right to complain." Ereshkigal frowns at that, her cheeks reddening, "besides, bring up your troubles to EMIYA, not me. I can't give two shits on the issues that made you a bitch. And no, I won't accept your apology because EMIYA told you so. So go." You make a shooing motion with your hand.
"Then how can I get you to forgive me."
That...throws you off quite a bit. Resorting to begging now isn't she? You're not sure if she's genuinely guilty or if it's because of something else. Maybe there's something you're not getting here? It could just be due to embarrassment, you posit, you'd feel mighty ashamed if you acted as petulantly as she did yesterday. So maybe she's finding closure in that shameful episode by apologizing to you. It could be something else entirely... All-in-all...you don't get it. So you respond in the best way you know how.
"You can grovel and eat dirt. I'll forgive you after that."
Ereshkigal's face fumes at your request, "Listen here you ingrate! I'm trying to-" Ah, that's the Ereshkigal you know...She takes a sudden breath, silence reigns in until the Queen of Irkalla continues to speak, "Maybe I can I do you a favour." She says with gritted teeth, swallowing her pride and speaking each word with difficulty, "Have me do something to earn your forgiveness."
Pardon...?
You raise an eyebrow, contemplating on what she just said. You open your mouth to reply, but she cuts you off.
"The favour of a goddess is not something you should spend gratuitously."
You frown at that. Even when the goddess herself is apologizing she still finds a way to make it seem like a high honour...how entitled, "What's it to you if I accept your apology. Just go. We can forget all about this."
"It's because I've made a mistake and wronged you without a proper reason. So I'm compelled to make it right."
"That's remarkably childish coming from a god." You're starting to get annoyed by her persistence. What a futile thing to do, to get an Avenger to forgive is to go against their very nature. You cross your arms and attempt to get her off your case, "look, we've wronged each other for stupid reasons, right? That should make us even, no need to owe favours for each other."
"No, that makes us equally wrong." You bring your palm to your face in exasperation. What's the deal with her anyway?! This is a total hundred-and-eighty degree turn in personality, but despite that she's still unbearable to talk to. "Don't misunderstand, I'm not being altruistic Jeanne, I absolutely expect you to apologize in return." She explains "Oh!" She seems to have an epiphany. "Maybe I can assist you as a form of an apology."
"Assist me in what?"
"In purging the ghosts. That is what you're doing right?"
Immediately you reply, "No."
"No?"
"It's my duty, and no one else's. Only I'm responsible for these ghosts."
"Uh-uh, and you seem to have it all under control, don't you? I'm sure that massive ghost was no more than a nuisance." You flush a beet red, she continues, "How many cities have you purged so far?"
"two, Bourges and Lyon."
"And when did you start this campaign of yours?" she drawls.
"A few weeks back."
Ereshkigal shakes her head, "tsk, tsk. By the time you finish, Solomon would be long gone, and all the singularities would be fixed by then. "
You grimace, "I-" She interrupts you, fully expecting what you were going to say.
"Yes-yes, it's a deep and personal journey in which you don't truly know the reason why you've embarked it. But you're sure that the answer lies at the end of said journey." She speaks in a bored tone, "Look, I will not interfere in your search, or take over your duties. It's obvious from your face that you're afraid that I might take away that answer by doing the work for you. I will not. I'm assisting to expedite the process, not babysit you all the way. "
"Tch, all of this for an apology?"
"It's a matter of principle. Now I believe you owe me a favour of your own too?"
You narrow your eyes, "I'll do what you'll ask for if it's within reason. If you're gonna force me to get your help, then whatever. But don't think I'll be in your debt for this. I'll only return a favour for a favour, but that's it."
"Good, I'm glad we have an understanding." She nods her head, "Now, I'm going to need your help on something, a conquest of my own you can say. A delicate one too, since it pertains to the matter of the heart."
"the heart?" You're not too sure where this is going.
Ereshkigal closes the distance between you and her. She smiles a small smile, "You're going to help me win Ritsuka's heart."
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"Hey" Araquo's voice brings you out of your stupor. The man brings out what he thinks to be his most dashing smile as he drags a chair towards your table. He smells of alcohol and sweat. This is...quite the annoyance. "What's our hero doing here in her lonesome?"
"Reminiscing." You say neutrally, Araquo raises an eyebrow, so you try to steer the conversation somewhere else before he asks any unfortunate questions "and indulging myself in this feast."
Araquo leans a bit towards you on his chair, "Well if anyone deserves rests its most certainly you." He bows his head "My lady" He sure is laying it a bit thick now, isn't he? You're not sure how to respond to such blatant...um...whatever this is called. It's not like you have a dearth of experience to draw upon and your memory's been a bit unreliable...maybe you should ask Saber about it? Actually no, that'd be a bad idea.
"Didn't I tell you to call me Jeanne? I'm no lady in any sense of the word," you say with some small amount of irritation. You attempt to contemplate ways to shoo him without acting brutish or overly violent, only to come up with nothing. You're not really good with the subtleties of civil conversation you realize.
You really wish you could conjure up some fire, say your usual lines, and shoo him away, but that'd make an enemy out of Saber you think. Scaring her officers with magic would earn you more than empty threats, if not a fight. Tch, that bitch has so many intricate schemes that anything you'd want to do would make them fall apart. Then she'll get all rankled and maybe kill you out of spite. Well, she could try anyway, but with Lera recovering you don't think it's wise to fight her now. You've resolved to not get Lera killed or enslaved, and if you do die (though minuscule a chance), then that's it for her. Besides, she's proven her use so far.
Tch, since when did you become so restrained! You've got Lera's wellbeing to keep in mind coupled with whatever that stupid bitch Arturia wants you to do, or not do. Hell, that's not even counting the fact that there might be dangerous servants in the midst and that you've got a Grail to find!
You long for the simpler times when there was a clear enemy to burn. Either in Orleans or the other singularities, your resolve was never clouded nor doubted. You knew what to do, and you did them well. Now you feel like some lost pup dragged around by a tidal wave of complications that you'd rather burn away, it'd be easy to do so.
But that sort of thing, isn't really you, not anymore. You're better now.
"Ah, tis a shame for a woman such as you to not be able to find the beauty within one's self". Ughhh, and then there's this man to deal with. You're left a bit off balance and at a loss of what to say...Should you outright tell him off or would that only embolden him? He seems like that kind of man, you think. You don't really know, most of the men you were close with back in Chaldea were either mad or insane. Well, if worse comes to worst, there's always fire. Damn what Saber thinks.
You're about to open your mouth to tell him off, but Araquo's companions appear behind him.
"Araquo, stop bothering the lass. Wasn't this the same woman that dragged you by the hair?" You look to the one who said it, a stocky man with rough sandpaper-like skin, and an old deep scar across his right cheek. The cut probably comes from his chin considering how sharp it is, you muse sarcastically, or the pointed nose. He looks at you with judging stoic eyes that size you up from head-to-toe. He speaks to you with a voice that is guttural and gravelly, which brings with it a sort of intensity. "Forgive Araquo for his persistence lass, he is hopeless when it comes to dangerous women. "The man looks back to Araquo with an amused smirk, "And especially when he's drunk.". You recognize some kind of accent in his voice, an accent that is somewhere between Italian and Spanish.
"I see," you reply.
The man speaks again, "So you're this Jeanne I've heard about?". You nod. "From the way Araquo described you, I had expected someone utterly divine."
divine...what a disgusting word that is, "Sorry to disappoint." You say.
"Oh, on the contrary, you've exceeded my expectations. You're better looking than all the nobles in this forsaken place. But can you fight as well as Araquo described I wonder? I can only suspend my disbelief for so long."
Another man within the group speaks up, "Challenging her to a fight before introducing yourself? You sure work fast."
The scarred man's eyes widen at that, "my apologies," he brings a hand to his chest and slightly bows his head towards you," Jaedar, a pleasure." Well, at least he has some semblance of manners.
You nod back, "Jeanne, just Jeanne. Not lady, madam, nor ma'am. Which is a fact our dear friend Araquo seemed to have forgotten."
That rouses a small chuckle from the men around him as Araquo's eyes widen. The man speaks again with a smirk, "Araquo is not known for his memory..." His eyes scrunch, as if searching for the words to say, "Forgive me but... if I may ask, how long have you and the boy captain have known each other?"
"Too long." you reply vaguely.
That rouses even more chuckles. "Aye," Jaedar says, "the lad can be overwhelming. An odd thing considering he can't be no older than eighteen summers. He is eighteen isn't he? Not sixteen, fourteen, or gods forbid twelve?"
You nod, "Something like that. He's definitely older than sixteen, why do you ask?"
"Well, it embarrasses men like us when boys like him show us up. It's a relief to know that he isn't a mere child."
Araquo speaks up, "It's strange isn't it? How'd a boy like him get so strong and smart too? One day it was that hard prick Adario who was this garrison's star, then comes this yellow-eyed blue-blooded prick that Maegyr hired from fuck all. We thought he was employed because Maegyr was some cradle-snatching boy-lover, and dressed the lad up in full Targaryen black. We thought the kid was the type to piss his breeches when a real battle starts, well... till he started swinging his sword around."
"Araquo," Jaedar admonishes, "You shouldn't speak like that, not here."
, "Right," Araquo replies, barely giving Jaedar any attention, " so what is he to you anyway? Ye ain't lovers, are you?"
You spit your crab onto the dish out of shock and the sheer disgust of the thought. Jaedar puts his hand on Araquo's shoulder, "Have you no tact? Maybe we should bring you outside to sober up. Araquo." He gives Araquo's shoulder a squeeze.
The men around them chuckle at your reaction, but you do get some curious stares. Best not to leave their curiosity unfulfilled, lest they try to find answers themselves.
"We're cousins." You say, after schooling your features.
"Huh." Araquo says neutrally, "I see, you're from a noble family I take it?"
"My mother was, but not my father, he was a travelling bard."
"Bard?" One of the other men comments, "Sounds like a Westorosi or Free Cities thing."
"Anyways, I was the product of that relationship. Arturia's mother, my aunt, on the other hand, married a noble. And as cousins, we never had an easy relationship, but we're still bound by blood. That's all, the end. Hope that satisfies you all."
Araquo nods and before he speaks, Saber herself comes into the dining hall with Adario in tow. Every captain in the hall stand to salute as Saber emanates authority with her piercing gaze. "Captains," She says, "you are to follow Ardario, he will take you to the Triarchs who will assign you all new orders. Now go."
Araquo stumbles a bit until Jaedar supports him out of the dining hall. The rest of Araquo's group leaves with the two, so does Vogoros's group and Va..Ve..the barrel-chested man's group. They leave the dining hall in a quick pace.
Saber doesn't follow them; instead, she comes to you, "Jeanne, with me." she asks. You follow her out to the gardens.
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You and Saber stop in a gazebo in the middle of the gardens, surrounded by an assortment of Yellow Carnations, blooming red Amaryllises, and orange Dahlias. There are pathways made of brick and gravel that wanders and intertwines. The gazebo you and Saber occupy is decorated by carved patterns on the roof and hanging vines.
"What's the matter?" You ask Saber.
Saber stares out onto the garden and answers, "The situation has changed."
"Of course the situation's changed. There was a bloody revolt." You say sarcastically.
"It's more than that, you idiot." she replies, "Did you not think it strange that the Triarchs ordered the captains here in haste? Word has reached their ears of chaos in the north, and it's got them panicking. A Dothraki Khalasar had splintered into bits, and now we've got upstart Khals north of the Volaena river."
Oh, that explains why you were all summoned here. But it pisses you off that you didn't have enough time to root out the cultists more thoroughly. They have been defeated, yes, but not annihilated, which dissatisfies you greatly. You can see why they prioritized the Dothraki threat now that the cultists are practically defeated. But Saber did say that it was a splintered Khalasar, so would it be that much of a threat? Wait...a splintered Khalasar north of the Volaena river...it tugs at your memory.
"Did they tell you which Dothraki Khalasar splintered?" You ask with increasing weariness.
"Yes, it was Forzo's Khalasar that shattered, I believe."
You grimace, Lera was right all along. Having his son at your mercy, forcing yourself onto his home, and crippling him had made him seem weak. From what you've gathered on the Dothraki, the only thing they'll believe is that "might makes right". Thus, Forzo's Khalasar ended the moment you humiliated him and took down his retinue. You made him seem weak, and the weak cannot lead the Dothraki. Now there's only chaos, until someone strong among them takes charge.
You wonder of Forzo's fate, and the fate of his family and that dear friend of his. Will his first wife and son suffer the same fate Lera had?
"I encountered Forzo the day I was summoned here," you tell Saber. She looks back to you with a raised eyebrow, and you continue, "He wanted me in his bed, very insistent about it too, so I crippled him."
Both of Arturia's eyes widen a bit at that, "I'm sure you did more than just cripple." She states. Tch, you hate it when she's perceptive...you wanted to avoid explaining what happened after you crippled him.
"I did." You say vaguely, hoping that she doesn't inquire any further.
"I see...That's where you found Lera too then? She was a slave to the Dothraki?" You nod, "We'll have to keep this to ourselves then, or the Triarchs will be out for your blood." Out for your blood? But you just saved this city!
"What do you mean?" You ask
"Forzo's Khalasar was a better alternative than a dozen smaller ones. Less chaos, better for business. Not only that, one of these remnants have been reported to be riding south of the Volaena. The revolt has made Volantis...disorganized, they will look for desperate options to appease the roaming Khalasar. You'll be caught up in this city's politics the moment they figure out what you did. The two Triarchs of the Elephant party will sell you out to appease the remnant while Maegyr will find a way to permanently recruit you, willingly or not."
"You think he can coerce me into joining? " You ask, "In fact, how'd you know how the other Triarchs will act? I thought you were only associated with Maegyr."
"I don't think Maegyr's able to coerce you but the man's creative and ambitious. He'll find ways to be a thorn on our side. As for the others, well, I've seen them quarrel enough to gauge their characters."
"And what of the Dothraki remnant? How imminent are they?"
"They're not an immediate threat, being at least a week away, but a large one all the same, especially with Volantis in disarray. Once word spreads of the revolt, whoever this new Khal is might leap onto the opportunity to sack this city with impunity."
"It's distressing, but with you as the commander and I the force multiplier, we'd be able to save this city from being totally destroyed, I'm sure of it. Though with the state this city is in now, there might be heavy losses on our side."
Saber shakes her head, " Ignore the wellbeing of Volantis, that's a distraction. Our main objective is finding the Grail, which if the Alter Ego is to be believed, is in Westeros. Involving ourselves in the entanglements of this world's politics would only slow us down. Now that I'm able to afford the journey west, I believe it's time to leave now. Oh, and do not worry about your translator's injuries, I have and can make arrangements for her."
"You did? That's good, and you're right, we have to find the Grail first and foremost. Everything else is secondary, besides this world would be reset when we fix this singularity anyway, or whatever it is now."
Saber smirks at that, "Good, but I wouldn't be too sure of resetting this world's state, this has been an unusual Grail War after all. Now come, we have things to discuss."
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You're back in your room now, glancing at Lera's sleeping form. You saw the stitches running down her abdomen and feel a modicum sense of relief. The healers must've stopped the bleeding that may have come from a ruptured spleen or somesuch, and her stable breath indicates to you her good health. How lucky, it must be the armour you bought her that saved her life, now your only worry is a possible infection.
The room is silent, the fountain now empty of water, since whatever intricate system that maintained the flow of water in the third floor has stopped working. You look out to the balcony to see the moon at its zenith, but you don't stare at it for long. Your eyes, whether consciously or not, dart from left to right in search of that...thing you saw earlier. You wonder if it were some form of projection of a servant, or worse something else. Whatever it is, that being you saw must have some connection to the cultists. Maybe it has the ability to erode the sanity of others? You don't really know, and you stop speculating further.
Your mind brings you back to what Saber had told you after your talk in the Gazebo. There's a ship heading to Westeros that leaves in three days, stopping at Lys before arriving in Sunspear. Saber has already informed the Triarchs of her resignation with Adario as her successor. Thus, the Tyrant will take that ship to head west, with or without you. But to leave the city at the brink of invasion?....
Would the city still stand without two servants to protect it? You're sure that with Volantis trying to rebuild, it has become vulnerable to the Dothraki horde. But the defences and fortification have stood the test of time. You saw with your own eyes the massive black walls, the size of the garrison, and an entire district made only for the said garrison. Thus, it's not like you're sealing Volantis's fate to the horde now, are you? It could be that the Triarchs could also negotiate a truce with the Dothraki and stave off an invasion all-together.
Volantis's fate, you conclude, can go either way without your intervention, but you can never be sure.
The Grail, on the other hand. The artefact needs to be secured and within safe Chaldean hands. You've seen how a Grail can be used in a singularity, hell you've even used one yourself. From summoning dragons to remaking the landscape, Solomon's Grail is a doorway to infinite possibilities to the one that holds it. And as a Chaldean servant, the faster you get the Grail, the better.
Though there is this thought that nags you at the back of your mind. A thought that tempts you to use the Grail for your own purposes. That there is no Chaldea here to shackle you and kill you...
You shake your head, and look out into the balcony.
What to do...
You can choose multiple subvotes at a time.
i.e
[x] Do X
--[X] also do Y
--[X] and Z
[] Stay in Volantis to fight against the Dothraki.
--[] Convince Saber to stay with you
---[] How? (write in...)
--[] Help with the rebuilding effort
---[] volunteer into the Volantean garrison
----[] Do you take a commanding role or no?
---[] Enforce order onto the districts
---[] Ride out and harass the Dothraki
[] Leave with Saber and Lera to Lys.
--[] Shop for supplies and provisions.
--[] Ask one of the garrison officers to come with you (varying chances of success, no guarantee).
--[] Do you hire someone familiar with Dorne (adds a character to party)
--[] Garner information on Dorne (rumours of a Red Apothecary)
--[] Write in...
[] Write-in...
I'm back! Sorry for the two months-long hiatus, had to focus on studies and university applications (which good news I got accepted to some unis!). Thus, I haven't been exactly active on SV, except for the rare moment when I do have time. So have this monstrous 7k chap to compensate for the wait.
Now, the writing might be inconsistent since I wrote this during every weekend in January and some days in Christmas, so the quality might rise and dip as you go. So do please point out any mistakes I've made! And if there's one thing I feel iffy about in this chapter is Jeanne and Ereshkigal's interaction. I'm not entirely satisfied with it, and might edit somethings in when I have the time.
Anyways, hello to a new story arc!
-[X] The shy goddess
La Pucelle...she died for you. For what? Why? What did that idiot seek to do? She should've left you to die.
This particular memory ends with you entering oblivion, as you close your eyes for what you thought would be for the last time.
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You feel a sort of tightness in your chest as you stare blankly into your food, an assortment of prawns, crabs, and fish flanked by leafy vegetables. With golden cutlery in hand, you stab at your dinner with more force than you intended, the claws of the crab crumble under your assault while the prawns look onwards with petrified fear. Or at least with as much fear a cooked corpse can show.
The silly image brings about a subtle smirk, a small escape from the thoughts in your head that roil like stormy seas. As always, your moment of respite crumbles in no time, just when you were about to taste a sliver of what others call, "peace of mind". Instead, reality chokes it out of you, until the very word "peace" is retched out of your throat, leaving only a burning, bitter taste that stays and never goes.
Now you're left with two companions, confusion and frustration, the latter a byproduct of the former, caused by a revelation from a missing memory (which in it of itself has uncomfortable implications) that create important questions without giving the clues to its answers.
Questions like, "Why did the other you save you? How would it even be possible? La Pucelle is a potent Noble Phantasm, but surely there must be limits?"
"Did she still think you were redeemable after all that happened back in Uruk? She can't be that idiotic or naive! Can she?"
"ughh, why can't you find the answers to questions that are literally about you? How dense are you?"
Before you could spiral downwards into madness, the boisterous laugh of a certain Araquo pulls you out of the vortex of thoughts. You look to see him standing atop a table as if this sacred hall was some tavern. The stiffer captains, the ones with Vogoros, seem to be visibly disgusted by this unsavoury display, all the while Araquo's fellow captains lean towards him, entranced by his story and theatricality.
You listen carefully to his next words.
"- And the bloody pricks stabbed themselves the moment we took the guard tower. The ones that didn't have blades... well they jumped onto the nearest sharp point they could find, pitchforks, our spears, and some other. And let me tell you, the mess they made was something like the Elephant stables after a romp. See its not the sweat and baby-batter that makes up the mess, but the thrashing about. Walls gets cracked, the roof crumbles, their food gets stepped on."
"So like your bedroom after a night with that Hyrkoon girl of yours," one of the captains around Araquo remarks, followed by bouts of laughter.
Araquo shoots back with feigned anger. "And you keep your mouth shut Virys! I can still smell your wife's arse every time you open it."
"You calling me an asskisser?" The captain replies with a single eyebrow raised.
"Do you kiss what you eat?" followed by a loud back and forth of friendly jabs that you tune out of.
………………hm
You're starting to regret listening in honestly…really didn't need to hear all of that.
Though looking (rather than hearing) the scene before you tug something at the recesses of your mind. There's a familiarity to it, this camaraderie between soldiers that cares not for the opinion of others. It reminds you of a scene in Chaldea, and slowly a memory crystallizes lattice by lattice. Though this scene isn't the focus of this particular memory, its what came after that scene that's important to you.
Sat at the corner booth of Chaldea's cafeteria turned restaurant is you. Sipping the scalding coffee in your hands without a break and stewing at a perceived offence that had occurred earlier. Some third-rate servant had the gall to interrupt your rampage in a minor singularity, said that you were out of control. You very much wanted to kill the offender where he stood, but you didn't. You restrain yourself from killing him, for you would die a mad dog's death if you did. Hunted and chased after until your every atom is obliterated. That's something you can't let happen. It'd make every effort that brought you here mean nothing, a waste. You didn't crawl back into existence only to die the same way you did in Orleans, a mad dog without a leash. No, you're here because you desire to be something better, to be superior. So you stay your hand and brood, watching the other servants passively, all the while the fire in your heart burns.
One scene reels your attention in by the noise created. At one of the circular tables of the "restaurant" is Arturia's band of knights. Gawain, that blonde gorilla, sits next to Tristan, listening to the latter's story of his time before serving under Arturia.
Speaking of Arturia, the King of Knights herself sits across Gawain and holds a subtle smile. She regales to an increasingly embarrassed Bedivere her thanks and compliments for his part in that troublesome Camelot Singularity. Mordred, on the other hand, sits awkwardly and diminutively beside Arturia, contributing a word or two in the King and her white-haired knight's conversation. You note how unnerving it is to see that boastful knight reduced into this shy wallflower of a girl, especially in the presence of her...father? Mother? You can't be bothered.
Strangely enough, you don't see Lancelot among them. Perhaps he's busy skirt-chasing in the halls----
"Hey"
Wait, no, that can't be it. You've heard through the grapevine that Paracelsus was working towards eliminating Lancelot's mad enhancement, maybe even change his class. Good for him, if it works out.
"um...Hello?"
You've never met the caster personally, but you have heard of his achievements. If there's anyone able to fix Lancelot's dilemma, it'd be h---
"Excuse me!"
A grimace mars your face as you look up to the loud woman in-front of you. Rivers of golden hair cascades down to her ankles. Piercing crimson eyes scrutinize you with authority as you feel the weight of its stare.
The Goddess of Death herself, the prideful mistress of the underworld, demands your attention. With a pout and her hands at her hips, Ereshkigal looms over you with a frosty stare.
"You were talking to me?" You ask
"Who else was I talking to!?"
That petulant voice of hers grates your ears, destroying the aura of authority that she effortlessly emanated. You glance left and right to see that there's no one near you and your booth.
"Oh...well, Saying my name would've sufficed." You say, neutrally.
Ereshkigal huffs at that, "It's not my fault you zoned-out."
You are definitely not in the mood for whatever this goddess is doing. You bring your palm to your temple to massage it and restrain yourself from outright whacking Ereshkigal.
"I don't have time for this, say what you want and go bother someone else." You say.
"What I want?" she says with surprise on her face. Almost like she didn't expect you to say that.
"Did I stutter?" you reply
"An apology."
"What?" Apology for what? You've barely seen the goddess at all, what kind of offence could you have possibly committed against her?
"Sorry, did I stutter?" sarcasm oozes out of her voice as she crosses her arms, "I said, I want an apology."
You really, really want to just go over your table and whack her, the smugness is unbearable. It's a shame there are other servants here, you'd gladly slap that prim face of hers without reservation.
"An apology for what?" You say with gritted teeth
"Oh I don't know, maybe leaving me to die could be one thing to apologize for, you inconsiderate fool." Ereshkigal brings a hand to her head in exasperation, "Running off to fight Ibaraki, disobeying explicit orders, leaving me to fight off an army of Onis... You're like a glory-hound who doesn't listen." The goddess lectured.
Ah yes, that mess in Rashomon a day or two ago. That was one of the more fun singularities. Just you and something to burn, and a good fight too. You have fond memories of bringing down Ibaraki, it's a shame you were stopped before you could deal the final blow.
You half-remember abandoning Ereshkigal too, which was something your master had given you a slap on the wrist for, but nothing more.
"You survived at least, so I don't see what you're crying about," you say
"Crying!?" Ereshkigal's face becomes a scandalized red.
"Besides, shouldn't a goddess like you be able to take down an army? Your kind has always been so boastful about your godly powers that you practically never shut up about. Was it all lies then? A front for your ego?"
"My strengths are not what's in question here, witch. It is merely that my pride as a goddess won't let you get away from committing such a thing again! If you don't see what's wrong with leaving a partner behind and apologize, you're no better than a mad dog."
Now that gets you to stand up. You smash your hands on your table as you ascend and lean towards her. Speaking with gritted teeth you say, "You can call me anything you'd like, but a dog isn't one of them." You give her a deadly glare as your eyes lock into hers as a battle of wills begins.
"And what will you do exactly? Cut me to bits? Feed me to Fou? You think I don't know that Chaldea keeps you on a short leash, Jeanne? Besides if you don't see the error in your ways and apologize - actually no, just apologizing isn't enough. If you don't grovel on the floor and beg for forgiveness, then it's a leash well deserved, dog."
Now all you see is red, and your skin burns hotly as the fire in you threaten to escape and devour. Your right hand seeks St.Catherine's handle as the sword itself readies to be summoned by you.
"Cut it out you two, that's enough" EMIYA sternly says as he approaches the two of you, "You're disturbing everyone."
You breathe slows as the world morphs to its original colour. You look around to see many servants stare at you, ready for a fight to break out. Arturia and her knights stare at you too, their hands reaching for their weapons.
You want to fight them, burn them all if you can. But it wouldn't be worth it now, would it?
"Tch." You say as you shove past Ereshkigal and walk into the hallways.
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Slash! Srrrinngggg!
Ghostly apparition after ghostly apparition dissipates as St.Catherine cleaves them to bits. Meanwhile, you let loose wild flames unto groups of wraiths, cleansing the area around the cathedral that you stand on top of. You jump down to the street and kill the final ghost as the town becomes bereft of the moans and groans of the undead.
You breathe in, taking in the air as the moon reaches its zenith. There's this cathartic feeling of a job well done and the act of mowing down enemies. Doing this has dulled the potency of your anger as you feel a sort of release.
You look around and note the empty streets and the abandoned carts still storing goods. Bourges... this town was once called, a bustling centre of trade that situated south of Orlèans. Now there's no one alive to speak its name, not even the guards, the shopkeepers, the priests, the women, and even the children. All of them turned to ash during the advent of wyverns and the great dragon. Your dragon. Your Fafnir.
Their blood and the blood of many more stain your sickly pale hands. Orléans, Paris, Vaucouleurs, La Charité, Lyon, Thiers...each and every one burnt and defiled by you. A mountain of corpses for each city.
No...no that's not right, your hands are clean is it not? They're not the same hands that perpetrated these massacres. The version of you that conquered France was someone else entirely, someone whose memories and mannerisms you've inherited.
The you that was wished into existence by Gilles is different from the present you. Her wishes were Gilles's wishes, her hatred was his hatred too. Now you're free, and like a cockroach, you refuse oblivion and encroached the Throne of Heroes to carve out an existence for yourself. Now your wish is your own to make, but the hate that drives you shackles you still. There's still Gilles's mark within you, and it cannot be undone.
But... You're different, in every sense of the word. Yet despite that, despite being reborn and given new purpose.....
You halt that train of thought.
You redirect your focus on purging the inhabitants of Bourges yet again. The irony doesn't escape you, history doesn't repeat, but it rhymes. Now undead, the ghostly forms of the inhabitants are anchored into the world by their own anger and despair. Shackled.
You're not sure why you do this, purging French city after French city of the ghosts you've created. The French singularity is slowly being repaired, made evident to you by the structures that had suddenly been rebuilt. Da Vinci and the director knows what they're doing, and they're effective. What you're doing isn't helping them in any major way. You doubt a few wraiths here and there would disrupt the repair process, so you're not doing this to be of use to Chaldea right?
Is it for atonement? You're not sure.
Duty then...you purge the wraiths because it is your duty... No, that's not right either. Whatever it is, you feel that you'll find the answer once every ghost in France is abolished.
A single skeletal finger rises out of the ground, creating huge cracks in the brick road. Before you could process it, a massive weight wraps around you and constricts your arms and legs. You don't bother to look back to see your assailant for you know what they are.
You will four black spears into existence, they hover over you before descending onto the hand that holds you. The spears shatters the arm and you are set free. You turn around with St.Catherine in hand just in time to block a slash from one of the ghost's arms and dodge a jab from another.
Now that you're facing it, you have a clear view of your enemy. A single floating torso with four arms and a lack of legs. Skulls fill the ribcages, as a veil covers its giant head. Massive Ghosts, this enemy is creatively called. Troublesome for a group of servants, lethal against one.
But you're Jeanne D'arc, and your legend spreads far and wide. This fact makes you stronger than a single average servant, so you're confident you can defeat this ghost.
You close your hand into a fist and will your fire into existence. The ghost is engulfed in a pillar of scorching flames, but you doubt it was a lethal strike. Meanwhile, you hop onto one of the roofs and ready yourself to launch at the enemy. You form several black spears behind you as you begin to run, they follow you as you charge. The fire dissipates, and the ghost turns towards you and slashes the air, creating sharp gusts of winds that you've seen amputate limbs.
You weather the attack and keep running as your armour is scratched in every place. You reach the edge of a roof and jump. Your sudden ascent breaks the brick tiles as you poise to impale with St.Catherine.
The ghost attempts to grasp you midair, but your spears intercept the three remaining arms. You fall onto it with impunity. You plant St.Catherine onto its head and use the blade as a conduit for your flames. Fire fills its entire skull and melts some part of it as the alabaster bone dissolves under the extreme heat. It doesn't thrash in pain as it doesn't feel pain at all, and before you could melt its head fully, an arms grabs you and throws you away. You were simply too slow.
You crash through building after building, brick and wood impacts your back repeatedly. You gain back your footing shortly and dash out of the debris to spot the ghost some blocks ahead of you. It detects you and slashes at the air again, but this time the sharp winds don't hit you. You've dodged out of the way and onto the rooftops. Continuing to evade its attacks by hopping from roof to roof.
The ghost brings its three hands together and does...something, you can't really tell, all you see are the black circles formed at each of its palms. But suddenly you feel fatigued, weakened even. As if you're unable to do half the things your powers allow you to do. You've slowed down severely, and you're assaulted by the ghost's wind attacks, chipping away at your armour and cutting into your skin. Blood drips down from your forehead to your eye as you see the Massive Ghost hover closer to you.
The ghost raises it's remaining arms up to slash at you. The arms descend, but before it strikes you, two skeletal heads rise suddenly from the ground and chomps at the ghost. From what you could surmise, the skeletal heads seem to resemble the skulls of dinosaurs. One head bites the Massive Ghost's right shoulder while another bites the ghost's skull. Their teeth find a foothold and both ancient beasts pull against one another as the ghost is ripped in half. Bones fly as the gargantuan spirit is split into two. The beastly pair descend into the ground and disappears.
Silence reigns and the city is quiet again. The bones dissipate into dust, and the only reminder of the fight was the ruined buildings surrounding you.
You hear the click-clack of boots and look back to see that smug goddess again. Ereshkigal is dressed in her usual black gown decorated with golden linings and golden skulls. In her hand is that disproportionate double-sided monstrosity of a glaive, with one end painted predominantly white and the other painted black.
"My my," She says, "I believe you owe me more than an apology."
You stand up and wipe off the blood off your brow, "I owe you shit." You respond between breaths.
Ereshkigal frowns at that," the ingratitude...".
"How'd you find me here, anyway? Did Davinci tell you?"
Ereshkigal shakes her head, "You weren't anywhere in Chaldea, so I supposed you were in one of the singularities. Considering your origins, it was an obvious choice." She shrugs.
Ereshkigal crosses her arms and sighs, "Listen... about last week..."
"What about last week?" you spit out.
She shakes her head then opens and closes her mouth as she struggles to speak, as if choking on the very words that threaten to leave her mouth. "I...have wronged you, as I conducted myself in ways ill befitting of a goddess. I had a legitimate grievance with you but... confronting you like that was not the ideal way of handling it. Thus I am obliged to ask if you can forgive me."
"Oh? And what has made you seen the error of your ways?"
"EMIYA, he gave me quite the lecture after our...talk... And considering he has intimate knowledge of this human vessel that I possess, a lot of his words rang true. I didn't believe him at first, but after a few days of back and forth, I realize I was in the wrong. Which explains me being here, apologizing to you."
"You think I'll accept an apology from a stuck up bitch like you?" You scoff and then ask, "How far up your ass was that silver spoon of yours to create an outburst like that?"
"I believe it was you that had an outburst, but I digress. To answer your question, it is because I'm a goddess." She begins to lecture, "And a goddess has to look after her image. If she doesn't, she will gain no one to worship her, and without worshippers, a goddess cannot be called a god at all. Any insult to me must be dealt with swiftly and completely so so as to maintain my image, and your abandoning of me was very insulting indeed. My pride would not have allowed it to stand unpunished, you understand? That's why I went off on you like that."
You scoff at that, "You're even more deranged than I am then. You won't find worship here in Chaldea, so just stop this facade of godhood or whatever you want to call it."
She speaks slowly, as if it pains her to say each word, "Yes, I'm beginning to realize the futility of finding worshipers." she admits, which is unusual to you. You did not expect her to concede to your point. "We're equals now, as much as I don't want to admit it. Looking down on you and the others is not...conducive to having me fit in Chaldea. A fact which EMIYA has made very clear to me." her eyes move down as her air of haughtiness diminishes, "I'm one of the new arrivals if you haven't noticed, so I've been trying to break out of these old habits I once had. Plus, this vessel's personality has mixed with mine, and it has created...difficulties."
"A goddess who can't adapt well? What else is new? And you chose to possess this vessel, didn't you? Then you don't have the right to complain." Ereshkigal frowns at that, her cheeks reddening, "besides, bring up your troubles to EMIYA, not me. I can't give two shits on the issues that made you a bitch. And no, I won't accept your apology because EMIYA told you so. So go." You make a shooing motion with your hand.
"Then how can I get you to forgive me."
That...throws you off quite a bit. Resorting to begging now isn't she? You're not sure if she's genuinely guilty or if it's because of something else. Maybe there's something you're not getting here? It could just be due to embarrassment, you posit, you'd feel mighty ashamed if you acted as petulantly as she did yesterday. So maybe she's finding closure in that shameful episode by apologizing to you. It could be something else entirely... All-in-all...you don't get it. So you respond in the best way you know how.
"You can grovel and eat dirt. I'll forgive you after that."
Ereshkigal's face fumes at your request, "Listen here you ingrate! I'm trying to-" Ah, that's the Ereshkigal you know...She takes a sudden breath, silence reigns in until the Queen of Irkalla continues to speak, "Maybe I can I do you a favour." She says with gritted teeth, swallowing her pride and speaking each word with difficulty, "Have me do something to earn your forgiveness."
Pardon...?
You raise an eyebrow, contemplating on what she just said. You open your mouth to reply, but she cuts you off.
"The favour of a goddess is not something you should spend gratuitously."
You frown at that. Even when the goddess herself is apologizing she still finds a way to make it seem like a high honour...how entitled, "What's it to you if I accept your apology. Just go. We can forget all about this."
"It's because I've made a mistake and wronged you without a proper reason. So I'm compelled to make it right."
"That's remarkably childish coming from a god." You're starting to get annoyed by her persistence. What a futile thing to do, to get an Avenger to forgive is to go against their very nature. You cross your arms and attempt to get her off your case, "look, we've wronged each other for stupid reasons, right? That should make us even, no need to owe favours for each other."
"No, that makes us equally wrong." You bring your palm to your face in exasperation. What's the deal with her anyway?! This is a total hundred-and-eighty degree turn in personality, but despite that she's still unbearable to talk to. "Don't misunderstand, I'm not being altruistic Jeanne, I absolutely expect you to apologize in return." She explains "Oh!" She seems to have an epiphany. "Maybe I can assist you as a form of an apology."
"Assist me in what?"
"In purging the ghosts. That is what you're doing right?"
Immediately you reply, "No."
"No?"
"It's my duty, and no one else's. Only I'm responsible for these ghosts."
"Uh-uh, and you seem to have it all under control, don't you? I'm sure that massive ghost was no more than a nuisance." You flush a beet red, she continues, "How many cities have you purged so far?"
"two, Bourges and Lyon."
"And when did you start this campaign of yours?" she drawls.
"A few weeks back."
Ereshkigal shakes her head, "tsk, tsk. By the time you finish, Solomon would be long gone, and all the singularities would be fixed by then. "
You grimace, "I-" She interrupts you, fully expecting what you were going to say.
"Yes-yes, it's a deep and personal journey in which you don't truly know the reason why you've embarked it. But you're sure that the answer lies at the end of said journey." She speaks in a bored tone, "Look, I will not interfere in your search, or take over your duties. It's obvious from your face that you're afraid that I might take away that answer by doing the work for you. I will not. I'm assisting to expedite the process, not babysit you all the way. "
"Tch, all of this for an apology?"
"It's a matter of principle. Now I believe you owe me a favour of your own too?"
You narrow your eyes, "I'll do what you'll ask for if it's within reason. If you're gonna force me to get your help, then whatever. But don't think I'll be in your debt for this. I'll only return a favour for a favour, but that's it."
"Good, I'm glad we have an understanding." She nods her head, "Now, I'm going to need your help on something, a conquest of my own you can say. A delicate one too, since it pertains to the matter of the heart."
"the heart?" You're not too sure where this is going.
Ereshkigal closes the distance between you and her. She smiles a small smile, "You're going to help me win Ritsuka's heart."
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"Hey" Araquo's voice brings you out of your stupor. The man brings out what he thinks to be his most dashing smile as he drags a chair towards your table. He smells of alcohol and sweat. This is...quite the annoyance. "What's our hero doing here in her lonesome?"
"Reminiscing." You say neutrally, Araquo raises an eyebrow, so you try to steer the conversation somewhere else before he asks any unfortunate questions "and indulging myself in this feast."
Araquo leans a bit towards you on his chair, "Well if anyone deserves rests its most certainly you." He bows his head "My lady" He sure is laying it a bit thick now, isn't he? You're not sure how to respond to such blatant...um...whatever this is called. It's not like you have a dearth of experience to draw upon and your memory's been a bit unreliable...maybe you should ask Saber about it? Actually no, that'd be a bad idea.
"Didn't I tell you to call me Jeanne? I'm no lady in any sense of the word," you say with some small amount of irritation. You attempt to contemplate ways to shoo him without acting brutish or overly violent, only to come up with nothing. You're not really good with the subtleties of civil conversation you realize.
You really wish you could conjure up some fire, say your usual lines, and shoo him away, but that'd make an enemy out of Saber you think. Scaring her officers with magic would earn you more than empty threats, if not a fight. Tch, that bitch has so many intricate schemes that anything you'd want to do would make them fall apart. Then she'll get all rankled and maybe kill you out of spite. Well, she could try anyway, but with Lera recovering you don't think it's wise to fight her now. You've resolved to not get Lera killed or enslaved, and if you do die (though minuscule a chance), then that's it for her. Besides, she's proven her use so far.
Tch, since when did you become so restrained! You've got Lera's wellbeing to keep in mind coupled with whatever that stupid bitch Arturia wants you to do, or not do. Hell, that's not even counting the fact that there might be dangerous servants in the midst and that you've got a Grail to find!
You long for the simpler times when there was a clear enemy to burn. Either in Orleans or the other singularities, your resolve was never clouded nor doubted. You knew what to do, and you did them well. Now you feel like some lost pup dragged around by a tidal wave of complications that you'd rather burn away, it'd be easy to do so.
But that sort of thing, isn't really you, not anymore. You're better now.
"Ah, tis a shame for a woman such as you to not be able to find the beauty within one's self". Ughhh, and then there's this man to deal with. You're left a bit off balance and at a loss of what to say...Should you outright tell him off or would that only embolden him? He seems like that kind of man, you think. You don't really know, most of the men you were close with back in Chaldea were either mad or insane. Well, if worse comes to worst, there's always fire. Damn what Saber thinks.
You're about to open your mouth to tell him off, but Araquo's companions appear behind him.
"Araquo, stop bothering the lass. Wasn't this the same woman that dragged you by the hair?" You look to the one who said it, a stocky man with rough sandpaper-like skin, and an old deep scar across his right cheek. The cut probably comes from his chin considering how sharp it is, you muse sarcastically, or the pointed nose. He looks at you with judging stoic eyes that size you up from head-to-toe. He speaks to you with a voice that is guttural and gravelly, which brings with it a sort of intensity. "Forgive Araquo for his persistence lass, he is hopeless when it comes to dangerous women. "The man looks back to Araquo with an amused smirk, "And especially when he's drunk.". You recognize some kind of accent in his voice, an accent that is somewhere between Italian and Spanish.
"I see," you reply.
The man speaks again, "So you're this Jeanne I've heard about?". You nod. "From the way Araquo described you, I had expected someone utterly divine."
divine...what a disgusting word that is, "Sorry to disappoint." You say.
"Oh, on the contrary, you've exceeded my expectations. You're better looking than all the nobles in this forsaken place. But can you fight as well as Araquo described I wonder? I can only suspend my disbelief for so long."
Another man within the group speaks up, "Challenging her to a fight before introducing yourself? You sure work fast."
The scarred man's eyes widen at that, "my apologies," he brings a hand to his chest and slightly bows his head towards you," Jaedar, a pleasure." Well, at least he has some semblance of manners.
You nod back, "Jeanne, just Jeanne. Not lady, madam, nor ma'am. Which is a fact our dear friend Araquo seemed to have forgotten."
That rouses a small chuckle from the men around him as Araquo's eyes widen. The man speaks again with a smirk, "Araquo is not known for his memory..." His eyes scrunch, as if searching for the words to say, "Forgive me but... if I may ask, how long have you and the boy captain have known each other?"
"Too long." you reply vaguely.
That rouses even more chuckles. "Aye," Jaedar says, "the lad can be overwhelming. An odd thing considering he can't be no older than eighteen summers. He is eighteen isn't he? Not sixteen, fourteen, or gods forbid twelve?"
You nod, "Something like that. He's definitely older than sixteen, why do you ask?"
"Well, it embarrasses men like us when boys like him show us up. It's a relief to know that he isn't a mere child."
Araquo speaks up, "It's strange isn't it? How'd a boy like him get so strong and smart too? One day it was that hard prick Adario who was this garrison's star, then comes this yellow-eyed blue-blooded prick that Maegyr hired from fuck all. We thought he was employed because Maegyr was some cradle-snatching boy-lover, and dressed the lad up in full Targaryen black. We thought the kid was the type to piss his breeches when a real battle starts, well... till he started swinging his sword around."
"Araquo," Jaedar admonishes, "You shouldn't speak like that, not here."
, "Right," Araquo replies, barely giving Jaedar any attention, " so what is he to you anyway? Ye ain't lovers, are you?"
You spit your crab onto the dish out of shock and the sheer disgust of the thought. Jaedar puts his hand on Araquo's shoulder, "Have you no tact? Maybe we should bring you outside to sober up. Araquo." He gives Araquo's shoulder a squeeze.
The men around them chuckle at your reaction, but you do get some curious stares. Best not to leave their curiosity unfulfilled, lest they try to find answers themselves.
"We're cousins." You say, after schooling your features.
"Huh." Araquo says neutrally, "I see, you're from a noble family I take it?"
"My mother was, but not my father, he was a travelling bard."
"Bard?" One of the other men comments, "Sounds like a Westorosi or Free Cities thing."
"Anyways, I was the product of that relationship. Arturia's mother, my aunt, on the other hand, married a noble. And as cousins, we never had an easy relationship, but we're still bound by blood. That's all, the end. Hope that satisfies you all."
Araquo nods and before he speaks, Saber herself comes into the dining hall with Adario in tow. Every captain in the hall stand to salute as Saber emanates authority with her piercing gaze. "Captains," She says, "you are to follow Ardario, he will take you to the Triarchs who will assign you all new orders. Now go."
Araquo stumbles a bit until Jaedar supports him out of the dining hall. The rest of Araquo's group leaves with the two, so does Vogoros's group and Va..Ve..the barrel-chested man's group. They leave the dining hall in a quick pace.
Saber doesn't follow them; instead, she comes to you, "Jeanne, with me." she asks. You follow her out to the gardens.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
You and Saber stop in a gazebo in the middle of the gardens, surrounded by an assortment of Yellow Carnations, blooming red Amaryllises, and orange Dahlias. There are pathways made of brick and gravel that wanders and intertwines. The gazebo you and Saber occupy is decorated by carved patterns on the roof and hanging vines.
"What's the matter?" You ask Saber.
Saber stares out onto the garden and answers, "The situation has changed."
"Of course the situation's changed. There was a bloody revolt." You say sarcastically.
"It's more than that, you idiot." she replies, "Did you not think it strange that the Triarchs ordered the captains here in haste? Word has reached their ears of chaos in the north, and it's got them panicking. A Dothraki Khalasar had splintered into bits, and now we've got upstart Khals north of the Volaena river."
Oh, that explains why you were all summoned here. But it pisses you off that you didn't have enough time to root out the cultists more thoroughly. They have been defeated, yes, but not annihilated, which dissatisfies you greatly. You can see why they prioritized the Dothraki threat now that the cultists are practically defeated. But Saber did say that it was a splintered Khalasar, so would it be that much of a threat? Wait...a splintered Khalasar north of the Volaena river...it tugs at your memory.
"Did they tell you which Dothraki Khalasar splintered?" You ask with increasing weariness.
"Yes, it was Forzo's Khalasar that shattered, I believe."
You grimace, Lera was right all along. Having his son at your mercy, forcing yourself onto his home, and crippling him had made him seem weak. From what you've gathered on the Dothraki, the only thing they'll believe is that "might makes right". Thus, Forzo's Khalasar ended the moment you humiliated him and took down his retinue. You made him seem weak, and the weak cannot lead the Dothraki. Now there's only chaos, until someone strong among them takes charge.
You wonder of Forzo's fate, and the fate of his family and that dear friend of his. Will his first wife and son suffer the same fate Lera had?
"I encountered Forzo the day I was summoned here," you tell Saber. She looks back to you with a raised eyebrow, and you continue, "He wanted me in his bed, very insistent about it too, so I crippled him."
Both of Arturia's eyes widen a bit at that, "I'm sure you did more than just cripple." She states. Tch, you hate it when she's perceptive...you wanted to avoid explaining what happened after you crippled him.
"I did." You say vaguely, hoping that she doesn't inquire any further.
"I see...That's where you found Lera too then? She was a slave to the Dothraki?" You nod, "We'll have to keep this to ourselves then, or the Triarchs will be out for your blood." Out for your blood? But you just saved this city!
"What do you mean?" You ask
"Forzo's Khalasar was a better alternative than a dozen smaller ones. Less chaos, better for business. Not only that, one of these remnants have been reported to be riding south of the Volaena. The revolt has made Volantis...disorganized, they will look for desperate options to appease the roaming Khalasar. You'll be caught up in this city's politics the moment they figure out what you did. The two Triarchs of the Elephant party will sell you out to appease the remnant while Maegyr will find a way to permanently recruit you, willingly or not."
"You think he can coerce me into joining? " You ask, "In fact, how'd you know how the other Triarchs will act? I thought you were only associated with Maegyr."
"I don't think Maegyr's able to coerce you but the man's creative and ambitious. He'll find ways to be a thorn on our side. As for the others, well, I've seen them quarrel enough to gauge their characters."
"And what of the Dothraki remnant? How imminent are they?"
"They're not an immediate threat, being at least a week away, but a large one all the same, especially with Volantis in disarray. Once word spreads of the revolt, whoever this new Khal is might leap onto the opportunity to sack this city with impunity."
"It's distressing, but with you as the commander and I the force multiplier, we'd be able to save this city from being totally destroyed, I'm sure of it. Though with the state this city is in now, there might be heavy losses on our side."
Saber shakes her head, " Ignore the wellbeing of Volantis, that's a distraction. Our main objective is finding the Grail, which if the Alter Ego is to be believed, is in Westeros. Involving ourselves in the entanglements of this world's politics would only slow us down. Now that I'm able to afford the journey west, I believe it's time to leave now. Oh, and do not worry about your translator's injuries, I have and can make arrangements for her."
"You did? That's good, and you're right, we have to find the Grail first and foremost. Everything else is secondary, besides this world would be reset when we fix this singularity anyway, or whatever it is now."
Saber smirks at that, "Good, but I wouldn't be too sure of resetting this world's state, this has been an unusual Grail War after all. Now come, we have things to discuss."
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You're back in your room now, glancing at Lera's sleeping form. You saw the stitches running down her abdomen and feel a modicum sense of relief. The healers must've stopped the bleeding that may have come from a ruptured spleen or somesuch, and her stable breath indicates to you her good health. How lucky, it must be the armour you bought her that saved her life, now your only worry is a possible infection.
The room is silent, the fountain now empty of water, since whatever intricate system that maintained the flow of water in the third floor has stopped working. You look out to the balcony to see the moon at its zenith, but you don't stare at it for long. Your eyes, whether consciously or not, dart from left to right in search of that...thing you saw earlier. You wonder if it were some form of projection of a servant, or worse something else. Whatever it is, that being you saw must have some connection to the cultists. Maybe it has the ability to erode the sanity of others? You don't really know, and you stop speculating further.
Your mind brings you back to what Saber had told you after your talk in the Gazebo. There's a ship heading to Westeros that leaves in three days, stopping at Lys before arriving in Sunspear. Saber has already informed the Triarchs of her resignation with Adario as her successor. Thus, the Tyrant will take that ship to head west, with or without you. But to leave the city at the brink of invasion?....
Would the city still stand without two servants to protect it? You're sure that with Volantis trying to rebuild, it has become vulnerable to the Dothraki horde. But the defences and fortification have stood the test of time. You saw with your own eyes the massive black walls, the size of the garrison, and an entire district made only for the said garrison. Thus, it's not like you're sealing Volantis's fate to the horde now, are you? It could be that the Triarchs could also negotiate a truce with the Dothraki and stave off an invasion all-together.
Volantis's fate, you conclude, can go either way without your intervention, but you can never be sure.
The Grail, on the other hand. The artefact needs to be secured and within safe Chaldean hands. You've seen how a Grail can be used in a singularity, hell you've even used one yourself. From summoning dragons to remaking the landscape, Solomon's Grail is a doorway to infinite possibilities to the one that holds it. And as a Chaldean servant, the faster you get the Grail, the better.
Though there is this thought that nags you at the back of your mind. A thought that tempts you to use the Grail for your own purposes. That there is no Chaldea here to shackle you and kill you...
You shake your head, and look out into the balcony.
What to do...
You can choose multiple subvotes at a time.
i.e
[x] Do X
--[X] also do Y
--[X] and Z
[] Stay in Volantis to fight against the Dothraki.
--[] Convince Saber to stay with you
---[] How? (write in...)
--[] Help with the rebuilding effort
---[] volunteer into the Volantean garrison
----[] Do you take a commanding role or no?
---[] Enforce order onto the districts
---[] Ride out and harass the Dothraki
[] Leave with Saber and Lera to Lys.
--[] Shop for supplies and provisions.
--[] Ask one of the garrison officers to come with you (varying chances of success, no guarantee).
--[] Do you hire someone familiar with Dorne (adds a character to party)
--[] Garner information on Dorne (rumours of a Red Apothecary)
--[] Write in...
[] Write-in...
I'm back! Sorry for the two months-long hiatus, had to focus on studies and university applications (which good news I got accepted to some unis!). Thus, I haven't been exactly active on SV, except for the rare moment when I do have time. So have this monstrous 7k chap to compensate for the wait.
Now, the writing might be inconsistent since I wrote this during every weekend in January and some days in Christmas, so the quality might rise and dip as you go. So do please point out any mistakes I've made! And if there's one thing I feel iffy about in this chapter is Jeanne and Ereshkigal's interaction. I'm not entirely satisfied with it, and might edit somethings in when I have the time.
Anyways, hello to a new story arc!
