Chapitre 86: Skill Issue
Nicholas wandered into the room Jeanne D'Arc and Martha had taken over after getting permission from Olga and looked around curiously, "Y'all really went the extra mile, huh?"
There was a thick carpet covering the floor, a proper arranged lining of pews with a lectern at the head... The wood seemed expensive as hell.
Aside from that, the place was fairly minimalistic.
There were no painted or etched windows, no chandeliers or any of the expensive items like the local church in his hometown... which was surprising in retrospect, maybe this is what churches were supposed to be like?
To be honest, he didn't really know, or care for that matter.
To each their own, so long as they didn't try to force him to conform.
"Oh? Master! Welcome! I believe this is the first time you've visited." The Patron Saint of France lit up, hurrying up to him with a small smile on her face, "How have things been with Jalter?"
Paying respect to the setting, Jeanne was dressed casually in a white turtleneck sweater and a knee-length navy skirt.
Nicholas narrowed his eyes at the Saint before slumping down on one of the pews, "Pretty nice, if I'm getting it right. Does anybody actually come here?"
"Er... not particularly." Jeanne admitted, averting her gaze as she took a seat next to him, "But I'm happy to hear she's well... She doesn't seem to like talking to me."
"Think of it like a brat kid sibling." Nicholas just shrugged.
Half his servants were like kids, the other half were responsible but had their... moments.
All of them were messed up in one way or the other.
There were no normal people at Chaldea other than him, and maybe Mash.
Mostly because the Mashmallow was a subject of reverence and not someone to be insulted unless you wanted a certain pale haired Master to pay you a random visit in the corridors.
"Ahaha..." Jeanne scratched her cheeks, "That's what I've been thinking of it as."
And no, Jeanne wasn't normal neither.
The chick claimed God spoke to her.
"She's quick to anger but she's a good child. Why the other day I spotted her trying to sneak some food to miss Artoria." Jeanne spoke fondly of her alter ego, a happy smile on her lips, "On that, are you certain you won't let her inside?"
"...I forgot about that."
"But I was told that you are incapable of forgetfulness?" Jeanne tilted her head innocently, her large blue eyes boring holes into his bullshit.
"... I didn't get around to telling Olga to let her back inside."
"Very well, Master. I knew you to be kind of heart... even if a bit eccentric."
What was that last part?
"Eccentric?"
"That's right, eccentric. Normal people don't just punch anything they disagree with." The Saint scolded him like an older sibling, making the teenager recoil to the side and narrow his eyes at her.
He deadpanned, "You don't get to call nobody weird, you talk to God and made people go to war."
"O-Of course." Jeanne flinched, deflating ever so slightly, "Ah wait, I forgot! What brought you here today, Master?"
"I was curious."
"Ah, God led you here."
"No, boredom led me here. You lot lucky the Church don't exist no more." Nicholas chortled before clenching his fist in mild regret.
He wanted to try sending letters to the pope by the name of the Crimson Fucker.
Although, considering that the Holy Church and Mage's Association were at each other's throats in this world, that may or may not have prompted a modern crusade against heretics.
...Which, now that he thought about it, sounded like a lot of fun.
"Erm... I don't understand."
Nicholas closed his eyes and patted her head like she was a kid, "That's the way it should be, my child."
"Umm..." Jeanne looked from side to side nervously, unsure of how to proceed, "I-I really appreciate what you've done for my... sister?"
Awww.
"Course, it's my job."
The 'moment' was interrupted when the door to the room slid away to reveal Jalter with her mouth covered by a black bandana holding a, "This is a drive-by bitches! Your God is dead!"
"...Jesus."
Was that a molotov cocktail in her hand?
She snapped her fingers to set the cloth alight and tossed the bottle inside without looking before sprinting off.
Jeanne appeared a ways off and caught the bottle, putting out the fire with her bare hands.
Sighing, she turned to look at her Master with a defeated smile, "That's the second time today. As her husband, it's your god given duty to set her back on the correct path when she veers off it."
"What's wrong with drive-bys?"
The Saint's smile faltered, "N...Nothing if they're for the right cause but, we never attack places of worship. Even you should respect their sanctity."
"Gotcha." Nicholas chortled, jumping to his feet, "I'll talk to her. My Ma used to say we should respect everybody unless they haters... then they free game."
"Then you had a good mother." Jeanne watched him leave with a small smile, "I hope we can talk more."
"Sure."
-
"So why'd you throw a molotov at Jeanne?" Nicholas asked bluntly, jumping on the seat next to a silent Jalter.
She was eating chicken ramen for some reason, which didn't make sense considering her origins and avoiding his gaze... for some reason.
Nicholas shrugged around and looked around at the desolate cafeteria, "That's surprising."
There was almost always someone hanging around in this place, since servants needed no sustenance and mostly just idly indulged themselves with whatever caught their interest.
Seeing the girl still not answer his question, Nicholas did the best thing to do in the situation.
"W-W-What the hell are you doing?!"
He nuzzled into the soft fur lining her jacket's neck and unsurprisingly, she reacted verbally but made no effort to push him away. She just looked his way with a red face and faltering golden eyes.
Feeling particularly peckish, he spoke in the most blackest deepest voice he could possibly muster.
"Come over here and kiss me on my hot mouth, I'm feeling romantical."
"W-Wha?!"
Nicholas chortled at her reaction, "I was just kidd-"
She did it.
"I-I'm not letting Martha get ahead."
Withdrawing quickly, the Dragon Witch returned to her food, trying to appear nonchalant.
Only problem was, her body was shaking so much her pale blonde hair was trembling along with it and her face was burning.
Nicholas, who hadn't been expecting it, was momentarily stumped and touched his lips with a confused expression, "Well damn... I'm not gonna refuse it."
"I exist, people! I exist! Do you have to do this in front of me? I get it! You want to do it, but why do I have to watch it? Isn't being harassed daily enough? Now I have to watch you all fu-"
"Shut up, Emiya."
"S-Shut your fucking m-mouth, Archer!" Jalter threw her bowl at the designated cook.
"I'm not cooking again."
"Do your job, bum." Nicholas pointed out, lying against his goth baddie's shoulder, "Can't cook, can't fight, can't scout, can't take a joke... What are you even good for?"
The Archer class Counter Guardian held up a clenched fist, "It's not my fault you have so many specialised servants."
"You hear that, Jalter? Now what does that sound like?" Nicholas didn't even bother to look up, still nuzzled into the oddly comfortable fur.
"It sounds like skill issue." The self proclaimed Dragon Witch echoed her 'h-husband' with a big smile tugging at her lips.
"I'll fight you." Emiya spoke out with a deadpan.
"I'd take you up on that if...if..." Jalter glanced at the teenager next to her and sighed, "I'm sorry give us some food."
"...Somebody stab me, please. How come the guy who punches people gets people who're willing to calm down just so he's at peace while I get people who explode at me, me." Emiya complained about the unfairness of the world, pushed further and further to the brink by Chaldea's day-to-day activities.
"Shut up, Archer. You got not bit-... chicks."
The Counter Guardian crossed his arms and smirked, "Uh-huh. Sure I don't."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Emiya didn't answer, just continued smirking.
-
Hope you enjoyed the chapter.
Guys, you have to check out Fate/Inspired.
It has nearly 10k words to it already so you don't have to worry about me dropping it.
And I'm really enjoying writing it.
If not for me, do it for Tiamat.
Trust me bros.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone