Chapter 146: The Pursuers

While silence might well have permeated throughout the room, the quiet was anything but comfortable. The tension was thick, almost like syrup as the two individuals remained focused on their own tasks. Jeanne did not even attempt to start up a conversation with Sulyvahn in the time they had been left alone to their own devices.

The same could be said for Sulyvahn, the Caster having little desire to invoke a discussion with the Saint on the other end of the spectrum. The feelings the two held towards one another were apparent and if ignoring the other was something they could do, then it would have been acceptable.

Sulyvahn wasn't sure how Jeanne felt, he didn't truly care either, but he could barely tolerate being in the same room as her. Making an effort to keep his focus solely on the wall while he waited for his spell to finish, it was nothing complicated through any stretch of the imagination but it was something that would take time to show results. Especially since he was making use of mere scraps to formulate it.

There was something eerily familiar about this situation, being forced to remain in a cold place with people he didn't care for along with the hopelessly despondent. It very much reminded him of 'Home' or as close to a home as one could get from Ariandel. This entire situation was akin to a nostalgic trip for him.

It just so happened to be a trip into Hell.

A faint rustle of fabric reached his ears, the Caster turned in his seat slightly and adjusted his arm to allow him to turn his head, resting his cheek on his fist and his elbow on the armrest of the chair, in order to catch a glimpse of the direction the noise was coming from. He caught a faint glimpse of Jeanne - once more - adjusting the blankets and cushions near the frozen man.

For the umpteenth time in the last…however long it had been, he'd heard the same noise at least several times by this point. It was slowly forming a pattern where the woman would make slight adjustments to the blankets before she retreated back to her position of staring out of the slightly ajar curtain into the wasteland outside.

Finishing up her final movements, the woman gave herself a single nod of the head before she rose up once more. Her head darted to the side.

She and Sulyvahn locked eyes, the two stared at the other in silence for several moments which almost stretched out into an eternity. Jeanne broke contact first, her expression almost dismissive as she walked back to her original post and resumed her watch. Sulyvahn stared at her back, then glanced towards the man once more. He hadn't shifted once since they had found him and the only movements from his body came from the ones they had done to him.

There was little reason for Jeanne to continually mess around with the scraps of bedding other than to entertain herself.

A gentle sigh reached his ears "The storm has not lessened." Jeanne commented, most likely to herself considering that it was little more than a mutter under her breath.

Sulyvahn could have let the comment slide without incident, however he was pressed for stimulus and until his spell was completed, there was only so much he could gain from staring at the same patch of peeling wall plaster. At this point, between a conversation with the Saint and watching the passage of time upon this hut, he could not truly decide which of the two was worse.

"It won't." He stated after a moment, turning himself back around and multitasking, his back to Jeanne as he stared at the wall. Metal jingled as Jeanne most likely turned in his direction "The storm will never quite abate…though there will most likely be moments where it is thinner than right now."

"Is that so?" Jeanne questioned without any real emotion in her tone "How long do these moments of respite last?"

Sulyvahn let out an ugly snort "Hardly a moment of respite. Merely a time where it hurts less to be outside, though if you consider that a respite then I am sure-"

"An answer to my question would be more appreciated." Jeanne cut him off, a slight tinge of exasperation in her voice made it clear she wasn't in the mood to entertain another of his lessons. That was fine, he'd long since grown used to the idea that there was no cure for idiocy.

"...Sometimes hours, sometimes minutes." Sulyvahn responded after a moment, his shoulders rose and fell with an uncaring shrug "Sometimes the respite might even last days…that was the times where wandering the outside was more doable. I doubt we shall be as fortunate as that."

"...Navigating the cold will be difficult."

"I suppose France was not cursed with this climate." Sulyvahn commented without really meaning to, it was little more than an observation but he doubted that the woman had ever experienced this level of chill.

"I do not believe there are many places in the world that have experienced this climate." She answered, a rustle of cloth indicated she had turned back around.

"How fortunate for them."

Another silence fell upon the duo, then Jeanne interrupted it once more "How long have we been here?"

Sulyvahn pondered the question for a moment "...An hour, I would suppose. Perhaps more. Perhaps less, though not by a wide margin. Though an hour without contact from the Master is more indicative of our situation than the weather."

Jeanne made a curious noise "You can tell the length of time we have been here?"

"I have experience with these storms." Sulyvahn dismissed "Growing up in the cold of Ariandel grants once the ability to measure the passage of time with no small degree of accuracy, even in the thick blizzards of the world." his fingers uncurled themselves from the fist on his cheek, the digits resting atop his face. "Depending upon the time we arrived, it will be difficult to say when nightfall arises. I would suppose…within the next five or so hours."

"You can tell that much?" There was a touch of surprise in her voice, something that would have brought a smile to Sulyvahn's face if they were discussing any other topic.

Not Ariandel.

Never Ariandel.

"Yes. I caught a glimpse of the sky as we made our way here. It was already past noon when we arrived, combined with our time here the night will come and that is when we will be forced into refuge. If we are to move, it will have to be during the waning hours of the day."

"It will most likely have to be soon." Was the response he received from the Saint, a certain intensity to her voice that made it clear it was less of a request and more of a demand. It was laughable that she thought to order him, but on this one issue she was not incorrect. Being caught in this house for hours without moving or without the chance to gain better materials would hamper his efforts.

"Most likely, yes." He begrudgingly agreed "...Do you intend to sling the man over your shoulder and carry him out?"

Jeanne was silent for a moment, then she exhaled and replied to him with something that actually caught him off guard. "I do not."

Sulyvahn lowered his right hand down, the head of the Pontiff turned to look over his shoulder at the woman. He met the emotionless mask of the Saint with his wooden features creaking, his bark like skin creased as his brows rose up his forehead with a quiet groan. "Really? After all that obstinate behaviour of yours, you intend to just leave him here?"

The woman thinned her lips in displeasure "Though it is not a choice I am comfortable with, there is little either of us can truly do to aid him at this moment beyond ensuring his is comfortable when he awakens-"

"If."

"-When." Jeanne stressed once more, her lips tightening into a frown and her eyes narrowing "If what you spoke of earlier is true and there are beings in the cold, then if we are attacked there is little I shall be able to do to defend this man. As such, taking him with us would put him in far greater danger than leaving him here. At the very least, there is no cause to do him harm, is there?"

The Caster stared at her in silence for a moment, then made a small noise of agreement "No, there is no cause to harm him. He is one with the storm at this point, if this land is akin to the Painted world then they would never do something as foolish as harming one who has accepted the rot." he sighed "If he were to awaken? The story would be quite different."

Jeanne's face grew heavy with understanding of his words "You infer they would kill him?"

"Possibly." Sulyvahn shrugged, turning back around "It would depend upon who he was. If he posed a threat to the world, they would most certainly do just that in order to keep the peace. Or they might try to convert him into one who would defend this world unto his dying breath."

"Defending this land?" Jeanne could not quite contain her incredulity "For what reason would someone do that?"

"...That, girl, is the crux of the matter." Sulyvahn responded with a rather emotionless tone of voice. His head jolted ever so slightly, a faint humming sound came from the direction of the table behind him. Both he and Jeanne turned themselves to face it, the Caster watching as the writing pulsed repeatedly with a faint blue lighting.

"Hmph. Fortunate timing." Sulyvahn muttered, rousing from his seat and turning his body towards the desk. Stepping around the seat, he walked towards the table and leaned over it. The symbols carved into the wood raised themselves into the air, twisting and turning as they rearranged themselves into what looked like a paragraph of runic lines.

If Jeanne had anything to say about it, she didn't voice it, content to remain silent as Sulyvahn read through the lines before glancing down at the blood smear on the desk once more. After a moment longer, he turned his head and looked past the Saint towards the man still slumped against the wall with his eyes closed, a pillow under his head and a blanket draped over his body.

"...That is unusual." His voice was tinged with an emotion Jeanne clearly wasn't used to, given how she turned from the direction he had been staring and looked at his face with no small amount of intrigue. He didn't care for her curiosity at this time, what mattered was what the results of the spell had revealed to him.

"What?" Jeanne asked after a moment, pressuring him slightly "Has your spell revealed something of importance?"

Sulyvahn didn't reply to her question for a moment, turning his head back to face the lines and giving them another quick read to ensure he had not been mistaken. A second and third read confirmed that what was in front of him was indeed the truth. "It would seem that this is not quite the despair I am familiar with afterall."

"Excuse me?"

"Blood contains memories, the essence of the soul." Sulyvahn explained, tapping his fingers on the desk in a steady tempo "This blood is entranced. As though the memories themselves have been altered, or perhaps the mind is under some affect. It is seeped in magic, faint but noticeable all the same."

He paused for a moment "Especially because I doubt that this peasant is adept in the mystic arts of sorcery, and the magic itself does not truly originate from his blood, rather it has become attached to it. Like paint over a canvas…"

Jeanne narrowed her eyes ever so slightly, turning to the man once more "Then is it some manner of spell that has turned him to this state?"

"So it seems." Sulyvahn muttered "Though it is odd…ordinarily a human would still reject this manner of spell, or they would be actively resisting it. He would still be affected but he would likely remain conscious, I would assume." he made a small noise of intrigue "Though this is supposition on my part, I am not familiar with this branch of Sorcery, though it is intriguing in some parts…not at all like the craft I bestowed upon the Outrider knights yet, at the same time, they are both spells to target the mind…"

"Then this storm is turning people to this." Jeanne confirmed with a grim nod of the head, glancing down at the man and frowning "Is there a method of freeing him?"

"Not as such." Sulyvahn dismissed quickly "Even if we did wake him from his slumber, there is no reason to suppose that he would not turn to the cold once more. Especially as this room is thick with this paint of apathy." stepping back from the table, Sulyvahn shifted himself, sweeping his left hand through the writing and dismissing it before moving to cross his arms over his chest. "At the very least, we have confirmed it is indeed a spell that has brought this about. Though how deeply it runs is not something I can discern from such pitiful conditions."

"It is more than we knew when we first arrived, though the question of why someone would do this and how to remove it still remains."

"Destroying the spell would likely mean to end the caster or the object responsible for its creation." The Pontiff responded with a dismissive grunt "Though the motivation of the fool behind this means nothing to me. All we need concern ourselves with is how easy it shall be to slay them. Given that this spell likely covers all of London, I would assume they are using the Holy Grail to fuel this…perversion."

Jeanne paused, raising an eyebrow at the wording of the Caster and giving him a slightly curious look. Sulyvahn ignored it, or he didn't register it in the first place.

"We shall have to leave this place." He announced, turning to the direction of the door "We are in an urban environment, therefore shelter will likely be plentiful. With your magic resistance and my physiology, neither of us will be hampered by the cold to any great effect. It would also serve to test the other denizens to see if they are inhabited by this same position of the mind."

Jeanne was still staring at him as he marched towards the door, not even glancing at her to see if she had anything to say of his words. "You shall not kill them." She felt the need to state, to his credit, Sulyvahn actually paused at her words.

The Pontiff looked over his shoulder, Jeanne suspected that if he had a face he would have been staring at her as though she was an idiot. Though she felt it said more about him that she actually had to inform him not to kill the people they were here to save.

"Kill them? I have no reason to do something as stupid as that." Sulyvahn spat as though the notion was bewildering to him, Jeanne blinked at his words. "They are poisoned in a manner I can cure, they are still healthy of soul and there is no cause to slay them." Turning back around, he flung the door open and weathered the gust of wind that rushed into his face without so much as flinching.

The brows of the Saint furrowed as she followed after him, casting one final look to the man and then turning to face the Pontiff as he stepped into the cold. His motivations were wildly differing. One moment he was all for the killing of the man he proclaimed as worthless and in the next moment he was all but calling her insane for even debating the notion of killing them at all.

It didn't take a genius to figure that there was something about this place affecting the Caster's rationality. It was just a matter of figuring out what, her own problems with the man aside. There was something there that she had glimpsed for a split second, he had called the man healthy of soul.

For someone who would otherwise be known as an arrogant tyrant, the fact he could still proclaim someone as healthy and in need of curing was something that struck Jeanne as quite strange. There was an intensity to his words, a sense of purpose that had been otherwise missing from their previous conversations.

And she was going to determine what it was, whether the Pontiff liked it or not.


The diamond shaped helm of the Outrider rested on the floor, Ash staring at the frozen loaf of bread in his hand for a few moments, then turned his attention back onto Nobunaga as she looked through the other supplies they had raided from the kitchen.

Combined with the brown satchel bag full of potatoes, it was certainly something they could make use of. That being said, Ash didn't know whether or not this was an acceptable amount to have for Ritsuka. He internally frowned at his own lack of knowledge coming into play.

If this had been any other situation, he could have differed to those who clearly understood the workings of the kitchen such as Archer, Boudica or Siegfried. With their situation as it was, they were left to their own devices.

Nobunaga had - unfortunately - been in the same situation as him.

"I just liked making tea." She had explained to him rather simply enough while shrugging her shoulders "I know this stuff is edible though, will probably need to be warmed up though."

Ash didn't know the first thing about cooking.

"How long are you gonna stare at the bread?" He was broken out of his musings by Nobunaga, the woman looking towards him with an impatient expression as she gestured to the box on his hip. "Just put it with the potatoes and then let's work on thinking up a transport plan."

"Yes…You are right." Ash responded, though still following through with the instructions of the Archer as he flipped open his box and placed the hardened bread roll into the container before snapping the lid closed. He fell into another silence after answering her, the woman turned her head in his direction, raising an eyebrow ever so slightly as she stared at him

"What are you thinking about?" Ash blinked at the question, returning his attention to Nobunaga and seeing her staring at him from the corner of her eye. Her face was a perfect mask, her arms crossed over her chest and eyes only showing mild curiosity.

"...Nothing important."

"If it was nothing important, you would not have stared at a roll of bread for nearly a full minute in silence." Nobunaga's voice lacked any sort of amusement, her words cutting through the meagre defence of the Saber and earning a slight frown from him. Still giving him a side-eyed look, she continued onwards. "I am asking for your thoughts, however irrelevant you might find them, to be laid bare. It is better that whatever stray curiosity you have is dealt with before we depart."

Ash thinned his lips for a moment, he could not deny her words. In truth, he was certain that even if he dismissed this thought at this present moment, it would simply return at a later date. Besides, Nobunaga had experience in leading individuals, so it might well be possible that she had some experience in this line of inquiry.

"I was thinking of the food we recovered." Ash replied, turning his body fully to face the sitting Archer, the woman's face remained unmoved at his words. Her expression still cold, though her eyes seemingly gesturing for him to continue on with his point.

"As I have never partaken in eating before - at least, not in any manner that was noteworthy - nor have I ever prepared food, I have no way of knowing what to look for in the supplies we have taken."

The mask remained unbroken with the rather odd sentence, though Nobunaga did give out a mildly amused hum as she nodded her head once. "Oh, I see what you mean. Yeah, you'd be pretty terrible if it came to foraging or something."

A blink from the unkindled was her initial response, several more followed as his face shifted into the picture of innocent confusion as he parroted the word back to her. "Foraging?" He frowned "I am familiar with scavenging ruins and the deceased for weapons and supplies-"

A hand was raised to cut him off "Not that manner of foraging. The type that a woodland scavenger would perform. Picking through the wilderness for nuts, berries and other edible plants." She explained with a somewhat bored tone, not really paying attention to him and focusing on the fireplace once more, sitting in the one wooden chair they had saved, with her arms slowly returning to their original position "Mushrooms as well. You can eat a few wild plants, the problem is that sometimes you can end up eating the wrong planet that will kill you."

The Saber raised his brows "That is a concern? I consumed berries with little thought for their effects upon me. At least, the berries I ate worked to counteract poison, rather than inflict it."

"Huh, that sounds pretty handy." Nobunaga grunted in mild intrigue, leaning back in her seat and glancing towards the Saber from the corner of her eye. "Though I would prefer you make your point quickly. I assume it was not simply to tell me you have little experience in botany."

Ash made a small dissatisfied noise "It is merely that…I understand that the food such as potatoes must be cooked before they are consumed, much like some meats. Only that…I do not know how to cook them in the first place." he explained once more "The Singularity in London demonstrated this once before when we were cut off from communication with Chaldea, had we been in the woodlands for longer I do not know how Ritsuka would have kept up his strength."

"Oooooh." A noise of understanding passed through the throat of the shorter woman as she nodded her head up and down. "Just learn how to cook then, if it worries you that much." She stated with a shrug of her shoulders "Not like there aren't plenty of people in Chaldea who can't teach you. There's that guy who is undead like you and runs the kitchens, right?" she looked at him "There's also the Red Archer and the friendly Rider. Sure she'd teach you as well…"

There was a brief pause before her face turned into a slight scowl "Don't ask the cat. I really don't get why you would have someone with furry hands touching your food. That just sounds disgusting in all sorts of ways."

The blonde Saber raised an eyebrow at her "Is it that simple?" he asked after a moment "My only duty is to protect Ritsuka, there are others who can fulfil that requirement of sustaining him…"

"What if they aren't around though?" Nobunaga pointed out with a shrug "What would you do if he was here, right now, and Mash wasn't? Would you feed him raw potatoes and crusty frozen bread?" she turned to him, giving him an incredulous expression "See. You have identified a weakness, just learn how to correct it."

"I…suppose." Ash admitted after a small moment of hesitation. While the skill of cooking might not ever be something he would personally use for his own benefit, it would be something that might come into play with Ritsuka. It might well be easier to consider it akin to carrying around multiple weapons with the belief that the right weapon could play a pivotal role in the correct moment.

That line of thinking made sense to him, giving a single nod of the head with much more confidence than last time. "Yes. I will make inquiries to Siegward upon our return after this Singularity has been concluded. Even if the skill might not come into play, it would be useful to have and not need, rather than to need and be incapable."

"Yeah, sure." The Archer gave a wave of her hand that indicated she wasn't that invested in his new declaration, but she at least did the courtesy of responding to his words. With a small huff, she rose up from her seat and cracked her neck. "Now that we have entertained this line of thinking, we shall return to the more pressing issue of transport."

Turning to the Saber, her face was awash with focus. "Though wandering back into the blizzard is hardly something I would advise, we are left with few alternatives. Though this is an urban environment and the spacing between houses in London is virtually non-existent unless you intend to cross the street."

Ash silently nodded his head up and down.

"Though walking through the walls is not an option-"

"It's not?" Ash's innocent tone of voice brought an incredulous look upon the face of the Archer, the woman frowned at his words, then pointed to the wall directly to their left.

"Of course not." She snapped at him, though not unkindly. "Not unless you wished to bring the entire building down on our heads. The structure of this house is in poor enough condition as it is, the very last thing that is required is you punching holes in the side of the supports. Besides, it would be loud enough to attract attention and if - on the off chance - we stumble upon someone conscious, our welcome would be less than warm."

"I see." Ash nodded his head at her explanation "Then walking the snow is our only course of action if we are to leave this place."

"Hmmm." Nobunaga nodded her head up and down "I would assume us to be in the slums of some sort. Though without a map or a guide, we shall be walking around blind." she didn't direct that part of the statement to Ash, moreso herself as her eyes glanced away from him. Her hands falling to her hips. "We will need to remain observant for street signs."

"...I cannot read." Ash stated after a moment of silence, Nobunaga paused and then looked at him oddly.

"Why not?"

"It wasn't necessary for me to read in order to kill things." Ash explained with a shrug of his shoulders "And anything I did learn either came through word of mouth or through empathising with the memories carried by the items that were in my possession."

"...That second one sounds odd but also useless for our current situation." Nobunaga pointed out with a small frown. "Fortunately the summoning has instilled me with the knowledge to read all manner of languages, therefore we have little to be concerned about."

She glanced at his bottomless box "Do you have any rope in there?"

"I have several whips."

Nobunaga looked as though she wanted to question him for a brief moment, then dismissed it with a shake of her head. "Strange, but fortunate. Would they be long enough to tie around our waists?"

"I believe so." Ash nodded his head up and down "For what purpose?"

"So that we do not get separated in the cold, fool." The Archer pointed to the curtains "We can barely see our feet, let alone anything in front of us. You would do well to set your sword on fire and wave it around so we can at least banish some of the cold, with you bringing up the front as a vanguard, I can take up the rear and provide support. So that we don't get lost, we have that whip tied around our waists."

"...I see." Ash nodded his head up and down, moving his hand to his Bottomless Box once more and extracting Galvatyne, the tip of the sword thudded against the floorboards by his feet, burying itself in the wood with very little effort as he rested his hand on the pommel of the weapon. "I should be able to perform such a feat, yes."

With a faint grunt, he shoved the weapon further down so that it would stand under its own weight. Reaching into the Bottomless Box once more, the Saber then extracted what appeared to be a bound together lock of air cut from someone's braided ponytail.

"...That isn't a whip."

"Of course it is." Ash stated matter of factly, "I can lash out with it and the hair extends, soon setting itself ablaze and burning whatever I have struck with it." he looked at the woman "Therefore, it is a whip. It also extends quite far. Besides, its natural warmth will aid in combating the cold outside…" he paused, frowning as he looked the woman up and down "Though I would say you require a greater degree of cloth than what you currently wear."

Nobunaga glanced down at her uniform, then grimaced as she nodded her head up and down in begrudging acceptance. "Yeah…most likely."

His left hand went back, soon coming out with a tattered black cloak, the inner lining sewn from what looked like fur from a wolf or fear, the outer lining darkened grey with the upside down shape of a tree embezzled on the back in faded white stitching. Ash held it out to the shorter figure, shifting his hand up and down as if to show off the piece of cloth.

Nobunaga stared at it for a moment, then shrugged her shoulders. "Not my style, but it can't be helped." She took the cloak from the Saber, swinging it around and draping it over the top of her body. Because it had been made for someone much larger than her and for armour with considerable girth rather than a loose uniform, the cloak was more like a robe. Stretching past the knees of the Archer and to the midst of her gold armoured shins.

Despite that, Nobunaga put on a thoughtful expression as she glanced down at her new cloak, shifting ever so slightly and pulling it tighter so that it was almost embracing her entire body, though there was still a considerable gap in the front where her arms and body were facing.

"Not bad, not bad at all." She said after a moment of thought, looking up at the Saber "Rather comfy, actually."

"The Millwood knights adorned their armour with these cloaks." Ash explained, throwing his left hand over his shoulder to gesture to the curtain behind them "They retreated to the Painted World, as such the cloth is designed for environments such as these. It will serve you better than it would I, for the time being."

"Such a useful retainer." Nobunaga praised, a smile on her face that was far too amused. Then her eyes drifted downwards to the whip made of hair in his right arm, the smile faded slightly into a look of disapproval. "Have you nothing else?"

"This is the most suited option, the other whips I have are mundane in nature, or barbed to inflict laceration wounds on my foes." There was a pause before he spoke again "I assume you do not want that one-"

"No." The answer was quick and curt, soon followed by a resigned sigh as the Archer waved her hand "Fine, fine. It can't be helped…" she muttered under her breath as she approached the Saber, extending her right hand towards the braided ponytail. "Let us just get this over with and then depart."


The helm stared down from above, the wind rushed past their body with a howl.

The cold did not so much as shift their aim, without making so much as a sound the armoured figure ripped the greatsword from the corpse. The birdlike creature sputtered for a moment before going limp, the body already fading away into dust before being carried off in the gale.

Armour groaned as the body turned, the bulked steel frame of the knight barely stood out amidst the ruins. The large shadow of their mount - however - did. The rough growl of the large animal behind the knight attracted their attention for a brief moment. The animal shivered slightly, displacing the snow and ice that was accumulating on their body and freeing themselves once more.

Stone cracked as the knight drove their sword down into the roof tiles without concern for anyone who resided in the building. Their body turned with eerie silence, a simple feat given that their armoured boots touched not the ground, but instead hovered in the air. A bulky hand reached for the head of the animal, running thick fingers over the sharpened beak and clearing away traces of snow that the beast could not get to.

A pleased warble came from the animal as the knight retracted their arm, turning themselves once more and reaching out to take hold of their greatsword. Their fingers paused just shy of touching the hilt. Their head shifted as they turned their head downwards, staring from the rooftops down to streetlevel.

Whatever expression they were making was lost behind the full covering helmet of the knight, all that could be seen was the darkened visor where the eyes would have peered out. The knight stared at something towards the ground, a flash of bright orange soon steadied itself as if like a torch.

It was no torch, it clung to a certain shape, akin to a sword, and moved through the snow at a steady pace. The silent knight remained fixed upon the enrapturing sight of the burning sword moving through the snow. Their head turned to follow them, a faint crimson light built up behind the visor, slowly but surely intensifying in brightness the longer they gazed down at the figure.

The actions of the knight attracted the attention of the creature behind them, a growl of puzzlement was followed by heavy cracking steps. Sharp talons punctured through clay and sent tiles clattering to the ground below as they slid from the roof, the sound being lost in the cacophony of the storm. The shadow of the bird rose up, the eagle warbled and shook its body. Ruffling its dirt brown feathers as its gaze shifted between the knight and the burning sword at the street.

The knight answered without words, the hand snapped out and the armoured fingers wrapped around the hilt of the greatsword with such force that they ripped it from its position immediately. Twisting the weapon in their grip and sweeping it to the side, slicing a line through the angled roof tiles and cutting them apart with the move, the sword pointed down at an angle.

Releasing an understanding grunt, the giant eagle - around the size of an elephant when stood up straight - spread its wings wide and narrowed its eyes on the light. With a single powerful beat, they launched themselves into the sky. The knight remained unmoving as the wind from the takeoff blasted against his back, his visor not once leaving the sight of the sword.

Nor of its owner, the shape of the wielder becoming clearer and clearer the longer he stared.

The eagle twisted their body, rather than diving towards the sword it turned itself around as it flanked around the side of the knight, rapidly beating its wings as they fought against the storm. Their sharpened feet rose up, extending themselves towards the direction of the knight as they came upon his back. The armoured man made not a single attempt to move, even knowing the approaching animal.

There was no reason to fear them, afterall.

The talons of the eagle snapped down the second they were upon the hovering man, claws curled around and tightly clamped around his shoulders, grinding against steel as they secured their grip with enough care not to try and puncture the metal casing. The eagle - without missing a beat - pulled the knight into the air and carried him into the winds, the pair of them following after the burning sword.


"Gawain was fucking mental." Mordred bluntly commented as she finished wrapping around the torn up remains of a well ironed shirt around the handle of the third dagger.

Mash sent a sympathetic look towards Jekyll as the man watched his clothes get torn to ribbons for the sake of a makeshift grip. The man noticed her look and offered her a wave of the hand as if to tell her he didn't mind it too much. Mash might have not been a big expert on reading people, but she could tell he was still affected by it in some capacity.

Meanwhile, in lieu of precious little else to be done, Mordred had seen fit to start enlightening people on the tales of the round table.

"You ever seen someone throw a sun?" Mordred looked up, her eyes dancing around the room and looking at the faces of everyone present. They all shook their heads at her, it was clearly something she was expecting as she gave a grunt and nodded up and down. "Yeah, that crazy bastard did that every time he used that sword."

The knight made a throwing motion upwards "Would literally toss the damn thing into the air and then 'boom' suddenly there is a second sun in the sky." she looked back down, shrugging "Though that's what Galatine was all about. One time he caught it and it just burnt his hand black. Absolutely stank when we were out of the battle."

Vordt made a small noise of puzzlement "I'm sorry…he threw the sword and then it turned into the sun?"

"Yeah." Mordred pointed at him then made a face "That's what Merlin said about it anyway. I never much talked to that flowery asshole though…guy was a real menace." she shuddered ever so slightly, face awash in disgust before she looked at Mash. "Anyway, that was Gawain. Freakin' Gorilla, I tell you. What sort of idiot catches a sword that has just been set on fire and is now the temperature of the sun?"

Mash blinked once "Erm…I don't know?" she paused for a moment, then considered something "Wait…that sounds like something that Ash-san would do!" she realised with a snap of her fingers, turning the heads of the room as one onto her.

"...Must be the same brand of idiot or something." Mordred grumbled as she returned her focus to the dagger sitting on her lap, giving the fabric one last tug before nodding her head up and down. Holding the 'weapon' up to get a look at it. "Well…It'll work like a short sword, I guess."

"Can you even fight with something that small?" Vordt asked with a tilt of the head, Mordred sent him a look.

"Not everyone runs around with a mace, dumbass. Besides, I didn't always fight with Clarent in the first place." She grunted as she lowered the dagger to the side of her chair, dropping it atop the others with a gentle clatter of steel. "I used a longsword."

That was actually something Mash got a little curious about, all the other swords of the Round Table were more often than not mentioned by name. Galatine, Arondight, Curtana, Excalibur. To her knowledge, Mordred was always noted to have wielded Clarent after it was stolen from the vaults.

However, there was precious little detail on what sword Mordred had wielded before that time.

"Uhm, Sir Mordred?" Mash called out, leaning forwards and bringing the attention of the Saber onto her, the blonde woman - who barely looked older than Mash - raised a singular eyebrow while her face remained blank. "What was the name of the sword you wielded before Clarent?"

"What?" Mordred made a face at her "It was just some sword. More often than not the damn things broke in my hands." she groaned "Then you get a damn lecture from one of the other Knights about taking better care of my equipment."

Vordt gave her a bemused face "Is that not a given though? Breaking your sword in combat seems as though it would be rather unfortunate."

"I was wielding a normal sword." Mordred groaned "All those other guys didn't have to worry about it because they all got these magic weapons that were either unbreakable or so durable that they might as well have been. Heck, even Bedivere's spear was pretty sturdy." she pointed to the floor "So yeah, I might have smashed up a couple of swords but that's just because I got run of the mill stuff!"

Jekyll cleared his throat slightly, then glanced down to the daggers by the side of Mordred's chair, as he adjusted his seating. "Just out of curiosity. How many swords did you end up breaking?"

"Huh? I didn't keep count of that. Why the heck would I? They broke so I just tossed them away and grabbed one off the guys I was killing." She grunted dismissively, then cracked a smirk as she shrugged her shoulders "Not like they were gonna need it anymore." she paused after a moment, the smirk tapering off "...Doesn't mean I'm fine with getting robbed."

There was a certain degree of irony that Mash felt as though she shouldn't comment upon.

Though one thing did spring to mind "How did you lose it, Sir Mordred?" Mash asked, earning the Saber's ire in the form of an annoyed glare aimed her way. Despite the heat, it was less directed at the Shielder and more directed at the Saber themselves. "J-just in case they try a similar thing with one of us?"

Mordred stared at her for a moment before letting out an irritable breath, her arms folded over her chest with high degree of tension, almost as though she was trying to crush them as Mash heard metal groan underneath the fingers of the knight. Mordred's face shifted into an ugly scowl as her eyes seemingly looked past the Shielder and at nothing in particular.

"...Some shitty mage." Mordred grumbled "Couldn't get past my Magic Resistance with these stupid summons of his. Looked like scarecrows or whatever, then there's this weird flash and next thing I know, Clarent gets yanked from my damn hands and vanishes into the storm."

An annoyed sigh passed through the lips of the Servant as she closed her eyes. "Figures. He looked like a slimy bastard and there was no way someone would be stupid enough to fight me fair and square." the eyes snapped open as she pointed around the room. "They could obviously tell I was the best one here and saught to handicap me."

Vordt raised an eyebrow at her silently "...Am I not the one who can walk unimpeded through the snow? Would it not have been better to cripple my combat abilities?"

"Cripple you?" Mordred scoffed at him "You can just swing those elephant arms of yours and knock someone down. You're like a damn rhino." she cackled at her own joke as if it was the funniest thing she had heard all day.

Having seen one of Vordt's animalistic charges for herself, Mash was far less inclined to laugh at it.

Though before she got a word in, the tone of the room shifted from being more approachable to suddenly being cold. Mash tensed herself, her eyes going wide and snapping towards the direction of the door where she felt a pair of eyes burning against the side of her head.

Sure enough, she saw Medea floating in the doorway, it was barely even noticeable by the slight angling of her feet meaning she had either entered the room on her tiptoes or she was just hovering as low as she possibly could.

Mash sharply rose up from her seat, her expression shifting through surprise, worry and then finally hope as she looked to the Caster. Medea had been in there for well over an hour at this point and working to herself on something that had required her complete focus. Mash knew more than enough to understand that - as a Caster and a Mage - Medea was a first class one.

"Me-Caster-san?" Mash voiced out with no small degree of desperation in her voice "Have you found anything?"

Medea looked to the Shielder for a moment, then her eyes danced across the room before they fell upon Vordt. Though her face was mostly hidden behind her hood, there was still a palpable sense of curiosity aimed in the general direction of the knight. Not curiosity in the sense of general intrigue but more in casual dismissal.

'Did I miss this before?' If it was to be put into words.

"Ah, this is Vordt-san." Mash introduced, pointing to the Servant by way of an explanation. "He is the Rider that Doctor Jekyll mentioned earlier."

"I see." Medea voiced back after a moment, devoid of any real emotion. " The hood returned to Mash "As far as locating our allies, progress has been much slower than I had anticipated, though I have deduced why making contact with Chaldea is - at present - impossible."

The news about being unable to locate Ritsuka brought a grim frown to the face of the girl, whatever hope she had was quickly dashed away. However, it did return somewhat when the Caster mentioned Chaldea. That had been one of the first things she had attempted once they were brought inside, hoping that they could locate Ritsuka from the command centre.

For whatever reason, she could not establish communication with them.

"This entire city is covered in a specialised bounded field." Medea explained to the group as one, though she was personally doubtful that anyone would understand what she was saying in the first place. "Coupled with the spell outside, it is the application of a subtle hypnosis upon the minds of the humans who live here."

Jekyll's brows furrowed as he leaned forwards. "You suggest that something in the storm is affecting the minds of the people of London?"

"I suggest nothing." Medea rebuked with full confidence "I am saying that is exactly what is occurring. As far as a spell goes it is subtle but bafflingly simple. Something that even the lowest degree of magic resistance would counteract with complete ease. Even bereft of it, considering it is an attack upon the mental psyche itself, it can be combated with enough force of will from the victim."

Mordred just stared at her for a moment "...So it's pathetic, is what you're saying?"

"Crude as you might put it, there can be no more apt a description." Medea confirmed without moving. "Though it calls into question the power that the caster has available to them that this can cover the entire city of London. As for how we cannot contact Chaldea, the answer is simple."

Mash leaned forwards, though she couldn't quite be prepared for the words that soon followed.

"We are in a reality marble."

"...Eh?"


Trudging through the snow brought memories of his childhood.

Memories he quickly squashed into nothing like the ghosts that they were, it would not serve him well to be reminded of that sickening place for the time being. However, he could not help it.

No, rather the world itself seemed to all but shove the evidence of their location in his face.

The spell was different, the land was different as it had been put atop this city of London but everything else was identical.

The storm…the cold, the winds…all of it.

A chill that could not be replicated, a biting wind that could never be copied and that deep sense of emptiness in his soul that could not occur anywhere else.

This place was Ariandel.

Yet it could not be Ariandel.

A mystery he would never wish answered yet was vital to their success here.

Holding his burning greatsword aloft, Sulyvahn led the advance through the knee deep snow without ever once taking pause. He was used to moving in such conditions therefore he would not be hampered by what would otherwise have stopped others from moving. Despite that, he could make out the grunts and groans of effort from the Saint behind him as she was clearly having a much more challenging time.

Withholding a sigh of annoyance, Sulyvahn paused in his walking and aimed a glance over his shoulder to see just how poor her attempts were. There was perhaps a two metre difference between them, that was all. In this climate - however - it might as well have been miles, all he could see of her was a vague outline and that was likely because of the storm curving around her body as if revolted by her very presence.

Of course it would do that.

This woman - vile as he might have found her - still had something she believed in.

This cursed land would never dare think to try and claim her for itself, if anything it would want her gone as soon as possible. Lest she spread the illness of 'hope' to these rotting streets.

Sulyvahn waited, flaming sword still held in his right hand and pointed to the sky like a beacon. The profaned fire lashed out at the snow, stopping it from doing anything so much as close to getting near him. The cursed flames that would never fade proved more than a match for the icy breath of this storm.

Jeanne staggered forwards, pulling her legs from the snow and stumbling to a halt just behind the taller Caster. She paused when she noticed that he was actually waiting for her, raising a single eyebrow as if surprised by his course of action.

"Having to explain you wandering the snow to the summoner will only end in me being dragged out to find you once more." Sulyvahn explained over the wind, raising his voice into a shout just so she could heed his words. "The less time I spend outside in these foul winds, the better. Do not prove too great a burden."

In spite of that, as he aimed his head forwards once more he lowered the greatsword and then reversed it in his grip. Plunging the burning sword down, it hissed as he buried it into the snow, the steam rising up was almost pleasant. More so when he forced more magical energy into the blade and intensified the flames clinging to the steel weapon.

He could feel the confusion of the woman behind him, not that he was concerned in the least.

With a grunt, the flames of the sword spread wide enough to cover the width of his own body. With the sword still buried in the snow, Sulyvahn started to walk forwards, each step accompanied by a hiss as he carved out a path through the snow by melting everything in front of him. Whether or not the Saint took his newly created path didn't matter much to him, so long as he didn't prove a burden he cared not.

A tingle shot through his body, a sense of something watching him. A sense he could never forget, when walking the painted world you were always in the eyes of someone. Either one of the despairing or one of its guardians. As one of the few who would actively wander the wastes with no small amount of purpose, Sulyvahn was used to receiving stares from different groups altogether.

He stopped walking, his left hand swept to the side in an arc while the silver longsword manifested in his hand and glowed and ethereal purple light. Jeanne's footsteps ground to a halt behind him, he could feel the woman tense and aim a questioning gaze towards his back. Not that he even registered it, instead moving to look up.

Glancing to the skies, his brows creaked as they fell ever so slightly. His expression scrunching up as he looked between the two sides of the street.

"Caster?" Jeanne called out behind him, the puzzlement still in her voice though it was now thick with a tension to it. Clearly sensing that he had stopped for a very specific reason, not to mention the fact that he had drawn his second sword and started channelling magical energy into the blade. "What is it?"

"We're being watched…" Sulyvahn responded to her, his form tensing up as he moved his head from side to side. "Though quite by who…I am not sure. Either way, there will be none who wander these streets with much in the way of mercy for outsiders such as ourselves."

"You sound confident."

"Naturally." Sulyvahn scoffed though he didn't respond beyond that, his head still moving from side to side as he examined their surroundings. "We are not of this cold and do not accept it in our hearts. Therefore we are enemies of this place, those who do not join with the rot…are not welcome in the world."

Jeanne tensed, now catching onto his meaning. "If this is the world you claim it to be…then there are guardians that maintain the way it is?" Her grip on her flagpole tightened, raising it from the ground and clasping it in both hands. "And they are no doubt closing in on us as we speak?"

"More than likely." Sulyvahn remarked in a hollow tone of voice "Now I suggest we-" he grunted, staggering to the side as three blurs shot from the storm and struck him. The Caster snapped his head down, staring at the three sword like knives stuck in his ribs before his head snapped back up towards the direction they had come from.

"Wha-?!" Jeanne blurted out in alarm, then heard a trudge of snow and twisted around. Bringing up the flagpole as three long blades collided with her guard, frowning as she saw a shadow rise well above her head. The form of the body itself was thin, skeletal almost with an almost plate-like scaling to them. The shoulders rose above the collarbone, a spindly neck rose up to attach to a beak-like face. A growl came from her assailant as two pitch black eyes glared at her.

The claws at the end of each hand - mounted blades on the knuckles - grinded against the metal pole in her hands. Another set of claws came in from the side, intent on disembowelling her. The woman snapped back, shoving the arm back the way it had come and smacking the bird humanoid in the face, it staggered backwards before it could get another hit in.

Swinging the staff down, she heard a crunch of metal and bone as she slammed the weapon into the right arm of her attacker, the limb bending with the strike and a squawk of pain coming from the creature. The back of the standard snapped back around as she spun it in a reverse direction, slamming it into the chin and breaking bone once more. The head snapped back at an ugly angle as the body fell into the snow with a thud.

The relief didn't last long as another blur came charging towards her from the snow, the Saint narrowed her eyes as a virtual copy of her last attacker was upon her like a rabid beast, screeching a warcry as it swung at her.

A clang of steel came from the side, soon followed by a flash of light sweeping in and striking the charging creature in the chest and sending it flying off back into the storm with a hiss of pain.

Jeanne glanced to the side briefly, just in time to see Sulyvahn parry away the claws of another of the bird creatures, the burning greatsword was brought down and cleaved through the upper and lower body with sickening ease. The Caster snarled as he turned around, the sword danced through the air and struck out several more knives flying towards him.

The Saint would have rushed to him if it wasn't for the fact that three more beasts came charging from the snow straight towards her, claws bared and beaked maws open wide in a high pitched screech.