章 13: La Pucelle (6)
Ritsuka had yet to decide on the nature of his newest Servant, Sieg, but there was no doubt that he was beginning to develop a certain level of curiosity. Granted, anyone could see just how different Sieg acted around Jeanne to the point that Romani speculated that the two may know each other from their legends. Of course, no data came regarding any historical figures with Sieg's name residing in France.
It truly was a mystery.
In any case, Ritsuka wasn't one to doubt in his Servants, and Sieg looked utterly certain that the direction he was leading everyone towards would lead everyone to the Dragon Slayer in this town.
Ritsuka decided to hold back his curiosity and trust in the intentions of his Servant who Jeanne and Mash were already following behind.
"The Dragon Slayer should be just over there in that building," Sieg said, pointing over to a dilapidated structure resembling what was once a fortress citadel of Lyon. Its stone foundations were cracked and charred black from the heat of a fire. The nearby vicinity, nothing more than ruins.
Jeanne nodded, striding forward while Ritsuka took a moment to catch his breath while supported by Mash.
"We need to hurry," Mash warned, lips pursed while her eyes darted left and right for signs of undead or wyverns. "This place isn't safe for Master."
"You'd be right, Mash," Romani's solemn tone sounded with a beep from Chaldea's transmission line. "Numerous hostiles have been detected around your vicinity. I'd like to be more accurate, but I'm doing all I can on my own since Da Vinci's hands are too busy monitoring things on the Director's end. Just be careful, and get out of there as soon as you can."
"Roger," Ritsuka replied while nudging Mash on his side and putting on a brave front for her sake. "I'll be fine. I need you to be there with the others to help them in case something happens."
Mash made to protest, but Ritsuka beat her too it with feigned vigour despite his exhaustion. "I'll be right behind you."
Mash's lips twitched in obvious discontent and worry that he was putting others before himself, but she nodded, strands of her hair brushing across her face that she then pushed behind her ear while running ahead.
With Mash no longer looking, Ritsuka allowed his fatigue from all his running to bleed through, yet he still managed to keep up with his will power.
Standing directly in front of the specified building, Jeanne sucked in a breath, took a stance with her legs, and smacked down with her flag pole, shattering the stone wall and creating a way in. Mash would have clapped in praise at any other time, but she was wary about creating any noise that could attract enemies, and caving in a wall wasn't the best idea in hindsight.
Mash tensed along with everyone else, and at the very least, Jeanne looked mortified at such a careless mistake.
"Sorry," Jeanne turned her attention to her feet when Mash began pouting at her, her cheeks flushed before she shook it off as it wasn't the time. Jeanne coughed into her hand. "Let's hurry," she said before trudging into the citadel.
"A Servant's energy has been detected from the scans, but its very weak," Romani signalled his report from a transmission. "Head left at that corridor, and there should be a room at the furthest end of a broken hall. It should be a dungeon or holding cell."
Everyone nodded at the instructions and moved ahead. Only Sieg lagged a bit behind as it wasn't required for him to lead the way anymore, yet Ritsuka noticed traces of apprehension or anxiety on Sieg's features.
Ritsuka didn't really know what to make of it, but it wasn't something he could dwell on, as the dungeon revealed a figure chained to the wall with iron hand cuffs and weighted anklets. Injuries and spots of dried blood could all be seen.
"You are?" The chained figure asked everyone with a grunt. However, his gaze was strangely focused on Sieg.
"We'll explain later, but we came to rescue you," Mash cut in anxiously while moving to the figure's side and shattering the chains attaching the figure to the wall with her strength as a Demi-Servant. "We have to leave quickly before too many enemies arrive."
The figure hummed in thought, shoulders slumped, almost apologetic, but saying nothing.
"You're a Dragon Slayer, right?" Jeanne asked hopefully in the meantime. At present, their side had no way to deal with the sheer might and magical power of Jeanne Alter's Dragon.
The figure's initial answer didn't disappoint.
"Indeed. I am the Slayer of the Black Dragon, Siegfried." The figure didn't deny the claim, and spoke with a regality that didn't befit his current state as a prisoner in a dungeon. "It's unfortunate, but I can't come with you all."
Mash froze, seconds after pulling off the last chain binding Siegfried to the wall. Jeanne was stunned while Ritsuka sucked in a breath after realization set in.
"Sorry, but you're all too late," the figure shook his head calmly and revealed the true extent of his injuries. "This is already the end for me."
Mash winced with a hiss, not that Ritsuka reacted any better.
Siegfried revealed a hole though his chest covered by his armour, and the fact that his Spirit Origin was damaged and leaking magical energy. Due to Saber Alter's attack and the loss of two Servants, Jeanne Alter and Caster Gilles would take no chances and dealt Siegfried a heavy hand. He was barely holding onto materialization as it was. Flecks of dried blood and dark bruising gave way to reveal his in-ideal state, but the man didn't show an ounce of pain.
Jeanne frowned and knelt by Siegfried's side, immediately attempting healing measures, but stumbling into another harrowing problem. Tendrils of green magical energy sizzled and repelled Jeanne's touch away, much to her dismay.
"He's cursed," Jeanne bit down on her lips.
Siegfried merely nodded, yet was somewhat surprised when Sieg approached. Wrapping Siegfried's arm around his shoulders, Sieg hoisted Siegfried up.
"Cursed or not, lets get out of here first," Sieg suggested, not daring to meet Siegfried's gaze despite knowing Siegfried was analysing him.
"Right," Ritsuka was quick to get on board. "There's no use to dwell on things here. Jeanne," Ritsuka pointed sheepishly at the nearby wall, prompting Jeanne to understand and subsequently break another wall down with her flag poll rather than use Mash's shield.
It would have taken too long to go back the way that they came from.
Jeanne and Mash ran ahead accompanied by Ritsuka, making sure to keep incoming hostiles at bay while Sieg supported Siegfried out of the dungeon. Siegfried was frowning, his gaze set into a hard line while Sieg just kept silent.
Taking one step at a time, Sieg was determined to save Siegfried despite how bleak that outlook was. Meanwhile, the person in question himself had come to a discovery.
"My heart beats within you," Siegfried muttered, not mincing his words and causing Sieg to stiffen. "Have we met? At the very least, I have no recollection of it in the memory of my life. If not, then to possess my heart, I must have given it myself on another summoning."
A wistful smile came over Sieg's features.
"My name is Sieg," Sieg introduced with a grunt, putting more force into his steps to get Siegfried that much faster out of danger. "You saved me once, and I have no real way to pay you back for what you did, but I won't watch and just let you die."
Siegfried said nothing for a moment, but his lips twitched upward. "Looking at you now, I feel as if the life you said I saved wasn't for nothing."
Siegfried put weight into his legs, craning his neck to stare up at Sieg in the eyes. He knew that there was a purpose in his summoning to this land; some higher power granting his existence here meaning and indeed he could feel the presence of his old nemesis. This made it all the more difficult for him to just let it go when he was needed, but now…
"I'll leave Fafnir to you," Siegfried said in all faith.
Sieg widened his eyes in alarm. "How can I-"
"You should know what I mean," Siegfried cut in. "The heart of Dragons beats within you, Caster."
Sieg shut his mouth, rampant thoughts reflected in the turbulence within his eyes.
"You lack confidence," Siegfried caught on quickly. "You don't believe you can harness such strength on your own, or that you can put it to full use. I too was once the same in my quest to fell the evil dragon. A hero? I was nothing more than a man terrified of what I would face. It was practically a miracle that I succeeded, but the trick is to keep walking forward."
Sieg made to respond, expression conflicted, doubtful even, but something else drew both his and Siegfried's attention away from the topic.
The French Army.
"AAAAH! Run!"
The both of them glanced up to see a pack of wyverns crashing into a unit of armoured soldiers, their teeth grabbing hold of heads and limbs before wrenching them off in spurts of red. Those fortunate to survive the attack of the wyverns were surrounded and getting picked off by undead mystics.
Jeanne appeared aghast and despondent, her eyes growing wet as she recognized the faces of soldiers that at least to her, she'd seen and laughed with less than a few days ago before her death.
Jeanne tried to help, driving the wyverns off while Mash pushed back the undead, but Jeanne was pelted by attacks from behind her, forcing her to repel thrown spears and sharp blades. A rock was able to get through her guard and graze the back of her head, a small welt forming, and yet she couldn't bring herself to retaliate.
"Witch! You killed my mother! Leave us alone!"
Comrades: Young Bastion, always talking about his family at home.
"You caused all of this and burned down my hometown!"
Friends: Brave Jules who'd took a stab wound for her.
"Haven't you done enough?!"
They were all staring at her with such hate and grief that it hit truer than any physical attack. She wilted, dying inside yet staying strong ever still. This was why she didn't want to meet anyone she knew in this era face to face.
Mash moved in to stop the soldiers and incapacitate them before things could get any worse, but she too was stopped.
"Wait, it's fine!" Jeanne yelled dispiritedly in hearing range of the French Army who looked incredulously at her. "Don't hurt them! They've been through enough pain!"
Mash used her shield to force back a group of soldiers and made her way to Jeanne's side. "We can't just let them keep attacking us either," she pursed her lips before glancing up at the sky then into the distance, pupils dilated. "There's also the wyverns and undead."
"Jeanne, Mash!" Ritsuka called out an order. "Get out of there."
"But the soldiers…" Jeanne made a stricken face, staring at all the remaining wyverns and undead.
"I know, but at the very least, find a place where you don't have to watch your backs!" Ritsuka advised with a grunt.
"There's no time," Mash felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. "They're coming again!"
Jeanne watched the descent of the wyverns from the sky and the undead in Lyon converging, no longer caring for the stones that pelted over her, or the weapons that were aimed to kill.
"Witch!"
"Heretic!"
"Ms. Jeanne!" Mash called in alarm at Jeanne's inaction.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Blood trickled down Jeanne's forehead, cuts and scrapes appearing over her armour which fortunately no weapon had been able to pierce through.
"Is this enough to satisfy your pain, my comrades?" Jeanne's lips quivered, yet no answer came in the stunned silence. Jeanne hardened her heart, an earnest plea and desire welling up from deep within her.
No matter the time. No matter the circumstances.
She held her banner aloft like numerous times before, putting strength in her arms where there was none, and showing no worry where there was plenty.
That form reflected in the holy light of energy emitted from her stalwart figure was one long since burned into the hearts of the French Army, bidding them to fight and keep faith against all odds.
I will wave this flag ever still.
'Our Saint.' 'Our pride.' 'Our hope.' 'Our joy.' 'Our courage.' 'Our symbol.'
La Pucelle.
For the comrades that stand behind me.
A sword clattered from afar, tears streaking down the face of Marshal Gilles, leader of the French army. His body collapsed to its knees, a sob wracking though his chest while a white barrier seemed to cover the whole of Lyon, pushing back the undead and wyverns alike.
Lord, grant them the mercy of your grace, your valour, your courage, and your kind heart.
Jeanne raised her flag up high, billowing upon the winds of her faith.
Protect them, your people. My comrades.
"Luminosité Eternelle."
A melody seemed to play, healing wounds and lifting spirits, and for a moment, nothing else seemed to exist except the light of the Saint and her Noble Phantasm warding away all harm.
"Its Jeanne. Its her. Our light."
"That Witch is a fake."
"W-We, what have we done?"
The unit of French Army soldiers all muttered in low whispers left unheard as Jeanne staggered from strain.
"Jeanne, we have to leave," Ritsuka warned, wincing at the drain of magical energy from his temporary contract with Jeanne. "You can't keep this up over such a large area for long."
Jeanne's Noble Phantasm was spread out across the entire town, the wyverns and undead beating at it relentlessly. This wasn't a solution, as it only served to delay. Jeanne's features fell in sadness when she thought of the soldiers behind her.
"But-"
"I have a few hours at most before my Spirit Origin completely shatters," Siegfried cut in, carried over by Sieg. "Beyond that time, I really won't be of much use to you all, but before then, let me do at least this much."
Siegfried analysed the situation while pushing himself off of Sieg and onto his own feet. His back was straight, his demeanor valiant in the face of his circumstances. "Wyverns are a subcategory of Dragons," a sword materialized in Siegfried's hands, Balmung. "My sword will bring forth their twilight. Leave the safety of this army to me, and go on."
Jeanne hesitated, mouth opening and closing as she tried to convince Siegfried to reconsider and see if they could do anything to help him recover at camp, but Siegfried could see just how much this army meant to Jeanne.
This in itself was enough. He smiled reassuringly.
Siegfried's hands gripped tightly onto his sword, a tower of magical energy piercing the clouds up high, and cancelling Jeanne's Noble Phantasm from within; the horde of wyverns and undead charging in.
To do something of his own accord for the sake of another was a wish he'd always kept dear.
This was of his own volition, his own wish as an ally of justice.
"Compassionate Saint of this land, please, leave the safety of your comrades to this unworthy hero," he persuaded one last time.
Jeanne was conflicted, but the resolve in Siegfried's eyes moved her. "You're a hero worthy of your legend. My gratitude," she bowed.
"We're just going to leave him?" Ritsuka sounded incredulous, but Mash soon placed a hand on his shoulder and shook her head.
"Mr. Siegfried has resolved himself. W-We shouldn't waste his efforts."
Ritsuka gritted his teeth, but he knew Mash was right and allowed her to carry him away to follow after Jeanne who couldn't bring herself to stay in the limelight of the French Army for much longer. In this way, she lost her chance to see the effect she'd just had on them.
Sieg was the last to trail after Ritsuka and the others, unwilling to leave Siegfried behind on his own.
"Go," Siegfried said. "This isn't your place to fall."
Sieg and Siegfried shared a look that only they seemed to understand before Sieg reluctantly relented and the hero of the Nibelungenlied bid everyone safe travels.
Siegfried turned his attention to the enemy, the last of his magic energy stored in his Spirit Origin funneling to the jewel of his sword for one final attack.
"Thank you," Sieg inclined his head in the direction of Lyon, and said nothing else as Balmung's light shone true and a storm of golden dust was all that was left in its wake.
-Siegfried of the Nibelungenlied. The bane of all Dragons.
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Winds blew upon idyllic plains, carrying with them the weariness of the day, and the hope of better tomorrows.
Life is fleeting in its limitations, and yet the valor, glory, and duty born from its cause are the foundations of history and tales of legends and myths. It's like a bright spark that shouts in the night a valiant 'I'm here,' heard throughout. For surely in life there is meaning even if that life started from the hands of a lowly Homunculus saved by the dedication of a hero.
Sieg balled his hands into fists, but said nothing on the way back to Archer's camp with everyone else.
A somber air had plagued them on the entire journey back, and Jeanne couldn't help but slump her shoulders. This wasn't the first time she'd had comrades sacrifice themselves for her sake, but this was different in that Siegfried had no obligation to accommodate her selfishness. She furrowed her brows, her teeth biting down on the inside of her lips.
The objective had been right in front of them, the key to defeat the pinnacle of Phantasmal Species in the enemy Jeanne's beck and call, and now that man was gone.
Yet, that man's sacrifice was exchanged for the safety of Marshal Gilles and the French Army.
Jeanne sighed, conflicted, and in this case, there was nothing that could be said to console her. It was just another weight to carry on her small shoulders.
"I take it you failed in your endeavors?"
A voice called out to them as they reached the forest underbrush at the peripherals of Archer's camp.
Archer hopped down from a tree and assessed the listless group with a grunt. His arms crossed in front of him, a frown on his face before he shook his head and softened his expression. Everyone looked tired. They'd worked hard.
"Don't take failure to heart." Archer chided more for their sake than his. They needed to get over this slump. "We'll just have to think of something else. You all can join up with the others. They're also back with some new faces."
"They succeeded?" Ritsuka asked hopeful.
Archer smirked. "I had low expectations of my newest Master, but all the confidence in her Servants. See for yourself."
The corner of Mash's lips twitched upward, fully imagining Olga's reaction if she heard Archer's assessment of her and drawing amusement from it. Did this make her a bad girl like Romani taught her not to be? She clapped her cheeks, earning a look from Ritsuka and embarrassment on her part.
"L-Let's go," Mash hurriedly picked up her pace, blushing all the way as Ritsuka followed.
Sieg and Jeanne joined the rest in a more sedate pace, each stewing in their own thoughts.
The sight the group would walk into was a lively one near the outskirts of the camp. As most of the camp was dedicated to treating injured soldiers and citizens of France, it was only natural that Olga and her party were forced to idle outside due to space limitations and noise. A lot of noise.
Olga seemed kind of out of it while seated on a log from a toppled tree, her gaze on Sasaki not quite how it used to be, but this was largely offset by the annoyed scowl on her face as she plugged her ears with her hands.
"One-two! One-Two! Testing! Your idol is here- you idiot this is my time to shine! Give it back!"
This was the reason they were kicked out of camp by Archer.
Right before everyone's eyes, a pair of young women squabbled over a microphone that no had a clue where it came from. One was dressed in a dark frilled skirt and held a pointed lance with one hand while the other was in a flowery kimono and holding a fan tinged with the heat of flames.
"Give it back, you skank!"
"No!"
A mess of flowing red and mint coloured hair belonging to each woman respectively was pulled by the roots, earning screams of outrage from both before they fell on each other.
Ritsuka had no words for what he was seeing, and frankly, Jeanne was considering whether she should try to settle both women down. However, it was then that a helpful explanation came in the form of Sasaki who made his way over.
"We found them bickering in the ruins of a town with Rider trying to mediate to no result. The Lancer is Elizabeth Bathory, and the Berserker is Kiyohime." Sasaki elaborated for the sake of Ritsuka, Mash, Jeanne, and Sieg.
In the background, Elizabeth and Kiyohime were pulling at each other's cheeks now, rolling over the ground and trying to pin the other down so as to snatch the mic back from each other.
Nearby, the Rider in question, St. George shook his head helplessly.
George wore a dragonesque plated armour with a white billowing cape on his shoulders. His features were squared and chiseled, his neck length brown hair, blowing behind his back, but he seemed defeated at the moment.
Mash sweat dropped while Sasaki appeared entirely accustomed to the havoc.
"H-How did you convince them to help us?" Mash stuttered out.
Sasaki shrugged, turning to face Olga who stiffened and turned to face a grinning Spartacus.
Everyone shivered, even Elizabeth and Kiyohime pausing in their scuffle while Olga hugged herself with her arms, clearly traumatized. "S-So much meaty flesh…So much love."
Her eyes turned hollow, her complexion pale beyond measure.
Sasaki coughed awkwardly, and pretended not to notice anything. Even he had developed a healthy dose of respect for how overpowering Spartacus could be in prolonged battle.
"There was a fight, and Spartacus somehow ended up stopping everything with his Noble Phantasm and some...enthusiasm," Sasaki didn't explain further, and just left it there. He paused, assessing Ritsuka, Mash, Sieg, and Jeanne and coming to his own conclusions. "I take it things didn't go so well on your end?"
Ritsuka's group visibly wilted, and this was enough of an answer. The solemnity in the air was enough to cause Elizabeth and Kiyohime to realize there were new people around and to forget about the mic.
Neither Elizabeth or Kiyohime had formed contracts with Olga, so seeing Ritsuka had their immediate attention. Considering that Da Vinci had already filled them in on the situation in Orleans, they'd already agreed to help, so what mattered now was just finding a suitable Master.
Mash perked up, a feeling of wariness causing her to get between Ritsuka and the new Servants while gripping onto the handle of her shield.
Kiyohime and Elizabeth both raced for introductions, Kiyohime's gaze focusing intently on Ritsuka, but Spartacus appeared behind them both, grinning from ear to ear, and not saying much else.
The two girls froze meekly, and backed away almost like one would flee from something disgusting.
Mash sighed in relief while Ritsuka just blinked in confusion.
Inevitably though, Kiyohime and Elizabeth would catch Mash off guard and pounce on Ritsuka to form their temporary contracts. With their presence around, the camp's atmosphere grew more and more lively, but this wasn't the case for everyone.
Sieg had drawn in on himself and was brooding over Siegfried's departing words to him, while Jeanne dwelled over the current state of her country and the sacrifices of her comrades.
Soon enough, day would turn into night, carrying with it the revelation of a new development.
Later that evening, a rustle in the bushes by the camp alerted all to the presence of an enemy that was making it blatantly clear that he or she wasn't trying to hide.
"The readings indicate it's a Servant. Be on your guard, you all," Da Vinci advised while the echoing of keys clicking echoed through the transmission. "The reading's coming from down south."
Everyone stood at the ready, all staring towards the specified direction.
Olga stood tall, Ritsuka beside her while their Servants secured the safety of the Masters.
A chilling night air blew across their faces, the flames of the camp fire they all sat around flickering and crackling, embers drifting up into a dancing storm.
"Pardon the intrusion," a candid and polite reply came from the mouth of a beautiful lavender haired woman holding a crossed-tipped staff.
Her eyes were of the deepest blue, suffused with passion, warmth, and kindness that no Curse of Madness could hope to taint.
The woman's hair stretched down to her waist overtop her short blue cloak draped over her shoulders and connected to a red collar. She wore a one-piece: A white, low cut dress with red trimmings, with wide sleeves and an interior grey colour with rose-vine patterns. The dress had a trim-like section down the middle all the way down to her navel, exposing parts of her fair skin.
The skirt the woman wore was split in two parts with a belt securing the fabric down to flow freely to her ankles covered by blue stockings that reached to her thighs. A set of golden and green coloured gauntlets covered her forearms, while high-heeled sandals adorned her feet.
She was regal and exuded an air of righteous faith and devotion.
"My name is Martha, and I have come guided by my Lord's light. Well, I say that, but his voice has not reached me in this era," Martha blushed before coughing into her hands, her rounded face making the look quite charming. In any case, she assumed a more serious air.
"Martha, as in St. Martha?" St. George spoke up from near Olga's side, his new temporary Master.
Jeanne's continence brightened at the presence of another fellow Servant regarded as a Saint.
"Uhm, yes. That would be me," Martha revealed no hint of arrogance, but instead reluctance. "Unfortunately, we find ourselves on opposite sides. Grudging as it may be, I am compelled to follow through on my Master's orders to kill you, and being a Berserker doesn't help the impulse much."
Tension rose immediately from Martha's statement, the air growing charged with Martha's growing magical energy. "At the very least, I wanted to come and see for myself the visage of France's Saint, and to beckon you not to give up."
Jeanne couldn't meet Martha's encouraging gaze because doubts still lingered within her.
Martha didn't call Jeanne out on anything. Instead, she addressed everyone else. "If you all can't defeat me, then you have no chance against my Master in Orleans."
Left unsaid, but the likelihood of Martha winning against all of Ritsuka and Olga's Servants combined was impossible. Martha would obviously understand this, and yet she'd come anyway. Were her intentions not clear enough?
She couldn't bring herself to fight knowing the oppression and evils her Master was causing to France. This is where France's Saint comes in.
'If its you, then you must put a stop to this tragedy,' Martha had long since resolved herself.
Waving her staff, Martha prepared herself for combat.
"Must we fight?" George frowned while raising up his blade.
"We shouldn't fight if we can help it!" Ritsuka voiced his agreement while Olga focused on Martha for any sudden movements.
"You speak as if we can cooperate. I am bound by contract, and empowered by a curse," Martha frowned before faltering.
"That makes things easier since you have a Master."
When did he-!
A blur of red abruptly encompassed all of Martha's vision, accompanied by the sight of a twisted dagger stabbing into her side and releasing an outpour of energy born of severance.
"I don't deal in ifs," Archer grunted while dislodging the twisted dagger from Martha's side and standing smugly.
"T-That dagger?" Olga couldn't but stutter as she realized what just happened. "Y-You broke her contract like it was nothing!"
Romani and Da Vinci monitoring the situation from Chaldea's Command Room were just as stunned, but not as much as Jeanne Alter and Gilles Caster in Orleans.
"A secret trump card." Archer casually dismissed it and regarded Martha. "Now then, how does freedom feel, Saint?"
"Eh?" Martha stood frozen for the longest time, utterly bewildered. "You but that's-"
"Amazing," Mash had stars in her eyes.
"I'd say cheating," Olga interjected, but there was a distinct layer of pride in her tone when she considered that she was Archer's temporary Master. "And Emiya can- I mean could create that dagger too?"
The utterance of that name suddenly left Olga, Mash, and Ritsuka downtrodden at the reminder of their fellow Master's parting. In comparison, Martha perked up almost fondly. This didn't go unnoticed by Archer who was right next to Martha. He had a sinking gut feeling, yet his lips couldn't help but twitch upwards.
It's either he has the Devil's luck, or he's favoured by Heaven.
Archer chose not to call Martha out just yet, as Martha herself looked quite eager to assuage the somber mood.
"This Emiya you speak of," Martha began slowly. "Perchance, do you mean a human Master with red hair and can cook really well?"
Silence.
Olga craned her neck up stiffly to stare up at Martha, followed by Mash and Ritsuka who had a twinkle forming in their eyes from growing realization.
"Did he have a shirt that looked like Ritsuka's? I don't know about the cooking, but he can be an idiot at times," Olga listed things one by one, and although Martha was doubtful at some of the descriptions, she still nodded her head, leading all to the same conclusion.
"Emiya-Senpai's alive!" Mash's features brightened significantly.
"I see. I wouldn't put it past this version of myself to lie so blatantly to you all," Jeanne knit her brows in consternation, yet Martha was the one who looked troubled.
"You all shouldn't be too hard on that woman," Martha interjected softly, moving to sit by the campfire by everyone's side rather than standing awkwardly with Archer.
Mixed opinions came from Martha's response, but she was adamant. At first, Martha believed that Jeanne Alter was truly evil, but in the past few weeks in the castle at Orleans, she'd noticed changes in Jeanne Alter's behaviour.
She smiled when no one else was watching.
She showed joy while dragging a cauldron of cooked food.
She was less snappy and irritable, and more importantly; the time she was spending in the dungeon with her 'prisoner' left her with less and less blinding rage, replaced instead with doubt and indecision.
There was light within her, just buried too deeply by a burning hatred that was gradually being excavated.
Martha wet her lips and didn't know how to voice her true thoughts out, but tried anyway out of virtue and goodwill. "I don't know how to best put it, but if I were to describe my former Master, she would be a lost sheep, misguided and resentful." Martha stared at Jeanne. "It may be simple to just label one as a fake and the other real, but to me, at your base, the both of you are the same. It just feels as if something was mixed in-between, almost like sisters who took two different roads."
"Sisters," Jeanne mumbled out, far from convinced, yet unwilling to disregard the wisdom of a Saint like Martha.
The rest wore varying levels of skepticism, but felt more troubled than anything else.
"I won't force you all to take it easy on her or judge her any less, but please just keep it in mind," Martha scratched the back of her head sheepishly. "I'll agree to fight with you all in the meantime, and I have plenty of information to share."
Archer hummed in thought before nodding, paying rapt attention like everyone else when Martha began speaking of Orleans' current layout, the number of Servants under Jeanne Alter's control, and the damage Saber Alter had already done before being forced to retreat.
"If you're looking for your friend, he's in the dungeon Jeanne Alter frequents at the bottom of the castle."
This piece of information was one that Olga and Ritsuka took to heart while Archer gauged the strength of the enemy forces with his mind's eye.
Archer straightened his back and soon addressed everyone. "We'll split up into two groups," he began. "Olga and her Servants along with Martha as a guide will rescue my younger self, and Ritsuka's team will either distract or defeat Jeanne Alter in the meantime along with Rider. I know, this asking a lot when up against a True Dragon, but Ritsuka, please hold on for as long as you can."
"…" Ritsuka gulped before nodding in the affirmative.
"Leave it to us," Mash clenched her hands into a fist pump.
George nodded in understanding while Sieg and Jeanne resolved themselves for what was to come.
However, one person wasn't quite satisfied with developments.
"Shouldn't you ask for your Master's opinion?" Who made you the leader? Olga's brow twitched while glaring at Archer.
"Do you have a better plan?" Archer's face was neutral and carefree, but Olga couldn't help but feel as if he was being smug with her as if knowing that she didn't have a better plan.
She flushed red in embarrassment up to the ears, her cheeks colouring as she quickly shut her mouth and turned away.
"We'll do what my Servant has already said," she mumbled almost incoherently, but no one seemed to be paying her much attention.
Everyone had a lot to dwell over after all.
The march to Orleans would begin at dawn.
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The following days passed in a blur of indecision and resolve as the capital of Orleans came within view.
Archer stood at the front, surveying Jeanne Alter's forces before frowning heavily, followed by everyone else.
The flapping of leather wings was deafening in their intensity, horned shadows blotting out the sky at the heart of France's singularity where the looming figure of a Black Dragon glided over all. On the ground, red wyverns patrolled, feasting on morsels of meat and growling lowly at any that dared approach.
A Hundred Years War of the Evil Dragon.
Seated above the Black Dragon's head was Jeanne Alter surveying the distance overlooking the hills and plains.
Archer motioned for everyone to keep still lest they be seen or detected, but the sheer number of wyverns was mind boggling. Nowhere before had he or anyone else ever seen this many gathered in one place.
"This is my fault," Martha suddenly apologized. "My former Master won't risk sending out any more Servants while knowing that we have some way of wrenching control away from her."
"So instead, she amasses an army of wyverns," George readied his prided blade, Ascalon, a sword that slays dragons. "This is going to be harder than we expected, but we must keep heart."
Archer scowled while sending a glance Ritsuka's way and feeling a sense of guilt. No matter how he saw it, asking him to hold this number of enemies back by himself was practically impossible.
"Should we stick to the plan?" Jeanne asked in concern.
No one replied.
Even Elizabeth and Kiyohime were frowning.
Archer shut his eyes. He couldn't use his trump cards here while the real enemy hid in the shadows, but there didn't seem to be much of a choice given the circumstances.
"Let's do it," Jeanne suddenly spoke up. "If its me, then my other self will surely come personally to confront me rather than send in wyverns. I can distract her at least while you guys sneak over to rescue your friend."
"We'll die, you know?" Elizabeth craned her chin up while making a face. Jeanne smiled wryly, causing Elizabeth to turn away. "Alright fine then, I'll also do my best to keep the Master and the piggies safe."
"I'll just do what my Master wants," Kiyohime latched onto Ritsuka's arm much to Mash's inner chagrin.
"I too will do my part," George nodded towards Archer and Olga who didn't relent.
"No. Abort the mission," Olga cut in sternly, startling Ritsuka who looked up at her. "I can't willingly put a valuable member of Chaldea on a suicide mission. We'll have to think of something else."
"There is nothing else," Archer sighed while gesturing to everyone. "This is all we got unless you want to include the French soldiers and the army."
"Then I'll go on my own," Jeanne swallowed and proposed. "Ritsuka won't be in danger, and like I said, I'll surely be able to attract my other self's attention."
No. You can't!
Sieg's eyes dilated in the ensuing silence of Jeanne's words. This meant it was actually being considered. It really was a viable solution though, granted it meant Jeanne's sacrifice.
No. This was precisely why Sieg couldn't accept it. He couldn't allow this, and for what?
What reason was he hesitating?
Wouldn't this matter be solved if he could put his heart where his desire was and will himself forth? If not for himself, then for the sake of Jeanne like he'd done once before.
If he failed to act now, then Jeanne would die.
Sieg you coward. Enough brooding! Her life is going to be put in danger!
"No, we'll stick with the old plan," Sieg forced the words out, ignoring the warning look Olga sent him.
Jeanne stared at Sieg in a daze, the intensity of his eyes and the depth of his emotions triggering a response from deep within her. As a Heroic Spirit, she was nothing more than a copy of herself in the throne, and yet there was a linking factor involved.
A yearning for a miracle. A wish of reunion once thought to be impossible.
Jeanne pursed her lips, but Sieg saw none of this as he regarded Jeanne.
Your strength is your compassion.
He thought of the memories of Apocrypha, an unrecorded script of a story untold. The memories he held hallowed within him, that defined him; the experiences, joys, and yearning converged into one motivation.
I will open the way.
If it was for her sake, then he could cast aside doubt and reservation and strive toward the task Siegfried had asked of him.
He lacked the confidence; the will to believe in his own strength, yet one's faith in him never once wavered despite their short time together.
"The heart of Dragons beats within you."
Yes. Those words meant more to his current mentality than anything else.
"Master," he called out sternly. "Permission to deploy Noble Phantasm."
Ritsuka blanked for a moment, but there was something in Sieg's demeanor that told him to trust and believe.
"Granted."
Sieg sucked in a breath. Permission was given. The time to act was now.
"Sieg, that's a Dragon and an army of wyverns," Jeanne tried to protest, ignoring the irony that she herself was ready to face them alone. "No single Servant can bring one down without Anti-Dragon properties or weapons."
Sieg shook his head. Even so, his job was only one.
"I will bring them down, so the rest of you wait for my signal."
Sieg began running forward, grabbing Jeanne's hand and taking her with him as swaths of thick azure magical energy exuded from his form like a torch in the night.
"Seig-" Jeanne called out only to be interrupted.
"Trust me." Sieg gave a strained smile, trying to exude a confidence that wasn't fooling anyone. "I will let you fight the other Jeanne on level ground."
Tentatively, Jeanne shut her mouth and said nothing more.
The two of them bolted out of the forest and into the beaten dirt road to Orleans in full view of Jeanne Alter, the Black Dragon, and the wyverns.
Roars echoed followed by fierce winds, flames, and murderous intent.
From the grip Seig had on Jeanne, she could feel his hand trembling, yet he showed not an ounce of the trepidation he was feeling and boldly continued onward.
"Noble Phantasm: Deploying."
The words were uttered, the sequence giving light to a convergence of pulsating magical energy that rapidly spread outward. Dirt and debris lifted from the ground and were violently hurled away from an onset of pressure from a higher form of existence.
Draconic Might.
"Commence transformation: A pilgrimage to the beyond!"
A guttural roar echoed out in a storm of blinding azure energy, towering reptilian wings unfurling from the ether. The sound of the roar grew deeper and deeper until slitted eyes opened in a confluent storm of power.
Its teeth were swords.
A gigantic scaled body emerged.
Its claws, reapers of death and ruin.
Gales of wind and unrelenting pressure forced the wyverns in the air to bow.
Its wings a hurricane.
"I am the Evil Dragon that flies away holding the Grail of Heaven!"
Jeanne felt her perception of the world change, as everything that was once large became increasingly small.
She was flying upon the head of a Black Dragon equal in size and aura to Jeanne Alter's.
"Disintegrate all!" Sieg reared the neck of his Draconic form back, his chest swelling as his gathered magical energy took the form of a breath seeping from an open maw.
"Ákafiloga All-gríð!"
The heavens burned.
/-/
-Meanwhile.
"Aaaah" Olga pointed inaudibly, but got no reaction only to do so again. "Aaaaaghh!" She pointed, words fleeing her as she gesticulated with twitching brows as if confounded that no else was feeling like she was feeling.
"It's a Dragon, yes. I've had women much worse."
Olga kicked Archer in the shin but only ended up nursing her own toes with tears in her eyes.
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