For each Master, a Servant. For each Servant, a Master. The relic system was never introduced, and every Master in the Grail Wars has always received a Servant based on their own personality alone. Now, the Magus Killer goes to war - and receives his greatest weapon yet. But even with all of Assassin's skill and treachery, can they stand against the raw power of the Fourth War?
A Poisoned Chalice (Fate/Zero, Fate/Grand Order)
- Thread starter Rob Rimsill
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Chapter 1 - Contact
- Location
- Probably at sea
Hello all! I'm, tentatively, taking the step of crossposting my stories over from FFnet. We'll start with this, the Fate fic I'm currently working on, and see how it goes. For anyone who would like to see what else I've done, here is my profile on that site. Without further ado, then, please enjoy:
Her sense of smell was the first to come in, as she took her first breath in over five hundred years. She kept her eyes closed, savouring the taste. Sweet, so sweet, she'd almost forgotten just how good the air could smell. Was this how it had been, before?
It couldn't last, and the stolen air rushed out in a soft sigh. When she breathed in again, eager to taste unsullied air again, it was too late. A tinge of acid, a sour chemical tang that was all too familiar. She sighed. It wasn't like she wasn't used to the taste of the tainted air she breathed out. Still, it was almost worth being summoned just so she could pretend she was only a girl again. If only for a moment.
Touch was next, as she felt cold smooth stone against her bare feet. She knelt anyway, lowering her head. Having never been summoned before, she didn't really know the correct rituals and protocols, but the closest thing to a Master was probably a client, and so she would show the proper deference. Opening her eyes – not that her Master would be able to tell, under the skull mask she wore as both identity concealment and badge of office – she risked a look around.
A church – or perhaps a chapel? She wouldn't know, naturally, although she had been tasked to kill more than one priest or bishop or cardinal visiting their 'holy land'. It didn't matter. Even if her Master didn't share her faith, they were still her Master. She peeked up, head still bowed, and looked at him.
Or them, rather.
Two people stood before her. One was a woman, with pale, pale skin, silver-white hair and red eyes. Not human, she saw. Not many would have noticed, but she had had to kill so many creatures that played at being human that the signs were obvious to her. A certain perfection of form, perhaps, that spoke of craft rather than the true creations of God. And the other…
A killer. Plain to see, for those who knew how. It was the eyes, dull and impassive as they may have seemed, that gave it away first. She saw how they roved over her form, and not in the way that most men's did. Face, then hips, then most of the way back up, yes, and she saw the minute widening of eyes, but it wasn't the lust she usually inspired and expected. This killer looked to her eyes for a first indication of killing intent, then to where her knives were kept. Then, rather than her chest – not that she was especially impressive in that area anyway – he watched her shoulders, in case she should suddenly attack.
And then he blinked, and simply regarded her impassively once more. She nodded. Yes. He would do.
She'd looked him over in almost exactly the same way, of course. The woman too. The woman was unarmed, but the killer had something hidden in the folds of his black outer garment (an overcoat, whispered the Grail in her mind), that from the size and shape was probably a modern firearm. There was also a knife strapped to his calf just above his right boot, and the rest of the pack of cigarettes was in the left breast pocket of his shirt.
It wasn't that she considered him a threat, or had any intention of poisoning his cigarettes. It was just that she couldn't help herself from noticing. She had been trained far, far too well to ever just see people as people and not threats or targets.
The killer raised his hand, showing his Command Spells, and she spoke for the first time – the oath she gave every client.
"Everything, everything, everything as you would will it. I will offer all of myself to you. This body, this heart, all of it…"
That done, she awaited her Master's reply.
"Your name and Class?" he asked.
"I am Hassan-i-Sabbah, your Assassin, Master."
Her Master nodded, as though he expected such a reply. "The Old Man of the Mountain, head of the order that gave their name to the word assassin. I suppose the legends have distorted with time. You are neither old nor a man."
"You are currently on a mountain though," said the woman behind him. When he turned to look at her, she grumbled, "Just saying."
"All the heads of the order, no matter their name before they were chosen, became Hassan-i-Sabbah," said Assassin. "Though, I do not remember what my name was… if you call me Hassan, I will be pleased to answer. It makes no difference."
"Well, we can't just go around calling you Hassan," said the woman in white with a pout. "That's not cute at all! Wasn't there anything else you were called?"
Assassin frowned, behind the skull mask. Whether or not her name was cute or not had literally never entered her head. She glanced at her Master, but he said nothing. Well, if he didn't disagree, she had no reason to disobey this woman, clearly an associate of her Master.
"When I was confirmed as the head of the order, and first took the name of Hassan-i-Sabbah, I was given a title to separate me from the previous head. He was Hassan of the Dreadful Wild, for his skill with beasts; I was Hassan of the Serenity, for mine with poison."
"Serenity…" said the woman. "What do you think, Kiritsugu?"
Her Master – Kiritsugu – gave a barely-noticeable shrug. "I had planned to simply call you Assassin, unless you have any objections." Assassin shook her head. "Then, do you object to Iri calling you Serenity? I doubt I can stop her, but if you really don't like it…"
Assassin shook her head again. "It makes no difference. Hassan or Serenity, I am still your Servant Assassin. I am yours to do with as you will – what you call me is a small thing next to this." There was no need for any attachment to a name that was never hers, after all.
Kiritsugu nodded, but the woman – Iri – groaned. "Ugh, you're both hopeless. I knew she was going to be like you, but I didn't think she'd share your boring pragmatism too. Kiri, I'm taking care of her. If I have anything to say about it, she won't turn out like you and be so dour all the time. We're fighting to save the world, for goodness' sake!"
There was just a twitch of a smile on Kiritsugu's face. "You realise that she's already dead? She can't 'turn out' any different from me, because her story was already completed centuries ago."
"Shh, you! I'm not listening to any more of your nonsense. Serenity, dear, come with me and we'll see if we can find you something a bit more cheerful than those dreary things you've got on to wear…" Iri made to take Assassin's hand – only to recoil when Assassin flinched backwards to avoid it, scooting backwards until she was a safe distance from her Master's partner.
Iri kept her hand out a moment, then dropped it down by her side, looking concerned. "Oh – did I scare you, Serenity? I'm sorry-"
"No!" said Assassin. "It is I who should be sorry. Master, Iri, it is important that you never, ever touch me. To do so is death, certain as sunrise." She drew her knees up against her chest. "Everyone who touches me dies. Even my breath will kill eventually. For your own safety, Master, Iri, please…" she forced herself to say it, "please stay away."
Illysaviel von Einzbern was in a huff.
These days, everyone seemed to be busy with something, and didn't have any time to play with her. Even Papa! When she'd asked what was so important that even the homc… the homuc… that even the maids were brushing her off, Papa had just got that uncomfortable expression he always got when she asked him about his work, and told her the news; that he'd be going away soon, along with Mama.
"But why?" Illya had whined.
"It's important, Illya. There's a lot of people who need help, and if your mama and I work very hard, we can save all of them. But we can't do it here, so we're going to have to leave. Just for a little while."
Illya pouted. Not because she was actually sulking – she was eight, not five – but because she'd worked out that whenever she did all the grownups, even Papa, were a lot more likely to let her have her way. She'd perfected it through years of trial and error, until the castle maids were basically putty in her hands.
It was technically lying, but it was with your face not your voice so it didn't really count, and it made it so much easier to get what you were after. (Illya took after her father much more than her mother, in almost everything but looks.)
"Can I come with you?" she pleaded. "I'll be really good…"
"No." And that was that. There was no arguing with Papa when he made that face, the one that was all hard and cold and scary.
On the off chance it might help, she'd gone to Mama as well, but didn't really expect it to work – despite how he looked, Papa was the soft touch most of the time. And, sure enough, Mama had just pulled Illya into a hug and told her to be good for Grandfather Acht while they were away.
Illya had agreed, obviously. It wasn't like she was planning to be bad for Grandfather, that was just stupid and the funny man from the Magus Association had gone home in pieces when he'd made Grandfather angry.
(Literally, in pieces. Still alive pieces, delivered one by one over the course of months. His head had gone last, and Illya had had great fun taking it on tours of the castle, especially once the lungs were disconnected and it stopped making that annoying wheezy screamy noise. Illya had sulked for days when the maids had gently but firmly pulled Prince Headward out of her hands and finally sent him home.)
Anyway, of course she wasn't going to make trouble for Grandfather, because she didn't plan to be in the castle at all. Papa leaving was bad enough, but he did that all the time and Illya had gotten used to it. Taking Mama, though? She'd be left with just the maids to play with, and they were boring. No, Illya was going, whether her parents liked it or not.
It wasn't quite true to say that Illya had never been out of the castle, but certainly she'd never been out of its sight. Still, going with her parents shouldn't be all that hard. Papa always took these big bags with him, and she knew they weren't the ones he packed his clothes in because he always made a game with her out of deciding what to wear on his trips. So they couldn't be anything really important.
Illya would sneak into Papa's room while he was out (she'd seen him talking very seriously with Mama in the study while looking at all kinds of boring-looking papers with little photos of people clipped on, and they looked like they'd take a while), and pack a bunch of her stuff into the bags. Then she'd hide in there just before her parents left, and by the time they realised she'd come along they'd probably be halfway there already.
Maybe she should take some snacks and books too, because Illya wasn't sure how far away this Fuyuki place really was. It could be a whole hour away.
The door to her parents' room wasn't locked – who would steal anything out here in this castle? – but Illya still felt like she was trespassing when she stepped in with a small bag of clothes and other travel stuff. There was a cold, creepy feeling in the room that she'd never felt before, even though the sun was shining brightly through the window.
Illya shook it off and marched in anyway. No-one was there, the room was deserted. It wasn't the time for the maids to clean, and they knew better than to wander in. No-one was watching her. Now, where would Papa put his other bags…
She found them under the bed – with how large it was, there was plenty of space. Grinning in triumph, she crawled underneath and started to drag the bags out so she could hide her stuff properly.
The bed creaked. Illya jumped, and darted out from under the bed and looked around. There was still no-one there. Eyeing the bed suspiciously, as though it was deliberately playing a trick on her, she retrieved the bags, and unzipped them.
When she saw what was inside, she huffed in frustration. The bags Papa always took with him were filled with guns. No fair – she wasn't allowed to touch Papa's guns, that was the one thing he'd ever ever shouted at her for.
So she needed some way of hiding herself and her things in the bag without touching the guns. Maybe there was some kind of pulley system she could rig using the bedsheets....
"You… should be elsewhere, child…"
llya shrieked and spun on the spot at the unexpected voice behind her. Her feet caught on the bag and she tripped, landing on her butt and facing the bed. Crouched on one corner like a spider was a grown-up, a woman with dark skin wearing a tight dark costume and a mask shaped like a skull. Illya scooted backwards until her back hit the wall, staring. The woman had definitely, definitely not been in the room five seconds ago.
"Ah, child… Illyasviel, yes?" said the woman. "Illyasviel, I am sorry for startling you. I work for your father."
Oh. Well, that did explain it. Papa did mention he occasionally worked with people.
(Illya liked to think of herself as pragmatic and cynical. However, it was hard to get good at being sceptical and spotting lies when you lived in a castle full of people who had no reason to lie to you. In fact, the only person who deceived Illyasviel regularly was her father, and then only in ways like going outside during a game of hide and seek and explaining afterward that they'd never agreed that it was out of bounds – despite Illya being forbidden to go outside without permission. So Illya was quite gullible, even for an eight-year-old.)
"Are you Auntie Maiya?" asked Illya. "That's the only person I know who works with Papa but she's never visited, because she and Mama don't get on."
"No. I am not Hisau Maiya. I am the Servant Assassin. You may call me Serenity."
"A Servant!" Illya's eyes shone, all previous fear forgotten. All Einzberns knew about Servants, of course. In many ways, the entire family was geared towards the summoning and use of Servants in the Holy Grail War. Seeing one in the flesh – well, spirit-flesh – was like seeing your life's work and also a superhero and a princess all at the same time. Then Illya made the connection. "The Grail War? That's what Papa's up to? Geez, he could have just said…" She crossed her arms, pouted (for real this time), and glared at the floor.
The Servant – Serenity – tilted her head. "Have I upset you? I am sorry…"
"No, it's not you – well, you made me fall over, and that hurt, but I'm not cross about that. It's because I definitely can't go with Papa and Mama now. I want to but… I get it. It's too dangerous." She lifted her head. "I'm hardly going to see them before they go, there's too much to do, and Mama won't be coming back, and Papa might- Papa might…" She sniffed, and hated herself for it.
Serenity paused, then lifted her hands to her mask and slowly removed it. Her eyes were huge and dark underneath, and full of concern for her Master's child. "Illyasviel, I will do my best to make sure your father is safe. While I am alive, none shall approach him without my knowing."
Illya smiled, eyes watery. "You'll keep him safe? Promise?"
"I promise."
"Pinky swear?"
Serenity frowned in confusion. "Pinky… swear?"
"Yeah!" Illya got up and crossed to in front of the Servant. "When you make a promise, and you link you pinkies, it's sealed for life. It's like a Geas, but it doesn't need any magic. Pinky swear you'll keep Papa safe." She reached for Serenity's hand, to show her, but the Servant pulled away, folding her hands under her armpits.
"That… would not be wise. But I can offer my oath, and my word. I will protect your father's life as though it were my own – as though it were more than my own. I promise, you will see your father again, Illyasviel."
Illya frowned sceptically. "I don't know. If it's not a pinky swear, I don't know if I can trust it. Let's see, let's see… oh! You're Assassin, right? That means you kill for money?"
"I worry about why you know that… but yes."
"Then…" Illya fumbled in her pockets, and eventually came up with a fistful of grubby change. "I'm hiring you! I know it's probably not a lot but… two Deutsche Marks, to kill everyone that's trying to hurt Papa?"
Serenity was still for a moment, mouth open in surprise. "Life and death are important things, Illyasviel, and not so cheap as that… but then, I have never taken a contract to protect another. Very well. The bargain is struck. Your father's life preserved, for two Marks." Serenity bowed her head. "I have never once broken a contract, lady Einzbern. I shall not start now."
Illya nodded in satisfaction. "Okay. Okay. If I can't go, you'll have to go in my place. Papa's very good at what he does, but he can't be all careful all the time." She drew herself up, and tried her best to sound regal, and impressive – like Grandfather when he addressed the family. "Watch him, protect him. You made a promise, we made a deal!"
At that, Serenity's lips twitched in a tiny, tiny smile.
---
"A troublesome Servant to handle, to be sure," said Jubstacheit von Einzbern, stroking his white beard. "One stray gesture, one careless touch, one moment of passion from either of you and your life is forfeit. Are you sure you're up to this, Magus Killer?"
"Yes." There wasn't anything more to say, apparently. The only sound in the old man's study was the dull roar and crackle of the fireplace, which cast everything in the grand old room into shadow and orange glow. Acht sat in his great leather armchair, while Emiya Kiritsugu had chosen to remain standing in the centre of the room. At the door, and standing almost unnoticeably by the walls, were attendant homunculi – servants and bodyguards both, with their heavy halberds within easy reach.
Here, in his place of power, the Einzbern patriarch was one of the most… unassailable men alive. As essentially a hired gun, Emiya was not allowed to go armed in his presence, and had left his Thompson Contender and Calico with an associate before coming to work for the Einzberns. That said, he still kept a personal handgun, and this he had surrendered to the waiting guards, who had locked it in a steel case outside the room.
This was more a gesture of respect to the man feared by mages all over the world, and more a result of Acht's understandable paranoia as head of one of the most distinguished magus families in the Association, than it was for actual security purposes. Even if the Magus Killer had been armed, the waiting homunculi would have run him through before he could even raise his weapon.
After all, Acht was very familiar with how his family's chosen weapon for the Fourth Grail War operated.
When Acht realised Emiya wasn't going to say any more, he chuckled drily. "Well, you would know best, I suppose. And how is the Servant herself? I will admit to… disappointment. I had hoped, given your reputation, for some great warrior who laid low many sorcerers and witches. St George, perhaps, or King Arthur… well, it can't be helped. Sometimes I think it may have been wiser for the Founders to implement the Relic system after all."
"I am entirely satisfied with Assassin. More so than with a hero. Our strengths match perfectly, as do our outlooks." Three facts, three statements. As ever, Emiya showed no emotion, even when arguing with his employer. Acht would have found it creepy, if he hadn't seen a hundred like Emiya come and go. However they acted, mercenaries were all the same. In the end, all that mattered was whether they turned out useful to the Einzbern family.
"As expected. That was why the Founders chose to have the heroic spirit match the Master, in the end." That, and at the time the Tohsaka and Makiri were set to become far richer than the Einzbern. Allowing any hero to be summoned by any master based on the relic they were able to procure would have turned the Grail War into a game of resources, or so the heads of the three families who created the Heaven's Feel Ritual had reasoned at the time. The richer family could simply acquire the greatest relics from the greatest heroes, and secure an advantage from the very start.
Instead, the summoning ritual was created so as to accept only one sympathetic link to select a heroic spirit from the Throne of Heroes – the prospective Masters themselves. Each Master called to whichever hero was closest to their own personality. Sadly, attempts to stack the deck by 'grooming' a candidate in such a way to attract a specific hero were futile. The Greater Grail awarded Command Spells as it pleased, and all such attempts had resulted in someone entirely different being selected as a Master.
Honestly, the Einzberns were lucky that Emiya Kiritsugu had managed to acquire the Command Spells.
"If you're satisfied, then I can only let you do your job," said Acht. "I do hope, for your sake, this Assassin is up to snuff."
"She is," said Kiritsugu.
"Really? From what you've said she seems lacklustre indeed, poison or no. I've no doubt she could take on every one of the family homunculi and win, but against another Servant, she'll stand no chance in a straight fight." The system that ranked Servants one against the other was ill-understood even by the Einzberns, who'd created the system in the first place, but it was possible for a Master to get a rough idea of how strong a given Servant was by using a form of limited clairvoyance.
Assassin was… underwhelming.
"Correct. That is why I don't intend to have her engage in any straight fights with other Servants."
Acht smirked. "You do realise this is supposed to be a Holy Grail War, Emiya? At some point you're going to have to fight someone. Even if you let all the other Servants defeat each other, all it will do is leave the strongest Servant standing. How will Assassin cope then?"
"Just like this, of course," Emiya said. He didn't gesture, but his eyes flickered to a spot behind Acht. Acht turned.
Standing directly behind his chair, hand outstretched as though to caress his cheek, was Assassin.
Acht stiffened in his seat. He was long past such undignified responses as startling or shouting in surprise – but his aging heart raced in his chest like it hadn't for decades. In the darkness, in her dark clothes, Assassin appeared as little more than a floating skull, grinning like the Grim Reaper himself.
How long had she been there?
For a frozen instant they remained like that, murderer and magus, in some macabre tableau, so very nearly touching. Then Assassin withdrew her hand, and retreated into the darkness once more, disappearing in a soft bloom of shadow.
Acht turned back to Emiya, and thought about how easily he'd been brought within a literal inch of dying. Inside his own room in his own castle, surrounded by combat-spec homunculi. Emiya stood there, saying nothing.
"I see your point," Acht said. "But mark me, Magus Killer – don't assume it will be so easy disposing of the enemy Masters. Unlike me, they will have Servants of their own. And each and every one of them knows that Servant Assassin could be coming for their heads. Not when, not how, but you've lost the element of surprise before the War's even begun. Simply striking from the shadows won't work forever. They'll know you're coming. They'll be ready."
"Of course," said Emiya. He held out a hand, and Assassin materialised at his side to place his handgun in it. The fact that it had been locked away under constant supervision didn't seem to have mattered, apparently.
"That's where I come in."
---
For each Master, a Servant. For each Servant, a Master.
Two reluctant killers.
Two aimless weapons.
Two dignified leaders.
Two dedicated protectors.
Two loyal nobles.
Two genius newcomers.
Two wild beasts.
May the Grail choose the worthy.
Chapter 1 - Contact
Her sense of smell was the first to come in, as she took her first breath in over five hundred years. She kept her eyes closed, savouring the taste. Sweet, so sweet, she'd almost forgotten just how good the air could smell. Was this how it had been, before?
It couldn't last, and the stolen air rushed out in a soft sigh. When she breathed in again, eager to taste unsullied air again, it was too late. A tinge of acid, a sour chemical tang that was all too familiar. She sighed. It wasn't like she wasn't used to the taste of the tainted air she breathed out. Still, it was almost worth being summoned just so she could pretend she was only a girl again. If only for a moment.
Touch was next, as she felt cold smooth stone against her bare feet. She knelt anyway, lowering her head. Having never been summoned before, she didn't really know the correct rituals and protocols, but the closest thing to a Master was probably a client, and so she would show the proper deference. Opening her eyes – not that her Master would be able to tell, under the skull mask she wore as both identity concealment and badge of office – she risked a look around.
A church – or perhaps a chapel? She wouldn't know, naturally, although she had been tasked to kill more than one priest or bishop or cardinal visiting their 'holy land'. It didn't matter. Even if her Master didn't share her faith, they were still her Master. She peeked up, head still bowed, and looked at him.
Or them, rather.
Two people stood before her. One was a woman, with pale, pale skin, silver-white hair and red eyes. Not human, she saw. Not many would have noticed, but she had had to kill so many creatures that played at being human that the signs were obvious to her. A certain perfection of form, perhaps, that spoke of craft rather than the true creations of God. And the other…
A killer. Plain to see, for those who knew how. It was the eyes, dull and impassive as they may have seemed, that gave it away first. She saw how they roved over her form, and not in the way that most men's did. Face, then hips, then most of the way back up, yes, and she saw the minute widening of eyes, but it wasn't the lust she usually inspired and expected. This killer looked to her eyes for a first indication of killing intent, then to where her knives were kept. Then, rather than her chest – not that she was especially impressive in that area anyway – he watched her shoulders, in case she should suddenly attack.
And then he blinked, and simply regarded her impassively once more. She nodded. Yes. He would do.
She'd looked him over in almost exactly the same way, of course. The woman too. The woman was unarmed, but the killer had something hidden in the folds of his black outer garment (an overcoat, whispered the Grail in her mind), that from the size and shape was probably a modern firearm. There was also a knife strapped to his calf just above his right boot, and the rest of the pack of cigarettes was in the left breast pocket of his shirt.
It wasn't that she considered him a threat, or had any intention of poisoning his cigarettes. It was just that she couldn't help herself from noticing. She had been trained far, far too well to ever just see people as people and not threats or targets.
The killer raised his hand, showing his Command Spells, and she spoke for the first time – the oath she gave every client.
"Everything, everything, everything as you would will it. I will offer all of myself to you. This body, this heart, all of it…"
That done, she awaited her Master's reply.
"Your name and Class?" he asked.
"I am Hassan-i-Sabbah, your Assassin, Master."
Her Master nodded, as though he expected such a reply. "The Old Man of the Mountain, head of the order that gave their name to the word assassin. I suppose the legends have distorted with time. You are neither old nor a man."
"You are currently on a mountain though," said the woman behind him. When he turned to look at her, she grumbled, "Just saying."
"All the heads of the order, no matter their name before they were chosen, became Hassan-i-Sabbah," said Assassin. "Though, I do not remember what my name was… if you call me Hassan, I will be pleased to answer. It makes no difference."
"Well, we can't just go around calling you Hassan," said the woman in white with a pout. "That's not cute at all! Wasn't there anything else you were called?"
Assassin frowned, behind the skull mask. Whether or not her name was cute or not had literally never entered her head. She glanced at her Master, but he said nothing. Well, if he didn't disagree, she had no reason to disobey this woman, clearly an associate of her Master.
"When I was confirmed as the head of the order, and first took the name of Hassan-i-Sabbah, I was given a title to separate me from the previous head. He was Hassan of the Dreadful Wild, for his skill with beasts; I was Hassan of the Serenity, for mine with poison."
"Serenity…" said the woman. "What do you think, Kiritsugu?"
Her Master – Kiritsugu – gave a barely-noticeable shrug. "I had planned to simply call you Assassin, unless you have any objections." Assassin shook her head. "Then, do you object to Iri calling you Serenity? I doubt I can stop her, but if you really don't like it…"
Assassin shook her head again. "It makes no difference. Hassan or Serenity, I am still your Servant Assassin. I am yours to do with as you will – what you call me is a small thing next to this." There was no need for any attachment to a name that was never hers, after all.
Kiritsugu nodded, but the woman – Iri – groaned. "Ugh, you're both hopeless. I knew she was going to be like you, but I didn't think she'd share your boring pragmatism too. Kiri, I'm taking care of her. If I have anything to say about it, she won't turn out like you and be so dour all the time. We're fighting to save the world, for goodness' sake!"
There was just a twitch of a smile on Kiritsugu's face. "You realise that she's already dead? She can't 'turn out' any different from me, because her story was already completed centuries ago."
"Shh, you! I'm not listening to any more of your nonsense. Serenity, dear, come with me and we'll see if we can find you something a bit more cheerful than those dreary things you've got on to wear…" Iri made to take Assassin's hand – only to recoil when Assassin flinched backwards to avoid it, scooting backwards until she was a safe distance from her Master's partner.
Iri kept her hand out a moment, then dropped it down by her side, looking concerned. "Oh – did I scare you, Serenity? I'm sorry-"
"No!" said Assassin. "It is I who should be sorry. Master, Iri, it is important that you never, ever touch me. To do so is death, certain as sunrise." She drew her knees up against her chest. "Everyone who touches me dies. Even my breath will kill eventually. For your own safety, Master, Iri, please…" she forced herself to say it, "please stay away."
---
Illysaviel von Einzbern was in a huff.
These days, everyone seemed to be busy with something, and didn't have any time to play with her. Even Papa! When she'd asked what was so important that even the homc… the homuc… that even the maids were brushing her off, Papa had just got that uncomfortable expression he always got when she asked him about his work, and told her the news; that he'd be going away soon, along with Mama.
"But why?" Illya had whined.
"It's important, Illya. There's a lot of people who need help, and if your mama and I work very hard, we can save all of them. But we can't do it here, so we're going to have to leave. Just for a little while."
Illya pouted. Not because she was actually sulking – she was eight, not five – but because she'd worked out that whenever she did all the grownups, even Papa, were a lot more likely to let her have her way. She'd perfected it through years of trial and error, until the castle maids were basically putty in her hands.
It was technically lying, but it was with your face not your voice so it didn't really count, and it made it so much easier to get what you were after. (Illya took after her father much more than her mother, in almost everything but looks.)
"Can I come with you?" she pleaded. "I'll be really good…"
"No." And that was that. There was no arguing with Papa when he made that face, the one that was all hard and cold and scary.
On the off chance it might help, she'd gone to Mama as well, but didn't really expect it to work – despite how he looked, Papa was the soft touch most of the time. And, sure enough, Mama had just pulled Illya into a hug and told her to be good for Grandfather Acht while they were away.
Illya had agreed, obviously. It wasn't like she was planning to be bad for Grandfather, that was just stupid and the funny man from the Magus Association had gone home in pieces when he'd made Grandfather angry.
(Literally, in pieces. Still alive pieces, delivered one by one over the course of months. His head had gone last, and Illya had had great fun taking it on tours of the castle, especially once the lungs were disconnected and it stopped making that annoying wheezy screamy noise. Illya had sulked for days when the maids had gently but firmly pulled Prince Headward out of her hands and finally sent him home.)
Anyway, of course she wasn't going to make trouble for Grandfather, because she didn't plan to be in the castle at all. Papa leaving was bad enough, but he did that all the time and Illya had gotten used to it. Taking Mama, though? She'd be left with just the maids to play with, and they were boring. No, Illya was going, whether her parents liked it or not.
It wasn't quite true to say that Illya had never been out of the castle, but certainly she'd never been out of its sight. Still, going with her parents shouldn't be all that hard. Papa always took these big bags with him, and she knew they weren't the ones he packed his clothes in because he always made a game with her out of deciding what to wear on his trips. So they couldn't be anything really important.
Illya would sneak into Papa's room while he was out (she'd seen him talking very seriously with Mama in the study while looking at all kinds of boring-looking papers with little photos of people clipped on, and they looked like they'd take a while), and pack a bunch of her stuff into the bags. Then she'd hide in there just before her parents left, and by the time they realised she'd come along they'd probably be halfway there already.
Maybe she should take some snacks and books too, because Illya wasn't sure how far away this Fuyuki place really was. It could be a whole hour away.
The door to her parents' room wasn't locked – who would steal anything out here in this castle? – but Illya still felt like she was trespassing when she stepped in with a small bag of clothes and other travel stuff. There was a cold, creepy feeling in the room that she'd never felt before, even though the sun was shining brightly through the window.
Illya shook it off and marched in anyway. No-one was there, the room was deserted. It wasn't the time for the maids to clean, and they knew better than to wander in. No-one was watching her. Now, where would Papa put his other bags…
She found them under the bed – with how large it was, there was plenty of space. Grinning in triumph, she crawled underneath and started to drag the bags out so she could hide her stuff properly.
The bed creaked. Illya jumped, and darted out from under the bed and looked around. There was still no-one there. Eyeing the bed suspiciously, as though it was deliberately playing a trick on her, she retrieved the bags, and unzipped them.
When she saw what was inside, she huffed in frustration. The bags Papa always took with him were filled with guns. No fair – she wasn't allowed to touch Papa's guns, that was the one thing he'd ever ever shouted at her for.
So she needed some way of hiding herself and her things in the bag without touching the guns. Maybe there was some kind of pulley system she could rig using the bedsheets....
"You… should be elsewhere, child…"
llya shrieked and spun on the spot at the unexpected voice behind her. Her feet caught on the bag and she tripped, landing on her butt and facing the bed. Crouched on one corner like a spider was a grown-up, a woman with dark skin wearing a tight dark costume and a mask shaped like a skull. Illya scooted backwards until her back hit the wall, staring. The woman had definitely, definitely not been in the room five seconds ago.
"Ah, child… Illyasviel, yes?" said the woman. "Illyasviel, I am sorry for startling you. I work for your father."
Oh. Well, that did explain it. Papa did mention he occasionally worked with people.
(Illya liked to think of herself as pragmatic and cynical. However, it was hard to get good at being sceptical and spotting lies when you lived in a castle full of people who had no reason to lie to you. In fact, the only person who deceived Illyasviel regularly was her father, and then only in ways like going outside during a game of hide and seek and explaining afterward that they'd never agreed that it was out of bounds – despite Illya being forbidden to go outside without permission. So Illya was quite gullible, even for an eight-year-old.)
"Are you Auntie Maiya?" asked Illya. "That's the only person I know who works with Papa but she's never visited, because she and Mama don't get on."
"No. I am not Hisau Maiya. I am the Servant Assassin. You may call me Serenity."
"A Servant!" Illya's eyes shone, all previous fear forgotten. All Einzberns knew about Servants, of course. In many ways, the entire family was geared towards the summoning and use of Servants in the Holy Grail War. Seeing one in the flesh – well, spirit-flesh – was like seeing your life's work and also a superhero and a princess all at the same time. Then Illya made the connection. "The Grail War? That's what Papa's up to? Geez, he could have just said…" She crossed her arms, pouted (for real this time), and glared at the floor.
The Servant – Serenity – tilted her head. "Have I upset you? I am sorry…"
"No, it's not you – well, you made me fall over, and that hurt, but I'm not cross about that. It's because I definitely can't go with Papa and Mama now. I want to but… I get it. It's too dangerous." She lifted her head. "I'm hardly going to see them before they go, there's too much to do, and Mama won't be coming back, and Papa might- Papa might…" She sniffed, and hated herself for it.
Serenity paused, then lifted her hands to her mask and slowly removed it. Her eyes were huge and dark underneath, and full of concern for her Master's child. "Illyasviel, I will do my best to make sure your father is safe. While I am alive, none shall approach him without my knowing."
Illya smiled, eyes watery. "You'll keep him safe? Promise?"
"I promise."
"Pinky swear?"
Serenity frowned in confusion. "Pinky… swear?"
"Yeah!" Illya got up and crossed to in front of the Servant. "When you make a promise, and you link you pinkies, it's sealed for life. It's like a Geas, but it doesn't need any magic. Pinky swear you'll keep Papa safe." She reached for Serenity's hand, to show her, but the Servant pulled away, folding her hands under her armpits.
"That… would not be wise. But I can offer my oath, and my word. I will protect your father's life as though it were my own – as though it were more than my own. I promise, you will see your father again, Illyasviel."
Illya frowned sceptically. "I don't know. If it's not a pinky swear, I don't know if I can trust it. Let's see, let's see… oh! You're Assassin, right? That means you kill for money?"
"I worry about why you know that… but yes."
"Then…" Illya fumbled in her pockets, and eventually came up with a fistful of grubby change. "I'm hiring you! I know it's probably not a lot but… two Deutsche Marks, to kill everyone that's trying to hurt Papa?"
Serenity was still for a moment, mouth open in surprise. "Life and death are important things, Illyasviel, and not so cheap as that… but then, I have never taken a contract to protect another. Very well. The bargain is struck. Your father's life preserved, for two Marks." Serenity bowed her head. "I have never once broken a contract, lady Einzbern. I shall not start now."
Illya nodded in satisfaction. "Okay. Okay. If I can't go, you'll have to go in my place. Papa's very good at what he does, but he can't be all careful all the time." She drew herself up, and tried her best to sound regal, and impressive – like Grandfather when he addressed the family. "Watch him, protect him. You made a promise, we made a deal!"
At that, Serenity's lips twitched in a tiny, tiny smile.
---
"Yes." There wasn't anything more to say, apparently. The only sound in the old man's study was the dull roar and crackle of the fireplace, which cast everything in the grand old room into shadow and orange glow. Acht sat in his great leather armchair, while Emiya Kiritsugu had chosen to remain standing in the centre of the room. At the door, and standing almost unnoticeably by the walls, were attendant homunculi – servants and bodyguards both, with their heavy halberds within easy reach.
Here, in his place of power, the Einzbern patriarch was one of the most… unassailable men alive. As essentially a hired gun, Emiya was not allowed to go armed in his presence, and had left his Thompson Contender and Calico with an associate before coming to work for the Einzberns. That said, he still kept a personal handgun, and this he had surrendered to the waiting guards, who had locked it in a steel case outside the room.
This was more a gesture of respect to the man feared by mages all over the world, and more a result of Acht's understandable paranoia as head of one of the most distinguished magus families in the Association, than it was for actual security purposes. Even if the Magus Killer had been armed, the waiting homunculi would have run him through before he could even raise his weapon.
After all, Acht was very familiar with how his family's chosen weapon for the Fourth Grail War operated.
When Acht realised Emiya wasn't going to say any more, he chuckled drily. "Well, you would know best, I suppose. And how is the Servant herself? I will admit to… disappointment. I had hoped, given your reputation, for some great warrior who laid low many sorcerers and witches. St George, perhaps, or King Arthur… well, it can't be helped. Sometimes I think it may have been wiser for the Founders to implement the Relic system after all."
"I am entirely satisfied with Assassin. More so than with a hero. Our strengths match perfectly, as do our outlooks." Three facts, three statements. As ever, Emiya showed no emotion, even when arguing with his employer. Acht would have found it creepy, if he hadn't seen a hundred like Emiya come and go. However they acted, mercenaries were all the same. In the end, all that mattered was whether they turned out useful to the Einzbern family.
"As expected. That was why the Founders chose to have the heroic spirit match the Master, in the end." That, and at the time the Tohsaka and Makiri were set to become far richer than the Einzbern. Allowing any hero to be summoned by any master based on the relic they were able to procure would have turned the Grail War into a game of resources, or so the heads of the three families who created the Heaven's Feel Ritual had reasoned at the time. The richer family could simply acquire the greatest relics from the greatest heroes, and secure an advantage from the very start.
Instead, the summoning ritual was created so as to accept only one sympathetic link to select a heroic spirit from the Throne of Heroes – the prospective Masters themselves. Each Master called to whichever hero was closest to their own personality. Sadly, attempts to stack the deck by 'grooming' a candidate in such a way to attract a specific hero were futile. The Greater Grail awarded Command Spells as it pleased, and all such attempts had resulted in someone entirely different being selected as a Master.
Honestly, the Einzberns were lucky that Emiya Kiritsugu had managed to acquire the Command Spells.
"If you're satisfied, then I can only let you do your job," said Acht. "I do hope, for your sake, this Assassin is up to snuff."
"She is," said Kiritsugu.
"Really? From what you've said she seems lacklustre indeed, poison or no. I've no doubt she could take on every one of the family homunculi and win, but against another Servant, she'll stand no chance in a straight fight." The system that ranked Servants one against the other was ill-understood even by the Einzberns, who'd created the system in the first place, but it was possible for a Master to get a rough idea of how strong a given Servant was by using a form of limited clairvoyance.
Assassin was… underwhelming.
"Correct. That is why I don't intend to have her engage in any straight fights with other Servants."
Acht smirked. "You do realise this is supposed to be a Holy Grail War, Emiya? At some point you're going to have to fight someone. Even if you let all the other Servants defeat each other, all it will do is leave the strongest Servant standing. How will Assassin cope then?"
"Just like this, of course," Emiya said. He didn't gesture, but his eyes flickered to a spot behind Acht. Acht turned.
Standing directly behind his chair, hand outstretched as though to caress his cheek, was Assassin.
Acht stiffened in his seat. He was long past such undignified responses as startling or shouting in surprise – but his aging heart raced in his chest like it hadn't for decades. In the darkness, in her dark clothes, Assassin appeared as little more than a floating skull, grinning like the Grim Reaper himself.
How long had she been there?
For a frozen instant they remained like that, murderer and magus, in some macabre tableau, so very nearly touching. Then Assassin withdrew her hand, and retreated into the darkness once more, disappearing in a soft bloom of shadow.
Acht turned back to Emiya, and thought about how easily he'd been brought within a literal inch of dying. Inside his own room in his own castle, surrounded by combat-spec homunculi. Emiya stood there, saying nothing.
"I see your point," Acht said. "But mark me, Magus Killer – don't assume it will be so easy disposing of the enemy Masters. Unlike me, they will have Servants of their own. And each and every one of them knows that Servant Assassin could be coming for their heads. Not when, not how, but you've lost the element of surprise before the War's even begun. Simply striking from the shadows won't work forever. They'll know you're coming. They'll be ready."
"Of course," said Emiya. He held out a hand, and Assassin materialised at his side to place his handgun in it. The fact that it had been locked away under constant supervision didn't seem to have mattered, apparently.
"That's where I come in."
---
Two reluctant killers.
Two aimless weapons.
Two dignified leaders.
Two dedicated protectors.
Two loyal nobles.
Two genius newcomers.
Two wild beasts.
May the Grail choose the worthy.
Chapter 2 - Inflammation
- Location
- Probably at sea
Chapter 2 - Inflammation
Serenity crouched in a tree. Even barefoot, even balancing on her toes to maintain footing on the tiny branch, she was steady as a rock. Below her, her target searched, oblivious.
People rarely looked up – especially not directly up. At most, they might scan the canopy every so often, then return to looking at head height and sometimes ground level. Craning your neck all the way up was awkward and uncomfortable, so people just didn't do it.
Serenity would have struck by now, but the location wasn't right. Still, it wasn't hard to make someone move the way you wanted, if you knew how.
She threw one of her double-sided white knives, almost invisible against the backdrop of snowy forest. It landed with a soft crunch in a snowdrift, about fifty feet behind the target, who whirled and squinted as through trying to catch a glimpse of motion. With a glance back behind her, the target set off, carefully checking behind every tree.
Serenity followed above, sure-footed as a squirrel and utterly silent. Her target stopped, and so did Serenity, showing no discomfort as her bare feet landed on a snow-covered branch, as thick as her wrist. She looked around at where they had ended up. Yes, this would do.
She reached down and gave a branch a violent shake, sending snow plummeting down like a miniature avalanche. It all fell directly onto her target, who squealed in outrage.
"Aah! Serenity, you meanie, that went down my back!"
Illya shook out her dress in a frantic attempt to get the snow out before it all melted, and glared at Serenity, who landed in front of her so lightly she barely left a footprint.
"My apologies," she said.
"I really thought I had you that time. I definitely heard you behind me!"
"I am an assassin raised to the Throne of Heroes. If you can hear anything at all from me, you should probably assume it is a trick."
Illya huffed, and Serenity smiled.
She and her Master, and Iri, wouldn't be staying in the Einzbern castle all that long – her own summoning was pretty much the end of the preparations, and it was judged that Kiritsugu would perform better if he spent more time in the battleground beforehand, the inherent risk this presented being significantly mitigated by the presence of Assassin. So, they were there for pretty much exactly as long as it took to conduct final mission preparations: transport to Fuyuki, transfer of essential resources, sending initial reconnaissance teams in to make sure the Tohsakas hadn't cooked up some nasty surprises for visiting magi over the last sixty years, that sort of thing.
Soon, they would be leaving. Serenity was still sceptical that this aeroplane could really get the three of them to Japan in a matter of hours, but she was looking forward to seeing it, and seeing Japan, too. She'd travelled far and wide in life – for someone of her era, that was. Her Master had asked her to name all the places she had visited, to get a sense of the different environments she could operate in, and had pointed them out in an atlas. The scale of the world, and the tiny part of it that had made up her whole life, had left her feeling small and humble.
Serenity had spent most of her time winning snowball fights against Illya. Somehow, Illya managed to be just as excited by the prospect of playing in the snow as Serenity was, despite having lived in it all her life and Serenity having never seen snow before. As someone who was, by necessity, quite good at reading people, Serenity thought that Illya must be incredibly lonely shut up in this castle. None of the true Einzbern children really associated with her, and while the homunculi were nice enough they all had jobs to do and none of them were really children even if they were younger than Illya. Very probably, Serenity was the first person outside of her parents to really pay attention to the girl.
These matches weren't – quite – as uneven as they sounded, because Serenity couldn't directly hit Illya with a snowball. There was every possibility a little of her sweat could sink into the snow and then hit Illya, and even such a tiny amount could prove fatal, especially to someone as small as Illya.
But it was still a match between a Servant and a human child, and Serenity was very good at improvising. Shaking branches above Illya's head, kicking up great flurries by moving at speed… once she stole Illya's scarf and used it as a giant sling.
She couldn't remember the last time she'd played around like this. She was younger than Illya was, certainly. Ever since she'd been taken by the Order, there had been no time for frivolity, only study, prayer, and training. And ever since she achieved her poison body, she was left unable to play normally with others even if she'd wanted to.
The War wasn't all going to be like this, of course. Sooner or later, the killing would start. But this… it was a reminder of what she was fighting for. The chance to, once again, live and laugh and love like a normal girl.
The rest of the time was spent in conversation with her Master. He wanted to know everything about her – or rather, about what she could do. Could she harm Servants with her poison? How much was necessary to kill a normal human? Could it linger on objects? What were the effects when administered by contact, by ingestion, by injection, by application on a wound? Besides her poison, what else could Serenity do?
Her Master had access to information on all her parameters and skills, but he wanted to see them anyway. Serenity obeyed, without complaint. It made sense to her. She was just another of her Master's weapons – it was only natural he should know everything about it and how it worked. She saw the careful way he maintained his gun and his knives, and noted that it wasn't done out of love or sentimentality, but simple pragmatism. She approved, and did everything Kiritsugu asked.
---
The day came, quicker than seemed possible. Despite her promise to be good, Illya threw a tantrum on the day her parents left, and Serenity's last sight of her was the tiny homunculus screaming and crying while hanging half out her parents window, while a harried-looking maid held on to her to stop her from following.
Then they were away – Serenity, her Master, and Iri, who drove to a small airport and then on to the Einzbern private jet. Serenity could have followed the car in spirit form, but could hardly have kept up with an aeroplane, and in any case all of the aircrew were owned or employed by the Einzberns and knew better than to talk; so Serenity spent the trip materialised, and enjoying the journey. When the plane took off, she was all but glued to the window, and gasped to see the land fall away – higher than the tallest tower, higher than the mountains, she'd never seen such wonders in all her life.
But she thought that behaving like some simple peasant girl would hardly give her Master faith in her, so she restrained her excitement and instead settled down to sleep for the long journey to Japan.
Eventually, she was woken – not by a shake, of course, but by her Master's curt voice in her mind. When they landed, Serenity was already in spirit form. Iri would proceed to the castle, there to meet up with the staff that had been sent ahead to prepare it and make it liveable after sixty years of minimal maintenance. Kiritsugu would be meeting with his associate, Hisau Maiya, to retrieve the weapons he'd left with her in a secure location. Serenity, naturally, would accompany him.
For this part of the journey, and from this point on, Serenity was not to be seen in public. This was a warzone, and there was no point giving out information you didn't have to. Even the fact that the Einzbern Servant was an Assassin was priceless information to the right person at the right time, even without knowing exactly who it was. So, while Kiritsugu's hired car weaved through the streets of Fuyuki, Serenity followed above, hopping from rooftop to rooftop, visible only to those with the mystic sight and then only as a fleeting shadow.
When her Master arrived at the hotel, Serenity was already there. As a ghost, she drifted in to the room her Master had indicated, and settled into a dark corner. The woman inside noticed nothing, instead continuing to check and recheck the weapons which covered the bed.
There were bullets, and knives, and various cheap handguns like the one Kiritsugu had had with him back in Germany. But three were given pride of place, obviously special – and while the Grail did not go so far as to give Serenity the exact specifications of each, it did give her a general idea of why. The first was designed to be held in one hand, and would spit a rapid stream of bullets. The second was huge, almost as tall as Serenity herself, and would fire single shots with high power and great precision. Both of these were impressive enough – although Serenity could almost match the firing rate of the smaller and the accuracy and power of the larger using her thrown daggers.
The last, however, was rather more special. Older and better cared-for, with the marks and wear that showed years of hard use. Just by looking at it, Serenity could tell it would fit in her Master's hand like it had grown there. This would be the Thompson Contender, then – the tool through which her Master fired his signature Origin Bullets and his greatest weapon. Besides her.
Kiritsugu must have had a lot of trust in this Hisau Maiya, to have left such a weapon in her care.
Serenity waited for her Master – as did Maiya, judging from the impatient glances she kept throwing at the door, and the way she kept on looking out the window. Even so, it was Serenity that noticed him coming first. The tread of his shoes, the rhythm of his steps, the soft rustle of his coat – Serenity had a good ear for this kind of thing. Identifying a target with senses other than sight was an essential skill for the Order, after all, though Serenity was usually in plain view when she killed anyway.
Thus, she wasn't surprised when Kiritsugu entered the cheap hotel room without fanfare, and was instead watching Maiya. The woman's cold and expressionless face lit up for an instant, with a smile of delight – before she reined it in and looked detached once more. To Serenity, though, it was obvious. Love, or something close enough to pass for it. Or else, a kind of dependency that at least did the trick.
Kiritsugu had seemed comfortable with ordering the Servant Assassin around, as if it was natural, without shame or awkwardness. This was good, and was one of the reasons why the partnership between the two was as frictionless as it was, but Serenity had never realised that it wasn't actually all that natural. Now she understood. She wasn't the first girl to regard Emiya Kiritsugu as her Master.
Her Master greeted Maiya with a kiss on the lips. Maiya closed her eyes in bliss, but to Serenity it was clear that Kiritsugu was just going through the motions. As someone who'd kissed hundreds of men she did not love, Serenity was very familiar with what that expression looked like. It bothered her. Being used as a tool was something she, Serenity, was used to – as a member of the order, and now as a Servant – but Maiya was head over heels for a man who could only see her as a pawn.
She thought of Iri, too, even now busy preparing a home for Kiritsugu to come back to… but let it go. It wasn't any of her business. No, in fact this rational, methodical, cold approach would work wonders for them in the war, and fit in seamlessly with her own methods. It would almost certainly increase her chances of acquiring the Grail and achieving her wish.
It still bothered her. But only a little. Not even as much as, say, taking a human life.
Still, she would have to make an effort to be nicer to Maiya. With luck, she wouldn't have to keep on living the life that Serenity had. One girl lost to a life of death and shadows was more than enough for one team.
… she should probably wait to show herself, though, because Maiya might just have a heart attack if she realised she and Kiritsugu weren't alone right now. Feeling vaguely voyeuristic, Serenity settled back into the shadows.
---
So, it turned out demon summoning was easier than people thought. Who knew?
Okay, there was actually a fair bit of work involved. First, you had to discover an old book in your parents' house, that actually had the ritual in it in the first place. Then, get bored enough to actually decide to try it out. Then you had to actually learn the design of the summoning circle, and practice drawing it in blood too, because blood didn't run like ink or paint did and you had to work quite quickly to prevent clotting or stuff like that.
And then the book said it needed to be the right blood, unless you could do magic in the first place. If you weren't already a wizard, then you needed to find a wizard and use his blood instead, because it would have the 'residual Od, which the aspiring Form Magus might Transfigure into the true Mana by means of the Alchemy of Soul, using the improvised Formalcraft diagram as described in Chapter Seventeen'.
It was a testament to just how bored Uryuu Ryuunosuke was with his life that he'd bothered to hack through that dusty old piece of crap, and bothered to do all the practice, just for the possibility of summoning a demon. Just on the off-chance magic was actually real.
If it was all a hoax, just a bunch of old farts playing make believe, then he'd be stuck with an awkward clean-up and would laugh about it later. (To himself, obviously.)
If it was real…
…well, hopefully he wouldn't get fried by a fireball or something when he tried to go after a wizard's blood. But, discounting that, if he managed to summon a proper demon – man, just how cool would that be?
And that was why he was here, in this house, draining the blood from two people and their teenaged daughter. Apparently they were magical, according to rumours around the neighbourhood anyway. They hadn't hit him with a fireball, although to be fair Ryuunosuke had kind of cheated by breaking into the house while the family was asleep and injecting them with quick-acting sedative where they lay. (No sense in wasting blood.)
The circle was drawn. (Again. Ryuunosuke had gone through quite a few murders before now, trying to find the right people.) The sacrifice was ready, although it was getting tears and snot all over the floor. God, it was like someone had just killed the young boy's entire family and decorated the floor with their blood and tied him up and forced him to watch all of it. Kids these days.
"Okay, how did this go?" he said to himself. "Fill, fill, fill, fill, fill, fill… geez, how many times…" he broke off and flicked through the book. "Five? Fine. Fill times five, repeat times five, frickin' whatever. I will be all the good in the world – not bloody likely. I am all the evil in the world, that's more like it. Answer my summons, Guardian of the Contract!"
The circle glowed a dull red.
That seemed to be it.
"Um…" started Ryuunosuke. Was the demon just trying to trick him into breaking the circle and freeing it to slaughter everyone? He didn't really know how clever this thing was going to be. But, on the other hand, he got the circle to glow this time! Progress! It was a pretty roundabout way of getting a crappy reading light, and it wasn't exactly the kind of trick he could show off at parties, but still!
No doubting it now, magic definitely existed. And, well, he'd feel pretty stupid if there really was a demon there, just biding its time, and he just walked away because he was dumb enough to fall for its tricks. Maybe it just needed a little encouragement?
"Um, Mr. Demon? I've got a nice little sacrifice for you here! Something nice and sweet and succulent- ah! Fucking ow!"
His hand burned as if branded. Before his eyes, a weird pattern of marks appeared on the back – and the circle on the floor erupted into flames.
When it died down, the circle was empty no more. What looked like a young blonde girl stood inside, dressed in a pale yellow kimono. At first glance, she looked pretty cute, kind of exotic. Then Ryuunosuke noticed the horns, curving up from her forehead. And the hands and feet, monstrous red clawed things instead of dainty human fingers. And the way the ends of her long hair smouldered and flickered with licks of flame.
And the eyes – utterly alien, glittering with a cold, reptile intelligence under a murk of rage. The eyes of a cat, and Ryuunosuke knew how cruel those evil little furballs could be. They locked onto Ryuunosuke's, and he found himself frozen like a rabbit before a snake. Here, in front of him, was a predator – the next step above mankind on the food chain.
She spoke, and Ryuunosuke saw tusks. "Well, summoner? Where are the sweets that were promised?"
Ryuunosuke blinked. "Oh. Um, it's not sweets, it's that kid there." The boy's muffled screams almost hid the demon's sigh.
"Better than nothing, I suppose…"
There was… mess.
When it was done, the demon sat in the middle of the room, licking her claws clean. Ryuunosuke gaped.
"That was… when you… and his bones…"
The demon winced. "Yes… the bone thing wasn't really my idea. But I have a friend who'd be disappointed. You know how it is."
Ryuunosuke stared at the demon he'd summoned. This was… mindblowing. He was well aware he wasn't like other people. Ever since he was young, he'd had a fascination with death. He wanted to see more of it, experience more of it, and eventually, create more of it. Everything about the transition was just amazing to him.
Other people didn't seem to think this way, and while Ryuunosuke never really wondered why, he accepted that he was an outlier, and that society would never accept him as he was. So he contented himself with easily-hidden murders, going after women and children as easier targets, and resigned himself to the fact that he'd never be able to really do anything interesting with death.
This demon, though? Now she was interesting. She was like… like a sentient tiger, a wild beast that inflicted death on humans in her path like it was natural but also could appreciate how she did it. She was the most beautiful thing Ryuunosuke had ever seen.
"So," he started, "who are you, anyway?"
The demon looked round, and fixed his gaze with those animal eyes. "Hm? Ah. Servant Berserker, Ibaraki-douji."
This wasn't really what Ryuunosuke was expecting to hear. "Servant… what? Who do you serve?"
The newly-named Ibaraki glared. "You, obviously. Keep up. You summoned me for the Grail War, did you not?"
"…the what?"
Ibaraki snarled – actually snarled, making a noise like a pissed-off tiger. "The Grail War, summoner. A battle between seven legends, for the prize of one wish. You truly do not know?"
Ryuunosuke's blank look said it all.
The demon sighed, glowering with eyes like coal. "You summoned me and bound me to this world. While this is true, I will fight to obtain the Grail. Should you die, I die as well. Six others vie for the prize, and six others will be ripped apart should they stand between me and what is mine." Ibaraki flexed her claws, and clenched her right fist. "Six other mages are in your position, having summoned a Servant to fight on their behalf. For your sake, I hope your magecraft is as mighty as your Servant." She smirked, showing her tusks once more.
Oh. Oh dear. This was… this was pretty bad, wasn't it. All Ryuunosuke had wanted to do was summon a demon to feast on the souls of the living! He didn't think he'd actually have to do any work for it!
"Erm, just to let you know, I'm kinda… not a wizard? I basically just sort of completed this ritual by accident. I don't know anything about any Grail, or any other wizards… are you saying that there's other guys who've summoned demons like you?"
Ibaraki stared at him for five full seconds. Then she put one monstrous claw to her forehead and closed her eyes. "My Master is useless. Once more, I will have to do everything myself… Shuten, I bet you're laughing at me from Hell right now…" She opened her eyes again. "Very well. If that is how it must be. Summoner!"
Ryuunosuke supposed that meant him. "Yes?"
"Once more, I am Ibaraki-douji, Servant Berserker, leader of the oni of Mount Ooe. I will fight and win the Grail, to achieve my own wish. If we win, you also get one wish." Oh. That sounded pretty cool. "I will do my best to keep you alive, but be warned – we enter battles you have never imagined, and I have never attempted to protect someone so… puny."
"I'm not-"
"Therefore, we will need a secure base of operations. I am most familiar with mountain territory. Tell me, is there a mountain nearby where we can retreat and plan and raid from?"
Ryuunosuke thought. There was one place…
"I guess. But, there's already a temple there. Hey, if demons are real, are onmyouji real too? Is that going to be a problem?"
Ibaraki smiled nastily. "No. I don't expect it will."
It was night, in Fuyuki city.
---
Come morning, the delivery man found Ryuudouji Temple deserted.
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Chapter 3 - Fester
- Location
- Probably at sea
Chapter 3 - Fester
By night, Ryuudouji Temple had been kind of spooky – all grand and imposing up on the mountain top, with an impressive gate that seemed to say to Ryuunosuke, stop. You stand on holy ground.
The gate was not so impressive any more.
The sun rose on the courtyard, pale glow washing over grey stone, and revealed a disaster area. An observer would have assumed the temple had been struck by a typhoon that had miraculously spared the rest of the city – as though the holy men had taken the blow upon themselves to save the innocents below. See, they'd say, here was where the wind had ripped the gate from its foundations and blown it clear across the grounds to smash into the shrine. Here was where a mighty branch must have been sent from the woods to rake across the decking and take out the support pillars. The fires, yes, from lanterns blown over and fuelled by the howling gale.
All very explainable, if there had been a typhoon. How lucky, that Fuyuki proper was delivered.
But there hadn't been, and nothing about this had been lucky.
Ryuunosuke leaned against one of the few walls Ibaraki had left intact, and watched his… Servant? Yes, that was what she'd said. He watched his Servant lounge on the steps up to the shrine, cleaning herself in the sun.
Shintoism, or religion of any kind, had never really done it for Ryuunosuke – but nevertheless, he'd still had something of a spiritual experience at the temple.
The first time he'd witnessed a car crash, he was seven years old. It had been a silly, avoidable thing, just someone driving while drunk, misjudging a turn, and ploughing their car straight into oncoming traffic. A simple, everyday tragedy, but Ryuunosuke had been entranced. The sheer power of the forces involved, the way that three fragile little lives had been snuffed out by their own hands and some bad luck… it humbled him. For the first time, he really understood just how small a thing death was. How could a human life be worth anything, compared to the vastness of the forces that could be brought to bear on their bodies?
He sought out more. As a child, he could hardly cause anything, but he searched out news footage or car crashes, train derailments, tsunami, volcanic eruptions… anything in which people died by the hundreds, as if the universe itself was telling Ryuunosuke that no, life didn't matter.
He'd grown up since then – learned to appreciate death as a transition and entity in its own right, and not just as an absence or rejection of life. But watching Ibaraki break a temple gate with her bare hands, and hurl it overarm to crush sixteen astonished monks like it was a paper toy… it reminded him a lot of that feeling.
She'd been a force of nature in her own right. And now, here she was in the morning sunshine, delicately licking blood off her claws with a long, pink tongue, looking like some fairytale princess. Well, if you ignored that she was more likely to slaughter any dragon that kidnapped her and steal its hoard, and then eat any knight that came riding in on a white horse to rescue her.
Was this the 'gap moe' Ryuunosuke had heard about?
Ibaraki looked up, and caught him staring. He looked away hurriedly, then glanced back. She frowned. "What is it, summoner?"
"Nothing. Just… kinda wondering what I'm bringing to the party here, you know?"
"The… party? You wish to hold a revel?" Ibaraki put one bloodstained claw to her lips in thought. "I suppose there is no harm in it, although it would be a lot of trouble to obtain a proper feast, and we would need to silence all witnesses. On the other hand, one problem may solve the other…"
Right. Noted: Ibaraki wasn't very good at slang.
"No, no, no need for any revels. I meant, you're kinda amazing, you know? I'm pretty useless by comparison, but I don't want to just sit around and let you do everything. Is there, you know, anything I can do to help?"
"Nothing. To suggest a human can help an oni is madness." Ibaraki's reply was quick, as though rehearsed – or an automatic response. Well, screw that. Ryuunosuke was having the time of his life, and he was going to get involved, dammit.
"Hey now, no need to be like that. You said there's six other demons and six other wizards, right? What do those other guys usually do?"
Ibaraki regarded him with a cool stare. "If you were a halfway competent Master you would know all this already."
"Well, I'm trying to learn. Please. Just what did I accidentally get myself into last night?"
For a moment it looked as though Ibaraki would refuse him again… but then she seemed to come to a decision. She stood and made her way over, until she came to a stop just in front of Ryuunosuke. Like this, it was apparent how short she was – the top of her head would only have tickled Ryuunosuke's chin, although the horns could still have put out an eye.
"Very well. You wish to understand the Holy Grail War? First, you must understand Servants. Pick me up."
Ryuunosuke's brain had been trying to figure out where this conversation had been heading, but it now ground to a halt. "Um… what?"
If such a thing was possible, Ibaraki squirmed. "You heard me, summoner. Pick me up. It is the quickest way of understanding the difference between you and me, nothing more!"
Slowly, as if reaching out to an animal that may well suddenly bite his hand off, Ryuunosuke placed his hands under Ibaraki's armpits and heaved. She came up easily, weighing no more than the little girl she appeared to be, red clawed feet kicking in the air.
"Very well, now put me down. Down, I say!" Ryuunosuke did so.
"As you see, summoner, I weigh no more than I look. My muscles are as they appear, only a little denser than yours and that due to my lifestyle compared with your own. Now, tell me – " With a violent disruption to the air, a giant blade made of what looked like bone and rawhide appeared in Ibaraki's hands. She twirled it like a baton, then held it out handle-first to Ryuunosuke. "Do you think you can swing my sword?"
"I'm pretty sure I can't…"
"Try."
Ryuunosuke did as he was told. The second his hand closed over the handle, Ibaraki let go – and Ryuunosuke was forced to let go and hop back, utterly unprepared for the weight of what felt like an entire car on the end of his arm.
"Woah!"
Ibaraki smirked, then picked up the blade in one hand and held it straight out. Knowing what he knew now about how heavy that sword was, Ryuunosuke looked for some sign of counterbalance – for Ibaraki gripping the ground with her feet, for instance, or somehow not falling over with a sword heavier than she was held at arm's length.
He saw none. Even physics was apparently scared of the demon he'd summoned. So cool.
"This is the great bone blade, formed from the skeletons of oni – and oni bone is the toughest material above the sea. It is a mass of curses and hate and power that no human can hope to carry. So you see. Servants are powerful, summoner. Beyond you in every way. Stronger than you, faster than you, tougher than you, in ways that go beyond mere physique. You ask if you can be any help? Lift my sword first, then say that."
"Wow. So these other demons are all like you? All oni?"
"Ah… no. I had meant to correct you earlier. In truth, the War is primarily held between heroes, not monsters such as myself. I would be surprised if there were any other oni summoned – the rest will likely all be human heroes."
Questions, Ryuunosuke had so many questions. "How do you know all this, anyway? Has this war been going on since you were around?"
"No. The Grail provides a basic understanding of the War, and the very basics of modern knowledge required, to each Servant – language included, naturally. Or did you think I spoke your pathetic modern mewling in medieval Kyoto?"
Ryuunosuke supposed that made sense. Although it clearly had its limits. Looking at Ibaraki now, he couldn't imagine she'd actually be able to ever blend in, even if he somehow managed to hide her horns, hands, feet, and eyes. She was just obviously different from modern humans in the way she thought, spoke, and acted… even outside the fact that she clearly regarded most humans as somewhere between vermin and food.
Anyway. "So if most of the other wizards are just summoning other humans, how do they stand a chance against you? No human I ever met can do…" he gestured vaguely at the ruins of Ryuudouji temple, "What you can, no matter how heroic." A good thing too, or you'd have cops leaping at least medium-sized buildings in a single bound and running down getaway cars.
Ibaraki looked uncomfortable, chewing on her lip with one massive tusk. "Of course! Oni are naturally superior! …but heroes are troublesome. Be warned, should we encounter another Servant, you will have exactly as little chance of facing them in combat as you would me."
"Huh… so what's the point of the wizards, then? Is their magic a threat to these Servants?"
"It is possible. But unlikely. Generally, if any Master encounters any other Servant, the Servant is sure to win. The point, as you say, is to act as an anchor for the Servant. Without the mage providing magical energy, the Servant fades away. A Master who is having trouble defeating an enemy Servant in battle might direct his Servant to destroy the enemy Master instead. Or, if he is feeling confident, go after the other Master directly, of course."
Yikes. So these Servants were likely to be gunning for his head? Ryuunosuke tried to imagine himself fighting Ibaraki. He couldn't see any scenario in which he lasted more than about three seconds. "Huh. That's… not great. I'm not exactly a fighter."
"Indeed not. Fortunately, you are so weak as to be beneath notice for most other Masters. Any pathetic stream of prana you produce is all being directed into sustaining me. Keep out of the way, and they are unlikely to find you."
Run and hide, huh? That sounded right up Ryuunosuke's street. "Alright. Any other advice?"
"Yes. Your hand." Ryuunosuke looked at it. The marks he'd acquired last night were still there, red and angry. "Those are your Command Spells. Each Master has three. Each of them allows you to give me one absolute order."
"Huh." Ryuunosuke considered. "So, if I wanted you to sleep with me, I could just tell you to do it, and you would?"
Ibaraki's reptile eyes blazed. "Indeed I would. And after the third time you ordered me to disgrace myself so, I would rip your head from your shoulders, safe in the knowledge you no longer had any power over me."
Noted.
"So, what are they usually used for?" asked Ryuunosuke, choosing to move the conversation on quickly. "I'm assuming wizards aren't so stupid as to waste them like that."
"Quite. The authority of the Command Spells empowers a Servant. Tell me, 'Strike him true', and no matter my skill or my opponent's speed, I will land a perfect blow. Tell me, 'Come to me', and I will bend space to appear before you. Tell me, 'Defend this hill', and all I do in pursuit of that goal will be greater and easier. This, I suspect, will be your main contribution to the War."
That sounded fair enough. It wasn't like he actually wanted to make Ibaraki do anything, anyway. She was perfect as she was, his natural predator, and he had no wish to spoil that. But defeating these other Servants sounded like it was going to be tough for him, so having three cheat codes would help massively.
"Sounds good to me. Um…" he cast around for something more to say. "So, you were the leader of your oni clan, right? You're going to be better than me at this whole war thing, so I guess I'll just follow your lead."
Ibaraki preened a little, smiling and nodding. "Good, you do know your place. Oni are not used to taking orders from humans. It is well you did not try."
Hah. Flattery would get you everywhere, with demons as well as humans, it seemed. This suited Ryuunosuke perfectly – he'd always been charming when he wanted to be.
"Well, it's just common sense, isn't it? You've got more experience than I do in this kind of thing, so I'd be crazy not to let you be your best. So – what should we be doing, Ibaraki?"
Once more, Ibaraki paused for thought. "You are a pathetic Master – weak in magic and unlearned. This is not your fault, but it does mean I lack access to magical energy."
"Is that a problem? You seem pretty kickass to me so far."
Ibaraki raised an eyebrow at 'kickass', but apparently chose to let it slide. "I am more powerful than I otherwise might be, as a Japanese demon summoned in Japan. However, as a Kyoto youkai summoned in Kyushu, it is hardly a great boost. And even so, I need magical energy to act. It is as though…" Ibaraki seemed to search around for a comparison. "Ah. Yes. It is as though I am a 'car', operating without 'fuel'. My relative infamy gives me a more efficient and powerful 'engine', allowing me to do more with less – but I cannot run on nothing at all. And yes, to extend the analogy, I have so far been 'running on fumes'."
"Um…" Ryuunosuke looked around at the devastation that happened when Ibaraki happened to buildings. "Really?"
Ibaraki – Servant Berserker – smirked, and stalked a distance away. "Oh yes. Prepare yourself, Master – this may hurt a little." And before Ryuunosuke could ask what she was about to do, she hefted her great bone blade in one hand and blurred it forward in an overhand strike to the ground.
The paving stones… evaporated. The ground beneath… crumbled. The earth parted like water. What was left of the buildings shook in their foundations. A great cloud of dust exploded from the point of impact, forcing Ryuunosuke to shield his eyes against the blast. Some shrapnel must have hit him, because he felt cuts like lines of fire against his body. When the blast cleared, a furrow fully twelve feet deep and twice as wide ran from the edge of the temple grounds up to Ibaraki, her sword now the centre of a crater.
She'd practically split the mountain in half, and didn't even look tired.
Ryuunosuke panted, inexplicably exhausted – and those damn cuts were burning worse than before! He looked down, and saw… nothing. He wasn't bleeding. So why the hell was his body on fire?
Ibaraki looked on, pitiless, as he squirmed and writhed. "I have just used Mana Burst, a skill to enhance the destructive power of my blows using magical energy – yours, in this case. You have very little to spare, and your body is drawing what it can from your own reserves. The pain you feel is your measly excuses for circuits overloading – spiritual organs in a physical body never designed for them, overheated and burning you from the inside out. The agony… it must be exquisite." The savage gleam in Ibaraki's eyes sent a shudder down Ryuunosuke's burning spine, and he wasn't a hundred percent sure why.
So cool. Not safe, but so cool.
"So…" he panted, trying to keep his voice under control. "Wh- ah – what do we do?"
Berserker smiled, that mad glint still there in her reptile eyes. "I can feed on souls, as any Servant can. The people of this miserable city will provide the sustenance I need to raze it to the ground, and everything I need to crush the other Servants and win the Grail. We will rest here for the day. Prepare yourself, Master. We rest here for the day, and come the night, mankind will once more learn to fear the wrath of the oni."
Ryuunosuke grinned, he couldn't help it. "Shit yes. Let's have a night on the town."
---
Tohsaka was the first target.
Not for elimination; that would come later. In Kiritsugu's vision for the first part of the War, he and Assassin would remain entirely out of sight, making the most of their stealth advantage to gather information on all other Masters and Servants. When they were ready, they would strike – unforeseeable, irresistible, and aimed at what the two of them, in their considerable experience, considered to be the greatest weakness of each pair. But not before. Certainly not in the very first few nights of the War.
No. For now, the game was gathering intelligence.
Kiritsugu would start with the two known factors – just like the Einzberns, Tohsaka and Matou were guaranteed a place in each War. Thus, they knew precisely where two of their enemies lived. The reverse was also true, of course, which was why Kiritsugu had purchased, under a false name, a second house in the suburbs west of Fuyuki.
It had been assessed that the Tohsaka house would be better defended, and better shielded against people trying to gather its secrets. For one, the Tohsaka specialty of manipulating magical energy meant that a broad suite of effects could be achieved, and empowered through their secret Jewelcraft. For another, the Tohsaka family itself was in the ascendant, while Matou had been in a long slow state of decay for as long as it had been living next door to one of its main rivals, who owned the land they lived off. Curious, that.
In any event, Kiritsugu would control his bat familiars and scout the Matou mansion – each equipped with modern video cameras, the best that money could buy, which was to say that the cameras were actually small enough that a bat could lift them with some effort. Serenity, by far the more effective even compared to an entire colony of bats, would observe the Tohsaka. She was to pay special attention to any Servants seen, and also to any avenues for infiltrating the house itself.
She had declined the use of a long-lens camera, to record her observations for posterity in the same way the bats would; her memory was trained towards recalling exactly this kind of thing with perfect clarity. Besides, there was no need to waste a perfectly good camera. Like most everything else, if she handled it for any length of time there was a risk that poison would linger on the object and harm the next user.
So, Serenity sat, perfectly still, on a rooftop overlooking the Tohsaka house. She was in spirit form, and with her presence fully concealed – as far as anyone or anything else was concerned, she simply wasn't there. Even so, she instinctively huddled in the shadows, her silhouette obscured by the chimney behind her, her mask removed to reduce the risk of shine. There was no point getting sloppy, after all.
She had been here for four hours now. Twelve hours, the night before.
Most Servants – even some Assassins – would have gotten bored long before now. But where others might have seen a deserted street, she saw a wealth of information and possibility. She may not have been the fearsome Servant in a fight, but at espionage, reconnaissance, intelligence gathering, it was undeniable: Hassan of the Serenity, the Old Man of the Mountain, was in another league.
One man, late thirties, passing in front of house from west to east, she sent to her Master, telepathically. Assessment: Salaryman, drunk, returning home after work night out. Conforms to analysis of foot traffic for the past hour. Assess peak time for potential witnesses is still 12 midnight to 0100, least disturbed time is from 0400 onward. Expect ambient light levels lowest in one hour, forty-five minutes, based on cloud cover and moonset.
Acknowledged, sent Kiritsugu immediately. If he was getting tired from the constant, mind-numbing vigil, he didn't show any signs of it in his mental voice. Quietly, Serenity was impressed. Not many could handle the strain of staring at nothing in particular for so long.
That said… Serenity was close to done with the Tohsaka house, without an actual sighting of the Servant. If they didn't show their face tonight, she would move on and survey another of Kiritsugu's known Masters. Tohsaka was the top priority for the certainty that he would be involved, but Kotomine Kirei was a close second. For some reason, he unnerved Kiritsugu: he hardly showed it, but it was obvious to Serenity. Since her Master was hardly one to scare easily, she'd made a mental note to treat Kotomine with particular caution. First, though, Tohsaka. The fact that his Servant hadn't shown themselves yet was… worrying.
The attack, when it came, was overwhelming.
From a clear sky, arrows suddenly rained down. A hundred, a thousand, ten thousand, more – beyond counting. They filled the sky, and shortly filled the ground as well. To dodge was impossible: one may as well try and dodge raindrops in a storm. Serenity could only watch, even her composure startled into breaking, as the sky turned green and fell.
On the Tohsaka house.
The green arrows slammed into a barely-visible barrier of magical energy, which rippled like water under rain. As the distortions grew more and more violent, the arrows were knocked back off-course or caught and diverted into the ground.
Serenity was no magus, but she could see the idea. Rather than stopping every projectile, the barrier was designed to dissipate its force to where it was needed most, with the initial energy supplied from a jewel – in this case, the sapphire glowing brightly on its pedestal in the courtyard. Clever, efficient, and elegant. Classic Tohsaka magecraft, in other words.
Still, it had limits. The arrows that made up the storm weren't particularly damaging… by Servant standards. But even so, the green barrage tore the ground around the barrier to shreds, and shattered every window on the street with the mere shockwave of its passing. The Tohsaka's barrier shook ever more violently, and it was clear – sooner or later, the barrier would collapse altogether. When it did…
On the other hand, maybe the arrow rain – surely Archer's work – would cease before then. With this many arrows, Serenity almost hoped it was a Noble Phantasm, and would therefore run out of magical energy quickly. The alternative was mildly horrifying.
But, an opportunity was an opportunity. With all its power directed at defending an attack from the sky, the shield had weakened considerably at the sides. Serenity flung a knife. For a moment, it was visible only as a faint white streak – then as a smooth distortion as it passed through Tohsaka's barrier with hardly a ripple.
The sapphire shattered, and the shield froze in place. Without its ability to redirect force, the barrier was crippled. Brittle.
Useless.
With a sound like breaking glass, it exploded, directing all its remaining energy outwards in a last-ditch attempt to scatter the arrows. More gathered overhead, and Serenity reflected that one knife to bring down Tohsaka's house was a pretty good deal.
And Tohsaka's Servant finally showed her hand.
"Tarrasque!" called a female voice.
What looked like a turtle shell – enormous and spiny, dark red – appeared above the Tohsaka mansion. It hovered, looking like a cross between some bizarre zeppelin and an umbrella, shielding the house from the last of Archer's assault. Eventually, the last arrow bounced uselessly off the turtle shell, and it vanished into a mass of purple-blue motes.
Serenity watched to see if there would be any more.
Nothing came, for long moments. Slowly, Serenity relaxed.
Master, your assessment? she asked. She knew he'd have been watching through her eyes.
The arrows were almost certainly Archer's work, Kiritsugu sent. I'd be surprised if that were not their Noble Phantasm, but without hearing it invoked nothing is certain. I would have guessed the protective shell was some sort of spell, suggesting Caster, but that name…
Tarrasque. Serenity hadn't heard of it in life, but her status as a Servant – called from the Throne of Heroes – had a number of advantages that weren't immediately obvious. Among them was the ability to access something of the legend and history of a Heroic Spirit one was unfamiliar with in life, given certain cues. Invoking a Noble Phantasm was a near-certain way to announce your identity, and Serenity hadn't missed this one.
Tarrasque: O Dragon's Shield that Shall Not Let a Blade Pass. A Noble Phantasm that draws on the shell of the dragon Tarrasque to greatly increase defence for the owner and her allies, and act as an impenetrable shield against physical force. Its owner, Saint Martha of Bethany, who witnessed the Prophet Isa raise her brother Lazarus from the dead, and who later travelled to France and tamed the Tarrasque. If I had to guess, Master, she most closely fits the Rider class, associated as it is with beasts and monsters.
Agreed. There was a pause in Kiritsugu's mental voice, as though unsure as to how to proceed. It was barely noticeable, though, and he continued on, as professional and confident as before. Given that, do you have any theories as to the arrows that forced Martha to such extremes as to deploy her Noble Phantasm?
None, said Serenity, without shame. Being honest, and correct, was more valuable than deluding yourself into thinking you'd seen clues you hadn't. I apologise, I was focused on the Tohsaka house and missed where they originated.
As to that, I may have an idea, Kiritsugu said.
Serenity waited patiently.
When the attack on the Tohsaka house began, I moved some of my familiars out of cover to observe. As soon as I did, they were destroyed – fast enough that not one managed to record any of the others' destruction, even after I began moving them in groups designed for maximum oversight. Given my proximity to the Matou house, common sense would suggest it was their Servant. Given their ability to accurately target and destroy my familiars, no matter how widely-spaced, common sense suggests that their Servant is the mystery Archer.
It wasn't watertight logic… but often you had to work with what you had. Sure, it could have been some unrelated, very fast and stealthy Servant, active in roughly the same area and exactly the same timeframe as Archer, taking advantage of the distraction. It wasn't impossible – in fact it was a perfect description of Serenity's own actions tonight. But Archer being the Matou Servant was, by far, the more likely scenario.
In which case, the opening salvo of the War had drawn pretty clear battle lines. The Matou – if it was truly them – had gone after the Tohsaka at the very first opportunity, with maximum force. They'd already cost the Tohsaka their home's defences, and forced their Servant to identify herself. (Well, with a little help from Serenity.)
This time, it seemed, the Matou were determined to see Tohsaka fall.
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Chapter 4 - Numb
- Location
- Probably at sea
Chapter 4 - Numb
Serenity pushed open the door to the entrance hall of the Einzbern castle, then stood out of the way as her Master staggered through it.
They'd returned home, Serenity and Kiritsugu both, after witnessing Archer's declaration of war to the Tohsakas. With all his familiars destroyed, Kiritsugu's surveillance capabilities were limited – and given how easily they'd been spotted, he was unwilling to risk attracting Archer's attention himself.
In the morning, he would create more, but for now, he could barely keep his feet. As he reached the stairs, Iri came hurrying down, in a nightdress.
"Kiritsugu, you're exhausted! Here, lean on me…"
She slipped his arm over one shoulder, and helped him up and away into the living quarters. Serenity remained in the entrance hall, thinking. She'd hardly noticed, since on the job her Master was the model of professional efficiency almost all the time, but he'd been burning the candle at both ends ever since the War started. When was the last time he'd had a full night's sleep? Back in Germany?
Instead, he'd been taking himself out at night to better direct his familiars, and make his own observations – and during the day he'd been either setting up contingencies and fallback plans with Serenity, talking with Iri, or simply rereading the dossiers on each of the likely Masters that he'd compiled. There had hardly been a moment where he wasn't doing something, and while at the time Serenity had just thought he was focused and motivated, he showed no signs of taking a break or even slowing.
Why was he pushing himself so hard? Wasn't that her job, now?
Sure, he was trying to win the War – Serenity would have been more worried if he hadn't been taking it seriously. But Kiritsugu was…she could only call it driven. It couldn't just be the prospect of winning the Grail… could it?
For someone supposedly similar enough to her for the Grail to match them together, Serenity was starting to realise she didn't actually know much about her Master.
It was time to fix that.
She wasn't going to go and disturb her Master now. He needed the rest, and some time with his wife. But there was another option.
Serenity wandered the empty, dark halls, silent as a ghost. The stone was thick, and the carpets were soft, but it was a dreary place, and full of drafts. In the daylight, it might be grand. With the fires and lights lit, it might be cosy. But this was the wartime headquarters of the Einzberns, and no-one involved in its construction had considered comfort to be of any importance.
It wasn't like Serenity wasn't used to places like this. But it still made her uncomfortable, because while her Master may have seemed to be suited to this on the surface, she'd seen him interact with his wife and his daughter and this… didn't fit. It almost seemed as if he was forcing himself somehow. Again, why?
And if it was the case, then as his Servant, Serenity needed to be prepared for any strain that might cause.
She found the door she was after, obvious from the light spilling from underneath it. Serenity astralised to walk through it – then stopped. Fading back into view, she raised one hand and knocked, hesitantly.
"Hello?" called Hisau Maiya's voice from within.
"It is I," Serenity said. "Assassin. May I please come in?"
There was the sound of footsteps, and Maiya pulled the door open, peering out at Serenity. "Assassin? What is it? Does Kiritsugu need something?"
"No. I wished to talk to you. May I please come in?" Serenity repeated.
"Why- I mean, yes, of course." Maiya retreated inside the room, sat down on the bed, then stood up, apparently unsure of how to act. "Would you care to sit?"
"That is very kind… but not safe. Extended contact with objects may leave traces of poison, and I do not wish to cause harm. I will stand."
Maiya's room was small – still larger than any space Serenity could remember calling her own, but small, clearly intended for a single person. The furniture wasn't exactly cheap – this was still the Einzbern castle, after all – but it was simple and functional. A plain set of drawers, a dusty wardrobe, a small sink with a mirror. In the middle of the castle as it was, there were no windows, and while the lamplight was bright, there were shadows that made the room feel even smaller than it was.
Serenity instinctively edged towards one of the shadows, then stopped herself. It was peculiar, this urge to hide. She was sure she hadn't been quite this bad about it when she was alive, at least not when she wasn't on a mission – was this her status as an Assassin-class Servant affecting her mind in subtle ways? There were worse things, she supposed.
But yes, where Maiya had chosen to sleep was curious. When they'd arrived in Fuyuki, Iri had naturally chosen the master bedroom for herself and Kiritsugu – or the Master bedroom, as she said while making the face of someone who knows what they've just said is hilarious but is waiting for everyone to catch on.
And then again when neither Kiritsugu nor Serenity burst out laughing. Five more times.
But every other room in the whole castle was free. Why did Maiya confine herself so?
Serenity asked her.
"Ah. This room is close enough to Kiritsugu's to be able to be alerted to an incoming Servant attack, while far enough to potentially allow flanking manoeuvres on an enemy Master that invades the castle. As well, it is easily defendable should the need arise."
Serenity stayed quiet, because she was a professional liar and she knew when she was being lied to. All that stuff might have been true, but it wasn't why Maiya had chosen this room.
Sure enough, Maiya fidgeted slightly, looked down and said, "And also, I'm just not used to all this… richness. It feels wrong. The beds are too soft, I don't understand why everything has to be so fancy, and all those big rooms just feel like a waste of space. This much feels like… mine."
Well, Serenity could spot a conversation opener when she saw one.
"I imagine that working with Master is often a little more uncomfortable," she offered.
Maiya nodded. "Yes. Before he was hired by the Einzberns, we were comfortable, but certainly nothing like this. Mostly, we lived in a series of cheap motels or rented apartments, and I continued to do so after he left his weapons with me and moved to Germany." A slight frown, at this.
We, noted Serenity. "So, you often worked with Master? I suspected… his weapons seemed very important to him. To have left them with you, I'm sure he must trust you greatly."
Maiya smiled, looking grateful. "Yes… he has no reason not to. Everything I am, I owe to him. In many ways, I am the closest person to him."
Ah. There it was. Serenity had been right in choosing to come to Maiya. If anyone could tell her why her Master was determined to reach the Grail, it was her. All that was needed was to extract the information, as she had with countless hundreds of targets before, with most of them never even realising they were being interrogated.
And… she had promised herself she would make an effort to bond with the woman. She had. Even if she had an ulterior motive, she could still try and make friends. It wasn't dishonest. It wasn't.
Serenity hated herself sometimes.
But she still had a job to do. She took off her mask, because people responded better to a doe-eyed young girl than to a featureless skull. Maiya's eyes widened in surprise – if Serenity had to guess, Maiya had just assumed the mask was part of her 'costume' and that she basically had no face under there.
If she'd been any other leader of the Society, she'd have been right. But as an infiltrator, Serenity was more useful with an intact face. Or several.
"Please…" started Serenity. "Tell me about how you met Kiritsugu. I am interested to learn how someone such as him came to have a partner."
Maiya blinked, clearly taken off guard. "Of course, although it isn't a very interesting story. I was taken by the army and forced to be a child soldier, in some country long ago. Kiritsugu rescued me, took me away, and gave me an identity of my own. Hisau Maiya isn't my real name, it's just what was on the first fake passport Kiritsugu arranged for me, and I've used it ever since."
A girl, taken from her home and forced into a life of violence, until even her name was stripped from her. Yes, Serenity and Maiya were really far too similar.
"Did you ever attempt to recover your original name?" she asked.
"No. Kiritsugu offered, many times, but I have no interest in exploring my past before he found me. I don't even know what country I came from, and now I don't care. If there was one thing…" Maiya's cool expression broke for a moment. "I had a son. While in the army. I don't know who his father was, he could have been any of them, but still he was precious to me. He was taken from me after he was born, and I don't know what happened to him. For all I know, he lives there still. Kiritsugu killed the warlords and broke up the army, after I told him where their secret bases were, but the peace lasted only a few short years. Perhaps he too is a soldier. He would be… perhaps twelve now?"
Serenity wanted to put a hand on the other woman's shoulder. She settled for saying, "I'm sorry to hear about it."
Maiya shrugged. Serenity could still see the tension in her shoulders, though. "It was a long time ago. I am happy to work with Kiritsugu now."
"Forgive my asking," Serenity pressed, "and please do not take this as my trying to subvert you, but I'm genuinely curious. What exactly is the difference between you fighting for Kiritsugu and you fighting for your old warlords? Both make use of you for your skill at arms, do they not? Why did you hate the one and follow the other, even to something like the Grail War?"
"Well, for a start, I sleep with Kiritsugu of my own will," Maiya said wryly. "It took a long time to actually make him realise that was what I was after, in fact… but for another, the warlords – and the captains and sergeants under them – only ever wanted power, enough to push themselves to the top of the filthy heap that was that place's only government. Kiritsugu… has a dream."
Serenity's ears perked up. Not that anyone could tell from her expression, which she kept politely interested. "Oh?"
"I don't know the full extent of it, or how he's come to think this way, but despite how he looks, Kiritsugu is a gentle man. The gentlest. No-one hates violence more than him – which is why he will fight to prevent more."
That… was not the answer Serenity had been expecting. "I… do not understand."
"Kiritsugu's targets are always chosen with care, and he prepares extensively in an attempt to minimise casualties. Once that is done, he will act, without hesitation or mercy, even if he must slaughter innocents to get at his target. Afterwards, he grieves, and I comfort him. But it is all for the sake of ending conflict. He has burned down buildings with children inside, to stop a vampire from destroying a whole town. He has derailed a train, killing all onboard, to end the life of a mage planning to introduce a fire demon to the heart of a nuclear reactor. Before he met me, he even shot down a passenger plane with his own mother onboard, all to save the lives of the same people who reviled him for it." Maiya paused, more visibly emotional than Serenity had ever seen her. "No-one understands. To them, he is a monster like no other, but the truth is, Emiya Kiritsugu is a man who despises killing, and would like nothing more than to stop. But he can't. Not while people are in danger."
Serenity was putting the pieces together now. "So the War…"
"Yes. For his wish, he will end all conflict and suffering in this world. To achieve it, he will wade through an ocean of blood, commit crimes unthinkable to anyone else. No tactic too low, no sacrifice too great. Only the Grail matters – getting him and you to the end in one piece."
Maiya finished talking, but Serenity's head was still spinning. So. That was the connection, the reason the Grail had matched Emiya Kiritsugu and Hassan of the Serenity. Killers who hated killing, murderers who wanted nothing more than to live in peace. For that… Kiritsugu had decided to stake his happiness, throwing his morals into the fire in pursuit of some greater good. Serenity had always had her faith, her belief that no matter what, all was in the loving hands of Allah, and that all paths would lead to Paradise in the end. Kiritsugu, it seemed, had placed all his faith in the Grail.
But without a wish-granting artefact, how long would he have gone on like this? Serenity knew, better than anyone, how hard it was to go against your fundamental nature like that. Eventually, her mind had broken. Softly, quietly, as expected of one of the world's greatest assassins, but broken nonetheless. Forced to infiltrate, seduce, fall in love, then kill, destroying the semblance of happiness she gained with her own hands.
Kiritsugu cared about everyone he killed – cared, in a general way, about all of humanity.
Serenity had to win the Grail. Not just for her own wish, not even to see Kiritsugu's dream of a world without conflict realised – although she wanted that, very much – but because if she did not, and Kiritsugu still survived the War, she had a horrible feeling that her Master was on borrowed time before he destroyed himself.
---
Last night had been… well, kind of underwhelming, actually.
It had started great. Ryuunosuke and Ibaraki had descended on an unwitting Fuyuki like the proverbial wolf on the fold, full of fire and fury…
…until Ibaraki explained that actually, she would need to be a little bit discreet about this, because if she just charged around smashing everything within reach, it would be a giant neon sign that would signal it was time for every Servant in the area to come and kick their asses.
Well, she didn't say it in those words, but Ryuunosuke got the idea.
So, their big debut basically consisted of him wandering the late-night streets of Fuyuki until he ran into someone walking alone, with no witnesses to run off and alert the authorities, at which point Ibaraki emerged from thin air and tore them to shreds. Which was cool, obviously, and Ryuunosuke had laughed in glee and astonishment the first time, it was just… it was kind of boring after the first five times?
He'd asked Ibaraki to try and make it a bit more entertaining, but she'd only fixed him with an imperious stare and said, "I am no performing monkey, summoner, and you would do well to remember it." He hadn't pushed, and had just tried to get what joy he could from the look on people's faces when they realised what kind of monster Ibaraki was, but still. It was a bit dissatisfying.
He had managed to catch that moment when the sky turned green and fell on one of the houses in the suburbs, though. He and Ibaraki hadn't been anywhere near, but it was kind of obvious. Now that had been exciting. It wasn't so much the potential for death, although the idea of it landing on a crowd of people really was awesome, it was just… it looked cool. What? It wasn't like death and killing was the only thing he liked. He could appreciate when something was awesome, and 'causing the sky to darken with a rain of cosmic arrows' was metal as fuck.
Not quite as metal as summoning a fiery demon from Hell to wage war against wizards, but then Ryuunosuke had really lucked out there.
In the end, though, the night had been pretty boring all things considered, and Ryuunosuke was happy to go back to the temple as soon as Ibaraki started complaining about how tiresome it all was. The irregular sleep he'd had wasn't doing him any favours, and all he'd wanted to do was have breakfast then go to bed, so he could accompany Ibaraki the following night.
Which brought him to his first problem.
Ibaraki hadn't destroyed the kitchen when she wrecked the rest of the temple, thankfully. But… well, what monks were happy to love off and what Ryuunosuke was happy to live off were two very different things. It wasn't like there was nothing in the cupboards or fridges, it was just, you know. Unprepared. Ryuunosuke didn't have anything against cooking, but he preferred to leave it to other people if possible. Like, say, convenience store workers.
So, here he was, just after sunrise, strolling around Fuyuki once more. He'd told Ibaraki she didn't have to come, but she'd decided to anyway, and was currently lurking somewhere. It was useful, that – both because it meant she could come out of nowhere and attack, but also because she would draw attention, what with the horns, claws, eyes, and tusks. And the hair. And the banana-yellow kimono. On the other hand…
"Hey, Ibaraki."
What is it?
"I was wondering-"
Silence, fool! You appear as one addled, muttering to himself. If you must talk, reply telepathically, as I do.
Um. Ryuunosuke didn't actually know how to do that. He gave it his best shot.
Like this?
…
Apparently not.
Ah, screw it. He had a better plan. Ryuunusuke rummaged in his pockets and brought out his phone – having a proper mobile was quite rare, and expensive, but what could he say? He found tech cool. He brought it up to his ear.
"Hey, Ibaraki."
… what is that?
"This? Yeah, I'm on my mobile phone. I can talk to you while just walking around, how cool is that?" He nodded at a mother and son on the other side of the street, who were giving him disapproving glances at how he was acting in public. Eh, screw them.
Hmph. Hardly an elegant solution. Although I do applaud your playacting.
"Haha, I know. Hey, anyway, I was wondering – can all Servants turn into ghosts, or is it, you know, a youkai thing?"
It is not, as you put it, a 'youkai thing'. All Servants, regardless of origin, are in essence nothing more than very powerful spirits. As such, they can materialise or enter a spirit form at will. While in such a state, they are impossible to detect for anyone who does not have spiritual senses. A Servant will almost always be able to tell that another Servant is there, as we have a sense for each other. A mage may get a general impression, a dim blur at the very best. You, I suspect, will know nothing.
"Sounds like a good thing I got you, then."
He couldn't see it, but he could tell when Ibaraki was smirking. Naturally. Be aware, though Master. Even I am unlikely to detect Assassin before they strike.
Right, there was that. Ibaraki had gone through the Class system with him, and he'd tried his best to remember it. But, honestly, did it have to be so confusing? English was never his strong suit, and this was what all the Class names were in – which he found particularly unfair, since, according to Ibaraki, none of the three founding families spoke English natively, and the War was always intended to be held here in Japan. Why on Earth had they gone for English?
And then there were all the exceptions, which apparently made up half the rules. Ibaraki was a Berserker, but she was acting pretty sane so far – in fact, she was a lot more on top of things than he was. When he'd pointed this out to her, she'd replied that she was an oni, and that a tendency towards violent wrath and random destructive urges was entirely normal for her.
Fair enough.
In the end, he'd just decided to roll with it. If there was anything really important, he trusted Ibaraki to let him know as and when it came up.
At this time in the morning, the convenience store was actually pretty busy – salarymen stopping off for coffee on the way to work, shift workers just getting off. There was a hush as Ryuunosuke entered, and everyone looked round nervously. It was like that scene in a Western, where the new gunslinger walks into the saloon and everyone stops what they're doing, and Ryuunosuke resisted the urge to announce that he was the new sheriff in town and that things would be different from now on, yessiree. Instead, he gave a smile and nonchalantly stepped into an aisle, and everyone went back to what they were doing.
"What was that all about?" he said – quieter now, because talking on the phone was rude in a store, and he really would be kicked out if he caused a fuss.
While none of these pathetic weaklings can detect my presence, I am still the most powerful and malevolent spirit they will ever have come across. A little of that bleeds across, making even normal humans nervous and on edge. They will not see it as anything past 'bad vibes'… and likely attribute it to you. Likely they assume you are some dangerous and intimidating figure, like a warlord or executioner.
Oh, great. "Wasn't I supposed to not be drawing attention?"
From the other Masters, yes. From these sheep? While I am with you, you have nothing to fear. You could engage the entire constabulary in battle and emerge victorious. I often found that a worthwhile way to pass an afternoon. Ibaraki sighed, a distinctly weird experience to have inside your head. However, that would certainly bring the other Masters down on our heads, yes. In any case – none of the people here would go so far as to actually accuse you. They will dismiss it as their own foolishness, or at the very least as none of their business.
Well, he could see that. No-one wanted to get involved with anyone dangerous if they could avoid it. Given how he was dressed, and the state of Fuyuki, they probably just thought he was Yakuza. He wasn't – Ryuunosuke had always been very careful not to step on the Fujimura group's toes, even more so than he had with the cops. At least the cops had to follow rules.
Popping the phone onto his shoulder, he browsed the selection of ready meals and easy-cook foods on offer, and shovelled about a weeks' worth of instant ramen into his shopping basket, followed by some snacks, drinks, a couple of cereal bars. All very unhealthy, but probably not much more than, you know, participating in a war against wizards and monsters.
He almost didn't notice a couple of packs of candy falling off the shelf all by themselves and into his basket as well. He would have said something… but he could feel Ibaraki's stare on the back of his neck, and decided not to make an issue of it.
He was just about to take it all to the counter, when something caught his eye. Putting down the shopping so he could talk properly into the phone, he said, "Hey, did you catch the news today? Just seen it."
What are you – ah.
In the newspaper stand, a familiar image had caught his eye – even in black and white, the streaks of light he'd seen from far off were instantly recognisable. He picked up a copy.
"Says here it's a fireworks accident. Tore up a whole bunch of the street, it's all blocked off for repairs now. Also messed up the grounds around this one house – not available for comment, apparently – but otherwise, nothing, doesn't really go into a whole lot of detail. Newspaper doesn't make it seem like it was as big a deal as we thought. What do you make of that?"
Understandable. Part of the job of the moderator of the War is to keep the existence of magic secret. It is hardly surprising he has concocted some cover story. It is puzzling one of the Masters was not able to restore the street as though nothing had happened, but I suppose with Archer on the loose they may not have risked it. Why? What does this say to you?
Ryuunosuke couldn't quite hide his grin. "Well, now. You didn't mention there was a whole organisation designed to help us keep everything secret. I knew the moderators didn't care about casualties, or we'd have heard something about last night already, but you mean to tell me they really don't care how much of a mess you make as long as they can explain it away and keep all the weird stuff under wraps?"
'Under wraps?' If I understand you correctly… then I suppose so. They are magi, and magi in any age are selfish and cruel. At least we oni are honest about it.
Ryuunosuke put the paper back on the rack, and sauntered off to pay for his groceries, a spring in his step. "I think it's time we stopped messing around feeding you piecemeal. If something like that isn't going to raise any eyebrows… then it looks like we've got a lot more leeway than I thought."
Tonight looked like it was going to be much more fun.
Chapter 5 - Overdose
- Location
- Probably at sea
Chapter 5 - Overdose
Fuyuki was, all things considered, a quiet city. What little crime there was was usually contained and controlled by the Yakuza, and under Fujimura Raiga's leadership they were much less of a violence group and more of a traditional organisation – they dealt in vice and corruption, mainly, and unrest on the streets was bad for business. Thus, Fuyuki's residents were unused to having their daily lives disturbed by violence.
(It was in the Tohsaka's interest to make it this way, and so it was.)
Nevertheless, on two suburban streets, the scene could only be described as a warzone. The pavement was pitted and cracked, countless potholes dug out of the road as though it had suffered a strafing run from a fighter jet. A telephone pole had actually fallen completely, and only a concerted effort from residents and the government workers sent to help had shifted it so it no longer blocked traffic. Every other window in the houses on both sides was cracked, or shattered altogether.
They'd said it was a fireworks accident late last night, and of course that was what it must be. It hadn't looked like any firework any of the residents were familiar with, but what else would you call a rain of green light falling from the sky and ruining the neighbourhood?
The old-timers had claimed all sorts of things throughout the day, blaming the government, or aliens, or demons. One man had insisted he'd seen similar strange happenings when he was a boy, sixty years ago, and warned darkly that it would get worse before it got better.
He may well have been right. Although there had been no more massive… whatever it was, every so often things would just… break. Streetlights, telephone poles, sections of wall or fence – out of nowhere, they suddenly had a tendency to explode for no reason, as though smashed by some great force.
There were rumours that it was some malicious prank, a group of kids with explosives on a campaign of terror, or even something worse. The police denied any such thing, but it was clear the problem was getting out of hand. Every time a section of the street was repaired, something else would break, as though someone was trying to hinder the repair effort – or just terrorise and harass the residents.
Only one house remained pristine, spared from whatever calamity had befallen the area. The locals knew that it was the Tohsaka house… and beyond that, nothing at all. While Tohsaka Tokiomi himself was something of a local figure – hardly famous, except in the right circles, but seemingly involved at some level in a little bit of everything – not one of the families on the street had ever been inside his home.
Those families with young children knew a little more about the daughter, Rin, mostly in the form of rumours repeated in awed tones by their children after school. But even then, the Tohsaka girl had only very rarely deigned to visit another's house, and certainly never invited anyone back. She was out of town with her mother, lately. The gossips made much of the fact that Tokiomi had remained behind.
They made much more of the other woman that could occasionally be glimpsed through the windows of the house.
She looked like a nun, some said, although others thought she was, not to put too fine a point on it, merely wearing a 'nun' costume. It wasn't anyone's business – of course – but she only showed up just as Tohsaka Aoi left, and didn't that just say it all? In the lurid imaginations of a dozen bored housewives, deliciously unspeakable things were going on in the mysterious house. As night fell, more than one watcher kept a discreet eye on the windows, for one reason or another.
None, however, watched quite as discreetly as Servant Assassin. In the shadows as always, she watched, and listened to the conversations around her, and built a picture in her head.
Observing Tohsaka's house might have seemed to be a bit pointless now that they knew who his Servant was – but there was still a lot of valuable information to be learned. The apparent feud between Matou and Tohsaka was really the only game in town at the moment, and if anything developed Kiritsugu wanted to know of it immediately. At the insistence of Iri, however, he was staying home for the night, piggybacking on Serenity's senses while firmly confined to bed.
Among other things, he wanted to know what the next step was. After Archer's opening salvo, the rest of the night had been peaceful – only for them to begin taking potshots at the Tohsaka house during the day. For hours, whenever Tohsaka or his Servant were visible through the windows, sure as sunrise an arrow would blast out of the blue sky, aimed unerringly for their hearts.
It wasn't technically against the rules, but it was pushing it. It didn't help that the Tohsaka defences had seemingly been repaired, a clear gem resting where the sapphire had, which seemed designed to protect the house at the expense of the street around it.
Whenever an arrow entered the new bounded field, it wasn't diverted in the slightest – it simply emerged from another part of the bubble without losing momentum, usually to drill into what was left of the street beyond. Once again, it was an elegant solution to a problem of overwhelming force… but it wasn't doing anything to help keep the secret of magic under wraps. Even for those without eyes to see, the constant, low-level disruption was more than enough to be suspicious.
Now, however, it was night, and the streets were clear once more. Without the innocent population of Fuyuki to get in the way…
Serenity crouched between two buildings, quite far back. She had no illusions – no way was she risking getting caught in Archer's Noble Phantasm. Eyes fixed on the house, she waited. If the War was to progress, it would progress here. Yes… surely…
---
Ryuunosuke knew he wasn't really contributing a whole lot to this whole 'Grail War' business, but he did have one advantage over Ibaraki – his knowledge of the current era in general and Fuyuki in particular. So he'd sat, he'd had a proper think, and he'd come up with a brilliant idea.
From last night, it was obvious that whoever was supposed to be supervising this war didn't actually care about collateral damage, only that there were no witnesses. But sneakily picking off stragglers, the homeless population and night workers like they had been was taking too long to build up Ibaraki's power. What they needed was a big group of people all in one place, that wouldn't get the chance to escape.
With a spring in his step, Ryuunosuke walked down the streets of Fuyuki's entertainment district, such as it was. Fuyuki wasn't exactly Tokyo… but it wasn't like there was no nightlife. The Yaks had an interest in running the scene even if no-one else did, and with Shinto under development east of the river, there was a lot of real estate just waiting to be turned into profit.
The night hadn't got properly cold yet – and Ryuunosuke's new black jacket did a lot to ward off what little chill there was in any case – and the lights from the restaurants and bars cast the street in a warm glow. The air smelled of food and alcohol, and there was a pleasant buzz of conversation all around. It was a lovely night to be out.
Ryuunosuke couldn't keep the grin off his face. This was going to be so cool.
What are you smirking at, summoner? You look a fool. Remember our plan. We are not to draw attention to ourselves… not before the proper time, at any rate. He couldn't see Ibaraki, but he knew by now when she was smiling nastily.
He shrugged. The street was full of people who stood out more than him. It wasn't anything to worry about. "What do you mean 'our' plan? This is all me, far as I can see."
True, you had an adequate idea, and provided a suitable location. It was well thought… for you. But summoner, you are a moderately successful serial killer. I was the general of the Mount Ooe oni. Do not pretend my suggestions did not refine the scheme of attack.
"Eh. I'm more a big-picture guy. Admit it, this is going to be great."
Oh, I'm sure. I am… moderately impressed with your usefulness, summoner. You are pathetic and puny, but often knowledge of the land can carry a pathetic and puny army to victory over a superior force.
"Was… that a compliment?" A disembodied huff was all the answer he received, and Ryuunosuke laughed out loud.
Up ahead was their destination. Their target. Off in a dark corner, down a side street, a set of stairs led down to a sort of courtyard. At this time of night, there wasn't a large queue, and the bouncer fidgeted impatiently.
It was a bar – The Copenhagen, proclaimed the wooden sign outside. Not a very special bar, all things considered – there were better, there were worse, and there were certainly cheaper. But this particular bar did have a couple of big advantages, that made it perfect for what he had planned. And if Ryuunosuke hadn't been a local, hadn't spent some pretty disappointing nights in this very venue, he'd never have known about it.
Big advantage one: this was a Yakuza bar. Not an exclusive one, it was open to the public, but there was a hefty drug trade being run out of this place. Which meant that, whatever happened, there would be no police response tonight. The Yaks tended to look after themselves. However, it did mean a little extra security – in this case, a steel door that needed to be opened from the inside, once the bouncer on the outside gave the correct signal.
Ryuunosuke waited until everyone that was left to go inside had done so, then strolled towards the entrance, giving a jaunty wave to the bouncer, a short and thickset man in a black jacket and trousers as he reached the bottom of the stairs.
He was dressed rather like Ryuunosuke was at the moment, in fact.
"Hey, buddy!"
"Hey…" replied the bouncer, uncertainly. "You got ID there, friend?"
Ryuunosuke made a show of patting himself down. "Uh… sure, just let me…" He fumbled around in his left pocket, then his right, then reached inside his jacket.
"Look, you know what," said the bouncer, "I'll take your word for it, I know you're old enough, just get inside-"
"No, no, couldn't possibly, I know I had it just here…" Ryuunosuke rummaged some more. Inside jacket pocket, back trouser pocket. He pulled out his wallet, his face lit up, and the bouncer motioned him inside impatiently. Then Ryuunosuke put it back. "No, not in there, took it out for work…"
He searched himself for a few more seconds, then looked up apologetically.
"Ah, crap, left it in my other jacket."
"It's fine," said the bouncer through gritted teeth. "Just get in and we'll say no more-"
"No, no, that wouldn't be right. You know what, I feel bad for wasting your time like this, so how about I take your spot on the door for a while and you go inside and have yourself a drink?"
The bouncer looked at him as if he'd gone mad. "Uh… no. Look, if you're just here to mess about, I'll have to move you on."
Ryuunosuke sucked his teeth in mock disappointment. "Well, it's your choice, but this next customer looks really difficult to deal with…"
"What next-"
There was a burst of fire in the deserted courtyard, blinding Ryuunosuke for a moment. When the spots cleared from his eyes, Ibaraki was there, holding the bouncer to the wall by his throat. He struggled and clawed at her hand, but he may as well have been a toddler next to Ibaraki.
"Guardsman," she hissed. "I desire entry to this tavern. Admit me, and I will kill you."
"Um-" started Ryuunosuke. He thought she might have gotten a bit lost somewhere there.
"Or rather, I will merely kill you," clarified Ibaraki. "If you bar my path, I will take the trouble to mutilate your soul as well. You will arrive at any afterlife you are destined for a crippled wreck. You may be missing your arm. Or your face. Or your higher emotional functions. Do you doubt me?"
The bouncer shook his head, terrified.
"Then let me through. Be swift!" Ibaraki dropped the man, who collapsed to his knees, coughing. He would have remained there – but at Ibaraki's snarl he lurched to his feet, and gave a series of knocks on the door. There was the sound of a bolt sliding back, and with a creak the door opened.
"Very good," Ibaraki said. With a lightning-fast shove, she dashed the bouncer's head against the wall, and stalked inside.
Ryuunosuke looked at the corpse, already starting to stain the stone floor. "Should have gone inside and had a drink when you had the chance, buddy. Still…" He pushed the door closed and began searching the dead man's clothes.
The other big advantage to this place – and the reason why he'd chosen it for their little outing tonight – was simple. This was an old building, and it didn't really conform to any of the newer regulations about what bars had to have. Usually this would have been caught during regular health and safety inspections… but for the Yakuza, that kind of thing happened to other people. So this particular bar was missing a few essential things that most other bars would have had.
Fire exits, for instance.
There was one way in, and one way out. And a demon stood between a hundred people and the only escape.
Ryuunosuke found a set of keys, and locked the door shut just as the screams started.
"… I guess you don't want what they're having."
---
Hotaruzuka Otoko – or Neko-san, to her friends – wasn't supposed to be working at the Copenhagen. But although her dad was mostly a pretty good manager for the place, he was pretty terrible about finding people to cover shifts, so she helped him out whenever he asked.
If the police had ever come in for a random check, they'd have been in a lot of trouble, letting a fourteen-year-old serve alcohol… but that wasn't exactly likely. She'd known for a while that the Copenhagen had ties to what passed for the criminal underbelly of Fuyuki. It wasn't anything anyone had specifically told her, she'd just… picked up the idea somewhere that she lived and worked at a Yakuza bar.
It was fine. Really, it was. Sure, a lot of the guys that came in looked scary, with shaved heads or tattoos or just a look in their eyes that set Neko-san on edge. But not once had any of those guys made trouble – and on the rare occasions that someone else had, those guys had very politely asked them to leave.
(Finding out that they worked for her classmate's family broke the rest of Neko-san's nervousness about them – because Fujimura Taiga was so chirpy and cheerful and energetic that she couldn't imagine anything really bad being connected to her.)
So, yes, Neko-san had always felt safe in the company of Yakuza.
Until now.
The bar was silent, all conversation stopped while everyone stared at the girl in the banana-yellow kimono who had just entered, and at the severed head she'd thrown onto the floor.
She seemed… to be on her way to costume party? A kimono wasn't that weird a thing to wear, although they weren't usually quite so short. But as Neko-san stared, she noticed little details that weren't quite right. The hands and bare feet, red, clawed, demonic. The horns, rising up from her forehead. The eyes, catlike and malevolent.
"Greetings," said the girl. "I am Ibaraki-douji. I am here to drink, and then to kill you all. I will have five bottles of your finest sake, to start."
No-one said anything. The girl – Ibaraki-douji – frowned, and tossed her long blonde hair over one shoulder. "If I must serve myself, I shall become cross. Is this not a tavern? You, girl!" She pointed at Neko-san. "I do not wish to repeat myself. Bring me wine, or you will not like what follows."
There was a scraping noise as a chair was pulled back, and Ishiyama Gori slowly rose to his feet. At six foot five, there was a lot of rising to do. His shaved head, scars and neck tattoo marked him as one of the proper Yakuza, and his mountain of muscle was what earned him the nickname 'Gorilla-chan' among his comrades. He shambled over to Ibaraki, and put one massive paw on one tiny shoulder. "You should leave, girl," he rumbled.
There was… a blur. Gorilla-chan howled in pain, clutching his wrist – which now bent past a ninety-degree angle.
"You call me a mere girl? I am an oni of Mt Ooe, human, and I did not give you permission to lay hands on me," snarled the girl, orange eyes blazing. "I will get to you in time. However, as I have said many times by now, I wish to drink first. Can… can you all understand me? I am sure I am speaking your filthy modern tongue correctly…"
Gorilla-chan swung one huge fist. Neko-san had seen him break inch-thick boards with those hands, and he'd been putting less effort in then than he was now. Ibaraki didn't defend, but leaned into the punch, catching it on her horns.
The blow connected. The girl didn't move. Gorilla-chan's other wrist snapped.
The girl brought her head forward in a vicious headbutt. Short as she was, her horns connected squarely with Gorilla-chan's stomach… and sunk in with a sickening crack. The huge man went sprawling, gasping for breath but unable to fully inhale. The girl watched him struggle with his collapsed lung, eyes pitiless.
Most of the patrons were cowering in their seats, but more men stood up, drawing guns, knives, and even a cheap sword. Ibaraki sneered. "You insist on dying first? I refuse to oblige you. For your impudence, you can break and suffer until I get round to devouring your soul." She spread her arms, and grinned, showing tusks. "Come!"
And come they did. A short man led the charge, thrusting his knife low, while two men in white suits closed in from either side, aiming to trap Ibaraki between them. At the last moment, the girl twisted, and the knife scraped off her stomach as though it was trying to cut stone not flesh. One hand – red, clawed, demonic – seized the knife holder's wrist before he could pull back, and the other found his shoulder, digging in painfully.
With a wrench, the girl pulled back, and the arm came loose. The girl swung left and down, bringing her improvised club through one of her attacker's legs, then brought it overarm down on the other's shoulder. All three men crumpled.
CRACK.
Neko-san flinched, as the sound of a gunshot filled the cramped bar. She wasn't the only one, and there were shrieks from the unprepared patrons.
More followed, as the three Yakuza with guns opened fire, stepping into the open space in the centre of the room to get a clear shot.
The girl seemed more confused than anything, as bullets whizzed by her. "Firearms? They seem to have advanced well these past centuries. But if you think your modern weapons will avail you…"
There was a blur, and she stood right next to the men, crushing the centre shooter's elbow in one hand. There was a wet crunch as she squeezed, and the man's face went pale. "… you are sadly mistaken."
A pair of guns fired at her, point blank, and she twitched aside to avoid the bullets. The motion yanked the poor guy she was holding off his feet, and the demon took the time to bury all five fingers in his stomach as he fell. The guns tracked her, but Ibaraki batted one aside with such force that it shattered against the far wall, and grasped the other with a grip like a vice. Slowly, she placed the barrel against her forehead, and fixed the last gunman with an imperious stare.
"Fire away, human, if it will make you feel better," she said. "Come on! Be the hero, slay the oni!"
He didn't need telling twice, immediately emptying the clip at point blank range.
It had no effect at all, and Ibaraki smirked. "Too bad." With a twitch of one hand, she reduced the gun to so much crushed scrap, then clubbed its owner in the jaw with the wreckage. Teeth flew, and the man's head bounced off the floor hard enough to leave a stain.
And that was that. Everyone that had been willing to fight was down – and, true to the demon girl's word, none had been killed. Crippled, mutilated, broken, but not dead. Yet.
An office lady close to the door made a run for it, scrambling out of her seat to stumble for the exit. Ibaraki didn't seem concerned.
"Fools," she said, apparently to the room at large. "As if I would simply leave an escape behind me. I told you I was here to devour you. Did you not believe me?"
There was a moan of despair, and the sound of hands desperately hammering on the metal door that led to safety.
"Excuse me," said Ibaraki, "I will be back."
She stalked towards the would-be escapee, and seized her by the scruff of her jacket. She dragged the woman back towards the table she'd been sitting at, where what looked like her work colleagues watched in horror.
"Do not be alarmed," continued the demon. "I bear no ill will against you for trying to flee. I will not make you suffer unduly." The woman whimpered in relief, and began stammering out her thanks. "However, I do need to start somewhere – so thank you for volunteering."
With that, she heaved the woman onto the table and hopped up, straddling her.
"Wait!" she screamed. "Please! I have a mother at home, a family – don't kill me!"
"Why on earth do you think that would matter?" asked Ibaraki, sounding honestly confused. "Honestly, human…" She flexed her claws, and ran them down her victim's cheek, drawing blood.
"No! Guys, don't just sit there! Help! Anyone!" The man's friends looked stricken, but none of them made a move. They just sat, frozen in fear, while Ibaraki opened her victim's jacket and shirt.
"If anyone wishes to grant you a reprieve, they are free to do so," said Ibaraki casually. "All they need do is volunteer."
The woman's pleading eyes found a young man, sat bolt upright and staring at the scene in front of him. He opened his mouth, then shut it with a gulp and looked away. The woman's screams redoubled.
"Enough of that," said Ibaraki. She leaned over, mouth open…
"I'll take her place," came a voice. Every eye in the room found the speaker. An old man stood up from his seat, and stepped forward, legs shaking. "Take me, instead of her. I've not long left for this world, anyway."
"Indeed not," said the demon. "Very well, the bargain is struck. Your life, in place of hers." She rolled herself off the sobbing woman in one smooth motion, and crossed the bar to stand in front of the old man. She put one clawed hand on his wrinkled cheek, and although the man flinched he stood firm. "Hm. I admire your courage, human. This will be swift."
Her thumb jerked, and the man slumped, blood bubbling from his throat. Ibaraki lay him down on the floor almost gently, bent down and…
…well, ate him.
Despite her words, it wasn't especially quick, and Neko-san would remember for the rest of her life the twitches and aborted attempts at screams the old man made as he was eaten alive. No-one moved, no-one said a word. Neko-san wanted to break the silence, to run while the monster was distracted… but fear glued her feet to the floor. She clung to the hope, some pure prey instinct, that if she stayed quiet, didn't draw attention, she would be left alone. The woman who had been saved clutched her jacket to her chest and wept silently.
Eventually, it was done. It had taken no more than a few minutes of horror. Ibaraki straightened, wiping her mouth.
"Excellent. I feel stronger already. Now…" she turned back to the woman she'd let go. "Where were we?"
The woman paled, looking as though… well, as though she'd been granted a stay of execution only to be told it was going ahead anyway. "But… you said… he volunteered…"
"Hm? Oh, yes. He did indeed volunteer and take your place." With a sudden rush, Ibaraki was there, pinning the woman to the table. "As first to be eaten."
Neko-san felt her stomach drop, and realised something she'd been trying to deny admitting to herself ever since the demon girl walked into the room.
No-one was getting out of here alive.
---
It is done. Ryuunosuke jerked at the sudden unexpected voice in his head, then relaxed. Checking his watch, it had been a couple of hours since he'd locked Ibaraki inside the bar with everyone. The sounds coming from inside had been very interesting indeed, and he'd kind of wished he could be in there watching. But, well, someone had to mind the door so people wouldn't find it odd that the bar had no security.
Instead he'd practised seeing things through Ibaraki's eyes. She'd told him it was possible, and apparently it used the same mental link she used to talk to him. He'd given it a go, but all he'd really gotten were flashes – blood spatters, people running in panic, that sort of thing. To be honest, he might have just been imagining all that.
"Need me to unlock the door?" he called.
You do ask stupid questions sometimes, came his Servant's scornful voice. Ryuunosuke stood well back from the door.
After a second, it crumpled under the force of a titanic blow from inside. With a shriek of tortured metal, it bent almost in half, ripping off the hinges, then flew outwards to smash into the wall on the other side of the courtyard. Ibaraki stalked through.
She was soaked in gore, her yellow kimono splashed with dark brown and her mouth and chin coated in sticky, stringy blood. She smiled at Ryuunosuke, and his heart skipped a beat.
"Have fun?" he asked.
"This was never about my having fun, Master. It was a necessity if I was to obtain the prana necessary to fight other Servants… but yes. It was an acceptable night."
"Hey, never let it be said I don't know how to show a girl a good time." He looked up at the building behind them. "So, you got enough juice to clear away all the evidence like we said?"
In answer, Ibaraki held out her left hand, and that giant bone blade appeared there. Hefting it onto her shoulder as though it were made of foam, she turned to face the bar she'd just left. Taking a stance with her sword held low and behind her, she began to gather power.
Ryuunosuke was no wizard, but even he could feel the difference. It started as a heat haze around her hands, then licks of flame around her hair – but before long, the air around Ibaraki was distorted and the girl herself was almost incandescent.
"Oh," she said as an afterthought. "You may wish to stand well back, summoner."
Yeah, he kind of got that from the way that his hair was beginning to singe even standing twenty feet away from his Servant. Ryuunosuke beat a hasty retreat to the other side of the street and settled in to watch.
Ibaraki's right hand came to rest on the pommel of her sword, and gripped it tight. For a moment, she stood there.
Then she swung.
The sword ripped into the wall of the building as though it had been made of paper, but that was the least of it. With Ibaraki's blow, all the power that she'd been holding back blasted out in a devastating wave. Metal melted, brick scorched, wood burned to cinders in an instant. The air blasted forth with such force that Ryuunosuke's ears popped even as far away as he was.
Fire had a way of wrecking the structural integrity of buildings even in the best of cases, as vital supports were warped, softened or eaten away entirely. This was not the best of cases. For one thing, Ibaraki's flame was so hot and appeared so suddenly it acted more like an explosion than a slow-burning blaze. For another, Ibaraki had physically taken out most of an exterior wall with one swing of her sword.
The Copenhagen took a couple of minutes to fall, but fall it did. In the end, all that was left was a flaming wreck, hardly recognisable as a building anymore. All those bodies that Ibaraki left would be charred beyond recognition, and certainly no-one would be able to tell how they'd died.
The authorities would chalk all this up to a terrible accident: such a shame the building wasn't up to code, so tragic. Or maybe they'd look a little deeper, find out the Copenhagen had been a Yakuza bar, and start looking into gang violence. Either way – the last thing anyone would suspect was that a resurrected demon had done it in order to hide the fact that she'd eaten the souls of everyone in the building.
See? It was an awesome plan.
And now that his Servant was all powered up, they could start having some real fun.
---
Three times.
Three times, the sky had rained green annihilation. Three times, the street was ruined by divine forces. Three times, the shell of the Tarrasque had prevented all harm from coming to its target.
Serenity hadn't interfered, this time. If the Matou and Tohsaka wanted to spend all their time and energy locked in their stalemate, she wasn't about to argue.
Not that she could really do much against the forces being unleashed anyway. Either of the Noble Phantasms being pitted against each other used more magical energy than she could spend in a night. The first time had been just after sundown, as soon as the streets were clear of people. The second had been at midnight. And the last time, in the early hours of the morning…
For a bare instant, the green rain had hung in the air, a promise of death shining like the moon. Then it doubled in size. And again. The light grew brighter and brighter, until it looked as if morning had come hours early…
And then that awful green sun fell to Earth, with shocking suddenness.
The arrows had been like lightning before – but now each had carried the power of a fallen star, crashing into the shield with such a deafening roar that every window left intact for a mile around had shattered immediately, and even Serenity was forced to clap her hands over her ears.
It had felt like the end of the world.
A Command Spell, it had to be. An already monstrous Noble Phantasm, empowered by an absolute order capable of overpowering the very logic of Gaia to become an attack capable of grinding mountains to dust. Even the shell of Tarrasque had looked puny and fragile against such a ridiculous attack…
…until that shell had grown to twice the size and three times the thickness, empowered by its own Command Spell. Instants before the first meteor would have hit, it had become an immovable wall that weathered the assault – not without a scratch, not without being pitted and scarred and almost almost broken… but it held.
After that, there were no more salvos from Archer. Matou had realised trying to break through with main force was futile, it seemed.
The sun rose – for real this time, illuminating a wreck of a street. Debris was strewn everywhere, wood and glass and chips of stone. There was barely a square foot of street that hadn't been ruined, and only a miracle had kept all the houses standing. But, for now, the War was over.
In the distance, church bells rang. The sound wormed its way into Serenity's ear, impossible to ignore, building to an angry clamour… before stopping abruptly.
Serenity wasn't any kind of magus, but she knew a magical effect when she heard it. The bells would ring in the ears of anyone with spiritual senses, and used the leyline that ran through Fuyuki to reach anyone in the city, whether they could hear the physical bells or not. It was one of the pre-set signals that all the official Masters knew, and the message was clear.
The moderator had summoned all participants in the War.
And he didn't sound happy about it.
Chapter 6 - Diagnosis
- Location
- Probably at sea
Chapter 6 - Diagnosis
While Christians made up only about 1% of the Japanese population, there was nevertheless a trend towards weddings conducted in the Christian style, even among those not of the faith. It was easy, relatively cheap, and honestly, it wasn't like the minister was going to have a whole lot else to do. This was the explanation for how the Kotomine church managed to maintain its funding, and justify its existence in the first place.
It was all a lie, of course. People did get married in the Kotomine church, and it did even turn a profit out of the venture – but had it not, another excuse would have been found. The Church had no intention whatsoever of letting something like the Holy Grail slip from under its watchful eye. Sure, it wasn't the real one; they knew that from the start. But quite apart from anything else, leaving a wish-granting artefact in the hands of a group as calculating, power-hungry and megalomaniacal as magi was just asking for trouble. The church had installed Kotomine Risei in Fuyuki for the third Holy Grail War, and while they were ongoing they were going nowhere.
Besides, Risei quite liked it here. And if he were to go, who would tend his flock?
He looked out at the morning service, and continued his sermon.
"In the Gospel of Saint Matthew, Jesus implores us all to 'turn the other cheek'. It's an expression that's easy to say, easy to repeat, but hard to put into practice. To respond to aggression not with aggression, but with compassion, is not an easy thing to do. But that is why Christ serves as an example – if it were easy, it wouldn't take the Messiah to teach us how to do it."
He smiled while the low chuckles around the room died down. "There are, of course, alternative ways of reading this passage, that old and dusty men like me argue over, and discuss what exactly Christ meant by this. For me, all that rather goes over my head, and I can only see the obvious meaning – that revenge for revenge's sake is never the right thing to do.
"Now, I can point to many times in scripture and elsewhere where violent ends were used in pursuit of a righteous cause, and I'm sure many of you can as well. I'm not here to tell you that you should never defend yourself, and I'm sure Christ wouldn't tell you that either. If you're in trouble, you are allowed – I'll stress, you are allowed – to do what you need to, to keep yourself or your loved ones safe. But when Christ tells you to turn the other cheek, he's contrasting it with the still older saying which advises 'an eye for an eye'. Don't become consumed with revenge, don't seek to hurt your aggressor just because he hurt you. If you need to defend yourself, do so – but as an impulse to protect, in the finest Christian tradition, entirely apart from the mindset that pushes us to hurt just because we ourselves have been hurt."
He paused for a moment, just long enough to make it clear that the sermon was over.
"Now, I don't just roll a dice to decide these topics – I know there's been a lot of trouble lately, and I'm hearing a lot of you passing a whole lot of blame around. Kids, criminals, terrorists… I'm hearing it all. Folks, I don't know what's going on any more than you do, but I've already mentioned the fact that people are getting worried to the authorities, and they assure me they're on the case. So, I implore you all to stay safe, and I implore you all – rather than going out with fire in your hearts looking to make those responsible pay… turn the other cheek.
"If you'll turn to page 14, we'll sing our closing hymn before the benediction…"
When it was all over, and Risei had blessed and waved off the last of his celebrants, he closed the door behind him. It made a very final boom as it shut, and the atmosphere in the previously warm and comforting church changed to something rather more austere.
Risei turned around, and met the eyes of the two men who had stayed behind, standing on opposite sides of the central passage, pretty much as far away from each other as they could get. The grandfatherly smile had slid off his face, and his priest's robes and stole gave him an air of authority and gravitas.
"Gentlemen," he started, voice just a touch above a growl, striding towards the front of the church. "I do hope you enjoyed today's sermon. Sometimes, when I know that one of my flock is struggling with an issue, I will construct a lecture discussing that issue, as a way of both offering support, reaching out, and bringing the issue to the forefront of the minds of the community as a whole. Sometimes, however, needs must, and I throw all attempts at subtlety out of the fucking window." He turned just before the altar, and regarded his two… wayward sheep. "Well? What do you have to say for yourselves?"
Tohsaka Tokiomi cleared his throat, and glared daggers over at the other side of the room. "Loath as I am to appear any more childish than I already do after you called us all here like errant schoolchildren, I do feel compelled to point out that, in this case, he really did start it."
"Hah." Matou Kariya was almost a perfect contrast to Tohsaka Tokiomi – dressed in a tattered black hoodie and jeans where Tohsaka had his elegant red velvet suit, his hair a filthy matted white mess to Tohsaka's neatly-groomed black hair and goatee. While Tohsaka was clearly making an effort to rein in his emotions and appear civilized, Matou's face was set in a twisted grimace of hatred. His hands would twitch randomly, as though itching to place them round Tohsaka's neck, and while he looked relaxed sprawled backwards in a pew, every so often he would jerk and shudder in place. "Damn right I did. This is a war, isn't it? I don't see where you get off telling us how we can and can't fight it, Father."
"Ordinarily, you would be correct," Risei said. "However, as I am sure I don't need to remind you, it is my responsibility to ensure the War remains secret. When I have no less than five people raise concerns over the fact that their homes and neighbourhoods are breaking for no reason, it becomes my problem."
"I quite agree," said Tohsaka. "By all means, apply your sanctions to the guilty party. I, on the other hand, have done nothing but defend myself."
Matou snorted. "Is that right? Because I'm pretty sure I specifically told Archer to target your ostentatious piece of crap house, and nothing else. Hey Archer, did you miss and not tell me?"
There was a flash of forest green motes, and a Servant appeared next to Matou – clearly his Archer. She looked like a young woman, in a black and cyan short dress, with long dirty-blonde hair and… cat ears? And a cat's tail? Risei didn't stare. He'd seen weirder and worse during the Third War.
"No. I don't miss," she said simply, eyes on Tohsaka.
"Well, there you have it," said Matou. "Can't have been my fault."
Archer didn't have a weapon in hand, but that could change in a moment, Risei knew. From the cold look she was shooting at Tohsaka, that was a very real possibility. How had Matou managed to convince his Servant to carry his grudge?
"Bringing your Servant within the territory of the church violates the spirit of neutrality we are aiming for here, Matou," he said sternly. "I won't forbid it – but you are on thin ice as it is. I'll remind you – both of you – that you are under my personal guarantee of truce for as long as you are here. Any violence, and the War is suspended while all parties deal with the trucebreaker. Is that clear?"
"Crystal," smiled Tohsaka.
"Tch. Whatever."
Risei raised his voice, looking up to the rafters. "And to everyone else, don't think I don't see you. I'll hold you as witnesses to what happens here." There was a quiet rustling. Familiars. They'd received the summons, same as Tohsaka and Matou – except Risei hadn't personally phoned the other Masters to make them promise to show up in person. It was fine – as long as they got the message.
Interesting forms they took, though. There was a bat with what looked like a camera strapped to it – that would be this Magus Killer character who was giving Kirei fits. Speaking of, there was one of Tohsaka's crystal-eyed stone owls there too – the man himself had no need for them tonight, so Risei could only assume Kirei had received one as a gift somewhere along the way while apprenticed to him. One was visible only as a dark cloud, and was immediately recognisable to Risei as a summoned demon. Could have been anyone, but he'd heard the Magus Association was sending one of their experts on spiritual evocation and summoning. The last was a really rather beautiful bird that, despite being obviously artificial, was far more animated than either the controlled bat or the stone owl, fluffing its brass feathers every so often and hopping from foot to foot. Curious.
Four familiars, plus the two Masters here in person, made six. One was missing… as expected.
"Yeah, yeah, you're the boss," sneered Matou. "But don't try to change the subject. I'm not one to hurt innocents, and Archer's not so indiscriminate she can't group her shots to within something the size of a freaking house, even with her Noble Phantasm. You want the one responsible for all the damage? It's that bastard right there," he finished, pointing at Tohsaka.
Tohsaka raised one eyebrow. "I'm supposed to not defend myself? All that force has to go somewhere. If you really care about innocents, stop launching attacks at the defences you already know will redirect them."
"I care just fine, you arrogant prick. But if it's a choice between inconveniencing them and missing out on killing you – well, they'll get over it."
"Spoken like a true magus. I'm sure your grandfather is very proud."
"Why you-"
"Enough!" said Risei. This was getting them nowhere. "If I cannot appeal to your humanity, perhaps I can appeal to reason. This ridiculous feud of yours is clearly getting you nowhere – either of you. Surely wasting so much prana on butting your heads together is simply a waste, and will only make both of you vulnerable to another Servant looking to take advantage."
Matou laughed. "Nice try, but no. From where I'm sitting, I'm in a pretty good spot here. I'm free to harass Tohsaka all I want and wear him down, through exhaustion if nothing else. Keeping him locked in his house, with neither he or his Servant able to make any move… yeah, that suits me just fine. And if anyone else wants to help, fine by me. I'd prefer to be the one to kill him and send his house crashing down around his ears – but all I really want is him dead. And if anyone tries to come after me…" He shrugged. "I have full confidence in Archer. We'll take on all comers."
Archer showed a slight smile, but said nothing.
Risei sighed. He could see where this was going. "And you, Tohsaka? Can I not convince you to let go of your singleminded grudge? As ever, the church would welcome you and grant you sanctuary."
"I am hardly left with a choice. While I and my home remain targeted, I refuse to throw away my shield. It is certainly possible that Rider and I could relocate… but why should I leave my fortified position, with my family's mysteries all available to hand? No. I will endure. You will try and exhaust me, Matou? With your circuits in the condition that they are? I trust I can provide Rider with prana for far longer than you can Archer."
Risei sighed. "And so, both of you will continue to beat your heads together until both your houses are reduced to rubble, and the neighbourhood with them. Truly, the wisdom of magi is unparalleled. If you hate each other so, could you not simply find an open space somewhere and settle this in a fair duel?"
"We could do that," said Matou, "But why would I? Like I said, I vastly prefer it when I'm holed up in my house with Archer fully capable of blasting Tohsaka's with her Noble Phantasm whenever we feel like it, or sniping him with a lucky shot. Giving all that up for a so-called 'fair fight'… not my style. Thoughts, Archer?"
Archer nodded stiffly. "Duels are all very well for a matter of honour. But this is war. We are past all that now. All that remains is to fight until our last breath."
Resigned, Risei turned to Tohsaka. "And you?"
"Not that it matters, as my opponent is unwilling to face me fairly… but in this alone, I can understand his impulse. Archer, please take it as a compliment that I have no intention of facing you without my barriers in between us, when they are doing a fine job of keeping me alive and my house intact. A fair fight… no."
"So, we're just at an impasse, is that it?" Rise asked. "Neither of you will relent for the sake of the innocent caught in your crossfire, neither of you will budge to focus on other threats in the War, and neither of you will agree to give up what you see as your advantages to fight each other fairly."
"Yep."
"That is correct."
Risei put a hand to his head. "Honestly. So what is required is a means to break your deadlock… fortunately, as the Moderator I am well-placed to supply such a thing." He pulled up his left sleeve, revealing a muscular forearm – and a web of red markings covering it like an ornate tattoo. "I propose a contest. One task, performed on behalf of the Moderator of the War. The prize will be one Command Spell. Enough, I think, to tip the balance between you.
"In the hands of the Matou, one extra Command Spell would allow Archer to power through Rider's defensive Phantasm with her own. In the hands of the Tohsaka, it would allow Rider to weather a normal Noble Phantasm with no loss of power, leaving enough for a counterattack while Archer is unable to fire again."
Risei looked up at the rafters.
"I will open the prize up to anyone else who wishes to get involved, but be warned – I will demand a Geas from the winner that it be used only to break the balance between Matou and Tohsaka. How you decide which side you will use it for is up to you."
"And the nature of this task?" asked Matou. He sounded bored and uninterested… but if he really didn't care he wouldn't have asked at all. Got him.
"As it happens, I did not only receive complaints from members of Tohsaka's neighbourhood. You may or may not have noticed, but there was a rather unpleasant incident last night in Shinto. A bar, and everyone inside, collapsed and burned down. There were no survivors."
"So?"
"I have it on good authority that it was Berserker who was responsible." Risei paused. Matou and Tohsaka both looked surprised, and there was a rustle of activity from the familiars up above as well. "I cannot reveal my source, but rest assured – a Servant was responsible. Neither Berserker nor their Master have presented themselves to me, nor was the Master of Berserker among those whose identities were made known to the church beforehand. This act was not done to gain strategic advantage against another Master – it was mere wanton violence for the sake of violence. Perhaps if this Berserker was under command of a more traditional Master, they might have better controlled their Servant. Alas, it was not to be.
"As far as I can see, we have a rogue Master and Servant, clearly uninterested in fighting the War as it should be fought. My task is this: hunt down and kill the culprit, Berserker. If you choose to leave the Master alive, so be it, but make sure Berserker is stopped before they engage in a full-blown rampage. However, I will not suspend the War for this – feel free to engage other Servants if you wish. The offer is merely an… optional extra."
There was another rustle of activity up ahead. Matou looked dubious, and Tohsaka spoke up, looking vaguely disgruntled.
"I cannot help but feel like I am at a disadvantage," he protested. "Forgive me, Archer, but your Noble Phantasm and appearance leave me quite sure as to your identity. In a race to capture a target, how is Rider supposed to compete with the swiftest huntress in all of Greece, who fired the first arrow into the Calydonian boar?"
"Sucks to be you, I guess," spat Matou. "Also, cheers for divulging my Servant's identity to everyone here, dick."
Tohsaka smiled frostily, then turned back to Risei. "Well? What am I to do?"
"Tokiomi, you refused all other alternatives. I apologise if you feel this contest is unfair – however, I will not abide your ridiculous and destructive behaviour any longer. I'm sorry, that's how it is."
While Tohsaka gaped, Matou stood, laughing. "Well, there you have it. Thanks, Moderator, your solution is equitable and fair. Archer, let's go hunt." He limped from the room, clutching his arm to his side, but there was a definite pep in his step nevertheless. Archer shadowed his footsteps, finally dissolving into green motes just as the church doors opened. When they closed behind them, Risei clapped his hands.
"Very well. That concludes the purpose of this meeting. Go with God, and I wish all of you the best of luck in your efforts. Remember, if it means anything to you – Berserker is a threat to the people of this city. Innocent people, who know nothing of us or our wars and conflicts. Spare a thought for them, and remember that with all our knowledge and might comes the responsibility to protect those who do not have it. I will not command you to join the hunt. But I will say: remember how we treat rogues like Berserker. Take care that one day, the hunt does not come after you."
He spread his hands, and the various familiars flew out of the church.
Once they were all gone, he turned to Tokiomi.
"Convincing enough, do you think, my old friend?"
Tohsaka Tokiomi, the man Risei had dandled on his knee as a boy and who had been christened in this very church, smiled. "Quite. I almost thought you really were angry with me."
"Make no mistake, I really am displeased that it has come to this. But I understand. The church still holds that you are the safest candidate to obtain the Grail, and I'll do what I can to make that happen."
"Thank you." Tokiomi inclined his head. "Matou seems to have swallowed the bait quite nicely."
"Yes. With luck, he'll be too busy hunting down Berserker to continue bombarding your house, and we'll have lured Archer out from her defensive position. That was a masterful bit of reverse psychology at the end. I thought he might refuse, and spoil all our setup. You even worked revealing his Servant's True Name into the bargain as well."
"If I say black, Matou Kariya will say white. I truly don't know what I have done to earn his enmity so – he surely cannot still be jealous over Aoi's choice. In any case, I guessed that the best thing I could do to make him accept your task was to oppose it myself."
"Mm." Risei was silent for a moment. "Just so you know, with such a public task, if Archer really is the one to kill Berserker, I will have to award Matou the Command Spell. Are you not worried about that at all?"
Tokiomi chuckled. "Not especially. Anything can happen in the Grail War. Perhaps Berserker will slay Archer for us. Perhaps the Command Spell will go to someone who recognises the wisdom of making common cause with me instead of a shortsighted fool like Matou. And should the worst happen, and Matou receive an extra Command Spell to batter down my and Rider's combined defences… well.
"That is what Lancer is for, is it not?"
The two conspirators chuckled.
Neither noticed the skull mask in the shadows, fading softly away to report back to her Master.
---
A/N: And that's all I've got for now. Next chapter due whenever.
floppy_seal99
D-O-G-A-R-S DOGARS!
- Location
- snooping as usual
Serenity: "ey b0ss looks like the red guy is in cahoots with the frenk priest"
Kiritsugu: "Damn son, where'd ya find this?"
Serenity: "I sneak good and do other stuff good too."
Kiritsugu: "Damn son, where'd ya find this?"
Serenity: "I sneak good and do other stuff good too."
Bad_kobold
Seeker of the Orb of Zot
- Location
- Seattle
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I like this story so far.
ya doin tha lawds work.
ya doin tha lawds work.
- Location
- Probably at sea
That's a good question.
- Location
- Southern California
Liking what I'm reading so far but honestly I have to wonder why they have servants the ability to eat souls if they didn't want them to kill random people.
Also how the actual fuck did Tokiomi summon someone as nice (and badass) as fucking Martha!? Seriously he's a magus their way of life is pretty much directly opposite to a proper human being.
Got to wonder how Kariya didn't have to use a command seal to stop Atalanta trying to nuke Zouken- oh shit the worms are in Sakura's heart aren't they?
So we have:
-Serenity (Assassin)
-Ibaraki (Berserker)
-Atalanta (Archer)
-Martha (Rider)
Just over half the Servants with Lancer (who is working for Kirei- Li Shuwen?), Saber and Caster.
So Waver and Kayneth either have Saber or Caster. Pretty bad odds since the Saber class does have magic resistance.
It'd be a shock to not see Artoria but hey she doesn't have to be in literally everything. Honestly I can see Kayneth summoning a Saber because while the guy is a complete dick- he is a magus And Old money, the guy actually has human decency. The fact that he's willing to throw everything away for his piece of shit wife says enough.
Also how the actual fuck did Tokiomi summon someone as nice (and badass) as fucking Martha!? Seriously he's a magus their way of life is pretty much directly opposite to a proper human being.
Got to wonder how Kariya didn't have to use a command seal to stop Atalanta trying to nuke Zouken- oh shit the worms are in Sakura's heart aren't they?
So we have:
-Serenity (Assassin)
-Ibaraki (Berserker)
-Atalanta (Archer)
-Martha (Rider)
Just over half the Servants with Lancer (who is working for Kirei- Li Shuwen?), Saber and Caster.
So Waver and Kayneth either have Saber or Caster. Pretty bad odds since the Saber class does have magic resistance.
It'd be a shock to not see Artoria but hey she doesn't have to be in literally everything. Honestly I can see Kayneth summoning a Saber because while the guy is a complete dick- he is a magus And Old money, the guy actually has human decency. The fact that he's willing to throw everything away for his piece of shit wife says enough.
- Location
- Probably at sea
Personally, I've never understood why people feel the need to keep her around when writing AU fics. Like, we can do anything we want, and we're still just running with the same characters we already see way too much of anyway? The Masters are mostly a given, but if I'm going so far as to change the Servants around, I'm going to go all the way with it. (And while this may be heresy, I've never found Artoria desperately interesting anyway.)
It's the same reason I've switched around the classes rather than (as I've seen in fic after fic) having Kiritsugu summon a Saber, Tokiomi summon an Archer, and so on ad nauseam. If the Servants are different, there's no reason the classes should stay the same either.
As to who was matched with who - I can't promise every Servant will be a perfect fit, but there's always at least some rationale behind why I picked them and I hope to spell it out at some point in the story for each of them. Hopefully people can see my point.
NitroFumetsu
Blaze of Glory
Kotomine Kirei summoned Elisabeth Bathory, didn't he?
That would indeed leave Waver and Kayneth the Caster and Saber classes.
The punchline would be to give Kayneth Jason as a Saber, and give Waver Medea as a Caster, but...maybe you see something I don't?
That would indeed leave Waver and Kayneth the Caster and Saber classes.
The punchline would be to give Kayneth Jason as a Saber, and give Waver Medea as a Caster, but...maybe you see something I don't?
- Location
- Texas
Keep in mind that Waver only joined the Grail War because he had an opportunity to steal Kayneth's catalyst. With such a thing no longer existing, Waver has no reason to be in the war, and another Magus might take his place.
Chapter 7 - Lilium Candidum
- Location
- Probably at sea
Chapter 7 - Lilium Candidum
It was an unspoken rule that no activity concerning the War was to happen during the day. There were far too many people around, and the fact that everything was illuminated made it basically impossible to hide something as flashy and destructive as a Servant battle. The general wisdom was that the War started at sundown, and if you hadn't managed to achieve anything by the time the sun rose, well, that was you done for the night. The Master would retire to their base to wait out the day, catch up on some well-needed sleep, and prepare for the next night.
But… it still wasn't an actual rule.
The rule – and it was really more of a guideline anyway – was that you weren't allowed to reveal the existence of magic. That was it. And in that regard, an Assassin could get away with a lot that another Servant couldn't, even in the middle of the day.
As a spirit, she was invisible to all without some kind of magical senses, and it wasn't like the Presence Concealment skill checked whether or not the sun was shining, so Servants wouldn't notice her either. Like all the other Servants, if she got in a fight it'd be immediately noticeable… but, then, why on Earth would she choose to do such a thing?
So. It was early afternoon, and Serenity had just finished shadowing Tohsaka back to his house. As before, she stopped short of actually crossing into his property – she was almost certain her Presence Concealment was proof against anything he had set up, but… you never knew. Why risk it?
Master? she asked.
Yes?
Are we planning on supporting either side during this hunt for Berserker? Kiritsugu hadn't said anything on the matter. There was nothing wrong with that, of course… but Serenity had gotten used to immediate and clear direction from her Master. To not have that on such an important issue was… unusual. She decided to prompt him. Her expertise was considerable, and her Master had made sure she knew he valued it. Enabling Archer to kill Rider with a Command Spell seems like something we should support, but…
The last conversation between the moderator and Tohsaka suggests there is more to it. I agree. Her Master's voice was cold as ever, but over the telepathic connection, he couldn't quite hide his nervousness. I assume Lancer is Kotomine Kirei's Servant. No, he must be. To have formed an alliance already, Tohsaka has not had a chance to contact anyone else. And Tohsaka believes this Lancer capable of standing up to Archer's Noble Phantasm, even boosted by Command Spell… Assassin, we must find Kirei. No other Master is so dangerous.
Serenity wasn't sure, even now, what had Kiristugu so worried about this Kotomine, but her place was not to argue. Yes, Master. And… the other Servants?
There was a pause while Kiritsugu thought. …yes. Tohsaka has made them relevant, by bringing them into his game against Matou. Lancer… This time, her Master's thoughts were flavoured with frustration. …will wait. Clearly Tohsaka intends to keep him in reserve. Very well. Assassin, monitor the other Servants. Discover their identities if you can. If you can locate Berserker, do so. I will… make a decision on what to do.
Very well, Master. Serenity set off. Her Master hadn't told her where to start, but, of course, Serenity was fully informed as to the current disposition of all known Masters and Servants. There was no point in keeping her in the dark, so Kiritsugu shared all information with her, allowing her to make informed decisions on the ground.
Like now. Invisible, silent, Serenity hopped from rooftop to rooftop to sprint down a deserted street, to leap and swing and land back on the rooftops again. She had never been to her destination in person – but she'd seen photographs, and she'd looked through a map of Fuyuki, and that was enough.
The city was… different, during the day. So many people – they thronged in the streets, and the next street over would have more, and the next street as well, on and on as far as the eye could see. Fuyuki was, the Grail informed her, a small-ish but growing city. In her day, it would have been, by far, the largest city in the world.
People out shopping, or relaxing with friends in the sunshine, or just walking as far as Serenity could see. You'd never know that each and every one of them was under threat from spirits that should never have existed in their peaceful time. It was relaxing and humbling to behold… but melancholy at the same time. Even had Serenity's body not been cursed so, she could never be part of this sunlit world where everyone was smiling.
No. She was here to kill for her Master, to make sure this world endured.
Up ahead, the Hyatt came into view.
It wasn't actually all that hard, to find out who was selected as a Master. At least, not the ones selected from the Association. The Grail assigned Command Spells however it wanted, but there were certain trends, and the sheer number of magi who made up the Association meant that more often than not, the leadership could be said to have a 'candidate' to present. They weren't guaranteed a spot in the same way that the Founding Families were, but it was a pretty safe bet.
And, well, magi being magi, if one of the traditionalists was selected for an honour that set him above his peers, you'd damn well hear about it. Kiritsugu didn't even have to do anything – the Einzberns had long established the infrastructure for this sort of thing. In this case, they had plenty of contacts within the Association that had let them know the moment Kayneth Archibald El-Melloi started bragging.
From there, it was a matter of monitoring his movements. El-Melloi was reportedly an expert in spiritual evocation and summoning, and just generally a talented magus all-round, so he was very likely to notice any magical tracking attempts. No doubt he dealt with that kind of thing all the time – the Clock Tower was notorious for underhanded dealings, and someone as important as the lord of the Minerology Department must have people trying to steal his research as a daily annoyance. He would spot any familiars or sympathetic connections from a mile off.
He would probably not, however, do the same with the local private detective hired to note his arrival in the country and discreetly follow him to where he would be staying. Magi tended to lose all sense for mundane matters, and forgot that the vast majority of the population got along just fine with no magic at all. El-Melloi had proceeded blithely to his hotel, and the slightly confused P.I. had reported in on this – and a couple of other matters – been paid for his time, and sent on his way.
He hadn't managed to actually get in to the room itself, of course. Dismissal of mundane methods or not, El-Melloi wasn't that stupid, as Serenity discovered when she attempted to access the room normally. (You never knew.) He'd locked out the entire floor, in fact, involving some really complex space-warping that allowed the stairwells and elevators to bypass the whole thing unless it detected the correct magical signature.
The floor itself had been transformed into a labyrinth, with more space warping messing with the dimensions to the point that some of the doors led into alternate dimensions altogether. There were traps and tripwires and effects laid over what looked like every inch of the place. More, there were what felt like at least a dozen ghosts, spirits or demons wandering around looking for intruders, with various sensory abilities and various hunting patterns. The place was impossibly secure.
So much so, that it wasn't even security any more – to Serenity's eyes, it was just showing off. Almost childlike, in fact, in the caster's clear excitement and anticipation of someone trying to get past all his clever preparations. No-one did all this just because they wanted to feel safe, War or no War. No, it looked like El-Melloi was here for… a good time? He wanted to match wits against other magi, each of them using everything they had, and prove he was superior.
Well, blow that for a game of soldiers.
Serenity might well have been able to work her way through the maze of traps. The combination of dematerialisation and Presence Concealment at A+ rank did a lot to deal with pretty much any combination of sensors. El-Melloi would have been expecting that, of course, and set countermeasures specifically for Servants, but Serenity was one of the best in history at what she did and she was reasonably certain she could cope.
But, really, that sounded like a lot of work, and why bother? There were easier ways of doing this.
Serenity stood on the very edge of the roof, enjoying the afternoon breeze through her hair. Crouching, she drove two knives up to the hilt straight into the concrete – on the vertical side of the building, over the edge. Keeping hold of each knife, she leaned even further over, then picked her feet up and straightened out into a handstand, holding herself over empty air.
Then she pulled one knife out and lowered herself on one hand. In went the free knife, a little lower.
Step by step, she lowered herself down the side of the Hyatt.
See? Much easier.
Even like this, she kept her mental map of the internal layout of the Hyatt. When she judged that she was above the right window, she bent her arms and lowered her invisible head so she could just peek through the top.
The Hyatt was grand and luxuriant – well, most modern living spaces seemed that way to Serenity, although she was aware she'd so far lived in two castles and spent her time observing a mansion, so she might not have had the best sample size to work with. But the Hyatt was luxuriant and modern, rather than old-fashioned – all wide and open-plan, curving walls, lots of glass. Interesting.
But she wasn't here to examine the architecture. Serenity held still as two people came into view – one a blond man in flowing blue clothes, the other a redheaded woman in a white blouse with a ribbon. They seemed to be in the middle of an argument, or at least a one-sided rant on the man's part.
Serenity recognised El-Melloi, but wasn't familiar with the woman. She didn't set off Serenity's sense for Servants, although something in the apartment sure was – though whether they were dematerialised or simply out of sight Serenity didn't know.
Master, she sent, knowing that Kiritsugu would focus on seeing through her senses. Any idea on who this woman is? She could be an aide or confidante, but she doesn't act like either. If anything, she seems to be an equal to El-Melloi.
Do you have a clear shot at him? came the reply at once. There's no point in collecting information if we can just kill him and get him out of the way immediately.
No clear shot, Serenity said. Not without knowing the whereabouts and capabilities of his Servant.
Keep listening, then, said her Master. I'll see if our files on El-Melloi have anything.
Serenity did so.
"… that little upstart thinks he is," El-Melloi was snarling. "Bad enough he defies me, but that the Grail should grant him Command Spells also? As though we were equals? And to add insult to injury, the Grail decides to grant the Servant of the Spell to such an insolent fool. Tell me, Sola-Ui, if the Servants summoned are a reflection of their Masters, what does that say, that the brat's ego called to such a master magus?"
"It tells me you are being ridiculous, Kayneth," snapped the woman – now identified as Sola-Ui. "If we had swapped Servants you would instead be complaining that this Waver Velvet drew the most outstanding class. Has Saber given you any cause for dissatisfaction?"
"No… Saber has been exemplary, I admit. But it irks me, Sola-Ui, it irks me that Velvet's Servant refuses to come out and fight. Sending automatons against me… surely they cannot think to defeat me with toys? But if not, what is his design…"
Sola-Ui rolled her eyes. "You're getting obsessed. Velvet and Caster are a non-issue, surely? No Caster can stand up to Saber, and were you to take the field against Velvet… well. Enough said on the matter. Focus on something else. Such as this situation with Berserker."
"Hm." El-Melloi sat down on the couch, and reached for a bucket of wine and a glass. "I'm torn on that. Part of me wants to let Matou and Tohsaka destroy each other and take out Berserker into the bargain, but… having the extra Command Spell would be useful."
"Would you use it to support Tohsaka or Matou?"
"I haven't decided yet." El-Melloi smiled. "I suppose it would depend on who can give me a better offer."
"Or on whose Servant would otherwise give you more trouble."
"… yes, there is that." El-Melloi swirled his wine. "In any case, even just having the option would be helpful… and it has been dreary, cooped up in here. This is hardly what I was expecting from the War."
Sola-Ui frowned. "Think how it's been for me, will you? At least you have full access to your magic, and can go out and fight alongside Saber… not that you have," she sneered. "I, on the other hand, will stay here for the rest of the War. Honestly, the things I put up with."
El-Melloi smiled, and to Serenity's eyes there was genuine affection there. "Yes. Thank you once again, Sola-Ui. You know I wouldn't be able to do this without you, do you not?"
The woman rolled her eyes and turned away. "Yes, yes. I'm not objecting, really. But it's frustrating, to be dragged into your scheme and then for you not to even take advantage of it."
"Well, just because you're providing all the power to keep Saber active doesn't mean I have to waste mine. There's no point in setting up this grand atelier and then not making use of it. I'll engage, carefully and in a time and place of my own choosing. If I'm fighting, I can at least fight as a magus does."
"Seems to me that a magus fights very similar to a coward," Sola-Ui spat. El-Melloi blinked, clearly taken aback.
"What would you have me do, Sola-Ui?" said El-Melloi, his tone slightly mocking. "Pick up a sword and charge in alongside Saber? I'm no good at that, and it's not my place. Now who's being ridiculous?"
"How dare-"
The door into the apartment flew open, and in swept a knight in pale blue and white, proudly bearing what looked like a broken clockwork bird.
"I have finished!" declared the knight, brandishing the bird like a hunter with a pheasant. "It gave me trouble, oh yes, but once again the Knight of White Lilies is victorious over Caster's silly dolls!" Then, appearing to notice the atmosphere in the room for the first time, continued, "…am I perhaps interrupting something?"
El-Melloi was the first to break the silence. "No, Saber, not at all. Sola-Ui and I were merely having a disagreement."
"Ah, the usual issue?" The knight – Saber – smiled, apparently familiar. "My Master, I well know how troublesome women can be. But I urge you to see my lady's side as well. You are talented, likely the most talented Master in the War. With such talent should come gallantry, or what is it for? Let us sally forth, the most magnificent and amazing Master and Servant, and dazzle all with a display of our skill!"
Sola-Ui gave El-Melloi a hard look. "You see? Saber thinks you're a coward as well."
"Not at all!" cried Saber, seemingly distraught by the prospect. "Master, I am your knight, to use as you see fit. As I served the Royal Family of France, and as you serve your Association, I now serve you, and to do as you command my only desire. I only mean… do you not want to fight alongside me? Were you not dissatisfied with not engaging the foe in the cut and thrust of battle?"
El-Melloi started to say something, but paused, closed his eyes and sighed. "The two of you are impossible. Saber, Sola-Ui, I'm only trying to conduct myself as a magus should. Of course I want to stride onto the battlefield and use every code, spell and trick I have to emerge victorious. But, Saber, though we fight with honour, others will not." He gestured at the broken automaton, still held in Saber's gloved hand. "Our foes would not hesitate to strike me down should I show myself on the battlefield. Through treachery, through trickery, through some means I can only guess at, I would die – not in battle, but through my own foolishness. And our chance for a wish upon the Grail will be lost. Is that what you want?"
Sola-Ui looked away in disgust, but said nothing. Saber's head shook emphatically.
"But…" El-Melloi continued. "Perhaps it is time I took a more active role in the War. Come, Saber. I have made my decision. We go to hunt Berserker! With my spells to track them down, and your sword arm, we cannot lose. Make your preparations. We leave at nightfall."
The look on Saber's face was radiant. "Yes, Master! For France, for the Association, we shall not fail! En garde!"
El-Melloi and Sola-Ui disappeared into the apartment, while Saber remained.
Your assessment, Assassin? said Kiritsugu.
Very straightforward, replied Serenity. And El-Melloi's focus on Waver Velvet and his Servant Caster may be a distraction we can exploit. However, you should not face El-Melloi in direct combat, Master…
Agreed. I never intended to. And Saber?
The Knight of White Lilies… Chevalier D'Eon, Serenity recited the information fed to her by the Grail. Not the most powerful… but skilled. Of the Servant encountered so far, likely the most talented in combat, just as El-Melloi is the most accomplished magus. However, Master, El-Melloi is not a threat. He will not be difficult to kill.
Explain.
Serenity focused on the coffee table, where the bottle of wine still sat in its bucket of ice. No matter how great your fortifications, or how secure your quarters, you still need to eat and drink. It would not be the first time, or the second, or the fiftieth, that I poisoned the food sent to a target.
I see. And if all else fails, there is still the fallback plan we discussed.
Yes. Serenity wasn't a fan. For one thing, blowing up a whole building to get to one man was… well, it just seemed a bit flashy. To be sure, it would probably be effective. There weren't a lot of spells one could cast immediately that would protect you from a fifteen-story drop unless you were expecting that kind of thing – and you had to be a special kind of person to anticipate someone taking out the floor from out underneath you.
But there was a bigger reason Serenity wasn't sold on this plan. As her Master laid it out, he took great pains to explain how he would keep the people of the hotel safe. He would set fires on the lower floors, he would ring the alarm bell, he would wait until El-Melloi was the last name to be called and impersonate him. It would allow the building to be brought down with only the magus inside.
When Serenity had asked, matter-of-factly, why he did not simply detonate the charges with no warning, to reduce the risk of El-Melloi having, by chance, prepared some defence, he'd chuckled to himself and said he must be going soft. Serenity didn't believe him.
Of all the times to begin considering collateral damage, it was during this, the most important fight in – potentially – the history of mankind? With the wish for eternal peace at stake, why take the risk? Why refuse the sacrifice?
No. To Serenity, this only confirmed what she'd thought. Silently, she fell forward and off the side of the building, fading into shadow and descending as a ghost.
Her Master was cracking under the strain brought on by the conflict between his ideals and what he had to do to reach them. With his hands covered in blood, with his goal so near, he was finally beginning to balk at what must be done.
Serenity could not allow that to happen. She had to support him with all he had, stop him from having to make the hardest decisions by making them irrelevant.
Or Kiritsugu would break, and the chance for a better world would be lost forever.
- Location
- Southern California
Hmmm hmmm hmmmm~
So because two people we're involved in summoning a servant the literal gender fluid servant was summoned. Should have seen that coming but hindsight is 20/20.
Now we know that Waver did in fact summon a Caster servant- specifically one who is an actual caster. So no Artist, Author, inventor or religious figure.
If I trust my gut I'd say that its Helena
So because two people we're involved in summoning a servant the literal gender fluid servant was summoned. Should have seen that coming but hindsight is 20/20.
Now we know that Waver did in fact summon a Caster servant- specifically one who is an actual caster. So no Artist, Author, inventor or religious figure.
If I trust my gut I'd say that its Helena
- Location
- Lost in Hell
Helena isn't liable to make "Dolls" though - or at least so I believe. That description makes it sound more like Aviceberon is struggling to make Golems or like Nitocris is making Medjeds or something. Though I suppose there's a lot of Minion-making Casters.
I kind of vaguely hope Waver summoned Zhuge Liang, still using his future self as a vessel. That seems a bit too cracky though.
floppy_seal99
D-O-G-A-R-S DOGARS!
- Location
- snooping as usual
I would legitimately shit my pants in laughter if Daddy!Waver got summoned...
- Location
- Southern California
I don't think that would happen because if that happened then Kiritsugu would summon Assassin EMIYA
SilverShadows
Under autumn skies
- Location
- US
Based on the bronze automaton birds that keep getting mentioned, I'd place my guess on Waver summoning Da Vinci actually. That sounds like a very good description of the bird she always carries on her shoulder.
And Waver is a new exceptional talent, which is what Da Vinci was in life.
And Waver is a new exceptional talent, which is what Da Vinci was in life.
NitroFumetsu
Blaze of Glory
...Da Vinci, huh? The one who has a magic attack Noble Phantasm explicitly designed to bypass every defense ever, including Magic Resistance and Eye of the Mind?
That is itself Da Vinci adapting what remains of a much stronger and resource intensive 'Noble Phantasm Reflector' version which itself was put towards administering Chaldea in FGO, which isn't happening here?
Wielder of Pioneer of the Stars?
Jesus Christ, D'Eon doesn't stand a chance, and neither does anyone else unless Lancer turns out to be someone super broken like Enkidu, or something...
EDIT: Sonovabitch, I just remembered Enkidu has an anti-Presence Concealment Skill. That would be the ultimate challenge.
That is itself Da Vinci adapting what remains of a much stronger and resource intensive 'Noble Phantasm Reflector' version which itself was put towards administering Chaldea in FGO, which isn't happening here?
Wielder of Pioneer of the Stars?
Jesus Christ, D'Eon doesn't stand a chance, and neither does anyone else unless Lancer turns out to be someone super broken like Enkidu, or something...
EDIT: Sonovabitch, I just remembered Enkidu has an anti-Presence Concealment Skill. That would be the ultimate challenge.
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I mean, considering Enkidu is on par with Gilgamesh minus his arrogance, if Kirei's lancer WAS Enkidu the war would basically already be decided, especially seeing as none of the other servants seen so far strike me as quite reaching the heights of those present in the canon 4th grail war.
SilverShadows
Under autumn skies
- Location
- US
So just checked Chapter 1. Two Genius Newcomers and Two Aimless Weapons do seem to imply Waver pulled Da Vinci and Kirei pulled Enkidu.
Also just a thought but the lack of a relic system means drawing Angry Mango last war has a very solid chance of not having happened. Though, unless the region lock and anti-hero barrier also got butterflied away, Ibaraki shouldn't have been summonable without the grail being corrupted...
It's not unreasonable that the no Eastern/Japanese servants never happened since you can't directly try to summon any particular servant anymore. And the Anti-Hero restriction might've been left out for the same reason, though I don't know why that rule was originally in place to begin with.
Also just a thought but the lack of a relic system means drawing Angry Mango last war has a very solid chance of not having happened. Though, unless the region lock and anti-hero barrier also got butterflied away, Ibaraki shouldn't have been summonable without the grail being corrupted...
It's not unreasonable that the no Eastern/Japanese servants never happened since you can't directly try to summon any particular servant anymore. And the Anti-Hero restriction might've been left out for the same reason, though I don't know why that rule was originally in place to begin with.