Prelude to Brioche

Time passed surprisingly quickly in the halls of Chaldea, the remaining staff bolstered by Scheherazade's summoned stories and Medb's handsome braves to get the organization back on its feet. The process was far from graceful, with plenty of time being put towards teaching them to use the various devices effectively.

The Director spent most of her time split between Da Vinci's workshop and the operations room, ordering the Caster in question alongside Doctor Roman to hurry things back into order. Mash was caught between check ups with the Doctor and throwing herself against the training simulator, pushing herself as far as she could manage in order to become stronger. Finally, Humanity's last Master was caught in a cycle of training with Medb, getting pulled into interrogations with Olga and Da Vinci, and being ambushed by Medb in order to heighten his skills.

When Trent wasn't busy fighting off the Queen of Connacht's assaults or answering the pointed questions of the Chaldeans, he was busy in the summoning chamber, calling forth the Heroic Spirits they'd encountered in Fuyuki. Archer Emiya took to his summoning quite well, taking up a position in the kitchens and joyfully bolstering the tiny group while he waited to be deployed. The Hassan of the Cursed Arm quietly folded himself into the shadows, keeping to himself as he ghosted through the halls of Chaldea. Unlike either of them, Herakles had simply drifted into spirit form after being summoned, not even bothering to shed the Mad Enhancement gripping him. The Caster form of Cu Chulainn, while initially enthused by the idea that he'd be involved in the pitched battle against the incineration of human history, felt incredibly betrayed when he found out that Medb had been summoned, to the point that he had begun experimenting on creating a means to keep her away from him. Lastly, the Altered version of Artoria Pendragon split her time between demanding and consuming the greasiest of foods in the cafeteria, or joining Medb in training their Master, citing that it would be shameful for her to be seen losing to someone so unskilled in martial matters.

While the Canuck had started trying to learn magecraft, it had proven to be an uphill battle, not just because he was coming to the discipline so late in his life, but also because Medb had taken to interrupting the lessons for surprise spars. Suffice to say, little progress was made.

In the little time he had to relax, Trent had taken to either sifting through Chaldea's surprisingly vast collection of recreational media, or trying to pet Fou, when the beast deigned to grace him with his presence. Even that last part was mostly held in the whims of whether or not Mash approached him, and the Demi-Servant was reluctant to do so.

All the while, Scheherazade would trail behind him, offering support. When he was sparring with Medb and Artoria, she would provide water and a towel for him. During his magecraft lessons, she would murmur advice of her own. And when he wanted to be alone, she would disappear. If he hadn't known that she could read him like a book, he would have found it a lot more disconcerting than he already did.

And in those few, small moments that Trent had to himself, alone with his thoughts or in his dreams, he did his level best to drown out the gnawing in the back of his mind. His nightmares carried him back to the blasted terror of the bombed staging theatre, the collapsing ceiling, and one girl's selflessness.

One morning, after another night spent ruminating on his remorse, the Canuck pulled himself from beneath his covers, and slowly dressed. As he finished shoving his feet into his boots, a shrill sound echoed through his room, and the rough timbre of a handsome brave rang out. "Lads and lasses, we've got us a lock on the next Grail! We'll be needing all essential staff to report to the Command Deck!"

Understanding that there was no chance for him to laze around, Trent let out a sigh and started on his way, falling into a brisk jog.

Along the way, Scheherazade fell into step behind him, demurely following along despite the fact that she could have easily outpaced him. Allowing her to go unquestioned, the blond simply nodded to her as he kept up his stride.

Reaching the Command Deck, the duo found that Romani and Da Vinci had arrived before them and were receiving an advanced briefing from the Brave. Stepping up alongside them, the blond grunted, "We have any details?"

"The Grail's location has been confirmed in France, with the timeframe being 1431 Anno Domini," Da Vinci replied, pulling up a pair of tablets and bringing the information up on them. Passing one over to Humanity's Final Master, she continued, "The most notable thing about that time-"

"Was the burning of Jeanne d'Arc at the end of the Hundred Years War," Trent finished, taking one of the tablets and going over what little information they had.

When Olga and Mash both arrived, they received the same briefing, and while Olga claimed one of the tablets for herself, the blond handed his tablet over to Mash. For the most part, it covered the background of the time period, the geography of the area, as well as what was the most likely cause for the Singularity. It even provided a handy list of key figures who would be alive during that time.

As the young lady gave him a nod of thanks, the blond reached out tentatively to the fluffy creature balanced on her shoulder. During his time in Chaldea, Trent had attempted to bond with the small beast, but Fou had remained cautious around him, keeping his distance.

The small, bluish-white furred beast sniffed at his fingers, before seemingly calming down. Taking it as permission, Trent gently set his down on the back of Fou's head, scratching behind his ears.

After a few moments, the miniscule beast trotted around to stand on Mash's other shoulder, but the blond counted the interaction as a win.

Once the tablets had made the rounds, Olga cleared her throat and declared, "Now that we've located this Singularity, we can begin the Grand Orders of Chaldea, and take back human history!" The statement echoed through the nearly empty command room, highlighting how truly desperate the situation was. Seemingly undeterred, the director swept her arm out and pointed at the sole remaining Master. "Blackmore! You, alongside Kyrielight, Caster, and Rider will be inserted directly into the Singularity. Once there, you shall proceed to the nearest Leyline in order to summon reinforcements from Chaldea. And, with that done and our forces properly arrayed, we shall see the Singularity resolved!"

Once more her proclamation echoed through the seemingly cavernous expanse of the almost empty command deck. Rather than disparage the downsized magus, Trent nodded solemnly, reflecting on just what it meant for him. Despite how humble the forty-eighth Master was, she had left the blond with a tremendous pair of shoes for the blond to fill.

Taking a deep breath, he answered, "Understood, Director Animusphere. I'll go collect Medb before heading down to the coffins."

"A-actually, Master, I asked one of the braves to pick her up and bring her to the staging area," Mash interjected, earning a nod of approval from the room at large.

"In that case, Blackmore, Kyrielight, suit up and get into the coffins, the operation starts as soon as everyone is in place," Olga decreed, unsubtly urging the group on their way.

Trent and Mash hustled off to change into the plugsuits prepared for them and met on the lower half of the Command Deck, the pair of them standing beside the coffins set into the ground. Scheherazade stood attentively beside her Master's coffin, while Medb continued to sleep on the ground beside, where she'd been laid out by a brave.

While the young lady easily slipped into the boxy container, Trent hesitated, swallowing a lump in his throat as he dropped into his. The last sight he had before the metallic lid sent him into suffocating darkness was Caster watching him curiously.

He tried to breathe deeply at the sound of the bolts sliding into place, sealing the coffin, but sputtered as light assaulted his eyes. A nova blasted through his vision, coruscating and nearly blinding him.

The world slammed into existence, the Canadian suddenly found himself on his feet, the French countryside filling in from nowhere even as Mash stood across from him, blinking rapidly. As the two took a moment to steady themselves, there was a tapping as the storyteller landed beside them.

Medb squawked as she hit the ground, rudely awoken by the sudden impact.

The Rider made a show of standing up with a flourish, not a lick of dirt sticking to her as she fanned her hair out around her. Shoving her nose into the air, she sniffed, "Normally, I'd want to know where we are, but the sheer blandness of this place makes me want to pack up and let this place burn."

In a way, Trent couldn't really disagree with her evaluation of the area, as the vast majority of their surroundings just looked… the same to him. With the singular exception of what looked to be a large, walled keep, the rolling plains and gentle hills reminded him of the areas he had cycled through when going to and from work. The forests set behind him whispered of the ones he traipsed through as a child, the quiet woods he and his childhood friends ran through and explored.

The only real difference to him was the smell in the air, it wasn't the fresh air he had expected, no the wind carried an acrid, choking scent. The blond's shoulders tightened, his eyes narrowing as the hellish odour of the wrecked Chaldea and the burned out husk of Fuyuki snapped into focus. He swallowed deeply, as he looked across the group, and went over what he planned to say in his head.

Opening his mouth, it snapped shut, his teeth clattering against each other as a shrill screech echoed through the air. The sound of howling wind complimented it, a many winged shadow fell over the keep. Black, scaly shapes dropped down from the sky, their wing beats setting the air into a frenzy, even as panicked shouting and screaming could be heard from the keep.

"Change of plans!" Trent hollered, his eyes following the wyverns as they wheeled about in loose formations. "We're going to need to deal with this before we can move out! Caster, bring out anything that can fly or attack from range, Mash, Rider, you two will cover us and deal with any that come in clo-"

The keep's massive doors creaked open, and a group of what looked to be pikemen hurried out, pulling a large cart, burdened heavily with what looked to be meat. The Canadian was about to question the reason, only for the smell to hit him, the tangy, sour smell of spoiled meat overpowering everything else. And Trent wasn't alone in noticing it, as the wyverns changed their course, excitedly crowing as their wake abandoned the keep for the more pungent meal.

"Oh, that's actually a bit clever," Medb declared, her head tilting to the side as she watched the soldiers array themselves around the cart. Then one of them was swept off the ground by a passing reptile, dragged through the air and then dropped, passed between the wyverns as if playing with him, his screams of terror seemingly only encouraging them before dropping him from a massive height, his body not moving afterwards. The pinkette tilted her head back upright as a sneer overtook her pretty face. "Of course, that doesn't make up for how pathetic they are physically. Were they men of Connacht, those lizards would be replacing that spoiled meat already."

Before Trent could tell her to stow the commentary and help them, Scheherazade spoke up, "Then would it not be a wonderful time for you and your Braves to showcase that, Queen Medb?" The Caster's head was bowed deferentially as the Celt Super Bitch turned her eyes upon her, and she continued, "Is it not your privilege as a ruler to showcase the prowess of your people, to awe the citizenry of other nations?"

"Oh, don't think I don't see what you're doing," Medb remarked as she sauntered into the storyteller's personal space, a dainty hand lifting the dark-haired woman's chin so their eyes met. The queen's grin was sharklike as she chuckled airily, "Oh, your honeyed tongue drips words that are delicious, but if you keep trying to manipulate me, I'll find a sweeter use for it…"

"Medb! Now's not the time, so unleash your Braves and give those wyverns what-for! Scheherazade will reinforce you!" Trent interrupted harshly, a glower landing on Rider even as Mash took up a position with her shield at the ready.

Medb's smile stayed in place, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she spun on her heel, her hair whipping in the wind as she all but skipped forward. "Good, Master, you're learning." She disappeared in a flurry of white, flickers of red dropping behind her and bubbling into the stout forms of the Handsome Braves, all of whom followed after her with a hearty warcry.

The Forty Thieves, piled high upon the magic carpet, chittered through the air, whooping excitedly as their tiny scimitars flashed out and cut tiny nicks into the scales of the wyverns. Following behind were the Braves, swords and spears complimenting shields, a bulwark cutting into the wake of wyverns, allowing the regular soldiers to rally.

The reptiles let out a harsh gurgling as they broke, reforming in the air, screaming wordless hunger as they wheeled around the skies. A large one that seemed to act as a leader swooped low across the ground, its maw spread wide as the ground ripped up beneath its jetstream. It snaked towards the group of soldiers, the pikemen shouting in surprise as they grouped together, spears pointed outwards in a hasty wall.

Before it could reach them, two figures interposed themselves between the pikemen and the wyvern.

The first, a blonde clad in blue and silver, a long pole in hand, a look of determination in her eyes as she stood. Her posture screamed a fierce guardianship, shoulders set and form resolute.

The second was Medb, a comet in white and pink, slammed down. Her heeled boot fell upon the wyvern's head, crushing it into the ground, its body crashing into the dirt and twisting upon itself. Large, conical teeth tumbled through the air as the queen tilted her head, smiling at the blonde in mock compassion.

"Oh, sweetie, there's a time and place to take things slow…"

Rider spun on her heel, a sharp crack ringing through the air as the wyvern's head collapsed beneath it. Her other foot lashed out, a smaller wyvern's head distorting around it, as she viciously sent it hurtling broken to the ground. Medb's voice was high and loud, echoing over the screeching reptiles as she crowed, "Put now is the time to be frantic! To be hurried! To let it all hang out in the heat of passion!"

The slowly dwindling wyverns converged behind her, an avalanche of scale and claw.

Handsome Braves piled forward around her, their bodies forming a wall as they stood between their queen and the winged menace descending upon her.

But that was meaningless too, as a massive blue shape fell through the wake. Mammothine cerulean feet crushed reptilian bodies beneath them, while just as massive hands snapped out to grasp a gaggle by the tails and another set by the necks. With the single twist of its wrist, the Genie of the lamp dashed the wyverns it held by the tail against the ground, while its other hand squeezed the life from those it held by the neck.

Trent strode forward, Scheherazade a step behind with the Forty Thieves crowding around her heels, and Mash in front, a small bit of blood and viscera on the edges of her massive shield. Humanity's final Master cleared his throat, and moved to speak, only to be cut off once more.

"The Dragon Witch!" the soldiers screamed, various expletives tumbling out alongside that epithet as they scrambled away from the blonde, spears at the ready as they retreated. "Stay away! We want none of your foul, hellish wants here, lizard whore! Leave us in peace!"

The blonde faltered, raising a hand as her mouth fell open, but no sound came out.

Awkwardly watching her hand fall and her shoulders sag, Trent quietly went over what he was going to say before discarding it. Seeing no point in being fancy, he called out, "Hey, Jeanne d'Arc, want to help us save France and cancel the apocalypse?"

He silently decided that the pained and confused looks he received were worth it. It proved to be even more worth it when the Saint turned a radiant smile upon him, and nodded. "Always."