Hereafter [Worm x Fate/Grand Order]

Chapter CL: Beneath the Surface
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Chapter CL: Beneath the Surface

The fog made it hard to tell the time of day with any reliability, but the setting of the sun was still an obvious thing just by the waning of what light managed to pierce through the gloom. By the time we made it back to the apartment, that light was almost entirely gone, and the gas lamps that lined the streets were the only beacons we had in the dense mist.

Mordred, at least, didn't seem to need them to find her way back. I had to wonder if her Instinct skill really was just that infallible.

When we walked in through the front door, Flamel greeted us with a smile. "You're just in time," he said. "Renée finished supper mere minutes ago. Mister Tohsaka and Alice have already retired to the dining room, as has Doctor Jekyll."

A sour look crossed Emiya's face. "I want to complain, but the terms of our deal never covered what to do if one of us was unavailable, so I have no one but myself to blame."

"There's always tomorrow!" Rika said brightly. He snorted.

True to Flamel's word, Tohsaka, Alice, and Jekyll were all waiting in the dining room, plates set out and waiting with half of a dinner spread already sitting in front of them. As our group stepped into the dining room, Renée chose that moment to appear from the kitchen, carrying a silvery platter with yet more food.

She showed no surprise to see us. She just looked up, eyes roving over each of us in turn, and blinked.

"You've returned," she said as though she had known the exact second of our arrival well in advance. "I see. My apologies, Mister Emiya, but as I could not be sure when to expect you, I had no other choice than to prepare supper without you."

Emiya sighed and waved it off. "It's fine. I would have done the same if our situations were reversed, so it would be hypocritical of me to blame you for it."

I might have been imagining it, but I thought I saw Renée's lips twitch and threaten to smile, there and gone so quickly that I wasn't sure it had happened at all. She gave a short incline of her head and set the platter she was holding down on the table. To us, she said, "I hope you enjoy your meal all the same."

"I'm sure we will," Ritsuka said politely.

"Yes," Mash agreed brightly. "You're an excellent cook, after all, Miss Renée!"

"You flatter me," Renée demurred in her characteristic monotone.

"If you're all done fluffing her ego," said Tohsaka, "can we actually get around to eating now?"

"Yes, of course," Renée said immediately. "I shall go and bring the rest of the food presently."

"I'll go help," Emiya added. Renée froze for a second, but said nothing against it and made no comment as he followed her into the kitchen.

As for the rest of us, we each found our usual seats, with Jackie next to me on one side, Arash on the other, and the twins sandwiched between Mash and Fran. Once Emiya and Renée returned with the rest of the food, we all started dishing ourselves up and picking out whatever we thought was good.

There wasn't as much meat as there had been the last few days. I wasn't sure anyone else really noticed, because Renée had done as good a job as she had always done, but I figured immediately that Jekyll's stores of perishables must have been starting to run low. With no idea how long it would take us to finish this Singularity and take out the last mastermind, M, and no idea that we had dealt with Babbage already, she must have been rationing what was left.

How many people in the city were even that fortunate? Not enough that we could afford to waste any time, I thought.

I did my best not to think about it too hard and enjoyed dinner for what it was worth. No one else, at least, had any complaints, and certainly not Jackie. I had the thought that we were spoiling her, and then immediately squashed it with the reminder that this was the richest food she'd ever eaten and probably the most stable source of food she'd ever had. She could do with some spoiling.

After dinner had been eaten, we sat around for a few minutes and savored dessert, and once everything had a chance to settle, it was time to get down to business.

"Now," said Flamel, "if you would, perhaps you might explain what it is you managed to discover during your investigation this afternoon?"

The twins shared a look, then looked at me, and I just looked back. "Ritsuka?"

Taking the hint, he sighed and gathered himself, then launched into the story of what had happened, "Well, we managed to find several groups of Helter Skelter, and it turned out that Fran could use them to find the source…"

He explained our trek across London and our eventual destination in Westminster, then the fight with the high spec Helter Skelter, the break we took afterwards in the House of Parliament, and finally, Charles Babbage. Naturally, of course, he had to talk about what we had learned about Angrboða and the mysterious M, including how he had first brainwashed Babbage, and then when that started to fray around the edges, how he had resorted to using Command Spells, one to force Babbage to fight us and a second to make him self-destruct.

Jekyll, Flamel, and Tohsaka all looked disturbed by the information.

"Two Command Spells, you say," Flamel murmured, stroking his beard. "And Professor Babbage, of course, being neither an accomplished mage nor possessing the Magic Resistance necessary, could not fight either one. Worrying, that our final mastermind is so secure in his position that he would use two such rare resources in such quick succession."

"Being as I am no accomplished mage myself, I cannot much say aught of substance regarding such things," Jekyll began, "but if it is as rare and valuable a resource as you indicate, then it would seem to me that M's willingness to spend them in such a frivolous manner would speak either to desperation or plenty."

"Maybe both," I said. "I think it's a safe assumption that M, whoever he is, is currently in the same place as Angrboða." It wasn't a guarantee, but I was willing to stake my guess on it. "Even if he had other Servants at his disposal, there's no way he'd be eager to risk a confrontation with all of us at the same time."

Especially not if he was outnumbered. Right now, buying time was more to his advantage than ours, and the more time he had to prepare, the harder it would be for us to take the fight to him.

"Do we still not know who this M even is?" asked Tohsaka.

"Unfortunately, no," said Arash. "Babbage told us as much as he could, but he also said that one of the things M did was erase his true name from Babbage's mind. That first initial is still all we have."

At this point, given what we knew? My suspicion was that M was the famous villain, James Moriarty, if only because we'd had enough supposedly fictional characters show up that I had to acknowledge the possibility that he would be very real. There were only two things that gave me any reason to think otherwise, one being that we'd seen neither hide nor hair of Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, or any other opponent that would almost certainly be summoned to fight against him. The other was that Moriarty, who I was fairly sure would be a Caster of some kind, wouldn't be the kind of Caster capable of casting spells "beyond human wisdom," at least not the traditional kind expected of a magus.

There were too many holes in it for me to be confident enough to share that theory, so I kept it to myself.

"Then, I assume that our original plans remain largely unchanged?" Flamel asked. "That is, it is still your intent that we should investigate the ley lines for signs of the enemy tomorrow?"

"Yes," I answered. "We just happen to have a better idea of where we should be looking along those ley lines than we did earlier today."

Rika's brow furrowed. "We do?"

"Oh," her brother said. "What Babbage said about Angrboða being 'under…' You think he meant under the ley lines, Senpai?"

"Not just underneath them," I told them both, "but in the Underground."

Flamel sucked in a breath.

"What?" said Jeanne Alter. "What the f-fudge are you talking about?"

"Oh my," said Flamel. "That…would certainly explain why it is we have yet to detect their presence. It's ingenious, really, especially as the first and most obvious place would be the Clock Tower."

"Yes," Jekyll agreed, "yes, it most certainly would be. Although our foe is a dastardly villain worthy of the greatest scorn and condemnation, I must admit that he is also a clever fellow. Even I would not have thought to look there."

"If it's not too much trouble," Tohsaka began, "maybe someone would like to explain it to the rest of us? Just to make sure we're all on the same page."

"The London Underground is a subterranean railway system," Mash explained. "Although it would later be expanded upon to reach more areas of the city, the original structures were first built in the nineteenth…u-um, this era, I mean, and should be accessible…in several places, actually, including one nearby."

"It's a subway," Rika said, sounding impressed. "Wow. Didn't know they built those this far back."

Jekyll gave her a strange look. "A…subway?"

"Eat fresh," Rika replied immediately. Her brother gave her a sharp poke in the side. "Ow!"

"A more modern word for what Mash just described," I explained shortly. "Does that answer your question, Tohsaka?"

Tohsaka grimaced, but after a moment, reluctantly said, "Well enough, I suppose."

He looked like he wanted to ask what a railway was. Since he was from the 1790s, at a guess, he'd probably never even seen a train before, probably never even heard of one — if they'd even been invented yet — and since I didn't really want to try and explain it, I let it slide.

I turned back to Flamel. "Do you still plan on coming with us?"

He hummed. "Yes. Not merely because — as a Caster and a magus — I am the best suited to the task, but also… Well, quite frankly, I find that I, too, would like to see the face of the man behind this catastrophe. I would like to know his name and his reasoning for this madness, and to see him brought to justice for it."

Tohsaka clicked his tongue. "Does that mean I'll be staying behind again?"

Someone obviously needed to, just in case it turned out we couldn't find M and Angrboða before we had to stop and come back, but if it turned out that we were headed out to the final battle tomorrow morning, then I wanted a Servant like Nursery Rhyme there to help. Especially if we really did have to face another Demon God at the end of it all.

The question that had to follow that, of course, was who would be staying behind if not Tohsaka and Nursery Rhyme. A quick glance across our gathered group didn't give me a great answer, but…if I thought about it from the perspective of who could deal the most damage to another of those Demon Gods, there was one Servant who would obviously have trouble, just because he couldn't safely use his Noble Phantasm.

He could double as a secure line back to the apartment, too.

I turned to Arash. "If Tohsaka and Alice are coming along, then we'll need you to stay behind and protect Doctor Jekyll, Fran, Renée, Andersen, and the apartment."

"Sure," he said, "I can do that."

"Uhn!" Fran protested. "Ah, uhn, uhn!"

I had sort of implied that, hadn't I? I hadn't made any promises outright, of course, but I could see how the way I'd worded things earlier would give her that impression.

"You don't have a good way to defend yourself," I told her. She grimaced, but didn't have an argument to prove me wrong.

"If that's all you're worried about, I can protect her again," Mordred offered. "It's no skin off my nose."

"Look at you, the loyal guard dog," Jeanne Alter jeered. Mordred flipped her the bird in response.

"I…think we're probably going to need you at your best," Ritsuka hedged. "Fran…"

"I can protect her," Mash interjected. Ritsuka blinked.

"You can?"

Mash nodded firmly. "Yes. It's true, I…still don't know the true name of the Noble Phantasm belonging to the Heroic Spirit inside of me, even though this is our fifth Singularity. I-I understand that…as long as that's the case, I'm not performing at my best. But…" She set her mouth and squared her shoulders. "Senpai. If it's too much for me to protect even one extra person, then there wouldn't be any reason for me to be here. If a single extra burden is too much, then I wouldn't even deserve to be your Servant in the first place!"

"Look at you!" Mordred grinned. "Now you're starting to act like a proper Servant, Shieldy! Man, even that shield bastard has to be looking on with envy right now!"

Twin spots of pink bloomed on Mash's cheeks. "You really think so, Sir Mordred?"

"I'm sure of it!"

I wasn't quite sure how much to trust Mordred's judgment of Galahad, but I could at least admit that she definitely knew him better than we did, so there wasn't much choice.

"If you're sure, Mash…" Ritsuka said.

Mash nodded again. "I am! Master, I will protect Fran, along with everyone else!"

"Go, Cinnabon!" Rika cheered.

"Fou-fou!" the little gremlin cried. It had been quiet the last while, but I guess it was too much to hope that it had gotten lost out in the fog.

"Then Fran, Tohsaka, Alice, and Flamel will join us in our investigation tomorrow morning," I allowed. "We'll begin with the nearest station and work our way west. I'm sure Da Vinci will have a map we can use to navigate it."

"Oh, goodie!" said Nursery Rhyme. "Do I finally get to play?"

"It certainly looks that way, doesn't it?" said Tohsaka. "Of course, if the investigation runs too long, then we're going to have to return to the apartment before the fog rolls in, won't we?"

"Unless Da Vinci has another gas mask you can use, yes."

His lips drew tight. We both knew that she wouldn't. It wasn't that she couldn't, but that our supplies were stretched thin enough that she would need to jump through a lot of hoops to find the resources needed to make a spare. I could see Marie approving of it as a matter of pride, but that was why Da Vinci probably wouldn't even have brought up the possibility.

Tohsaka sighed. "Fine. If that's the way it has to be, then I guess I have no right to complain."

Jackie tugged on my sleeve. "Are we coming along, too, Mommy?"

"Of course," was my immediate answer. Jackie smiled.

"Yay!" she said. "Alice, we're all going together!"

"It's going to be oh so much fun!" Nursery Rhyme agreed.

What a strange definition of fun she had. If you just looked at her, she didn't look all that strange, but she had a tendency to speak softly and infrequently, and when she did speak, it was often something that only seemed unusual because of the context in which it was said.

In that sense, she kind of reminded me of Glaistig Uaine.

With the responsibilities divvied up, we spent the rest of the night preparing so that we could once more maximize the time we had in the morning before the fog came back. Part of that, of course, was reaching out to Da Vinci, who was only too happy to provide us with the map we needed of the Underground, with helpfully labeled markers that showed the entrances across the city.

"I know you only asked for the data from that era," was what she said, "but I included the lines that would be added over the course of the next hundred years as well, just in case. They're outlined in yellow so that you know which ones are which. Hopefully, you won't need them."

It was good that she'd thought ahead and given us that, too, but I could only hope that we wouldn't need them. This was going to be a big enough pain in the ass to investigate as it was, and adding yet more routes on top of it would only make it more so — and stack on more hours we had to spend searching them.

We also touched base with Marie and Romani to let them know what we'd found out and where we were planning on going next. They'd already known that we had defeated Babbage, of course, because they could see it on their sensors, but neither of them was particularly happy about the idea of sending us down into the Underground.

"It's not that it's going to be all that much harder to track you or anything," Romani told us, "but I have to admit, I'm not super excited about you guys going down there when this M guy could just drop the ceiling on you."

"Thanks, Doc," said Rika, "I was trying real hard not to think about that!"

Romani laughed awkwardly. "Sorry?"

Marie wasn't any more pleased, but she consoled herself with the fact that us investigating the ley lines meant that we should be able to contact Chaldea more easily if we happened to need some assistance.

"So don't hesitate to ask!" she ordered sternly. "The most important thing is still that all of you survive to continue the Grand Order, which means no unnecessary risk-taking!"

"Of course, Director."

And as expected, Da Vinci didn't have a spare gas mask for Tohsaka to use tomorrow.

"I'm many things, but I'm afraid a miracle worker isn't one of them," she told us apologetically. "If we had the resources to spare, then I think I could have one ready for you in the morning, but I'm sorry to say that I'm stretched a little too thin to make one from scratch right now. I do, however, have something else for you."

Rika perked up. "Another present? Nose plugs? Air freshener? A hermetically sealed helmet?"

"Gesundheit," Ritsuka said sardonically. She stuck her tongue back out at him.

"Nothing that can help you with your fog situation, sorry," Da Vinci replied, laughter in her voice. "It should help with the problem of keeping in touch with the others at the apartment, however, so once more, Mash, if you would…"

When the room was cleared and her shield set down, the magic circle formed and the Rayshift deposited another box, this one even smaller than the one that held my mask. Inside of it turned out to be a set of metallic wristbands, one for Jekyll, one for Renée, and one for Tohsaka.

"Since you've had to split up so often, it seemed prudent to leave a more reliable method of communication behind, just in case something happens," Da Vinci explained. "We'll need you to return them once the Singularity is resolved and the deviations start being corrected, but for now, the Master candidates they originally belonged to…aren't using them at the moment."

Mash and Ritsuka both sucked in sharp breaths, and any trace of a smile fled Rika's face. They understood what Da Vinci was implying, although the others didn't ask for details. Whether out of courtesy or simple lack of interest, I couldn't say for sure.

Tohsaka had to fiddle with his a little before he figured out how to put it on, but Jekyll examined his curiously instead of fitting it around his wrist immediately.

"You have my thanks, Miss Da Vinci," he said. "I'm certain that this device will prove its usefulness in the coming days."

"If you need any help figuring out how to use it, Taylor or Mash should be able to explain it," Da Vinci said. "I'm afraid the instruction manual is usually delivered during orientation and couldn't be miniaturized in time, so I'll have to put the burden on their shoulders. My apologies."

"It's fine."

"It's no trouble, Miss Da Vinci."

And with everything taken care of for the moment, that was it. Those were all the preparations we could put into our outing tomorrow morning, at least with the supplies and support we had access to then and there. The only other things Marie, Romani, and Da Vinci could do were wish us luck and promise to watch our progress closely.

When ten o'clock rolled around, we all got ready for bed, then climbed the stairs to the second floor. This time, Jackie didn't put up much of a fight at all about dematerializing her knives, and she was only too happy to snuggle up in my arms as though she really was my daughter.

If she came back with us once this was all over… Yeah, she probably wasn't going to want to have her own room, was she? I…wasn't quite sure how to feel about that. I wasn't sure what it would mean to be her mother on a longer term basis or how I would handle it. She was generally pretty agreeable now, but if she started acting more like a child her age in other ways? How did I punish her?

That was a bridge I'd cross when I came to it.

That night, I slept strangely well, and if I dreamed, then by the time I woke up the next morning, I remembered none of it. I was the first up out of our group, but not by long, because Jackie woke almost as though she'd set an alarm to my circadian rhythm, and she was only too happy to give me a smile and say, "Good morning, Mommy."

"Good morning, Jackie," I replied.

The others slowly followed, waking up one by one as I was getting dressed, first with Tohsaka, then Ritsuka, then Mash, then Fran, and finally, Rika, who groggily asked for "five more minutes" and was mercilessly told that if she wasn't up in time for breakfast, then she wasn't getting any. She climbed out of bed very quickly after that.

The power her stomach held over that girl, at least when it came to Emiya's — and now Renée's — cooking.

By the time we all made our way down the stairs, the smell of breakfast was strong in the air, and Rika was very much awake, as though that alone was enough to invigorate her. She was nearly vibrating with her excitement.

"Last night was boring," Jeanne Alter complained when we entered the parlor, which I took to mean that nothing had happened while we were asleep.

"Thanks for keeping watch," Ritsuka told her.

She scoffed and waved him off, a roll of her wrist over the back of the sofa. "Not like I had anything better to do around here. Let me know when breakfast is ready. I'm too comfy to get up right now."

"Will do," Ritsuka said.

The rest of our alliance was waiting for us in the dining room, already sipping on a morning cup of tea, and Flamel, Jekyll, and Mordred all gave us a greeting of their own when we came in. Mordred's, naturally, was a simple, "Yo!"

We all took a seat, and when Renée came out of the kitchen several minutes later carrying a silvery platter, Jeanne Alter entered the room shortly thereafter, unwilling to miss the chance at a good meal.

Breakfast, of course, was delicious, and enjoyed by everyone except Emiya, who never seemed to want to admit that Renée was anything approaching as good a cook as he was. We spent a few minutes afterwards letting our food settle and digest, but after that, it was time for us to get going and begin the day's investigation.

Fortunately, it didn't take long for everyone to put on the finishing touches, like slipping their shoes on or checking to make sure they had all of their equipment and such, and I tucked my mask into my equipment pouch. I was definitely going to need it later on, if we didn't find anything before the fog rolled in, at least, but there was no point in wearing it before then, and I was honestly more comfortable leaving it off.

I wasn't the person I'd been even two years ago, when I first gave it to Da Vinci, and I didn't really want to be.

"I'll keep an eye on things here," Arash promised. "Stay safe, everyone."

"Of course."

The one who should be saying something like that was me. After all, most of our Servants were going to be coming with us, and it would really only be him and Andersen to protect the apartment. Considering Andersen being Andersen, what that actually meant was that Arash would be the sole defender.

But as much as that bothered me, if this really was the final battle, then we couldn't afford to leave behind anyone else.

"Don't worry, Arash!" said Rika. "We've got Cinnabon with us, and Jalter, and Mo-chan! The bad guys won't know what hit 'em!"

"We're here, too, you know," Tohsaka grumbled.

"And Tohsaka and Alice," Rika added.

Arash chuckled. "Then I'll leave my Master in everyone's capable hands."

"I won't let anything happen to Miss Taylor," Mash swore.

Emiya chose that moment to appear, walking out of the tea room and crossing the parlor. "Looks like I'm the last one to show up." He held up another square-ish package, wrapped in a linen napkin, pinching the knot between his thumb, middle, and forefinger. "That maid had another gift for us to take with us. More of those cakes, by the smell of them."

He handed it over to Mash, who accepted it gingerly. "Oh," she said. "Miss Renée is very thoughtful, isn't she?"

She carefully placed it in the compartment in her shield, normally used to hold the Grails we retrieved.

"It's her way of showing affection," Flamel revealed.

"You guys done flapping your gums yet? C'mon," said Mordred. "We're burning daylight. Let's just get this thing going already."

"Right." I brought up the map again, then changed the mode over so that the overlay of the London Underground routes sat above it in glowing, gently curving lines. "The nearest station isn't that far off." I pointed out the small, swollen dot, one of several that sat along the length of each of those lines. "It'll only take us a few minutes to reach it. If everyone else is ready, we can go now."

There were no objections, so we filed out of the house and into the street, a comically large group with comically mismatched people — three knights in shining armor, a man in a cloak and Renaissance era breeches and tunic, three people dressed in futuristic slacks (a skirt, in Rika's case) and shirts, a man in a kimono over a business suit, a young girl who could have been that man's daughter, wearing a flowery pink kimono, a girl in a dirty wedding gown, a man in futuristic body armor, and a girl in a dirty, tattered black cloak.

"Fou!"

…And a gremlin that didn't know when to keel over and die.

Unfortunately, it was still something like fifty years too early for him to get hit by a car crossing the road, so I guess I just had to keep putting up with his presence. At least he was more interested in riding on Mash's shoulder than trying to ride on mine.

I could give him that much for saving my life the other day.

The streets, however, were still as empty as they had been the past several days, and so there was no one to give us strange looks or cross to the opposite side of the street to avoid our group. Likely, they were all still terrified to leave their houses, despite the clear morning, for fear that the mist might return at any moment and smother them. I couldn't say that I necessarily blamed them, but I didn't know how long they could afford to keep avoiding the outside when everyone's supplies must have been running low by this point.

All the more reason to finish this as quickly as possible, something we'd known since we first arrived here.

True to my word, it didn't take us long at all to make our way to the first station leading down into the Underground, and it was only a couple of minutes of walking before we arrived at a five or six story building that looked like it had been constructed at the same time as the British Museum using much the same materials. The base was some sort of marbled brown stone, but the rest of the building that sat on top of it was a familiar, creamy off white color, leading up into an overhang that jutted out over the windows of the fourth floor and a blocky roof covered in grayish blue tiles.

On the bottom floor was a large entryway, broad enough across for four people to comfortably walk through side by side, five if they squeezed together, and it led almost immediately into a stairway that descended below the pavement and beneath the ground. The sign hanging above it read, "Mansion House Station."

"This is it," I announced.

"Oof," said Rika, peering into the darkened stairway, which was much narrower. "Spooky, spooky. This M guy really knows how to pick his underground bases. Are you sure Bond isn't around, Senpai? 'Cause this is giving me major Bond villain vibes."

My cheek twitched. "Yes."

Although at this point, not as sure as I wanted to be. If we ever did encounter James Bond, then Rika would never let me live it down.

"Scared?" Jeanne Alter teased.

"It's a healthy fear. Healthy!" Rika insisted, and then she smiled. "But I've got a bunch of really strong people here with me, so if this is where we gotta go, then I guess this is where we go. At least it isn't as spooky as that Clock Tower place."

"Although I'm not sure you have to worry about something strange jumping out at you any less," Emiya drawled.

Rika gasped, and even Mash looked worried.

"I…never read about anything like that, but," she began, "is there really something strange down in the Underground?"

"Normally, no," I said. I gave Emiya an unimpressed look. "But since we don't know who M is or what his skillset is, we should keep our guards up, just in case he's left a few nasty surprises around for us to stumble across."

"As long as there are no alligators," Rika said vehemently.

Ritsuka huffed a short laugh. "Isn't that supposed to be New York?"

"You never know!"

"Mash," I said, "Jeanne Alter, you go down first, then Mordred and Fran, then Ritsuka, you and Rika. Jackie and I will be after you, then Tohsaka and Alice, and Emiya and…Abraham will bring up the rear."

No one had any objections to the order I'd chosen, so we took a minute to rearrange ourselves into it, and then Jeanne Alter and Mash entered the station and began their way down the stairs, weapons held at the ready. The rest of us followed, and in the quiet, the clack and clang of our footsteps and our equipment jostling echoed off of the walls.

The stairway started dark, but not long down it, gas lamps began appearing, but only about half of them were actually lit. The others, it seemed, were either damaged or simply out of whatever oil they burned.

Midway, Jackie reached out and tugged on my sleeve, whispering up at me, "Mommy, what's an alligator?"

Ahead of me, Rika snorted and stifled her laughter behind her hands. I pretended not to hear her.

"A very big lizard," I told Jackie, "with very sharp teeth and very strong jaws. They don't live anywhere near here, though, so there won't be any down where we're going."

"Oh," said Jackie. "Okay."

Contrary to Emiya's teasing, nothing jumped out at us, and we made it to the bottom of the stairs without being accosted by any sort of enemy, not even one of the automata. I snuck some bugs down with us, marching them down in places where none of the others were looking, just to avoid creeping anyone out. It was a sparse swarm, but it would hopefully be enough to give me a better sense of my surroundings while we were out looking.

Waiting at the bottom was a railway platform, lit by more gas lamps. It stretched out to either side, lined with brickwork, and dropped steeply to the tracks that sat at the center. On the opposite side was another platform much the same as the one we found ourselves on, leading back up to the other side of the station. Naked steel beams ran across the ceiling, lined the entire way with large rivets and supported by more steel beams that formed pillars between the two sets of tracks. They were interspersed with thinner concrete pillars.

A pair of tunnels — or perhaps more accurately a single tunnel that ran through the platforms — stretched out in either direction, one easterly and heading towards Whitechapel and one westerly, bound for Westminster. The gas lamps lit the platforms well enough, but their light died not far into the tunnels, making it impossible to see what hid in the darkness beyond.

The air was more humid than I'd been expecting, carrying with it a damp chill that reminded of the fog, but I probably should have realized that it would be. The entrances to the Underground were not shut, had no doors to close, so there was nothing stopping the fog from descending down into it. And if the fog originated from somewhere down here? Then of course it would linger, just because there was no sun to cook it off.

At least it was too diminished to do anything. No friction on my magic circuits at all, so the magical energy in it was too thin to start eating away at my lungs again. It was just a wet chill in the air and nothing more. Small mercies.

"This is creepy," Rika muttered.

"I've never seen a subway so empty," Ritsuka agreed quietly. They came from Tokyo, so I didn't imagine they'd ever seen one that had no people in it at all.

"It doesn't look like the trains are running either," Emiya noted. "Which I suppose makes sense, considering no one seems willing to leave their homes."

"It means we won't have to worry about trying to avoid them," I said.

Not that I'd thought we would, but it was a nice thing to have it confirmed. No people in the station looking to go anywhere meant no trains we had to dodge.

"So?" said Mordred. "Which way?"

"Uhn," Fran grunted.

I spared the easterly tunnel only a short glance and dismissed it just as quickly. There were no Ley Line Terminals in that direction, and more than that, the enemy's presence in Whitechapel had been so sparse that I wasn't willing to even think it was a ruse meant to draw our attention elsewhere in the city. For M to be that confident in himself that he would eschew a stronger defensive line didn't line up with what we knew so far, sparse as that was.

That really only left one direction.

West it was.
— o.0.O.O.0.o —​
This chapter was mostly setup for the next couple of chapters, although we did progress a few things in the meantime, too. I have a few ideas that may or may not get used next chapter, so paying attention to what Taylor says and narrates in this one may have some additional pay off next week.

The week after next will be the next interlude, titled, "Once Upon a Dream." That will kick off the end run of this Singularity, although I've still got a few surprises tucked in my back pocket between now and then.

I know some people are getting tired of the meal scenes. Even if some of them are just fluff, I do sneak important details into the narration sometimes, and the reason I don't just skip them entirely instead of largely summarizing them is a choice about verisimilitude — about showing the passage of time and the realities of their rations. Looking back, I kind of wish I'd emphasized the latter a little bit more as we went, but it's one of those things that would have gotten ironed out and brought in line if this was a novel releasing all at once instead of a serialized work.
Next — Chapter CLI: Down in the Underground
"My fucking egg donor."
 
Chapter CLI: Down in the Underground
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And now that the shameless plugging is out of the way...

Chapter CLI: Down in the Underground

I never wanted a night vision mode in my mask more than I did as we walked down that westerly tunnel.

The sparse swarm I'd brought down with us helped, but I had devoted them mostly to looking for any signs of secret entrances to villainous lairs, which meant they were mainly exploring the walls of the tunnel, not the floor. It helped to keep me oriented in the right direction instead of drifting to either side, but it made me effectively blind to anything that might have been on the ground to trip me up.

The flashlight function on our communicators also helped, but us Masters were sandwiched in the center of the column of our Servants, and armor like Mordred's and a shield like Mash's cast long, large shadows on the floor. The night blindness inherent in using flashlights only made the contrast starker, but it wasn't like there was enough light from any other source for us to navigate by anyway. We left the gas lamps from the station platform behind quickly enough that they might as well have been candles, and none of the maintenance lights were lit.

"Creepy," Rika muttered, but with how her voice echoed off the tunnels, she might as well have shouted. "I'm getting some serious flashbacks to Senpai's School of Caster Trauma."

I resisted the urge to arch an eyebrow at her. She wouldn't have seen it anyway.

"School of Caster Trauma?" Tohsaka asked, bemused.

"Rika and I were…last minute picks for the Master roster," Ritsuka explained as diplomatically as he could. "We didn't get the full training course in time and barely had any orientation before things went…wrong. Senpai had to give us some extra training between deployments."

"Ah," Tohsaka said in a way that made it clear he really didn't understand.

"So she did a scary Caster simulation thingy," Rika added. "To show us how scary it is to fight a Caster in their lair."

"It was impressive," said Emiya. "I suppose there's a reason why Taylor is the senior Master on this team, although it does make me curious where she got such experience."

Even if I was inclined to share, I wasn't quite sure how I would have gone about explaining it properly, so the only thing I could tell him was, "It's the way my powers are built. It's just a coincidence that I happen to benefit from time and a place to set up as Casters and magi do."

No one else seemed to know where to go with that or what question they wanted to ask for more detail, so for a minute or two, the conversation died and we kept trudging along. Eventually, however, as the topic faded, Mash found something else to focus on and broke the silence.

"It's very quiet down here," she said softly. "And the magical energy is…very sparse."

"Except for what's coming from the remnants of the mist," said Emiya.

"It's not a very fun place to play," said Nursery Rhyme. "There's nowhere to hide for Hide and Seek."

And no sign that anyone had been down here at all since this whole thing started, let alone M and the other masterminds. It wasn't impossible that they had been using the Underground as a way to sneak around the city without running the risk of us finding them, whether on accident in the fog or on purpose during the morning hours, but if they had, they hadn't left a trail behind for us to follow.

Of course, I wasn't sure I would have trusted it if they had. It would have felt too much like a trap. If it really was Moriarty at the end of all of this, then I wouldn't have dared to walk into it, just because I knew better than to think I could outsmart the guy famous for being the nemesis of Sherlock Holmes.

"Tch." Mordred scoffed, clicking her tongue. "This M guy could've at least done us the favor of leaving a sign out or something. 'Secret lair over here!' or some shit like that."

"Because you need it spelled out for you, British?" Jeanne Alter mocked.

"Fuck you," Mordred replied irritably. "I hate all of this cloak and dagger bullshit."

"Ha!" Jeanne Alter laughed. "Aren't you the one who rebelled against your pops and overthrew the whole kingdom while he was off in Rome or whatever?"

"Fuck off!" Mordred snarled. "This and that aren't even in the same goddamn universe! I did what I did because it was the only fucking shot I had at winning. When the time came to fight my father, at least I had the balls to go up and do it to his goddamn face!"

She wound back her foot and planted it solidly in the nearest rail, and the metallic bong vibrated through the whole tunnel, bouncing off of the walls until it was like a chorus of vibrating steel. I wasn't the only one that winced, but I might have been the only one who noticed the huge bend in the rail she left behind.

"That's why I'm here," she went on heatedly. "The only one who has any right to destroy Father's country is me! This fucker ain't got no right to go and try this shit, not while I'm here to say he can't! He needs to step back and get in fucking line or come up to my fucking face and ask my goddamn permission!"

"None of us likes the situation as it is," I said neutrally. I didn't judge what she was saying — our motives were different and the situations weren't anything at all alike, but I had taken over a portion of my home, too, and done some things I wasn't exactly proud of to keep it running. Some of that probably counted as rebellion against a lawful authority or whatever. "But hiding and biding his time serves M far better than it does us. All he has to do is run out the clock, while we have to find him before supplies run out and the city dies. There's nothing we can do to change that when we aren't even sure who he is."

"I know!" Mordred snapped, and then she gritted her teeth and looked away, scuffing her foot against the ground. "Just…pisses me off, is all. Reminds me of…someone I don't like."

"Someone you don't like?" Tohsaka asked.

She shot him a dirty look. "Who do you fucking think?"

It took me a second to actually put the clues together, but when I thought back to what she'd said when we first brought up the topic of who M might be and someone suggested Morgan le Fey, it seemed obvious. Of course, because what child who had a good relationship with her mother referred to her as a bitch?

"I'm…actually in the dark on this one, Mo-chan," Rika said, raising her hand. "Who…exactly are you talking about?"

Mordred's brow furrowed, and she grimaced, glancing back at Tohsaka. She looked like the idea of saying it out loud physically pained her, so I reached down across the bond of our temporary contract.

Want me to explain it? I asked.

Nah, was all she gave me as a reply. The tone she conveyed, however, was reluctant and grudging, like she knew she needed to be the one to do it but hated the fact that it had to be her.

"My fucking egg donor," she eventually said, but you might have thought she was getting a tooth pulled for how much she gritted it out.

"Egg donor?" Mash and Ritsuka echoed.

"Wait, wait," said Rika. "We're talking about Mama Morgana, right? The lady who, uh… Actually, now that I think about it, how does that work? Since King Arthur was secretly a girl and everything."

I honestly wasn't sure I wanted the answer to that.

"If there's one thing you should understand about Arthurian Britain, Master," Emiya drawled, "it's that so much of what went wrong boils down to the meddling of two mages who never learned to leave well enough alone."

"One of them just happened to be a bitch who never got over herself," Mordred muttered darkly.

"Fou fou-kyu fou fou," the little gremlin agreed just as darkly.

"That…doesn't explain as much as I think you think it does," Rika said.

It didn't, but Emiya was remarkably touchy about the subject of King Arthur, and I had enough tact to know that — even if he actually had an answer — asking him about the sex life of the woman he loved wasn't exactly the sort of thing you just did. Especially if she was his Servant and he saw it through the dream cycle, because that had to be incredibly awkward, and even more so to bring it up with her.

The thought brought me up short. Oh god, had Arash seen what I had gotten up to with Brian?

I felt my cheeks and the tips of my ears warm, and I was suddenly incredibly thankful both that Arash wasn't there with us and that it was too dark for anyone to see it and ask, because there were a lot of things I wasn't sure I should say about my past, but that was one of the things that I was taking to my goddamn grave. Lisa knowing had been an unavoidable hazard of her power, but my sex life was definitely not something I was going to talk about to the twins and Mash.

Emiya shifted. "Shh."

Rika looked back at him over her shoulder. "Did you actually just —"

"Master!" he hissed, and something in his tone must have reached Rika, because her mouth snapped shut and everyone came to a sudden halt.

A few seconds of silence passed. All I could hear was the sound of my heart beating and my breath slowly leaving my nostrils.

And then, I heard it, a soft, distant clang as something or someone carelessly hit one of the rails. Carefully, I sent some of my bugs out and had one land on each of the rails. The vibration that I would have struggled to feel with my own fingertips was like the world shaking to them.

"We're not alone," I whispered.

"Should we shut off our flashlights?" Ritsuka whispered back.

In a different situation, it wouldn't have been a bad idea. It was just that the lack of light probably impacted us more than it did the enemy, seeing as we had no idea how it was the Helter Skelter, automata, and homunculi were navigating the mist this entire time. They certainly seemed to have had some idea what they were doing and where they were going, so echolocation or infrared or something along those lines might have been a functionality built into them from the beginning.

It felt like none of those should be things that a nineteenth century mathematician knew enough about to recreate, but I had no idea how long magi had had access to spells that could do the same thing, so who even knew at this point?

Instead, I said, "Can any of you sense the presence of another Servant?"

"Outside of our happy little group?" Jeanne Alter asked.

"No," said Emiya. "They might still be too far away for us to sense properly yet, but I think the more likely answer is simply that this is another one of the enemy's patrol groups. After all, if M is hiding out down here somewhere, this is where it would make the most sense to have them, isn't it?"

Maybe. But there were all sorts of bluffs and double bluffs and triple bluffs that you could start to get into when you asked a question like that, such as trying to convince your enemy that there wasn't anything of interest down in the Underground by making it seem completely undefended. There were always risks and tradeoffs to gambits like that, so often the one that most people might find the safest was to have a defensive force protecting you just on the off chance someone did come to investigate or attack.

Of course, if you had some sort of Stranger ability or illusion-based power to hide your secret lair, then leaving your base otherwise defenseless was the right choice. Did this confirm, then, that M had no such thing? Maybe.

"I don't sense a Servant either, Miss Taylor," Mash said. "The remnants of the fog down here don't seem very strong, so I don't think it's hiding."

"More of those Helter Skelter?" Tohsaka suggested.

"Maybe."

Or an Assassin with Presence Concealment. But an Assassin who made a mistake like that was either a very bad one or a very good one, and right then, it didn't make much difference. We needed to keep going that way no matter what.

"Ain't what I would've liked," said Mordred, "but I got some steam to blow off, so it's all the same to me. Let's go smash 'em!"

"Speaking my language, British," said Jeanne Alter.

"Just keep an eye out," I told them both. "It might be a trap."

"Might be?" Rika echoed incredulously. "Senpai, we're literally trying to sneak into the bad guy's Bond lair to steal the Macguffin out of his Doomsday machine! This whole thing is a trap!"

"Mash," Ritsuka began, pretending she hadn't spoken, "you, too."

Mash nodded firmly. "Right!"

"Only sane woman," Rika grumbled to herself. "Only one in the entire group, I swear."

It wasn't that her point was necessarily wrong, it was just that it didn't make a difference if it wasn't. M wasn't going to come out and have a duel with Mordred if we went to Trafalgar Square and issued a formal challenge and he certainly wasn't going to hand over the Grail if we asked nicely.

So we started walking again, our feet crunching the blackened gravel that coated the ground and the light of our flashlights swaying back and forth with each step. My bugs continued feeling out the walls, looking for any inconsistency as they had before, with a smaller contingent spreading out ahead of us, out of the light of our flashlights, running a screen for whoever or whatever might be waiting for us.

When, some minutes later, they finally came into my range, a breath hissed out of my nostrils. I wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed, because while it would have been nice to stumble across another Servant or M himself down here just that easily, it would have felt a little too easy, and if it wasn't M but another one of his patsies, then we'd just be giving ourselves away.

"It's a patrol group," I announced. "Three homunculi, three automata. No Helter Skelter."

Mordred's mouth twisted into a scowl. "Damn, that's no fun."

Flamel stroked his beard. "Perhaps, without Babbage to make more, the enemy is being somewhat more selective regarding the deployment of the remaining Helter Skelter. They require quite a bit more, after all, than the construction of homunculi, especially if Paracelsus produced them en masse in vats."

"Ew," said Rika.

"How did you think he made them?" Jeanne Alter asked her. "Planting a few seeds in the ground and watering them for a day or two?"

Rika stuck her tongue out at Jeanne Alter.

"Take them out quickly," I ordered Mordred. "We can't waste any time playing around with them."

"Yeah, yeah," she replied. "Not like they're that much fun to mess around with anyway. Fuckers are too weak for that. I'll be sure —" she kicked off the ground and raced down the tunnel — "to crush 'em real fast for ya!"

"Hey!" Jeanne Alter squawked as she raced after Mordred. "Who said you could go off and do it by yourself, you bitch!"

"You know," Rika said in their wake, "I can't decide if they're Naruto and Sasuke or Zoro and Sanji."

Who?

"More like Legolas and Gimli," her brother said.

Oh.

The rest of us followed more sedately, but only because us Masters were only human and couldn't run anywhere near as fast as our Servants could, and the Servants sticking with us weren't willing to leave us behind. It wasn't long before the echoes of battle bounced back to us off of the walls, the crash and screech of the automata's bodies cracking and shattering beneath the edges of Mordred and Jeanne Alter's swords, and quieter, the meaty squelch of the homunculi being cleaved into pieces just as easily and just as brutally.

By the time the rest of us arrived on the scene, it looked more like a battlefield or the floor of a slaughterhouse. Hunks of bloodied flesh were strewn all over, washed out by the stark light of our flashlights, and shards of whatever it was the automata were actually made of were scattered like pieces of broken pottery. A finger there, a smashed head there, half of a limb over there, creating a morbid tableau that looked more like the aftermath of a Slaughterhouse Nine attack than a battle.

Mordred and Jeanne Alter stood at the center of it. Splashes of blood from the homunculi ran in ropes and splotches over their armor, but of course, neither of them was at all hurt.

"See?" said Mordred, grinning as she turned to us. The blade of her sword rested against her shoulder, stained with blood and oil. "Like I said. Easy!"

"Never doubted you for a second!" said Rika. She deliberately avoided looking at the carnage on the ground.

"No Helter Skelter whatsoever," Flamel remarked. "Hm. Perhaps I was more right than I thought I was, and M truly does intend to use them as little as possible."

"They were Babbage's inventions in the first place, weren't they?" Ritsuka reasoned. "Without him, any that M has around are now all he can use, so it makes sense that he would be more careful about using them."

I'd had a similar thought before. In the midst of all of our other preparations, I'd forgotten to check the map to see if their trackers had moved or if they'd simply dropped — useless — to the ground when the Helter Skelter vanished with Babbage's defeat. The fact we hadn't run into any on our way to the Underground said nothing, since we hadn't run into any patrol groups sheerly because it was so close to the apartment.

"It begs the question, however: how many Helter Skelter does M have left?" Flamel said. "For that matter, what level of quality are they? The common types, the middling command units, or the elites that we've seen so rarely? Perhaps the latter are the only ones I could see as being truly worth keeping in reserve."

"We shouldn't make any assumptions just yet," I said. "The Ley Line Terminal isn't too far ahead of us. Let's see if there's anything for us to find there."

So we continued on, stepping past the gore and the mess and further down the tunnel. I kept my anemic swarm looking, of course, but the further we went, the more I was convinced that we'd chosen the wrong line to investigate. That one patrol group wound up being the only one we encountered, and I wasn't sure if that was because M had realized where we were and pulled back to stay hidden or simply because he really hadn't dedicated that much of a force to patrolling the Underground.

Before I knew it, we'd reached the next station, and although I'd known what we would find because of what I had — or rather, hadn't — seen with my bugs, that didn't make me any happier to find it completely empty and untouched. At the center of the station, sandwiched between the two platforms, I stopped and announced, "This is it."

It looked a lot like the one we'd come from. Similar design, similar architecture, only no steel girders forming pillars through the center. The signs posted on the walls and hanging from the ceiling said "Temple Station."

Technically, the center of the Ley Line Terminal was actually a bit further northward, but London had strong ley lines, and this particular Terminal was absolutely massive, stretching out from the British Museum all the way to the middle of the river. If Ley Line Terminals could be compared to stars, then normal Terminals were, to my understanding, like main sequence stars, and this one was a supergiant.

This wasn't technically the closest we could get to it on this line, but I had enough range to see where the closest point was, and there wasn't anything else there either.

"Nothing," Ritsuka noted. "Is he just not here?"

"This particular Ley Line Terminal is rather large, is it not?" said Flamel. "We may have more luck investigating it closer to the center — that is, along the railway that crosses closest to the Mage's Association."

"It's the next line we'll investigate," I confirmed. "For now, the next station is in Westminster, closer to Buckingham Palace and the House of Parliament. After that, there's another Ley Line Terminal near the St. James' Park Station. We'll look there next."

"This is starting to look more like a wild goose chase," said Tohsaka. "Are you sure Babbage wasn't leading you on?"

No. The only thing that made his hint credible was the fact that he'd had to fight so hard to give it to us, and even that could have been a ruse or an act he was forced to put on. The trouble with that was the obvious problem, namely —

"It's the only lead we have, right now. Unless you have any suggestions?"

I looked back at him over my shoulder, but he just grimaced and looked away. Alice heaved out a sigh. "At this rate, there won't be anyone for us to play with today."

"It's okay, Alice," said Jackie. "We can have another tea party later."

My lips thinned, but that was all I let show on my face. As long as it wasn't the same kind of tea party that had nearly gotten me and the twins killed.

"I'm sure Renée will be happy to make some tea for you, if you ask," I said.

Jackie smiled up at me. "Mm! We want to try some tea from Mommy sometime, though!"

A pang of old pain curdled my insides, but I still promised her, "I'll have to make you some the way my mom made it for me when we get the chance."

"We can't wait!"

We pressed on, going further down the line, and it wasn't long at all before we left Temple Station and its gas lamps behind us. Once more, we had to turn to our flashlights to see anything at all, and there wasn't really much to see. It was just tunnel and tracks, stretching on and into the dark, past the light of our flashlights.

It took us another half an hour to reach the next station, and this one seemed to be made almost entirely of naked concrete. Concrete walls, a concrete ceiling, concrete pillars. Several signs declared it to be Westminster Station, and several more pointed to different exits, each of them with different labels, like "Westminster Abbey" and "House of Parliament" or "Big Ben," all of the famous London landmarks.

"Hey, wait a minute," said Rika. She squinted over at one of the signs. "Weren't we just around here yesterday?"

"We were," I told her. "We fought Babbage and the high spec just a block or two from here."

She grimaced, then shook her head and gave an exaggerated shrug. "Well, I guess it could be worse. If this guy was right under our feet the whole time, I would've been pissed!"

A sentiment I agreed with.

"We could have checked for M down here on our way back to the apartment yesterday," Mash mumbled, and while she wasn't wrong, I didn't think it would have been the best idea to try.

If M really had been down here and we came to investigate it yesterday, then we might have walked right into his lair, and into any traps he might have set to defend it. Frankly, it was better we were doing this with Flamel here, because at least he was a competent Caster. The only thing we would have been able to do to avoid getting destroyed by whatever defenses M might have was huddle behind Mash and Mordred and hope their Magic Resistance and Mash's shield could protect us.

"We didn't have Abraham with us yesterday," I said, summarizing my thoughts.

Flamel smiled. "I'm flattered you regard me with such esteem, my dear. I only hope I might live up to it."

So far? He'd done a pretty good job of it.

I checked my communicator for the time and had to hold back a scowl. "We'll look into the next Terminal, then the rest of us will leave through St. James' Park Station to check the Piccadilly line. Tohsaka, do you think you can make it back to the apartment with just Alice?"

Tohsaka's lips pursed, and he looked back the way we'd come from, at the dark tunnel that seemed to swallow up the light of the lamps. Eventually, he said, "It shouldn't be any trouble. I trust Alice to protect me in case we run into anything on the way back."

Nursery Rhyme smiled. "Nothing will happen to Papa while I'm there!"

I didn't expect them to run into anything at all, and even so, I didn't like sending him back with just her, but it would be inconvenient to have to split the group up even more. If M had picked up any other Servants that we didn't know about, then splitting up could get someone killed.

There was just nothing for it.

We left Westminster Station behind and continued west down the tunnel, and once more, it wasn't long at all before the light of the gas lamps faded behind us and the only thing we had to navigate with was our flashlights. We ran into another group of automata and homunculi, but having so many Servants on our side was just overkill, and they were all taken care of with the usual ease I'd come to expect.

It still took some getting used to, being the one with overwhelming force. I'd been on the backfoot, the underdog, for so much of my career that it was just strange. Surreal. In a good way, but still.

The next Ley Line Terminal was situated right near where Westminster Abbey was on the surface, and I'd almost come to expect the fact that there was nothing there for us to find. No hidden doors that led into a secret tunnel, no false walls or secret passageways, not even an illusion cast over a hole in the tunnel that opened up into a hidden lair. By the time my real body and the rest of the group made it there, I had already explored every part of it that I could and come up empty.

The rest of the team wasn't any happier to find that out either.

"Man, what a ripoff!" Rika vented. "Hey, Senpai, are you sure Babbage was trying to tell us to look in the Underground instead of underground? Because, like, if he was trying to tell us to start digging in the nearest park, I'm gonna be real upset! Boss Lady will be getting my manicure bill!"

"Calm down, Rika," her brother said. "There's more than one tunnel for us to search. Just because we didn't find anything in this one doesn't mean we won't in one of the others."

"Are we really gonna have to search all of them?" Rika asked, dismayed.

Mash and Ritsuka traded grimaces. They didn't look any more thrilled by the idea than she was.

"We'll see," I told her. I had some small hope that the next line would be the right one, just because it got so close to that huge Terminal that sat under the Clock Tower.

Rika groaned. "We are, aren't we?"

"Fucker just can't make it easy for us, can he?" Mordred said sourly.

If it really was Moriarty, then no, he really couldn't.

As expected, there was nothing else between that spot and the next station either, and a short while later, we came upon another set of platforms, lit by yet more gas lamps. It looked much like the others before it, at least in structure, with pale, yellowish brickwork along the walls, although the coloring might have had as much to do with the lighting as anything else. Linoleum tiles patterned the stairwells in small, palm-sized squares.

I hadn't realized linoleum was that old as a material. Or was this an instance of the more modern Underground bleeding into the past?

Signs around the platforms declared that this was St. James' Station, our last stop in this tunnel.

Tohsaka, spying the signs, let out a grunt. "I suppose this is where we're meant to part ways, then?"

I turned to face him. "Yes. You shouldn't have any trouble making it back to the apartment, but there's enough leeway that you can contact us if something goes wrong and we can send Mordred or Jeanne Alter to help out."

He eyed the two of them, one of whom gave him a disinterested glance when her name was mentioned and the other of whom shot him a grin. "Lucky me," he said.

"Don't rush," I warned him. "Take your time and be careful. You should have at least half an hour to spare by the time you make it back to the Mansion House Station."

"Of course. I might not be much of a magus, but I'm not stupid."

He turned around, fiddling with his borrowed communicator for a moment, and then the flashlight function flared to life and cast an intense, bright circle along the ground.

"Let's go, Alice," said Tohsaka. "The last thing we want to do is be caught down in this place when the fog rolls in again."

"Coming, Papa!" Nursery Rhyme said brightly. She gave Jackie a wave. "Bye-bye, Jackie! See you later!"

Jackie waved back. "Bye, Alice!"

I tugged on the bond connecting us. Jackie.

She looked up at me.

I want you to follow them in spirit form, I told her. Just to make sure they get back okay on their own. Let me know if they run into any trouble.

She smiled. Okay, Mommy!

She vanished, presence and all, and a shiver swept down my spine at just how easily she had slipped from my senses. A vague tingle in my prosthetic was the only sign I had that she passed me by, because every other trace of her was gone the instant she shifted to spirit form. The only saving grace was that she had no reason to use her Information Erasure skill on us.

Presence Concealment was a terrifying ability.

"Come on," I said to the rest of the group. "Let's look through at least one other line before we stop and eat those snacks Renée made for us."

We climbed up onto the platform one at a time, although the Servants made the jump with an enviable ease. I missed my flight pack, just then, and the convenience it gave me of being able to just skip the obstacle of anything taller than my ribs. After that, it was up the stairs and back out into the gloomy light of midmorning London under a cloudy sky.

From what I heard of it, London without the fog machine mucking things up wasn't usually much better.

I made sure to gather up my anemic swarm and secret as much of it as I could into as many hiding places as I could get away with as we climbed the stairs. It wouldn't let me do much, but at least I would be able to carry them from line to line and use them in each one.

We came out on the other side of Buckingham Palace from where we'd originally fought Nursery Rhyme, with St. James' Park between us and our next destination, and while it would have been quicker and easier if we could have taken a path straight through the park, the lake that spanned a large portion of it made that impossible. We had to take a route around it instead, swinging to the west and coming within spitting distance of the palace itself.

It was a bit convenient in another way, in that, if somehow Mordred had been wrong and M had indeed taken up residence there, we got close enough for the sensors to pick up on it. Unfortunately, however, there was no sudden call from Romani or Marie to alert us to a Servant's presence or a massive magical energy response. It was hard to see, but there weren't even any lights on in the windows or guards hanging around the perimeter. It seemed that Buckingham Palace really was completely empty.

"Man, I wish we could visit," Rika said as we passed by. She cast a long, wistful look through the bars of the wrought iron fence surrounding the place. "I've always wanted to meet the Queen. I hear she's a tough old bird."

Nobody tell her that Queen Victoria was notorious for her healthy sex life, I thought wryly.

Emiya snorted. "Thinking your job at Chaldea might earn you a knighthood, Master?"

"You never know!" Rika said defensively. "All you gotta do is defend the realm and stuff, right? Isn't that what we're doing right now? Technically, kinda-sorta?"

"I think modern knighthoods are mostly just fancy titles, Senpai," Mash said apologetically. "But, maybe Queen Victoria really would have given us knighthoods, if she knew why we were here! I-I think so, at least…"

Knighthoods for an American, two Japanese kids, a…whatever nationality Mash counted as, and a bunch of ghosts of heroes past? I wasn't sure how that one would get explained in the paperwork.

"Pretty sure I could give ya one, if you really want it, Master," Mordred said, grinning. "'Course, you usually have to be a squire for a few years first, and I ain't exactly King of Britain right now, but unless Father shows up, I think I'm the closest thing you're gonna get."

Rika winced. "Uh, I-I think I'm gonna take a rain check on that, Mo-chan. Besides, it was a stupid idea anyway. It's not like I could take the certificate into school and show everyone I got knighted by Queen Victoria in 1888!"

"No one would believe you in the first place," Ritsuka added with a smile.

Mash giggled and Fran chuckled.

We took a right at the palace, kept going for a little while, then went left onto a footpath that traced the outer edge of the Green Park and stayed on that until the next station came into view ahead of us. It was cut out of the gently sloping hillside, a ramp leading down into a white stone facade, framed on either side by sturdy walls. The words "Green Park Station" were emblazoned on a sign above an open entryway, and above it, standing at the apex of the hill, there was another structure, sort of like a large bus stop. A quick look with my anemic swarm revealed a staircase that led down into the hill, and then further down into the station itself.

We entered unmolested, with no sign of any sort of resistance, and descended down the stairs into a much more cramped platform. The previous line, the District Line, had been two railways running in parallel, but the Piccadilly Line was a singular railway, and that made the tunnel and the station much smaller and a much tighter fit. If the trains were still running, then it would have made it a much more dangerous bet to jump down and follow it.

Fortunately, we weren't going to go anywhere near as far with this one as we did with the District Line. The Piccadilly Line took a pretty sharp turn right around the area of the British Museum, and it intersected with the Central Line close enough there for us to hop over to a nearby station on Tottenham Court Road and investigate the Central Line east of the Museum. There was no point in following the Piccadilly Line as far north as it could go — there was nothing up there we cared about, as far as our investigation was concerned.

So that was what we did. We went east along the Piccadilly Line, navigating awkwardly through the tunnel with our flashlights out and trying to keep a good enough eye on the tracks that we didn't stumble over them. Having my swarm, as anemic as it was, helped me to keep my footing sure, but without it, I was sure I would have been tripping every third step or so.

Mordred and Mash had the worst time of all of us, of course. Mordred, because she was in that suit of armor that seemed so especially designed to give her a larger, more masculine outline, and Mash because of her shield, which became more of a hindrance than a help with everything being as close quarters as it was.

It meant that it took us about forty-five minutes to go from Green Park to Holborn, forty-five minutes where nothing attacked us, nothing jumped out at us, and we found nothing of interest.

"Geez!" Rika complained. "Where is this guy? My shoes are gonna wear out at this rate! I'm gonna need new shoes! I'm billing him for them!"

"I…don't think that's how your Mystic Code works, Senpai," Mash hedged.

"It's the principle of the thing!" Rika insisted.

"We'll eat Renée's snacks and take a short break at the next station, Rika," I promised.

She groaned. "Ugh!"

"Uhn, uh-uhn," Fran said sympathetically.

"And I still can't understand what you're saying!" Rika said, frustrated.

"Uhn…"

She sulked the rest of the way to Russell Square. It was, fortunately, only about half as far from Holborn to there as it was from Green Park to Holborn. On the other hand, we took our time as we scoured the tunnel, and there was still no sign of M, his underground (or Underground) base, or Angrboða. Even when we passed straight through the influence of that enormous Ley Line Terminal, we found nothing.

Could he have been further north? Maybe. Could he have been further west than we wound up going? Possibly. But unless he could move his machine around at will and had free access to teleportation, neither of which were necessarily impossible, getting his patrol groups in place over as and where we'd encountered them the last few days would have been too much of a hassle if he was too far away from Westminster and Soho. Those were, after all, where we'd found the largest concentrations of his forces, and where we'd fought Mephistopheles, Paracelsus, the high spec Helter Skelter, and Babbage.

He was somewhere along one of these lines that went through central London. I was sure of it. The only trick was finding out which one.

Russell Square Station was much like Holborn and Green Park, and like the rest of the stations on the Piccadilly Line, fairly small. It had only a single railway line, so it had a single platform, and aside from the signs directing people about, it looked much the same, too. I just wished our search along the way had been a little more fruitful than the others had been.

True to my word, we took a little break and sat down on the stairs, until Emiya produced a small table and some chairs for us to sit at. They all, at least, looked like they belonged in this era, like something out of a historical drama, with plush, velvet padding and finely carved wooden frames. Mash retrieved Renée's cakes from the compartment in her shield, and Emiya even went so far as to add plates and silverware for us to use, too.

Rika was the most obviously grateful for the break, but Mash, Ritsuka, and even Fran couldn't hide from me their own relief as they sank into their chairs. I guess we had been at this for close to three hours now, and three hours of walking in the dark wasn't exactly fun.

Speaking of which…

Arash, I said, giving a gentle yank on the line of our bond, Tohsaka and Nursery Rhyme should be arriving back at the apartment soon. Once they're settled in, come and meet up with us.

Nursery Rhyme and her fairy tale nonsense should be more than enough to protect the apartment. The Jabberwocky had stood up to the combined might of everything we'd thrown at it, after all, and basically shrugged it all off.

Got it, Arash replied. I'll catch up with you guys as soon as I can.

With that taken care of, I went back to my cake and let myself relax and enjoy the sweet burst of sugar and fruit that exploded on my tongue with every bite.

We sat and rested for a few minutes once we were all done eating, but after that, it was time to get back to work. I had less than an hour before I'd have to pull out my mask and put it on as the fog rolled in, so the longer I could go without it, the happier I would be.

Russell Square Station opened out into an ordinary street about a block northeast from the British Museum, not far from another small park appropriately named Russell Square, and the Tottenham Court Road station was only a street or two southwest of the Museum. It was not nearly as much of a hike as it could have been, although we had to pass by the ruined remains of the Museum to reach it.

I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but for there to be no sign of the scraps we'd left behind of the Helter Skelter that had accompanied Paracelsus wasn't quite it. Had they really just disappeared when Babbage died? It seemed that way. If they were an expression of his Noble Phantasm, then without him here, there was nothing to sustain them, was there?

That just left the question of exactly how Angrboða was still around. I guess Babbage had built it entirely independently of his Noble Phantasm. If he'd just constructed it from resources inside the Singularity itself, then we'd have to destroy the machine to make it stop and manually retrieve the Grail that served as its power source. We just had to find it first.

The next station on our list was in a large building sat on the corner of an intersection, but just across the street from that building was another entrance, just a set of stairs that descended into the pavement and disappeared beneath the sidewalk.

"This is it," I said. "We'll take this line east and look for the Ley Line Terminal along the way, then come out at the Bank Underground station and head back to Jekyll's for lunch."

And try to figure out where the hell else M could be. There was another Terminal to the west along this line, but aside from trying to avoid attention, I couldn't see why he would have gone there instead of the biggest Terminal in the city.

"Right!" Mash and the twins said, echoed by Fran's, "Uhn!"

"Let's go kick this bastard's front door in!" Mordred agreed.

"And burn the house down while we're at it," Jeanne Alter added for good measure.

"I think the scariest thing to happen this entire Singularity is the two of them getting along," Emiya drawled.

Mordred and Jeanne Alter both flipped him the bird. The funnier part was that they didn't seem to realize they'd done it in eerie synchronicity, like they were two people sharing one brain.

Alec and Lisa probably would have had a witty line for them about that, something to tease them about just how closely they'd mirrored each other. They really were getting along way better than I would have expected before we came to London, especially considering how prickly Jeanne Alter was in general.

Without further ado, we stepped down and into the station. I let my swarm back out surreptitiously, dropping them in unnoticeable clumps out of view, and set them to spreading out. At the bottom of the stairs, in the station proper, I expected there to just be another normal subway station, just like the ones before it. Linoleum tiles or bricks of whatever pale stone had been used in its construction, maybe some steel beams riddled with rivets the size of chicken eggs.

What I found instead, however —

"What the hell?"

— was a forest of branches and thorns.

Mordred asked the question that was on the tip of everyone's tongues:

"What the fuck is this?"
— o.0.O.O.0.o —​
So this wound up quite a bit bigger than usual. To be fair, I had a lot to cover for this, and I still didn't cover everything I wanted to cover originally, but when I think about where I intended this chapter to end when I first started writing it, I think that it's maybe a good thing I didn't. The cliffhanger I originally meant to leave everyone on would have been hanging for an extra week, because next chapter is an interlude, and that might not have felt particularly good.

I could have kept going. But as is proven in two chapters, the text it would have taken to get there could fill an entire other chapter, and at that point, the question would be, "Why isn't this just two chapters?" And it would have meant delaying the original release of this chapter by several days more, so yes, at that point, "why not just split it into two chapters?"

Anyway. Lots of setup in this chapter. Foreshadowing for several things to come. I said not too long ago that we're in the latter third of London, and now, we're close to the home stretch. London's endgame approaches. That doesn't mean we're done dropping hints.
Next — Interlude RF: Once Upon a Dream
"Where are you, my sweet? Come, now. I'm waiting for you."
 
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Interlude RF: Once Upon a Dream
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And now that the shameless plugging is out of the way...

Interlude RF: Once Upon a Dream

Homunculus. The term used to denote an artificial human, made through the process of growing a complete individual from a single donor. They were not born. Rather, they were created, often fully formed, and in the rare instance where they began as an infant, their aging accelerated so that they were fully grown in a short time. Days, sometimes. Weeks, maybe. Usually, it was just hours. It was almost unheard of for a homunculus to develop at a rate commensurate with an ordinary human.

Despite the term used to refer to them, however, they were not much at all like humans. They came into being possessing all of the knowledge required for their existence, and yet had souls as pure as a newborn child, completely uncontaminated by the stain known as experience.

They did not age, and they were malleable enough to take on nearly any form required. Whatever role was necessary, they could fulfill, whether that was maid, tutor, caretaker, lover, or assistant. They were, after all, created with everything necessary to fulfill those roles, including superhuman strength or magic circuits more powerful than any naturally born magus. Yes — everything, except the will, the desire, and the concept of rebelling against it.

Naturally, for something that was considered so useful, there had to be drawbacks. As incredible a being as a homunculus was, its lifespan was often measured in the single digits. Even well-made and expertly sculpted homunculi did not often live to see more than two decades of life, and making it even that far was just shy of miraculous.

Some didn't live longer than two months.

This was all knowledge that Nicolas Flamel possessed, and was therefore part of the reason he had never crafted a homunculus before, considering it an act of cruelty to create something so short-lived and pitiful. Naturally, it was, as a result, also something which Renée knew, as well. Her creator had gifted her with all of the knowledge necessary for her existence, including the fact that it would be a short one.

A human being who was as old as she looked might have raged, might have snarled and shouted and screamed at the injustice of it. For Renée… No, likely for any other homunculus as well, it was simply fact, and she hadn't the anger or the sadness to complain.

She had been created as a blank slate, and her creator had poured his knowledge into her, filling her with all sorts of things that were not necessary to her existence. What need did a homunculus have to know the principles of alchemy when she herself would never use it? What reason was there for her to know and understand the philosophical underpinnings of human morality? What purpose was there to the fond memories of a kindly woman preparing a delicious meal?

None. Although she acted in such a way, she had not been created to be the apartment's maid. In the first place, it wasn't necessary. Doctor Jekyll was a perfectly acceptable cook. Nicolas Flamel needed neither food nor drink to sustain himself. There was nothing so desperately in need of cleaning that she should do any of the other housework either. In the end, the Chaldeans came, and even the things she did for the occupants of that apartment became superfluous.

And yet, she did them anyway. She performed these unnecessary tasks because her life was filled with unnecessary things.

It was the only thing she could think to do to show her gratitude for the life she had been given — even if it was so incredibly short.

And it became shorter every day. With every stride the Chaldeans made in unraveling the world Renée had come to know, her time came closer to ending. Every enemy vanquished became another nail in her coffin, another of the tethers binding her to this world severed. First, Paracelsus, the 'P' in the note left behind by Victor Frankenstein, and then, later on in the same day, Charles Babbage, the 'B' in that self-same note. Jack the Ripper was suborned and Robin Hood defeated outright. The magical tome was made into an ally less than a day after it appeared.

There was now only a single mastermind left. Presumably, after he was defeated, the world would be set to rights, and as an aberrant being never meant to exist in this time and this place — yes, she too would disappear, wouldn't she? As though it was nothing more than a passing dream, this existence of hers would vanish, leaving behind no record, but for whatever memories the Chaldeans took back with them.

Eventually, even those would fade, wouldn't they?

Were Renée a human being, she might have attempted to delay the inevitable. She might have poisoned the Chaldeans' food, just enough that they might be bedridden for a few days. She might have arranged an accident that would put one or more out of commission. Anything, everything which might forestall the end of her path.

She did none of those. Instead, when the day came for the Chaldeans to venture down into the Underground with her creator, she did as she had always done — always, for the scant few days she had even existed — and prepared them food for breakfast. She fed them, she watched them eat and enjoy it, and then she went an extra step and prepared snacks for them to take along with them a second time.

There was no point in getting angry. There was no point in raging against the circumstances. Yes — Renée had already known that her existence would be a short one and that her life was measured in days rather than months. Allowing herself to indulge in such things would only waste what time she did have.

She could only watch them leave and take what pleasure she could in the unnecessary tasks she completed every day.

After they were gone, she returned to the kitchen and continued the process of cleaning up after herself and the others. Pots and pans were washed to a spotless shine, plates scrubbed clean, silverware meticulously scoured for any remnants of the meal, all until any sign they had even been used was thoroughly and completely erased.

Like that, the time passed, and before she knew it, an hour had gone by. Setting aside the towel and other implements she used in the process, she went about arranging the kettle, filling it with water, and putting it on the stove to boil. While the water heated, she retrieved the tea leaves from where she had put them away and prepared the correct amount to accommodate the teapot.

When the water was ready and the kettle whistled, she took it from the stove and poured it over the tea leaves inside the teapot, then let it sit to steep for a few minutes. In the meantime, she procured a tray, a teacup, the sugar bowl, and a pitcher of cream.

She could have prepared the tea exactly the way he liked it, and she had done so before, but this time, she did not. Doctor Jekyll preferred to sweeten his tea on his own.

When everything was ready, she arranged it all on the tray, then lifted it by the handles and made her way out of the kitchen, through the dining room, through the parlor, then into the study, where Doctor Jekyll stood alone. He stood over the map that had been made by Nicolas Flamel, watching the progress of the others, even though he only saw them as dots moving about the streets. He was fiddling with the band of metal that now encircled his wrist, although he didn't seem to realize he was doing it.

For a moment, her own eyes roved over the map of their own accord, landing on a particular building it depicted and the pathway through the streets that connected it to the apartment, and then she put it out of her mind.

Mister Andersen must have taken up the office again, Renée thought, and filed it away. Mister Andersen did not seem to appreciate the life he had been given, even though it was just as temporary as hers. He cared little for eating meals or drinking tea, as though such things were alien and unnecessary to his existence.

She, who had so little experience and only the knowledge gifted to her, had no right to judge.

"Doctor Jekyll," Renée said, and he startled, so deep in thought was he that he hadn't heard her coming. "I've brought you tea."

His eyes trailed down to the tray she carried and the teapot that rested at its center. Little puffs of steam escaped the spout at the end, wafting up with an aroma that Renée believed could be called pleasant.

"Oh," said Doctor Jekyll, and he offered her a smile. "Yes, that would be wonderful, Renée. Your thoughtfulness is much appreciated."

"It was no trouble," she demurred.

She set the tray down on the nearby desk, careful not to disturb the vials and flasks that already sat there, and stepped back as Doctor Jekyll turned away from the map and came over to make himself a cup. As she always did, she took careful note of the process and the preferences displayed as he added a pair of sugar cubes and then a generous helping of cream, then poured in the steaming tea.

Even if it was knowledge she might only use for another day or two, or even only a few hours, she cataloged it all the same.

She wondered, had the woman in her borrowed memories been the same? Had Perenelle Flamel found some joy in tending to her husband's needs? Had it brought her happiness to see Nicolas smile at every meal?

No answer was forthcoming. Perenelle was not there to tell her, and Renée was not yet experienced enough to divine one for herself. She did not know the shape of happiness, nor whether Perenelle had ever been happy, and she did not quite know how to ask her creator. In the first place, he had already given her so much, and she didn't think she had any right to ask for more.

"Brewed to perfection, as always, Renée," said Doctor Jekyll. He took another sip of his tea. "Mm — I confess my jealousy. Would that it were I had the talent for cooking that you do, although perhaps it is for the better that I do not. I am certain there would be a much greater demand on my time were it so."

"I'm pleased you're enjoying it," Renée said politely. "Please excuse me. I will return later to retrieve the teapot and tray."

"Put it out of your mind, my dear," Doctor Jekyll told her. "Go — see to whatever it is that you must see to, and I shall return these things to their proper places once I have sated my appetite."

Renée gave him a short bow, but didn't acknowledge his words otherwise. She would return for the teapot and tray regardless, because it was a part of her role in the apartment, a part of what gave her life whatever paltry meaning it had. She could not allow herself to lose yet more of that, not after Emiya had come and taken the lunch away from her — and very nearly the evening meal, too.

Perhaps this was the thing known as pride. Renée wasn't sure, but she thought it might be.

On her way back through the house, Renée turned her head and glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece above the fireplace and blinked at the ticking hands.

"Oh," she said softly. It was that time again.

If she was human, she might have rushed to the kitchen in a hurry, but as she was not, not quite, she did not. She returned at her usual pace, and when she made it back to the kitchen, she procured a small bowl, then reached into the pantry and retrieved a wooden container from a special spot on the shelf. Emiya had been strictly forbidden from touching it, and she had threatened him with eviction if he laid so much as a single finger upon it.

Because of her creator's wishes, she had given in and allowed him to "assist" her with dinner and make lunch on his own, but even then, there was a limit to what she was willing to accept.

Inside the container was a mixture of dried meats and fruits. As an unfortunate consequence of the current circumstances, there wasn't any fish available and she couldn't go to the market to acquire some, so she'd had to make do with what could be spared from the pantry and the icebox.

Using a spoon, she scooped up some of the mixture and placed it in the bowl, and then she got out another bowl and filled it with water. The container of dried meat went back on its proper shelf, and then she picked up both bowls and made her way back through the house to the front door. As quietly as she could, she eased the door open and stepped out into the open air.

A chill clung to the city, even without the fog there to deliver it, and when she looked up into the sky, heavy clouds blocked out almost all of the light. The fog that had lifted now sat above them, choking the city in an entirely different way, and it cast a pall over the empty streets.

Renée had never seen the sun before, and she was certain she never would. She wondered, was that supposed to make her sad? Was she supposed to be angry for the missed opportunity? She wasn't sure. How could she miss something that she had never witnessed before and never would? The idea seemed ludicrous.

But…maybe it might have been nice to experience it, just the once. To know, before she disappeared, what it was like to feel the sunlight upon her cheeks and know if it was as warm as she imagined it would be.

A questioning noise interrupted her before she could think any deeper on the subject, and when she looked down and over to the right, a curious cat looked back at her, head tilted. Its striped orange fur stood out as a splash of color against the gray streets and the drab houses that surrounded them, bright even in the gloom.

What meaning there was behind its mannerisms and vocalizations, she didn't know, because it wasn't something that her creator had shared with her. She'd heard, however, that there were people who could speak to animals and communicate with them as easily as though they were humans. What was that like?

Of course, she would never know. If Nicolas Flamel possessed the knowledge of how to bestow such an ability on her, he had not done so.

"Hello, Pierre," she greeted the tomcat. She walked down the steps and knelt down so that she could place both of the bowls she carried next to the bottom stair, then took just a single step back.

The cat took a cautious step towards her, then lifted his head and sniffed the air. His green eyes zeroed in on the dried meats and fruits, knowing, as he must have, exactly what they were, and after taking another tentative sniff to confirm it, he raced over and buried his snout in the bowl. His tail stayed raised, swaying gently back and forth.

The cat she had named Pierre ate ferociously, gulping down large mouthfuls of his meal. Any reticence he'd had before was entirely gone.

"It seems you were hungry this morning," Renée commented. She held her skirt against the backs of her knees and sat down on the stairs, watching, observing. Pierre didn't seem to notice her at all, but for the slight pause when she moved, and otherwise disregarded her presence entirely.

Another unnecessary thing. There was no need for her to feed this cat every morning, nor was there any such need for her to conceal the act from the other occupants of the apartment. From what she understood of things, everything in London would be restored to its proper place once the last mastermind was vanquished and the Holy Grail was retrieved, not just her and her creator. The same force that would see her erased would undo any good she did for this stray cat. Whatever fate awaited him in the proper course of history would not be changed in the slightest by her actions now.

Why, then, did she bother feeding him? Renée…didn't have an answer for that. She didn't know how to explain it. She didn't have the words. She didn't even know where the impulse came from or why. This was not the gratitude she was showing her creator for giving her so much, and yet it was still so vitally important that she could not have brought herself to stop.

What was it about this creature that compelled her to aid him? None of the data that had been given to her on morality and ethics felt like it properly explained anything, and yet she could not find another reason inside of her.

Was she…defective?

The thought stuck in her belly like grease on a pan, refusing to be dislodged. Was the fact that she could even feel that way another sign of her flawed nature? Nicolas Flamel was a genius of unparalleled talent for his era, but there was a limit to the miracles even he could perform. Had something gone wrong in the process? Or had her exposure to the fog — miniscule as it had always been — done some irreparable damage to her functioning?

Once again, she didn't have an answer. The very idea that she might be compromised, that she could fail at the only things that gave her purpose, sat like a block of ice in her chest, cold and numbing and spreading slowly out to her limbs.

She was saved from those troubling thoughts when Arash appeared suddenly beside her as though he had been there all along, so subtly and so silently that Pierre didn't even seem to notice. It was only his presence, the metaphysical weight he carried that radiated off of him like heat from the stove, that told her he was there.

"Hungry this morning, isn't he?" Arash said conversationally. When Renée turned to look, an easygoing smile stretched his lips.

"Yes, it seems so," she replied.

"I guess, with all of the markets shut down and the food in them long since spoiled, he doesn't have much choice about where and what he eats," Arash went on. He crouched down, elbows on his knees, and hunched over to watch Pierre. "I'm a bit surprised that he's the only stray that comes over here every day, but…with the fog, he might be the only one who was clever enough to escape indoors when it rolled around."

"Perhaps," said Renée.

In truth, she had not considered that. In that case, he might be all alone. All of his family, all of the other strays, his offspring, if he had any, they might all have died while he survived. Renée might be the only kind face he ever saw, day in and day out, and the scraps of food she could spare might be the only food he ate.

That was…

"Well," said Arash, "I can't say my Master would be thrilled to find out some of our food supplies are being used for something like this, but I don't think she would stop you either, no matter what she says about it." He grinned at her over his shoulder. "She's a bit dishonest like that. She might seem blunt and stoic, but there's a lot under the surface that most people never realize is even there."

Finished with his food, Pierre turned next to the bowl of water and started lapping it up with his tongue, downing what he could as though he had not had a drink since the night before when she fed him last.

"…Should I tell her, then?"

Arash shook his head. "Not yet. As long as it's not critical, there's no need for anyone else to know, so it can just be our little secret. That work for you?"

Something in Renée's chest eased.

"Yes."

When he was done drinking, Pierre licked his lips and looked up. Green eyes turned and regarded Arash warily, and Arash held out a hand, palm up and fingers loose. Pierre approached with caution, taking one halting, hesitant step at a time, and when he was close enough, stuck his head out to sniff at Arash's palm.

After a moment, he must have recognized Arash, because he leaned forward, and Arash took that as a sign of permission, reaching out with his fingers to scratch behind Pierre's ears. It wasn't long before Pierre was purring, a soft rumbling sound that echoed in his chest and throat, and Renée took more mental notes.

Arash only indulged Pierre for a minute or two, and then pulled his hand away and stood, ignoring Pierre's curious look. To Renée, he said, "I think that's a long enough break for me. The fog will be coming back in about an hour from now, so Tohsaka and Alice are on their way back while the others keep looking. Once they're here, I'll be heading out myself to catch up with my comrades, so you and Doctor Jekyll will be in Tohsaka and Alice's hands."

"I understand," Renée replied.

With a smile and a jaunty wave, Arash disappeared again, returning to his perch on the roof. Renée's gaze lingered where he'd been for a moment longer, and then she turned back to Pierre, who had watched without an apparent care. She did not think that was necessarily normal behavior for a cat, but animals were supposed to have superhuman senses, so perhaps, to him, Arash's disappearance was not a matter of any concern.

Cautiously, tentatively, Renée leaned over until her body pressed up against the railing and held out her hand, palm up, exactly the way she had seen Arash do. Pierre's eyes turned and traveled from her face down her shoulder and the entire length of her arm, and for a moment, he simply stayed where he was, his tail swaying slowly and lazily back and forth behind him. Then, however, he stepped forward, and instead of sniffing her palm, he ducked his head under her knuckles and nuzzled the back of her hand. His head rubbed back and forth, as though there was some substance just behind his ears that he was trying to smear all over her skin.

For a few seconds, Renée froze, having expected Pierre to regard her with the exact same caution as Arash, but after the surprise faded, she twisted her hand around and did as Arash had. She gently dug her nails into the thick, orange fur until she felt the surface of his skin, and then she started scratching. She did not know exactly how much force to use, and so she took extra care to avoid pressing too hard and hurting Pierre.

As he had with Arash, Pierre began purring. The sound of it was soft and low, but the vibrations traveled up her fingers and palm, and there was something about it that was somehow soothing. Was this why humans took animals in as pets? Did this inexplicable feeling provide some kind of benefit to a person? Renée could not say for sure, and yet she thought it must be so, because whatever this feeling was, it was pleasant.

It was not until many minutes later that she realized she was smiling.

Pierre was not entirely idle as she scratched. He moved his head to and fro, presenting different areas to her fingers, and she obliged him. He seemed particularly pleased to have his chin attended to, although the hollows she could feel through the skin at the base of his ears appeared to be his favorite spots, and she paid special attention to them.

Renée must have spent another half an hour there with Pierre, enjoying giving him attention as much as he enjoyed receiving it. She could not simply sit outside on the stairs and pet a cat all day, however, no matter how pleasurable it was to simply run her fingers through his thick fur, and so she reluctantly pulled her hand away. The smile on her lips faded.

Pierre made an inquisitive sound in his throat, looking up at her.

"I'm sorry, Pierre. I simply cannot spend more time with you, right now. There are things I must do."

Pierre backed away as she stood and retrieved the pair of bowls, one now completely empty but smeared with dried saliva and the other only half as full as it had been before. She turned back to the apartment and took the stairs up to the door, and when she looked back, she almost expected Pierre to be there at her heels, trying to follow her inside.

The feeling inside of her when he did not could only be disappointment. Sour and unpleasant, but not nearly as much so as that moment when her creator had insisted she share the burden of cooking the meals with Emiya.

"Dinner will be at five o'clock, Pierre," she told him. "Do not be late. Miss Taylor cannot see you, do you understand?"

"Mmrow!" Pierre replied as though he truly did, and then he turned away and trotted off back down the street. It wasn't long before any trace of him was gone, disappearing down the nearest alleyway. Where he spent his days when he was not with her, she didn't know. Perhaps he was not nearly so lonely as she had assumed. Perhaps he enjoyed his solitude, and it was only her presence — and Arash's — that he craved at all.

Inside the apartment, she returned to the kitchen, sparing only a single glance along the way to see that Doctor Jekyll had returned to the map, nursing his cup of tea. The bowls she carried were swiftly washed and dried and put away, and immediately, because the time was fast approaching, she began to prepare lunch.

Excitement squirmed in her belly the entire time. There was no Emiya there to take it from her. He was still out, seeing to his proper place: the battlefield. There was no one to shunt her off to the side and take over what was hers.

By the time she was finishing up lunch — she had made it far more extravagant than perhaps she should have, all things considered — the front door to the apartment had opened and Tohsaka and Alice had returned. She left the kitchen and went to the parlor to greet him, where he and his Servant had only just made it inside.

"Mister Tohsaka," she called to him politely, "lunch has already been prepared."

He blinked at her, brow furrowing, and glanced behind him. What or who he might have been expecting there, Renée could not have said, because the only one with him was Alice.

"I suppose I could eat," he said at length.

"Naughty Papa," Alice giggled behind one of her sleeves. "It's not nice to eat without the others, you know!"

"It's already been made," Tohsaka reasoned. "No sense letting it go to waste, is there?"

"I shall prepare a place for you at the table," Renée told him. "Please retrieve Doctor Jekyll and inform him that lunch is about to be served."

"No need," Doctor Jekyll's voice came from the study, and a moment later, he stepped into the parlor. "I was myself about to confer with Mister Tohsaka on what he and our comrades might have found during the course of their investigation — or, as it appears, what they might not have found."

Tohsaka grimaced. "There's not much to say, unfortunately. Wherever this M person is hiding, we didn't find him."

"That truly is unfortunate," Doctor Jekyll said. "I assume, in that case, that the others must have continued on without you…"

Renée left them to discuss the investigation as she returned to the kitchen. The French onion soup she had prepared — a recipe she had originally intended for Nicolas Flamel to sample first — was arranged and divvied up, and she placed the cups upon saucers, to catch any spillage that might flow over.

By the time she had loaded everything up on another tray and brought it out into the dining room, Doctor Jekyll, Mister Tohsaka, and Miss Alice had all found themselves seats at the table, still talking. The instant they saw her, however, they broke off, and Doctor Jekyll favored her with a smile.

"Unless my nose is deceiving me, I do believe I smell onion soup!"

"It is."

She gave him his first.

"Thank you, Renée," he said. "I'm certain it will be delicious."

"It was my intention that Master Flamel would be the first to sample this dish," she told him. "However, since he has yet to return, it seems that it will fall to you, Doctor Jekyll, Mister Tohsaka, Miss Alice. Please, enjoy."

"I'm sure your father would be more than happy to hear you planned on making this just for him," Tohsaka said, and halfway through setting his own saucer and cup down in front of him, she stilled as something inside of her trembled.

"Renée?" Doctor Jekyll asked, worried. It was enough to break through to her, and as though nothing was wrong, Renée finished the motion, and then turned to set Miss Alice's meal in front of her.

"Yes," she heard herself say, "I'm certain he would be."

Once everything had been set out and they were already to begin eating, Renée dipped her head into a short bow and said, "Please excuse me."

She didn't wait to hear what they might have said. She returned to the kitchen immediately, and it was only her precise and careful nature that allowed her to set the tray back down gently, that let her keep the tremor shaking her insides from traveling out to her hands and arms.

Father. The word echoed inside of her, bouncing around her head and heart like a rubber ball. Her father would have been happy to hear that she planned on cooking a French meal solely for his sake.

She looked down at her hands, at the pale, white skin that covered her, unblemished and perfect. No scars, no flaws, and too pale by far to have come from either Nicolas himself or from his wife, Perenelle. If she were to look in the mirror, she would find red eyes and silvery hair, neither of them a match for the darker hair and blue eyes of a much younger Nicolas and Perenelle. In no way did she resemble either of them.

And yet…

Father. It sent another tremor through her. He had never used that term to describe his relationship with her and neither had she, but as her creator, was that not what he was? The process of creating a homunculus like her was not the same as the process behind normal human conception and procreation, but it was not altogether dissimilar either. From a sample of his own genetic material, he had sculpted her form, and he had filled her head with so much of his own knowledge.

Was he not her father, then?

"Renée Flamel," she whispered, tasting the words on her tongue.

Inside of her, her heart thudded against her ribs. Something warm that she did not have the words or the experience to describe spread throughout her belly. She thought it might have been happiness.

"Renée Flamel," she said again.

Was it…truly okay? Or was it too presumptuous of her to assume the name of her creator? Was it really, truly appropriate to consider herself his daughter and he her father? Or…

She pressed one hand against her chest and felt her beating heart.

…was she just a useful tool for —

The crack of splintering wood and the crash of shattering glass ripped her from her thoughts, the commotion so thunderous and violent that the very floor beneath her feet trembled. Shouts of alarm from the dining room answered it, Doctor Jekyll's and Mister Tohsaka's, and the sound of their footsteps was almost drowned out by the slow, heavy thud of something absolutely massive plodding along the floor.

"Sweet, little doll," Nicolas Flamel's voice lilted, "won't you please come and see me?"

Renée froze. It…couldn't be. He was with the Chaldeans…wasn't he?

Miss Alice's voice called out a reply, but Renée couldn't make out the words over the thudding of her pulse in her ears. Even as something equally as large and equally as weighty charged out of the dining room, her body began to move on its own, turning away from the countertop and walking steadily out of the kitchen and into the dining room.

The meaty sound of two bodies colliding and smacking together echoed, and Renée jolted, nearly twisting her ankle from how quickly she came to an awkward stop. As though a fog had cleared from her mind, she blinked, and there, standing in the tea room and facing the parlor, Mister Tohsaka and Doctor Jekyll stood, Miss Alice in front of them with a delighted smile on her face.

"Go on, Jabberwocky!" she said brightly. "Time to play!"

The whole house seemed to rumble, and it took Renée a second to realize it was laughter.

"Where are you, my sweet?" her father called. "Come, now. I'm waiting for you."

Once more, Renée could not stop herself, and her legs carried her through the dining room and into the tea room. Mister Tohsaka and the others didn't even seem to realize she was there until she turned the corner and began walking towards the parlor, where —

That…was not Nicolas Flamel.

The spell was broken the instant Renée laid eyes upon it properly, a gargantuan creature easily twice her size and five times her weight. Thick, beastly legs held aloft a massive torso rippling with muscle, and enormous arms hung down to its knees, so long they touched the floor as it hunched over, too tall to stand straight. They ended in hands the size of dinner plates with long, thick fingers, tipped with sharp, black claws. Triangular ears twitched atop a gigantic head, swiveling this way and that and large enough that they must have been able to hear a pin drop halfway across the city.

A second creature slammed into the first, a bulky thing nearly as big with skin like leather, dyed a shade of vibrant, purple-ish red, and jagged wings jutting out of its back. It punched the first monster with enough power to shake the floorboards, but despite how much strength had to be behind each blow, the first monster remained unfazed.

The huge snout opened, revealing two rows of razor sharp teeth, each longer than Renée's fingers, and a glob of drool dripped down over its black lips. A rumbling laugh barked out of its throat, shaking the thick, dark gray fur that covered it from head to toe. It lifted its arms and dug its claws deep into the flesh of the second monster, holding what must have been Alice's Jabberwocky as though it was nothing more than a child slapping impotently at its chest.

"Come to me, my sweet," it crooned in Nicolas Flamel's voice. "Don't you love me? Don't you love…"

Slowly, the head turned, and one large, round eye found her, pinning her in place beneath its glowing, yellow gaze. The black lips pulled into a broad grin.

"…your father?"

Renée took one step back, like a jerk reflex. The compulsion to continue forward and into the monster's arms snaked around her mind, constricting, overpowering, but her eyes did not lie to her, and the simple knowledge that what stood in the parlor had never and could never have been Nicolas Flamel freed her before the hypnosis could take hold.

Instead of being angry, the monster laughed again, a deep, rumbling sound that squeezed Renée's heart in her chest.

"So be it," the monster said, and it did not bother to disguise itself this time. The voice that tumbled out of its mouth was dark and deep and terrible, a thing of malice and violence that taught Renée true and visceral fear for the first time in her short life. "If you will not take the final step yourself, then I shall simply have to snap you up with my own two hands."

The enormous arms flexed, muscles bulging, and with a horrifying wet sound akin to the crackling pop of burning firewood, the Jabberwocky was torn in two. Purple blood gushed from either half, splattering all about the furniture and the walls and the ceiling until the entire room was painted in it. The monster dropped the separate halves of the Jabberwocky onto the floor, letting them fall contemptuously where they may, and as its enormous head turned to regard Renée with both eyes, it began to stalk towards her. Every footfall was like thunder, shaking the entire house. Its grin promised a violent and horrific death.

Listen to me, Renée, the memory of Nicolas Flamel's voice echoed in her ears. This is the only direct command I will ever give you: no matter what, your safety is paramount. Whatever troubles might come our way, no matter how grim the outlook, you must prioritize your own life. Even over mine.

I understand
, she replied to the words said many days ago. She was his greatest work. She was not allowed to die.

She took another step back and began to turn —

And the monster, sensing her retreat, suddenly lurched forward, arms outstretched to snatch her right up off of her feet. Doctor Jekyll shouted something in alarm, and so did Tohsaka, but Alice was silent and unperturbed.

The black claws fell short, coming close enough to tear a line through her blouse, but otherwise missing her. Behind the monster, the Jabberwocky's halves had reached out and taken hold of its legs, and even as she watched, the two halves were slowly sliding back towards each other, tendrils of purple blood reaching across the gap and forming bridges. It was literally pulling itself back together.

Renée, knowing that she only had moments before the monster ripped itself free, turned away and fled. Behind her, Tohsaka called out, "Alice! Stop messing around and kill it already!"

"We're trying, Papa!" Alice replied, and for the first time since they had started staying in the apartment, there was something like concern in her voice.

Renée did not wait. She rushed through the dining room and towards the kitchen, and from there, to the back door that led out behind the building. It seemed almost to fly open on its own when her hand fell upon the doorknob, and a moment later, she was outside, where a thick fog waited for her, suffocating and poisonous.

But she was a homunculus made by Nicolas Flamel. It was the effort of a second's concentration to pull in the magical energy inside the fog and circulate it through her own magic circuits, using basic alchemy to purify it and creating a zone around her that was clean and safe for her to breathe in.

In her head, the memory of the map bloomed, and she rushed out into the street, looking back and forth as she oriented herself. The apartment was no longer safe. Whatever monster had been unleashed was not something which would be dealt with quickly or easily, and worse, it was after her. She needed to remove herself from the situation and get to safety, and if, in the morning, this world persisted and had not yet been fixed, then she could use the band around her wrist to contact the Chaldeans for further assistance.

Right now, the most important thing was that she couldn't die. She wasn't allowed to. If she wanted to ensure that remained the case, then the only place she could go was the safe house, Nicolas Flamel's contingency for the case that everything went wrong. He had made her memorize the route, and so it was now only a matter of —

"Stay where you are, my dear," a voice commanded, and Renée froze. Had the monster moved on? Had it killed Mister Tohsaka, Miss Alice, and Doctor Jekyll that quickly and followed her?

What appeared out of the mist, however, was not the hulking beast that had smashed in through the apartment's front wall, but instead something much smaller. It began as a silhouette, a shadow against the fog, maybe half her height and a quarter her size. Something metallic jangled as it stepped closer, and slowly, it resolved into something solid and concrete. Green eyes peered out at her from underneath the broad brim of a hat —

"Pierre?"

It was an orange-furred cat, the same one she had seen just a few hours ago, dressed in the finery of a medieval aristocrat. A pair of thick, leather boots covered the entirety of its hindlegs, done up with brassy buckles that jingled with every step, and it walked upright like a man.

"Yes, that is the name by which you knew me, Mademoiselle," said Pierre, "but I am afraid it is not the one for which I am best known. If it pleases you, you may call me Puss in Boots, or the Master Cat. Truthfully, it matters little to me."

"You're…"

It should have been more incredible. It should have. Logically, she knew that cats couldn't speak, that they didn't wear clothes, and that they most certainly didn't wear such large, cumbersome boots, and yet the order of the world very clearly told her that this was the proper way of things. There was nothing unusual about a talking cat, as long as it was this particular talking cat.

"I'm afraid I need you to come with me, Mademoiselle," said the cat. Puss, she corrected herself, not Pierre.

Renée took a step back. If she took off running, then maybe she could —

"This does not need to end in bloodshed," the cat told her suddenly, "but my master is not particular about your condition." He held out a single one of his paws, and long, sharp claws glinted in the mist as they sprang suddenly out of his flesh, long and sharp enough that Renée was certain they could carve her open with ease. "Whether I bring you or your corpse does not matter to him."

For an instant, Renée considered simply overloading her magic circuits and letting the magical energy in the air rampage and ignite inside of her body. The resulting cascade would kill her for certain, but it might be enough to kill Puss, too.

But it was not a guarantee, and the very last thing she should do was hand over her father's work so freely. Destroying herself was not a viable option unless she knew that it would destroy whatever part of her they were looking to use.

And also —

Prioritize your own life.

— she would be disobeying her father's only direct command.

As though sensing her decision, Puss smiled. "Good girl. Come along, Mademoiselle. We should not keep my master waiting."

He stepped to the side, gesturing off into the fog with his paw, a mockery of a gentleman. Renée did not miss the glint of his claws, a subtle threat and promise of what would befall her if she attempted anything which he did not approve.

There was no other option, none that would not cause her father even more distress, and so Renée walked, allowing herself to be led away.
— o.0.O.O.0.o —​
How many of you will catch it, I wonder? It's too early to release their Hereafter Material entries because those contain spoilers, so it's entirely down to your own wits and how closely you're reading the chapter to realize some of what's happening in here, but I do wonder if the hints were too subtle.

This is another pretty big one, folks. Man, I love how it turned out. All of the twists and turns this one took. I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I did.

As a certain someone once said, we're in the endgame now.
Next — Chapter CLII: A Thorny Path
"Are we…not alone down here?"
 
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Chapter CLII: A Thorny Path
This story and this chapter brought to you by my wonderful supporters, whose kindness and generosity have made it possible to devote so much of my time and attention to writing, especially Eric, s22132, AbyssalApsu, Mark, Peter Parker, and Alias 2v10. You guys are absolute legends. To show my gratitude, they had the chance to read this and upcoming chapters before the public release. You can find out more HERE.

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And now that the shameless plugging is out of the way...

Chapter CLII: A Thorny Path

The station should have looked much the same as all of the others, different maybe in degrees or in the exact aesthetics, but largely the same in structure. Stairs leading up and out onto the streets above, a platform for people to stand and wait on for their train to arrive, and a track that passed through, disappearing down tunnels that led in opposite directions.

Those features weren't entirely gone, but they had been taken over. The linoleum tiles had cracked and broken, pushed out of the way. Wooden paneling lay, splintered and shattered, where it had been pried away from its mounting. The exterior walls themselves were crumbling and unstable, as though there was only one thing holding them in place and it wasn't brick or mortar.

What had caused all of this damage wasn't some sort of fight that might have taken place down here, and it wasn't because something that was simply too big had squeezed its way through or because something with too much weight or strength had carelessly stampeded through. No, the source was instead a thick forest of branches, a winding, twisting grove of gnarled brown wood and long, wickedly sharp thorns. They punched clean through every surface, sprouting from stone and brick and wood alike, curling out and around the edges of the tunnel with a deceptively affectionate embrace. Each was at least as thick around as my arm and often thicker, undulating, curving, and twining together as though they had been woven that way by some sort of forest god.

I'd heard of this sort of thing before, about how powerful nature was, that tree roots could grow so insistently and so ponderously that they could punch through brick walls and bore through cement, given enough time. Buildings could be compromised by stuff like that, with load-bearing walls cracking and breaking as the roots of a nearby tree worked their way through.

But this? This would have been dozens, hundreds of trees, such was the number of branches. There were so many that the tunnel was more bramble and branch than stone, with only a narrow pathway on the floor clear enough to permit passage. Even then, the thorns were so large and so sharp that a single moment of carelessness could see one carving through you, and if you fell on one, you might be lucky to walk away at all, let alone without suffering some major, debilitating wound. They were like knives, jutting out several inches and ending in a tip so thin I wouldn't have been surprised if they could even get through armor.

All of a sudden, I wanted the rest of my costume. Those points were thin enough that they might manage to make it through even the tightly knitted weave of my spider silk bodysuit, but it would be better protection than our current mystic codes were.

"Branches?" Ritsuka murmured incredulously.

"What the hell?" said Rika. "What kind of fairy tale bullshit is this?"

A very good question. We hadn't ever ruled out the possibility of Charles Perrault having been summoned, except that the masterminds were P, B, and M, and we had already met and defeated both P and B: Paracelsus von Hohenheim and Charles Babbage. The only one left should be M.

Of course, they'd also had Robin Hood on their side, if only for a short while, and Mephistopheles. There was nothing to say they couldn't have other subordinate Servants hanging around, but that ran into the question of how they could support so many Servants and power their Angrboða machine at the same time with a single Holy Grail. The Grails had a lot of power, but they also still had limits.

"Romulus…did something like this, too, didn't he?" Mash pointed out.

It was a good counterpoint. Rika's comment had made me jump straight to Perrault, but simply because Perrault seemed the most obvious didn't mean it was automatically him. It didn't even need to be a Caster of any kind, not when Romulus had a Noble Phantasm that made a whole tree grow from nothing. It was just more likely to be a Caster than not.

"Uhn." Fran stepped forward and reached out with one hand, as though to touch one of the enormous thorns.

My own hand snapped out and grabbed her wrist before she could even dare.

"Don't," I warned her firmly. "It's definitely possible that the thorns will curse you if you prick your finger on them, and they might even be cursed to make you more likely to prick your finger, too. Don't chance it."

Chastened, Fran pulled her hand back towards her body and eyed the thorns with a new — and very healthy, if you asked me — dose of suspicion.

"Oh no," Rika moaned. She pressed her hands to her cheeks like she was trying to hide behind them. "Please, please, please don't tell me the Servant behind this is Walt Disney! My childhood won't be able to survive it!"

That was another possibility. But, "I doubt it."

Rika let out a groan of relief.

"We should be careful anyway, right, Senpai?" said Ritsuka. "We're… Are we still going to investigate this tunnel?"

He looked down the crowded tunnel, made tighter and less accommodating by the brambles and thorns that twisted and twined across almost every available surface, and cast a doubtful gaze on the treacherous path that led through them. Yeah, I wasn't really jumping for joy at the thought of that either.

Unfortunately, there was just one problem.

"Right now, this is the only lead we have. None of the other lines had anything like this in the tunnels."

And that made this particular tunnel all the more suspicious. After all, what purpose was there in having this mess of branches with thorns long and sharp enough to skewer a lion if you weren't protecting the location of your main base? Especially when the other lines hadn't had anything other than a token patrol force.

It wasn't impossible that this was a red herring. But it would have required so much time and effort that I had a hard time imagining someone would waste it all on a show piece meant only as a distraction.

"I knew she was going to say that!" Rika lamented. She jabbed a finger at me sourly. "Listen, Senpai! I'm never gonna forgive you if this turns out to be some plot by Walt Disney, I really won't!"

I really didn't think it was going to be Walt Disney — Perrault was just way more likely — but now that she'd been so insistent on it, a niggling doubt was festering.

Fuck. Could it be Disney?

"The fuck is Walt Disney?" Jeanne Alter asked.

Rika whirled about towards her, horrified. "Oh my god," she whispered, "we never showed you…! When we get back, we have to have a movie marathon! The entire Disney Renaissance, back to back to back!"

Mordred snorted.

"You know, Master, now I'm not sure I want to," Jeanne Alter said sardonically.

Rika gave a theatrical gasp. "Don't say that!"

"Enough goofing off," I said, and the mood sobered almost immediately. "We don't have too much longer before the fog starts to roll back in, and if it really does make it down here, it's going to be all that much harder to see what we're doing and where we're going. We need to get as far as we can before then."

Jeanne Alter eyed the nearest twisting weave of branches. "Sure you don't want me to just burn it all down? Would solve our problems there pretty quick, don't you think?"

Some of them, but not all of them.

"Not without choking us all in smoke and reducing our visibility even more. We also don't want M and his cronies finding out we're coming when their defenses are burned down right in front of them."

"Tch." Jeanne Alter scoffed. "Yeah, whatever. Let's just get going then."

It took a lot of care to maneuver around the brambles and branches, doing our best to avoid the reach of the thorns, and that extra caution made us slower than we had yet been the entire day. Every footstep had to be measured and observed to ensure the floor was clear enough to walk upon, every inch forward meticulous and purposeful. It was not enough to simply watch for the presence of an enemy waiting up ahead or far behind, we had to make absolutely sure that no one misstepped or tripped, that no one fell and hurt themselves on the wicked thorns.

Just getting across the platform and down onto the tracks was a challenge. With at least half of the lamps destroyed by the encroaching foliage, most of the light we had came from our flashlights, and those were focused beams. They did not and could not light up a whole room, just because they weren't designed like that.

Once we did manage to safely climb down onto the tracks, it meant that we had to walk in a narrower column, too. The very center of the railway seemed clearer than the rest of it, thankfully, but that wasn't the same thing as being completely clear and it didn't mean that the rest of the railway was anywhere near as clear.

Morbid curiosity had driven me to look up some of those "life after people" videos — it had seemed relevant back when I was fighting an apocalypse whose shape and scope I knew nothing about — and this…didn't quite look like that. Not enough greenery down here, not enough fauna making it home, and not enough water built up in the deeper parts. But it looked fairly close.

Eventually, after far more time and effort than I would have liked, we managed to start down the tunnel heading east, following along towards where the Ley Line Terminal would be at its strongest, closer to the center. Flamel, near the back of the line, chose to reach out and lay a hand upon one of the branches before I could do anything to stop him, and I turned abruptly.

"Caster?"

The rest of the group stopped with me. Flamel didn't answer for a few seconds, and then pulled his hand away.

"Merely investigating the structure of these branches," he explained shortly. "I imagine you needn't have me tell you, but they're not natural constructs. Whoever created these forged them out of magical energy, not unlike, I imagine, how Charles Babbage created his Helter Skelter."

"You saying they're not real, Gramps?" Mordred asked.

"Essentially, yes," he replied. "They are, to be more specific, not natural fauna whose growth has been controlled and accelerated through alchemy, nor any kind of magical plant I have ever had the pleasure of examining. They are more akin to projections. They have the same consistency, texture, and structure as natural vines, but they are made entirely of ether. Were you to chop them up or otherwise disrupt their structure, the disconnected components would eventually disappear."

So one way or another, they were the creation of someone's Noble Phantasm. I didn't think, however, that his comparison was quite right. The Helter Skelter had been built using Babbage's Noble Phantasm, not summoned into existence by it. If this was at all what I thought it was belonging to who I thought it belonged to, then it would be more like the Jabberwocky, wouldn't it?

In that case, could we even do appreciable damage to it at all? Or would it just regenerate, even if we hacked it to bits?

Jeanne Alter's mouth pulled into a grin. "Does that mean it's safe to burn it all up after all?"

"No," I said firmly before Flamel could give an answer. "We don't know that it can't just repair itself, so all you might wind up doing is wasting time and energy and filling up the tunnel with smoke."

Jeanne Alter's expression could only be called a pout.

"Guess chopping it up won't do any good either," Mordred commented, eyeing a particularly thorny branch. "Damn. Fucking sucks. Couldn't have made things easier on us, huh?"

"Given the amount of magical energy that must have gone into their manifestation, I believe it would be a good bet to say that these branches are indeed self-repairing," said Flamel. "Anything which we might attempt to do to them will be reversed in short order."

Emiya huffed a short chuckle. "I suppose that's to be expected, isn't it?"

"Can M and his allies sense our location through them?" I asked what I felt was the most important question.

Flamel frowned. "It is difficult to say. It is not impossible, but on the whole, I find it somewhat less likely. I can say, at the very least, that they do not drain magical energy from any who come into contact with them, nor do they seem to be cursed."

I guess that was the best I was going to get.

"All the more reason to avoid them as best we can."

Because even if they weren't any more dangerous than what they looked like, getting stabbed through by one of those thorns still wouldn't be pleasant. For anyone.

Flamel inclined his head. "As you say."

We continued on, trudging down the tunnel and doing our best to keep every part of our bodies as far away from the thorns as possible. It didn't get any easier as we went, but fortunately, it also didn't really get any harder. Where the branches poked up through the floor seemed entirely random, but beyond that, they didn't get denser and harder to avoid the further we went.

That had its own downsides, of course, because that meant that we didn't really have any indicators to tell us that there might have been a secret base hidden behind that particular gnarl of branches or that this one was guarding a hole in the wall. With the branches themselves causing so much damage bursting through the tunnel's structure, we couldn't even use the damage as a clue for where the secret lair might be, because it was just spread out that much.

That might have been half the point. Double up not only protecting your hidden base, but also disguising the entrance in a way that was difficult to distinguish from the rest of the tunnel.

Even my bugs were having trouble. They could circle the branches just fine without any issue, but when I had some try to squeeze into the break in the walls and follow the branches back to their source, they ran into something that stopped them. Not a physical thing, like concrete or bedrock or whatever the tunnel might have been dug through, but a kind of invisible barrier that blocked their way.

"There's something else," I announced.

I got glances and looks from just about everyone, but since I didn't stop walking, no one else did either.

"Senpai?" Ritsuka asked curiously.

"Are we…not alone down here?" Rika asked next in a hushed fake whisper.

I was a little annoyed, doubly so when I realized that you could technically say there were a bunch of ghosts with us.

"Wherever these branches come from, they're forming some kind of bounded field or barrier," I answered. "I can't get any bugs past them and into the walls to follow them back to their source."

Flamel hummed. "If there is a bounded field, it is not directly affecting the tunnel itself, although… Perhaps it is an effect of the vines themselves? Whatever Noble Phantasm constructed them might perhaps have imbued them with some sort of effect to ward off intruders."

He was probably right about that. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more that started to make sense, because hadn't there been something in one of Perrault's fairy tales about something very similar?

"Where's Lord Hashirama when you need him?" Rika muttered. Her brother rolled his eyes.

"It may also be that the vines themselves form the boundary for a bounded field that isolates the tunnel itself from other points of connection," Flamel went on. "That is to say, it may be that we could search this tunnel for a century and never find M's secret lair because the bounded field formed by the vines disconnects the entrance from the tunnel itself until the moment M needs to enter or leave."

"So we could be wasting our time down here looking for something we'll never find," Mordred clarified.

"Yes," was Flamel's blunt answer.

That…was actually a much less comfortable possibility, and yet one that I had to admit was very much plausible. If M really was Moriarty, then I didn't see how he could manage a bit of magecraft quite so high level or intricate, but not only was that another way for the forest from The Sleeping Beauty in the Wood to be interpreted, if M was some other kind of Caster who really could perform what Frankenstein had called "spells beyond human wisdom," then he could specialize in anything at all, including such a powerful and intricate bounded field.

In fact, an expert at botanical magecraft — much as I struggled to think of any that would qualify as a Heroic Spirit, outside of a druid — would mean there was no need to think Perrault was present at all, and in some ways, that was scarier. It was one thing when we were looking at the effects of a Noble Phantasm that might have to play by the rules of the fairy tale it came from, another when it was all a series of carefully crafted spells that didn't have any such rules dictating their limits.

"Let's hope you're wrong," I said. I was talking as much about his theory as I was mine.

"Ah, yes, of course, it would be better if I was," he said, backtracking. "I was merely hypothesizing, and that was one of the possibilities that I thought provided a plausible answer for our current predicament."

"So what I'm hearing is that we should burn this shit down," said Jeanne Alter.

Flamel shook his head. "Again, I'm afraid that would be an ineffective tactic. For that matter, your flames might not be capable of inflicting any appreciable damage to these vines at all, let alone something permanent or debilitating."

She leered back at him. "What, you scared to try?"

"Terrified!" Flamel said with a lopsided smile. "The amount of magical energy necessary to form these vines across this entire tunnel is frightening, and the only idea more frightening is what might happen were you to attempt to burn them away. If there was a reaction and I wasn't fast enough to stop it, a large portion of London might go up in the aftermath — taking us with it."

There was a moment of silence.

"Y-yeah, um, let's…not do that," Ritsuka said. "I…kind of like living, you know?"

Mordred huffed a short chuckle. "If it was just me, I might've said just to do it. I'm a Servant, so who gives a fuck if I gotta die to take out the enemy, right?" She glanced back at us Masters. "But you Chaldea folk still got more work to do after this, don'tcha? Can't go blowing you lot up into the sky, now can we?"

"I didn't bring my jetpack," Rika confirmed.

"Don't have a damn clue what that is!" Mordred replied brightly.

I refrained from commenting. Rika didn't know it, but if Da Vinci had made our current mystic codes and their "cushion" functions using what I was pretty sure she had, then she was technically wearing a part of my own flight pack. So in a way, she had indeed brought her jetpack.

Unfortunately, Flamel's theory appeared to bear out the longer we walked. With the pace we had to take, I had plenty of time to squish my bugs into as many crevices and cracks as I could find, and the same thing greeted me each time: an impassable wall that blocked them from going any further than maybe an inch into the walls. Every part of the tunnel beyond the tunnel itself was inaccessible to me, and to some extent, I was starting to worry.

If the only entrance to M's base was down here in this tunnel but the only way to reach it was to wait until he came out himself, then what were we supposed to do? We could set up an ambush or something, sure, but we had no idea if or when he would ever have to leave, because as a Servant, he didn't need to worry about logistics like food or water. As long as he had the Grail, he could sit and wait us out.

The one thing I could cling to was Angrboða. His steam machine had to have an outlet somewhere in order to release the fog out into the city, and wherever that outlet was, it would at least be some kind of lead on the location of this secret base.

My alarm suddenly went off, announcing the schedule of the fog rolling in. I reached over to the metal band of my communicator to turn it off — and I'd barely done so before streams of white mist began jetting out of the walls.

"The fog!" Mash shouted, alarmed. "Miss Taylor!"

But I was already scrambling for my mask, holding my breath as I jammed it on. My glasses came off and fell somewhere to the tinkle of what might have been breaking glass, but I was far more concerned with getting my mask in place and making sure it was on correctly at that moment, so I couldn't give it the attention it would have needed otherwise.

Thankfully, time hadn't dulled the practiced motions much, so by the time my lungs started to burn for fresh air, it was safe for me to breathe in. The filter in my mask took care of the toxins in the fog and all I got was sweet oxygen.

My bugs weren't as lucky. They were dying en masse, overloaded by the dense energy in the mist when the poison wasn't enough to do them in on its own.

"There are vents in the walls!" Emiya announced.

"I-is that a normal part of the tunnel construction?" Mash asked.

I didn't really know. I wanted to say there must have been something in the walls and the floor to drain things like water in the case of flooding or circulate the air, but I'd never had to really think of it before, so I couldn't say.

"Whether it is or not, it is apparent that this is how M and his co-conspirators have been delivering the fog throughout the city," Flamel said as he bent down. He straightened back up a moment later. "It is likely that our ultimate enemy had Professor Babbage connect all of the vents throughout the city to a single network and has been using it to pump the mist to every section at once, or at least every section in this part of London." There was a brief flash of red light, and then he handed me my perfectly intact glasses, adding, "Your glasses, my dear girl."

I took them from him and folded them up, placing them in the safety of my utility pouch.

"Thanks."

"It was no trouble."

"When we first arrived, the mist came from the western part of the city moving east," a new voice said, and Arash materialized at the back of the group.

"Arash!" Mash, Ritsuka, and Rika all exclaimed.

"Oh," said Mordred. "It's just you. Geez. A little warning next time, yeah?"

"I thought there was a rule about that or whatever," Jeanne Alter agreed snidely.

"Sorry about that," Arash apologized. "I brought someone else with me, too."

A tug on my shirt pulled my attention down, and I met Jackie's big, green eyes.

"We saw the mist," she said. "Is Mommy okay?"

I set my hand on her head reassuringly, since she couldn't see my smile. "I'm fine, Jackie. The mask Da Vinci gave me is working perfectly."

Tohsaka and Alice? I asked Arash.

Safely back at the apartment, he replied. I didn't leave until I was sure they were inside and uninjured.

I gave him the smallest of nods. Good.

"It might look super creepy, but I'm not gonna lie, I'm super jealous," said Rika. She pinched her nose shut, grimacing. "This stuff still smells super disgusting."

"Hopefully, this is the last day we'll have to put up with it," her brother said, but he didn't sound all that hopeful.

I guess he's not going to be holding his breath, I thought, and then was immediately glad that my mask could hide my grimace, because that was terrible. It seemed Rika really was rubbing off on me.

"It's already killed the bugs I managed to bring with me," I told them all. I swung my arm around, shining my communicator's flashlight across the breadth of the tunnel. "Even if I could have found the vents before — and I wasn't having any luck with that — I can't anymore."

"Giving more credence to my theory about the nature of these vines," Flamel said grimly.

"That's what it looks like, yes."

And I hated it. Because things would get a lot harder and a lot more inconvenient if it was true.

"So what does that mean for us?" Ritsuka asked.

As much as I hated to admit it, I wasn't quite sure. If we had any idea of where M's secret base was… Without so much as a general direction, however? Then even if we started doing the dangerous and desperate stuff like having Mordred and Emiya fire off Noble Phantasms indiscriminately, we'd have to destroy half the city just to have a chance of maybe hitting him. Maybe, because half a degree off on any axis could see us missing him entirely.

And if that failed, we would have exhausted two of our heaviest hitters and left ourselves open to counterattack. Or M could just sit back and leave us to spend hours or days sorting through the rubble for a Grail that wasn't there, hoping that we could find it before he could finish whatever he was planning.

"We keep going," I said for lack of anything better. "We check the densest point of the Ley Line Terminal, and then we continue down to the station we were going to leave from to begin with." I looked over my shoulder at Flamel, "Caster, are we close enough now that you could track the energy in the fog to its source?"

Flamel's lips drew into a thin line. "I…perhaps. I can at least make the attempt. Yes, this early in its deployment and this close to its point of origin, I do believe I could determine the general direction from which it came."

I nodded. "Then we'll leave that to you."

"No pressure!" Rika added.

With our only lead further on, we had to keep going, so we did, now with Arash and Jackie in tow. They caught on without us needing to explain to avoid the thorns, maybe because they'd seen us doing it while they were catching up and figured it out on their own. The addition of two new people, however, didn't do us any favors in speed, and so, between all of the other factors we were already having to work around, a journey that would have taken us half the time or less on any of the other lines wound up taking way longer than it should have.

By the time we'd reached the point on the Central Line closest to the Association's enormous ley line, we'd spent the better part of half an hour just getting there.

"This is it," I announced when we reached it. "Anyone seeing anything?"

Flashlights swung around, casting beams of focused light across every section of the tunnel, from the floor to the walls to the ceiling, and after the initial casual look showed nothing of interest, a series of slower, more careful inspections followed. Not only us Masters and Mash, but also the Servants, particularly the Archers with their eagle-eyed vision, scoured the entire section for any hints, clues, or signs of something out of place.

The branches didn't make anything easier. Under the harsh light of our flashlights, they cast deep, dark shadows, sharp lines that cut the light from the dark like a blade. A softer, more diffuse lighting would have been better, something more like the gas lamps back at the platform or more modern fluorescent lights, but even if I'd been confident enough in my runes to attempt it, the only place to carve them was the branches. Needless to say, I wasn't going to risk that.

"I don't see anything," Ritsuka announced.

"Uhn," Fran agreed.

Rika shook her head. "Nada. This guy could've at least done us the favor of putting up a sign or something, you know, like, 'bad guy lair ahead' or something."

"Just like Sir Mordred said earlier," Mash said with a sigh.

"Woulda made it a helluva lot easier," Mordred grunted. "Can't see shit in this place."

"Be a whole lot easier to see down here if all these branches were on fire," Jeanne Alter suggested bluntly.

"No," half a dozen different people said at once in just as many tones.

"I don't taste good extra crispy!" Rika added.

"Alright, alright," Jeanne Alter grumbled. "Killjoys, the whole lot of you."

"Not sure any extra light would help all that much," Arash remarked. "If there's some kind of secret entrance hidden here, then it's hidden well enough that I can't find any sign of it. You, Emiya?"

"Much as I hate to admit it, I can't claim any better," said Emiya sourly. "If there is some kind of entrance to a secret base here, then it's hidden so well that it's indistinguishable from the tunnel, just as you said."

"Caster?" I asked Flamel. "Had any luck?"

"Some," he said, "but not as much as we would have liked. I've been following the flow of magical energy as we go, and as you might imagine, it's becoming somewhat harder as the fog gets thicker. I can say," he added, "that this general area is…not quite correct, but not wrong either. Wherever our elusive M has situated himself, it is fairly nearby, and so there should be some sign of his location nearby as well. Unfortunately…"

"If it's here, it's hidden behind the branches," I concluded, and so thoroughly that even the best two pairs of eyes on the team couldn't find it.

He nodded. "Yes."

Fuck. That was the very last thing I wanted to hear, right now.

"We'll mark this spot on the map." I hated having to say it even as the words left my mouth. "We'll check and see if the branches continue on as far as the St. Paul's station, and then figure out a plan of action before we come back this way."

Because even if M was somehow hiding the way in, I was as sure as I could be that it was here somewhere. Knowing how far these branches reached, however, would still tell us something about our enemy, because it boggled the mind to imagine that even a particularly powerful Caster could have such enormous reach without having support from the Grail.

"We could try cutting it," Jackie offered. "Our knives are very sharp, Mommy."

"If we try that, Mordred will be the one chopping," I told her. "She has magic resistance, so if something goes wrong, she doesn't have to worry about being hurt."

"Ha!" Mordred barked a short laugh. "That all I'm good for, these days? Taking hits that'd lay someone else out?"

"Maybe if you weren't so good at it, British," Jeanne Alter shot back.

Mordred grinned. "Guess that just means I'm a better hero than the rest of you!"

"You're a better something, that's for sure."

"Oh my god, just kiss already!" Rika cried. "Get it over with!"

The reaction, of course, was predictable —

"What the fuck did you just say?"

"With her? No way!"

"You know," Emiya said contemplatively, "now that you mention it, Master…"

Both Mordred and Jeanne Alter whirled about to face him, and together, they demanded, "You tryna pick a fight, you bastard!?"

And when they realized what they'd done, they turned to each other, surprised, and their cheeks flushed red. Rather than keep fighting, they deliberately turned away from each other and tried to pretend nothing had happened.

The round of quiet chuckles was likewise ignored, as though refusing to acknowledge them would somehow erase the whole incident from everyone's memories.

Unfortunately, the rest of the tunnel was much like all the sections that came before it. The branches didn't thin out as we went, but the fog did, at least a little. The further we got from that central point so close to the British Museum and its Ley Line Terminal, the thinner the mist got, although it was rapidly thickening as it chased us back east. Like Arash said, it was just like it was when we first Rayshifted into this Singularity, starting in the west and moving eastward throughout the city.

If we had set up our own base in Buckingham, I imagine it would have rolled in from the north.

It convinced me all the more that M was hiding out somewhere near there. The only trick was figuring out exactly where, and with the branches in the way, we didn't have much in the way of options on that front. If they really did disconnect the entrance to M's base from the tunnel itself until he had a reason to leave it, then the only thing we could really do was get rid of the branches.

Hours seemed to pass before we finally came upon the St. Paul's station, that was how much the combination of the branches and the fog slowed us, and it was much the same as the last one: overgrown with branches that jutted out of nearly every surface, creating a veritable jungle for us to cross. The signs, the bricks, the floors, they were all ruined and wrecked with twisting brown brambles jutting out of them and crossing over each other in chaotic tangles. Down the other end of the tunnel, they continued on into the darkness, far enough at least that the light of my flashlight couldn't reach the end of them.

Whoever this Caster was, I had to hope that he was a pushover in direct combat, because if his offense was as good as his defense, then he might be a lot more trouble to deal with than anyone since Herakles and Caenis.

Just getting up onto the platform safely turned into something of an adventure, and there was no way for us to do it except for one at a time. Our Servants, at least, could give us a literal helping hand, since they could just jump or even turn into spirit form instead of physically pulling themselves up, but we had to take even more care climbing up here than we had getting down on our way in.

After spending so long taking so much care and having to watch for the branches and thorns, it was a relief to climb the stairs of the station and walk out back onto the streets. It was marred, of course, by the fog, but there wasn't much of anything we could do about that, and the only solution would see the whole situation solved anyway.

"Never thought I'd be relieved to see the foggy streets again," Emiya remarked.

"Right?" Rika agreed.

Arash hummed. "Have to admit, it's a bit of a relief after crawling through all of those branches."

Mordred snorted. "Doesn't change our problems, though. How are we gonna take out that M bastard if we can't even get to him?"

"It's becoming more diffuse as it spreads, but the flow of magical energy in the fog only led one way while we were down there," said Flamel. "I do believe we had the correct location, so at this point, it may only be a matter of…smoking him out, so to speak."

A slow grin began to grow on Jeanne Alter's face.

"Do you have any ideas how to go about doing that?" I asked him.

"None, I'm afraid, that would be easy to enact," he answered apologetically. He stroked his beard in thought. "If we knew where, specifically, the location of the entrance was, then perhaps… With so much material to work with, however, the effort required would be prohibitive. Even were we to forge a contract right here and now," he added for good measure, as though predicting my thoughts, "the strain supporting such an endeavor would put on all of you would make engaging M afterwards a difficult proposition."

"You did a lot of really incredible stuff at the museum, though," said Ritsuka. "Wasn't all of that pretty costly, too?"

Flamel shook his head.

"Simple shape transformation is not nearly as difficult as it may have seemed on the outside," he said. "In fact, the most draining thing I have yet done since my summoning was the creation of the diorama you saw in the study. For that matter, against Paracelsus, I was working with ordinary stone and glass, whereas these vines are likely the manifestation of a Noble Phantasm. It is far harder for me to attempt inserting my own mana into someone else's spell and twist it to my liking than it is to work that ordinary stone into a spear or a statue."

"Like trying to change the path of a river with a rock," Mash muttered.

Flamel nodded. "Just so. With enough rocks, I might forge a dam. Unfortunately…"

You needed too many rocks for a single person to find the effort worth it.

"Fuck," Mordred grunted.

"Uhn," Fran agreed.

"So what I'm hearing here is," Jeanne Alter began, "the only thing we can do is burn it all down."

Flamel grimaced, but didn't deny the point.

"If we set up a bounded field around the point, could you contain the fire there?" I asked.

"I…do believe that's possible, yes," Flamel said. "The opening that would give us might not be overly large, but disrupting the structure for long enough should at least allow us to determine the location of the entrance."

Jeanne Alter's grin gained teeth, so broad it threatened to split her face in half.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you."

We all startled, whirling about towards the source of the smokey, unfamiliar alto that had just spoken. But there was no one there, no sign of another person aside from us, not even a vague silhouette looming from out of the fog. Another Assassin? But revealing herself would have torn away any semblance of Presence Concealment, wouldn't it?

"On the roof!" said Arash, pointing, and when I followed the direction of his finger, I found the shape of a large bird perched upon the roof of a nearby building, peering down at us. A lump of foreboding settled in my stomach like ice.

It was a crow.
— o.0.O.O.0.o —​
I wanted to go a little bit further at the end there...but that line was perfect to stop on, so I did.

Eagle-eyed readers have probably already figured out who that was at the end there, but there's still a little further to go before she gets a proper reveal in-story, and then I get to let her flex a little and show off. I have a few fun things I want to do with her when she's finally on-screen in person.

I'm really looking forward to it. Taylor, on the other hand, might not be so excited about it.
Next — Chapter CLIII: Londinium Hostage Crisis
"Oh dear. Never rescued? He'll be invincible, then."
 
Hereafter Material: Puss in Boots [Term]
Puss in Boots [Term]
A talking fairy tale cat. A creature of cleverness and guile that uses trickery and deception to achieve its ends, serving its master faithfully.

The story of Puss in Boots is the story of a young man who comes into possession of his late father's cat, lamenting that his brothers received a far greater inheritance. However, the cat speaks and convinces him to go along with its schemes, and then proceeds to beguile the king with gifts that he claims are from his master, the Marquis of Carabas.

Eventually, entirely through trickery, threats, and clever ploys, Puss arranges for his master to own a castle, the land around it, and marry the king's daughter. As a show of appreciation, the cat himself comes to live in the lap of luxury and enjoys the fruits of his labor, wanting for nothing.

Taking the form of a common house cat, without his signature attire, there is no way to distinguish him from an ordinary animal. As he possesses a weak Assassin class Saint Graph, even his presence gives nothing away, and as long as he does nothing to reveal his true nature, he can hide in plain sight and move about without suspicion. Even in the case he speaks, in the moment, it will not be considered unusual. Cats may not be able to speak, but it is only natural that this one can.

Rather than a swashbuckling hero, the original Puss in Boots wields only his wits as a weapon, and arguably, this makes him all the more dangerous.
 
Chapter CLIII: Londinium Hostage Crisis
This story and this chapter brought to you by my wonderful supporters, whose kindness and generosity have made it possible to devote so much of my time and attention to writing, especially Eric, s22132, AbyssalApsu, Mark, Peter Parker, and Alias 2v10. You guys are absolute legends. To show my gratitude, they had the chance to read this and upcoming chapters before the public release. You can find out more HERE.

If you aren't up for that for whatever reason, then you can support the story by leaving a like on the chapters and a comment about what you enjoyed or didn't enjoy.

And now that the shameless plugging is out of the way...

Chapter CLIII: Londinium Hostage Crisis

"Welcome — or should I say, a pleasure to finally meet you, Chaldeans."

The crow's beak moved, and from out of its mouth came that smokey alto, a husky voice that dripped culture and condescension in equal measure. I didn't recognize it, although that wasn't really saying much, only that it didn't belong to anyone we had yet met either here in London or any of the previous Singularities.

"You know who we are," Emiya said with an undercurrent of accusation. His wasn't the only body that was tense and rigid, so on guard that he would have seemed more relaxed behind actual fortress walls.

The crow tilted its head. "I should hope so. After all, I've spent oh so much time with you these last few days, and yet you never did me even the courtesy of a simple hello. Quite rude of you, don't you think?"

"The crow the other day," Ritsuka murmured, having realized the same thing I had.

The crow was completely disposable, or at least replaced easily enough that there functionally wasn't a difference. The one Arash had shot down had disappeared completely by the time it hit the ground, so if this one was the same, then it wouldn't set her back much if we destroyed it, too.

"Not the first time I had the pleasure of seeing all of you in action, but I'm afraid it may be the last," said the crow.

And if I asked, there was no way she would tell us exactly how long she'd been watching us for. The answer would likely be "since the moment you arrived," and that was either true or an attempt to psych us out. It didn't make that much difference about what she knew either way.

"You said that you wouldn't burn down any of the branches if you were us," I said bluntly.

The crow ruffled its feathers. "My, my, where are your manners, young lady? Did your mother never teach you to observe the niceties? Why, we haven't even yet been formally introduced, and you want to talk business already?"

Jackie bristled on my behalf, hands reaching for her knives, and I stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. If she noticed the slight tremor in my fingers, the only visible sign that remark had hit a little too close to home, then she didn't say.

It was the shock of it more than anything else. I thought I'd gotten over shots at my mom a long time ago. Maybe I'd just been thinking about her so much the last few days that it left me a little more sensitive to them.

"If you've been watching us as long as you say, then you already know our names," I told the crow. It felt a little silly talking to one like it was a person, which I guess was how others must have felt when talking to me through Huginn or Muninn. "So it seems to me like the one being rude here is you, who hasn't revealed her name to us yet."

"Hey, yeah!" Rika agreed.

A throaty chuckle rumbled out of the crow's throat. "Oh, but you are a clever one, aren't you? I suppose, in the spirit of fairness, I can at least do that much, can't I? Very well. If you must have a name, you can call me M. That should be more than enough for you, seeing as you never properly gave me your own names, did you? Especially as you've been using a fake one for Mister Flamel over there."

Flamel startled, and the crow honed in on it immediately, turning its head to look his way.

"Oh yes," it said, victoriously smug, "your little attempts at subterfuge were all for naught, I'm afraid. Even were they not so painfully obvious, your indiscretion with dear Paracelsus revealed the truth all on its own. The fact you allowed him to shout your true name to the world was quite the oversight — all to the better, at least for my benefit."

M. As in, the mastermind behind all of this? Wasn't it supposed to be a man, or…had I just simply made that assumption because of my Moriarty theory?

"Uhn!" Fran growled, taking a step towards the crow. Uselessly, because there wasn't anything she could do to it that would accomplish anything meaningful, not when we'd already killed one. "Ah, uhn, uhn, ah-ah, uhn!"

"That's right!" said Mash. "If you really are M, then that means you're the one responsible! Not only did you turn both Professor Babbage and Paracelsus into monsters, you even forced him to commit suicide!"

"Regrettable," M said, "but necessary. Poor Professor Babbage… Why, if he had just done as he was supposed to instead of allowing sentiment to get the better of him, he would still be here now, watching his world of steam come to fruition. That's the trouble with men like them: they tend to grow a conscience."

"Hey," said Mordred, "you keep dancing around the whole thing. Why shouldn't we just burn down that whole damn forest down there?"

"Oh, and now I've forgotten my manners!" M gasped melodramatically. "Dear me, how ever did I let myself get carried away? Please allow me to correct my mistake. The reason why you might want to avoid burning any of my forest of thorns away is because I'm ashamed to admit that I could not guarantee poor Renée's safety if you did."

Behind my mask, my eyes widened. She had Renée?

Flamel moved first, before anyone could stop him. By the time Emiya even thought of reaching for his bow or the implication sank in deeply enough to make anyone else shout, he was already pressing his hands together, red light flowing from between his fingers, and the rooftop warped, flexed, and contorted. The tiles snaked up the crow's legs and pulled taut like shackles, and the stone rose up and wrapped around the body, holding it tight.

The suddenness of it killed everyone else's reactions, and in the stunned silence that followed, Flamel's quiet fury echoed like thunder.

"What," he ground out like a glacier, his face a rictus of anger so intense it almost burned to look at, "have you done to her?"

The crow cackled again, as though it wasn't held fast under the threat of being violently crushed. "Why, nothing!" said M, still smug. "Yet. You see, while the whole lot of you were quite happy to go gallivanting across the city searching for my little hideaway, you left your dear princess all but undefended. It was child's play to arrange for a…distraction of your comrades and take your precious daughter while their attention was elsewhere."

"You're lying," I accused her.

"Am I?" But she sounded amused, not threatened or angry or defensive, as she might have been if she really was lying. "I suppose you'll find out for yourselves soon enough, won't you? After all, that cozy little apartment you've been playing house in isn't all that far from here, is it? You will see with your own eyes that she's no longer there."

My mouth drew into a tight line. Calling someone's bluff only worked if they were actually bluffing. An enemy who only ever told you the truth was one of the most terrifying.

So what the hell had she done to keep Nursery Rhyme and the Jabberwocky busy thoroughly enough and long enough to sneak in and grab Renée?

"Where have you taken her?" Flamel demanded.

"Where else but my secret lair? Where she will stay, with me, until my work is done and there is no more need for her." And then, all traces of humor vanished, and M's voice became cold and hard. "Hear me well, Chaldeans. Abandon this course and your precious princess will remain unharmed. She need not suffer even so much as a pricked finger. If, however, you insist upon violence, then violence shall be visited upon your dear Renée. After all, I don't truly need her — alive, that is."

And with this final line, the crow erupted into flames, burning away until not even ash remained of it. M's sadistic laughter, on the other hand, still echoed for several seconds afterwards, and it wasn't truly gone until all traces of the crow had vanished.

There was a bare second of silence, a heartbeat, as we all absorbed what had just happened, but the instant it passed, Flamel was moving, marching away from the group with purpose.

"Gramps!" Mordred called.

"Do not try to stop me!" he all but snarled back at her. "I'm returning to the apartment — whether you accompany me or not doesn't matter to me, as long as you don't get in my way!"

He stormed off, and we all had no other choice but to follow him. Emiya, surprisingly, was at the head of the group, the first to fall into step behind Flamel, and the intense look on his face was nearly as worrying as the uncharacteristic rage on Flamel's.

"Senpai," Ritsuka began.

"I know," I told him.

"Uh-uhn," Fran grunted.

"We have to check on Miss Renée," Mash said quietly, to avoid drawing Flamel's attention. "If…she really has been kidnapped…"

Then we had to go after her.

M couldn't have spelled out for us any clearer that this was a trap. She might as well have had her crow carry a placard and everything announcing it. The trouble was, even if it was a trap, what other choice did we have? Were we just supposed to leave Renée to whatever fate M had cooked up for her? Because I doubted any of us believed that she wouldn't hurt Renée as long as we just stayed out of her business.

My hands curled into fists, and I had to force myself to relax them.

Fuck that shit. I hadn't let it go with Dinah, and I had no intention of starting here now. Besides, it wasn't like that was a viable option to begin with. M was an enemy we had to defeat no matter what, the last of this Singularity's masterminds, and supposedly the one who had started it all. One way or another, we had to go after her and defeat her and take the Grail she was using to perpetuate both this Singularity and this fog.

"Then we'll rescue her," I said, like it was a law of the universe and couldn't be questioned.

The twins nodded, and so did Mash. "Yeah."

"And tear this M lady a new asshole in the process," Mordred added.

"Bleeding hearts, the whole lot of you," Jeanne Alter said, but she didn't try to convince us otherwise.

It took us ten long minutes to make it back to the apartment, and when we got there —

"Holy shit," Rika swore quietly.

— it was to find both the front door and a large portion of the wall smashed in, like someone had fired a tank shell at it without any care for the damage. The windows had been shattered, the brickwork utterly obliterated, and through the gaping wound left behind, we could see the wrecked parlor, with the furniture destroyed and scattered about the floor, bits of stuffing from the cushions strewn about and left to lie where they'd fallen, shards of wood from the couch and chairs lying in jagged chunks.

A closer look, however, showed deep gouges in the facade around the enormous hole, as though some creature with long, sharp claws had ripped its way through with sheer strength. Further inside, we'd find more along the walls and the floor, carved into the wood paneling. Of that, I had no doubt.

Flamel stopped short as the full scope of the damage became clearer, sucking in a short, sharp gasp that was so quiet I wasn't sure I hadn't imagined it. Then, he rushed up the stairs, taking them two at a time as though he had forgotten that he was a Servant and could simply return to spirit form to make things faster, and through the remains of what could only have been the front door.

We couldn't do anything else except follow him, picking our way across the rubble not unlike how we had at the British Museum.

"Renée!" Flamel shouted into the apartment. "Renée, please, come out this instant!"

She did not appear. There was only the ringing silence of his fading echo.

"Oh no," Mash whispered.

"Renée!" he tried one more time.

"Abraham!" Jekyll's voice called, and he stepped into the threshold of the tea room. His cravat had been wrapped around his nose and mouth to form a makeshift mask. "Thank goodness, you've returned!"

Behind him, Tohsaka and Nursery Rhyme slowly and cautiously came into view. None of them looked any the worse for wear, at least not physically, but Tohsaka's expression was hard and stony and grim.

"Doctor Jekyll," Flamel began hurriedly, "Renée, is she —"

"Gone," said Tohsaka.

"There was an assault upon the apartment, Abraham," Jekyll explained. "An awful creature, a monster straight out of the depths of Hell, it broke through the front door and caused the awful mess you see before you. Mister Tohsaka and Miss Alice engaged him, but I fear, in the chaos, dear Renée went missing. We attempted to find her with the resources we had available, but alas, since we cannot safely venture out into the mist…"

He gestured to the broken window and the devastated front wall, where the fog hovered, just barely inside. There seemed to be some sort of force holding it at bay, much like when Jackie and Robin had attacked us. Confirmation, of a sort, that Flamel's bounded field was keeping it out, because I didn't have a better explanation that didn't rely on more good will than I was willing to ascribe to M just then.

Flamel staggered as though he had taken a heavy blow, hand pressed to his heart. "She really was taken!"

"I can only offer my sincerest apologies, Abraham," said Jekyll. "If I had just realized the enemy's intent sooner —"

"Would that it were so easy as to blame you," Flamel said. He squeezed his eyes shut, grimacing. "But I have gravely underestimated our enemy's cleverness and cruelty. I thought it so ingenious…"

I turned to Jekyll. I didn't dare to take off my mask, not until Flamel fixed the damage. "You mentioned a monster?"

He nodded. "A terrible thing, twelve feet tall, with arms that reached the floor and a beastly maw filled with the sharpest teeth. It had eyes like hellfire and claws fit to rend a man in two, and it was clad in fur of the blackest night."

"A werewolf?" Rika asked incredulously. "You were attacked by a werewolf?"

"I…suppose it bore a passing resemblance to such a thing, yes," said Jekyll.

Rika groaned. "Dracula in Orléans, and now Frankenstein and the Wolfman in London! What next, Godzilla?"

"Uhn…?" Fran said uncertainly.

"She's being melodramatic," Ritsuka said apologetically. "Doctor Jekyll, was this, um, werewolf a Servant?"

Jekyll grimaced and shook his head. "I'm afraid I couldn't say for sure, Ritsuka. It had uncommon strength to have made such a mess of the apartment, and the Jabberwocky…"

"Got torn to pieces," said Tohsaka. "I'm not sure it was a Servant either, but it was powerful enough that even Alice's Jabberwocky couldn't do anything more than keep it occupied until it decided to leave. There was…also something rather unsettling about it. It had a unique ability to mimic others' voices — including yours, Flamel."

"It mimicked my voice?" Flamel echoed incredulously. "What on Earth…"

"Before we continue," I began, "it might be better if we could have this conversation without prying ears listening in. Caster, if you could fix the damage…"

Flamel jolted. "Yes… Yes, of course, forgive me the oversight."

He pressed his hands together the way I'd seen him do every other time before, and then red light flowed out from between his fingers, and the room slowly shifted like someone had pressed the reverse button on a video. Stuffing packed itself back into the cushions, then the cushions themselves knitted the tears closed, and the shards of wood slithered back into their proper places, all seamlessly. The pieces of shattered glass leapt back into their frames and sealed over without a single crack, and the bricks and dust sprang back into the shape of a wall, followed shortly by the wooden paneling and all of the rest.

By the time the front door snapped into place, it was once more as though nothing had ever happened. Finally, I could take off my mask and put my glasses back on.

"Done," Flamel announced unnecessarily.

I gave a brief nod and turned back to Jekyll and Tohsaka. "You mentioned something about mimicking voices."

Tohsaka grimaced. "Yes," he said. "It wasn't…used on us, exactly. It didn't seem to see the need. Brute force was doing the job just fine. Its target seemed to be Renée, and when it called to her, it had some kind of hypnotic effect. She came walking towards it like she was in some kind of trance."

"Did it hurt her?" Flamel asked, pained.

"No," Tohsaka answered. "Although whether or not it tried is a different story."

"It sought her out, Abraham," Jekyll said. "The instant it laid its terrible gaze upon her, it dispensed with all pretense of playing with the Jabberwocky and attempted to lay its hands upon her. Fortunately, the Jabberwocky is quite the hardy fellow, and it managed to hold onto the beast long enough to disrupt its hold on her and allow her to escape. After that…"

"She vanished!" said Nursery Rhyme. "I didn't let her into Wonderland, so she could be anywhere!"

This didn't do anything to make Flamel feel better.

"And when she fled," Flamel said, closing his eyes tightly, "she must have run right into the enemy's arms."

"I'm sorry," Jekyll said again.

"Can't say I've heard of a werewolf that could be a Heroic Spirit," Emiya said thoughtfully. "Unlike Dracula, there isn't really what you might call a prototypical werewolf, at least not one that has a name." He glanced at Arash. "You?"

Arash shook his head, frowning. "Afraid not."

"I knew a guy kinda like that, once," Mordred said. "Or, well, I knew of a guy kinda like that. Never had the chance to meet him face to face or nothing, though. Doesn't even sound like him either."

"Maybe the murder tyke has some idea," Jeanne Alter said, looking over at Jackie.

But Jackie just shook her head and said, "We never met anyone like that with Mister P."

"And somehow," said Ritsuka, "I don't think monster movie villains make it to the Throne of Heroes."

"Not unless the story they're based on was enough first," Emiya agreed.

"It looks like Perrault might be here, after all."

"Who?" the twins both asked.

"He wrote the original form of several very famous modern fairy tales," Mash explained. "Later on, several of them were compiled and edited by the Brothers Grimm, some of them with many details altered or expanded upon."

"Doesn't ring a bell," said Rika.

"You've heard of them before," I told her. "Wasn't Doctor Jekyll's description enough? A giant wolf with huge claws, huge eyes, huge teeth, and who could mimic others' voices?"

The moment the lightbulb went on in Rika's head was visible. "The Big Bad Wolf! Little Red Riding Hood! My, Grandma, what large teeth you have!"

"Wait, really?" her brother said incredulously.

All the better to eat you with, I thought but didn't say. Frankly, I hadn't realized it at first either. Maybe because I'd been thinking of fairy tales earlier, however, it seemed like the thing that made sense, especially when we had the living embodiment of nursery rhymes right here in the same room with us.

"It was one of our early theories about P, B, and M," I did say. "The Father of Fairy Tales. The Sleeping Beauty in the Wood, whose castle was defended by a forest of thorns. Little Red Riding Hood, who, in the original version, was eaten by the wicked wolf and never rescued."

"Oh dear," said Nursery Rhyme. "Never rescued? He'll be invincible, then."

What?

"What do you mean, invincible?" asked Tohsaka.

"Stories are stories and dying is dying," said Nursery Rhyme matter-of-factly. "Beings born of stories have to live and die by their stories. If the wicked wolf was never killed, then by definition, he can't die, can he? Jabberwocky is the same way! The only way to kill him is to use the vorpal sword! Otherwise, the only thing you can do is hope he runs out of energy before you do!"

The pieces began to slot into place, the bits that didn't make sense before now fitting into the puzzle.

"That's so hax!" Rika complained.

In fact, I'd had a thought about it before, hadn't I? About how the forest of thorns could be easier or harder to deal with depending on whether it had to follow the rules of the story it came from. And what if it did? What if everything that came out of Perrault's Noble Phantasm had to obey the rules of the story it had originated from? Everything in it had to die the way it was killed, and every bit of magic had to obey the laws written into the tale?

"I… You know, Rika? You're right," said her brother. "It is hax."

Nursery Rhyme giggled, pleased.

In that case, burning it down might not accomplish much of anything. Maybe it would have opened up a short window for us to go through, or maybe it would have just remained completely impervious, regenerating so quickly that we wouldn't have been able to squeeze a fly through, let alone ourselves. But that cut both ways. If the magic of the forest of thorns had to follow the rules of Sleeping Beauty, then they were there to protect the princess and would open the way for her rescuer.

And M had just made the mistake of kidnapping the closest thing we had to a princess: the only daughter of a rich Parisian alchemist who had created her to fill the hole of the child he and his wife could never have. Perrault couldn't have written a better backstory if he tried.

"No," I said, "this is actually good news."

Once again, everyone turned to look at me, incredulous.

"What?" Mordred said. "You hit your head or something?"

"Or something," Jeanne Alter said.

"Um, the way they said it isn't the best," Mash began, "but are you sure, Miss Taylor? M-maybe…you really did hit your head recently?"

"I mean, Senpai's usually got something cooking in that head," Rika said, prefacing the rest, "but, um, I have…no idea where she's going with this one."

"You're not looking at it from the right angle," I told them all. "First of all…"

I fiddled with my communicator for a second, opening up the communications link with Chaldea. A moment later — beep-beep — and Marie's face appeared in the air.

"What did you need?" she asked me immediately.

"You've been keeping up with the developments on our end?"

"Of course," she answered, sounding only slightly annoyed that I had even bothered asking. "Flamel's homunculus has been kidnapped by the last of the supposed masterminds of this Singularity and taken to her workshop, where the steam engine behind the fog, Angrboða, is presumably being kept as well, fueled by the Holy Grail."

"I'm glad no one was injured, at least!" Romani's voice called from the background.

"Read the room!" Marie hissed back at him.

First, there was a question I should probably ask, as much for Flamel's peace of mind as to confirm the concept would work out the way I thought it would.

"Do you still have a read of her vital signs?"

"Yes," said Marie, looking over at something on the side. "There's some anomalous activity in her magic circuits that we can't explain, almost like she's cycling energy through them, but there's been no signs of any damage done to her physical body. Whatever else she might have taken her for, M hasn't hurt…Renée yet."

And just a little bit, Flamel relaxed. "Yet," he emphasized. "There is no guarantee things will stay that way."

Marie frowned. "No, I suppose there isn't."

"Director," I said, "the fact you can still read her vitals also means you can still track her location, doesn't it?"

Surprised understanding rippled across the rest of the group.

"Yes," Marie answered simply.

"And you could forward that to our maps here?"

Marie's brow furrowed. "Yes, we could." Her eyes narrowed on me. "You're going to rescue her."

There was a note of disapproval in her voice. A lingering prejudice, if I had to guess, about homunculi and their worth, or maybe just the insistence on something that was ultimately pointless, since Renée would disappear with the Singularity.

That didn't make rescuing her any less worth doing.

"Yes."

"Wait," said Rika, "don't we already know where Renée is? That's the whole reason we were down in that creepy thorny subway tunnel, wasn't it? To find M's super secret lair?"

"We know where we think they are," I clarified. M had done plenty of things to convince me we'd been on the right track, but it was never confirmed. "But that doesn't mean we were right. Director?"

She didn't look entirely happy about it, but after a moment, Marie turned away and started typing at her console's keyboard. A few seconds later, there was a beep on my communicator, notifying me of the update. When I loaded up the map, there was a stark, red dot, right next to the marker for the spot where we'd thought the entrance to M's lair would be.

"The reading is coming from deep underground," Marie explained. "We have no data showing anything in that area except for untouched earth, so whatever is there, it doesn't exist in our records from proper history."

"Oh my god," Rika whispered, "she really did build a Bond lair!"

My cheek twitched, but I did my best to pretend she hadn't said anything. I didn't want to have to explain the memory that triggered of another villain who had done something similar. Too much to unpack.

"That's not very far from the spot we were investigating," Mash noted.

"So we were on the right track," I concluded. "And M has done us another favor — if Perrault really is involved and the forest of thorns is his, then this gives us a direct line right past their defenses. We won't have to do anything except waltz right up to the entrance and walk in."

Jeanne Alter groaned. "Seriously? You telling me we're not going to burn any of it down anymore?"

"Sorry to disappoint."

"Ugh!" she grunted, crossing her arms over her chest and looking away. She glared at some spot on the wall, as thought it might burst into flames just from her looking at it long and hard enough.

"M gave us the way into her own base!" Ritsuka breathed. "Senpai, that's…!"

"Just what we needed to put an end to all of this," Arash finished for him.

"And when the Singularity disappears, everything inside of it that doesn't belong will disappear, too," Marie said, voice hard. "For those things which have merely deviated from proper history, they'll be restored to their place. Those things which don't belong but which are products of events inside the Singularity will simply be erased. All of you know that already, so then you have to know that rescuing Flamel's homunculus is pointless." Over the protests of the twins and Jekyll, she added, "Even if you managed to rescue her despite being at the heart of the enemy's power, her lifespan will only be measured in hours! At best!"

"Director!" Romani protested.

"You know that as well as I do!" she snapped back at him. "The mission and the safety of our team's members takes priority over any life inside the Singularities, no matter who it is! That doesn't change just because they make friends with the people in there!"

"That might be true," Ritsuka began, "but Director Marie — !"

"Director." My voice cut through the argument like a knife, and I met her eyes straight on. "Does the length of her lifespan dictate the value of her life itself? Is she worth less simply because she won't live as long?"

Marie faltered. She knew exactly what I was driving at. "That's…! The circumstances aren't remotely…!"

"Is Renée's life less valuable simply because it's short?" I asked again.

For a few tense seconds, she couldn't formulate a proper response, her mouth moving but no sounds making it past her lips. What I could only imagine were her sensibilities as a mage must have been fighting her morals as a decent person, and the inability to reconcile them played out across her face in a series of rapidfire battles.

Eventually, she bit her lip and hung her head, unable to hold my gaze. "No. You're right. A person's value can't…can't be measured by something as simple as the length of their lifespan." Her head shot up, expression fierce. "But that doesn't mean you're allowed to go doing something stupid like sacrificing your life for her!" She glared at each of us in turn. "That goes for the rest of you, too! I mean it! You're not allowed to die, do you understand?"

"Yes, Director!" the twins and Mash all echoed at once.

She looked at me, so I had to say, "Of course."

"I'm afraid," Flamel began gravely, "that there is another concern that we must take into account."

"Another concern?" Ritsuka asked.

Jekyll shifted, alarm on his face. "Abraham, are you sure?"

Flamel heaved out a quiet sigh, but didn't answer him directly. Instead, he dropped heavily into the nearest chair, and he looked every bit of his age.

"I have not been entirely honest with you, my friends, as I'm sure I've proven numerous times throughout our partnership in this Singularity," he said slowly. "I have concealed, misdirected, or outright obfuscated a number of details, not out of malicious intent, but rather an abundance of caution. I would say it was not my intent to deceive you, but if I'm being completely honest, it was. For the sake of also deceiving the enemy at times, but not always."

"What are you saying?" Marie demanded.

"I did not make Renée on a mere whim," he told us, "nor was she created solely to serve the purpose of rendering domestic aid to us here in the apartment. I would not be so callous as to bring a life into this world for the sole sake of easing such mundane tasks — I am not so irresponsible as to ignore the moral and ethical quandaries that presents, and such cruelty would, as I would hope I've proven, sicken me."

My mind raced, trying to follow the line to where it was going to end, but none of the possibilities seemed reasonable. He had already proven that he wasn't on M's side, and what would be the point of M kidnapping Renée if they were allies anyway, but leaving Flamel here? For that matter, he didn't display any of the signs I'd come to associate with the Servants twisted by M's hypnosis. He was too clear-headed.

So what could he be talking about?

"Wait a minute!" Romani shoved himself into frame, shouting at the camera. "You're not saying what I think you're saying, are you? Nicolas Flamel! Are you insane? How irresponsible could you possibly be?"

"Romani!" Marie snarled, trying to push him back. He stubbornly clung to his place. "Get a hold of yourself!"

"It seemed to me the best option available," Flamel admitted. "Hiding something so valuable in something so obvious as a safe or some sort of box would only invite the enemy to steal it, however well-protected I might try to make it. Hiding it on my person risked it being lost in battle or the enemy twisting my mind to deliver it to them. Then, where was the best place to hide the most valuable treasure in the world, but inside the body of what many would consider the most disposable tool a magus could possess?"

Wait. Was he saying…?

"You absolute madman," Emiya said, stunned, having apparently come to the same conclusion I had.

"The Philosopher's Stone," Ritsuka whispered. "You hid it inside of Renée!"

"What?" Marie shrieked.

Flamel gave a solemn nod.

"That's…"

"Cruel," said Rika, something like betrayal on her face. "Abe, you made Renée just so you could hide the Stone? Haven't you ever heard of the Mirror of Erised?"

"Rika," her brother began wearily.

"It worked for Dumbledore, didn't it?" Rika demanded.

"Dumbledore didn't have to make the Mirror from scratch!" Ritsuka pointed out. Rika opened her mouth to argue, but couldn't seem to find a hole in his logic and had to close her mouth, thwarted.

"Gramps," said Mordred, her voice trembling a little as she spoke, "you telling me that you made that psycho maid just so you could hide your fancy doohickey?"

Flamel's head drooped, and he stared downwards as he slowly wrung his hands, as though he could squeeze the guilt out of his joints by doing so. "Please don't misunderstand. It was a calculated decision, but it was not made with malice aforethought. Even we Servants summoned here were not aware of what would occur when this Singularity was corrected, only that it needed to be corrected." He folded his hands together almost like he was praying. His fingers were shaking. "One way or another, I was certain Renée would outlive me. I made arrangements with Doctor Jekyll to see to her disposition, once everything was over."

Mordred took a threatening step towards him and snarled, "Stop treating her like she's a tool in whatever game you're —"

Flamel surged out of his seat, and his voice rang out like thunder, rattling the gas lamps in their fittings. "DO NOT MISTAKE NECESSITY FOR APATHY!" He swung his hand as though cutting through some invisible substance, and his chair wobbled from the unrestrained force, even though he didn't touch it. "I fully accept the cruelty of my choices, but at no point have I ever treated her as though she was any less than the daughter I…!"

The fire left him suddenly, and he sagged, dropping back into the chair with the entirety of his weight. The wood creaked beneath him, but he didn't seem to notice as his head fell into his hand.

"I gave her everything I could," he croaked, voice cracking. "The knowledge she would need to continue on, the alchemical skills to pursue magecraft, if she should choose to do so, and memories…memories of my dear Perenelle, so that she might have some semblance of an understanding of what it's like to have a mother."

"You gave her everything you could, except a father who could be there for her as she learned to live on her own," Arash said, not unkindly.

To this, Flamel had no response. He didn't even try to offer one.

No one else seemed to notice the miserable look on Fran's face.

"Shit!" Mordred spun around, stalking across the parlor, and when she got to the other side, she stopped, running a hand through her hair. She seemed desperate to find an outlet, but none were presenting themselves, and I didn't think she dared to leave and miss out on whatever decisions we might make without her. "Fucking…shit!"

"What a mess," Emiya breathed.

It wasn't pretty, but there was at least one issue that had to be addressed first and foremost.

"Is there a way to separate the Stone from Renée?" I asked Flamel.

"Not safely," he answered quietly. "And even if it could be done without killing her outright, the Stone itself is what will ensure she could live a normal lifespan. Without it, she is as short-lived as any other homunculus."

An ugly realization bloomed in my head. "That's why M said she doesn't need her alive."

Flamel looked up, grim-faced. The wrinkles in his skin looked deeper and darker than they ever had before. "Yes. I don't know how it is that she came to the conclusion that Renée is the one in possession of the Stone, but that she knows is almost a certainty. Her choice to target Renée in particular leaves very little room for doubt."

"There's no choice, then," Marie said suddenly. "You have to rescue her."

The twins and Mash both spun around to look at her, surprised. "Director Marie?"

"Don't misunderstand me!" she snapped at them. "It's not a question of wants or morality anymore, it's a matter of strategic objectives! M already has access to a Holy Grail, and she's using that to fuel a steam engine that can cover the entire city! A Philosopher's Stone isn't quite on the same level and doesn't have the same breadth when it comes to utility, but it's absolutely something that shouldn't be in the enemy's hands!"

And while Marie was selfish enough and pragmatic enough to tell us to abandon an ally to save our own skins, she wasn't so callous as to tell us to kill someone — homunculus or not — just because it would be easier than saving them.

"Then it is all the more prudent for us to make haste and begin our assault upon the enemy's stronghold," said Jekyll.

I wasn't the only one who turned to look at him askance, having caught the implication.

"You don't intend to come with us."

Into the fog that would kill him as surely and as quickly as it would me without my mask?

"In fact, that was exactly my intent," Jekyll replied. He offered a lopsided smile. "You have not determined to leave Mister Tohsaka and Miss Alice behind again, have you? It would seem to me the wisest course of action when preparing oneself for a decisive battle against the enemy would be to marshall your forces in their entirety. Though I can lay no claim to great strategic genius, to leave important allies behind when they would be better placed upon the frontlines smacks of folly, to me."

"You're forgetting that you and I can't go out into that fog without dying within a few minutes," Tohsaka said bluntly.

"And you're an ordinary human!" Marie agreed. "There's nothing you could do to help!"

"I have forgotten no such thing," Jekyll rebuked them both. He adjusted his glasses. "There are still several details of great import that I myself have allowed to remain secret between us, and it seems to me now that as we are all revealing all of the cards we have to play, concealing them is pointless, and even more so, counterproductive."

"What are you trying to say, Doctor Jekyll?" asked Ritsuka.

"Abraham's Noble Phantasm," he said bluntly. "To my understanding, it could be used to reduce the reactivity of the fog that is smothering the city and render safe a section of space large enough for us to walk, can it not? In that case, Mister Tohsaka and I need not concern ourselves. We will be perfectly protected."

It… Actually, yes, if I understood how it worked correctly, then it could be used that way. Not easily, but it was definitely possible.

"That might get pretty tiring without a Master to help him out," Arash remarked.

Jekyll nodded. "Indeed it might. I suppose it is fortunate, then, that it is not a concern."

Hold on.

"Doctor," said Flamel, "are you sure?"

"I think the time has long since passed where I might sit about this apartment and wonder at your success," Jekyll answered firmly. "I would like to see for myself the face of the person who has done this to the city so that I might know the villain in all of her terrible glory."

So the reason Flamel was so hesitant to form a contract with us…

"I haven't the fortune to possess these Command Spells that seem so vital to proper collaboration," said Jekyll. He straightened, taking on an air of imperiousness. "Nonetheless, Abraham, consider this my first and only order to you as your Master, and give it therefore all due weight: deliver us all to M's lair safely, so that we might confront the dastardly villain trying to destroy this city."

Flamel inclined his head. "Of course, Master."

A moment of silence passed, and then a chorus of several voices shouted at once.

"WHAT?"
— o.0.O.O.0.o —​
We're getting closer, now. Next chapter... Well, that would be telling, but I think it's fairly obvious where it's going.

There were a couple of things I wasn't planning on revealing quite so soon, but the spot for them was perfect, and it made sense for what was happening in the narrative, so I just went with it.

Also, have a short sidestory to go with this chapter. I liked the idea of the scene so I wrote it out, a quick thing that expands upon something revealed in the chapter, so make sure to read the chapter first.
Next — Chapter CLIV: The Evil Fairy
"Right. Alice… I'm ordering you not to die, got it?"
 
Chapter CLIII Sidestory: Spirit of Collaboration
"I see," said Doctor Jekyll. He took a short sip of his tea. "This is…quite a lot of information to take in. I confess, my friend, if you had attempted to explain the entirety of this to me before making your request, I might have been of a mind to refuse it."

"My apologies, Doctor Jekyll," said Nicolas. "That is precisely why I waited until after we had formed a contract. I must impress upon you — for a Caster like myself, a stable connection to this world is far more important than it is to someone like Sir Mordred."

"I'm beginning to see that I understand a great deal less than I ever believed I did," Doctor Jekyll replied. "Are you certain you would prefer someone like myself, however? I confess, I am no great talent as a mage. Perhaps my friend Victor might have been better suited to be your…Master?"

Nicolas shook his head. "A proper magus is no good for me, Doctor. He would have too many questions, too many demands. If you'll forgive me the slight, Doctor, what I needed was someone who had only dipped a toe in the waters, so to speak. Someone who had enough knowledge to accept what I said, but not enough curiosity to ask for more."

"Damning me with faint praise." But Doctor Jekyll was smiling as he said it.

"I'm sorry." Nicolas looked down, tapping the floor with a foot. "There was also the consideration of the ley line. Your apartment is ideally placed, giving me enough access to more than make up for your…more average reserves of magical energy."

Doctor Jekyll laughed. "I should think my ego might not survive our partnership!"

"I meant no offense," Nicolas rushed to say, "but I feel that I should be honest about these things with you, Doctor. You happen to be doing me an incredible service. I would be remiss to spit on that."

"And I took no offense," said Doctor Jekyll, reassuring him. "I am under no illusions about where I stand on the subject of magery, and in fact, I think I prefer your predilection for honesty on the subject. The greater offense would have been to pour honeyed words into my ear so that you might steer me about as though I were your marionette dancing upon your strings."

"I'm afraid that's not in my nature," Nicolas admitted. "There was a man I was…never familiar with, I believe his name was Machiavelli? His way of thinking, I confess, is quite alien to me."

"Yes, on the subject…" Doctor Jekyll set down his cup of tea. "I must assume it intentional? You've told me a great many things, and yet not one among them happened to be your name, or indeed any facts with which I might use to identify you."

"For your own safety," said Nicolas. "A Servant's greatest weakness is his Master. I think it would serve us best if you pretended you knew nothing about them. In fact, it would be better if the idea of you being my Master never crossed anyone's mind — no reason, in that case, for the enemy to target you for any reason in particular."

"A reasonable enough precaution," Doctor Jekyll agreed. "I confess, I don't believe I would have the slightest inkling how to behave as a Master, nor what duties might be expected of me. I understand why you might be of the opinion that Victor would be less suitable to be your Master, but surely, whatever flaws he might have, his talent and wisdom would be of far greater use to you than I."

"And that is yet another reason why I couldn't, even had we not already made a contract," said Nicolas. "Your friend is the more obvious choice. If the enemy is half as shrewd as I fear, then he will be an inevitable target for their investigation. I am not so confident in myself that I could overcome whatever was thrown at me in those circumstances."

Doctor Jekyll looked down into his cup, smiling slightly. "And so I am the best choice merely because no one with any sense would believe me to be a valid choice at all."

"I truly am sorry," said Nicolas.

"Truthfully, when all is settled, you're not asking all that much of me," said Doctor Jekyll. "I am merely an anchor to tether you to this world, am I not? I need do nothing special, merely to continue existing."

"With Sir Mordred to help, I should be able to take care of everything else," Nicolas agreed. "As far as anyone else is concerned, you are merely the man kind enough to allow us to stay here for however long it takes to solve this case. No one need have any reason to suspect otherwise."

"At this point, I suppose there isn't anything I might do to change the circumstances whatever," Doctor Jekyll said ruefully. He let out a quiet sigh and smiled, lopsided. "Might I at least have a name by which to call you?"

Nicolas relaxed, and at last reached for his own cup of tea. "Abraham. You can call me Abraham, Doctor."

Doctor Jekyll inclined his head respectfully. "Then may this be a short but fruitful partnership, Abraham."

"Indeed."
 
Hereafter Material: Nicolas Flamel [Heroic Spirit]
Nicolas Flamel [Heroic Spirit]
Eremitic Alchemist


A third generation magus. The son of a family so minor and so young that they had not yet even cultivated a Magic Crest to pass down. It was only by chance, having acquired a treatise on the principles of the metallurgical alchemy practiced by the Egyptians entirely by accident during the course of his job as a scribe, that Flamel's interest in magecraft became more than a minor hobby passed down from his father.

Studying entirely in secret, expanding upon the basic concepts presented in the text, Flamel became the first true "Western alchemist," and learned the material transformation that would later become the cornerstone of the alchemy practiced by the likes of the Einzbern and Paracelsus von Hohenheim. Overflowing with talent, a no-name scrivener mastered a field of study still in its infancy.

Truly, he was an exceptional scholar. A certain genius might say, "If only we had been born into the same era. Imagine the things we might have accomplished together!"

Later in his life, he married a woman whose Magic Crest had been cursed to bring misfortune upon her family line, and her own knowledge helped him to refine the process of creating a Philosopher's Stone.

Recognizing the dangers of such a thing, he destroyed it immediately.

Having never taken an apprentice and never produced an heir, the knowledge Flamel gained was never passed down, and his research was scattered in the wake of his death. It was only centuries later, by sheer chance, that knowledge of his alchemical studies became known to the world. All of the things he wanted to be kept secret, Flamel might say, were the things that everyone wound up knowing.
 
Hereafter Material: Perenelle Flamel [Heroic Spirit]
Perenelle Flamel [Heroic Spirit]

Wife of Nicolas Flamel. They married late in life, and she was ten years his senior. A classically trained magus.

Perenelle was married twice prior to meeting and marrying Nicolas Flamel. However, a curse placed upon her family's Magic Crest ensured that misfortune befell her family line, and so all attempts at producing an heir ended in abject failure. As a result, all of her previous marriages ended similarly. Although there is no mention if she and Nicolas made any efforts at children, by that point in her life, she must have given up on ever succeeding. Her family's Magic Crest was doomed to die with her.

Consequently, it is confirmed that the Flamels never sired any offspring. They remained completely childless.

Although Perenelle did not quite have the spark of her final husband's genius, she was not without skill in magecraft, and instead of producing an heir the traditional way, perhaps she chose instead to invest all of the effort and knowledge borne by her family into seeing to Nicolas' success. She was instrumental in several of his later breakthroughs.

Naturally, having worked so closely with him, she understood and agreed to his reasoning for destroying the Philosopher's Stone their efforts created. A magus who gave up all of the things a magus would crave — it may be that, in the pursuit of the furtherance of alchemy, it was her spirit that was purified, even though her family's Magic Crest remained cursed.
 
Hereafter Material: Flamel [Noble Phantasm]
Flamel [Noble Phantasm]
Fixing the Volatile


The symbol associated with Nicolas Flamel and which bears his name. It is the likeness of a crucified snake, harkening back to biblical tales and ancient mythologies.

The most accurate summation of this Noble Phantasm's function is of a "restoration to the origin state." Utilizing a basic principle of alchemy, elements which are reactive or corrosive are removed and sterilized, and the base object is restored to balance. In the process, damage done is undone, as though time itself is unwound. A kind of anti-entropy effect.

A Noble Phantasm with little to no offensive capability, its main function is to stabilize substances and reverse destruction caused by energetic reactions, allowing Flamel himself to do such things as disperse fire, reverse oxidation, and neutralize acids. However, it can also be used for the purposes of healing, akin to the Noble Phantasm of a certain immature witch, although it is far less effective as a healing tool than that.

For instance, in the case of a curse that eats away at one's flesh or causes general sickness, it would be possible to negate such a curse, but a sword wound caused by a simple cut would be impossible to affect. Similarly, something as ambitious as raising the dead would be beyond the scope of such a Noble Phantasm.

However, Flamel himself underestimates the utility of this Noble Phantasm. Because it has become a symbol of alchemy itself, the range of things that might be affected by it is much larger than it originally would have been, and it can even be used as a kind of shortcut for other forms of alchemy. Perhaps it could even fix the fundamental flaw inherent in the creation of a homunculus.
 
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