**Location:** Restored ruins of an old countryside mansion, protected by a magical field. Night.
The silence was heavy, almost reverent.
Under the glow of floating magical lamps, Leonel's group stood lined up before a figure seated elegantly on a chair decorated with enchanted flowers. Though she wore no crown, her bearing was that of a monarch.
Marie Antoinette, still in her shining dress, observed them with a mix of pride, tenderness... and a hint of amusement.
Mash stepped forward and bowed.
"Mash Kyrielight, Demi-Servant. Shielder class. It's an honor, Your Majesty."
Nero followed, giving an exaggerated, dramatic curtsy, her sword sheathed.
"Nero Claudius, Saber. Empress of the most glorious empire. But I recognize another sovereign when I see one."
Jeanne inclined her head slightly, formal and serene.
"Jeanne d'Arc, Ruler. I serve the will of God and my Master."
Leonel, with a hand on his chest, gave a firm bow.
"Leonel Cruz. Master of Chaldea. It's an honor to introduce myself to you."
Marie blinked slowly.
Then, she clicked her tongue and crossed her arms.
"*Bon sang...* Stop it, all of you! This isn't Versailles," she said in a tone that was half-scolding, half-laughter.
Mash straightened up, confused.
"Huh?"
"I am no longer a queen. There is no court, no nobility here. We are just souls at war, in the midst of a tragedy made real." She rose gracefully and looked at them with kind seriousness. "Treat me as an equal. As a comrade. Otherwise, I'll get angry."
Nero brought a hand to her chest, melodramatic.
"How can I ignore natural nobility!? Majesty needs no crown to shine!"
And then, a melodious and slightly mocking voice interrupted from the side.
"Oh, please, don't start with operas now."
From a side door appeared a man in baroque robes, with disheveled white hair and a sly smile. His eyes sparkled with wit and a bit of worldly weariness.
"Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Caster class. Recently summoned alongside our beautiful Marie. Delighted, delighted."
Mash's eyes widened.
"Mozart? The composer?"
"The very same. And yes, I still compose... when we're not running from demonic dragons or being chased by a pyromaniac version of Joan of Arc."
Marie rolled her eyes with a sigh.
"He exaggerates."
Mozart smiled widely.
"I always exaggerate. It's part of the art."
Leonel stepped forward, relaxing his posture, curious.
"Are you the only allies you have here?"
Marie nodded, her expression turning serious.
"For now. But this place still holds secrets, and the survivors still have hope. Perhaps we won't be alone for much longer."
Mozart crossed his arms, leaning casually against a pillar.
"And apparently, you're not so bad. Good rhythm. Good harmony. You just need a little tuning."
Leonel couldn't help a small smile.
"So... shall we tune together?"
Marie smiled too, warmer this time.
"That is my hope, Master."
**Location:** Old ruined manor house near the Loire valley, reused as a temporary refuge. In the center, a room with a worn map of France spread over a cracked marble table. Faint light from magical candles floats in the air.
The crunch of Leonel's steps on the marble was the only thing breaking the silence for a few seconds.
He stopped before the map, his eyes scanning the names of regions that would have once seemed familiar, now stained with words like "attack zone," "razed," "absolute silence." France, the cultural heart of Europe, looked like a withered field.
Around him, the Servants waited. Mash, Nero, Jeanne, Marie Antoinette, and Mozart formed a close circle, watching attentively.
"I need you to tell me what you know," Leonel said without preamble. "Rumors, enemy movements, any possible allies. Something we haven't noticed yet."
Mozart shrugged and waved his hand with a dramatic air.
"Ah, *mon ami*... we just arrived. And we did so amidst flames and chaos." He sighed theatrically. "No matter how much the music of war has rhythm, it's not a symphony I wish to compose blindly."
Marie smiled faintly, but her expression was somber.
"Our priority was to find shelter for the civilians who remained. This mansion was abandoned, but it served to hide."
Nero, always proud, looked towards a half-burned tapestry with the coat of arms of a forgotten noble family.
"A decadent villa. A sad stage for an empress."
Mash intervened, keeping calm:
"Have you heard or seen anything that could help us? Other Servants? Organized humans?"
Marie nodded slowly, with a spark of hope in her eyes.
"When we were escaping through the forest near Tours, we saw a patrol pass by. Humans, yes, armed... and with purpose. They spoke of a village that still resisted."
Leonel tensed.
"Where?"
"Beyond the river, among the ruins of a village called Montval. They said it hadn't fallen thanks to a Servant who... destroyed dragons with barely any effort."
Jeanne gripped her spear tightly, her expression turning solemn.
"In these conditions... a Servant capable of that must be exceptional. It's not common to face dragons as if they were common beasts."
Mozart, now with genuine interest, raised an eyebrow.
"An anti-dragon Servant? That shortens the list. We might have an Ace backstage."
Nero frowned, thoughtful.
"Either a legendary Saber, a Lancer of divine power... or perhaps a Rider who rode a beast more fearsome than a dragon itself."
Leonel straightened up. In the midst of the darkness, that news was a ray of light.
"Whoever it is, we have to find them. We can't stay waiting while others fight alone."
Marie looked at him with sweetness, as if seeing something familiar in him.
"That's how a true leader speaks."
Mash nodded.
"I'm with you, Senpai."
Jeanne, with resolve:
"And if this Servant fights to protect... then they deserve to know they are not alone."
Mozart adjusted his gloves theatrically.
"The symphony of resistance begins with a single note. And we've already heard it."
Leonel nodded, his gaze ignited by new determination.
"Then, let's go find them. If there is hope in Montval, it's time to walk towards it."
**Location:** Ruined cathedral, covered in black roots and still-smoldering embers. Outside, the perpetually reddish sky throws silent lightning. Inside, a figure burns brighter than any fire.
The silence of the ruined temple was broken with each furious step of Jeanne Alter. Her boots echoed on the broken flagstones, while her black standard waved like a living flame, fueled by her rage. Her breath was irregular. Her eyes, embers lit by frustration.
"Damn you, Leonel!" she spat with fury, throwing her lance to the ground with a metallic crash. "You always escape! As if fate itself protected you... as if that other Jeanne's stupid kindness gave you wings!"
She punched one of the half-ruined columns, leaving a crack. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, but it wasn't fatigue. It was hatred. Burning, suffocating hatred that found no outlet.
"And those Servants... garbage recycled by the Holy Grail! Mozart, Marie, the false empress! And now *her* too?!" Her words dripped poison as she remembered her "other self." "I'll burn them all, one by one!"
From the shadow behind the altar, a figure approached. His gait was slow, almost reverent. The sunken, dark eyes of Gilles de Rais shone with a sickly devotion. His Caster robes barely floated above the ground, and the twisted smile on his face was more ghastly than reassuring.
"My saint..." he murmured in his raspy voice, with a hint of blasphemous ecstasy. "The fire of your hatred illuminates even this eternal night. A glorious vision."
"Don't start with your flattery, Gilles," Jeanne Alter growled without looking at him. "Do you bring news? Or did you just come to wallow in my anger as usual?"
Gilles bowed, clasping his hands like a devoted priest.
"I bring no traces. But I do bring counsel."
She slowly turned towards him, her gaze still ablaze.
"Speak. Quickly."
Gilles smiled, and his voice became softer, as if chanting a dark litany:
"Obsessing over chasing them only distracts you from your true purpose. Isn't it your vengeance that makes you strong? Isn't the desire to see France burn for those who betrayed you what gives power to your standard?"
Jeanne Alter clenched her teeth, fist tight.
"And what do you suggest? Let them go? Again?"
"You're not letting them go, my saint..." Gilles said as he moved closer, his voice almost hypnotic. "You are letting them come. Can't you feel it? The Grail... fate... everything revolves around you. They will come. Out of desperation or pride. And when they do..." His eyes shone like those of a cruel child. "...you will make sure there is nothing left of them to flee again."
For a few seconds, silence reigned once more.
Jeanne closed her eyes. Her breathing calmed. The idea, though repugnant to her pride, had logic. The rage could wait if the result was her crushing victory.
She picked up her standard from the ground with slow elegance, like someone preparing an execution.
"Then let them come.
I will be waiting.
And when they arrive... I will ensure their screams are the last song of this rotten land."
Gilles grinned from ear to ear.
"Oh, what a glorious catastrophe it will be..." he whispered.
Outside, a thunderclap without rain burst over the cathedral, as if even the sky responded to the promise of chaos to come.
**Sunset** in the forests of the French countryside. The sun, hiding behind a reddish veil, casts long shadows on the dusty path. Leonel's group advances in silence... until the sound of hooves breaks the calm.
The first to turn was Mozart, lowering his sheet music immediately.
"...That presence. It's not subtle. It's coming towards us, and fast."
Leonel had already drawn his sword. Marie, serious for the first time that day, placed herself beside him. Mash raised her shield, her instinct activating strongly.
From among the trees emerged a mounted figure. Not a dragon. Not a monster. It was a horse white as snow, and upon it a woman with a determined look, dressed in sacred battle garments: Martha, the Saint of Tarsus.
But she was not smiling. Her face reflected sadness... and resolve.
"Leonel! Servants! Prepare yourselves!" Mash shouted. "It's an enemy!"
Leonel frowned.
"Wait... there's something strange."
Martha dismounted. She let her staff fall to the ground and stepped forward with a firm pace, alone, without summoning beasts, without calling lightning. Just her, unarmed.
"I did not come for glory," she said, her voice clear as a bell in the twilight. "I came... to die."
The group hesitated. Marie brought a hand to her chest.
"Martha...?"
"I am under the control of that... false maiden. Jeanne Alter. But I still have will. Little... but enough to choose how this ends."
"So... you don't want to fight?" Leonel asked, lowering his sword slightly.
"I want to face you... yes," she nodded, her eyes moist. "But not to destroy you. But for you to destroy me. To set me free."
Mozart narrowed his eyes.
"What a tragedy... a saint forced into corruption. History always repeats its mistakes."
"I will not let my hands bless evil," Martha said with renewed strength. "If I fall fighting injustice, then I will die as I served: fighting for faith, not for the vengeance of a shadow."
Without another word, she raised her fists. Her gaze burned with the fire of martyrs.
"Come! Give me the end I deserve!"
Leonel swallowed. She wasn't an enemy... she was a victim. But he knew what she was asking. And he also knew that if he didn't do it, this woman would be used as a weapon against innocents.
"I'm sorry..." he murmured. "But I will fulfill your will."
Then, the combat began.
It was not a fierce battle. It was a solemn dance. Martha attacked with technique, without hatred. Mash responded with firmness, but without fury. Leonel faced her with all his respect, and Marie watched from behind, with silent tears falling down her cheeks.
Finally, one last precise strike brought the saint down.
Martha fell to her knees, smiling.
"Thank you... for giving me the end I couldn't give myself."
As her body faded into light, a gentle breeze swept through the forest. In the air, a feeling of peace... and redemption.
And then, she was gone.
No one spoke for a long while. Only when the last ray of sunlight disappeared did Leonel speak in a low voice:
"A sacred life... stained by darkness... and purified by her decision."
Mozart nodded solemnly.
"And may her music now resonate in a better place."
Mash lowered her shield. Marie wiped away her tears.
The group continued their march. But something had changed.
They had understood that the war in France wasn't just physical.
It was spiritual.
And not all enemies truly wanted to be one.
**The afternoon** advances, the sky covered with gray clouds and an icy breeze sweeps through the trees as Leonel's group continues their journey towards the heart of France. On the same path, a detachment of soldiers appears on the horizon, marching in the opposite direction.
Mash raises her shield, just in case.
"Allies? Or enemies?"
Marie, with her usual grace, takes a step forward and raises her hand.
"*Bonjour! Nous venons en paix.*" (Hello! We come in peace.)
The soldiers stop. One of them, tired-looking but armed to the teeth, nods upon hearing her language.
"*Mademoiselle...* what are you doing here? This road is dangerous."
"*We are traveling east, to the town of Argentierre. Have you been there?*"
Hearing that, the captain's face hardens.
"We were. Or tried to be. What we found... was a graveyard without graves. A ghost town."
Leonel frowns. He steps forward a little.
"A city... empty?"
Marie translates quickly. The captain nods gravely.
"The houses were intact. There were no signs of battle. But there were no people. Not a soul. Food on tables, chairs fallen over... as if everyone had disappeared in an instant. No corpses, no blood, no trace of struggle. Just... silence."
Mozart swallows hard.
"That's not normal. Not even for this world."
Mash nods.
"Do you think it's the work of a Servant?"
Leonel nods slowly, not taking his eyes off the horizon.
"Even if it's unlikely, we can't ignore it. Something is wrong... and if it's a threat, we can't leave it at our backs."
"*Are you going there?*" asks the captain, both surprised and concerned.
"*Oui.* We cannot ignore it," Marie responds with determination.
"Then may divine light accompany you... because darkness has already made its nest in that place."
The group says goodbye and moves on. The air grows denser. The atmosphere more gloomy.
And as they advance, Leonel looks at the horizon... and can't help but feel a chill.
"Maybe we aren't the first to arrive. But we could be the last to leave."
**The ghost town** stretches silently before them, each street seeming deader than the last. There are no birds, no wind, no sound beyond their own footsteps.
"How strange..." Marie murmurs, looking around with a worried expression. "This isn't normal. There are no signs of struggle, no bodies. Just... absence."
Leonel frowns as he observes the intact but completely abandoned buildings.
"As if everyone had disappeared at the same time..."
Mash nods, tense.
"This stillness bothers me. Could it be an illusion, or an anomaly in space?"
Before anyone else can comment, a sudden explosion echoes a few blocks away, followed by a wave of heat that shakes the dust from the ground. The sky is briefly tinted red for an instant.
"What the hell was that?!" Mozart shouts, startled.
Romani appears on the communicator, speaking urgently:
"I detect two Servant signals just east of your position! They are... wait! They're not attacking you, they're fighting each other!"
"Among themselves?" Leonel asks, surprised.
"Yes, and with everything. It's a completely irrational combat. Be careful, they seem to be out of control!"
The group runs through the streets until they peek into a half-destroyed central square, where the spectacle leaves them frozen.
In the middle of the place, a girl with long pink hair sings while launching sonic waves with her microphone, making the ground explode. She wears an Idol costume, but her eyes shine with madness and her smile is far from that of a pop star.
At the opposite end, a young girl with bluish hair in a white kimono dodges the attacks while launching flames with her naginata wrapped in spiritual fire. Her gaze is fixed, obsessive, furious.
"Stop ruining my recital, hysterical witch!" screams the Idol.
"I only came to see you, Elizabeth-sama~! Why won't you hug me in flames as always?!" the other replies in a shrill voice, almost charming if it weren't so eerie.
Leonel pales upon seeing them. He recognizes them instantly.
"Elizabeth Bathory... and Kiyohime."
Mash looks at him in surprise.
"You know them?"
"In theory, yes. But this... this isn't normal. Not even for them."
Both continue fighting with total indifference to the group, as if the world around them didn't exist. Magical sparks, flames, and sonic notes collide with force, reducing the surroundings to rubble.
Mozart watches, fascinated.
"This is... art. Chaotic, noisy, terrifying... but definitely art."
Leonel takes a defensive stance.
"We can't ignore them. If they keep this up, they'll destroy the whole town. And if they notice our presence, we won't know if they'll attack us or not."
Romani intervenes again:
"I warn you, both magical readings are unstable. Most likely they've lost their rational sense. Perhaps some kind of corruption..."
Leonel nods.
"Then we'll have to interrupt their 'concert' before there are more victims."
Mash steps forward, shield in hand.
"What's the plan?"
Leonel observes the battlefield with a tense smile.
"That the curtain falls... before they set us on fire too."
**The group** barely has a few seconds to devise a strategy when Leonel narrows his eyes as he observes the combatants.
"You know, now that I see them properly..." he says in a thoughtful tone. "One is a draconian Idol with domination tendencies, and the other is an incendiary yandere with a dragon's tail."
Mash looks at him confused.
"Dragons?"
Leonel nods with a mocking smile.
"Technically, yes. Elizabeth is part dragon, and Kiyohime? Well, let's say if you give her a good enough reason, she turns into an XXL-sized salamander. They're like... Pokémon waifus, 'Dragon and Madness' version."
A sepulchral silence falls over the square.
The two girls stop fighting each other... and slowly turn their heads towards him.
Elizabeth narrows her eyes with a tense smile.
"Pokémon waifu type *what* did you say?!"
Kiyohime blinks.
"Salamander? Was that a metaphor or an insult?"
Leonel takes a step back, still smiling.
"Hey, hey, don't take it personally... it's tactical information! I mean, they might even have a final evolution if they level up!"
Both are quiet for a moment... and then:
"YOU'RE GOING TO REGRET IT, MISERABLE HUMAN!!!"
A simultaneous burst of fire and sound explodes in their direction.
"Mash, cover!" Leonel yells, rolling to the side while holding his card. "Persona, come to me!"
A blue aura bursts beneath his feet and his card shines like sacred obsidian. From a whirlwind of shadows and smoke emerges Tezcatlipoca, the Smoking Mirror: an imposing figure with a masked face, body covered in ritual marks, and a black mirror floating on his left arm.
"May the night swallow your arrogance!" declares the deity's guttural voice as it appears.
Leonel smiles with confidence.
"Well, since they woke the dragon-crazy girls... team, on stage!" he shouts. "Marie, Mozart, Mash, organized comedy formation!"
Mash blocks a sonic wave with her shield while Marie launches a calming musical breeze, and Mozart starts a thunderous symphony that interrupts the enemy attacks.
"Is this a fight or a magic circus?!" exclaims the composer, dodging a fireblast from Kiyohime.
Leonel, supported by Tezcatlipoca's vision, instantly analyzes.
"Kiyohime has a delay between flames! Elizabeth attacks in measures, her punch comes every three beats! Counter on the fourth!"
The synchronization improves. Tezcatlipoca raises a dark mist that slows down both dragonesses' perceptions, while the rest of the team takes advantage to counterattack with precision.
Mozart launches a high note that vibrates in Elizabeth's ears.
"My perfect high notes!" she yells, stumbling.
Mash sends a shield bash that launches Kiyohime into the air.
"That wasn't a hug!" she whimpers.
"Finale in C major!" Leonel shouts. "Mash, Marie, special bonk combo!"
An explosion of petals, shield, and musical notes hits them both. Two enormous bumps appear on their heads with a resonant *BONK!*.
The two fall on their behinds, with spinning eyes and swollen faces.
"That was artistic cheating!" shrieks Elizabeth.
"My soul hurts... and my forehead..." murmurs Kiyohime.
Leonel crosses his arms, satisfied.
"Lesson of the day: don't underestimate the strategist with an Aztec god on his back."
Tezcatlipoca resonates with a low growl, also satisfied.
**Both dragonesses** find themselves on their knees on the ground, still with large bumps on their heads. They pout while emitting light clouds of humiliation and defeat. Elizabeth looks at the sky as if her dignity had been exiled, and Kiyohime sways slightly, with a little contained sob.
Leonel, arms crossed, watches them in silence. Only the wind carries a few loose notes from Mozart's lute and rose petals from Marie.
"...Well," he finally breaks the silence. "If you've calmed down a bit, I have questions."
Elizabeth snorts.
"More humiliation?"
"No. Information. Have you seen other Servants who aren't under that dragon witch's control?"
The girls look at each other, then nod slowly.
"Yes..." murmurs Elizabeth. "There's a guy... a weird knight with armor... and a spear or something. He hated dragons. He called us 'scale abominations.' How rude!"
Kiyohime nods.
"He had cold eyes, almost soulless... his spirit screamed 'draconic hatred.' If it helps, his aura smelled of blind justice."
Leonel frowns.
"A dragon slayer, huh...? Anything else?"
Elizabeth raises a finger.
"There's another. He didn't fight us, but we saw him praying... he looked like a holy knight. He had a large cross, a banner like Jeanne's, and a warm aura. I think his name was... Georgios. Or was it George? Something like that."
Jeanne, who was listening attentively, reacts.
"That must be Saint George! The patron saint of soldiers. He's a noble heroic spirit."
Leonel nods, thinking fast.
"Good. Here's what we'll do: Jeanne, Marie, you will look for Georgios. If he's as holy as they say, he could be a good ally for this madness."
Marie throws a bright smile.
"*Oui*, it will be like a divine quest! Let's go, Jeanne-chan!"
"W-with care, please..." murmurs Jeanne.
"Mash, Mozart, you're with me. We'll track down the dragon slayer before he finds another scaly one to behead."
"A dangerous and tragic mission. I like it," says Mozart, adjusting his wig. "But before we go, Master... what do we do with the Draconid young ladies and their defeat bumps?"
Leonel turns to them and crouches, looking at them face to face.
"And you? What do you want to do?"
Elizabeth crosses her arms, still pouting.
"Well, nothing! I don't have my microphone, no stage, not even an audience to cheer for me! This war is garbage..."
Kiyohime, however, watches him silently, with narrowed, blushing eyes.
"You..." she says quietly. "You protected me. You spoke to me calmly. You defeated me without killing me..."
Leonel blinks.
"Uh... yes. It was part of the plan."
"You're just like my dear Anchin! The perfect reincarnation of that cowardly monk I loved so much... and burned!" she declares with a mix of passion and madness.
Everyone freezes.
"...Is that good or bad?" Mash whispers.
Kiyohime stands up with a sweet and dangerous smile at the same time.
"I'll stay with you, Anchin. I'll protect you from the other dragon girls... and from those other flirty women around you!"
Leonel sighs, looking at the sky.
"...The harem curse has struck again."
Elizabeth rolls her eyes.
"I have nothing better to do. I guess if I travel with you I can gain some fame... And keep Kiyohime from setting everything on fire!"
Mozart applauds.
"Bravo! Joining out of necessity, irrational love, and lack of plans! The purest spirit of camaraderie from the tales!"
Leonel nods with resignation.
"Fine. Welcome to the Team of the Chaotic. Put your name on the list... right next to 'Potential Problems.'"
Mash nods sweetly.
"I've already noted them, Senpai."
Kiyohime smiles as if she'd been given an engagement ring.
Elizabeth sighs.
"Just don't compare me to Pokémon anymore... unless I get an evolution and concerts with fireworks."
Leonel smiles mischievously.
"Negotiable!"
**Point of View: Jeanne d'Arc**
The sky, blackened by the ashes of senseless wars, barely let a ray of light through. They walked through what was once a cheerful city, now turned into a skeleton of ruins and laments. Jeanne's steps resonated solemnly on the remains of a cobblestone street. Beside her, Marie Antoinette danced among the rubble with a smile that defied the sadness of the world.
"Do you really think he's here, Jeanne-chan?" asked the queen with a slight twirl, scattering pink petals she collected from her dress, as if there was still something beautiful left to offer.
"I know it. Faith leaves traces, even among the ashes," the maiden replied, her standard resting on her shoulder. "I feel his presence... like a prayer still alive."
They advanced to a half-destroyed square. Silence took hold of the atmosphere, broken only by the crunch of marble under their feet. In the center, surrounded by spectral horses and fallen statues, a man prayed on his knees, his figure bathed by a single ray of sun that managed to penetrate the dense darkness.
His armor was worn, but still shone with dignity. His lance rested to the side and, upon his chest, hung a silver cross that seemed to glow of its own will.
"Georgios..." Jeanne whispered, taking a step forward.
The saintly knight slowly opened his eyes. His gaze, serene like that of a shepherd in the midst of the apocalypse, settled upon them.
"Maid of Orleans..." he murmured with reverence. "Heaven still sustains you. Then... there is hope."
"I am but a reflection of the will of those who still believe," she replied. "We have come to ask for your help. There is a shadow using my face, twisting everything I once represented. Her cross is not of light, but of fire."
Georgios nodded silently. Then, he rose unhurriedly, taking his lance as if it were an extension of his faith.
"If I must ride once more... I shall. For those who still seek redemption."
"*Oui!*" Marie exclaimed with a luminous smile. "That's how you speak, holy knight!"
But the air changed. As if the very wind refused to move, the temperature dropped sharply. A shiver ran through the square. From a dark alley, a figure emerged, its steps soft, almost ethereal, as if the world refused to acknowledge its presence until it was too late.
"Marie Antoinette..." said a muted voice, laden with guilt. "What irony that history unites us again."
The queen turned, her face paling. Before her, held with a single hand, a Servant carried a miniature guillotine, sharp and cruel. His face was young, but his gaze carried centuries of sadness.
"Sanson..." murmured Marie. "It was you... you pulled the lever..."
"So it was. And I still feel the weight of that day," the Executioner replied. "But this time, I am not a man. I am merely the tool of judgment... And I have been given a new list."
"You are being manipulated," Jeanne growled, interposing herself between him and the queen, her standard raised. "Can't you see it? Jeanne Alter only sows death. This isn't justice... it's cruelty!"
"Justice is cold," Sanson replied without raising his voice. "It needs no passion. Not even truth. Only a name... and a blade."
Georgios advanced alongside Jeanne, his lance shining with a golden light.
"If you seek to execute the innocent... then you shall face the judgment of the saints."
Marie, with an unusually serious melancholy, drew her scepter adorned with flowers.
"I never wanted to die like that... and even less to see my executioner become an enemy. But if fate insists, let it know that this time... I will dance among the blades."
The shadows danced around. The square, once silent, was now a stage of faith against remorse, of light against distorted justice.
The battle was about to begin... and this time, there would be no easy redemption.