The first onslaught was successfully resisted, not without trouble or casualties but Chaldea was capable of fighting back, and it was all that mattered. Now, it was all a matter of recovering the world, the way it was done before.
But something didn't feel like before, and that has been rattling the legendary Sherlock Holmes' brain for the last few hours. The principal matter was that of the master. The first thing he did after getting briefed on the situation was to shut himself in the room with the only surviving servant, and everyone in the makeshift base knew what transpired in the bedroom, only by the noises made.
While it was unbecoming of a man of his caliber to dwell on another man's bedroom affairs, this behavior didn't match with his memories. While this whole chain of events could be relativized by the danger these two have gone through, prior to this moment, something else had sent him over the edge. Sherlock knew the Master, there was no doubt about that, yet every time he tried to sort out his memories, his mind felt ill. For someone as aware of his own capabilities as he was, such an anomaly couldn't be explained in any way other than a spell. A rather powerful one at that.
But if the spell theory was the right one, that raised many other questions. Who launched the spell? What was the aim? How could it be countered? And who else is under it? Why does it only affect memories about the master of Chaldea? This man, who insists on being called Stuff, despite the fact it wasn't his name. Was he also a victim of this spell? Or was he the perpetrator?
No matter the answers, this could spell the death of the human effort of reconquest. Holmes was giddy. This was a multi-layered mystery, the paths were numerous, and the clues were few. If it weren't for the resources being scarce, or the reactions the action would cause, he would look for a shot of morphine to collect his thoughts.
This thinking session has been rather insightful, but a conversation with the Master was required to advance this mystery any further. After stretching for a bit, he decided to get up.
"Need to take care of something detective?" This was another issue with this whole ordeal. Holmes has shared this worry of his with his interlocutor, chief of staff Meunière, he grew rather fond of the impressed looks he would receive from the common folk after he exposed his theories, no matter how basic. This is something he got from his lifetime. Ahh, jolly old England.
The conversation with Meunière though, ended up being rather disappointing, it seemed the servant had been one of the more fortunate victims of this spell, the rest of Chaldea's staff went with the new reality of the situation with a lot more ease than he did. He came to the conclusion that the humans among the staff would be useless, making him effectively alone, until Da Vinci Lily was initialized. Yet, he refused to call upon his fellow servant if he could afford to. Not only due to his distaste for team work, but also because one of them needed to be alive to keep fighting the Lostbelts. This is how bad the situation could get.
"Having a conversation with our master. By the way, Meunière, I do hope my modification demands will be met with the highest degree of priority." He replied, displaying a polite smile.
"We're working on it, though I can't help but think this is a weird use of our limited resources." Meunière responded, too focused on some mundane task to spare even a glance to the consultant detective.
"On this I have to ask you to trust me. This may just become a vital part of our fight." The chief of staff didn't look any further into it. If Sherlock Holmes says something is needed, then it probably is.
With joy in his step, the detective walked towards the room. He noted the noise had died down. Well at least all this rutting wasn't an attempt to stall out Holmes. After knocking at the door so as to not catch the youths in some disgraceful act, he slowly opened the door.
