Debriefing and Disenchantment
Despite stewing in his stench and sweat, Trent and the others had all shuffled off to a conference room, with those who could be considered Chaldea old hands on one side of the table while the Canadian and his Caster were seated on the other.
They were all various states of bedraggled and worn out, though some were looking far more composed than others.
Romani, simply looked somewhat ruffled, with his hair completely mussed and his clothes rumpled.
Da Vinci, despite appearing unruffled, was unable to hide the tired look in her eyes and a few out of place hairs.
Mash was still clad in the armour bestowed upon her by Galahad, but her shoulders had lost the tension that had been keeping them taut during the adventure in Fuyuki. Her shield had likewise been put aside for the moment, resting against one of the walls of the conference room.
It was Olga who drew the most attention, however, as she had changed completely from who she'd been before the entire incident. Rather than a young woman with amber eyes and white hair, she now looked to be a little girl with brown hair and blue eyes, clad in a frilly dress and looking none too happy about it as she had a rather powerful pout on her face. Trent was sure that she intended for it to be a stern scowl, but given her apparent age…
They were arrayed across from the Canadian and Scheherazade, the Caster standing behind him, at attention though the curling of her mouth betrayed her worry.
The blond man, however, was slumped in his chair, the corners of his mouth and eyes drooping down from exhaustion. His body was aching from everything he'd put into surviving Fuyuki, and he was fairly sure that whatever he said was going to make no sense to anyone, even him.
The silence permeating the room was broken when Olga spoke up, her high pitched voice contrasting her stormy expression. "Well then, Blackmore, you claimed to have knowledge of Grail Wars that occurred in parallel worlds, something that should be reserved to a certain magician. Would you care to explain?"
"That is…" Trent trailed off, his eyes moving to the table as he considered his options. He didn't know just how much he could tell them, whether or not Goetia was looking in on them at that moment. Breathing deeply, his gaze met Olga's as he answered, "Consider it a limited form of clairvoyance, focused on incidents and people of interest, such as Grail Wars and the Heroic Spirits that fight within them."
"Which is why you were so familiar with me and had such confidence in my capabilities," da Vinci remarked, her arms crossing as she studied the blond.
Bulling past that, Olga ignored the Caster's statement and asked, "So, just what Heroic Spirit was Lev then? An Assassin? It would explain how he was able to avoid any detection by our instruments. A Caster, maybe? Using magecraft as a means to do the same?"
"No, whatever Lev Lynor is, he's not a Heroic Spirit," the Canadian replied as he shook his head. Knowing that the Director would demand further information, or proof, he held up a hand to forestall any interruptions. "We can tell based on how he reacted to the rune stone I threw at him. We've seen what Cu Chulainn's runecraft was able to do to other Heroic Spirits, and we know that he was able to defeat Rider before we entered the Singularity. The fact that it wasn't even able to leave a singe on Lev when it exploded right next to him means that he's something else entirely." Tapping a finger against the table, Trent was rather undecided on just what he could tell the Chaldeans. "At this point, it would be unwise to make any conclusions as to what he is. We do have a larger issue, after all…"
Letting the sentence hang, Trent couldn't help but wish that he could leave the point alone. "We don't know why Lev Lynor decided to sabotage Chaldea, nor do we know just what he gains from helping put humanity on the road to extinction."
"At this point, the why is hardly consequential," Da Vinci interjected, one of her fingers waving in the air. "While it would be nice, and would help us plot out a general path to try and put things back in order. There's something even more important that we have to address!"
"…Chaldea is now down to about ten percent of its personnel," Roman finished, exhaustion and sadness colouring his tone. "And, even with the Holy Grail we acquired in the Singularity providing energy to Chaldea, keeping everything operational with only twenty or so people is going to be difficult."
Leaning forward in a slight bow, Scheherazade preempted her Master's question. "While they may not be able to complete any of the more complex or specialized tasks, my summons should be able to act as manual labour."
"That solves some of the manpower issues, but not all of them," murmured Da Vinci, caressing her chin as she considered the situation. "Honestly, if they were capable of learning…"
The storyteller shook her head, a hint of nervousness creeping into her features as she replied, "Unfortunately, that's not possible. Their skills and abilities bound within the confines of their narratives."
"Which leaves us with no option beyond summoning Servants in hopes of having them fill in the gaps," Trent declared, crossing his arms as he nodded emphatically.
The others in the room stopped, all of them turning their gazes to the blond. Their expressions differed as they took his words into consideration. Roman looked uncomfortable, Da Vinci was somewhere between amused and bemused, the director was frustrated, Mash was contemplative, and Scheherazade simply bowed her head obligingly.
"I hate the fact that what you suggested is actually the most feasible course of action," Olga groaned as she shook her head, one hand coming up to cradle her forehead.
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The meeting let out soon after that, with Roman declaring that he needed to make sure that Mash was alright, given that this was the first proper manifestation of her nature as a Demi-Servant while Da Vinci had carted off the director to keep calibrating the body to suit her. That left Trent and Scheherazade alone, with only scrawled instructions to guide them to Chaldea's summoning chamber after the Caster had summoned a sizeable horde of her characters to follow the orders of a blond Chaldean.
The duo ended up bumbling their way through the facility, dodging the few remaining technicians as they hurried to and fro. As it was, neither of the two could really offer too much to the repair efforts due to a lack of knowledge in regards to the more specialized equipment that the organization relied upon.
Trent stood near the center of the large domed chamber that acted as the summoning room, Mash's shield having been transported to it and laid down in the middle of a large runic array. Scheherazade had removed herself to the edge of the room, her eyes closed and head bowed.
The Canadian decided it would be better not to dwell on her presence as he looked at the array, his hand hovering idly in his sight. He traced the stylized tattoo of a book sat upon a throne on the back of his hand with his eyes.
Holding his arm out over the circle, he waited silently for a few moments, as if unsure of how to proceed.
"Jesus Christ, this is awkward as hell."
Silence followed as Scheherazade didn't deign to answer his remark, leaving the blond alone with that echoing statement. Casting a sour gaze at the Caster, the blond shook his head and then repeated the steps that he had done in Fuyuki, his heart swelling as the circle lit up in response.
That honestly didn't make it any less awkward for him, though. At the end of the day, he was still chanting a magic spell in the middle of an amphitheatre while a beautiful woman watched him.
Turning back to the circle, Trent's heart swelled as the light crescendoed, glad that they were finally stepping closer to defeating Goetia.
Arcane energies flashed and sent whirls of energy through the room, and as the light faded, the newly summoned Heroic Spirit was revealed.
Standing proudly within the circle, hands placed firmly on their hips, the Servant beamed at him. "So, you're the mighty warrior, who'll fight and die for me? Honestly, you're not much to look at right now, but I'm sure you're something more on the battlefield." As the wind whipping around the room settled, the woman's pink hair fluttered along with the edges of her white skirt, the silver tiara in her hair glittering as the blue light died. "Be glad, for I, Medb, Queen Medb of Connacht, have decided to grace you with my presence."
"No, no. I'm the Master here, you're the one who's supposed to fight and die for me," Trent retorted, shaking his hand in front of his face. While he'd initially been somewhat awestruck by the woman's almost otherworldly beauty, her statement shook him free from the trance.
Crossing her arms, the woman cocked her hips defiantly. "Despite my skill as a Rider, I'm a delicate woman! Can you imagine what might happen if some barbarian cornered me on the battlefield?"
"I would presume that you'd kick his head off. Your beauty being just as fantastic as the legends gives me hope that your prowess in battle is just the same," the Canadian replied, smiling at the Rider.
The queen let out a laugh, her smile predatory. "Well, at least I'm assured of your good eyes. I was almost thinking that your attendant was just a fluke."
Following her eyes, Trent noticed that she had switched her gaze to Scheherazade. As if to answer the attention, the Caster bowed as she declared, "I am Scheherazade, a Caster summoned into our Master's service."
"Is that so?" Medb hummed, studying the other woman. "Well, I'm sure that you'll be an excellent tool, given your attitude. I like people who understand their place." Clapping, she turned back to her summoner, deciding that there was no point in dealing with Scheherazade further, and asked, "So, what have you summoned me for?"
The blond didn't answer immediately, instead he took a few minutes to digest just how she was acting. Slipping his hands into his pockets, he ended up shrugging noncommittally. "We're cancelling the apocalypse."
"My, how exciting!" the queen exclaimed, striking a cute pose. "And how are we being rewarded for our efforts? Gold? Statues? Land? My, there are so many wonderful possibilities!"
Trent paused, his eyes widening as he realized a terrible truth. "Oh god, I never even asked if I was formally hired by Chaldea."
"Are you kidding? We might not even get any sort of recompense for all our hard work?" Medb growled, her expression growing thunderous as she balled her hands into fists.
The Canuck's hands flew from his pockets as he gestured wildy. "You think I don't understand how dire that is? Sure, they'll feed and house me while I help them fight to retake human history, but after that is up in the air."
Looking between the two, Scheherazade groaned, "To think, my Master would be so ill-prepared…" Clutching her stomach, she added, "Will this carelessness be the cause of my death?"
"Don't just kill us off like that!" Trent and Medb roared in unison, causing the dark-haired woman to flinch back, her face a mask of worry.
