They shall kneel, and thus they shall be saved.
-Kanmuri, the Heavy Crown of Salvation, eighth soul-progeny of the Unlimited Bladeworks
[*****]
It was professionally done.
The meeting was in a fancier restaurant, a little ways off from the nearest buildings on any side. The entire building had been reserved, and only the gang representatives and the staff were present. As a few of Shirou's men had been present for similar meetings in the past, they knew the general layout and how much manpower was likely stationed at the various entrances.
As such, when the appointed time came, the former Purple Hawks swooped in from every door at once. Guards were blackjacked or drugged into a stupor with darts. What few that managed to resist were unable to subdue their attackers, given the armor and equipment each assailant wielded. The staff had been tied up and assured that no harm would come to them. Their cooperation (and silence) was encouraged by the individual bribes of silver slipped into their bindings as they were secured. The Hawks had secured the perimeter in only five minutes with the men inside none the wiser.
Just as some of the other gang leaders were beginning to complain about needing refills for their drinks, Hawks burst into the room from all directions. The guards present were quickly overwhelmed, and the mood went from panicked to calm as soon as the leaders saw that everyone at the meeting was being restrained instead of killed outright. They bore their wrists being tied with quiet dignity, and watched as the rest of their men from outside the room were marched in, similarly bound and weaponless.
When Shirou walked in, they didn't recognize him or react beyond taking a good look at his face. He walked up to the first prisoner- one of the guards. He drew one of his swords. The man's forehead broke out in sweat. Shirou stared at him dispassionately.
"Submission, or death?" he asked.
The hapless thug glanced around. His boss' face gave no clue, and his peers in the other gang were as clueless as he was. The few men that had tried to make some noise were pushed down and threatened by their assailants, so for the time being the room was silent but for the heavy breathing of the prisoners and captors.
"I, uh, submit?" he ventured.
Shirou nodded, and cut his bonds. The man's right hand when to his left shoulder, and he winced. Then he turned an incredulous stare at Shirou and opened his mouth to speak.
"Stay quiet," Shirou muttered, before stepping to the next man and repeating the question.
The rest of the prisoners were somewhat confused, but as the next minutes passed, watched as their young assailant asked the question and freed each person that submitted. Then, after the sixth or seventh one, the leader grimaced, repeated the process one more time, and gave off a glint of green light. Most of the prisoners didn't catch it, however.
As he moved on to the tenth, the air around him became hazy with that same green light. At that point, the whispers began in earnest.
"It's him, the guy."
"The one the bosses staged this meeting to deal with?"
"Holy crap, he moved on all the gangs at once? He's fucked!"
At this point, the eleventh man given Shirou's choice smirked at the question and replied,
"Go fuck yourself."
Shirou merely looked at him for a moment, then twirled his sword into a reverse grip and swung for his neck.
"Holy-fuck-I-SUBMIT-" the blade stopped, just barely embedded in his flesh. No one watching could tell if the strike had been pulled before or after he had opened his mouth. Shirou pulled his weapon back, allowing a thin line of blood to well up. The man gasped for breath, and the glow around Shirou intensified a bit more.
After that, no one else chose death.
[***]
By the time Shirou got to the first of the color-gang bosses, he was blazing with an aura of green light.
"Submission, or death?" he intoned.
The older man, boss of the Yellow Lizards, creased his brow and made an attempt to stare down the towering, baleful presence before him.
Was he this big, earlier? The gang leader tried to figure out the brat's game, but no matter how he looked at it, it was suicide. Apparently all he had to do was say that he submits, and then he's free. Apparently he'll be allowed to walk away and regroup.
It can't be that easy.
"Sure, kid, I submit," he offered. As soon as the words left his mouth, a searing pain erupted in his left shoulder. Lines of pain traced through his entire body, and then vanished instantly, leaving only a throbbing reminder under his left sleeve. He then knew, he
knew, with absolute certainty, that if he stepped out of line he'd be roasted from the inside.
Huh. Kid's tactics make perfect sense after all. He smirked, then. It's not like his circumstances had changed much. Someone else just took hold of his leash, in the end. When the boy (well, he was fully grown, but still looked too young to be pulling off something this big) got to the next of the bosses, the Yellow Lizard leader made eye contact and nodded slightly. Soon, the five remaining bosses had each accepted the supernatural domination.
[***]
A bit later, the dinner meeting resumed as planned, but with Shirou taking the place at the head of the table. He opened discussion in an unexpected way.
"So, I'm a bit of a naive fool regarding this sort of thing, but I want to get this out in the open first: believe it or not, I'm not here to screw you guys over, or ruin you all, or otherwise make you suffer. I just used the only option I had open to me to get you all off my back."
The six bosses exchanged glances at that, and without speaking a word, seemed to come to an agreement. The man in yellow spoke up.
"Well, boy, this could have gone a lot bloodier than it did, and we all know the hold you have over us, so I think we can all agree that barring some kind of magic releasing your grip over us, you're more or less safe."
For now, the unspoken promise finished.
Shirou nodded. "Right. Which is why I'm going to be cleaning house a bit while this is all fresh. Over the next couple weeks you're going to funnel every last man in your groups by me, and they are all going to get the same deal. Or, well, they're just going to do the submission part. No need to threaten them with death if they're just following orders from their existing bosses. Once every single member of the seven colors are beholden to me, I'll be deciding our next moves. With advice, of course."
The old men exchanged glances again, and this time the one in green spoke up. "Since your little trick is compelling loyalty, I think it's relevant to your interests to let you know that you're not the only person that has held all of our leashes in this city."
Shirou's expression shifted visibly, and the bosses all felt a mild desire to scoot away from his direct scrutiny. "Oh?" he intoned.
Taking a breath, the green man continued "You are aware of the three Chosen of the Dragons who more or less control Greyfalls, correct?"
Shirou pressed his lips together in a thin line. He had heard talk of dragons, dragon-blooded, Chosen, and other such things; from context, he realized that they were so ubiquitous to this place (if not this world's) daily life that to ask the questions he had (beyond what Senbrek had already answered) would have outed him as an outsider-beyond-outsiders. He considered his words carefully, in that light, before he spoke. "To be honest, I hadn't really paid much attention to them before or after arriving here; from the perspective at the bottom, one dragon is the same as another."
The muted chuckles affirmed his guess; for the purposes of this group, 'Dragons' could be substituted for 'Plutocracy' in his vocabulary.
The man in green nodded with the chuckling and continued. "Well, the one in particular you need to know about is Nellens Rombulac, the Satrap."
Shirou's head tilted the slightest degree. "He's the, uh, regional governor from the mainland, right?" He hadn't been
completely deaf to the world the last couple weeks.
"Right. His life has gotten tougher as the political waters around here stirred up, and as a result he needs some muck-dwelling scum like us to take care of things that can't be done in the light of day."
Shirou scratched his head. "But you're all supposedly anti-Realm freedom fighters."
The man in red scoffed. "Well, of course. The monthly Realm 'patriotism' gatherings Wild Grove throws in the holiday palace are actually a place where second tier nobles plot treason and dissent. Everyone's claiming to be the opposite of what they are. What we do for Rombulac is keep the soldiers in check; we control the places they drink and fuck. We can bribe grunts, blackmail officers, and otherwise interfere with all of the shit General Cathak Kitono tries to pull inside the region. His business should be outside the walls, not in here. We make ourselves a tidy little profit along the way, and keep our heads attached to our necks in the meantime."
The blue gang leader's headdress shook as he laughed. "Yes, and look how well that turned out! Instead of an army unit or police or tax inspectors or angry monks, we were brought low by a simple man on the street we picked a fight with." He nodded to Shirou. "You hit us from the one direction we hadn't actually accounted for when this whole alliance of gangs was formalized. The Satrap was surprisingly forthright about the nature and frequency of certain crimes he was willing to overlook - as long as said crimes were carried out above a certain standard. The man's a bureaucrat to the core, but I'll be damned if he didn't just have us all arrested one day, sit us down, and lay out exactly how he wanted to restructure our operations so the everyone involved profited. Then he let us go free."
Orange waved a hand dismissively. "The big thing was for us to clean up the streets. This is the worst part. That little shit you thrashed? Was an enforcer. It was his job to clear our scum that did things like assault women at bars before the guards got involved. The biggest change I am hoping for with your little magic trick, kid, is culling all the idiots who break the rules. We can't have a knife to the throat of every piece of scum in town, but apparently you can!"
The discussion rolled on, and Shirou found it more and more difficult to focus. The big point was organizing the order each gang's members would be filed by him to submit to his power. When the talk wound down, he excused himself, sent his own men home, and left. Many details of the meeting floated in his head, but the vast majority of it didn't require direct action; once his power was applied to all members of each gang, dissent and rebellion were all but impossible. As he walked down the quiet streets, he had a sudden thought.
I know that the color gang leaders all introduced themselves, but why can't I remember any of their names?
He considered it for a while, and then suddenly realized he was at the door to the shop.
Eh, it isn't that important.
When he made it back to his room, he realized he hadn't stopped to sleep in more than a few days. It just hadn't seemed important, and he never felt tired the whole time. He still didn't, actually.
"Well, whatever. Should probably do it anyway, just so I can get back to my routine."
He undressed and laid down, imagining the countless masses of subordinates he'd recruit the next day until he fell asleep.
[*****]
Rin slammed her mug down with a bang. "Damned idiot! Fool! Imbe- be- beshile!"
Saber sighed softly, then turned to the bartender. "Hotaruzuka-san, it's time we settled our tab."
Hotaruzuka "Neko" Otoko looked up from her phone. "Huh? Oh. No. Hell no. New rule: Emiyan's girls do not pay to drink in my establishment. Get her home, Saber-san."
Saber bowed in thanks, then guided a drunk and distraught Rin out of the bar. As she compensated for her companion's stumbles, she reflected on the contrast in Rin's behavior over the last few weeks.
[***]
In the initial couple of days after Shirou, Sakura, and Shinji vanished into the void, Rin was relatively calm. Their respective thaumaturgic links to Shirou were unbroken, which meant he was still alive. It just meant that he had to be tracked down from whatever 'perverted sex dungeon her cracked-in-the-head sister had dragged him off to.' Saber decided to let her vent, knowing that her harsh words meant little. She was angry, she was focused, and she had no time to speak with Lord El-Melloi II when he arrived after the completion of his own battle.
Saber had explained the situation to him, and he left without incident, saying Tohsaka had some time to spare to seek Emiya before the Greater Grail of Fuyuki would need to be addressed in earnest. He mentioned his intent to research the Matou library now that its owner was dead before he went.
Shortly after that, the green flares had burned out both ladies' connections to Shirou, and Rin fell into despair.
That despair lasted about three days, and then she pulled herself together and met El-Melloi II at the Greater Grail's cave. He compared notes with her, and as they both suspected, the Matou contribution to the system wasn't too involved with the power source. That was all Tohsaka work. The actual controls for the Greater Grail were of Einzbern make, but as they were somewhat universal Rin and El-Melloi had little trouble pinpointing various details. Saber merely stood guard during this time, and they were able to focus while knowing they would not be interrupted.
After a week of regular visits to the cave, the two magi declared their work done for the moment. They had cut off the flow of the leyline's energy to the ritual foundation, and had gauged that the irregularly high speed at which the leylines had been drained for the last twenty years meant that there was no chance of a build-up and explosion in the next few decades. Indeed, had they not done this those leylines might have burned themselves out in the attempt to ignite the Sixth War. Apparently the Einzberns had decided not to participate, as with no Lesser Grail ready, the Command Seals had yet to appear on anyone's hands.
After that business was taken care of, El-Melloi II had returned home to London and Rin had allowed herself to break down. During the day she managed her affairs professionally, and then at night, she'd do everything she could to take her mind off of Shirou . . . which most recently tended to involve alcohol in sufficient quantities as to black her out. However, each morning she'd get up and act normal, continuing research or managing finances, never allowing her distress to compromise her work ethic.
It was a sad truth that the most traumatic experience they went through each day was eating. Every bite was a taunting reminder that Shirou was gone.
[***]
As Saber guided Rin to her bedroom (at Rin's house, as the Emiya estate was currently too painful to inhabit) and started readying her for sleep, she did her best to reply to Rin's drunken ramblings. Rin was strong, and would likely bounce back soon, but her guilt at failing to inform Shirou about Sakura - which led to the hesitation, which lead to his fall - was still crushing her. Still, this pattern wasn't good for her health, and if there was no improvement for another week Saber decided she would begin to take measures.
"Shtupid Shinji should have told ush he was gonna backshtab the shtupid wormhead - aah, Shirou, jus' come back. I promish I won't tease you as mush, I'll do anything you shay -ah, ouch!"
A flash of green lit the room for a moment, and then both women were staring at Rin's shoulder. Where once was the link to Shirou's budding of her Family Crest, now was a softly glowing sigil of two crossed swords. Rin looked like she was trying to focus on it with bleary eyes.
Saber frowned. It didn't make sense. Still, it was magecraft, was it not? With the faintest ember of hope in her heart, she whispered, "For the third time, Emiya Shirou, I affirm my oath to you."
She flinched at the stinging sensation that accompanied the second green flash of light, and saw she had a matching mark to Rin's on her own shoulder. She
knew then, somehow, that if he willed it that mark would explode. That, and if she somehow betrayed him, he would know. She considered those facts for a moment, then decided to worry about them after she had spoken to him. It's not like she could even conceive of a scenario in which she would purposely forswear herself, betray Shirou, and directly invoke his wrath.
At the sound of Rin shifting on the bed, she looked up-
"Anfang."
Rin grit her teeth as her family crest lit up on her arm and bore the pain as alcohol was slowly burned from her system. When the crest faded once more, she caught her breath, then turned sharp eyes to Saber.
"I don't care what this is or how it happened. I don't even care that it's apparently a bomb. It's magical. It's linked to Shirou. That's all that matters. I'll sleep later; I have work to do." She hopped off the bed, threw on a large sweater, and marched out of her bedroom.
Saber just smiled, then headed downstairs to the kitchen to prepare tea. It was going to be a long night.
[*****]
Shirou sat on a fancy chair, ready to begin accepting the service of the rest of the color gang members. As he considered how to most efficiently 'process' them all, he had a thought.
The last thing I remember is lying down to fall asleep.
He blinked, heartbeat picking up as he began to panic. A reflexive use of power told him the precise time of day. Early afternoon. He was definitely in one of the gang's buildings, not Thundercloud's shop. He didn't remember waking up. He didn't remember coming here.
A man poked his head through the curtains at the far end of the room. "Ah, sir? That was the last one. Did you need anything in there? A snack? Some booze?"
Shirou waved him away, and the man vanished. He then put his face in his hands.
Apparently I don't even remember magically conscripting a couple thousand men.
…
SENBREK!
Yeah, Boss?
What the hell is happening to me?
I've been telling you this whole time, Boss. You need to get to The City. Your power is growing, but it's probably not growing 'right.' Or, well, it is, but it's gonna be flakey when you're fumbling with new magic. Like the charm you just accidentally learned.
What charm?
Nightmare Fugue Vigilance. It's one of the basic ones on my list. You don't need to sleep. Ever! But if you do, it sucks and you have nightmares, and you don't actually get rested. Ah, but apparently everything gets dreamlike and faded and crappy.
Everything?
Everything. Apparently you only mostly learned it, or almost, or something. You remember your nightmares?
Shirou tried to. All he could recall were flashes. Waking up in a cold sweat. Getting dressed. Whipping up something quick to eat, the street, the doors, then -
- hundreds of supplicating faces, expressions frozen in fear -
NO!
He shook his head.
Senbrek. Is this kind of thing going to get worse before it gets better? Why didn't you warn me? He was hurt, he had to admit.
I, ah, didn't actually realize you were stumbling into the charm. You seemed pissed off at those guys, and you were busy the last few days. I didn't even suspect you had been tapping your power for it until this morning, and wasn't sure until just now.
Great. Is this like when I hurt that guy? When all this started? I . . . lost control for a bit.
Pretty much. You need the lessons on using the power, or the power will just use you.
Shirou sat in silence for a few moments. He had saved that woman, but after all the escalation, after everything that had happened since, he was more or less certain that he himself was becoming a liability for Greyfalls' peace.
Senbrek. How do I get to The City?
