Hello, welcome to Chapter 12. If you're a new reader-continue on! If you're a returning reader, I'd suggest going back and skimming Chapter 7, 8 and Chapter 11. Those were the chapters that were changed the most from what they originally were and have new plot details that will be put into SAF later on. Other than that, enjoy Chapter 12 at your leisure...
To set the scene, picture a dark night-made even more crepuscular with the smoke that weaved between the air. The moon turned a burning orange through the hue of said smoke.
The living, their lungs were filled with air encumbered by smog to varying degrees. Even if they made it out of the city, they'd have to contend with simply being able to breathe properly. But breathing would be the last topic on people when face to face with rows of razor sharp teeth and scaly skin tougher than their weaponsmiths finest metals.
The town would not exist in the modern day. The sister settlement to Lyon, the former capital of the Gaul during the time of the Roman Empire, in its future it would be one of the biggest cities in France with ties to banking, cinema and bloodshed. As of now, Lyon was in ruins much like this town was about to be
That meant it was a suitable target for the Dragon Witch's servants to reign her unholy wrath. Couldn't let any escape her just ruination.
It was cacophonous to the senses.
screams human and inhuman.
Laughter in the distance.
The crackling of fire.
The crumbling of buildings
And quiet prayers to the Lord above for a safety to come, as those that spoke it hid themselves.
The ones that were too loud were found and taken care of properly.
From a one story house, the Prince Of Wallachia, who had reigned hell upon Lyon a day prior, stepped on through the broken threshold to take in the smoky air of the settlement. The town was immaculate when the lancer and assassin arrived, even with the fear of his master, the commoners still tried to live on.
They learned this was not to be when the bellow of wyvern broke the calm. They panicked, trying to escape the toll they owed for breathing.
That was their mistake. And for that, he brought them the salvation (read: vengeance) his master wanted for them. The tip of his spear, drenched in the blood of his previous victim, reflected the spewing flames of wyvern burning its prey a yard away from him.
The beast landed and scarfed down on its prey before flapping its wings and searching for more.
Exhaling delightfully with a cutthroat smirk, the nobly garbed and finely groomed lord of impalement went about searching for his next victim. A rising joy overwhelmed him. It wasn't natural, and if he was in his right mind-he would be disgusted with himself for losing himself to Stoker's parody of his nature.
In his right mind, he found himself as barbaric as his older counterpart-the warrior. So overtaken with the gospel and oath of a being that doesn't truly care for the denizens of the world. Bringing salvation through death, Vlad iii would have hurled at the concept.
Though, with each drop of human ichor he drank. With the satisfying noise of the double-edged spear's blade entering his prey's body. He could not help but be absolutely euphoric.
Due to this incarnation of his nature, he looked reserved-but if one were to look him straight in his nobleman's eyes, you would see a pure bloodlust like that of a madman.
Was he mad? he would believe not. For all his faults, those he saw within himself and those imposed upon him, he would never think himself mad as he was. He was a leader, a tactician. A man of God once, who brought penance and safety with means some would consider ghastly.
In a strange land, the second son of four to his father Vlad Dracul, had few qualms for what he was doing. Did he think his master was just? Perhaps not, by all accounts, he was one for this sort of savagery his master wished. She does not fight for a country, only vengeance...what a poor thing. Nevertheless he is not the type of man to disobey the commands of his master. He had his dignity and secured it to himself by knowing even in his altered state, he had his wits about him and his noble phantasm was one that didn't relent to that author's bastardization of his character.
Taking in the sights, he saw the scurrying forms of commoners fleeing from their pyred abode. A young boy and his even younger sister, the younger sibling crying for their parents as the boy dragged her long in desperate struggle to flee.
Readying his spear, the edge directed straight at the boy. The berserk-lancer broke into a sprint, closing the gap of mere moments. The only hitch in his current prey was the sudden approach of a newcomer to his side.
The tip of the spear was inches away from the boy's backside before the newcomer's blade took the boy and his sibling was pushed out of the way.
Tanned hands wielding three thin and extended blades caught the spear. Sparks flew from impact. Deadlocked, the enraged hero of Wallachia double taked for a moment when he met the amber eyes and boyish face of his opponent.
He lacked the red stole he had worn when Darnic possessed Vlad. But one piece of clothing gone didn't dilute the image of the priest before him. How had he come here?
The priest backs off as his thin blades break from the berserk-lancer's own strength. This allows the impaler to take his chance and try to go at him. The prey he had eyes on before would be gotten later (or killed by wyverns or the assassin).
The silver-haired priest summons his katana. They clashed, the tanned boy's face serious while Vlad's had the hint of a smirk. He didn't consider the priest an impressive warrior by any means, he wasn't the tenacious dragonslayer or the Hero of Charity. Though, a slim joy was to be found in fighting the servant of God who had killed him/his master when he was in that abominable state that was his noble phantasm.
Vlad felt as if he should thank the priest for putting him down like the rabid animal he had become when his previous master's desperation got the better of him. But some childish pride dwelled within, bolstered by Jeanne D'arc's tampering that edged him on to just keep attacking.
He laughed as the number of strikes from their respective weapons grew in repetition. The tanned boy kept his guard up and using those blasted black keys those of his ilk were wont to use. Tossing them every chance he could when Vlad seemed like his guard was down.
In response, bringing the spear to the ground with heavyset motion dark pikes bursted from the ground towards the priest.
Managing to leap away, the tanned boy was almost impaled by Vlad's spear. It was quick reactions that allowed him to catch the sides of it with his palms. The blade cut his flesh, not too deep, but it bled nonetheless. With this action the weapon stopped for a moment.
The berserk-lancer grinned at the needle thread action. "So you're a servant, now? How did that happen?" He asked coyly.
A strained look of confusion crossed the priest's features for a moment before they became vexed. "Always was-" Throwing angling the spear's tip to his side, he brings himself in close to the Impaler Prince. Bringing forth two black keys in an instant, hilts between his fingers, he shoves it through the pseudo-vampire's lower waist. "-surprised?"
Bending forward "Gegh!" Vlad cringes, ferocious anger boils. Firm grip on his spear, he pivots fast and aims low before the priest can commence a second insertion. The blade tears the tanned priest's black vestment horizontally before he gets out of the prince of Wallachia reach.
With the blades gouged into his body, Vlad yet still stands. And after his initial reaction, the unperturbed sense of tenacity he exuded could have made you believe he hadn't been stabbed at all. "Why would I bother being surprised? That'd just distract me"
The priest sighs, summoning three black keys in both hands. "Fair, but before we begin...let me ask you a question, Lord Dracula"
Vlad felt some part of his being cringe. "And what would that be?" he responded casually, tearing both keys from his body and letting them drop to the ground.
"Where did I defeat you last time we met?"
The Impaler Prince guffawed at the question, "Where did you defeat me last time? What a repugnant question, my first thought would be you shocked and appalled at me remembering your unscarred face...that shouldn't be possible" The begin to move in circle formation, like two dance partner's waiting for their cue. "Though you said you always were a servant-so I could very well ask the same inquiry"
"You're stalling" The priest accused, their steps unheard between the chaos surrounding them both.
"And you aren't?"
"I want to know where I killed you-Europe-or Japan?" The tanned boy asked, dead serious in his tone and executive with his glare. "I wouldn't ask in the midst of combat if this was a lark"
Vlad raises a brow, grinning at the fellow child of God's principle (though the warrior was more this than he was). "Europe, don't know where you got Japan in your head, that notwithstanding, I was taken off the board after Darnic Prestone Yggdmillenia's desperate wants got the better of him...I thank you for putting us both down"
The priest's stoic features wavered for a moment, as if a burden of some sort had been lifted-even if briefly "You're an unholy abomination, I'd be a heretic to just let you keep walking"
"Says the holy man who works with magus, and rises from the grave with that same magecraft" The berserk-lancer fires back, their distance having shrunk during the conversation.
Their guard's both up, and waiting.
The priest gives a lighthearted smile, "I never claimed to be perfect, we are all born with sin" the Prince of Wallachia saw the priest tense, the time was now.
"Yes...we are, aren't we?" Vlad replied.
Seeing his foe ready to begin the fight anew, the lancer and ruler crossed blades. The clashing metal being just a small part of the chorus of chaos that rang throughout the town.
From the rooftops, a wyvern went down.
Hands steady, eyes sharper than a bird of prey as he focuses on a moving target, EMIYA summons an arrow and draws the bowstring back.
When the precise moment arrives, he releases it, the arrow sails. The stomach of another wyvern is pierced. Breaking the skin and piercing anything vital that'd keep it killing.
Without so much as taking a breath in between, he takes aim at the next draconic subspecies. Waiting for an exact moment, tracing a projectile, drawing the line back and finally, releasing it.
It goes down, the body breaking down into mana as it falls.
He drowned out the noise to solely focus on what he was best at. The town, the noise it made would have been a nightmare, the effect driven home by a steeled decision to stay above the ground.
The kid could play hero, try to get as many people out as he could. Ignoring the real problem before his eyes. It won't matter how many people he saves if these overgrown geckos were still able bodied.
He sighs, pulling the string back, letting it go-another wyvern bites the dust. That's why he put you, the choir boy and Sab-'Jeanne' in charge of culling the herd...at least he has enough sense about basic tactics.
He gives a shallow chuckle at giving the cape any sort of kudos as yet another one of the draconic subspecies goes down in mass of darkness. Beginner's luck...
He took upon himself for covering crowd control, while the rulers faced the enemy servants head-on. Divide and conquer, short and sweet
A wyvern roars, signaling others to follow. Their eyes dead set on the red bowman.
EMIYA smirks, "Okay" six had him marked, he took out three before he found four more behind those and about to get him with the rest. "...okay" he repeated with a frown, unsummoning the bow, beginning to run as the first of them barreled into the roof of the building.
He lands in the alleyway behind the building. Hearing the thundering cracks of wooden support beams, and the bang of the beasts brings the structure down upon them.
Turning fast, tracing kanshou and bakuya in his grip as the blades block the ravenous snout of the first wyvern to drag itself out of the wreckage.
It growls, shooting wrathful eyes as its nose begins to smoke.
"Tch '' He dematerialized the twin blades, as the wyvern began to open its maw wide to spew flame. He ducks heads straight for the beast's center mass. Tracing a shortsword in swift manner, he violently stabs the mana-made blade deep into the creature's body.
Hands firm on the hilt, he drives the armament upwards to its neck. Ignoring the blood wafting on to his frame, he sidesteps the creature's crumbling body and bounds up to the next lizard that had him marked.
"WITCH!"
Jeanne didn't expect any other sort of reaction when she first entered the settlement. Seeing her, even if briefly, amongst the fire and the flames of this town in the thralls of ruination, emphasis her role in the suffering reigned by her darker half.
She blocked the oncoming blade of the town's guard with her pole, and before her attacker even knew it-he was flat on his behind.
The guard braced himself for death. Though, that never came about. He opened his eyes and found no one over, only the sound boots drawing away from him. "What?" Was all he could ask as the Dragon Witch went towards the haughty laugh of one of demon's sent by France's former saviour.
Jeanne didn't fool herself in thinking that the action of sparing his life would change his mind. But she at least hoped it would make him think of getting to safety with any others caught in the crossfire. By the grace of the Lord, a Lord she could find herself to pray to with her crimes, she wanted that to be the outcome.
Skidding to a halt, the laughter echoed its loudest. Rebounding off all and every surface in between brief periods of pained moans, yelps and what sounded like flesh being pierced.
Taking her steps steady, she rounds the corner and enters the town square. Her amethyst eyes cross the masked sinister eyes of a woman who Jeanne wouldn't look out of place with nobility.
Her attire was a tad more revealing than what the Saint of the Flag imagined the nobility of her country would wear, it looked something close to refined nightwear that had been combined with that of an executioner. Dark red, black with wide open sleeves that drooped. With a high red collar, black leggings and metal heels, the dark noble before Jeanne wielded a dark gold staff, the top like a mace with four bat-like wings jutting out of it.
Her fangs dug deep into the neck of a teenage girl while an iron coffin in the form of a maiden closed behind her succinctly with whomever was in it-screaming briefly-it stopped-blood spewed through the creaks of the contraption.
Around the enemy servant, lay the bodies of her previous victims, four wyverns scarfing down the excess carnage she laid waste.
The body in her arm drops, the victim shaking and screaming in silence as the mature woman steps over her like the girl below her was nothing but a morsel. "Well if it isn't my master's shame~~" she drew out darkly, swinging her staff thusly. "What a delectable morsel you are"
Jeanne's eyes widen as a wave of blood rises from the streets and barrels towards her. She takes evasive action. Heading straight for the wave, she aims the tip of her flagstaff at the ground. Moments before she could be hit by the wave, the tip hits the stone as she braces herself, she vaults over the wave, air brushing past her golden locks and violet garb.
She lands, the streets below her heels dyed red. Jeanne takes a breath, taking her flagstaff into both hands like a spear "I will give you the option to surrender…" The ruler attempted to divine the servant's identity-all she got was that the dark woman before her was an assassin with a trait added on to her saint graph. "...*sigh*" Another failure before her eyes.
The assassin licks her lips, finishing off the remnants of her previous victim's blood. She swallows and grants Jeanne a sadist's smile. "Surrender? submit..." She waves her staff slightly. "...not my style~~"
Dark aura pools under Jeanne, an Iron Maiden forms above her. Dropping to Earth, Jeanne bursts into a sprint forward and towards the bloodsucker.
The pale noble rolls her eyes, twirling her staff slightly as the iron maiden forms in front of Jeanne's path, wide open and ready to take her in. "Die now would you?"
"So be it…" Quick to act, Jeanne loosens her grip on her staff to extend its reach before tightening it. She skids to halt and jams the tip of the flagpole into the maw of the iron maiden to keep it from reaching her. "...may the Lord forgive your sins!"
It pushed against her, before closing in on her pole. Dematerializing it, the maiden shuts. Summoning her armament swiftly. She twirls, extending her staff's reach yet again to bat the iron maiden away for the moment.
It sails away and bashes itself into a burning three story structure.
Milliseconds in between that action, Jeanne continues her assault. "YAAH!"
The Dark Noble narrowly avoids the tip of the flagstaff, a tide of blood comes forth and shoots upwards overtaking the saint's form.
It sends her towards the chowing wyverns and subsides. The ruler picks herself up, disoriented but snaps to her senses when the closest beast roars.
"I'm not much of a physical fighter, unlike you fair brute…" the assassin makes her way towards Jeanne as the four members of the draconic subspecies begin to encroach upon her. "...I shall allow these pups to tear you apart, while I enjoy the slaughter~~" She lets out a cacophonous laugh that echoes outwards.
The first wyvern moves in, and Jeanne D'arc readies herself for a long fight and an even longer night.
Ten minutes had passed since the Chaldeans had entered the settlement. And Peter did his best to ignore the bodies of the freshly fallen. Though, it was hard to ignore the smell of burning wood and burning flesh. Not to mention the blood. He felt a knot in his stomach as Mash bashed the front door of the next house where the Doctor said there were human life signs.
His mask would have worked as a buffer in times like these, and times like these were rare for him. The brunette remembered a few bad months where it seemed like he failed more lives than saved them.
"I have one down stairs and two upstairs" the Doctor's voice relayed to him.
"I'll take the two upstairs!" he said in brief before heading upwards towards the broken stairwell. Finely finessing himself over flame to hit the none pyred bits to reach the top.
Mash felt herself tense off as he once again left her side. He's closer than he was...and you have more to worry about! She reminded herself staunchly.
The first floor, even in its currently pyrrhic state, was simple to a fault. It wouldn't be hard to find the person here. With about two or so rooms, the first room had been bust. "Hello!" she called out as she looked into the following room.
Said room was lit almost in its entirety, with a massive hole in its side and wooden beams from the top floor that had collapsed somewhat below.
"Aidez...moi…" a weak voice, barely above whispered, called out beneath the beams.
The shielder spied the tip of a foot poking out from under the pile. The flames begin to covet the pile and burn wild.
With a forthright expression, Mash braced herself and ran through the flame. It hurt, though it would have injured her more if she were still purely human. It would have begun to kill her actually.
She held in the irregular sensation of the fire as she came to the pile of wooden beams. With no effort, she lifted them up and found the dazed body of a man in his middle-ages. Eyes weakly fluttering with shallow breath.
Making sure to not cause any unnecessary pain, Mash lifts him up and heads for the exit as Peter leaps downwards with two young girls hanging in his arms.
He nods to her encouragingly before heading for the door.
Feeling a surge of confidence, she follows him out onto the streets. Her senpai had put the girls down, pointing towards the edge of town where other survivors were running.
"You're not coming with us?" one asked.
"More people need help-"
The man in Mash's arms begins to cough. Eyes still dull, but he began to focus. "My daughters, where…"
"PÈRE!" The girls cried, running to Mash as the shielder set the man down.
The girls came to his side in a frenzied manner. Mash couldn't really follow what they were saying as they talked over each other.
"I'm...fine…" he answered slowly, breathing in and out. Raising himself up.
"Are you able to walk, monsieur? Mash asked, the man's eyes adjusting fully.
"Maybe" he attempts to get up, only to cringe as left ankle wobbles. "Ugh…"
Peter's features scrunch, "Doc, how many people do we have still alive in the city?"
"Our sensors read seventy...what are you thinking?" The hologram pondered.
Her Master glances at the girls, but shakes his head "If he can't walk I'll run him to the edge of the city-if everything is going well, the others should be handling those overgrown igaunas" Hearing a nearby roar made him grimace "Mash, keep up with search and rescue, I'll get them out of the town"
Mash nods, "Roger!"
"Cool-" Peter comes over to the man, "-alright sir, hope you're ready for a piggyback ride?"
"Excuse me?"
"No time" He says with a trickish smile, He both girls up in his arms once more after having the man cling to the brunette's back, his arms and legs clinging to the young man's torso.
"Senpai, are you sure I shouldn't come with you?"
"I'll be back in a jiffy, Mash-come on, I'm a pro at this sort of stuff (dragon's notwithstanding" he says almost under his breath. "And if I'm lucky there will be some good Samaritans to help mr…"
"...Kalman Batroc…" the man answers weakly.
"Batroc, huh? Small world…" Mash hears her senpai reply as he runs with the small family to their presumable safety.
Mash knew she shouldn't worry, this action-by any definition was smart. If the individual was immobile (and you weren't cold-blooded) it was up to the rescuer to make sure the victim in question was safe.
Nevertheless as Mash continued following her master's orders, him coming back soon enough, an unmistakable tension built under her psyche. It didn't dissuade her mind from the task at hand.
Drew more and more into the settlement, Romani directing them towards any sign of life-Mash and Peter moving debris if needed and directing the survivors towards a safe route the Doctor had gauged after evaluating the amount of phantasmal beastials nearby.
If they were injured, Peter took it upon himself to make sure they got out of the city one piece. Leaving Mash only, without any concept of if she'd see him again...stop it...
It was hectic to say the least. Emphasized by occasional wyvern they crossed paths with. They halted advancement of search and rescue, but only by a medium margin.
Peter webbed the creature to the ground, and if possible-their infernal maws. Which gave Mash to go ahead to take the draconic cousin down without breaking a sweat more or less.
"Alright...please tell me we almost have everyone out?" Peter asked, wiping sweat off his brow before reloading his web shooters.
The teens took a small breather in the back of the building. In Between another building, it created a small alcove.
The lavender head herself was beginning to feel the heat. Her armor felt uncomfortable as sweat built up. She kept this to herself.
"I'm reading about twenty life signs left and-" The doctor was cut off as the form of man in red landed in the teens hiding spot.
Nameless's blade dematerialized as he looked over his shoulder. His attire was stained with fresh wyvern blood. "Hope I'm not interrupting" he said dryly before the resounding roar of a wyverns sounded off.
Peter looks to Mash, pupils shrunk as the noticeable shadow of wyvern hangs over them and grows in intensity as the beast comes down at them from the ashened sky above.
The shielder sees him move on a dime, feeling his arms take her into his embrace as the world accelerates before her eyes as they exit the alcove
Nameless steps up to the plate, materializing his bow, summoning an arrow and launching into the pyric gob of the wyvern before it can even spew flame.
The beast gags, and the archer makes pace out of the way and stops next to the teens. The two having landed themselves on the ground, Mash on top of Peter.
The draconic cousin hits the ground like a boulder from on high, smashing the wall of the left building before dying in its entirety.
Nameless couldn't help but admire his own handiwork, "Nice" He turns over to the teens as they pick themselves up, the inking of blushes disappearing. He smirks at his master, "so nothing but trouble, eh?"
Peter rolls his eyes, "Prosecution rests"
"And after I just saved you from a face full of fire-you're heartless, master"
"Please just call me Peter...better yet, just call me Parker" Mash could read his stance, it was almost territorial with the way her master carried himself against the archer.
"Sounds too unprofessional...and oh-I get it, when I call you master it wigs you out...but when Mash does it-heh…whatever gets your sick kicks in, master!" he mocks.
"First off, ew-secondly Mash is…" he took a breath, a look of rueful countenance forming.
Mash was about to interject when Peter seemingly found the words he could get himself to say.
"...tch, we're wasting time-you go high, follow us and make sure the skies are clear while we continue getting people out" The brunette ordered, before asking Roman where the next closest survivor was.
When given the info, the shielder and archer's master was quick to get moving again. Nameless doesn't look at Mash, but speaks as he summons his bow "All that mouth, and yet something still catches him off. Make sure he doesn't get his ass burned, shielder" He then leaps to the top of the nearest building as Mash moves to follow Peter.
Mash inwardly groans. This is like Mr. Chulainn but worse...she continued helping her master get any trapped survivors out in one piece or another. Seeing the chaos the Dark Jeanne had caused, and seeing the relief in the survivors' eyes. With this all in front of her, an odd mix of hope and angst weaved within her heart.
Her master, despite his brief loss of cool- he seemed back in his element. It was like he forgot the archer class servant that irked him so. If a man, woman or child was scared, he'd throw a good humor joke to assuage their worries (it didn't always work), but the girl from Chaldea could see an exuberance flowing through him at every single life he and she salvaged.
It wasn't exactly playful, Mash had a keen enough eye to tell the difference when it came to him for as short a time as she knew him, she had seen him at his lowest, but the way he carried himself, the thrill, was almost infectious.
It was unbecoming, a stable minded part of her reminded the shielder. What rational individual, what normal human could be like this. Make jokes and yet still take the situation seriously.
This is his element she told herself (barring the wyverns), which drew her thoughts towards her own inadequacies in thoughts and feelings. She was almost numb to it now, maybe that was progress in some manner. She didn't like it though, having these worries when the stable part of her kept reminding her what truly mattered in the moment, what the bigger picture was and how meaningless these feelings were.
When she saw Peter come back to the group, after the initial encounter with the two Jeannes, she thought something was truly wrong. She thought that was his blood, and that the goofy nonchalance he had-she thought he was covering his actual wounds, that he was hurt badly, again, and using the last sliver of his strength to just meet them again. In some lackadaisical way to say goodbye… This was a worry getting the best of her she admitted to herself, and the tapping of supposed timidity became disquieted.
She just wished she could be as honest as she was when they were in the archives, almost alone, no distractions and knowing that she could still feel him and know that neither one of them was dead.
Not that she didn't mind the thrill she received from being his servant, when he allowed her to actually work with him (which was still rare, of course this is still new). Fear was there, the thoughts of death edging into her with every wyvern that bared down on them. That'd she'd die before ever truly knowing the world she was trying to reclaim, and asking what if? When her eyes drifted to her master.
This was all in the back of the psyche as the three worked to reclaim the remaining trapped survivors. The spirit within her kept her focused, and the memory of her purpose-the reason that she existed, allowed her to autonomously move with her master to the best possible outcome.
It was ridiculous for her to be this way, to want a life outside of Chaldea, that wasn't for her, it would never be for her. She could fool herself with distractions, dreams, incomplete promises of fairy tales from dusk until dawn every day, but the core of being knew-time was up when the future came for Chaldea…
Lifting the frame that blocked the exit, Pete was desperate for a bottle of water.
Five residents of the town ran past him, knowing that was it-he let go of the frame as the house began to collapse. It was no problem for him to finesse his way out and onto the brick streets.
"Merci! Merci!" he heard the survivors yell, directing towards him and Mash after the shielder gave them the route Romani suggested was the safest.
"That's the last of them right, Doc?"
"Nothing on our end Pete!" he heard the fluffy medic answer which brought a relieved yet tired smile to his face.
"Cool, what's the word on the enemy servants and the local pest issue?" the teenage vigilante asked as his irksome archer took out another cousin of the dragons. He caught the eye of the Red bowman who gave him a contentious smirk before leaping down to the streets.
"I don't have any more fliers, but from the sound of nearby-I'd say the other Jeanne's servants are still awake and alive" Nameless answered.
"Yup, that's what we're get on our end...hmm" The Doctor trailed off
"You must have some keen senses, Nameless" Mash pointed out, almost in adoration which made Pete mentally hurl. "Like one of Artemis's hunters!"
The archer gave a noncommittal nod, "I'm experienced"
Peter sighs, biting his tongue for moment as his entire being tried to hold his next word "...thanks...Nameless *cough*" It felt like sandpaper had been scraped through every inch of his mouth.
The archer says nothing, only shaking his head. "Servant remember, you wouldn't thank a hammer. Or would you?"
Why couldn't I have gotten Casty? Peter sighs before smirking at the Red bowman with devious intent-"so you're saying you're a tool?"
Nameless groans, "Grow up"
"Nah, where's the fun in that?" he responded lightly as his eyes wandered and he wished they didn't, towards his junior. What is she thinking? he asked himself,
The town was still standing, not every house, building and hobble had fallen. If the fire wasn't spreading as much as it was when the Chaldean first entered the settlement. And every few feet or so, he laid eyes on the remains of what used to be people. Torn, burned and bloodied.
He shudders as guilt wrack over him at the poor sight of this place, Wish we could have done more he lets the inadequacy dwell in the back of mind. An optimistic hope was that all of this chaos would be excised when the grail was reclaimed, and this justice the other Jeanne sought was quelled. Sounds like a miracle…
He saw Nameless looking at him intently, disgust shining through a stoic facade.
Spider-sense was dull, instincts told him to be wary. "..." I don't get this guy
Mash awaited his next order, a sympathetic front that perked him up a little
"We're not out of the fryer yet-so Andrews, Mash-"
"Aw crap-we've confirmed two more servants have entered the town. One's heading West towards Amakusa's location and the other East towards Jeanne!" The Doctor informed, his tone was harrowing.
"So she called cavalry, ugh-guess that's her signature move" He rubs his forehead
"Your orders, Master?" The shielder asked diligently.
"Nameless, go for Jeanne. Me and Mash will handle Amakusa's new playmate!"
The Red Bowman nods, "Whatever you say, master" He's then off as Peter and Mash head for the Japanese Catholic who is still locked in combat with the Impaler Prince of Wallachia himself.
Jeanne still stood, she still fought. Having impaled two of the wyverns the assassin had sent onto her, she felt tired-she had been hurt two badly. Plenty of close calls and scratches. No burns but she had been frightfully close more than she any sane person wanted to be.
Through the battle, she had seen other wyverns fall from the sky and even survivors that had been too scared to leave their houses, make a getaway as the Saint of the Flag enthralled her foes' attention from easy prey. For that I am thankful... with her flagstaff's tip angled forward against her other's thralls. Even with her continued resistance, she felt that she had expended mana-not enough to destabilize her link to this era. But she didn't believe she could use her noble phantasm if she wanted to-all she had was a flag, and that would have to do.
"My, my...you're as resilient as you are ravishing" The assassin commentated, clearly enjoying the grime the Ruler had been put through when handling the beasts she had hounded on the Saint.
The assassin viewed Jeanne from behind the last two phantasmal creatures in abject safety and in assured spectacle. Waiting for her to give the word go. "Though, I can see why my master hates you. Against insurmountable odds and the flow of fate itself, you still try to keep yourself in the good graces of people that care not for what you did" She tsktsks' the ruler. "I understand that, can't imagine the migraine she has for seeing such a foolish incarnation of herself...I can relate. Why can't girls like you understand what history says about us, that there's no way to escape it?" she snarked coldly.
"Because it would go against the oath I made when I lived-evil prospers, injustice stands if I don't. Even if my Lord doesn't say a word to me, even if my own sin drags me to hell…" she was still unsure, in all honesty. Her own sin had faced her and spoke to her. Hearing her own voice, say that all this carnage was what she in her soul wanted. She didn't feel that hate, was she the fool? "..."
The assassin scoffs at the weakened retort "Go on, finish her off. But don't you even think about devouring her! Leave some life in...I'm just salivating at the thought of what this blonde holy maiden will taste like~~"
The wyverns obey, they begin their assault as two newcomers enter the stage.
Like a bolt from a thunderstorm, an arrow sails and pierces the protruding neck of one the wyverns. It hisses in pain, as the archer known as Nameless comes out of an alleyway and to the right of the assassin.
Taking the bull by the horns, Jeanne makes pace and stabs the wyvern the archer had struck as the other wyvern becomes vexed by a radiant sphere of light that looks as if it had come from elysium itself.
Nameless promptly takes aim at the dark maiden, launching the arrow and hitting the assassin square in the arm as she attempts to dodge.
Her eyes under her mask blaze red "INSOLENT WHELP!" she cried in pain, a predator's rage shown through yellow irises as she glared at the servant who dared to strike her. She pauses, "do I know you?"
"Never seen you before in my life" He smirks, materializing another arrow as the second newcomer makes her debut, a glass rose landing at the feet of the assassin as Jeanne takes the opportunity to take down the final wyvern.
Walking into the fray with an almost headstrong though jaunty flair, even through the ugliness the settlement had fallen she sifted through and was touched by none of it. With a smile that captures any heart, clad in a regal red a-line dress, strutting in bloodless thigh high boots, short red gloves and to top it all with a plump red cap. The light-toned, chalk haired and azure eyed petite girl made her voice known-"Inelegant, that is my word for you" she said with a flowery cantour, looking straight into the vexful eyes of the assassin without fear. "With such beauty you seek to harm the innocent. You take away their freedom, their rights through this bloodshed and hatred. It's rather unladylike to shackle yourself to such nasty notions" she teased.
The assassin growls, "Wonderful…" She cradles her winged arm "...more interlopers!"
"Interloper? No, no...I could never be an interloper. This country is my home, it's love I give freely and I'm paid back in full each and every time no matter the blemishes perceived. That's what it means to be its Queen" she says wistfully, aiming her palms at the assassin as Nameless prepares to take his next shot.
The assassin scoffs "I feel a migraine coming about...give your love freely to your people? What a backwards joke!"
"Jokes are funny" she fired back lackadaisical.
"So you on our side, princess?" The archer asked, his sight never leaving the assassin.
The servant simply smiles, "If you are a hero of justice, and you believe in all that is good in this beautiful word-my name is Marie Antoinette, and if I see in that cold exterior the heart of someone genial. Then my answer is yes"
The archer groans, "A simple yes would have worked, you know?" he commented in an annoyed tone.
"Nameless! She was just answering your question!" The Ruler chastised, the Saint of the Flag readying herself to finish off the assassin. "My apologies for his rudeness, your majesty" she apologized profusely.
Marie snickers it off, "It didn't even strike me, Saint Jeanne D'arc"
Jeanne is taken aback, "You know who I am?"
"Of course! How could I no-"
The archer piped in, "Conversation later! Let's just kill-"
He never finished, as pikes came up from the streets.
A smile strewn across his face, his body suffering blood loss that would kill a normal man. Pierce and cut by the priest that had killed one incarnation of himself. Vlad felt as right as rain as he and the ruler faced each other in the middle of the street, nothing behind them but remnants of a once bustling society.
"I swear you were easier to kill last time" The priest noted, his attire disheveled and body bruised and cut when the lancer had struck him. Luckily the servant hadn't got him anywhere important. "But I suppose being stitched with another classes advantages will keep you going longer than anyone expects, even a false vampire like yourself"
"Heh...you know what my master did to us? Impressive!" He mocked praise.
"Ruler, Amakusa Shirou Tokisada." He introduced himself.
"I thought your name was Kotomine?" Unknown to the priest, the lancer listens. "And if we're talking semantics, you stole the kill after letting others take me on!" There was less noise in the settlement, and not a hint of eyes in the sky. Did that woman finish the job and send the wyverns away?
"That's neither here nor there" Amakusa readied his blade, as did Vlad.
"Agreed" Slamming his spear into the brick he stood upon. He forced the priest to evade-allowing him a moment to unleash his noble phantasm upon. "Covered in blood I hereby offer my-" He caught the sound of it before his eyes saw him.
Metal feet running, coming from behind him.
He holds his tongue, and swings the sharp edge of his spear back to cut the newcomer dead. He realized their death would not be instant as the blade hit the face of an cross-like escutcheon, spark spewed briefly when contact occurred. "Well now..."
Behind the shield was a lavender haired girl, in her late teens perhaps garbed in armor similar to a knight, though lacking the usual accouterment one would expect on a knight.
"...more prey to satiate my master's bloody justice!"
And behind her was the brunette boy who was humiliated in La Charite, his coat still stained in the blood Carmilla had drowned him in. "Don't really see how this is justice-" With a quick flick of his wrist, Vlad's eyes go dark. "-but you do you, except don't...holy crap are those fangs?"
Fangs bared in frustration "GAW!" concentration is lost and the Prince Impaler finds him knocked back by the lavender head and brunette in unison. Keeping on his toes, he tears away the gunk on his eyes and narrowly dodges the katana blade of the priest.
His back is then slammed by a violet hued sphere from the side priest was previously. He stumbles towards the side, his black coat singed but not destroyed. Clenching his spear, he forces himself to stand up straight and face his foes
"Sorry for ruining the crescendo. But I thought that this performance needed some of my flair" The servant spoke, voice entwined with smug cattiness and clothed the black wear befitting a composer, accentuated with green and a flowing sash of purple. The gaunt gentleman, with almost platinum blonde flowing locks, looked as though the sun never hit his skin. He wistfully held a baton in his right hand.
The brunette and lavender head looked to the servant, "You're not on his side?"
The composer snorts, "Heaven's no. Believe it or not, blood play is not one my quirks" the man jests
"...I never assumed it was.." the brunette replies awkwardly, "But if you're not on team murder-death-kill, that's good enough for me!" aiming his wrists at Vlad he fires gunk. "Four against one, seems a tad unfair, right?"
Not one to fall for the same trick twice, he slashes the goo in the air. "Yes, but odds always change" Listening, he confirms it. There was only the crackling of fire now. Not a single wyvern left. "As they have now, hmm my master will be displeased…"
"That's what I'm hoping for, Count Dracula" The brunette snarked
"Now you're pushing it, boy!" Vlad sneered.
"And you've been so polite so far"
"Your orders, Peter?" Amakusa asks
The brunette ready himself into a fight stance, getting a surprised look from the composer and a clearly questionable eye of the ruler "Get him, nothing fancy!" With that, he and the girl head for Vlad.
The winds have changed Vlad thought, dematerializing his spear and bashing himself through the wall of the structure he'd been herded into. She'll be furious. But it's no use fighting when the odds are truly out of your favor
He hurls himself through another wall as the chase begins. Knowing his partner was alive, he heads for her.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" The assassin asks, enraged as the Impaler prince scoops her up in his arms.
He heads towards a path of less resistance as an arrow flies by his skull. "Retreating"
"Are you moronic? You're keeping me from my prey!" she objected.
Vlad shakes his head, "Our soldiers are dead, you're wounded and we are now outnumbered. Think!"
"Are you calling me an idiot?"
"No Elizabeth, I'm not-even as an adult you are incorrigible"
Carmilla frowns, "Do not treat me like that child!" she hissed.
Vlad sighs, looking over his shoulder and sees that the enemy servants and that master weren't far behind.
With the amount of fighting he did, he didn't think the chances of success were in their favor. They needed an exit strategy, or distraction of some sort. If not, it wasn't likely either he or the Countess of Blood would walk out the city in one piece.
Turning into an alleyway, he makes motions to evade the purview of their pursuers. Vlad wasn't usually one for retreats, but any tactician worth their salt knows that its better to die another day and learn from their failings than to keep attacking like a wounded animal caught in a corner. And by no means, even with the Dragon Witch's rewriting of his graph, would he be a wounded animal, or some barbaric predator.
He was not the warrior, he was the king. And a king's duty is to his people and those he is allied with. The woman may not have gotten that when she still lived, but he didn't think less of her for this (even if an aspect of his saint graph felt a righteous indignation towards her younger incarnation). "Do you have a plan?" she asked, her voice still annoyed though an inkling of pain was there as she felt clutched her wound.
He didn't answer, ducking as the sphere of mana flew forth towards his frame.
"Because I don't think they're going to stop"
An arrow hits his back, yet it does not impede his pace. He clenches his teeth and lets it fuel his escape as they approach an edge of the settlement.
His leather boots leave brick and meet grass, and he has to swallow his pride as he begins to speak. "We'll contact our master, have her use the grail to return us to Orleans!"
"Do you think she'll really do that? That woman is fickle!"
"Unless you want to die ingloriously as you did in your life-this is our option!"
"You sound like a coward…"
"You still have plenty to learn, Elizabeth-" She baps him on the head with her staff, he snarls at her.
"Stupid. Old. Man."
Temperance was always needed when dealing with this one "Just focus!" He feels something cling to his back, his movement hindered as he jerks backwards with Carmilla still in his clutches. He looks over his shoulder and sees the brunette master holding the line, like the strand of spider's web it clung to him. He heals dug into the dirt, using strength too inhuman for one of his stature, age, or possible ability. How is he doing that? It didn't seem like magecraft
The servants ran past him, as the struggle went onward. It was now or never, the Prince of Wallachia added his own voice, his own focus to their plea to their master.
And as the archer, priest, his master's other and the lavender haired girl came for them with their armament,
As the composer and idol-esque girl that reminded him of his the assassin's younger aspects wishes, materialized mana to strike them where they stood,
-The Dragon Witch answered, their forms dematerialized and they returned to their master's domain.
Watching his webline limp to the ground, moving with the wind as it, Peter pinched his end of the line from the web shooters.
"Did we get the Marilyn Manson's groupies?" he asked, unsure of watch just happened as he didn't see the slicing of flesh or impact of Mash's shield.
"No, there wasn't any confirmation of their spirit origins ceasing on our end" Roman confirmed. "Which means they might have been pulled away by Dark Jeanne either via the grail or by some other means"
"Oh...okay" Some part of him was kind of relieved. Why? They didn't die. He hadn't crossed the line. They're already dead, it doesn't matter...plus they killed people! He bit his lips, 'Then Why Didn't You?' He groans. They look alive, bleed like they're alive...His pupils shrunk and breath haggard.
"Ooh, are you alright?" Her pure voice broke his concentration, and the fact that her darling features were close to his made him nearly jump out of his spine.
"YAH!" Jumping back away from her by ten feet, he feels his heart race.
The composer gave her guff for this, "Marie! Mind your manners, not every is as accommodating to your personality as you may think!"
The girl laughed him off, "I meant no harm, its not as if I had you check on him. He may have nearly keeled over if I had!" she teased.
"You're so cruel, Marie"
"But you still love me!" She bumped his shoulder playfully.
"And for that I deserve Hell's symphony for relating myself to someone so cruel!" he fired back with a mischievous grin, feigning despair with his head slouching backwards towards the night sky and an open backhand on his forehead.
Nameless gloured, "Well aren't you two something…OW!" he felt Jeanne and Amakusa slap the back of his head.
"Be respectful!" they said in unison.
The archer frowned, cursing under his breath
Peter oriented himself, redfaced from his reaction. "Sorry about that, and also-thanks for the help"
"Yes, thank you!" Mash added.
"Our pleasure~!" The red-hatted girl replied graciously, "Even if this one was putsy-footed about it!"
The Composer rolls his eyes, "I am not fighter, at best-I can compose a splendid light show of sound and music" he defended
"Pish posh, Amadeus" Marie then looked to Jeanne, "We were wayward in all honesty, going from town to town. Some still standing, while others were burnt to the crisp. We heard tale of France's Saviour being the mastermind of such chaos…"
Jeanne turned away from the petite girl, a look of distraught in her amethyst eyes.
"...but seeing as you were fighting that servant, it was clearly a cruel joke by one with a sense of humor as bad as him" she motioned to her companion.
Amadeus blows airs.
A cruel stillness overcame the group, "Yeah...uh, here's the thing about that-hmm...how do I put this?" Peter asked himself.
Nameless took the reigns without care, "It is Jeanne D'arc, a separate one who apparently has a dragon fixation for some reason"
Marie queried her eyes, "No."
"What do you mean, no?"
Jeanne rebuffed as well, "Yes, your majesty-"
Your majesty? Amkusa, Mash and Peter mouthed in confusion
"-it's true. My hate has formed itself into someone. A part of me I apparently did not acknowledge, and clearly ignored. I want to destroy France for what its people did to me. Even if I do not hold this hate as she does, I cannot deny it when I hear her desires with my own voice, and my own features" she admittedly solemnly. "She is the havoc I want for the sentence deemed to me…"
"I still don't believe that, Jeanne…" the priest said softly, "...it wouldn't make sense for who you are remembered as"
The Saint of the Flag sighed "Thank you, Amakusa but-"
Marie came to her and took her hand with a beaming smile. "That is my thinking as well. Saint Jeanne D'arc, seeing you now, yet so with that frown...I see a purity that cannot hold a hate like that. When I was young, I was told stories of your exploits. A gallant girl, like a knight, pure in her decisions and belief in the world. A lily in a time that is not remembered fondly"
Jeanne blushes at the praise, the girl's beaming expression breaking through the despair.
"For someone to put themselves through so much sacrifice, torment and despair, but leave their life with grace...that isn't someone who holds hate in their heart"
Nameless clenches his fists, his head downcast as Marie spoke.
Weird meeting someone so...positive? Peter thought, the back of his mind dragging what he knew about Jeanne from the history books. As well as a stroke of cynicism, that doesn't sound realistic at all...everyone hates. It'd be cool if you could just live and let live but... 'God Is Coming' etched into their bodies. Spirals carved into their faces, I think some of them are still alive! Hairs stood on the back of his neck, as the memory went through him like a sickness. I don't see how anyone can just be okay with that. A better part of himself kept his mouth shut, the girl's nature overwhelming his memories of some of the worst few months of his life. Besides, the world is not all doom and gloom. His eyes drew toward Mash, she returned this with a happy nod. She was just as enraptured by Marie's presence.
Jeanne breaths in, "Thank you, your Majesty" she relents to the red-hatted girl's coaxing.
"It's my honor, Saint Jeanne D'arc!" Her gracious smile was infectious.
"...please just call me Jeanne, if that is alright with you, your Majesty?" The Saint of the Flag asked in earnest.
Marie tapped her chin, "If that's the case, then you may call me Marie...ooh, through all the excitement-we forgot to properly introduce ourselves!" She gazed upon the in whole, and with a refined motion, she removed her red cap and bowed, "I am, Rider-class Marie Antoinette!"
The composer bowed as well, though his gesture was more jester-like "I am Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Caster-class…" He looked up to see the blank look of Peter. "...have you perhaps not heard of us...well we are in an era where do not exist as of yet so-"
He was cut short as a fierce call rang in the air, "JEANNE!" Introduction would happen later, perhaps.
The Saint of the Flag recognized that voice to the bottom of her heart, she turned towards the North. Several yards away, from the clearing of the forest at the edge of the settlement (where Romani had directed the survivors to run), came a sixty-man strong battalion of French soldiers.
"THE WITCH!"
"HERETIC!"
"MURDEROUS HARLOT!" A select few soldiers cried as they headed out to face the group, others checked on the survivor's to gather information.
Leading the march was Jeanne's closest confidant, friend and strongest supporter. "Gille…" she answered him reluctantly.
Striding in his silver armor, long raver hair and gaunt yet handsome exterior. Other than that, he didn't seem that hyped up.
"That's unfortunate," Amakusa said bluntly.
Peter looked at Jeanne, "You know that guy? Wait a minute-did you say Gille?" It clicked, he was less ghastly but the leading knight was a picture perfect twin to the garishly garbed bug-eyed man that the Dark Jeanne had summoned.
"As in the man who inspired Bluebeard? Gille De Rais!" Mash's voice was at the edge, she had read stories about him. What he did to children after Jeanne was executed. It had been the story to give her nightmares when she was young, ones that didn't involve her sole purpose. Fantastical nightmares that played with one's most basic fears and imaginations.
"It is you, Jeanne!" he said like his life had been saved, his eyes thankful like a beggar who had been starved of kindness and warmth. "Please tell me what-"
"SEE! IT IS THAT ROTTEN WENCH!" one soldier with him yelled.
"GET HER!" with his sword raised he began to run.
"Wait no! HOLD!" the captain of the battalion cried, but his pleas were ignored at the soldier's own needs for justice, for the blood she had spilled, penance must be realized.
"Aw crud…" The brunette sighed, they're scared, Pete...goddamnit!
Mash readied her shield, "Do we fight them, master?"
"Yeah...Doc, any servants?"
The Doctor confirmed no such trace from the incoming battalion.
"Kid gloves then, no killing-"
"Of course you'd say that" the Archer snarked, materializing his bow with an arrow in it within a moment of its formation.
"Oh excuse me for not wanting to needlessly kill people? It's not like it'd make us just as bad as guys we were just fighting!" Peter snapped back.
"And what if that's the only way we can win?"
"There's always another option! Plus, they aren't servants!"
"One of them is going to be a child killer…" The Bowman reminds him.
"..." He didn't have a response, begrudgingly a sickening answer came to him "...he hasn't done that yet"
"Let him throw the first punch, huh?" He chuckles darkly, "Glad you give him the the benefit of the doubt-hey, how did we meet again?"
"Master, Nameless please-" Mash begged, though she was cut off.
"Keep trying to play hero, master" Nameless chided his master, "Pretty sure that's what got you all roughed up just a few hours ago... and if that's the case, where's your mask? Don't you want to hide that soft exterior?" He flashes him a contemptible smirk.
Peter's pupils shrink, "What?" his voice hollow, form shimmers of sight and his palms spark for mere moment.
"Is it necessary for you two to argue right now?" The priest asked, not having his sword but instead bearing his fists. "Jeanne, is there any way we can maybe pacify them?"
Jeanne was lost in thought, she hadn't raised any limb or digit for the coming battle.
"Oh...I apologize for being insensitive" He bit his lip and sighed, bracing himself for conflict.
Amadeus' voice was catty "Seems things are getting a bit hectic again...Marie, would you mind if I perform for our uninvited guests?"
The Queen of Lilies nodded with a tip of her red cap, "You wouldn't be you if you didn't?"
"Splendid! Well if all of you don't mind! Time For A Performance…" with exacting gestures of baton, particles of mana formed around him and began to reshape into golden bodies "...Enjoy It To The Fullest! Requiem For Death!" The particles became angelic golden statues in the guise of headless musicians. Playing a score so enthralling it could drive those who heard to illness if the composer deemed it necessary.
And necessary, Amadeus deemed it.
The French battalion fell ill, becoming lethargic, slower and some collapsing under their own weight. "Jeanne...please…tell me…" Gille collapses into unconsciousness.
Mozart turned back to the group with a cocksure grin, "Best we make haste before anymore trouble finds our way" He gestures towards a forested area farther away, "shall we?"
Thanks always to Unsettling-A.I.R. and Sawtooth44 for helping me with the rewrites. Other than that, enjoy your your evening/morning/afternoon-peace!