Chapter 162: And their consequences.
Priscilla took a step towards the bed, lowering herself down and onto her knees as she loomed over the small body on top of the mattress. Her expression wavering slightly as she extended a hand towards the body, her palm easily covering the top of the entire head and running her fingers through the mop of white hair. Gently rubbing her thumb along the forehead of the child.
"...How?"
"We encountered the Chaldeans." Atalanta responded from behind her, a clear edge in her voice as she spoke which belied the true anger she felt in this situation. Perhaps she might have shared in it, but she could feel only pity for all involved in this sad state of affairs. "While I attacked the one who I considered the greatest threat…"
The Berserker trailed off, Priscilla did not need to be told much more than that. The results went without saying as she closed her eyes and let out a breath. A light with a dark hue grew around the bed, a circle forming inch by inch with symbols carved into the surface of it. She knew very little of miracles, having only been taught a few by her grandmother, but she knew enough to enact minor healing. She focused her efforts into the spell to restore the body of Jack to its prime condition.
Pulling her eyes open, she stared at the body, watching as the burns slowly healed over, unblemished skin replacing cuts and bruises. Though the spear wound on the leg would undoubtedly take the longest. "To think they would go to such lengths…are they so determined to let this world continue on they would slay it's very future?"
She muttered to herself, her lips pulling themselves upwards as Jack groaned and turned over, at the very least she would recover and be awake shortly. Rising back to her feet, she pulled her hand away and turned to face the other two in the room. Steeling her expression as best she could and moving her eyes between them, though the fact it was only two was rather odd. "Where is the one of three bodies?"
Friede lowered her head "Pinwheel retreated to his workshop once more, Lady Priscilla. I believe one of the Chaldeans caught his interest and he has returned to focus more upon his work. It was only at my behest that he left his studies to assist us."
"Hmmm." She looked to the black knight next, though he still wore his helmet she could tell he was exhausted. The scratches and burns across his armour, the slash marks from where he had been struck with a bladed weapon were all signs that he had also come into contact with the Chaldeans.
Of course, their losses had not simply been a case of mere injuries. Her eyes wandered back to Friede. "...I understand that the good Sir Dolion is no longer with us. You have my condolences. Though I did not know him for long, I could tell that he valued you greatly."
Friede did not speak initially, but when she did it was a slow and measured manner of speaking. "His mind was robbed of him and he was set against his own kindred. Though I mourn for his death, I am elated that he was not forced to slaughter more of his brothers and sisters. All that can be done for the moment is to avenge him."
Avenge, was it?
…There was no longer any getting around the issue, she supposed. The Chaldeans had made their intentions perfectly clear and there was nothing more to be said on the matter with them. Perhaps she might have been more partial before they started controlling the minds of the citizens of this land and setting them upon one another, brother slaying brother, at the behest of one who did not even value them.
It was beyond cruel, it was positively vile.
"...Quella has since ended his neutrality, even if he does not believe he has." She stated after a few more moments of silence, her eyes sweeping across the group in front of her. "I have little doubt that he, and those associated with him, have brought all the Chaldeans together once more within his sanctuary. As I can no longer sense their minds within the world of Ariamis. We can only assume that they shall strike soon, once they have revitalised themselves."
Friede nodded her head in assent "They hold a great numerical advantage over us in terms of Servants, and I shall not deny the power that they field is greater than many of our own." she took a single step forwards, placing a hand on her chest "For that reason, I implore you, Lady Priscilla, to unleash the full power of your painted world. Even if for a brief moment, the souls of this land will rise at your behest to fight our shared enemies."
She pulled her lips into a thin line "To wake them all…I allowed but a few on the belief this would be but a quick battle ending in a swift victory. The souls in this land have found their peace, to force them into conflict…" turning her head to the side, her gaze fell once more upon the wounded body of Jack. The small girl lying on her back with her eyes shut, her face shifting ever so slightly as she slumbered.
The fact such a young girl was capable of killing was disturbing and saddening to her, it was why she had not let her into battle, she had not even let her go out right up until the moment the girl acted of her own accord and ran off. Something that had troubled her enough to take Atalanta from where she had been and towards the girl to save her from whatever she had encountered.
"I cannot feel comfort in this state of affairs-"
"Lady Priscilla…" Friede took a step closer, coming up to her side and looking at her with a saddened smile. "I share in your woes, truly, I do. To force those who have found peace back into war is not something I take comfort in, but we must make these small concessions to secure the peace we crave. What we have built here is a land of true peace, if we are unwilling to even defend its existence…then for what have we struggled for?"
"Your words ring true…yet all the same…"
"If not just for the sake of your home, or for the sake of those you protect, then for the sake of humanity as a whole." Friede continued onwards "Think of the Incineration, if Chaldea succeeds here then this final ark will be torn asunder. All humanity will be burnt away in the great fire and those of this era will surely perish."
She understood those words, she understood them well enough and yet she could not find it within herself to become incensed enough to act. Which was a deep shame to her, she could yield the strength to create this world and slay those who threatened it, but she could not ask any other to defend it in her place. Especially since she was the one who raised them at all, they had come to Ariamis to find a world they could rest, not so they could serve as her soldiers and slaves.
Who would deny a request from the one who granted them asylum from the horrors of the world?
There was not a soul who would refuse her. How could they? She governed their very world.
"...Do you believe there truly is no other way, Atalanta?" The Berserker was the only one beside herself who she could trust with such a question, turning her eyes to the animal woman and watching her expression closely. The others fell silent while the two looked at one another, the indigo haired woman remained silent for a few moments, her expression shifting through several emotions before her eyes closed themselves.
She gave a single, silent, shake of the head. Sealing the fate of those of the world once and for all, as well as fixing the path they were upon.
"...I see." There was nothing else to be said then. If no one else could see a path beyond this one, then she would commit this sin for the sake of those who would live if they were victorious. She could only hope that they would forgive her for this act, holding their peace at ransom unless they obeyed her orders. "Friede…you may go and gather your forces. Ensure yourself and your allies are as well as they can be, I believe that Carwen is in dire need of recovery as well…once you have called upon all your allies, I shall…do what needs done."
Though she did not see Friede's expression, she could feel the relief that swam through her mind when the words passed her lips. "Your wisdom shines brightly, Lady Priscilla. You need not worry for the people of this world, all they do, they do for your sake."
Priscilla could hardly call that a comfort. She needed nothing from them, neither in the form of service nor in tribute. All she ever offered them had been without the demand for reparations. Yet, now she was calling upon a service she never wanted or expected to need, the fact the people of Ariamis believed they owed her anything was a rather horrible feeling. It did not matter to her how eager they all might have been in raising their swords to her words and killing those she wished dead, it was something she did not want.
Perhaps it never mattered what she wanted.
The two behind her retreated from the building, closing the door behind them and leaving herself and Atalanta in silence. "...Do you believe I have made the right decision in this?"
It took a moment for the Berserker to respond. "I do not believe there was a choice in the matter. If you meet the Servants of Chaldea in force, with what few numbers we have, there is every chance that we will perish and if that occurs…" she trailed off, taking a step closer and drawing her lips into a thin line. "Though you may not approve of it, this is the only option we are left with. If you cannot accept it, then that is your own burden to bear."
She very nearly chuckled at the comment, that could not be more true. "I would suppose it is. I am envious of your confidence, Atalanta…you express certainty in every one of your statements."
"Is that how it appears?" Atalanta remarked with a bemused hum, she watched as the Berserker pinched her brows together and frowned lightly. "Perhaps it is true, but I accept there is no right or wrong in these situations. Merely the choice that is most appealing, perhaps an effect of my class but…it is far simpler for me as it stands. I act in accordance with my own wishes."
She turned her head to the bed. "And for right now…I wish to keep her and all the children of this world safe. The means by which I achieve that…no longer concern me. If justice will not grant them the peace they deserve, then I have no need of it."
"...Hmmm."
"I believe that is a fault of yours." She announced, causing Priscilla to blink as the shorter woman turned her head upwards and stared at her with hard eyes "You must be more willing to protect this world of yours with whatever means are available to you. Anything less and the peace you strive for will be lost." her lip twitched upwards "You are still…much too kind for your own good."
Her lip twitched at the comment "Perhaps I truly am…"
"...That is not all that concerns you, is it?"
"I am hardly one for keeping secrets or my concerns private, true." Glancing over her shoulder, she stared at the door by which both Friede and Vilhelm had departed before returning her attention to Atalanta. "I was told not to trust the words of Friede and while I would not care for them…they came from one closest to her. Perhaps he worked to instil doubt but…I cannot dismiss the strange inkling in my mind."
The woman remained silent as she spoke, gradually bringing up her arms and crossing them over her chest. She remained silent for but a few moments, then spoke in a slow and measured tone of voice, her pale eyes glanced to the door for a brief second before coming back to her. "I would not dismiss the possibility of an ulterior motive, but I would question still why such a thing truly matters if the end result is for the best? I have made it little secret I care only for the lives of the children."
"...That is true, yes." Atalanta had been frightfully honest from the beginning that the only thing she was truly worried about were the children. Blatantly dismissing the safety of all others so long as the youths could be kept safe, she might not have agreed with the narrowing of her protection - especially since it was the nature of children to grow - but she could empathise with the desire to keep them safe from harm. They held a similar goal, even if their motives differ slightly.
Perhaps it was simply a similar case with the likes of Friede? She had done nothing to warrant any real suspicion and had aided her every step of the way. Bringing her news of the Chaldeans, of the Incineration and of the danger they posed and that the Spirit Quella would not abide the truce forever and would eventually side against her. Recent events had vindicated her advice time and again…perhaps they were offering warnings from a mistaken position?
Or perhaps they truly did not understand what the end goal was. This was a warning from someone she fully intended to kill. It troubled her deeply, to be born in this land of peace, to see all those who found comfort in this world, and then to try and undo all that work because they did not personally accept it? It was the height of arrogance and little more than self-righteousness taken to its greatest extreme.
"Forgive my worries, I am chasing at little more than shadows…"
"...There is more."
A statement rather than a question, once more, Atalanta proved herself to be exceedingly skillful at seeing through the mask of serenity she wore. It was a strange thing, in the past the only one to see through this guise of hers was her grandmother, now it was Atalanta who did much the same. To be read so easily…
Was she terrible at masking her own emotions?
"There is more, yes." There was one thing that troubled her above all else, the flashes of memories she had seen from the one she fought, his violent reaction and his instinctual feeling to flee from her as fast as he could. He had lashed out at her before she could fully complete the remembrance, which meant his mind would be left in turmoil. In effect, she had tortured him.
And it was torture. Especially given the nature of the memories she had uncovered.
"The Servant you fought…the one who injured me…he did not know it at first, nor did I until light was shed upon his locked soul." She hesitated, the image of a bruised child suffering another series of beatings at the hand of a knight while the blank face of a mother watched on filtered through her mind. "...He is my younger brother."
He didn't know what Queen he spoke of, he did not know who Gawyn was, all he knew was that his mind was starting to slip away from him. Thoughts that were not his own flooded through him, memories from times he did not recall experiencing and voices from people he never met.
If this was indeed a curse, then it was a cruel one.
And one that he was starting to believe he could not endure, rather, it was long since past that point. He was becoming dependent on the whispers of the voice, they were starting to control him, bit by bit, his mind was surrendering to the demands of the voice. They spoke of value and duty and he hung on their every word, their every syllable.
This was no longer a poison, it was a consistent attack against his mind and one that would not stop. Rather, it had gotten worse. How else was he supposed to deal with this except through the only manner that was presented to him. He could no longer afford to take half measures or bank upon the hope that his mind would somehow banish these thoughts.
"I don't care how long it takes…" He whispered out, ignoring the shadow that invaded his personal space yet remained just hidden from the corner of his eye. It was so close now that all he would need to do would be to raise his arm and he would strike it, at least, if it was solid he would have done. Rather, he stared at the blonde woman in front of him, he cared not for how he sounded or appeared.
"Just…get the voice out of my head…" He might well have been begging her now but he did not care in the least. He wanted the poison gone and if that meant inviting another figure to affect something to his mind, then that was fine. This was what the mental attack wanted, him to become dependent on the voice, that had to be it. That promise of value if he obeyed his duty, it preyed upon the natural instincts that all humans should possess.
It was little wonder they slept so soundly in this world, if they were being deceived into believing they were fulfilling their purpose then there was no way they would have been able to resist. Of course, no human would ever accept the world of Ariandel in their current condition, especially if they were from an era that was still moving onwards. Certainly not an entire city worth of people, there would surely have been some who rejected.
Yet, how could they reject if this world was subtly influencing them?
It was sinister, it was repulsive.
"It's…it's consuming me from the inside out." He hissed out from between his teeth, his emotions now flaring as a thousand different thoughts swirled in his mind. Horrific rejection of the voice combatted the desire to embrace it further, to hold the value that the voice spoke of so deeply and never let it go. It was a value that he knew would take complete control of him if he let it.
His duty was his own.
His duty was his own.
His duty was his own.
He repeated the mantra in his head, all the while Jeanne had taken a step away from him with wide eyes, clearly surprised by his sudden switch in tactics but he did not care at this point in time if he was countering himself. He didn't want the voice to steal anything else that belonged to him.
He…
He didn't want to lose his sense of duty.
He couldn't lose that. If he lost that…then he had nothing left.
Bringing his right hand up, he extended his index finger and placed it against the side of his helmet, rapping it against the steel and producing a knocking sound. "It's…just get rid of it, please, I don't care what you have to-"
"Ash, you don't need to-" Jeanne cut herself off, grimacing for a moment and then stepping forwards once more. Bringing her hands up and placing them on his shoulders, steadying him in place and holding him there, her features hardened a moment later. "You do not need to beg me to help you. This is behaviour expected between allies." she flashed a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, though that was on account of the concern flooding them. "I will do all I can to help you."
"...My thanks."
"You do not need to thank me for this." Jeanne shook her head, dismissing his gratitude as though it was completely unnecessary. He supposed she didn't quite understand what she was doing for him or how deeply he was being affected by this. Death in the physical sense was something he could handle.
This…this wasn't even Hollowing.
At least with Hollowing you lost your duty completely.
This was…a perversion of his entire being. His mind was being forcefully warped to agree with a certain way of being that he could not condone in any other method. Twisted and controlled, it was a fate far worse than death.
Nobunaga nodded her head at his side. "Yeah, this is the sort of thing all these Saints live for. So, really, she should be thanking you for giving her the chance to do all this sort of purification thing." he stared at her from the corner of his eye, her smug expression as she confidently nodded her head up and down. Privately wondering if she even cared for the fact she was receiving a dull look from Jeanne.
Then the Archer paused for a moment, furrowing her brows and stopping her nodding. "Wait, you're not gonna accidentally kill him, are you?"
His eyes switched towards Jeanne for a moment, he was more than a little tempted to say that dying would be preferable to losing himself in such a manner. No, it simply was preferable. Being killed before his mind was stolen from him was exactly the sort of mercy he would expect or even demand, in the same way he would perform the same act to another if there was no hope for them.
"Excuse me?" Jeanne, meanwhile, looked thoroughly unamused and almost scandalised as she released his shoulders and whirled on the Archer "What is that supposed to mean?"
Raising her hands, Nobunaga gestured towards him "He's an undead and you're a Saint. Aren't you guys supposed to be all about purifying undead spirits?"
Jeanne fell silent immediately after that, her expression twisting into confusion and then blanking out as she dropped her arms to her side, furrowing her brows slightly as she fixed the Archer with a silent stare. The black haired woman remained stone faced in the presence of the unblinking gaze of Jeanne, still with her hands on her hips.
"What? I'm asking some very pointed questions here. This seems like a genuine concern." Bringing her hand up, she pointed at his head. "What if you try to fix his head and end up frying his brain or something?"
The Saint still said nothing, her face unchanging.
"...We having a staring contest now or something?" Nobunaga curled her lip downwards into a clear frown. Now bringing her arms up and crossing them over, "And you're looking at me as though this isn't a real worry. He is an undead or an unkindled or whatever type of deathless summon he is. So much so that it's stuck with him even as a Servant. Exorcising undead spirits with sermons is what people like you are famous for…not you specifically but all the same."
Jeanne did eventually open her mouth, speaking slowly and in a very measured tone, "If there was even the slightest chance I could inadvertently cause him more harm than good. Do you truly believe I would have made the offer and been so adamant on it?" she raised a single eyebrow, twisting her expression into incredulity. "There is just as much chance of him suffering from this as you."
Nobunaga shrugged her shoulders "That's all you needed to say. I don't want to be throwing him into getting treated only to watch from the sidelines as he bursts into flames and screams the whole while." following this statement, she jerked a thumb over her shoulder towards the direction of the children "How would any of us explain that to the little kids? Not to mention Master."
Letting out a breath, the Saint returned her focus to him and offered a strained look. "You should not pay too great a heed to her words. Though there might have been some risk, the sermons to exorcise curses are radically different to those of removing undead." there was a brief moment before she spoke again "Though, I am unsure I would be capable of doing anything to the most prevalent curse that you are afflicted with-"
"You do not need to worry yourself with that one." He knew what she spoke of, there was only one true curse that he was familiar with. There was nothing that could be done to save him now, if there had ever been something that could have saved him before. "Just…my existence is cursed enough but I retain myself…I do not wish to lose that."
"While I cannot empathise with that struggle, I shall do what I can." Jeanne assured him, sending one final glance towards Nobunaga and then letting out a second tired breath. "And you may rest easy with the knowledge that I shall not 'fry his brain' as you so delicately put." Nobunaga made a face at her and threw her arms up, turning towards him and offering a 'what can you do?' expression.
At this point, he was finding it difficult to care either way if he was cured or died.
Shaking his head, he glanced back to the Saint as she stood in front of him, a silence descending between the two of them that stretched on for more than a few seconds longer than he would have thought normal. "...Is there something I have to do or…?"
"Just stand there." Jeanne closed her eyes, then brought her right hand up and extended the tips of her fingers towards his head, placing them on the front of his helmet in between where his eyes were and then going silent. He was not sure if something was going to be happening any time soon, but he could feel nothing emanating from the woman. Then again, with his limited experience with mental attacks, he had no way of knowing what went into curing them.
Nobunaga was rolling back and forth on her heels, her eyes flickering between the two of them before she started to quietly hum, turning her head away from the pair of them and glancing across the scenery.
Jeanne's expression tightened, her lips pulling themselves into a faint frown and her eyebrows pinching together. "That is…" She quietly whispered to herself, pulling her hand away from his forehead and opening her eyes once more.
"...That is not what I…" She frowned deeply now "I am not at all familiar with magecraft, but something of the effect you described should have been more noticeable. At the very least, it would have been a surface layer presence upon your mind and yet…I cannot sense anything ill about you."
…What?
"Huh?" Nobunaga gave voice to his thoughts, her head whirling around and twisting "What the hell is that supposed to mean? He's having hallucinations and hearing voices. You don't get much iller than that!" she pointed to his face "He can't be fighting people or doing much of anything like that! Look again!"
Jeanne bit her lip "It…this is not something that requires repeated searches." she explained, though her voice was now marred with confusion. "If there is something affecting your mind, it is not a curse and yet…I cannot sense any of the obvious signs of magecraft affecting you, and if it was magic of the Age of Gods, that would be all the more present upon you…"
Letting out a breath, she tightened her hands into fists, a flash of frustration running through her features. "This is not something I expected…you have high enough Magic Resistance that anything that affected you would be obvious enough to be seen. Perhaps I might not have been capable of removing it but I would have detected it but…there is nothing…"
It couldn't be nothing.
That would imply that there was nothing wrong with him, clearly there was something wrong with him. He knew that there was something wrong with him because he was losing himself bit by bit. If it continued any further then there was no telling what greater influence this 'Queen' would have over his mind. His eyes swivelled, the shadow gazed at him as silent as ever yet even that provided no comfort. It hung over him, a promise of things to come.
The closer it had gotten, the greater the influence of the voice had become.
…What would happen when it touched him?
"It has to be something." He stated a moment later, there was no sense in hiding the full weight of his emotions now. He took a single step forwards, reaching out and grabbing the Saint by the upper arm, it was not a tight grip but it was forceful enough that she would not be immediately able to escape. "Jeanne…you have to do something!"
Perhaps it was the desperation in his voice but he didn't care, all he could think of was the idea of being left alone with the voice, that it would remain and never leave him.
"She's going to take me." She was going to continue whispering into his mind, he was going to be pulled in deeper and deeper until he could remember nothing but the voice. Until he was obsessed with nothing but the voice, where he would do anything to hear it again. "She is-her voice is going to get louder!"
His speech cracked the longer he talked, now more aware of the whisper than ever before. He dared not look at the shadow, but he could feel the pressure. Like a burning in the back of his mind, a pulling force that was like a noose around his neck, trying to drag him back and spin him around to face it. "She's taking it from me. She is going to make me one with this place, she's going to make me like them. You can't let her do that…I don't want her to-"
"No one is going to take you anywhere." Jeanne cut him off with a stern voice, her expression hardening as she reached out with her other hand and pried his grip from her, though she instead clasped his extended hand in her own. Holding onto it as though she was now worried he would retreat. "I cannot find anything but that does not mean it doesn't exist. I promise you, here and now, that I will do everything in my power to help you."
He stared at the hand that gripped him so tightly, taking note of its hold on him, perhaps the only literal lifeline he had left. Never before had the similarities between the Saint and the Firekeeper been so obvious as they were right, yet their intentions could not have been further from one another. "...My…thanks…"
Nobunaga leaned in, furrowing her brows "So what does the voice even want you to do anyway? You said it's stealing something from you."
He shuddered at the memory, or perhaps the command. "...It tells me my value is in my duty."
"...And that is different from what you say because-"
"Not that duty." He hissed out, quickly realising his aggression and turning from her in shame. It was an honest mistake on her part and not something he should truly be infuriated with but he could not help but let slip his true emotions. Taking in a breath, he steadied himself "The duty of all unkindled. She is telling me that my value…is burning for the flame. That is all I am worth."
And he was starting to believe her.
The pair of them made a face, Nobunaga's being more pronounced "This voice is telling you to, what? Set yourself on fire and die? And you're putting up with this?" scoffing loudly, she shook her head from side to side. "Tell it to get lost. Why are you even entertaining-"
"Because I believe her." The words silenced her a moment later "Or rather, I am being made to believe her. You…cannot imagine the appeal of this voice. The mere thought that my actions will please it…they are consuming." he turned his head to her, a dry wheeze escaping him. "I am…losing myself, bit by bit. I fear what will happen if the voice gets louder. Like a chain tightening around my neck and dragging me back. If…If I return to a point where I believe my one value was in lighting the flame…I will kill myself."
The Archer grimaced "We can just summon you again, you know? Not ideal but…"
He stilled.
The grip on his hand tightened a moment later, demanding his attention be pulled from the Archer onto that of the Ruler once more. He did not look to her at first, for he knew what expression that the Saint would be making. His reaction had been subtle, not invisible. If the woman was already paying attention to him beforehand, then it would have been all too easy.
And this was something that was…rather pressing now and could not be explained away.
"Ash." He still did not look, but there was an edge in the voice of the Ruler that had not been there before, a tension now filling the space around them, as though the air was now heavier than it had been moments before. "Is there…something wrong?"
"I…"
Perhaps he would have provided an excuse, or perhaps he would have spoken the truth at that moment. Whatever the case, his mind blanked out on how he would answer her. His ruse would be seen through quickly if Chaldea found they could not resummon him, though, by that point, it would be much too late for them to do anything about it. Except that Romani was also aware and he would voice his concerns about his death long before he got the chance to die.
Though…he could not imagine the reactions, Ritsuka's inability to treat him like a tool was becoming an obstacle. Especially when he was against the more volatile plans that might end in even the death of a regular Servant, he had an insistence on avoiding those situations.
"I-"
A voice called through the clearing.
"Sulyvahn! You're back!" The jubilation in the voice of Quella snapped him from whatever trance he had been in. His head whirring away from the Saint and pulling his arm free from her grip, taking several steps down the hill and coming to a halt. He knew beforehand that Quella was not speaking of the red haired Ruler, and when the Caster stepped through the fog wall at the very edge of the clearing, moving into the enclosed space, he could feel only irritation.
The Caster would, no doubt, hear of this weakness and lord it over him-
He tilted his head a moment later as he registered the state the Caster was in, missing his left arm at the shoulder, the front of his body looking as though it had been set ablaze and his every step little more than a pained stumble. He looked more than a little worse for wear, rather, he looked as though he would perish at any moment. A large part of Ash very much hoped that he would.
That part of his mind was quashed swiftly.
Focusing on rage right now would be…troublesome. He had to keep his head clear just to maintain his sense of reason.
"Oh my goodness!" Quella's voice shifted into horror and worry in the very next moment, the white cloaked Spirit rushing over to the Caster with frantic steps and a face visibly full of upset. "What happened to you?"
"It…is nothing…" Ash took a few more steps down the hill, keeping his eyes on the Pontiff as he grunted out an answer, barely making out the voice of the Caster as he replied with a rather strained tone of voice, clearly unsure what to do in response to the obvious concern of the small Spirit.
"It's certainly not nothing!" Quella snapped and - strangely of all - even Sulyvahn seemed cowed by the sudden anger in the voice of the blue haired boy, though it quickly shifted back into a worry a moment later as his shoulders loosened. "You're missing an arm and you're covered in burns. You know better than to be reckless with fire! Especially for one of the woodland sort!"
Ash…was left rather confused as to what manner of pantomime he was witnessing at this moment, feeling his brows visibly furrow. Though, it did confirm that this Sulyvahn and the red haired one were entirely different, or from a different point in their lives. The physical changes alone were jarring, which meant it was up in the air what the personality changes would be like. Jeanne seemed to speak highly of them so he supposed it was worth the benefit of the doubt.
"It…was unavoidable." Sulyvahn changed his story from last time, turning his head from the Spirit and visibly looking to move away from them. He paused a moment later as his head swept across the scenery, briefly locking onto him and then something behind him, "Hmph. I see you managed to find safety…I don't know whether to be furious you survived or impressed that you truly had the will to abandon me to my fate!"
"I had no intention of abandoning you." Jeanne's voice snapped back from behind him, sounding rather affronted "I would have returned if we had not been separated-"
"'Would have' and 'could have' change nothing of the present. The fact of the matter is that you-"
"She left you because I took her from the conflict." A third voice spoke up, this one cold and full of rather concealed venom. Ash glanced at it, raising an eyebrow behind his helm at the Sulyvahn of the younger sort who had risen from his seated position, his expression warped into a deep scowl and leaning on his staff for support, his fingers tightly wrapped around the shaft of the catalyst to the point they were going white.
"If you are to blame anyone, then you might aim your anger at me…though…" the lips pulled themselves from a scowl into a sardonic smirk. "I would find myself rather pleased to learn that anything I did was something that caused you harm."
That…was not what he expected at all. Perhaps Jeanne truly was correct in her assessment of this one, though it just left open the question of what turned this Sulyvahn into the Pontiff. Speaking of, he glanced back to the Caster for a reaction, seeing that the taller Servant was now slightly and stood upright, his shoulders squared.
"Someone who seeks to save the souls of everyone would willingly leave one behind to die?" Sulyvahn dryly remarked with his own irritation. "That's rather cold of you, is it not? Are you already finding that childish ideal of yours too difficult to hold onto, boy?"
"Don't talk about my ideal, bastard!"
"Hey!" The voice which shook the very ground came from none other than Quella, the young spirit making a show of stamping his foot as well. His face full of disapproval as his eyes darted between the two Sulyvahn's. "None of that sort of talk here! There are young ones present and I think they can do without you two trying to bite each other's heads off." he turned back to the Caster version "Go and wait by the corner. I'll be along to help you with recovery in a moment-"
Ritsuka chose that moment to step through the fog wall, a small white haired girl with a black cap on her head, wearing a wide hemmed frilly dress of a matching shade clinging to his back. The dark haired boy paused the very second he stepped through the doorway, yet there was something strange about him. He felt…different than he had done so before, as though there was something more to him.
His Master took a few more steps forwards before he came to a halt directly in front of Quella, he opened his mouth to speak only for the Servant to beat him too it, a rather excited noise came from them as they darted forwards, Ash tensed himself as Quella brought his hands up…then loosened his posture as he watched the Servant just grab the side of his shoulders and do nothing else but speak in an jubilant tone. "You finally made it! I hoped that we would meet earlier but I ended up missing you!"
"Erm…" Ritsuka's response was rather eloquent.
"And you!" Quella turned his attention to the girl on Ritsuka's shoulder, removing his hands from the Master, and now cupping his chin. "Hmmm…you're not human but you're definitely related to them, I can tell that much…alright, I like you. You can stay as well."
"...Erm…" This time, the dumbfounded response was courtesy of the strange white haired girl who was, apparently, not human.
Mash stumbled through the fog wall next, her expression shifting from surprise to amazement a second later.
Then Nero in better fitting armour trudged on through. Plated steel with red accents lining the battle dress, curled horns mounted on the shoulder pauldrons and an expression that was nothing shy of baffled as her head whirled around in several locations-
"Sir Mordred!"
…Sir what?
Mordred froze, turning her head in the direction of the call and watching as Percival raised his hand towards her. For reasons Ash could not even begin to fathom, the Knight did not sound infuriated at the presence of this one, but rather, he sounded overjoyed. The confusion only deepened as he watched Percival take big long strides towards her, not even with a weapon in his hand, and spreading his arms wide in greeting.
"The fu-Percival!?" Mordred stumbled backwards "What the-how are-when did you-!?"
"Hahaha!" Letting out a booming laugh, the knight came to a halt in front of her, swinging his arm down and striking her on the left shoulder. The strike was barely enough to even jostle the knight. "It is a rare treat to see you so lost for words! I didn't think my presence would be so surprising, especially since you were also summoned here." placing his hands on his hips, the knight smiled as though he was greeting an ally and not a fiendish monster.
"Loss for words?" Mordred snapped back at them, her face twisting into an irritated smirk "As if anything I said could pass through that dense head of yours! You're just as bad as Gawain!" Now pointing an accusing finger at him "And-" she cut herself off, now turning her head and looking at him, frowning openly and leaning backwards.
…When did he actually get close to them?
"...The hell are you staring at?" Mordred snapped at him, looking him up and down for a few moments then glancing at Percival, jerking a thumb towards him. "The hell is this supposed to be?"
"Ah." Percival made a noise "Ash, I believe that-"
"You…are Sir Mordred?" He asked, thoughts of whatever had troubled him were all but banished from his mind. Perhaps he would have cared to hold his emotions in check before now, but it could no longer be contained. Not when one who was directly responsible for suffering stood before him.
No, worse than suffering, one who plunged an entire Kingdom into chaos for simple ambition. This was, without a doubt, the type of human he hated most of all, even Drake limited her degenerate ways to her own person and those foolish enough to follow her. This was one who ruined all others built because they demanded more than their station provided.
"The one who destroyed Camelot and slew King Arthur?" He elaborated further, he had heard Percival call her as such, leaving no doubt in his mind. Beyond that, he saw the clear relationship now. It was not a shared semblance with Nero, it was a shared semblance with Arthur. Even the battle skirt was similar enough, eerily similar to the version he met in the burnt city.
Mordred stared at him in silence, then had the audacity to cross her arms over her chest as though what he spoke of was nothing more than an inconvenience. "Yeah. I am." Her declaration was met with silence. "The Knight of Treachery who killed father and destroyed Camelot."
Emerald eyes narrowed, her head tilted to the side "You got a problem with that?"
A…problem?
"...That depends..."
There was no response save a raised eyebrow.
His right arm slowly moved across his body, Mordred glanced down and tracked the movement with deliberate slowness, perhaps he was obvious but he cared not. No, he wanted her to see. He wanted her to know exactly what his intentions were. The arms that had been lazily crossed over her chest slowly came undone, though she still had no weapon to grip.
Something caught his wrist before he could make it to the Bottomless Box, he did not need to see who had caught him to know who delayed him. Yet confusion swam to the forefront of his mind immediately. It was impossible for him to consider, yet there was only one person who was close enough to prevent his actions and Mordred had yet to make a proper move.
"...What are you doing, Percival?"
"I'm stopping you from making a mistake." The knight answered him with a hard tone of voice. "I have my own grievances with Mordred but I will certainly not settle them here and now and it remains a matter for Camelot." he tightened his hold on the wrist. "While I am heartened to see that Camelot means a great deal to you even through the stories I spoke of…it is not your place to dispense justice already dealt. Whatever guilt Sir Mordred carried, died when she did."
"Her death is not nearly enough to atone for all the lives she ruined since." Gritting his teeth, he finally turned to the knight and found himself staring into a stern face. "And I cannot comprehend why you would even defend this…" looking back at Mordred, he snarled "Betrayer."
"Exactly." Percival insisted "She is a traitor to Camelot. She had done you no personal wrong-"
"Me?" He snatched his arm from the Knight, stepping back and turning to face him fully "It is not about me! It is about her and what she has done! There is no personal wrong that needs to have been done to me to see what she is capable of! It is the crime she has committed to those of Camelot! The lives she ruined with her thoughtless ambition and the lives she could still ruin!"
He glared at the knight "Unless she would profess her guilt for all to hear and beg for absolution-"
"Get fucked!" Mordred snarled at him, not even waiting for him to finish speaking before she laid her true colours bare, just as he expected from her. She did not even look the least built guilty for her crimes. She stepped forwards, shoving Percival aside when he moved to block her path, Ash barely noted how quiet it had gotten. "You think I'm gonna fucking beg you for some sort of forgiveness? Who do you think you are, you self-righteous asshole!? Yeah, I rebelled against King Arthur! The only one who matters is King Arthur and you're as far from the King as you can get!"
Bringing her hand up, she stabbed a finger at him "So you can piss off with this 'holier than thou bullshit'. You're not even from Britain, are you?" waving a hand at Percival, she continued on "You think after hearing a couple stories from this rock headed oaf you can suddenly pull some sort of judgement on me? As though you're the same authority as Father!?"
Her helmet snapped upwards, the horns pulling away from her shoulder and towards the side of her head, steel cranked and hissed as it instantly covered her face, crimson lightning crackled across the plates of armour. "I should kill you for even implying you're the same as Father!"
He scoffed at her "You think my duty ends at the border of my own world?" clenching his hands into fists, he could feel the burn of pyromancy in his hands, the wisps of black fire climbing up his forearms as though to match the knight. "I might not be your King, but I do not need to be to pass judgement on you. I punish all those who are threats to humans…" he took a single step forwards, looming over the shorter knight. "Especially those who forsake their duty for their own ambition. You call yourself a knight?"
He felt the sneer on his lips. "You insult those who take their duties to heart. How dare you compare yourself to them. Even without the crime of Camelot's fall above your head, I should kill you for even implying you are to be knighted!"
"Oh yeah!?" Mordred's arms blurred, he staggered backwards as she punched him in the gut, the blow serving to put some distance between the two of them as she raised her hands, clenching them into fists. "You want to fight!? I'll turn that empty fucking head of yours into paste, asshole!"
"You could have saved face by offering your neck!" Nothing else mattered right now, not the shadow, not the shouts of alarm around them, nothing but this creature. This swine. She did not even realise her own folly, blinded and consumed by her ambition. His hands flexed, black fire surging through his palms and coating his hands in the abyssal flames. "Though I can just as easily take it with force!"
He took a single step forwards-
"Enough."
Every muscle in his body locked up.
The voice returned in force, his knees buckled and he felt as though he was to be driven to ground at any moment.
Not now! Not when he was about to deal with-
…Why was Mordred reacting the same way as him?
Why did her body shudder as though being pushed?
If the voice was in his head then why did-?
"I'm sorry that I acted first, young one, but I thought to take the lead just before violence could ensue." That impossible, intoxicating voice spoke once more, every fibre of his body cheered, every inch of his brain screamed in terror. "Though, I believe I acted for the best in preventing such an outcome, I am rather accustomed to dealing with unruly children such as these."
The reactions of the world fell into muted silence.
Nothing but the voice filtered through his mind.
"And truly, I had not expected something quite so surprising when I stepped through the door."
The voice grew louder.
"But, in every era, there are always those who prefer to speak with their fists rather than their wits." The voice giggled, a sound so beautiful horrifying that he could do nothing but stand in silence. It was demanding his attention, the very notion of doing anything to interrupt the one who spoke was so disgusting, so wrong, that it was barely considered. "But that is fine, those can be some of my favourite people to meet with as well…there's something about their fire that is enticing…"
It was a shadow no more.
A woman in a silken dress, chestnut coloured hair and perfectly sculpted features stepped into his line of sight, moving between himself and Mordred.
Static filled his mind.
Her hands cupped his cheeks, she stared down at him with a smile that was filled with pride, her eyes glow with the radiance of the sun.
"You're perfect." She whispers, though the words reached his ears and emotions that could not be described with mere words flooded his body, drowning every sensation. "You will do the work of the Kingdom, my work." her fingers trace along his cheeks "You understand how important that is, don't you?"
He does. He knows what his duty is.
"I understand."
"Wonderful." Another hushed whisper, she draws her hands away from his face. "Think always on my lessons."
Her lessons, her wisdom, her grace.
"Your word is my duty. My duty is my purpose. My purpose is my value."
As long as he fulfilled his duty, as long as he fulfilled her purpose, he would be valuable. That was all he needed.
"You shall light…a most spectacular flame." She turns her back on him, slowly retreating towards the gates once more. The towering castle that stretches to the very sky. The knights surrounded her, the closest one looked between them with an expression drawn so tightly that it might nearly tear them open. His tutor in weapons shakes for but a few moments before he too, turns his back and follows after the Queen.
His Queen.
"Go forth, fulfil your purpose and make your value great enough to renew the world once more." The parting words of the Queen ring true, she has faith in his abilities, as she always has done. His duty will be in her words. As long as he fulfils her words, her commands, then he shall be valuable.
If he burns in the flame, he will be valuable to the Queen.
He will be valuable to-
"High Queen Gwynevere…?"
The woman froze, her head slowly turned back towards him, confusion flashed through her eyes as she focused on him. First looking towards his armour, then back to his head. She fully twisted herself, raising her brows for a moment before taking several steps towards him and then leaning down.
"High Queen?" She whispered to him, her golden eyes burned so brilliantly dangerously they were enticing terrifying as though he could stare into them for hours. "Now that is a rather curious thing to call me, isn't it? I wonder…"
Her right hand moved upwards, towards her own head, placing a single index finger on her cheek and then tilting her head to the side.
He had to get away.
"And yet I sense something familiar about you…Hmmm." She hummed, intrigue in her eyes. Then they roamed his body, narrowing. "And far beyond the fact you wear my son's armour."
He had to get away from her.
Though she did not smile, there was a touch of amusement in her voice. "Though, it is a secret we can uncover together." the amusement vanished, replaced by a stone cold command "Remove your helmet."
He moved on instinct.
Stop moving! Stop moving! Stop moving!
His body did not obey, his arms brought themselves upwards and reached for his helmet. They stopped just shy of touching him, his muscles locking up and his hands trembling.
Don't let her see your face.
If she sees your face, it's all over.
"You're hesitating…" Her eyes flashed, lips pulling themselves upwards into a faint smile that was almost taunting. "Quite the strong will you have there. Now I'm certain we must have met. I could just ask…but why spoil the surprise?" another chuckle that sent his heart racing, through fear or trepidation, he could not tell. "Just a bit more…"
Help me! Help me! Help me!
His arms shook, his fingers moved closer and thoughts of resistance faded from his mind. His hands wrapped around the side of his helmet, slowly pulling it upwards-
"Hey!" Jolting at the voice, he stumbled backwards as though he had been struck, his hands flying away from his helmet and his breath leaving him at irregular intervals. His hand pressed against his chest, something burned deep inside him, the memories flooded back through his mind.
Barely even aware Quella was now standing in front of him. "I'm barely allowing you here on a technicality you came with the human." the voice was barely a growl. "If you ever think to try and use your authority to control someone in my line of sight again, or if I have reason to suspect you of doing that…" the spirit took in a breath. "Do not mistake my unwillingness to use violence as a weakness…I can make exceptions. Especially for Lordkin."
There was no initial response from Gwynevere, then there was. "I see you haven't changed your ways. Though…I suppose I'm not that curious about who he is anyway."
He turned away, stumbling from the group and back the way he had come, his pace picked up to the point it nearly became a run.
He dared not even look over his shoulder, he just had to get away from her.
The voice was here and it was even more powerful.
If Quella had not been there…
His body jerked as he struck something, perhaps a body trying to block his path, but he kept on walking. Pushing past it and further on.
He dared not turn around.
No matter how much he wanted to.
No matter how much his body begged him to.
He moved onwards.
Queen Gwynevere was here…but a single impossible word bounced around in his skull.
Another title he knew her by.
…Mother.
AN: An thus, the worst family reunion begins.
And it shall only get worse.
As for how many chapters are left of this Singularity?
Not a lot, won't lie.
Probably three or four…actually, don't bother asking me because even I don't know.