"What details? You met her in life—!"
D'Eon quickly sensed a presence and drew her sword, shielding Marie. Sanson followed suit.
"Stay back, My Queen!"
"Bandits, drawn by the scent of dango, no doubt."
"WHO ARE YOU CALLING BANDITS?! You've got some nerve, you thieves!!"
"Taking things… that belong to others… is stealing!"
Jalter (the Avenger) and the "Barbaric Dragon" (Rikka/Air) burst from the bushes. Their anger and killing intent sent the French team's guards into high alert.
"I won't forgive you! Not only did you gorge yourselves on the dango, but you have the gall to call Rikka a bandit…! No more talk! Burn! Just like the original!!"
"The Dragon Witch…! Stay back, Queen! She is not someone you can reason with!"
"So you've wandered into our path, you fake. I'll settle the debt of France right here!"
"Fake…? I want to tell them that Jalter is Jalter, but…!"
The Sanson and d'Eon here were not from Chaldea; their only "records" were from Orleans. To them, Jalter was nothing but the Dragon Witch.
"My origins don't matter! Rikka, I'm going to shut them up first. It'll be easier to talk once they've calmed down."
"—Right! I'm counting on you, Jalter!"
"A Servant's heart is one with their Master's. Leave it to me!"
While the guards clashed with flying sparks, the atmosphere elsewhere was quite different…
"My! It's the Gorgeous One! Vive la France! A pleasure to see you in such fine spirits!"
Marie, spotting the King of Heroes, ran over and planted a passionate baiser (kiss) on his cheek with the effortless confidence of a Queen.
"Marie is here too! Gil, I think this is just a misunderstanding. Marie is a bit… okay, very… airheaded!"
"So it seems. Though I am surprised she remembers me. To think even a rogue Servant would hold that memory."
It wasn't surprising. For Marie, it was a vivid, radiant memory etched into her soul. The King who had stood against the Evil Dragon and the Witch—the King who had rescued her from certain death on a magnificent ship. He was strong, kind, and brilliant.
"Hello to you too, Mr. Fou! I wonder if the 'me' at your place is doing well?"
Fou, getting his head scratched, looked thoroughly pleased. He was a beast who was weak to Queens and Princesses, after all.
"Fou! (Of course. She is very close friends with my best friend.)"
"Hehe, how cute. And you, my King… have you come to request my company for the night again?"
"That is a tempting offer, but we are here on other business. Actually, back at Chaldea—"
"I see, I see… mhm…"
"I'm so glad. Their bond averted a tragic battle. The days we spent in Orleans weren't in vain…"
While Air and the others were moved to tears, a fierce battle was unfolding just a few steps away.
"Guillotine! Knight! Don't make me laugh! I hate both of those things!"
Jalter manipulated her flames with terrifying precision, directing the heat solely at her two opponents. She fought with a level of care unbefitting an Avenger, ensuring the forest wouldn't catch fire and the surrounding area remained unharmed.
"Do you think this is a game? Do you mock us?! Opposing us with such mere sparks!"
"Is that how it looks to you? As if I'm capable of 'holding back'—!"
She drew her sword, concentrating every ounce of her heat into the blade.
"Haaaaaaah!"
"Don't underestimate me—!"
She didn't bother blocking Sanson's strike. Instead, she swung her sword in a "counter-attack that overpowers the attack."
Sanson's blade, exposed to Jalter's sword—which had become a blade of thermal severance—was snapped and melted in half.
"What—?!"
This was a "battle for neutralization," fought exactly as her Master, Rikka, had requested. To burn away the weapons and leave the opponent disarmed. It was the resolve of an Avenger who had found a salvation beyond hatred.
"Just stay down!!"
She lunged inside his guard.
"GUFHHH—!!!"
Sanson was silenced by a full-power stomach punch delivered with Rank A Strength. He wouldn't be eating anything for a while.
"Gah… cough… damaging the abdomen… causes the diaphragm and organs to spasm… leading to respiratory distress and agony… but because consciousness remains clear… it is called a living hell… guuuhhhhh…!"
"You seem surprisingly talkative for someone in 'hell'… whatever. Now then. Are you ready to talk?"
Jalter stepped on Sanson's back with all her weight. She wouldn't kill him. This wasn't a fight to the death.
"This pervert is neutralized. I'll allow a discussion… but what about you? My 'cool and cute' little knight?"
"Jalter, no taunting!"
"Give me a break, Rikka. It makes my blood boil to think someone might look down on you because we played nice."
D'Eon ignored Jalter's provocation. "Do not mock a Knight of the White Lily. Even if we lose one or two deviants like him…!"
"That's harsh, Chevalier…"
"Fine then—I'll give you exactly what you want—!"
Jalter raised her flag and swung it in a figure-eight. The flag, woven with magical energy, unleashed a wave of scorching heat. A hot wind that felt like it was baking skin, lungs, and organs alike hammered into d'Eon.
"Ugh… ah…!!"
By being with her Master, Jalter had gained vast knowledge, tactics, and the ability to control her own flames. This was another way she used her fire to match Rikka's style—neutralizing the enemy without a slaughter.
Unable to even get close, d'Eon was slowly singed. The difference between a top-tier Servant with a deep bond to their Master and a rogue Servant was laid bare.
"How stubborn. We aren't going to eat you, so just listen to what Rikka has to say."
"We just came to get the dango back! We didn't come to fight!"
Jalter spun her flag like a baton with one hand, increasing the intensity and blowing d'Eon back. The knight slammed into a tree with a short cry.
"Ah—!"
D'Eon's fighting spirit hadn't faded, but her sword had fallen. She reached for it immediately—
"GUUUUUUGH!!"
She couldn't reach it. Jalter had stepped on her right hand with all her might. If d'Eon took her sword, the fight would only continue. Jalter was asserting that the battle was already over.
"Give it up. Game set."
"…You witch…!"
"It's insulting to be insulted by a thief. Now, have you cooled your head? If you still want to fight, I'll crush an arm or a leg and turn you into a pathetic little doll."
"…How… regrettable…"
D'Eon conceded defeat and went limp. Seeing this, Jalter finally took a breath.
(I've become able to fight like this, haven't I? Ah, how nostalgic.)
She remembered when she struggled against mere mobs. Now, she had the luxury to think of tactics. The luxury to follow her Master's orders. The luxury to support Rikka's way of fighting.
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