Chapter 17: Coffins, Cuddles, and Unfathomable Plans
This sensation…
She couldn't feel the sun. But it was like lying in a field of soft grass… if that field were weirdly cramped. Also, it smelled funny.
Jeanne's eyes fluttered open. The flickering light of a few candles illuminated the narrow space, casting long, dancing shadows that gave the whole place a distinct 'low-budget horror movie' vibe. She couldn't see anyone directly, but she could hear things. A low, muttered monologue. The distinct, dry click-clack of bones being handled. And an underlying smell of… spoiled food? And earth. Lots of damp earth.
Confused, she tried to move her arm. It bumped against something cold and unyielding—wood. Her fingers, exploring, brushed against something smooth and cylindrical. On instinct, she picked it up and held it before her bleary eyes.
It was a femur. A human thigh bone, clean and pale in the candlelight.
"GYAAAAH!"
Jeanne shrieked, bolting upright. A clump of dried grass that had been tangled in her golden hair went flying.
"Whoa! What's the big idea? You scared me!" Mordred complained, looking up from the human skull she was making 'talk' by working its jaw with her fingers.
"You scared? I nearly launched a Hydra embryo across the room!" Kairi Sisigou snapped, carefully setting down a pair of long tweezers. He clutched his chest, taking deep, steadying breaths. On the workbench before him, a small, writhing, serpentine thing in a jar of murky fluid slowly settled down.
"Where… what is this…" Jeanne muttered, patting the narrow, padded space around her. Then her brain fully processed the dimensions. Her eyes went wide, and she practically launched herself out of it. "A COFFIN?!"
She was right. She'd been lying in a plain, wooden coffin, lined with what looked like fresh straw and a few old blankets. It was, disturbingly, a near-perfect fit.
"Evening," Cyd said with a casual wave from where he sat on a battered old armchair.
"G-good evening… That is NOT the issue! Why was I in a coffin?!" Jeanne yelped, carefully placing the femur back inside as if it were a sleeping kitten.
"Relax, the previous owner doesn't mind," Mordred said, hefting the skull.
"Have some respect for the dead!" Jeanne snatched the skull from Mordred's hands and reverently placed it back in the coffin beside the femur. She clasped her hands, bowing her head. "My apologies for disturbing your rest."
"Boring!" Mordred pouted, flopping onto the dusty stone floor and rolling around like a petulant child who'd had her toy taken.
"Hey!" Kairi yelped, jumping back as Mordred nearly crashed into his legs. "I'm working with extremely volatile materials here! Can everyone please stop with the sudden movements and screaming?!"
"Master, stop playing with your little toys. Let's go find some Black faction losers to smash!" Mordred sprang up and grabbed Kairi's arm, trying to haul him away from the cluttered workbench covered in jars, bones, and alchemical equipment.
"Patience! I need to finish this batch!" Kairi sighed, the picture of a beleaguered single father dealing with a superhumanly strong toddler.
Cyd, seemingly unperturbed by the chaos, gently patted the head of the small figure curled up on his lap. "Anyway, based on the… let's call it 'intel'… I picked up on the way here, I might need to ask you two for a favor."
"Before that…" Mordred pointed an accusing finger at the small, cloaked figure nestled against Cyd. The figure was motionless, seemingly asleep. It had long, violet hair peeking out from the hood. "…What the hell is that?"
"The Red Archer's Master," Cyd said, blinking innocently.
"You're kidding me! She was a full-grown woman five minutes ago! Now she's pocket-sized! That's not something humans can do!" Mordred's outburst perfectly mirrored Kairi's internal monologue. Seeing the tall, imposing violet-haired woman seemingly shrink into a child had nearly made him choke on his own spit. The terrifying, instinct-warning aura, however, had not diminished one bit.
"I never said I was human," the small figure murmured. She lifted her head, and for a split second, her eyes glowed with a faint, mystical purple light from within the hood's shadow. Mordred instinctively flinched and took half a step back, putting Kairi between herself and the child.
"A non-human species?!" Jeanne gasped. Is this the anomaly causing the war's irregularities?
"My current legal identity is that of a magus," the child—Medusa—said slowly. She fumbled within her oversized black robes and produced a laminated ID card, holding it up. It had a recent photo of her (in her adult form) and the name 'MEDUSA' printed in bold letters.
"That's… gotta be a forgery," Kairi said, wiping his hands on a rag.
"A simple charm on the clerk was sufficient," Medusa replied, tucking the ID away and snuggling deeper into Cyd's lap, pulling the hood further over her face.
"You… you can't actually be the Medusa. From the myths," Kairi breathed, his mind racing back to the ancient tablet image of Cyd, the shadow at his feet…
Medusa didn't confirm or deny it. But the easy, familiar way Cyd held her, and her own casual demeanor around him, spoke of a long-standing acquaintance. Eliminating all other possibilities, the remaining answer, however impossible, had to be the truth. They were in the presence of a monster who had not only lived through, but survived, the end of the Age of Gods.
"This is too abnormal!" Jeanne declared, finding her voice. "A monster from the Age of Gods surviving to the present and participating in a Holy Grail War? It's completely outside the rules!"
Medusa lifted her head just enough to give Jeanne a flat, unimpressed look from under her hood. Then she dropped her head again, dismissing the Saint entirely.
"She has Command Spells. She was selected as a Master by the Grail system. That makes her a legitimate participant. No rules are broken," Cyd said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "The system doesn't check for species, only for magical potential and a wish."
"But… it's not fair to the other participants!" Jeanne spluttered, unable to articulate a better argument.
Kairi found himself nodding in silent agreement. Facing a legendary horror with millennia of experience, who arguably didn't even need a Servant… It shifted the goalposts from 'winning' to 'surviving.'
"The Holy Grail War isn't about fairness, it's about results," Cyd said, his voice taking on a harder edge. He idly ruffled Medusa's hair. "Our job is to prevent the exposure of Mystery. What happens between consenting Masters and Servants in the shadows is their business. And in a way, I've already helped the other Masters."
"How?!" Jeanne asked, baffled.
"By keeping her occupied and… somewhat agreeable. Otherwise, she might have decided to end this war in a single afternoon." He tapped Medusa's nose. "I told you back at the Black fortress, didn't I? You didn't wipe your memory when you passed out, did you?"
"I did not! It's just… this has never happened before in any recorded Grail War!" Jeanne's voice rose in frustration.
"A war with seven Servants on each side, overseen by two Rulers, hadn't happened before either," Cyd pointed out with a shrug. "Seems like a week for firsts."
Jeanne's shoulders slumped. Defeated, she shuffled to a dusty corner of the tomb-turned-workshop, sat down, and began drawing aimless circles in the grime with her finger. She should have known. In a battle of logical debate, she was hopelessly outmatched by the ancient hero.
"Anyway, let's ignore the village maiden for a moment," Cyd said, poking Medusa's cheek. "Did you call her over?"
"She's on her way," Medusa murmured. She lifted a small, pale hand from within her robes. A red Command Spell—one of the three intricate symbols on the back—glowed faintly. "By the power of my Command Spell, I order you: Appear before me now, Archer."
Kairi's jaw dropped. You use a Command Spell for a SUMMON?!
A shower of golden spiritrons coalesced in the center of the cramped space. Atalanta, the Archer of Red, materialized. She was holding a rolled-up newspaper and wore an expression of profound exasperation.
"I was already right outside the cemetery gates!" she snapped, her cat-like ears twitching in irritation.
"This was faster," Medusa said simply, shifting to get more comfortable.
"Command Spells are a vital strategic resource! You don't waste them on convenience!" Atalanta's tail lashed behind her.
"I can solo this entire war. The Command Spells are just for formal entry," Medusa retorted, her voice muffled by Cyd's jacket. "I didn't even want to summon you. You're in the way."
Kairi silently lit a cigarette and took a long, slow drag, letting the smoke cloud his thoughts. His primary objective had just officially shifted from 'victory' to 'not getting turned to stone, eaten, or otherwise annihilated by the bored primordial entity in the room.'
"Right, right. Atalanta, did you bring the thing?" Cyd asked, gently pinching Medusa's cheek.
"Here. Your requested 'intel'." Atalanta pulled a tightly bound roll of newspapers from her quiver and tossed it to Cyd. She then plopped down on the floor next to his chair, fixing Medusa with a wary, competitive stare.
"Thanks. Now, the plan," Cyd said, unrolling the newspapers. The headlines were in Romanian, but the pictures told a story: grainy, blurry shots of shadowy figures, reports of strange animal deaths, and a general air of unease in the town. "We need to pay a visit to the Black faction's Assassin. Based on this and the local gossip I 'overheard', I think he's… malfunctioning. If we don't intervene, he's going to blow the lid off the whole 'Mystery' thing. Probably in a very messy, public way."
"What?! When did you figure this out?!" Jeanne exclaimed, scrambling to her feet.
"While you were taking your beauty sleep," Cyd said, a smug grin spreading across his face. He held up the newspaper. "That's right. While you were busy dropping the ball and passing out, I was doing the actual job!"
"You don't have to say it twice!"