-Micheals PoV-
Micheal opened his eyes as soon as he fell asleep and looked around where he was. He was standing on the side of a cobblestone road in the middle of a massive crowd of people who all seemed to be waiting for something given the anticipation in the air. He reached out to touch someone on the shoulder and his eyes widened as his hand passed right through them. He stared at his hand and then looked himself over. Narrowing his eyes he tried to tap another person standing next to him on the shoulder with a finger only for his finger to slip through their clothes and into the shoulder.
"Okay….so I'm not dreamwalking….where the fuck am-"
Trumpets blared from somewhere to his left and the anticipation in the air ratcheted up several notches causing the air to almost vibrate. He began to walk through the crowd to the front of it and saw that the opposite side of the road was lined with people as well. He frowned seeing how everyone was dressed then he looked up at the houses and saw that most of them had thatched roofs. He walked out into the road to see where the trumpets were coming from when he heard yelling behind him. He turned around and saw a contingent of soldiers all bearing a truly ancient French coat of arms. He stepped to the side as they walked past and felt his stomach drop through his feet as he saw who was chained up inbetween all of them,
"….Jeanne...Alter?" He muttered as she walked past him. Her arms were held together in front of her in solid iron cuffs while her ankles had barely enough chain between the cuffs to allow her to walk. She was wearing what could be affectionately called a threadbare sack as she strode forward head held high. Micheal felt his stomach grow heavier as he realized what was going on right as Jeanne was pelted with a rock. She stumbled as it hit her head and she was yanked back upright by the chains holding her hands together. He watched as blood flowed down her face into one of her eyes forcing her to hold it closed but she still held her head high as the knights parted a bit so more people could throw objects at her.
Micheal tried to shield her but everything passed through him and struck her instead. He watched, helpless, as she was half led, half dragged to a massive square in the middle of which stood a lone wooden pyre.
"No….no, no, no…..She- This isn't right…" Micheal said as Jeanne was led forward to slowly walk to her death. He tried firing magic, he tried everything he could to free her, but his circuits never activated. He watched as she was tied to the wooden stake and her sentence was read out. The priest closed his book and nodded to one of the men nearby who struck a torch. Micheal frantically climbed the pyre to try and grab the bindings holding Jeanne in place. He had never felt more useless than he did now. Eventually he was in front of her yelling at her to do something, anything, to free herself but she looked right through him, resigned acceptance on her face as she watched the soldier come forward and bend down to ignite the kindling.
As the flames licked higher for the first time Jeanne showed a hint of fear. Micheal wrapped his arms around her. He knew she couldn't feel it. He knew he couldn't stop it but…even if it was to make himself feel better he wanted to provide some comfort. The flames began to lick the undersides of the platform and Jeanne sighed, leaning her head back to stare at the sky. Micheal stared back into her golden eyes as she stared through him eventually closing them as the platform ignited under them
and she screamed.
######
Micheal groaned and rolled over in his bed, his servants screams still echoing through his head, as he tried to suppress the bile that shot up his throat. Realizing he wasn't going to succeed he quickly ran to the bathroom and emptied his stomach into the toilet. Everytime he thought he was done he heard her screams again and felt more bile shoot up his throat. After his stomach was completely empty and he had been dry heaving for several minutes he finally managed to drive the sounds of what he had heard out of his head.
Micheal cracked open his eyes properly as he laid his forehead on the cool porcelain and thought seriously about what he had seen. It wasn't dreamwalking and yet...it was wrong. He knew that's not how she died. She had died smiling up at him….which meant….
"...Did I see one of her dreams?" Micheal muttered to himself as the implications of what he saw hit him. He lifted his head off of the porcelain and stared at his right hand not even remotely surprised to see it was shaking. Whether that was from the exhaustion of having vomited for the past however long or what he had seen he wasn't sure. He clenched his hand into a fist to stop the shaking as he took several slow and deep breaths to calm himself down. He wanted to ask her about it but remember how she had reacted to him reaching across their connection when he had first summoned her a week ago and shook his head.
"If she knows I'm able to see into her dreams that would be an even worse invasion of privacy….wait. Since I saw-" Micheals eyes widened as it hit him, "Is she awake right now?" He was half tempted to go check on her but again he remembered how she had reacted before causing his determination to waver. Several minutes later he had come to a decision. He wouldn't ask her about her dreams until he felt they had built enough of a report that he felt like he could broach the subject. He staggered out of the bathroom and glanced at his bedside clock swearing under his breath seeing it was two in the morning. As much as he needed the sleep...the last thing he wanted to see was something worse than what he had just woken up from. Shaking his head he decided he'd kill a few hours until 6am by just doing a workout to clear his head. He got dressed and quietly left his room unsure of where Jeanne was. He padded downstairs, slipped on his running shoes, and left through the back door unaware of two golden eyes watching him from a window as he started running the first of many laps around the fields.
-Several Weeks later-
-Jeannes PoV-
Jeanne stared at the plate in front of her not sure what she was looking at. She glanced up at her Master to see him eating it which told her it was edible at least. She picked up a fork and poked it watching it jiggle on the plate in response. She looked back at Micheal and sighed putting down her fork and crossing her arms to glare at him
"I thought you said you had dessert. Which implies food. Not whatever this….crap is."
She had been living in the Lafaire mansion with Micheal for the past month and a half. During that time she had gotten a good handle on what Micheals mana felt like so that the previous incident didn't happen again. On top of that they had done a few training sessions together and she'd gotten a good idea of what Micheal could do to support her. While he could fight at close quarters his fighting style was about speed and precision using his eyes in combination with his mystic code to fire precise shots into the weakpoints of his enemies. They had even sparred a bit just to feel out how the other would fare if they had to fight and Jeanne had gotten annoyed on more than one occasion at how damn fast her master was. Between his eyes, that damn response field causing him to react near instantly, and his own absurd mana it meant that he was the worst kind of opponent for her. She excelled at point blank destruction. Getting into the enemies face and fighting them.
Which meant that she had had to learn how to fight someone who was constantly moving, could see several seconds into the future, and liked to take pot shots at her any chance he could. She idly poked the 'food' on her plate as she then thought about the dreams about his past she'd been seeing. Mages are ruthless even to their own family to say nothing of their enemies but in Micheals memories she had seen….a family that loved each other. Seeing his mother in his dreams threw her for a loop as well since the woman looks like her Ruler self but with her own shoulder length hairstyle.
...But seeing the care and love that Micheal had gotten from the moment he woke up from that coma. The patience, the happiness, and….the peace.
It made her more than a little jealous but more than that during the dreams she found herself occasionally wondering what it would be like to be surrounded by people who cared about her like that.
She got out of her thoughts in time to see Micheal finish his pudding and then look at her for a few seconds before speaking,
"...right 15th century. Its pudding. Specifically Japanese pudding."
"That explains less than nothing."
Jeanne turned her glare down at this 'pudding' and briefly wondered what would happen if she set it on fire. Before she could do anything ringing started from out in the hall causing Micheal to groan. He apologized, wiped his mouth on a napkin, and left the kitchen leaving Jeanne alone. Jeanne looked over at Micheals empty plate and saw that he had eaten all of it so clearly it was good,
"Or its some mage super food that means you don't have to eat for two weeks…" Jeanne muttered to herself as she poked the pudding again with her fork making it bounce back and forth. She sighed and decided to just go for it as she stuck her fork into it and watched transfixed as the fork cut right through it. Deciding not to think about it she sliced off a small piece and stuck it on the end of her fork as she stared at it. Tempering her nerves she stuck it in her mouth and her eyes widened at the sweetness and texture of it. She looked back down at what was left as she ate the small piece.
"...Its good." She muttered as she sliced off another piece, "He said this was 'Japanese pudding' right? I wonder if he made it himself…" Jeanne continued eating until her plate was clean and she gave the plate her masters food had been on a look before shaking her head and leaving the kitchen. While she had enjoyed the pudding she still didn't know what to think of her master. He treated her like a person which on its own was weird since Servants are glorified familiars but for her….
"I've never had anyone care about me from the moment I was created…. So why is it that after I die someone finally does. I know at the end of all this I'll just be sent back to the throne so….why go through all the trouble."
She shook her head and decided to just not think about any of that. She was there to win the Holy Grail, wish to not exist, and then maybe finally she'll find some form of peace. She thought about going back to her room to try and figure out more about the metal chicken when she heard Micheal moving quickly through the house causing her to pay attention to where he was going,
"He's going...to the main hall? Is it an enemy?"
Jeanne extended her senses to detect mana and noticed something...odd around where the entrance hall was. It was like two mana signatures in a single person. She began to walk in the direction of the main hall when she felt the mana of both Micheals and the dual mana signature flare. She broke into a sprint and ran through the house as she got closer both flares of mana died off and she heard laughter. She slowed down and stopped just behind a corner to listen in,
"….et back Desmond? I thought you were back in Fuyuki preparing the house?"
A deeper voice than Micheals answered back but as soon as Jeanne heard it she felt a shiver run down her spine upon hearing it causing her to stop behind a corner just outside the entrance hall,
Am I...afraid?
She held out her hand and narrowed her eyes at the slight shaking of her hand which made the armor on her arm rattle softly. She clenched her fist to stop the shaking and continued to listen in,
"I needed to come back to get some of the things we use to power the wards for the mansion for the house. One of the families in Fuyuki uses gemcraft magic as well so I'll need to upgrade and refine the wards for the house so that they can't be studied and brought down. ….If you're done hiding behind the corner then come out."
Jeanne stiffened and after a few seconds stepped out from behind the corner. She saw Micheal looking anxiously between her and who she could only assume was Desmond. She narrowed her eyes at the man as she felt that dual mana signature again.
"...What class are you?" Desmond asked as he adjusted his suit cuff.
"Lancer." Jeanne replied icily,
"Hmmm…" Desmond folded his hands behind his back and continued to stare at Jeanne who stared right back, "….And yet something is off about that."
Jeanne's fighting instincts kicked in out of nowhere and she reflexively summoned her sword in her left hand and hellfire in her right as she assumed a fighting stance. She felt sweat trickle down her back as she felt as though someone was holding a knife against her throat. She knew that if she moved she would die. She could barely swallow without feeling the edge of the blade. She watched as Desmond turned to Micheal who was as pale as a sheet
"A 'Lancer' hmm? Why is she holding a ball of fire and a sword then instead of a lance?"
Micheal opened his mouth to answer right as the knife 'vanished' from Jeannes throat. She staggered a bit and breathed ragged gasps of air as she realized that she hadn't been breathing that entire time.
Micheal started to speak only for the man to glare at him and cut him off, "I understand she is your servant Micheal Lafaire and you need to keep their true name secret but I will not have a potential threat living under the same roof as the family I live to serve. It is already suspect that her go to weapons are a sword and fire yet she declared herself a 'Lancer'."
Desmond turned his head back to stare at Jeanne who felt like she was staring down some kind of predator. Suddenly the man vanished into thin air and then she felt a hand grab her on the upper part of her gauntleted arm as she was pulled away while Micheal shouted after them. Jeanne felt the urge to try and break free of the Desmonds grip but a single tightening of his hand convinced her that she'd lose her arm trying. Eventually she was led out the backdoor, through the garden, and into the fields behind the mansion. After they went some ways away from the mansion the man let go of her arm and she quickly dashed away summoning her weapons again and leveling her sword at the man who just looked at her critically,
"What are you. You're not human." Jeanne spat as she kindled her flames preparing to fight. The man closed his eyes and sighed before moving away and silently motioning her to follow him. When she didn't he looked over his shoulder,
"Either you follow me and let me explain or I kill you. You already know that I can."
Jeanne glared at him as he faced forward and continued walking away. She glanced back at the mansion, briefly tempted to reach out to Michel through their master servant connection but reconsidered. Silently she turned and followed the man into the fields of wheat. Jeanne maintained distance between herself and the man as they walked in seemingly no direction for what felt like an hour. Eventually the man reached the edge of the field and turned to look at her. She straightened her posture and walked up next to him as he gestured where he was looking. Jeanne turned her head and saw 6 crosses arranged in a triangle in the dirt. She looked from graves to the man and back not understanding.
"All it takes is one hit to a servants spirit core and they fall apart...turning back into mana and leaving nothing behind but memories of them in the master they served."
The man said quietly walking forward and reaching into his jacket to pull out a small container. He fiddled with it and tipped it over pouring a rich brown liquid over each cross. Jeanne stayed silent and waited for the man to continue.
"What I am about to tell and show you does not leave this spot. Am I understood?"
Jeanne narrowed her eyes as the man finished pouring drinks for the departed and looked at her with a look she couldn't figure out. She crossed her arms and glared at him
"As long as what you tell me doesn't put my master, myself, or our chances for the grail at risk….I am willing to listen."
The man nodded and tapped his heel into the ground causing two small blocks of stone to rise and form seats. He sat down on one and drank some of what was in the flask as Jeanne sat down opposite of him and crossed her legs.
"What is your true name and real class. Don't try to trick me."
Jeanne noticed it wasn't a question so much as an order and felt her hackles rise,
"My name is my own and my class is lancer."
"Because you stink of an Avenger to me."
Jeanne froze and looked at the man as he took another sip and closed the lid to his flask before sliding it back into his jacket. He leaned forward and interlaced his fingers as he stared at her,
"You reek of flames and hatred. Whatever spawned you must have been close to the devil himself. So let me ask you again, Servant. What is your true name and class."
"….Jeanne D'Arc Alter. Avenger class servant," Jeanne said quietly as she stared into the dirt between them, "and… you're not far off in where I came from."
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you right now."
Jeanne looked up and into the mans eyes as she narrowed her own
"Shouldn't you give your own name as well? Since you're not entirely human yourself?"
The man chuckled darkly and for a split second Jeanne swore she saw a man with pince-nez, a red eastern suit, and a black coat with a fur collar draped across his shoulders sitting opposite her. She blinked and the butler was back in place looking at her as he gripped his wrist tightly and took a deep breath.
"Been a while since anyone figured me out….Only Amelia knows…." he muttered as his gaze never left her own, "My name is Desmond Lykard. Former United States Marine and survivor of the 3rd Holy Grail War. Forgive me if I seemed a bit violent just now. Whats left of my servant wants to me to fight you to the death."
Jeannes eyes went wide and her mind reeled with a million questions but one realization topped any question she might have had,
"You….you merged with your servant. That's why you have two mana signatures."
The man grunted and let go of his wrist which was bruised a dark purple. He tugged his sleeve over it and relaced his fingers,
"We're not talking about me. We're talking about you. Now let me ask you again: Why shouldn't I kill you right now given you're an avenger class servant."
Jeanne bit her lip and turned her gaze into the middle distance as she tried to figure out how best to answer that. As her mind whirled she briefly felt Micheal's presence through their connection. In the brief time he was there he left a feeling of concern but also...confidence. In her. She smiled, shook her head at her worrywart of a Master, and then looked back into Desmond's eyes with determination in her own.
"Because I'm the best damn shot he's got of winning this. Bar none."
-Desmonds PoV-
Desmond stared at the ashen haired woman sitting opposite him and weighed her words against his own feelings. He knew that Micheal didn't have it in him to go through a grail war. He was too kind. Desmond had purposely put him through hell to try and make him give up on this whole thing, but every time he had given Micheal new harder tasks the boy had done them. Not gracefully. Not in any way the Marines would even tolerate.
But he had done it.
Let me fight her Desmond. Its been too long since I've fought someone like her and I'm worried I've gotten rusty.
Calm down old man. Let me talk to her some more. If she slips up then you'll get your shot.
We both know that she won't. Also your not that young yourself are you, boy?
Desmond mentally sighed as Assassin laughed in his mind and refocused on the servant in front of him staring at her. She met his gaze and held it. He let some murderous intent out. She shifted slightly and her eyes narrowed but she held his gaze.
Eventually Desmond sighed, shuttered his murderous intent, and ran a hand over his face as he suddenly felt his age.
"Do you mind letting an old man talk for a bit?"
The woman tilted her head at him in the exact same way Micheal did when he was curious and Desmond blinked, momentarily taken aback. He shook his head and smiled,
"How old do you think I am?"
"….mid 50's?"
Desmond grunted,
"I'm pushing 90."
The womans mouth fell open and he had to stop himself from laughing out loud. He settled for a smile instead
"Turns out when your servant gives you their remaining magical energy to save you...side effects occur."
"Wait- back up. Your servant saved you?"
"Trust me I'm still as shocked as you are. Guy was a heartless bastard up to that point...but I supposed I should start from the beginning. Did the Grail give you any knowledge of World War 2?"
The woman shook her head.
"...Right. Long story short half the world was fighting the other half for a bunch of reasons I won't get into now. Near the tail end of it in 1945 the United States was scouting the Japanese mainland for places to drop their newest toy: The Atomic Bomb. Yet some groups were sent into the mainland with another objective: To steal as much Magical documentation and as many items as they could within a two week window before the bombs were dropped. My group was….unique. We had two mages and one Church Executor with us who provided recon and first aid as well as ranged support. Always gave me the shivers watching a bullet pull itself out of a bullet hole and then watching the hole close itself…."
Desmond had gotten lost in his memories but refocused on the woman. She was leaning forward clearly listening.
She even listens like he does….
Desmond continued telling his experiences up to the point where they had broken into a magus household and stumbled unknowingly into the middle of a ritual to summon a servant,
"...It wasn't soon after that that we all looked at each other and bolted. Even those of us with no circuits felt wave after wave of goosebumps. It was in the middle of our escape that we got separated from each other and I found myself in the backstreets of Fuyuki. I lived off the streets for three days. Not sleeping. Always wondering when some mage would remotely stop my heart or I'd wake up with a knife in my gut. Then at the end of the third night I felt a burning sensation on the back of my right hand. I watched as what looked like a yin-yang inside a hollow spiked octagon formed on my hand and then I heard footsteps behind me where there hadn't been anyone before."
"...Assassin." He heard the woman mutter to herself. Desmond nodded, "From then on I was completely separated from my squad with a Chinese killer following me around."
Desmond shook his head and lowered it,
"I bet you're wondering how I knew you were an Avenger on sight."
"Yes that is one of the...many thoughts I've had today." the woman said haltingly, "You said I 'stink like an avenger'."
"Thats because I faced an Avenger before now and survived only by my servant merging with me."
Desmond stood up and the woman made to do so as well but he motioned her to sit down. He undid his suit cuffs and began to take off his jacket,
"Avenger was a right bastard. He was the first to die out of all of the servants in the 3rd war but he also got in some good potshots at me and the other Masters in the brief time he was alive," Desmond said as he folded his jacket and raised another block of stone to set it on, "Out of all the enemies I've faced, the men I've killed….Avenger is the only one I could say with absolute certainty was 'Anti-Human' in everything it did."
Desmond had his tie off and his button up partially unbuttoned. A breeze blew by and he hissed in pain as it snuck under his shirt but he continued until he had it and his undershirt completely off. The woman gasped in horror as she saw three black slashes running from his right shoulder to his left hip across his chest. They seemed to be on the verge of gushing blood but the blood never seemed to start to spill.
"Ugly isn't it?"
"What….Who-"
"Avenger. I thought I was a normal human. Didn't even know I had the capability to summon a servant like Assassin. One night a day or two after I summoned Assassin I saw...a monster. Standing in the rain on the opposite end of the street I was on. I didn't know how to use command spells. I didn't know anything about the war I had been dragged into but Avenger didn't care. He moved at me with such speed that I could barely react before he had cut through all of my gear and sliced my chest clean open. In the split second after Assassin came in and punched a hole clean through Avenger's chest. Killing him in one blow…."
"and then Assassin sacrificed himself to save you." the woman finished as she continued to stare at the wounds, "Have...you ever tried to bandage them? Get them treated? If you work for the Lafaires then-"
"Bandages make the wounds bleed profusely. Healing magic only makes the wounds deeper. I came to the Lafaires since I heard that the lady of the house at the time dealt with healing cursed wounds. What was a longshot chance at getting healed turned into a job interview for a position I never knew I wanted. I had already been discharged from the marines by that point after serving for forty years after the 3rd grail war but couldn't find any work. The Lafaires saved my life much in the same way Assassin did."
Desmond shook his head and began to button his shirt again, "Whatever curse is in these slashes exists because Avenger or the curses that made him still exist. As for Assassin….he's an old fart but he saved my life so I owe him."
Desmond resumed putting on his suit as they both let silence linger between them. Finally fully dressed Desmond sat back down looking at the woman in her golden eyes. He didn't see pity there like he was expecting. He instead saw...admiration. Awe even. It took him off guard but he steeled himself and asked a third question,
"Micheal doesn't know about my injury. I would appreciate it-"
"My lips are sealed."
"Good. I have one final question for you then Avenger: Given what I've shown you, What I've told you, Can you promise that you'll keep Micheal safe. Can you promise me he'll come home alive and in one piece. I've had to say good bye to him once already...I don't know if I can do it again."
Desmond realized he was begging. Begging a being that was cut from the same cloth as the enemy that ruined his life but he was out of options. Micheal was going to fight in a Grail War and there was nothing Desmond, Amelia, or anyone else could do to stop him. He hung his head as he heard armor rustling in front of him followed by a flash of blue light. He grimaced, figuring that this servant was finally showing her true colors, and looked up to see she had summoned her flag and moved over to stand in front of the graves of his former comrades. She was looking down at them so he couldn't see her face but he moved to stop her when she raised the flag overhead-
Only to stab it into the ground in front of the foremost grave. She turned around to look at Desmond as he stopped mid-motion while a breeze blew by them making the flag extend itself in the breeze as the sun set behind her.
She conjured her sword and planted it in the ground between them,
"Stand tall, Desmond Lykard. You are strong."
Jeanne D'Arc Alter smirked at him,
"I will bring Micheal back. I promise you."
For the first time in a long time,
Desmond felt hope.
9 Months, 0 weeks, 3 days, 17 hours, 13 minutes until the Grail War.