BANG!
The door that had just been violently shut let out another cry of protest as it was kicked open. The combat boot withdrew, but its owner didn't charge in immediately. Instead, there was a commotion of pushing and shoving at the doorway before the homunculus' guardian and hero—Sieg—finally mustered her courage and barged in, blurting out the words he'd prepared.
"Teacher, this isn't right! If you're going to do... that sort of thing, you should just do it to me instead!"
The moment these words left her mouth, they ignited a powder keg.
"What are you saying, Sieg?!" The golden-haired saint jumped in shock, covering her face while peeking through her fingers. "That sort of thing—that sort of thing is absolutely not allowed! Whether it's you or anyone else!"
"Ahem, I don't think Sakatsuki-san would be that kind of person, so... let me take a look..."
"No, sister! As your younger brother, it's my duty to take the risk for you first!"
Caules held back Fiore, who was trying to push her wheelchair forward. But in their agitation, the two ended up in a tangled mess—Caules fell onto his sister, and the wheelchair spun uncontrollably, crashing into Jeanne d'Arc from behind.
"Ah, what—?!"
"Oh no, watch out!"
The sounds alone painted a picture of utter chaos. Like a Newton's cradle, Fiore and Caules came to a stop, but Jeanne let out a startled cry as she was sent tumbling forward—right into Sakatsuki's lap!
At that moment, Sakatsuki was sitting cross-legged on the bed, and Jeanne's position looked eerily similar to certain... unspeakable scenes from questionable videos.
The overwhelming masculine presence short-circuited the inexperienced saint's brain. Dazed, she looked up, meeting Sakatsuki's evasive gaze and the noticeable bob of his Adam's apple.
"...Could you get up now?"
"Ah—ah! My deepest apologies!"
Amidst the pandemonium, the homunculus woman whom Sakatsuki had initially dragged into the room sat perfectly unharmed in a chair by the window, her clothes neat and her demeanor as composed as ever. She greeted the uninvited guests with her usual calm.
"Good evening, Lady Fiore, Lord Caules, Lady Sieg, and Lady Jeanne d'Arc."
Her tone was as casual as if she were reporting the number of bread rolls she wanted for dinner—or perhaps reading names from Death's ledger. Everyone's hair stood on end as a pair of rainbow-blue eyes, brimming with murderous intent, slowly lit up in the darkness.
To Be Continued...
———
Just like Mordred and her Master, after concluding discussions with the Black Faction, Jeanne d'Arc had immediately returned to the church.
For one, as the Ruler, she shouldn't be casually staying with the Black Faction. And secondly... she was just too embarrassed.
Who would've thought that Sakatsuki had merely grabbed a random homunculus and done absolutely nothing to her?
[I was just using her as a reference to test my physical and mental state.]
Remembering Sakatsuki's explanation after he'd disciplined them—and the suddenness of her falling into his lap—Jeanne couldn't help but scrub the windowpane with excessive vigor, oblivious to the fact that she was practically wearing it down.
Humiliating... so humiliating! This was utterly unbecoming of a saint!
How could she have panicked over such a one-sided report?! And Sieg—how could she say something like that?!
If anyone should do it, it should be me...
No, no, what am I thinking?!
Startled by her own thoughts, Jeanne d'Arc felt dizzy and swayed, tumbling off the small stool.
Thud!
"Are you alright, Miss Jeanne?"
Sister Alma, who was in charge of the church, hurried over to find the golden-haired saint on the ground, clutching her bottom with a pained expression—clearly having made a soft landing.
"Oww, that hurts..."
"Oh dear, you really are..."
A short while later, with tears welling in her eyes, Jeanne helped Alma prepare the stew. As she stirred the pot, which was beginning to emit an enticing aroma, Alma, who was baking bread nearby, suddenly spoke up.
"Jeanne, may I ask you something?"
"Of course, what is it?"
"Do you believe in the Lord?"
Hearing such an abrupt question, Jeanne turned her head in stunned silence. Alma wore a slightly puzzled smile as she waited for the girl's response.
"...Of course, I believe."
"Believers shall be saved. That's a phrase often mocked in this world. Does it mean those who don't believe cannot receive the Lord's salvation? Or perhaps the Lord never intended to save them in the first place?"
"Well... the very premise is flawed, isn't it? To seek salvation before the age of suffering has even arrived—that's far too arrogant a thought."
To rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those who weep—that is the fundamental premise of being a believer.
"—I see. Then does that also relate to why you didn't receive salvation?"
The kitchen fell into sudden silence.
Hearing Alma's words, Jeanne silently shook her head as she gazed into the stew pot.
"No, it has nothing to do with me personally. Moreover, the burning at the stake wasn't the result of failing to receive God's salvation. That... was a fate I chose for myself."
The stew was finally ready.
...Alma seemed to be a supervisor from the Holy Church, tasked with monitoring the Yggdmillennia clan. Her duty was to report any suspicious activity immediately, but in its absence, she fulfilled her role as a nun in the church. Though it wasn't an easy task, in the twenty years since her appointment, nothing noteworthy had occurred.
The drastic changes in the actions of the Yggdmillennia began a few months prior. Relatives gathered from all over the world, nightly rituals, vast quantities of materials transported into the city, and clear traces of powerful magecraft being used.
And at this critical juncture, a traveler who called herself 'Jeanne,' resembling the holy maiden herself, knocked on the church's door.
"Since when did you know about me?"
"At first, I thought you might be a magus from Yggdmillennia—after all, this city rarely gets visitors. But afterward, when I received word, I was quite shocked."
"Hmm, if you thought I was a magus, why did you still allow me to stay here?"
"Oh, because that's irrelevant, isn't it? Our doors have always been open to those who seek help in this church."
Seeing Alma's graceful smile, Jeanne couldn't help but smile in return.
After revealing their identities, the exchange of information between the two proceeded quite smoothly—Jeanne d'Arc learned that the Holy Church, aside from the incident of the rogue overseer they had dispatched, knew nothing else and had no intention of interfering in the Holy Grail War, choosing instead to continue observing. Meanwhile, Alma received Jeanne's promise that she would handle the matter perfectly.
As dinner—or rather, late-night supper—drew to a close, Jeanne couldn't help but ask:
"...Um, may I ask one last thing?"
"Hmm? What is it?"
"Why did you go out of your way to reveal your identity to me? While it wouldn't cause any conflict, it wasn't really necessary, was it?"
"Oh my, you've forgotten something very important, Jeanne."
Facing the puzzled girl, Alma flashed a mischievous smile:
"Jeanne d'Arc, you are the great saint who brought light to this world. Isn't it only natural to want to speak with someone like you?"
"Eh, ah, um... I suppose that's one way to look at it. But, well... calling me a great saint or saying I brought light to the world feels a bit exaggerated..."
Jeanne lowered her head shyly. Indeed, her true name held considerable renown in the world—otherwise, she wouldn't have been summoned here as a Servant.
But hearing someone express such admiration for her so directly gave her a strange, ticklish feeling in her heart, though the emotion soon faded.
"Still, that guy didn't seem the least bit enthusiastic about me..."
"Hmm?"
"Ah! N-never mind, it's nothing, really! I was just saying the food was delicious today, though I'd rather have his... I mean, no, forget I said that, sorry!"
Watching the flustered saint wave her hands in panic, Alma narrowed her eyes thoughtfully.
After dinner and prayers, Alma opened a hidden compartment in the desk and retrieved the Church's journal to record the day's events.
"Ownership of Black Faction's Saber transferred. Homunculus forms alliance with the Yggdmillennia. No new movements from the Hanging Gardens..."
The pen paused briefly, ink bleeding slightly, but soon resumed its smooth strokes.
"Saint Jeanne d'Arc appears to be falling in love..."
Alma's hand froze mid-sentence. Then, as if struck by sudden inspiration, she tore out the page and murmured to herself:
"No, what's wrong with that?"
The candlelight cast flickering shadows on the wall as the sound of tearing paper filled the room. The figure hunched over the desk and began writing anew.
"Today, nothing of note occurred..."