La Pucelle (2)

Jeanne Alter was dreaming. There was just no other way to describe what she was experiencing unless it was some sort of magic or auditory hallucination.

France was gone, and everything around her was burning; the sound of fires crackling while unfamiliar structures gave way and collapsed indiscriminately felt jarring to her mind. Worst of all, there was an overwhelming sense of familiarity in the air.

Embers and ash drifted in the wind, carrying the scent of scorched flesh and bone.

Rubble was scattered everywhere and beneath it all lay charred limbs and bodies blackened to the bone.

Acrid smoke rose up in dark fumes that pervaded everywhere the fires didn't touch. Breathing it all in with each mouthful of air, it caused her to wretch and cough, her eyes stinging. She brought her hands up over her eyes and peered around through the slits of her fingers.

She wasn't wearing her armour. She didn't feel her accompanying strength as a Servant.

How could she not think that this could be anything but a dream- no: a nightmare?

The fires danced around her, long wisps and tongues lapping up her feet and setting fire to the very same white gown she wore on the day she was set upon a pyre.

"No. No stop!" She desperately began batting her palms over the encroaching flames, but like the past, there was nothing she could do as the agony of watching and feeling her skin blacken and peel drove her insane.

It hurts! It hurts!

"Gilles-GILLES!" She screamed, her legs giving out on her as she tumbled over the ground.

All at once the memories of dispassionate gazes came back to her. The pope, the clergy, the masses scorning her as a witch despite once calling her a hero; all of it manifested in her mind.

When she looked up at her surroundings, all she could see were the very same faces watching her indifferently as she burned. Why had she been abandoned? Where was her salvation?

All that she had to depend on was herself.

Damn it.

She gritted her teeth and shook her head to clear her mind. This was a dream. Just a dream. She blinked hard, and when she looked again, the faces were gone, and replaced by the eerie crackling of flames, and the sound of her own flesh sizzling.

She couldn't breathe. She was suffocating, and in this moment as the fires threatened to engulf her, she saw something.

Out of the corner of her eyes and very near: movement.

Someone had just stepped next to her where she lay prone and burning on the ground. With squinted eyes, she just barely made out the image of a leg through the smog of thick smoke.

She grabbed onto that leg not to beg or plead, but to indulge in a moment of pettiness. Her lips curled into a derisive grin. If this was a nightmare where she relived the feeling of burning alive, then she'd rather drag someone else down to share in her misery. However, the biggest shock came when she got a good look at the individual's face.

"!" she sputtered in alarm.

Red hair and bronze-coloured eyes, these two distinct traits were none other than the same features as the Master of Chaldea she'd taken captive but several years younger. He was just a boy. The fact that she'd always referred to him as 'you' or 'idiot' meant that she didn't exactly know his name, but regardless, her very same prisoner was burning in the same hell as her.

Fire crawled up his feet, and bruises and scuffs mottled his skin in ugly purple blotches.

There was no doubt that he must have been experiencing the same agony as her, but his expression didn't reveal anything. It was cold, unfeeling, and vacant. His eyes…

So empty. So hollow. So Goddamn relatable.

This was the expression of an individual who'd lost all meaning in their life: the very same expression she wore on the day she died on the pyre. This was despair, ruin, and more.

It was the exact point where you just don't feel anything past the rage, sadness, and grief. All of it becomes meaningless, and all that's left is the bitter feeling of death and abandonment. You can cry out for injustice, plead for mercy, but no one will hear you, nor answer even if they could.

This fire, this place, this dream-

Her brows knit together in consternation, her lips pursing in indecision because she was suddenly seeing parallels.

For a moment she was stunned not because of anything meaningful, but due to a restrictive vice-like feeling in her chest squeezing at her heart. This feeling was known as doubt, and once it took root, all it would do was fester no matter how small it began.

Her outstretched hand holding onto the boy's leg was candidly wrenched loose as the boy ignored her and just walked on.

She said nothing, did nothing regarding his actions as the fires crept up to her chest and darkened her vision from the onset of pain. After all, there was nothing for her to criticize.

Because it was exactly what she would have done, and it unnerved her.

Their beginnings seemed almost identical; born in unforgiving fires, and left abandoned to die at the machinations of the world and people around them.

So why did they turn out so different in reality?

Why did he seem so at peace with himself rather than scorning the hand life had dealt him?

Why wasn't he like her?

It made no sense.

The fire eating away at her body engulfed her, searing her flesh and cooking her bones.

Ah…It hurts.

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Jeanne Alter opened her eyes, gasping for air.

Beads of sweat matted her brows, her complexion paler than usual. She was seated atop the back of the black Dragon Fafnir gliding across the skies of Orleans in search of her next quarry.

Wind whipped across her face, a hand extending up to rub at her temples while she steadied herself from a bout of dizziness. The interlinking metal ringlets over the fingers of her gauntlets creaked and groaned at the action, but it would seem that it was a futile effort no matter how hard she pressed to alleviate the pressure in her head.

She scowled, feeling a sense of discomfort and vulnerability.

What even was that?

The fires in her dream had felt so vivid, so life-like, and then there was the scene of her prisoner. She still didn't know what to make of it other than the fact that what she had seen may have been a depiction of something that actually happened to her prisoner.

He too had been through a fiery hell of acrid smoke and flames, but unlike her who had been crying out for salvation and lashing out in rage, there was nothing to be felt from him.

It was surreal. Utterly unbelievable to the point she doubted whether her prisoner's current lease on life was nothing but a façade to hide the 'true' character she'd seen in the fire.

Could it be, was he actually just like her? But then how could she explain the radiance that had saved him on the day she should have reduced him to ashes underfoot?

Nothing was making a lick of sense, and the one possibility Gilles kept denying, that God and his wonders may truly exist, wasn't something she wished to believe… because if there was a God, she would surely be punished.

Yet that light; that warm radiance of protection and care; it was the same one as that day.

No. Enough.

She scowled, standing up from a seated position and up onto her feet. The war banner she was carrying on her person acted as a balance to help steady her while she surveyed the lands below.

She'd gotten a report regarding the movements of Chaldea's remaining Masters from one of the Servants she'd summoned using the Holy Grail in her possession. Presently, she was now in pursuit in order to nip a bud before it could become a nuisance.

Then why keep that other one alive?

She bit down on her lower lip, her hands balling into fists.

That's right. He's only alive if only to prove something to herself, and nothing more.

"Where are these pests?" She frowned while making another swoop of the area and finding nothing.

The thing about her summoned Servants was that they were all summoned with the attribute of Berserkers. Their rationality was limited, and she saw them as no more that glorified attack hounds, but a competent few still retained a portion of rationality, allowing them to execute specific orders.

Of course, the information she'd obtained was rather vague about where Chaldea's remaining people were, but it was good enough to point her in a direction. She should find them soon if anything. Or it could just be that Fafnir's form gliding in the sky was too conspicuous and they were effectively hiding from her.

Damn it. That could actually be it.

Without another thought, she leapt off of Fafnir and had him go somewhere else while mounting a regular wyvern instead.

It was slower and less comfortable, but she hoped this would do the trick. Moreover, she'd sent her Servants out on patrol nearby so if they happen to come across Chaldea's remaining Masters, she'd quickly make her way over.

Good. This plan could work. All that was left now was to wait for the moment that the prey was ensnared.

Right now, she could just look forward to a future in which her vengeance come to fruition.

But would she really be satisfied, happy?

She thought once more of the little boy in her dreams, then to the man he was today with no traces of the emptiness he once carried in the flames of a ruined cityscape. Had he actually found something beyond personal vengeance and attained genuine peace with himself?

She wanted that too, and would she really obtain it through humanity's extinction?

She grimaced. There was no need to think about this for any longer.

So, why did her prisoner's damn emotionless face in her dream keep appearing in her mind?

"Faster," she urged her new mount.

She was done with these useless thoughts.

Where were her enemies when she needed them?

------------------------------------

Long grass and swaying reeds could be seen for as far as the eye could see over an idyllic blue horizon, but none of that meant anything if you couldn't enjoy it. Of course, humanity was already on the brink of extinction so it was to expected that leisure wouldn't mean anything in this pressing crisis; however, there was a very different and more direct kind of crisis that was looming over the heads of everyone involved in Chaldea's upper management and field operative teams.

Communications with Romani has been few and far between from the moment this singularity had began a day earlier. Apart from a curt analysis to scan the vicinity for potentially hostile signatures, the chattering of Romani's teeth was all that could be heard apart from DaVinci's sighing.

Off to the side, Saber Alter was very studiously sharpening her sword in utter silence while seated on a boulder around waist-high. She'd been at it for the past hour and showed no signs of stopping. If her mood could kill, then this singularity would already be over because there would no survivors.

Shirou had been separated from the team, and when it was seen that he was summoning Saber Alter to his side, Ritsuka, Mash, and Olga let out sighs of relief knowing that he wouldn't be without protection. Dense magical energy had surrounded Saber Alter from the very moment she had manifested with everyone else, and it was concluded that Shirou was utilizing a Command Seal. Saber Alter said so herself that she was being summoned, and yet that very same summoning was abruptly cancelled.

What was worse was that Romani couldn't get a read on Shirou's signal to determine where he was, and Saber Alter said that her connection with Shirou had suddenly been cut. She couldn't feel him, nor receive magical energy from him. Fortunately, Chaldea had created a bypass channel to fuel her with the facility's magic energy so she wasn't in danger of dissipating.

In Olga's words, 'Saber Alter is too strong an ally at the moment to risk losing her this early on.'

Of course, Olga then made the suggestion for Saber Alter to form a temporary contract with her, but Saber Alter was less than inclined to agree. More so when Olga tentatively broached the topic of whether or not Shirou was dead or alive.

Saber Alter had refused to talk with anyone ever since, a perpetual scowl over her face that did well to hide the anxiety she was inwardly feeling. Ritsuka suspected that a majority of her animosity towards Romani was only present because she needed someone to vent at, and Romani had no excuses in Saber Alter's mind.

To be frank, Ritsuka felt utterly out of his depth despite wishing to somehow mediate the situation. It had already been a day, the first few hours of which had been spent with Olga standing on tenterhooks and somehow managing to convince Saber Alter that searching for Shirou on her own would get her nowhere without assistance. At least if she stayed with them, there was the chance that Chaldea's sensors could pick up Shirou's signal.

The time period was 1431. AD. The location, France Orleans as explained in the briefing. The area was large, and being unable to feel Shirou out, all Saber Alter would do by leaving was waste her time.

What they needed now was information and security. This was why they'd spent the first day of their arrival looking for a suitable leyline to set up proper communication channels with Chaldea and create a summoning circle.

"Then if you would, Mash." Ritsuka looked a tad nervously in Saber Alter's direction while Olga fidgeted in place. "I don't think Saber has the patience to last idling any longer," he whispered.

"R-Right," Mash quickly placed her shield down over the leyline they'd secured and Olga got to work with setting up the ritual foundations of the magic circle over Mash's shield.

Olga wet her lips, beads of sweat matting her forehead as the tension she was feeling got to her. Well, it could just be due to Saber Alter's worsening mood, but more specifically, Olga's own unease and concerns were causing her to fidget. She carefully wiped her forehead with the back of her sleeve and pursed her lips.

As cold and dispassionate as Olga appeared to her employees in Chaldea, it wasn't as if she herself was above compassion and feelings. In fact, she was probably the most susceptible to such things because one of her deepest desires is to be acknowledged, needed even by those around her.

As the head of Chaldea, the role was supposed to mean something. A verification if you will to prove others wrong.

And now, the very same Master that had saved her life and successfully managed to secure a means out of the Fuyuki singularity was missing after a blunder on Chaldea's end. How could she not feel partly responsible?

Servants. They were what was needed right now.

Saber Alter was more of an attack type, and what was worse was that they had no guarantee that she'd follow instructions without Shirou around.

Olga bit the nail of her thumb, her uncharacteristic silence and lack of haughtiness, stunning Mash who'd never seen Olga look so driven. This was an appearance that would have earned Olga at least some form of support had she used it in Chaldea rather than adopt the general airs of a proud Magus family heiress. She was already alienated due to how young she was when her father passed, and didn't help that the other Lords of the Clock Tower exerted pressure in regards to Chaldea's operations.

This was Olga's first step forward both at maturity and to become an outstanding Master. At the very least, she'd learned in Fuyuki about the importance of the support of those around her.

She thought back to how Shirou had saved her life in the command room, and found that she couldn't stomach this situation as well as she thought she could.

This isn't how an Animusphere repays her debts!

"We need information. All that we know is that we're in France and that something has diverged from the original timeline. Moreover, if its an Assassin, their presence concealment should allow them to scout for and retrieve Shirou with the least amount of danger." Olga murmured before biting on the inside of her cheek and thinking of the best possible choice of Servant. "An Assassin-Class it is, but I'll have to hope one actually answers without a proper catalyst."

Taking out fragments of energy known as Saint Quartz that powered Chaldea's summoning system, she took six for herself and handed Ritsuka three. This allocation was due to Olga possessing Shirou's share which he certainly couldn't use right now. Moreover, Ritsuka already had Mash deployed so things balanced out like this.

Soon after Olga inserted the three Saint Quartz, blue sigils shone over Mash's shield and formed a dome with a vertex aligned with revolving orbs of blue energy. The rarer and stronger the Servant, the larger the reaction would be. Gold signified a peerless Servant of renown while rainbow colours were associated with a Heroic Spirit that altered an era.

Despite the situation, Olga felt a twinge of anticipation for what kind of Servant would answer her call especially because she'd never imagined she'd be a Master in any way due to her low aptitude. This anticipation reached its zenith when the orbs of magic converged together and formed a radiant pillar of light.

A figure emerged, elegant, refined looking, and carrying an air of aloofness that seemed captivating in the humble soft contours of his face. His long hair was tied up into a pony tail by a small twin knot, and over his body he wore a sleeveless open purple vest with a lighter coloured yukata secured by a thin obi sash.

He was…handsome if anything. More than that, Olga was just excited at the prospect that she really had been able to summon a Servant; ergo, verification of her status as a Master.

"Assassin, Sasaki Kojiro," the man's voice was smooth like water, refined like perfectly brewed tea. "I have been called upon to your service."

"Uhm, ah yes well," she coughed into her hand in a bid to hide the exhilaration she was feeling, but when she then quietly assessed his stats as a Servant, her shoulders couldn't help but slump.

[Strength: C]

[Endurance: E]

[Mana: E]

[Noble Phantasm: -]

Is this actually a joke? What sort of Servant had a [-] rank for a Noble Phantasm? It didn't even qualify for an E. The only real stats she could see that were excellent were agility and luck. What? Did this seriously mean he was going to win battles by just jumping around and hoping for the best? That the enemy would just carelessly impale themselves on their own weapon out of frustration that all her Servant could do was likely run and dodge?

"A-A pleasure," she gritted out while darting her eyes away, her mood suddenly plummeting. However, she was unwilling to let her dissatisfaction show out of pride.

The call of a summoned Servant without a catalyst often meant they were the Servants most suitable to the Master. In her case, did that mean weak and cowardly? Was that what was being implied here? She could practically hear Saber Alter snorting in her mind.

No. NO this can't be true!

Hastily, she placed her last three saint quartz and watched the material dissipate into orbs of revolving energy. The first summon was a mistake. It was because she wanted an Assassin so she got one. Everyone knows that Assassin's have the least balanced Servant parameters.

The swirling magic orbs over the summoning circle rapidly revolved and converged into a pillar of light. For a moment she saw flecks of gold and was practically beaming. However, sudden tendrils of magic energy swapped the colours from gold to standard, to gold, and then back to standard where it settled.

A pang of disappointment pierced at her heart, but it didn't matter. Rare and powerful Servants were rare because they were rare. Most even required a catalyst.

This time, Olga just wanted a stronger Servant to fight by her side; to be her shield in her time of need; someone she could depend on and help her find Shirou.

Someone grand; someone beautiful; someone befitting of her!

"I am Berserker Spartacus!"

The light of the summoning died down as the formed pillar dissipated to reveal a figure.

NOOOOOO!

A hunk of greyish bulging muscles appeared in front of Olga grinning from ear to ear, and wearing the most impractical armour she'd ever seen. It was basically just a metal harness made of straps as if asking to be stabbed and mutilated rather than serve any form of protection.

Worse, there was a crazed gleam in the man's eyes and it wasn't just because he was a Berserker.

"Sorry to ask this, but are you a tyrant?" Spartacus loomed over Olga with fanatical pressure, causing the already depressed Olga to cower.

"N-No," she rasped dispiritedly, crouching on her feet and drawing circles on the ground. "I'm a victim..." (A salty victim of harsh reality and gatcha gods.)

"A member of the oppressed! Come, let my warmth comfort you!"

"No please n-!"

Spartacus wrapped a meaty arm over Olga's shoulders and pressed her face into the warmth of his pectorals which smooshed against Olga's left cheek. She flopped like a dying fish trying to get out of the hold, but all it did was encourage Spartacus to hug her to him longer. Finally, she just fell limp and resigned.

"Now now, if you're really so dissatisfied with me, then I suppose I'll just have to prove myself in battle later." Sasaki wore a wry smile. Clearly, he wasn't unaware of his low parameters. Olga glanced over looking as if her soul- no actually that was her dignity had just been sucked out after Spartacus finally let her go.

Sasaki coughed into his hand, trying to give a reassuring demeanor. "My stats may not be high, but my sword remains just as sharp as any Servant's."

Somehow, Olga doubted that claim, but she quickly shook herself out of her stupor.

Locating Shirou and finding what happened to him was the priority at the moment, and this was what mattered. Sasaki didn't seem very reliable, and Spartacus was evidently a brute, but she still managed to Summon an Assassin-class. She could send him for reconnaissance as he should be able to evade the senses of enemy Servants.

With everything sorted out, why then could she not look away from Ritsuka as he approached the summoning circle?

Hmph. She was only curious. It wasn't like she was comparing or anything.

Meanwhile, something told Ritsuka he probably shouldn't try his luck right now, but the urging expression on Mash's face and the chance of danger lurking in the singularity won out in the end. More importantly, the greater their forces, the more people could be sent to search for Shirou's condition.

"Here goes," Ritsuka muttered before mimicking Olga's summoning method and offering up three Saint Quartz as a catalyst.

The summoning circle whirred to life, the orbs of energy spinning faster and faster until it was nothing but a blur. The onset of yellow-almost-gold energy particles nearly had Ritsuka sweating since he could feel Olga's stare on him because this time they didn't dissipate.

A figure soon emerged from the pillar of magic light.

The man was short and wearing a tailored black dress shirt and pants with white sleeves. The shirt was high collared and buttoned up to the neck. Meanwhile, a look of stunned confusion and wonderment was plastered over the summoned figure's face. His eyes were almost an amber red, and his hair was a light shade of brown messily swept up at the front.

If there was something unique about this Servant, it was that his base stats seemed just as low as Sasaki's, alleviating much of the pressure from Olga's stare.

"Servant...my name is Sieg. I never really expected myself to get summoned, but I think I'm a Caster?" Sieg sounded unsure before resolutely nodding after assessing himself. This was when he noticed Olga's lackluster reaction and Ritsuka who didn't know how to reciprocate the shared pity in Olga's eyes.

Sieg glanced at his feet unsurely. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm just an ordinary homunculus in this body."

Suddenly, Olga's stare became much lighter much to everyone's exasperation. Some things just don't change, and the haughty and competitiveness of Olga's upbringing left little to be imagined.

"I may not be particularly powerful, but the Noble Phantasm that's been registered to me might be useful in battle. Use me as you see fit." Sieg scratched at the back of his head, a sheepish smile over his face.

"Good to have you!" Ritsuka beamed encouragingly. He wasn't above caring for the level of a Servant, and paid more attention to the gratitude he felt that a Servant had answered his summoning.

Mash smiled softly at the proceedings while Olga began to sort out her situation with Spartacus and Sasaki, the former of which Olga was having trouble convincing wasn't suited for espionage. It was quite evident that if Olga pointed in a direction, Spartacus would run there and never look back until he'd achieved the goal.

"An ally may be in the hands of oppressors! My love shall destroy them all!"

"What love you oaf?! Just stop and listen to me!" Olga snapped. "Just stay in spirit form for everyone's sake!"

Spartacus tilted his head. "A rebellion?"

"No, a request from the oppressed," oddly enough, it was Sieg who spoke up with a thoughtful expression while looking at Spartacus. There was an air of familiarity around Sieg that no one could quite place. However, Olga was just glad that Spartacus seemed to grin in understanding and mercifully followed Olga's instructions to keep hidden lest no locals would dare interact with them.

An uplifting mood descended on the area with the arrival of new allies, but one person wasn't quite enjoying the idleness.

"Are you all done?" Saber Alter's cold tone cut into the pleasantries. It was the first time she'd talked all day, and the frigidness was chilling to the bone.

Impatience and frustration were all that could be seen on her features. Her lips were pursed, and her brows were constantly knit into a perpetual glare.

Sasaki opened his mouth to alleviate the sudden tension, but Saber Alter wasn't having it.

"Do. Not. Test. Me," she growled and shook her head while grimacing. Her grip over her sword tightened, the sound of metal creaking echoing out. "You all can stay here, plan, and waste even more time, but I'm going. We saw a nearby town earlier in the day. War and battle should be decisive should an ally's condition be uncertain. I've wasted enough time here. Follow me or not, it doesn't matter. I'm leaving."

Saber Alter stopped sharpening her sword, stood up on her feet, and began walking off without looking back once. The clanking of her armour echoed in Olga, Ritsuka, and Mash's ears while they stared at each other in silence.

"I think we should follow." Ritsuka scratched at his cheek before he began to jog ahead followed by Mash and Sieg.

Olga looked to Sasaki who inclined his head. "Shall we? They're getting further and further ahead, and I can carry you if need be. Or would you prefer Mr. Spartacus?"

Olga shut her mouth. Sasaki's words were true. At Saber Alter's pace, the only reason Ritsuka could catch up was because Mash had decided to carry him.

Between Sasaki and Spartacus, Olga made her choice while shuddering.

Sasaki smiled kindly and lifted Olga up into a princess carry before dashing off at incredible speed.

"At least your agility is good for something," Olga murmured feebly while feeling embarrassed at Sasaki's subsequent laughter. Of course, he'd heard her.

"A good Master can make the best of any situation," Sasaki offered. "If anything, I can tell you have potential."

Olga blinked at the unexpected praise, her cheeks flushing.

F-Flattery will get you nowhere!

She huffed and crossed her arms, keeping one eye open to stare at Sasaki as her features softened.

Keep going.

-----------------------------

To a Servant, the distance of several kilometers to the nearest town wasn't anything but trivial to cross. In the meantime, Olga had taken the chance to explain the situation to their latest comrades while Saber Alter trudged on at the front of the group. Of course, the detail that Saber Alter was currently missing her Master, hence her urgency and rube behaviour, were also explained including some of the events at Fuyuki.

"Ah, such an ardent passion and fervor is to be admired," Sasaki commented lightly.

"Love, huh?" Sieg echoed, a wistful yet depreciating smile stretching across his face before he sighed.

"Word of warning, but don't say that to her face," Ritsuka didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Shirou's Saber isn't exactly the most forthcoming regarding her emotions and cares. If you pry or assume, it generally ends badly."

Sieg nodded slowly.

"Senpai, shh," Mash's eyes darted to Ritsuka then back to Saber Alter ahead. "She might hear you, and it's not good to talk behind other's backs."

Indeed. Ritsuka nodded in a fluster and covered his face as Mash picked up the pace to match Saber Alter's strides. The wind was fierce and chilly, but by straining his vision, Ritsuka could make out the quickly approaching town ahead of them.

"Ritsuka, tell your Servants to take astral form when we arrive," Olga spoke from their communications relay system. "We'll attract too much attention as a large group, and it will be easier for you to talk to this era's citizens since you look weak."

Implied in this one statement was the fact that Olga wasn't going to be involved in the information gathering too deeply. She knew full well that her manner of speaking may as well drive strangers off rather than get them comfortable enough to speak to her. She glowered. "If all else fails, we use hypnosis. It's much easier."

And more inhuman, was left unsaid in Ritsuka's mind.

He cleared his thoughts and gathered his composure. They'd just reached the town, and like Olga suggested, he asked Sieg to take astral form while Sasaki did the same at Olga's prompting. All that was left was Saber Alter, but she didn't seem too inclined to take matters out of her own hands. Instead, when everyone reached her, she just gave a curt nod and proceeded ahead into the city.

The first thing that Ritsuka noticed was that there was hardly anyone in the streets at all. Windows were boarded shut, and the occasional silhouette could be seen peaking out at them from narrow alleys and side building compartment zones.

Old century French era architecture had its own artistic flair in gothic arches and tailored patterns, but no matter where Ritsuka looked, there were signs of damage. Claw marks, depressions, mottled holes, and charred and blackened buildings could be seen from time to time.

"Senpai," Mash called out tentatively.

"Hmm?" he hummed.

"People are whispering and pointing at us," Mash observed.

Just because the streets were empty didn't mean that no one was out idling by the sidewalks. When Mash tried to approach, the people quickly ran and fled to their homes. This repeated numerous times before Olga suddenly had the idea to suggest that Saber Alter shouldn't be the one in the lead.

Saber Alter's aura and appearance might be turning people away.

"If you would, please stay in the back," Olga suggested, her index fingers touching at the tips. She'd never appeared so meek in front of a person in her life, but guilt for Chaldea's blunder and fear of Saber Alter had long since cowed Olga in regards to Saber Alter.

"Hn," Saber Alter gave no other remark and was content to observe and allow everyone else to gather information if they'd seen anyone with red hair. It was a rare hair colour out in France, so it was worth a try.

With Saber Alter trailing at the back, people really did seem more approachable; however, it didn't stop the fact that they'd run away for one reason or another.

Fruitless in their endeavors, the group stumbled upon a tavern with a pub at max capacity. Olga, Ritsuka, and Mash glanced at each other before directly entering the establishment. The bar tender working at the pub lazily glanced up when everyone first entered.

"Welcome," the bar tender greeted gruffly. "We don't have much to offer right now but-" the man's eyes bugged out. "No-No go away!" He just started screaming.

The sound of shattering glass echoed soon after as Saber Alter stepped inside the pub. Several mugs clattered to the ground all at once where they rolled and stopped under everyone's feet.

If it wasn't obvious before, it was obvious now.

Everyone present was utterly terrified not at them, but at Saber Alter who was inwardly confused, but remained utterly indifferent on the outside.

No one knew when it had happened, or who started it, but several eggs, cups, and utensils were all thrown at Saber Alter who was too bewildered to think to dodge.

Olga, Ritsuka, and Mash's faces paled.

"…Nononnonono," Olga cradled her head.

Saber Alter scowled sharply, her gaze shifting left and then right before focusing on the woman that had first thrown a raw egg at her face. Slowly, she raised a hand, wiped the egg off her cheeks, and then stared at her fingers now sticky with strands of viscous yolk.

She flicked the substance away in utter silence.

Nothing was going right from the start.

Gold coloured eyes narrowed sharply.

"I take it you all wish to die?"