***Author's Note: Thanks for the patience on the long break everyone. We should now be back on the standard schedule. Thank you for your continued support!
Chapter 5.
The Enemies Myriad
I.
Armand Busoni had interacted with a number of eccentric individuals ever since he had assumed the position of Grail War mediator. However he was still somewhat unsure of how to handle the pair with whom he was now faced. A man was seated in the foremost pew of the assembly and hardly appeared to be paying the Abbe any mind. At least as far as Armand could perceive from the man's hidden features. He wore a thin black hooded sweatshirt that obscured the features of the upper half of his face, and kept his head tilted down enough that Armand had trouble seeing anything below the hood's shadow. The incredibly distressed black jeans he wore spoke to either a very difficult lifestyle, or very little care about personal appearance. His hands were nearly completely covered in stained and dirty hands wraps, but the Abbe could at least see the deep black of the man's fingertips, and the chipped bloody nails on the ends of them. Despite all the care the man whom had introduced himself as Mordaunt took to hide his appearance, the one thing he seemed to put little effort into hiding was the large survival knife at his hip. It was also the only visible thing on his person that appeared to have any effort given to its care. A heavy-looking button-up pouch on his other hip completed Mordaunt's appearance.
The servant who accompanied him was in almost every way his opposite. Where his posture was hunched and guarded she stood brazen and haughty. Her long golden hair fell in tight ringlets around her alabaster shoulders. Her dark lashes and brows stood in contrast to her light hair, and lent an even more striking azure color to the brilliantly beautiful eyes they framed. Her dress was ostentatious, to put it lightly. She wore a low-cut dark maroon dress, the top of its edges lined with an intricate white lace. The sleeves of the garment were separate and puffed out at the tops where they sat just below the shoulder. The bottom of the dress was fitted over a wider pannier, the resulting flat space on the front of the garment showcased multiple woven scenes of men being brutally killed by a woman who closely resembled its wearer. She held a small black and gold masquerade visor in her hand that she would occasionally lift to her dark red lips. Her beauty was striking, but a cautious enough eye could immediately sense the cruel murderous energy which it concealed. This violent intent was the one trait the master and servant shared.
The Abbe directed his words at the seated master as he attempted to converse with the threatening pair. "I appreciate your coming by as instructed. However you were more than welcome to visit before summoning your servant. There was no need to bring her here. Surely you don't want to risk another master coming by and encountering them."
"There is hardly any need for such cautions my dear Abbe." The servant's words dripped with honey and venom equally as she replied on her master's behalf. "My master was the last to summon. And I, the last to answer the call. I doubt there is much chance of another master making an appearance here now. Unless the fighting has already started in earnest without us. In which case a defeated master may be about to rush through the doors and demand sanctuary. Oh how lovely to encounter a fool so quickly defeated and ready for the sweet release we could offer." She let out a slight chuckle at the implication of her own words, clearly entertained by the sound of her own voice. "Oh but of course the others would surely have not started fighting before we were all assembled. That would hardly be fair or fun of them. Would it master? Could you imagine? Someone not abiding the rules and spirit of the contest properly like that?"
Mordaunt's only reply was to raise his head slightly in his servants direction and make a sound that was likely a laugh of some sort.
The Abbe was used to being the one testing the patience of others, and therefore was not easily taken in by the servant's prodding. "Well I assure you that as far as I am aware none of the other masters have begun combat yet. I will be sending messages to all involved informing them that the final servant is summoned and that the Holy Grail War will now commence. Before I do though I'm sure Monsieur Mordaunt must have some questions for me regarding the contest and its regulations."
The servant was about to give a characteristically dismissive reply but stopped short at a raised hand from her master. "Fight at night. Only three command seals. Kill the other six masters. The Grail will appear. Simple." His voice was deep and confident, and though baleful and intimidating- it was at the same time disarming.
"I suppose when put that bluntly one could regard it as simple. Well then, I thank you for your time Monsieur Mordaunt and-?" The Abbe offered an outstretched hand to the callous servant.
"Assassin. A pleasure to make your acquaintance Monsieur l'Abbe. I've known my share of priests in my day. Some of them quite... intimately." She placed her outstretched fingers in his hand, angled for him to place a kiss on the back of hers, and with enough force to dig her pointed, black nails into his palm. Armand was not one to slight a lady, and though it brought him no amount of joy he placed a soft salute upon her flawless skin. "You are too kind Monsieur. Are we done here Master? I do believe we should leave the good Abbe in peace."
Mordaunt stood and quickly turned his back on Armand, his quick footsteps all the signal Assassin needed to assume spirit form and follow him invisibly. The door closed silently behind the foreboding duo, and though Armand Gautier considered himself an unshakable man he sighed with relief at their departure. Two individuals of such a sinister nature made a perfect pair, but that did not make them perfect company. The Abbe was happy to have regained his peace and was making ready to sit down and write the aforementioned letters, signaling the start of the Grail War proper, when the doors of the church were flung open dramatically and a new pair stepped into Armand's quiet sanctuary.