A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 14

Kratos found himself momentarily lost for words. A status that was not shared by all upon the battlefield.

"Countess….." hissed Vlad, through clenched teeth, as he slowly backed away from Kratos, his spear held in a guard position. "We should withdraw. The odds no longer favor us - and they were balanced on the edge of a knife before this surprising resurrection."

"To Hell with you and to HELL with your withdrawals, Vlad!" The woman seemed livid beyond even what she had been when Mash had struck her. "SHE DIES!"

Vlad shook his head sadly. "One cannot help those who will not help themselves. I leave you to your fate, Countess. I would tell you to die well - but I fear that all that awaits you is an ugly end." His form trembled, then broke apart into mists, which was quickly picked up by the wind and carried off.

The Dark Jeanne seemed to find this hilarious. "Oh the motherfucking IRONY!" She cackled. "The traitor finds herself abandoned by her supposed allies?" She stepped forward, and viciously kicked the Servant in her stomach, sending her tumbling across the battlefield. "Hurts, doesn't it, bitch?"

Then, lightning quick, the spear in her hands flew out, pointing directly between Mash's eyes. "Don't you move an inch, Shield Girl. The leech is MINE! I've had dibs on her since she helped that bastard take my arm, among the litany of sins she has to answer for. Do what you want with the other two, but get between me and my revenge and I'll do you like I'll do her. Extra-EXTRA crispy."

Kratos growled, and Dark Jeanne spared him a glance. "Oh roar roar, I get it, I won't hurt the armored eggplant. Just keep your little friends from getting in my way for a minute, and we can all sit down after this and braid each other's hair or whatever…those of us who have hair, at least. And there's still plenty of fighting here to go around. You can help 'me' make up for her fucking EMBARRASSING performance against that Saber, or go help the other one put the Phantom away, if you really didn't get your fill from Drac."

She then stalked across the field, moving straight towards where the Countess was lying.

"Kratos?" He could feel the unspoken question in Mash's voice, with their opponents having either quit the battlefield, or having been outright taken from them, both of them were at bit at loose ends.

"Assist Rider in her fight. I will see to the Saber."

"Yes sir!"

By this time, the other Jeanne had made her way to where the Servant who commanded the majority of her ire had landed. "Come on, Carmilla. Stand up. You can at least die on your feet, and look me in the eye when I turn you into ash."

Weakly, the Servant staggered to her feet. Her mask had been lost in the tumble, and her face was twisted into a rictus of pure hate. "How? HOW are you still alive? He ripped a hole in you, tore everything that made you what you are out of you. You should have died a peasant's death within minutes!"

"Life's just full of mysteries, isn't it? This is just one you're going to have to wonder about as you go screaming back to the Throne. Give me just a second, and then we'll get to your public execution." Contemptuously, Dark Jeanne drove her spear into the ground, summoning a flag to take its place. "This was a hell of a lot easier with two hands. Just one more thing I have to take out of your hide." She shook the flag out, unfurling it, then drove it into the ground, where the cloth weakly fluttered in the ragged wind. Satisfied with this, Dark Jeanne snatched up her spear. "Alright, now that I've got my Banner of Vengeance raised, let's dance, bitch."

Everyone, even the completely mad, could only stare. The flag was….decorated was a strong word….with a picture that could only be hand-drawn. Crudely. A figure that could loosely be identified as Dark Jeanne stood atop a pile of bodies, her finger pointed skyward in victory. Few of the figures under her feet were identifiable, though Kratos thought the one under her right foot was the Servant she was preparing to fight. Maybe. It possibly could have been Vlad, as the only truly distinct features he could make out were a pair of highly exaggerated fangs.

There was a moment of silence across the battlefield, then Carmilla gave a bone-deep sigh. "By the gods old and new….you're even more disgraceful than you ever were as our leader."

Dark Jeanne rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. This 'disgrace' is about to kill you, Countess of Blood. So you going to make the first move, or do I have to?"

As the two parties continued to exchange barbs, Kratos drew up beside their Jeanne. "Stand down and tend your injuries. I will handle this."

For a moment, Jeanne almost looked like she would protest, but then, with a weary sigh, she nodded. "I am sorry. I truly did not think I had lost so much of my power." Moving gingerly, she withdrew to a safe distance behind Kratos.

The Saber let her go, their eyes having never left Kratos. "This does not need to end in your death, Saber," said Kratos. "Stand down."

Saber smiled, a sad, wan smile. "I will tell you the same thing I told her, Monsieur god. For a Knight to outlive their charge is like wounds on a swordsman's back, the height of shame. No, if my Mistress is to die here, then I shall die with her." Their rapier was raised in a salute, one that turned into a quicksilver thrust.

A thrust that was foiled by the sudden appearance of Kratos' shield, the metal unfolding in the split second before the point would have met his flesh. With a heave, his shield pushed up, smacking the weapon aside - though not without more resistance than he had expected, the Saber being stronger than their appearance let on. Still, they were open, and Kratos' axe cut through the air, forcing the the Saber to give ground, as they hurriedly worked to interpose their blade between themselves and the axe seeking their flesh.

The first parry nearly brought them to their knees, as they proved Kratos' inferior in both strength and leverage, Kratos having more than a foot of height on the Saber. Their thin blade, too, was ill-suited to parrying such a heavy weapon as the Leviathan Axe. As the fight continued, they were forced to try to divert the axe, rather than stopping it altogether, a challenge with such a light weapon. It was only due to their prodigious skill that they managed for as long as they did.

Daringly stepping into Kratos' zone, the Saber used the knuckle guard of their rapier to punch the Leviathan Axe aside, just managing to divert it by using every ounce of their strength. Knowing that, for a moment, the god would be off balance, they raised their rapier, preparing a lunging thrust that would put every ounce of their speed and strength into the attack - a gamble, to be sure, but a necessary one, as they were outmatched as they had rarely been in life.

It was not to be. Even as they were drawing their blade up, Kratos had stepped forward, left foot planted, as he punched out, leading with his shield. The sheer brute force of it blasted through Saber's hasty attempt at a parry, and rammed into their chest and collarbone with the speed of a runaway truck.

In the moment before they were blasted into the air, the Saber felt, rather than heard, several things in their body shatter.

They crashed to the earth a moment later. They tried to rise, but their body just wouldn't cooperate. With a sad little sigh, they ceased their struggle, as a looming form stood over them.

No point being petty in defeat. "Bested then. My regards, nameless god, on your victory."

There was a small grunt from above them, and then a second set of footfalls. "Your loyalty does you credit, Chevalier d'Eon - you gave me enough hints that I couldn't help but figure it out. Would that you could have found a better master to serve."

Ah, the Maid of Orleans. "We Servants don't get to choose who we serve - I was summoned to be the thrall of a Dragon Witch, after all. And of the Masters I had once the Dragon Witch had been deposed…well, you shall see." They closed their eyes. "I am ready to see the Throne again. I hope you will be successful in saving France."

There was the whistling of metal as it cut through the air, then an impact, then the long, long, swirling tunnel that led to the Throne.

Mash drew up beside Medusa, the tall woman idly twirling her twin stakes in her hands. The Phantom - as he had been named by the other Jeanne, was on shaky legs - bleeding from his hands, from where his shattered mask had dug into his face, and clearly favoring the leg that Medusa had kicked out from underneath him. He was on his last legs, but still dangerous, his madness and being cornered making for a dangerous combination.

Medusa didn't spare Mash a glance, unwilling to take her eyes from the Phantom for even a moment. "Circle around, flank him. No need for complicated tactics against someone as crazy as him - just be careful. He'd be happy to take a mortal shot if it means he'll get to take one of us with him."

Mash nodded, and slowly, carefully, began to strafe around the Servant, her shield raised, her muscles tense, ready to react at the slightest move from the madman.

Insane the Phantom may have been, but even he wouldn't stand still and allow himself to be flanked. With a keening cry that sent chills down Mash's spine, he charged her, claws raised. For the second fight in a row, a Servant's unnaturally elongated talons squealed as they scraped on her shield, but, as before, her shield repelled the attack without the blades even marring its surface.

He rained down blows on Mash's shield, a high, giggling laugh escaping his ruined face as he worked himself deeper and deeper into a frenzy. But he was slow - slower than Carmilla with his injuries hampering him, and even if he had been fully hale he would have been less skilled than his 'Christine'. The Phantom was a killer, not a warrior.

Mash Kyrielight had sparred several times with Kratos, and a few times with Cu Chulainn - both of them holding back heavily, yes, but the difference between them and the likes of Carmilla and the Phantom was night and day.

She turned her shield so that the Phantom's attack was diverted down, then planted her feet, and swung her shield in short arc, forcing him to leap away or be broken in two. He landed, wincing as his injured leg took his weight badly, then howled as he was yanked into the air by that selfsafe bad leg.

A shimmer in the air, and a chain materialized, looped around his leg, and strung through the nearby treeline, the rotted branches somehow managing to hold his weight. As he twisted, attempting to get his claws on the chain binding his ankle, two more lengths of chain flew through the air, wrapping tight around his arms, and pulling them out until he was restrained, almost spread-eagled, held off the ground.

"I believe the expression is 'fish in a barrel'? Good work, Mash." Medusa held a tangle of chains in one of her fists, her arm bulging with muscles, veins standing out. "You were the perfect harmless looking bait for him - doesn't hurt that you roughed up his 'Christine' and he couldn't let that pass. It gave me just enough time to lay out my traps." She favored Mash with a glance that held a touch of apology. "Sorry for using you like that, but there really wasn't time to go over it - and you can never be sure how good the hearing of a Servant associated with music is."

Mash shook her head. "It's fine. After that woman, he really wasn't all that scary. Especially after how much you'd taken out of him."

The man in question was still fighting, still thrashing about, desperately trying to free himself from the chains that held him. "Christine, Christine…..I must save my Christine…."

Medusa looked up at the man, a trace of sadness on her face. "Kratos offered the Saber a chance to stand down, but there'd be little point in it with you, you're just too far gone, aren't you, you poor man. The only thing you can do to a monster when it's lost all reason…."

There was a whistling, then a sucking impact, as one of Medusa's stakes flew from her hand, into the Phantom's heart. He was dead almost instantly.

"...is put them down. Before they hurt anyone else. Even if it's still too late for all those the monster hurt before she was stopped." She let the chains slip from her fingers, and turned away from the Phantom's disintegrating body, as it fell, vanishing before it hit the ground.

Dark Jeanne's smile was all teeth. "And then there was one. How's it feel, Carmilla? No allies to gang up on me with, no stupidly overpowered ringleader to protect you - even Drac's bailed on you. Just you and me, one on one." Flames began to flicker around the edge of her spear. "I'd tell you to start praying, but that would ruin my heretic street cred. So let's get this over with."

"Fine, you guttersnipe commoner. I'll die happier knowing that you preceded me - not that a copy like you has anywhere to go afterwards." She made a beckoning gesture with her hand. "Come on, then. Oblivion awaits."

The Dark Jeanne snarled, and charged, spear point lowered and leading. Carmilla sneered, moving her staff to interpose, claws raised for a counter, when the stump of Dark Jeanne's arm twitched, and a wave of fire swept across the ground, forcing Carmilla to move out of its path, or be seared, leaving her out of position. She still managed to get her staff in the way of the spear, but was forced to use both hands to hold the weapon back.

"Turns out just a stump is enough for me to call down fire on you, Countess. So I suppose I TECHNICALLY won't be beating you with one arm tied behind my back." She pushed against Carmilla's guard, and shoved her away, then brought her spear across in a vicious swipe, one that forced Carmila to duck.

Carmilla leapt up from her crouch, claws stabbing at her enemy's eyes, but Dark Jeanne whipped the butt of the spear up in time to block the attack. For a moment, Carmilla seized the spear, possibly thinking of trying to wrest it from her hands, but fire erupted from the dark wood, charring her flesh and forcing her to release it.

"Stupid!" Mocked Dark Jeanne. "Did you think the tip was all you had to be worried about? Every INCH of me is fire, and hate!" She kicked Carmilla in her stomach, then, while she was bent over, gasping for breath, seized the Countess by her hair, and drove a knee directly into her face. "Like those noodle arms of yours could hope to overpower me, in any event." Another knee, and the sound of breaking cartilage. "You'd better fight back, or you won't have any fangs to feed…...DAMMIT THAT HURTS!"

Hissing, Carmilla had driven her claws straight through Dark Jeanne's foot, piercing straight through the boot, all the way into the ground. Spitefully, she twisted her wrist, breaking the talons off from her fingers, and leaving them embedded into Dark Jeanne's foot. "I won't even TASTE your filthy blood! I'll kill you so horribly that your real self over there will feel it, you gutter trash!"

Snarling, blood leaking from her shattered nose, Carmilla slashed at Dark Jeanne's neck with her burned hand, seeking to open her throat. In trouble for the first time in the fight, Dark Jeanne ducked her head, moving just enough to put her tiara in line to block the attack, unable to move enough to fully get out of the way, with her foot pinned as it was.

The blood drained from Carmilla's face as her talons shattered upon contacting the metal, then she gave a scream as, for the second time, she was run through the middle by a spear. "Fire can make things brittle, bitch, particularly fire as hot as mine. You should have stabbed me through the foot with your bad hand, then maybe you'd have lived up to your boasts about sending me into the void." Wincing, Dark Jeanne planted her feet, and began to hoist Carmilla in the air. Sweat leaked down her brow as she somehow, one-handed, held Carmilla up high, impaled on her spear. "BURN!"

In an instant, Carmilla was engulfed in flames. Seconds later, she was ash on the wind.

Grimacing, Dark Jeanne tore her foot free from the ground, twisting her foot about, inspecting the damage. "Yeah, not looking forward to walking on that." She looked up to see four pairs of narrowed eyes watching her every move, weapons still held in their hands.

"What? I got something on my face?"

There had been some discussion - quite a lot of discussion about the path they were taking.

Medusa had been of the opinion that they shouldn't trust this new Jeanne as far as they could throw her. She hadn't quite advocated for killing her on the spot, but she was watching the Servant like a hawk, and she hadn't yet dismissed her stakes.

Jeanne, of course, wanted to - or needed to - talk to this Jeanne that, for all that she shared her face, wasn't her at all. She'd been upfront about her intentions towards the Dragon Witch from the earliest moments they had met her - just as she had been adamant about being willing to stop the Dragon Witch, if words couldn't reach her.

Mash had sided with Jeanne. The girl, Kratos believed, did not have the word 'unforgivable' in her vocabulary.

(He hoped she would be able to hold on to that innocence.)

Romani and Da Vinci had been somewhere in the middle of the two extremes. Both of them were hungry for any intelligence they could gather on the situation, and the Dragon Witch herself would be an ample source of such. But she also, as Da Vinci had said, 'had a list of atrocities as long as my staff', and thus should be treated, very, VERY carefully.

Cu had been less careful in his words. He had simply said that he could 'smell the crazy on her', and he'd had bad experiences with crazy like that - particularly when it was crazy women.

(As much as Cu complained about this 'Medb', Kratos was hoping they never crossed paths with her. At times, the Irish Servant sounded like he'd rather be back in that fire-choked city than to see that woman again.)

In the end, it was the words from one of the few books (translated to Greek for Kratos, in that he was still reading English at what Mash called a 'first-grade level', whatever that meant) he had read in his short time at Chaldea, that was foremost at his mind, as they followed this Jeanne to her refuge.

It was an ancient treatise of war, and the ways of prosecuting it, supposedly from one of the acclaimed masters of this Earth. And within was a phrase - 'The Enemy of My Enemy is My Friend'.

Possibly far too simple for the situation they found themselves in. But applicable all the same.

"Fuck me, this hurts."

So it was they were following this Jeanne to her refuge, because, as she had put it: "We could stay right here and have our little heart-to-heart, but there's no promise Vlad hasn't tattled on us, and that means the rest of my traitorous bunch of Servants might be on their way right now. So I'm getting the hells out of here. You can follow, or you can try to stop me, which means you're going to have to kill me. And that means you're stuck here longer, and might get beat up even more, just in time for your welcoming party to arrive, fresh as a daisy and with murder in their eyes. Your choice."

And with that declaration, she had started limping away, almost daring them to object.

After the aforementioned discussion, they had chosen to follow - keeping a distance between themselves and their would-be ally, and never letting their weapons leave their hands.

They had followed a stream of complaints and curses - most centering around the lineage of one Carmilla and the breadth and length of her intimate activities - to a cunningly hidden cave.

"Yeah, I looked for one hidden behind a waterfall, but I guess that was a bit too cliche. It's large enough, uninhabited, and best of all, it keeps things in the sky from seeing me." She ran her eyes over the group. "Hell, if it'll make you feel better, you can check the place over, make sure I haven't rigged it to explode, or that I don't have a gang of werewolves or some shit waiting to jump you inside." She shrugged. "Go on, knock yourselves out."

Kratos glowered at Dark Jeanne for a moment, who seemed unconcerned with being the focus of his ire. "Rider."

Medusa nodded. "I'll take a look in Spirit Form - if she has planned any treachery, it will be less likely to affect me that way." She vanished in a shower of light. 'I'll be quick about it, but keep an eye on her'.

'I share your misgivings, but be thorough with your inspection. She is little threat in the state she is in. Do not overlook a trap in haste.'

They settled in for what his son would have probably termed an 'awkward silence', as Medusa inspected the cave interior. Jeanne, for her part, kept stealing glances at her opposite - clearly only just holding herself back from barraging this other Jeanne with questions. Mash was mimicking Kratos in keeping her eyes firmly on the other Jeanne, both scrutinizing her every move - which was met by her meeting both their gazes, and yawning exaggeratedly.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, but was likely only a handful of minutes, he felt Medusa's voice in his head. 'It seems safe. There's little more than a firepit, some crude bedding, a handful of supplies, and some scavenged chairs in here. If she has any surprises for us, she's hidden them well.'

Kratos grunted. "It seems you spoke truly."

Dark Jeanne rolled her eyes. "I could have told you that, but you wouldn't have listened. So, we all feeling safe enough to get into cover?"

Kratos gestured with his axe, indicating that she should go first - which she did, not without a muttered "Paranoid bastard."

The cave interior wasn't spacious, but neither was it cramped. Kratos could stand without his head brushing the ceiling, and there was room enough so that they were not all jostling one another. As she passed by the firepit, Dark Jeanne set it ablaze with an offhand gesture, lighting up the room, and banshing a bit of the chill.

After a moment, when nothing jumped out and attempted to kill them, Kratos found his voice. "Speak."

Dark Jeanne gave a put-upon sigh. "Mind if I sit while we play Twenty Questions? I'd rather let my foot rest while it tries to put itself back together." At Kratos' nod, she flopped into a chair. "Feel free to take a load off, too. My hovel is your hovel."

Not a one of them took her up on that. "Geez, tough crowd. Fine. Get started with the interrogation. What do you want to know?"

It was Jeanne who was the first to speak. "I think the first thing we'd all like to know is…..why?" The Saint's expression was some tortured mix of a glare, and a desperation to understand. "Since being summoned, I've heard no end of tales describing the cruelty you were unleashing on France. Towns, villages, burnt, their people slaughtered, with no distinction between age, sex, or creed. Wyverns and Servants let loose to indulge their worst instincts across the countryside. And yet…here you are. Fighting the very Servants you claim to have been commanding."

Her back straightened, and a note of undeniable authority entered her voice. "What happened? And who are you - because I can tell, now that I've spent some time around you - you're not me."

"First - everything you heard I did, I did it. And I ain't apologizing for it, either." Her eyes narrowed. "France fucked me. Raw and bloody. All I did was give them the payback they'd earned." She gave a bitter laugh. "Or, at least, that's what I thought I was doing."

"Three days after That Day, I woke up in Orleans, face to face with Gilles." She gave another bitter laugh when Jeanne startled at that name. "Yeah, don't get your hopes up 'me', this isn't the Gilles who's still alive in this time, it was a Servant Gilles - a Caster. And one that was based on the Gilles who went off the deep end after we died, the one all the Bluebeard stories were from. He was the one who summoned me, got me on the path of punishing France for what it did to me - not that I took much convincing. So we summoned ourselves some Servants, slapped Madness Enhancement on them, and went to town. And it was glorious. Fire and brimstone, rack and ruin, vengeance came knocking for everyone in France, in the form of a Dragon Witch."

Jeanne was pale as a ghost. The other Jeanne, if she noticed, gave no sign of it. "The only bumps in the road were the Rogue Servants France was summoning to try to stop me. One of them was a particular thorn in my side - I managed to summon Fafnir to be my ace in the hole, but by summoning him, that meant I also summoned his nemesis - Siegfried. One can't exist without the other, or some shit. He fought me off a couple of times, so by the time I tracked him down, I was ready to put him down for good. Only I never got the chance."

She glared at Kratos. "This is your fault, god of resting angryface. See, while I was on my way to kill that Dragonslayer, we got a visitor back at Orleans, someone who knows you." She smirked at their reaction. "Does a green suit, a green hat, and brown hair ring any bells?"

"Lev…." Romani practically hissed the name.

"So it's 'Lev', huh?" Dark Jeanne sneered. "Right, making sure I remember that name. Anyways, he showed up at Orleans and put the fear of God into Gilles, which got me to call off my Dragonslayer hunt and go back to take care of my buddy. Once I met this fucker face to face, he fed me this line about how someone was coming to stop me, how they were a fearsome warrior, and wouldn't I like some means of fighting them?"

Da Vinci frowned. "Yeah, that's not ominous or anything."

The other Jeanne chuckled. "Yeah, I really shouldn't have taken him up on that offer - particularly as he failed to mention this 'great warrior' was a damn god. But someone waltzes into my castle and paints the walls with Gilles' pets, and even I'm smart enough to listen. Because powerful as that guy was, I could tell - whatever you did to him got under his skin."

Kratos found he was moderately pleased by that knowledge - it at least tempered his annoyance that he had not managed to put Lev down for good. Even as he remembered the man, he felt his buried rage howl, for the briefest of moments. With an effort of will, he pushed it down.

He would meet Lev again, and then, that man, or whatever he was, would meet the Ghost of Sparta for a second, and, if Kratos had anything to say about it, FINAL time.

Da Vinci's mouth was a narrow line. "He gave you some sort of Catalyst, didn't he?" She stood, and started pacing, her image in the communicator somehow managing to follow her as she moved. "It's the only thing that makes sense. A weapon, or a spell, or any sort of object wouldn't precipitate you being overthrown like this - unless one of them got their hands on it and used it on you, but both Vlad and Carmilla spoke of someone else leading them. And it couldn't have been one of your own Servants in charge - I assume you were VERY careful not to summon anyone stronger than you were, at least until you got your present from Lev."

She glared at the Dragon Witch. "So who was it? Who'd you summon?"

Dark Jeanne shrugged. "No fuckin' clue, lady. I couldn't get a name or class out of him - hell, when I first summoned him, he just stood there like a drooling idiot for what seemed like forever. Didn't respond to anything. Then he gave a shudder and FINALLY seemed to notice me, and the other Servants I had surrounding him, pointing weapons at him. And then, he just laughed, like he'd been told the best joke he'd ever heard."

She sighed. "I really should have realized the sort of mess I'd gotten myself into when that happened, but no, I figured once I slapped Madness Enhancement on him, he'd be a good little dog like the rest." A bitter laugh. "But the thing didn't want to take on him. We'd cast it over, and over again, and it'd slip off him like he was greased or something. Eventually, we gave up, and Gilles said he'd look into it. Our new Servant just smiled the entire time and followed us back to Orleans."

"He then proceeded to drink his way through the castle's stores of booze, somehow cajoled Atalanta into his bed, and picked a fight with both Vlad, that Black Knight I summoned, and fucking FAFNIR, and beat them all while laughing like a damn loon." She grimaced. "Now me, all I saw was him being a difficult pain in my ass - he didn't listen to a damn thing anyone said, didn't go out to terrorize the countryside, and actively kept some of the rest of my pets from doing the same. So I thought I'd teach him who the top dog was."

Medusa's expression, for all that she was trying to hide it, was a smug one. "And I'm guessing that's when you lost your arm."

Dark Jeanne snapped her fingers. "Bingo. Turns out our new addition hadn't just been drinking, fucking, and fighting with my Servants, he'd been ingratiating himself with them. Pointing out how bad a leader I was, and making them all sorts of promises. Promises he could back up, as it so happens." She scowled. "I'd barely raised my arm to start reading him the riot act when he'd crossed the room and tore my arm off. Boom - Command Seals gone. That opened the floodgates for the rest of them to come after me, but they all just sat back and watched."

She gave a sad little smile. "Well, not ALL of them. Gilles went berserk. Called them traitors, started ranting and raving at them, but…Gilles wasn't exactly what you'd call the most powerful of Servants. He only qualifies for Caster because of that nasty little book Prelati gave him. And while my former Servants were keeping their hands off of me, they weren't so reserved with Gilles. They beat the tar out of him - not enough to kill him, though. They apparently wanted him to watch what was coming."

"The bastard who tore my arm off didn't give Gilles the time of day, he just laughed at him, laughed at me. Then he REALLY put the dagger in. Apparently, it wasn't just my Servants he'd been talking to, your Lev had been talking to him too. And he'd apparently let that jackass into a big secret, one I didn't even know."

Dark Jeanne laughed, bitterly. "You were right, 'me', I ain't you. I'm just a clone Gilles dreamed up in the depths of his despair and madness, one that he made by getting his hands on a Holy Grail somehow, one that this Lev and his buddies let fall into his hands. And he proved this by punching right into me and tearing the damn thing out."

Jeanne looked as if she could not decide to be relieved at the confirmation that the monster that shared her face wasn't actually a version of herself, or to be repulsed at what Gilles had done.

Dark Jeanne chuckled at her other self's reaction. "Now imagine how I felt, 'me'. So positive I was some great vengeance come to make France pay for its sins, only to find out I was someone else's badly written snuff fantasy." She rolled her eyes. "Not that I was thinking about any of that at the time, I was writhing on the ground and trying not to die. But it's crossed my mind a time or two since then."

"So, that was apparently the last straw for Gilles. If I said he'd gone berserk when my arm got torn off, the reveal of his plot and me dying on the floor sent him right over the edge to pure bugfuck. Suddenly, portals opened everywhere and the throne room was drowned in more of his slimy little tentacle monsters than I'd ever seen. They were dogpiling everyone in there except me and Gilles, and he picked me up and ran." She gave a little huff. "Not that it did much good. He was hurt, I was fading fast, and I could hear them going through Gilles' pets like a buzzsaw. We had maybe a couple of minutes before they'd be all over us."

"Gilles got me out of the castle, and then set me down. I was almost gone by then, fading in and out, so I only got pieces of what he said. But for a moment, he almost looked like his old self, before he got mixed up with Prelati. He told me I had to live, because it didn't matter how I had come to be, I was as much Jeanne as the real thing."

"So he tore out his own Spiritual Core, and gave it to me."

Da Vinci was nodding her head. "So that's how you're still alive. I was wondering what trick he pulled to keep you around - if a Holy Grail was sustaining you, you'd need something to replace that." She grimaced. "And it's much better than the alternatives - I was expecting you to tell us he bound an orphanage full of children into a state of perpetual agony inside of you, or something of that nature."

"Nope. He just sacrificed himself, so that I could live. It stabilized me enough that I could get back on my feet, and made me more than just a clone of you." She grinned at Jeanne. "Congratulations, 'me'. It's an Avenger."

Romani made a strangled noise. "Two Extra Classes on the first Singularity? It's like all my nightmares come true. Next you'll tell me Magi*Mari has stopped streaming…."

Avenger Jeanne blinked. "Yeah…not touching that one with a ten-foot pole. So Gilles was breaking up at this point, but he had enough juice left to tell me to run, and to throw his Noble Phantasm at the castle. Biggest fucking tentacle monster I've ever seen. It would only last as long as he did, but it gave me enough time to get the fuck out of there, and find a deep hole to crawl into, and figure out what the hells I was going to do."

"This explains why they believed you dead," mused Kratos.

"Yeah, with me breaking apart, and Gilles on his last legs, they probably thought his kaiju was a last bit of spite for seeing me die. I have no idea if he faded out first, or if they got to him and took him out, but they obviously thought we were both dead at that point."

She leaned forward in her chair, eyes smoldering. "So, 'me', you asked 'why'? Because I want revenge on every one of these traitorous fucks. I could care less about France anymore - save it, burn it, I really don't CARE. Because as much as I hated France for what I thought it did to me - which was actually you, to be correct - that takes a backseat to my former Servants. Because they stabbed me in the back, and in doing so, they took Gilles from me. He might have been a monster, but he's probably the only person in the world who gave two shits about me. And I'm an Avenger, which means I can't forget that grudge, even if I wanted to." She spat to the side. "Probably the first real wish I ever had that wasn't given to me by someone else. France was never my grudge - but this one, it's ALL me. Not Gilles or God, this doesn't come from anyone but me."

She sat back, and the burning energy that had been animating her seemed to vanish. "So that's my story. So, Chaldea, can we work together? I don't care what you do to me after this - kill me, clap me in irons, let me vanish with the Singularity - long as I get my revenge, I'll be happy. And I'll sing like a bird about my former allies."

Kratos growled, low in his throat. "This revenge you seek. It will not make you happy."

"Happy?" The Avenger rolled her eyes. "Who the fuck is asking for happy? Don't lecture me you sanctimonious pagan. I ain't looking for happy. All I'm looking for is to know that the chuckleheads who killed Gilles don't get what they want, and are dead before I go to wherever I'll go when I fade out. I get that, and I'll be satisfied."

Medusa was glaring a hole through the Servant. Kratos almost thought he could see her eyes blazing through her blindfold. "I don't trust her, Kratos. She doesn't regret a single thing she did, just that circumstances took her ability to do those things away from her."

"Yeah, I did all those things. What's me feeling sorry for them going to change? Is it going to bring the dead back to life, rebuild what I destroyed, or change a goddamned thing? No." Avenger Jeanne sneered at Medusa. "It's fuckin' pointless. You want trust? Trust that I hate my former Servants enough that I'll happily do whatever you want of me, so long as I get my shot at them. I'll keep my hands off anyone but them and theirs and won't so much as lay a finger on anyone besides them. I'll be on my best behavior until we're done here - and if you want my head at the end, you can HAVE it."

There was a long silence. Kratos, for his part, was torn.

On the one hand, this woman reminded him FAR too much of how he had once been - at times, she seemed almost like a mirror of his past self. Consumed by revenge for the loss of a loved one. Lashing out, heedless of the damage she caused. Abrasive. Rude. And willing to ally with anyone for the sake of their revenge - that Kratos and his allies were not the monsters that the Greek Gods had been mattered little. She was willing to hand herself over to people who mere hours ago had been her enemies, all if it advanced her vendetta. It was as short-sighted as Kratos' plea to Ares had been.

But, to contrast, their list of allies was few, and their enemies were numerous, and largely unknown - something she could aid with. And this Servant she had summoned - it concerned him. His enemies were dead - and those he hadn't slain shouldn't be able to reach him here. It had taken a freak accident to land him in this strange land. And yet….

…the Blades had followed him here - and Athena too, if that had been truly her, and not just a product of his mind. A path made once could be followed by other things.

And Kratos had many who would eagerly leap for another chance at the Ghost of Sparta.

"I have many misgivings about you, Avenger. That you seem proud of your actions is but one of the many reasons." Kratos sighed. He did not like this. Not one bit. "If we are to be allies, you WILL obey my orders, and you will cease your campaign against France - you claim you do not care anymore, but I hear the venom in your voice. Should I find you have lied, I will kill you myself."

The Avenger sniffed. "You can TRY." Then she shrugged. "But fine. Those are easier terms than I expected you to give me. I'll be a good girl. I wasn't lying when I said I don't give a fig about France anymore - you give me the heads of the people who hurt me and Gilles, and I'll be the best little soldier you could ask for." She extended her hand. "Put 'er there."

Begrudgingly, Kratos reached out and grasped the woman's wrist. He had been about to squeeze - not with the intention of breaking bones, but merely to show her a fraction of his power, to impress upon her the seriousness of his words, when he felt it.

It burned through him - a strange sensation, for all that he had felt it now three times before. Foreign energy, blazing a path through him, to his core. It was hotter, more chaotic and wild than the three other strings that had been forged between himself and others.

The formation of a Servant Contract.

For once, the Avenger almost looked taken aback, as Kratos snatched his hand away from her. "The hell's YOUR problem?" That Medusa had raised her stakes, and looked to be seconds away from leaping at the Avenger probably didn't help things. She took a step back, her hand raised. "I didn't DO anything to him! Just sealed the Contract! He's the Master, I'm the Servant - it's what we DO!"

For a moment, Kratos could barely think straight. A Contract with a Servant, and not one that he had agreed to, but one that had been thrust upon him. Another life, however distasteful he might find that person, that he held complete dominance over. Only the realization that the Avenger did not, could NOT have known how Kratos would feel about this kept him from tearing her apart in that moment.

With an angry growl, he turned, and stormed from the cave.

Kratos' footfalls had barely stopped echoing when, predictably, it was the Avenger who broke the silence. "The FUCK was that?"

Mash wanted to see the best in people, she really did. But she was finding it hard to like the crude, foul-mouthed, and just plain rude doppelganger of Jeanne d'Arc. Still, in this case, the fault wasn't hers - at least not intentionally. "Mr. Kratos….he doesn't like being a Master. He says it feels too much like slavery to him. It took a lot of convincing to get him to be a Master in the first place. And then you made a Contract with him without asking, so…."

The Avenger blinked. "Wait, you're telling me an actual GOD has hang-ups about being a Master?" She stared for a long moment. "Where the hells did you FIND him?"

"That is none of your business, Avenger." Medusa had backed down from imminent violence, but she was still radiating hostility. "Though if you're in a hurry to find out what's waiting for a monster like you after you die, call him 'Master'."

The Avenger met the Rider's hostility with a sneer that held only marginally less disdain. "Oh piss off, Violet. Don't use this as another excuse to grind that axe you have against me. This ain't my fault."

Jeanne leveled a glare at both parties. "Maybe the both of you could act like adults." Medusa, for her part, at least looked somewhat chagrined. The Avenger just sniffed and turned her nose up at her double. Jeanne sighed, but held back whatever retort she might have had for her other. Instead, she glanced at the cave entrance. "Should someone go after him?"

Mash shook her head. "No. Give him some time. He won't have gone far…it's…..he'll just need a bit to come to terms with this."

Jeanne nodded. "I agree. I had thought his hesitation to form a Contract with me was because he still wasn't sure I wasn't the Dragon Witch in disguise." The Avenger snickered. Jeanne ignored this. "But I can see that wasn't the only reason. Give him a bit, then one of us can check on him."

"So, what do we call you?" Medusa had at least finally put her stakes away. "We've already got one Jeanne - and one that's much more pleasant to deal with. Are you not-Jeanne? Avenger? Alter? Fake?"

The Avenger rolled her eyes. "You can call me Susan if it makes you happy. But fuck if I know. I didn't think I'd stumble into the real me wandering around the wilds of France. Not something I put a lot of thought into."

[It seems to me she doesn't put much thought into ANYTHING.]

"Avenger works well enough for now. It's not like anyone we're going to fight doesn't already know who I am - just don't bite my head off if you call out for Jeanne and get me responding too. It'll take a while for me to stop thinking of myself with 'me's' name." She gave a puff of breath that was tinged with a whiff of flames, then flopped back into her chair. "Not like I'll be around long enough to bother needing a real name."

Mash felt a twinge in her heart. If someone had told her this morning she would have found herself finding things in common with the Dragon Witch of France, she'd have stared at them uncomprehendingly. And yet…..

She well knew what it was like to have a ticking clock on your short existence.

Kratos sighed to himself, a sigh that was at least halfway on its way to becoming an angry growl.

He had lost control of himself. Not completely, but for a moment in that cave, his anger had been dangerously close to ruling him. Even now, he could feel it, that thin string connecting himself to the Avenger Servant in the cave, one that was so different from the others.

The string connecting him to Mash was soft - much like the girl in question. As soft as the pillows that Kratos' head sank into when he laid down to sleep at night on the luxurious bed they had provided him. At times, he barely noticed it was there.

Cu Chulainn's string was quite the opposite. The tie that bound him to Kratos thrummed with vibrancy and energy - eager to fight, eager to drink, eager to LIVE, however long it had. It matched his legend in that regard. The Child of Light that Mimir had described had been a man who had had little patience for sitting still. It had taken Kratos aback when he had found out this Cu Chulainn was an avid fisher - it was not something that Kratos could have seen the man enjoying. Far too slow and quiet.

(It just lent more credence to the nagging feeling he had that there was much, MUCH more to this Cu Chulainn than the man was letting on - and that somehow, however impossible, he knew this man.)

Medusa's string, for all it was new, was…..calm. Placid - as steady as waves constantly crashing to the shore. The connection between the two of them was new enough that it still felt foreign to Kratos, for as inoffensive as it felt.

Avenger's connection BURNED. Not painfully, or even enough to distract him - but he could feel it. The overwhelming emotions of hate, the NEED for revenge sang from her thread. And worse, it was a familiar song to Kratos, one he had thought himself rid of years ago.

He did not welcome its return in any form - least of all when it was thrust upon him without warning.

"Hey. I'm coming out. Don't tear my head off."

Kratos gave a low, almost inaudible growl. And here was the last person he wanted to see right now.

A silver head of hair ducked out from the cave entrance and looked from side to side until it located Kratos. If she was at all fazed by the scowl on his face, she gave no indication of such. She strode right up to him, not a shred of unease apparent in her bearing. "So, your cheering section let me know that I might have fucked up."

She angled her head up, fearlessly meeting Kratos' eyes. "Leaving aside that of all things a freakin' GOD has issues with being a Master, because what the fuck is all of that, I'm not running on a leyline like 'me' in there, so I thought with you being the Master in that little Girl Scout Troupe in there, and you CLEARLY not trusting me, there was an obvious solution here. And I thought you'd already Contracted with 'me' as well."

Kratos' head was beginning to hurt. "Your point. Make it."

"I'm TRYING to apologize, here….." The Avenger deflated a bit. "Doing a shit job of it, too. Not that I've had much….or ANY experience with it. You don't say you're sorry much when you're a crazy Dragon Witch burning the countryside to a cinder."

"Look, for all the nothing it's probably worth, I'm sorry for forcing you to Contract with me like that. I didn't hold a gun to your head or anything, but it's clear you thought that handshake was just a handshake, and not getting saddled with my ass in addition to whoever else you're carrying." She shrugged. "Not that I'm complaining from my end - I've been mana starved for days, and you're an all-you-can eat buffet. Been keeping myself going on pure spite, just waiting to see what Carmilla's face would look like right before I turned her into ash."

It wasn't the worst apology Kratos had had in his life, but those had largely involved the gods of Olympus. And those couldn't be the standard. "It is done. With hope, our Contract will be a short one."

Avenger gave a bitter little laugh. "Don't like me much, do you?"

"As I said, I have seen where your path of revenge leads." Kratos' scowl grew deeper. "You rush headlong to the ruin of everything you know, including yourself."

"Speaking from experience?" When Kratos didn't answer, she sneered. "Yeah, thought so. I can SMELL it on you. Like recognizes like, in the end. Tight-assed as you are now, you must have fucked up epically, huh?"

Still no response from Kratos. The Avenger's eyes narrowed, and she stepped even closer to look Kratos right in his eyes. "Get this through your head, I'm an AVENGER. My grudges, my hates, my vengeance are what makes me me - it's what gets me up in the morning, what makes me put one foot in front of the other, it's my meat and bread. I literally CAN'T forget anything that's been done to me - there's a constant voice in my head, SCREAMING at me about every single way I was done wrong. So don't fucking lecture me about how terrible the path I'm on is - this train ain't got no motherfucking brakes!"

Kratos gave the woman credit, even in the face of his thinning temper, she didn't back down a step. Brave, or foolish. Or both.

If anything, her scowl at him only got stronger. "So like me, hate me, I don't give a shit. Long as we can work together long enough that I get my vengeance, and you get to save this stupid little country, we can go our separate ways in the end. Just keep a lid on your hang-ups about whatever bad choices you might have made, and let me make my own bad choices. Ruin of everything I know, like I HAVE anything left anymore."

She rolled her eyes, but backed up, moving out of his personal space, and began stalking back to the cave. "I'm going to fill folk in on the rest of my former Servants, so it'd do me a solid if you were there for it, so I don't have to repeat myself. But you do you." Grumbling to herself, the Avenger ducked back into the cave, leaving Kratos alone with his thoughts.

Medusa looked up from where the Avenger was drawing in the dirt, as heavy footfalls indicated Kratos was rejoining them.

He seemed calmer, at least, though he was still scowling. Truthfully, she couldn't blame him. The Avenger was an unrepentant monster at best - simply being around her made Medusa feel dirty, for a number of reasons. And having Contracted with one? It would have made her want to chop her own arm off.

For a moment, she pondered, then, before she could second-guess herself, sent feelings of empathy and understanding through the bond they had, letting him know, if nothing else, she too understood his distaste for their new ally.

She hadn't known it was possible to send the emotional equivalent of a grunt through the Master-Servant connection, but that was what she received. At least he was consistent.

The Avenger waited until Mash had stopped fussing over Kratos before she spoke up. "Good of you to join us, Sourface the almighty. I was just drawing out the wanted posters for my former teammates."

Medusa scooted over, making a place between herself and Mash for Kratos to stand. Once he had taken his position, the Avenger resumed speaking. "So, we can knock Carmilla, Chevalier d'Eon, and the Phantom of the Opera off the list." She indicated three portraits that only bore a passing resemblance to the Servants in question. As they watched, she crossed each of them out with the stick she had been using to draw in the dirt of the cave floor. "I saw to the Bloody Countess, and you bunch did the other two. And Vlad quit the field, and from what I gathered, you'd already figured out who he was before I showed up. We'll get back to him in a minute."

She pointed at a second grouping of children's scribbles pretending to be portraits. "The rest of my Servants stayed with the jerk who usurped me. In order, Atalanta of Greek myth, Charles-Henri Sanson of the French Revolution, and some Black Knight I never got the name for - and don't look at me like that, the bastard was barely capable of speech, other than yelling 'ARRRRRTHURRRRRRR' at the top of his lungs. So, your guess as to who he is is as good as mine."

She aimed the stick she was using as a pointer at two figures, situated above the three Servants. "The big dragon is Fafnir, I already mentioned him, and would be a much bigger problem if his counter wasn't roaming around France right now somewhere - or at least I hope he is, and hasn't been run to ground by my former gang. And the other one…best I can give you is a description, since I was never able to force a name OR class out of him."

She fidgeted, readjusting her legs underneath her. "Bastard was pretty, if nothing else. Long, golden hair, pale skin so smooth it almost glowed, he LOOKED like he'd never done a hard day's work in his life, but the guy could throw down - I mean, you can see what he did to me…." She waggled her stump about. "But Vlad was a literal AND figurative monster, and he handled him easily, and did the same with that Black Knight, who probably was about the same weight class as Vlad. Seriously, he had some trick where he could turn anything into a weapon - swords, spears, or even a damn stick, he'd just snatch it up and send these red lines through it, and the thing would be on the level of a low-end Noble Phantasm. Only thing that was holding him back was how crazy he was, and the Madness Enhancement I put on him didn't help."

"But back on topic, golden hair, so pretty it hurts, and can fight like a mother. Ringing any bells, Glowers McGrumpface?"

All eyes turned to Kratos, who was a long time in answering. "None in that combination. All of my enemies could fight, but only a few from my past life could be considered to be…..pretty. And none had hair the color you describe, not in combination with the other features." He considered for another span of moments. "And all of the enemies I fought more recently were far too rugged to match your description - these foes looked like warriors, and had the scars, marks, and brands to show it."

Avenger gave an over dramatic sigh. "Greaaaat. So who the fuck did I summon, if it wasn't one of your enemies? The chant Lev gave me was supposed to summon someone from your past with an axe to grind. Just another tally on that bastard's sheet, I guess."

Jeanne was looking over the array of questionably-drawn foes. "Is there anything else you can tell us about him? I may not have True Name Discernment as I should, but with enough clues I should be able to figure it out - at least, narrow it down some."

Avenger shook her head. "I got nothing else. I didn't even see him fight Vlad or the Knight - only heard about it secondhand, as the fight was over by the time I got there. I should have realized the Servants I had summoned were starting to get a little closemouthed around me by that time, but I was already at my wit's end with the pretty boy by that point." She thought for a moment - Medusa bit back a comment about hearing some very, VERY rusty gears turning for the first time in ages. "No weapon as far I can tell - when he fucked my shit up, he did it barehanded, and it sounds like that's how he handled the others he picked fights with. But that's the only other thing that's coming to mind about him."

Jeanne shook her head. "Not enough to go on, still. I could make some educated guesses, but those could do more harm than good."

"Then we focus on what we can do," growled Kratos.

"Then on that subject…." Avenger hunched over, again scratching in the dirt. "We're about here….just a bit south of La Charite - the hills south of there have enough little caves in them that I figured one of them would be a good place for me to hole up in while I got back on my feet. And the location's good." To the northwest, she created a crude image of a castle, with stick-wyverns hovering above it. "That's Orleans, where I was squatting - and where I assume the pretty boy still is. 'Me' told me you want to get your hands on that Holy Grail to put an end to all this - odds are, it's there. And I assume it's where you were heading."

Kratos nodded, and she continued. "The one problem with this is Vlad. He got away, and for all his crowing about being free, he's still the bitch of whomever has the Command Seals, which I would assume would be that pretty boy. So if we march straight up to Orleans and kick down their doors, there's every chance the Impaler could run right up our asses with an army of Dead - we MIGHT be able to take the crew at Orleans, but if Vlad shows up, those are shit odds."

Medusa couldn't help herself. "I'm surprised, Avenger. Considering how adamant you've been to get back at your former Servants, I'd have thought you wouldn't care about the odds."

Avenger almost looked sheepish. "Look, lady, I had a LOT of time to think about this. I was laid up for two days before I could get back on my feet after the ass-kicking they gave me. You think being bed-ridden's bad, imagine being bed-ridden as an Avenger. That voice chipping away at your sanity, telling you to wake up, get up, get out there and get back at the people who hurt you, but not being able to. I'd be crazier than Gilles was after two days solid of that if I hadn't found some way to drown that voice out, at least a little bit - and war-gaming scenarios on HOW I was going to get my revenge seemed to make the voice happy - or at least shut it up a bit."

She shrugged. "And, I saw how well I did against that pretty boy last time. If I was going to have any sort of shot at him, I needed to take away some of his allies. It wasn't chance I stumbled on your fight with them, I'd been skulking across the countryside since I got back on my feet, looking for a chance to pick one or more of them off."

She started drawing again. "And that's when I discovered this….." She pulled back, and indicated another castle, drawn slightly to the south of them. "Turns out when that guy let Vlad and Carmilla loose, he gave them a parting gift, I assume with the Grail. That USED to be Thiers - it's now Castle Dracula."

"Wait…what?"

AUTHORS NOTES: Did I see the New Year's 5 star CE this year and immediately have that inspire me with JAlter's Banner of Vengeance? Yes I did. Fear her Chunni Rage.

I also may have been inflicting G Gundam on my better half, and the stock image of the winner of the Gundam Fight might have also been an influence.

Phantom may or may not have taken one look at that Banner and realized he dodged a hell of a 'not-Christine' bullet.

Gilles is a monster by any measure. But even monsters can love, or do noble things. And I do believe Gilles cared about the Jeanne he dreamed up. Enough to sacrifice himself to keep her alive. So we see the Spirit Core transfer that Amgery Boi did to bring Karna back for the Godjuna fight in LB4, and then Karna, because he can't go against his nature, gave said Spirit Core back to Amgery Boi, so we then got to fight Pepe and his Servant.

Gads, parts of this chapter FOUGHT me. And not the combat, which is usually the parts I take the most time with, either. JAlter is difficult to write in such a way that Kratos just doesn't splatter her. Or Medusa, since she doesn't like what she sees in JAlter any more than Kratos does.

Exposition-heavy chapter, but had to let JAlter be the carpet bomb into the nice dynamic we'd been building so far. And given how much she knows about the opposition, there's no scenario where they wouldn't make her spill the tea. But almost no one is happy that she's around, and she's not doing anything to ingratiate herself.

I am not, strictly speaking, the MOST happy with this chapter. I originally had it going longer, but once I typed up the last section, it just kind of FELT like a good stopping point - I had planned to have the team dealing with Vlad in this chapter, but thinking, I feel like that needs more than a short bit, and the proper amount would also make this chapter XBOX HUGE. So, this is the stopping point I'm choosing for the immediate. But again, this chapter FOUGHT me - I don't feel it's really up to the quality of the recent stuff I've posted. Apologies.