NexysDhyArchen
Throne Breaker
It would certainly be an unpleasant experience if Rin tried to summon this Caster again within her Grail War. It's also fascinating to picture what sort of depiction this Grail War would have as an alternative Anime.
Theodicy (Fate/Zero, SI!Caster)
- Thread starter DiscovAres
- Start date
does our dear SI not know that servants return to the throne after the war is over? Even if they don't get killed, if a wish a made, a winner decided and the war is over, they return to the throne as the grail stops supporting them. Wanting saber, rider and potentially even lancer to survive is probably impossible if he wants to return home too, dude's gotta like, spend his wish on incarnating the servants or something if they're to survive, not every magus has enough magical energy to sustain an entire servant themselves like Rin does, and not every magus would want to, genuinely don't think kayneth would want his servant with how incompatible they seem to be, beyond like, for research purposes
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- Location
- Oklahoma
Ayyy, Seems like a romanticized Arcueid!
In other news, it seems very interesting Caster is picking at the bonds and mentalities of the Tohsaka family. With how much they were coming into their realizations, denials, and fears makes me remember Caster's FGO ability, the mad eyes or whatever. Here's hoping that won't be a twist reveal.
Caster seems to be underestimating Lancer too much, since he forgot to mention Lancer's mind controlling lovespot to his female master.
- Location
- Oklahoma
You might of missed it but he did mention it directly to his master here;
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Well, even if I think you're right that not every Master could support a Servant after the War, two things: One, Archer from Zero and Rider of Black from Apocrypha both survive, which proves to him that it's possible. Both of those have special circumstances, but Zero doesn't get into the Orphan Basement (TM) that Archer needed, and Rider of Black needed the magibabble because he wouldn't have a Master otherwise. Two, if it would be more difficult once someone got their wish, SI!Caster has no way of knowing that, because as far as he knows it has never happened.
Oh, I'm so happy someone caught that! This is just for fun, there're no deeper implications to this. (oh no, I can already hear the theory-crafting, please, god, nononono.)
Probably not? What is the connection here, though? Barbatos seems to just be a demon god from a different timeline. It's not like it's lurking in the background of the Fourth Holy Grail War, and I can't find a connection between it and Sakura or Prelati. What made you think of this?
Technically with Prelati Spellbook Caster could stay I think
That book is like a Magical Energy Reactor
Pretty Bullshit really
Problem would be Prelati-chan coming for it
That book is like a Magical Energy Reactor
Pretty Bullshit really
Problem would be Prelati-chan coming for it
if i recall, archer actually got incarnated, kinda, got hit by the black mud and granted a living human body, even if he still needed a lot of energy to stick around, hence the orphan basement, and with rider, i think it's almost certainly because astolphos master was a homunculus designed to support servants, and that he then later turned into fafnir, probably boosting his magical energy by in an insane amount would probably give him more than enough to keep astolpho around, but yeah i guess if he only knows that archer did it, and no details about how, he's gonna underestimate just how easy it is to do that
Yes he got incarnated the orphans though are to be basically able to use NP and the like because still energy requiriment
Again Gil possible have something on the Gate that could solve it but that is below him
That he got incarnated is the problem because if not he wouldn't have stayed around
Nitramy
Love! Snow! Really Magic
- Location
- Home of Our Lady of Peace and Good Voyage
After the ritual where Barbatos revives Sakura's magical circuits, she tiredly collapsed onto the ground face first, her left arm outstretched, and the image in her mind still lingering...
"...Don't you ever stop," she whispered.
Thanks to the SI's presence in this universe, what got summoned into Matou Sakura was not Barbatos the Demon Pillar, but the sentient being ruling the Ahab reactor within its namesake.
Barbatos the demon pillar knew what fate would befall it if it manifested in the world once more, and the never-ending chorus of "pages... hearts... gears... homunculi... pages... hearts... gears... homunculi..." still lingered in its many ears... which is why it delegated this task to one that shared its name.
Hopefully the girl named Sakura would not inherit its namesake's predilection towards RIPPING and TEARING, though given that it was now the girl's magic circuits, it would only be a matter of time.
Barbatos the demon pillar knew what fate would befall it if it manifested in the world once more, and the never-ending chorus of "pages... hearts... gears... homunculi... pages... hearts... gears... homunculi..." still lingered in its many ears... which is why it delegated this task to one that shared its name.
Hopefully the girl named Sakura would not inherit its namesake's predilection towards RIPPING and TEARING, though given that it was now the girl's magic circuits, it would only be a matter of time.
- Location
- Oklahoma
Can't wait for the Moon Cell sequel where Caster has to deal with Arcueid berserker!
Ah, you have invoked a curse even Angra Mainyu would shy from. After all, the jokes are the highest canon.
So now it's a matter of combing through who would know the tale well enough to write that story, and why they might have, and how their tangential reference might be foreshadowing. (It's Zelretch, he didn't intend for it to be a tragedy and thought it might make Arcueid smile, and he might show up to give a satisfying ending once the grail is dealt with.)
So there is no retribution? Zolgin meant to be vessel of Barbatos, which means that at some moment of time their personalities were the same, and Prelati couldn't meet his old friend because of Zouken in OTL 4th Grail War.
Daemons are made by sixth imaginary element, that was Sakura's original element and origin. Demons could replace limbs with their bodies.
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You're assuming alot to think there even could be, if I'm reading your concerns right. Firstly, I don't think Prelati would think to even try and awaken a Demon God for no reason. And following on from that, why would Barbatos be able to cease being an abstract, informational being, a thoughtform of magecraft, on its own, and act in retribution? If it could, I'd argue it wouldn't, because:
That's an oversimplification; he was the vessel for Barbatos in the Fourth Singularity, but Solomon created the 72 Demon Gods to serve as the pillars of magecraft; one pillar of that belonged to the family that became Makiri/Matou. And that pillar was 'Absorption', I'd argue, the central conceit of Matou magecraft. This leaves at least two possible reasons why Barbatos wouldn't do anything, if it even could.
1: Sakura's training taught her the principle of Absorption. While I haven't covered it in story, Rin was right when she speculated that not all of Sakura's magic circuits were destroyed. Therefore, Barbatos still exists, and has no reason to act.
2: The principle of Absorption exists outside of the Matou family's magecraft. Killing Zouken does not, as one might assume, harm Barbatos, which exists in multiple disciplines of magecraft, as the family naturally branched during the literal millenia since 1994 and the time of Solomon.
Even if Zouken was loadbearing, and didn't pass the principle of Absorption on to Sakura, then this still isn't a timeline wherein Animusphere wins a Grail War and creates the Chaldeas Security Organization, allowing for Goetia to start the incineration of human history. Therefore, Barbatos never has to proceed to the future to become part of the actualized Goetia, leaving, as far as I can tell, no contradiction.
This is true, but there were other factors but Zouken contributing to it.
They are, but no, Sakura's element and Origin was Hollow, the First Imaginary Element. Also, Demons are made of the Sixth Imaginary Factor, not Element. There is no Sixth Imaginary Element; the other one of two is Nothingness, or [ ].
As for the concerns about Servants surviving past the end of the War, I'd already accounted for it in my outline, I was just dancing around it to avoid spoiling things. SI!Caster does, though, remember about Gil being doused in Grail Mud and incarnating, I'll say that much, but no more. I'm trying not to spoil my own story, here.
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Chapter 9: In Which Are Spoken Two Languages of Power
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Chapter 9: In Which Are Spoken Two Languages of Power
The address where she'd been told to meet Lord El-Melloi turned out to be a dingy little noodle shop beneath an apartment building, where you probably just had to accept that you'd get food poisoning if you ate there. It wasn't the prestigious location she'd been expecting to meet a Lord of the Clocktower at, but perhaps it spoke to his strong sense of discretion that he'd deign to lower himself in order to enter a place like this. She couldn't sense Lancer within, either, which meant Lord El-Melloi had kept his promise to leave his Servant at home, as she had.
When she opened the door, the smell of garlic hit her like a physical barrier, her eyes nearly began to water, and that was before she heard the music, blaringly loud, some business with yowling string instruments over what sounded like chanting and… growls? The room was a sensory assault on every level, not helped by the way the floor stuck to her shoes as she walked.
She found Lord El-Melloi sitting in a closed booth at the very back, with his fiancée, Ms. Sophia-Ri, at his side, both facing the entrance. Casting a longing look at the cheap, plastic radio blaring out experimental symphonic J-rock or whatever, she sat down opposite the two of them, where she had an excellent view of the unwashed tiles in the kitchen. She couldn't imagine how the few regulars she'd seen before she sat down, hanging lethargically over their bowls like mules at a trough, hadn't died of some new, awful disease that incubated in the noodle batter splattered on the ceiling.
Neither Lord El-Melloi or Sophia-Ri were partial to the local cuisine either, it seemed, as Sophia-Ri had only a glass of sparkling water she hadn't touched and El-Melloi had nothing at all in front of him, save, of course, for Tiffany. His blond hair was sharply swept towards the back of his head, leaving his face dominated by a massive forehead and a chin you could cut yourself on. His eyes, currently taking her in with mild interest, were a very pale green, almost blue in the dim light, and he dressed in a long, stiff, navy blue coat and white gloves.
Bizarrely, the first thought that crossed Tiffany's mind was that Sophia-Ri was dressed like Rin, albeit with dark brown pants rather than a skirt and leggings. They both shared the same white dress shirt tied with a red ribbon; Sophia-Ri's ribbon was a bit more elaborate, half a shade further towards merlot, with puff sleeves, and shoulder pads if Tiffany didn't miss her mark. Her hair was short, fairly close to her own in length, and red, and her eyes were cedar brown. She was sitting with her legs crossed, one foot dangling out of the stall impatiently.
After a few moments of awkward silence, Tiffany deduced that Lord El-Melloi expected her to speak first. "It's an honor to meet you, milord," she tried.
"Yes, I rather suspect it would be," El-Melloi said. "My people tell me you are Tiffany Eustacia von Hohenheim, is that correct?"
"Yes, milord."
"Now, what makes you think you have anything at all to offer me?" he asked.
What? "Milord… may I speak freely?" she asked with a glance at the sparse patrons. Without a word, El-Melloi took something that looked like a chess piece out of his pocket, twisted the top like a bottle cap, and set it on the table. Then, he nodded, and she continued, the feeling of an extremely weak bounded field washing over her. She could break this thing by breathing wrong. "Though I understand that, ultimately, we are opposed in the Holy Grail War, until the endgame arrives, an alliance, though necessarily temporary, could be a great boon to us both. Surely?"
He smirked a little. "And take out all the fun?" Her incredulity must have shown because he continued. "I understand. You've heard how that foreigner took out the first Servant before anyone knew about it, and now you're shaking in your boots. But fret not: nothing from this backwater could threaten a true magus of the Clocktower. Oh, these Servants appear quite fearsome, I agree, but really, they are nothing a proper Mystic Code cannot replicate. Honestly, I considered not showing up," he said, leaning back in his seat.
He's insane. "But, the wish, milord. Surely, you cannot believe that mages who could chart a path to the Root could be so… rather, could create something as lacking as you imply?"
A chortle escaped Lord El-Melloi. "Please, don't tell me you've fallen for that? It's nonsense; yes, yes, any wish, that might imply a chance at the Root, but really. These are savages. They're nothing. They could never, or we would know of it. But I didn't want to pass up a chance to show off the power of my line; hence, it was time for a little vacation."
'Caster, the Grail leads to the Root, correct?'
'That is rather the point, Master.'
Why didn't El-Melloi believe it then? Was he really that arrogant?
"What 'fun'?" Sophia-Ri interjected. "You've hardly gone anywhere! You refuse to actually do anything, you just sat around and let Lancer do the work," she said hotly.
"Darling-"
"Don't you 'darling' me, you coward!"
"Sola, I really can't do this right now. I'm having a meeting," he indicated Tiffany, as though she wasn't less than a meter away from him, "and if you insist on coming with, can you not at least back me up?"
"And why should I?" she sneered. "You're a coward and a sneak, and not even a decent one. How much good came of that brilliant plan of yours, huh?"
"Please, Sola, let's do this later," he said, through clenched teeth.
"As I recall, you lost a Command Seal on a plan you concocted because you refused to listen to Lancer's advice! Or mine! If you'd done that, you would be the one to take out Berserker, not this, this whelp!" She jabbed a finger at Tiffany. It seemed the Clocktower rumor mill had a few details wrong, but then, she wasn't going to complain about being given full credit for a Servant's death.
In fact…
"It was tactically sound." El-Melloi forced out the words.
"Hey, metal-whelp, how did you kill Berserker? Did you sit at home, sipping tea, waiting for your Servant to do the work too?"
"I was right there, I was just invisible, Sola I was shot!" El-Melloi protested, trying not to raise his voice.
Tiffany nearly froze at being so suddenly addressed, before clearing her throat. She swore the discomfort in the air was thick enough it was running down her back. "No, miss," Tiffany said, preparing to spin a yarn she'd been threading for a couple days now. "Actually, Caster was at the docks that night to confirm that Berserker would be there as well."
Sophia-Ri frowned, uncrossing and recrossing her legs to the opposite side. "Why?"
"Because of Berserker's Master," Tiffany said with a devious grin. "You see," Caster, wait, maybe she should hold that back, "my Servant had informed me that Berserker's Master, the patriarch of the Matou family, Zouken, apparently kidnapped a young girl with great magical potential for the purposes of grooming her into his heir; as well as grooming her in… less salubrious ways."
Both El-Melloi and his fiancée wrinkled their noses a little at that.
Tiffany continued. "Naturally, I took exception. But as I had no evidence, I sought to gather some before taking more drastic action."
El-Melloi nodded. "Sensible."
"Thank you, milord. But to that end, I could not run the risk of encountering Berserker; for while you may find them no better than a Mystic Code, milord, I would not want to face the power of any Servant, let alone Berserker. Therefore, I had my Servant confirm his absence while I waited outside his Master's home." She paused for effect, laying her face in grim folds. "Much to my disgust, I found the manor to be as my Servant had described it, and the girl in the condition he'd said she'd be. I admit, I was struck by sympathy-"
A scoff from lord El-Melloi, as though to say, 'how amateurish'.
"-and attempted to free her at once. Sadly, Matou discovered me and, realizing what I had found out, tried to destroy me. After I proved that I would not be easily destroyed, he called back his Servant to the manor, and I contacted my own once I noticed."
"See, Sola, as I said, the use of Command Seals is meant to be tactical. Hoarding them does you no good when it loses you the advantage, or your life," El-Melloi said in a condescending tone that she recognized from his lectures.
In wordless rebuke, Tiffany held up her hand with its back towards the two of them, three intact Command Seals plainly visible.
"You had not need of one?" Sophia-Ri asked, a slight spark of interest in her eyes. Tiffany took it as a sign she was winning her over.
"Indeed not: my Servant was able to intervene in time without."
"Your Servant, who is Caster, then."
"Why-"
El-Melloi cracked the knuckles of his right hand one by one, cutting her off. "The Berserker and Assassin are dead," he began his explanation. "The Lancer is mine, the Saber clearly belongs to that Einzbern, and that whoreson stole my Rider. Even before you arrived, I knew your Servant was either going to be the Archer or Caster, and your little story," he bared his teeth, "just confirmed which, since my Lancer told me that the Caster left the scene once the Berserker arrived, after ruining my plan with his little prophecy. Elementary," he said.
"…You have the right of it, milord," she admitted. "I apologize; I sought to keep it secret, as we have yet to formalize any alliance." She gulped down a breath. "May I ask, how you came to the conclusion that Saber was with the Einzberns?" she asked, sensing that he wanted to complain.
Lord El-Melloi rolled his eyes. "It was simplicity itself to infer it from what happened at the docks; when I moved to disable the Saber Servant, the Einzbern was clearly acting as its Master; furthermore, that night, I was accosted twice, which tells me two things," he said. "Firstly, now, you didn't see anything that happened there, or you'd not have asked that. Second, then, at the docks I was shot with a common firearm, and after I left and you were busy playing hero, I retired to my abode in Hyatt Hotel, whereupon I was the target of a bombing from a familiar nuisance. I don't know if you're aware, but apparently-"
"It was Kiritsugu Emiya, the Magus Killer. Yes, I know," she interjected.
His eyes lit up, but not in any way that reassured her. "I see. How did Caster know that, I wonder? More prophecies? One wonders why he did not warn me."
The air was stuffy, but Tiffany still felt the temperature drop. Just slightly, as if in warning, but of what exactly she couldn't divine. "I'd prefer not to say. How is this relevant?" He gave her an unimpressed look and she rephrased. "What about this brings you to the conclusion that he is connected to that family?" she asked instead.
He sighed in disappointment, her wit apparently not up to par for him. "I told you already: my plan was to disable the Saber, and he interfered. It beggars belief that he'd be here by coincidence, as he is a very busy mercenary: hence, the Einzberns hired him to act as their Master's guardian. Who else could it be?"
Well, by her reckoning, there would only be four candidates in his mind: Velvet, Einzbern, Tohsaka or herself. Of those, only Einzbern and maybe Tohsaka made sense. "Indeed they did, although there is a quirk in that I'd share with you if this alliance comes to pass. In any case, Caster was able to intervene against Berserker in time, without my having to resort to the use of my Command Seals, though Matou was forced to spend all of his,"
Sophia-Ri scoffed a little and gave an indulgent smile. "Miss Hohenheim, this is gilding the lily a tad: I believed you until then, but that is too rich! All of his?" She laughed, a sound like little glass bells.
"Ah, but you saw Berserker's madness, did you not?" she said conspiratorially, leaning over the table.
"I did not," Sophia-Ri admitted, settling back into her seat again, once more observing Tiffany with interest. "Kayneth, dear, how mad was Berserker?" she asked without looking at him.
"Quite. He seemed powerful, though uncontrollable, as you'd expect from the name. In fact, I'd say he appeared as though cursed with madness."
"And so," Tiffany pushed on, "Matou had to use his Command Seals to force Berserker to assist him without harming to girl I had freed, who was a great asset to him- he had discretion but no strength, Berserker strength but no discretion. Once we'd defeated Berserker, despite having lost, Matou refused to give up the attack, and Caster struck him down to protect me. Then, we travelled with Rider and his Master to the Church, where the girl was healed." She finished by saying, "For the girl's safety, I'm afraid I can't reveal what became of her afterwards: not because I do not trust you, milord, milady, but because you might speak of it to one, who might speak of it to another, who might carelessly let it slip to the wrong party."
El-Melloi rolled his eyes, and Tiffany worried for a moment she'd been too audacious, before he said, "Rider. That was supposed to be my Servant before he stole my catalyst. Tell me, miss Hohenheim," he asked drolly, in a rhetorical tone, "have you ever heard the name Waver Velvet?"
Yes, my Servant mentioned it. "No, never."
A cruel smirk emerged on El-Melloi's face. "Indeed you wouldn't have: a no-name third generation magus- well, I say that, and so he claims, but really, I cannot believe even that much of him. Did you know, they say his grandmother was a kept woman, and only learned magecraft from what her keeper let slip after their copulations? What can you say to that?" he asked with a laugh.
"That she was wise to take the opportunity, and the mage foolish to give it. I am surprised she was allowed to live, given our policies of secrecy, but I have to give her credit for her ingenuity."
El-Melloi, who had clearly not been expecting an actual answer, much less one so glowing in its praise, scowled. Sophia-Ri laughed. "Oh, that's one I've never heard before! I'll have to remember it," she said, shooting a smug look at El-Melloi. "I'll say, I think I like you, miss Hohenheim. You're a damn sight better than this useless lump," she said, holding her arms under her chest and resting chin in hand. "And you were only shot at, dear," she murmured coquettishly. "I just thought I'd remind you: wouldn't do to insist on false valor in the presence of a real hero."
He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Sola," he said, though in warning or exasperation, Tiffany couldn't tell. Either way, Sophia-Ri didn't respond, she just kept smiling thinly at Tiffany.
It was obvious now, if it wasn't already, that Tiffany had been made part of whatever game went on between these two. There was simply no way Sophia-Ri would have become so fond of her so fast, if it wasn't because Tiffany represented something about what Sophia-Ri apparently found so disagreeable in her fiancé.
Perhaps she should find a way to sidestep this game. "Milord, I apologize for my candor: it was only meant in jest," she lied. "Please, tell me how you came to know of Waver Velvet?"
El-Melloi lit up, but it was a stark and merciless light, like a surgeon's headlamp. "He is- was, now, I'll ensure it- one of my students. He submitted a paper on the possibilities of modern magecraft, some tripe made of wishful thinking and pure supposition from a mind intelligent enough to know its weakness, but not educated enough to know its place. Apparently, I must have offended him by consigning it to the wastebin, and so he had the audacity to steal my Rider. No matter: once this War is over, I'll be happy to see him clean it for the rest of his days. As long as no… accidents occur during the War, of course."
A chill ran down Tiffany's spine when she realized that Lord El-Melloi had no qualms about contemplating murder in front of her because he felt she was absolutely in his power, and she wasn't sure he was entirely wrong. "Lord El-Melloi- forgive me, I have become distracted and have still yet to present my proposal for our alliance. If you'll just allow me," she said, trailing off leadingly with a slightly pained look. Please just let me get to it.
At that, he snapped out of his fantasies of vengeance, and took on a more businesslike cast once again. "I really have no interest in anything except- yes, Sola?" he said.
Sophia-Ri was holding up her hand like a student in class waiting to speak. "I would like to hear it," she said faux-sweetly. Score.
For a moment, Tiffany thought El-Melloi might bang his head against the table. Instead, he just sighed deeply. "Will you behave yourself then?"
"I might," she said, turning her head and batting her eyelashes at him.
Lord El-Melloi shot Tiffany a tired look. "What is your proposal, Ms. Hohenheim," he said, with infinite disdain.
I'll just leave, actually, Tiffany didn't say. "If you were there at the docks, you must have heard my Servant's proclamation about Archer. That was the upsell: Caster has identified that Archer is the greatest threat to anyone else winning the War, as he is monstrously powerful and connected with one of the three founders of the Holy Grail War. I'm here with the actual pitch, the formal request that we work together to take down Archer. Caster's prophecies have given me unique insight into Archer's weaknesses, and from that I assessed that Lancer would be the ideal ally in taking him down," she, uh… lied. Anybody would do, they just needed a warm body to keep Archer busy.
"Such weaknesses as…?" El-Melloi asked.
"I'm afraid that information is reserved for our allies," Tiffany said. "Should I take it this mean you're in?"
He exhaled sharply through his nose. "Hardly. I need a bit more information." He took chin in hand and looked at the ceiling for a moment. The music seemed louder than ever, and she longed to throw something sharp through the radio. Maybe she should have waited on the package from back home before coming. "How long do you foresee this alliance lasting?"
"Only until Archer is dead: Caster has been preparing for the attack, which means that could be as early a few days from now, if you prefer to move quickly." If he agreed to that, he'd still be on the hook if they only managed to break Archer's contract, although if that was how it ended, he might not feel so obligated to stick to the deal.
"And what role is my Lancer to play in this attack?" he asked.
"While Caster has many skills, he is not a frontline combatant," she said. "We were lucky at Matou House, we may not be so again."
"Ah, yes," he said. The temperature dropped further. "Thank you for reminding me." He reached into his pockets again, pulled something out and laid it on the table. "Could you tell me what this is?"
It was steel gray and sharp as a blade, but it had clearly grown organically rather than being forged, despite its precariously thin edges and point, so uncharacteristic of something that had lived in reality, like it had come right off the draughtsman's sketchbook. It had apparently also exploded or been ripped apart by something emerging from within, the entire back of it open like a blooming flower. It was the cast-off husk of a Crest Worm, after Caster was done with it.
"I found these in the Matou Manor," El-Melloi said evenly, "when I went there to investigate last night. These were all over the basements; being metal, they'd survive the fire, but they wouldn't turn out like this," he ran a finger over the warped edges of the shell, "without something more esoteric happening. What are they, miss Hohenheim?" he asked. His cold, green eyes were transformed into hazy lamplights, searching her for any weakness or error.
"…They are the cast-offs of Matou's familiars, after Caster defeated him."
"That might explain why only these metal shells remain if the flesh has dissolved without him to maintain them. It does not explain what has happened to them. Nor why your story was so lacking in explanations for what has become of the manor."
She swallowed. "The manor was destroyed in the fighting. It was a consequence of having two Servants fighting in such close quarters."
"Do not mock me, miss Hohenheim," El-Melloi said, deadly calm. "Firstly, I know well, and you just told me, that Caster is not a frontline fighter-"
She affected annoyance. "It was only a figure of speech, milord."
"-Secondly," he continued undeterred, "did you really think I wouldn't be able to detect the effluence of a fire elemental in the ashes?"
"…no, milord. It was my own, of course."
"Show it." There was no room for disagreement.
Reluctantly, she pulled her Salamander's core out of her jacket and laid it on the table, next to the shell. When El-Melloi picked it up, she resisted the urge to growl protectively, feeling the ghost of its presence curl around her, more phantom than sensation.
He held the smoky, red crystal between three fingers, like forceps. It resembled nothing so much as a glowing ember, a pure, ash blackness illuminated from within by something alive and cherry-red. With his free hand, he fished through a pocket and pulled out a golden monocle which he held to his eye, whereupon he inspected the heart through it. He hummed. "I think I do remember you, after all," he said tonelessly.
She refused to answer. There were only so many reasons a Lord of the Clocktower would have reason to remember someone as insignificant as she.
"You were one of those neophytes who killed themselves awakening their Origins," he said, putting the heart down on the table with a clink. "Rather, one of the two who didn't."
Her breath had become insubstantial and lifeless.
"What was it?" he asked.
"I'm not going to tell you. That's private," she insisted weakly. How she'd managed to speak, she'd no idea.
"There won't be an alliance if you don't," he stated, putting his monocle away.
She could almost taste Eirene's blood in her mouth again. Once, there had been more than the two of them. It had to have been worth it. It had to be. "Ruin," she said. "My Origin is Ruin."
He was less than a meter from her, but she felt like he passed behind a cloud, at once becoming occulted to her. "All that work, all those resources poured into it, most of your little book club dead at your feet, just to find that out that you'll destroy anything you touch. Poetic," he said disdainfully.
"Is that what you think it means?" she asked, and she couldn't fight the smirk bubbling up from deep within her. Awakening an Origin wasn't meant to be as… destructive as their collective attempt had been. If you knew the proper rites. Which were kept secret by the oldest families. If you had the right circuits. Which only the most powerful mages did. If you didn't fumble blindly. Because you didn't really know what you were looking for. If, all that, then awakening your Origin was merely extremely reckless. But if they wanted to be significant, what other choice did they have? What other path to power was left?
She relished the taste of Eirene's blood, because at least she'd lived. The others had died when their own bodies turned against them, a flood of ice and dark and flame and flesh and steel and stone flowing between them, over them all, while the two of them remained untouched.
"If my Origin is Ruin, that means I am its master," she said. "Once I conquered it, I could direct it, onto the many elements of this world which could do with ruining: malady and madness and malignancy. I have used its power to become worthy of the name von Hohenheim. I have used it to heal. I have used it to command the spirits. And yes, I have used it to destroy Zouken Matou." She gritted her teeth. "Just as I will use it to destroy the traitor Tokiomi Tohsaka."
They looked at her strangely. It was hard to care. The names resounded in her head, those lost when her reach had exceeded her grasp. Tom. Lu. Beth. Kell. Tom. Lu. Beth. Kell. Tom. Lu. Beth. Kell.
"Treason is a harsh accusation, miss Hohenheim," El-Melloi said. "I assume this is information given to you by Caster? Have you verified it at all?"
"He hasn't been wrong yet," she retorted. "He told me that Tohsaka was working with the Church."
A strange look, not of surprise but of understanding and resignation, unfolded on El-Melloi's face. "It is said that the current head of the Tohsaka family is as influential in the Mage's Association as he is in the Holy Church," he mused. She could feel the change in the air when he switched from interrogating her to his cool but businesslike demeanor.
"But aren't the Tohsaka's founders of the Holy Grail War?" Sophia-Ri asked. "Why would they need to do something like that?"
"Well," El-Melloi grinned maliciously, "they have been losing it for two centuries. Maybe they feel they've no other choice, now that outsiders with real power are muscling in."
It barely registered that he was insulting his supposed lessors again; supposed, indeed, as the El-Melloi family had never so much as approached the Root, nor had the Archibalds to which he had been born. But she didn't really care, anymore. She was just tired. Lord El-Melloi reigniting her old memories of hurt had left her a burnt-out husk like the one on the table. She grabbed her Salamander's core and restocked it in her jacket. "Do we have a deal," she asked dully.
El-Melloi appeared to think on this for some time, during which Tiffany couldn't help but ruminate on times gone by. The sound of crackling wood was stuck in her ears. "Firstly; I have no interest in the Archer Servant," he said at last. "My interests lie in punishing the Masters of Saber and Rider. But I would prefer to relish disciplining Velvet myself. Therefore, my counterproposal is this: assist me with removing the Saber, the Einzbern, and the Magus Killer, and I will gladly assist you in Archer's defeat. A quid pro quo, as they say."
It took everything in her not to refuse him immediately without even considering the terms, simply because he'd had the audacity, the sheer thoughtless arrogance to drag the most painful moment of her life out of her just because he felt entitled to know everything about anything. Because she was lesser. Because she was a C-rank Magus, and he was the cream of the crop. Never mind how hard she'd worked. Never mind what she'd given to come this far. Never mind the fact that he was blinded by arrogance, and she was not. He outranked her.
How she hated this.
The Church got in the way. But sometimes, it felt like the Association wasted everything it had. They should be helping people. They could save the goddamn world. And she would. She'd show them how far she could go. And then, it would all have been worth it.
'Caster. El-Melloi has made a proposal,' she sent to him, then explained briefly. Perhaps her Servant's foresight would be useful now as well.
He thought it over for a while, before finally replying, 'I refuse. Outright.'
'It is an expansion of the alliance. Surely, the tactical benefit is worth working with him.'
'I do not believe so,' he opined. 'It is very likely that we will not be able to defeat Archer outright when we attack. Therefore, we must have a back-up who could defeat Archer with our help, and we have that in Saber. Kayneth is trying to make us do it backwards. Besides,' he finished, 'he's not going to keep his promise. Once we've done his dirty work, he'll weasel out of it. If, as you say, he cares so little about this, he stands to gain nothing by taking out Archer once we've paid the piper.'
'Are you certain?' she felt compelled to ask.
'…I am. But you are free to disagree at your leisure, or indeed to use a Command Seal, if you believe this is so important as to warrant it.'
'It won't come to that,' she replied. 'Perhaps… I am perhaps not thinking clearly at the moment, but I do not overmuch want to work with El-Melloi right now.' She sighed internally. 'I suppose we will have to find another strategy then.'
'Not necessarily,' Caster relayed. 'I actually came upon something while you were gone,' he began, but she shushed him.
"Ruin, huh?" Sophia-Ri said, looking thoughtful. "As in, entropy?"
"As in, consuming flame, a crumbling tower, 'fly, you fools, fly!', foundations come undone, the ceremony of innocence is drowned, as in war and death and pestilence, as in apocalypse, miss Sophia-Ri. As in an Unconquered Sun ruling a wasted plain of baked earth." She turned her ashen-blue eyes on Lord El-Melloi. "If those are the terms, then there is no deal. Apologies," she nearly spat, "for wasting your time."
At her outburst, Sophia-Ri sunk into herself, then reached out and drained her glass of sparkling water, grimacing at the taste since it had almost certainly gone flat by now.
"Do not be hasty, miss Hohenheim. You let emotion rule you. It is unbecoming of a mage."
Do you know, sometimes I doubt you're still really human? she wondered. So many good people, crushed beneath a system held up by… frankly, by men like El-Melloi and Tohsaka and Matou. "Just as you feel no obligation to strike a deal that does not enact your own whims, I feel none to tell a future enemy anything at all. I'll be leaving-" she turned in her seat.
"Now, you look at me, miss Hohenheim," he said, reaching a hand over the table to halt her, although he didn't grab hold. "You must understand the position you're in."
Sophia-Ri rolled her eyes, gathered her purse from her seat beside her and got up. "Join me when you're finished," she said, walking off.
"Do you know what would happen to you if it came to be known that you'd killed a mage in his own home?" El-Melloi asked.
Why was he bringing that back up? "My Servant killed him," she said, "and he was a Master. He knew the risk when he signed on to the War." She nailed him with a cold stare, relishing his minute flinch. "To everyone but you, this is a matter of life and death. They're going to give it their all: if you refuse to do anything but half-ass the Grail War, you'll lose it." She smirked. "So by all means, go on."
He sneered… and then, he smirked as well.
She saw the kitchen door close. She looked around for a moment, and found that Sophia-Ri had not left the noodle shop as she'd thought, but was instead coming back from the entrance, approaching- the radio? She pressed a button on top of it, and the music, which had been hammering into her gray matter for the entire conversation, went out, leaving an eerie silence. Now in quiet, Tiffany realized:
There was no one else left in the restaurant but them.
"Apologies for the deception, miss Hohenheim. Take it as flattery on my part that you warranted it," El-Melloi said, rising from his seat like a lion from its rocky perch on the savannah. He walked, calmly, to the kitchen door, gathering a length of silver chain from his pocket, which he tied around the handle, where it began to glow a dull white. She considered doing something, somehow muscling past him and out the door, but one, he was powerful enough, and in possession of enough Mystic Codes, that it was a fool's errand, even before you considered that, two, she was quite simply outnumbered. Sophia-Ri leaned against the counter, waving at her with a satisfied little smile. It seemed to say, go on then. Prove yourself.
They'd caught her. She got up, walked into the middle of the restaurant. 'Caster, I need you to do something,' she said, taking in the silver chain around the handle of the front door and the shuttered windows as well.
'What is it, Master?' he asked, calm but concerned.
She told him what she needed.
'It'll take a few minutes, hold out till then,' he said. 'Worse comes to worst, you have to use a Command Seal.'
That was a point, actually. "What's to prevent me from summoning my Servant? Yes, you've very cunningly locked me in, but you don't honestly think you could hold Caster as well, do you?" He might do, if he really underestimated Servants as grossly as he'd stated.
Instead of answering, El-Melloi held his hand up to the roof, like a preacher giving benediction. For a moment, she wondered if he'd demonstrate some spell or Mystic Code, before she felt it. The rapid approach- no, the meteoric descent of a Servant, falling or running twenty stories down into the tiny restaurant at the bottom of the building. Within moments, Lancer was before her, kneeling in front of his Master. He was a sleek man, tastefully adorned with muscle plainly visible through his extremely tight clothes, with tousled hair, and a spot beneath his eye. When he rose and turned towards her, his face was cast in apology, as he wordlessly leveled his crimson spear at her heart.
El-Melloi had lied, without a word. He hadn't left his Servant behind, he'd hidden him, relying on Lancer's great agility to close the gap between here and the edge of her perception in moments. Snake.
"It was easy enough to convince the locals to let me do this: I believe they thought I was a gangster. What's the colloquial term again? Yu- Yakuza, that's it!" he snapped his gloved fingers (which meant he'd cheated, somehow). "They were happy to ensure that I could meet with a compatriot in relative privacy. Once we had that understanding, we also agreed that, at my signal," he ran a finger over the rim of Sophia-Ri's empty glass of sparkling water, "they'd abscond themselves. Remarkable creatures, the Japanese. So obedient." He turned his pitiless gaze on her. "I could do with a few for my own staff. Something to think about when I return to England with you."
"I'm not going anywhere without the Grail," she said, slowly backing away from him and Lancer. When El-Melloi saw, his grin widened.
He took a step forward, laying a hand on Lancer's shoulder. "Yes, you are. As for your question… I invite you to find out," he said.
Her eyes drifted to Lancer's weapon. Heh. Hardly a mystery. "But I already know, milord," she said mockingly. "Or did you think Caster wouldn't warn me about the abilities of the Servant who's Master I was going to meet with?"
The smile fell, but only a little, though Sophia-Ri's grew to compensate. "Then I trust," he said, "that I won't have to put a spear through your hand to make you see reason. Instead, you're going to order your Servant to commit suicide, and then you're going to tell me everything he told you about how to win this War."
"And as reward, I get to live?" she asked, one eyebrow raised.
Lord El-Melloi looked puzzled at that, and took another step forward, arms folded behind his back. "Goodness, no, that would be ghoulish. No, you'd have my gratitude! Quite a useful thing, for one such as yourself. The El-Melloi family has many resources, at least some of which would be made available to you. I daresay we could even help you get that Origin under control."
The fire within her seethed. She didn't want it under control, she wanted it to be stronger. "How do you figure that?"
"I recognized your handiwork in that salamander core," he said, lecturing again. "And from there, I recalled your file: yes, I see the look on your face, we do keep files for all our students, and you studied at the Department of Minerology for some time. Your case was… moderately interesting as a cautionary tale about the folly of awakening one's Origin." His lips stretched further- something so cold could not be called a smile. "It mentioned the… defect it introduced."
"My awakening raised my circuit quality by more than a full letter grade," she retorted.
"But you'd been born to flame and air! Quite a potent combination. And the awakening left you with flame alone; if you ask me, I'd have worked to save the other-"
"I know. You are not the first-" she began.
Suddenly, the kitchen door, which Lord El-Melloi had sealed, burst open- not the chain, you understand. The door burst open, a rain of splinters over El-Melloi's back, as he whirled towards it, covering his eyes with an upraised arm. Snarling, gurgling, the water demons, four of them, barreled towards her on the opposite side of the room, pseudopods rapidly slapping against the floor in an irregular rhythm. When Lancer ran them through with his spear, she could hear the hiss of dying magic, but they ran on, heedless of enemy or injury, and he grimaced.
Even as they settled at her side, two on each flank, facing the room with the windows at their back, Tiffany felt reluctant to get too close. Whatever control Caster had over these demons was rudimentary. She didn't want to see what those tentacles could do to a person; the carnage at Matou House had been gruesome enough.
But they had other qualities, which Caster had told her of after they'd summoned their first. Their immortality unless evaporated by an overwhelming strike was the most fascinating and useful by far, but most relevant right this moment was their sheer speed, and ability to squeeze through tight spaces as a liquid. It wouldn't have been even that much of a squeeze to burst through the employee toilets in the back, out of sight.
"There we are," she cooed. "Now, if it isn't too much trouble, I'll be leaving, milord," she said.
He laughed. "Really, now? Do you think your Servant's little familiars can defeat my Lancer?"
"Well, he certainly can't defeat them- he hasn't the weapon for it!" she said, a mischievous glint in her eye.
"Even if that's true," El-Melloi said, "he could still run your hand through, and sever your link to the Caster. That'd put a damper on your little escape plan, I'd wager." He'd retaken his rank posture with arms folded behind his back, trying to recapture some of his lost dignity. He needn't have bothered, in her eyes.
Also, if she'd had any doubt before, it was now obvious to her that Sophia-Ri was absolutely smitten with Lancer. She was practically drooling. Tiffany was surprised she hadn't run over to lick his abs or something. Judging by his face, El-Melloi was remaining willfully ignorant of his fiancée's intended infidelity. Couldn't happen to a nicer guy, obviously.
"Could he do it before they destroy the windows, though?" she asked, mimicking his pose and leaning forward with a dark grin of her own.
"Lancer?"
"Almost certainly," Lancer said, tightening his grip and leaning forward, like a runner before the sprint.
"Willing to stake your career on that?" Tiffany asked lightly.
If El-Melloi was shaken by her threat, he didn't show it.
"You see, I know you aren't. You think you'll have a dozen opportunities like this one, because you've had more opportunities than you knew what to do with since the moment you were born," she said with a sneer. "And so this? The chance to catch me and make me sing? Doesn't matter to you. But if I expose a streetful of normal people to magecraft on your watch, that'd be a black mark against you forever, and it would be entirely outside your control."
"That'd be the end of you, too. You're bluffing."
"Not at all. I don't need to. Caster knows how this whole War is supposed to play out," she bluffed, "and milord? You don't win. Do you want to know who does?"
That gave him pause, and he raised a hand to his chin. "So Caster lied at the docks," he surmised, waving his hand to the side as though flicking away his doubts.
"Of course he did. I told him to. Archer is the biggest obstacle, that much is true, which is why we so wanted a helping hand… even if that's not going to be you, any longer. But you didn't answer my question."
He narrowed his eyes, grin undimmed. "Why would I trust it?"
"Because you're too prideful to do otherwise when I tell you it's meant to be Kiritsugu Emiya," she said. At the same time, she asked 'Caster, what happens to El-Melloi and Sophia-Ri?'
"I'm not about to let that happen," he said with an indulgent tone. "Be serious?"
It was exactly what she'd hoped for and expected he'd say. "He did mean for you to die in Hyatt Hotel," she began. "But he'd planned for what he'd do if you didn't. He planned to get his hands on Sophia-Ri," she nodded towards her, who perked up at the mention of her name, pulled from fantasies of Lancer. "Now, you've fought, at this point- you'd managed to get your shot at Saber, wounding her hand, but he still blew you up, so you wanted revenge- and he got you good. I see your expression: yes, even through that mercury shield. An Origin Bullet, he calls them, made from his own ribs.
"They fry every last one of your magic circuits. You're powerless. And now he's got Sola," she used his nickname for her, "and you gave Lancer to Sola because you couldn't continue the War yourself. It wasn't really a negotiation, but still. He has Sola, and you have no more options.
"So you agree to the contract, the geas he presents you with: you'll order Lancer's suicide, and he'll free Sola and not harm either of you ever again." She let her smile fade away. "After all, however much she rankles you, whatever insults she hurls your way, you'd do anything for her. You love her."
El-Melloi stood, frozen, his mouth opening and closing like a stranded fish. Sophia-Ri looked at him, wide-eyed in shock and confusion.
"And then his assistant shoots you both in the back," she finished darkly. "Sola is lucky. She dies right away. You lie there, writhing, begging him to kill you- but you know the contract. No can do."
His hands were shaking minutely. Something in what she'd said… no, it wasn't a nebulous something, it was the parts of himself he recognized in the story, the parts where his animal hindbrain went yes, that's right, that's what you'd do, that hooked him in. It was something she could only imagine, as she had never herself starred in Caster's prophecies. It was a… tragic madness, like unto the Greek kings of old. "W-what are you?" he asked.
"I'm leaving now," she answered. Sophia-Ri nervously giggled at that, still unable to tear her eyes from her fiancé.
"Y-You! Do you realize what this means?!" he yelled as she walked past him, towards the broken kitchen door, her steps ringing out in the suffocating air. Lancer's gaze roved from her to El-Melloi and back again rapidly, unable to come to a decision, or at least unable to divine his Master's will.
"Nothing at all. It is, as it ever was, War. War to the knife." And then she stepped over the splintered frame, the water demons trailing behind her.
"I- Lancer- get her!" El-Melloi screamed.
"I wouldn't do that either," she said quickly. Hopefully not too quickly. She needed to stay intimidating. "At least, not if you're unwilling to stake your life on it?" She bluffed again: "You know that Caster was without a Master until he found me? Oh, he can't live forever like that, but long enough to avenge me? That, he can do," she lied. "Independent Action, they call it. The Cavalry Classes are a little looser around Class Skills, turns out. Guess that's why they made them. Easier to cheat the system." She turned her head back towards him and tried not to flinch at seeing Lancer's spear inches from her back, his body wound like a spring. "I thought you'd know all about it?"
She turned back, kept walking, didn't look back again. That way, if Lancer called her bluff, she wouldn't know it until she was dead. But eventually, she made it out into the back alley that the restaurant kitchen opened up into. The staff were nowhere to be seen, but she shrugged it off.
'So, did you have a plan?' There were still a few hours before sundown. Time enough to grab those supplies her father had sent over.
'Indeed I do, Master.'
Good.
She tsked. It was moments like these she regretted giving up smoking.
Happy New Year! Here's to even more of this fic coming out at the exact same rate as usual! Hope you're looking forward to it.
Much like last year, I am still cross-posting on AO3.
The address where she'd been told to meet Lord El-Melloi turned out to be a dingy little noodle shop beneath an apartment building, where you probably just had to accept that you'd get food poisoning if you ate there. It wasn't the prestigious location she'd been expecting to meet a Lord of the Clocktower at, but perhaps it spoke to his strong sense of discretion that he'd deign to lower himself in order to enter a place like this. She couldn't sense Lancer within, either, which meant Lord El-Melloi had kept his promise to leave his Servant at home, as she had.
When she opened the door, the smell of garlic hit her like a physical barrier, her eyes nearly began to water, and that was before she heard the music, blaringly loud, some business with yowling string instruments over what sounded like chanting and… growls? The room was a sensory assault on every level, not helped by the way the floor stuck to her shoes as she walked.
She found Lord El-Melloi sitting in a closed booth at the very back, with his fiancée, Ms. Sophia-Ri, at his side, both facing the entrance. Casting a longing look at the cheap, plastic radio blaring out experimental symphonic J-rock or whatever, she sat down opposite the two of them, where she had an excellent view of the unwashed tiles in the kitchen. She couldn't imagine how the few regulars she'd seen before she sat down, hanging lethargically over their bowls like mules at a trough, hadn't died of some new, awful disease that incubated in the noodle batter splattered on the ceiling.
Neither Lord El-Melloi or Sophia-Ri were partial to the local cuisine either, it seemed, as Sophia-Ri had only a glass of sparkling water she hadn't touched and El-Melloi had nothing at all in front of him, save, of course, for Tiffany. His blond hair was sharply swept towards the back of his head, leaving his face dominated by a massive forehead and a chin you could cut yourself on. His eyes, currently taking her in with mild interest, were a very pale green, almost blue in the dim light, and he dressed in a long, stiff, navy blue coat and white gloves.
Bizarrely, the first thought that crossed Tiffany's mind was that Sophia-Ri was dressed like Rin, albeit with dark brown pants rather than a skirt and leggings. They both shared the same white dress shirt tied with a red ribbon; Sophia-Ri's ribbon was a bit more elaborate, half a shade further towards merlot, with puff sleeves, and shoulder pads if Tiffany didn't miss her mark. Her hair was short, fairly close to her own in length, and red, and her eyes were cedar brown. She was sitting with her legs crossed, one foot dangling out of the stall impatiently.
After a few moments of awkward silence, Tiffany deduced that Lord El-Melloi expected her to speak first. "It's an honor to meet you, milord," she tried.
"Yes, I rather suspect it would be," El-Melloi said. "My people tell me you are Tiffany Eustacia von Hohenheim, is that correct?"
"Yes, milord."
"Now, what makes you think you have anything at all to offer me?" he asked.
What? "Milord… may I speak freely?" she asked with a glance at the sparse patrons. Without a word, El-Melloi took something that looked like a chess piece out of his pocket, twisted the top like a bottle cap, and set it on the table. Then, he nodded, and she continued, the feeling of an extremely weak bounded field washing over her. She could break this thing by breathing wrong. "Though I understand that, ultimately, we are opposed in the Holy Grail War, until the endgame arrives, an alliance, though necessarily temporary, could be a great boon to us both. Surely?"
He smirked a little. "And take out all the fun?" Her incredulity must have shown because he continued. "I understand. You've heard how that foreigner took out the first Servant before anyone knew about it, and now you're shaking in your boots. But fret not: nothing from this backwater could threaten a true magus of the Clocktower. Oh, these Servants appear quite fearsome, I agree, but really, they are nothing a proper Mystic Code cannot replicate. Honestly, I considered not showing up," he said, leaning back in his seat.
He's insane. "But, the wish, milord. Surely, you cannot believe that mages who could chart a path to the Root could be so… rather, could create something as lacking as you imply?"
A chortle escaped Lord El-Melloi. "Please, don't tell me you've fallen for that? It's nonsense; yes, yes, any wish, that might imply a chance at the Root, but really. These are savages. They're nothing. They could never, or we would know of it. But I didn't want to pass up a chance to show off the power of my line; hence, it was time for a little vacation."
'Caster, the Grail leads to the Root, correct?'
'That is rather the point, Master.'
Why didn't El-Melloi believe it then? Was he really that arrogant?
"What 'fun'?" Sophia-Ri interjected. "You've hardly gone anywhere! You refuse to actually do anything, you just sat around and let Lancer do the work," she said hotly.
"Darling-"
"Don't you 'darling' me, you coward!"
"Sola, I really can't do this right now. I'm having a meeting," he indicated Tiffany, as though she wasn't less than a meter away from him, "and if you insist on coming with, can you not at least back me up?"
"And why should I?" she sneered. "You're a coward and a sneak, and not even a decent one. How much good came of that brilliant plan of yours, huh?"
"Please, Sola, let's do this later," he said, through clenched teeth.
"As I recall, you lost a Command Seal on a plan you concocted because you refused to listen to Lancer's advice! Or mine! If you'd done that, you would be the one to take out Berserker, not this, this whelp!" She jabbed a finger at Tiffany. It seemed the Clocktower rumor mill had a few details wrong, but then, she wasn't going to complain about being given full credit for a Servant's death.
In fact…
"It was tactically sound." El-Melloi forced out the words.
"Hey, metal-whelp, how did you kill Berserker? Did you sit at home, sipping tea, waiting for your Servant to do the work too?"
"I was right there, I was just invisible, Sola I was shot!" El-Melloi protested, trying not to raise his voice.
Tiffany nearly froze at being so suddenly addressed, before clearing her throat. She swore the discomfort in the air was thick enough it was running down her back. "No, miss," Tiffany said, preparing to spin a yarn she'd been threading for a couple days now. "Actually, Caster was at the docks that night to confirm that Berserker would be there as well."
Sophia-Ri frowned, uncrossing and recrossing her legs to the opposite side. "Why?"
"Because of Berserker's Master," Tiffany said with a devious grin. "You see," Caster, wait, maybe she should hold that back, "my Servant had informed me that Berserker's Master, the patriarch of the Matou family, Zouken, apparently kidnapped a young girl with great magical potential for the purposes of grooming her into his heir; as well as grooming her in… less salubrious ways."
Both El-Melloi and his fiancée wrinkled their noses a little at that.
Tiffany continued. "Naturally, I took exception. But as I had no evidence, I sought to gather some before taking more drastic action."
El-Melloi nodded. "Sensible."
"Thank you, milord. But to that end, I could not run the risk of encountering Berserker; for while you may find them no better than a Mystic Code, milord, I would not want to face the power of any Servant, let alone Berserker. Therefore, I had my Servant confirm his absence while I waited outside his Master's home." She paused for effect, laying her face in grim folds. "Much to my disgust, I found the manor to be as my Servant had described it, and the girl in the condition he'd said she'd be. I admit, I was struck by sympathy-"
A scoff from lord El-Melloi, as though to say, 'how amateurish'.
"-and attempted to free her at once. Sadly, Matou discovered me and, realizing what I had found out, tried to destroy me. After I proved that I would not be easily destroyed, he called back his Servant to the manor, and I contacted my own once I noticed."
"See, Sola, as I said, the use of Command Seals is meant to be tactical. Hoarding them does you no good when it loses you the advantage, or your life," El-Melloi said in a condescending tone that she recognized from his lectures.
In wordless rebuke, Tiffany held up her hand with its back towards the two of them, three intact Command Seals plainly visible.
"You had not need of one?" Sophia-Ri asked, a slight spark of interest in her eyes. Tiffany took it as a sign she was winning her over.
"Indeed not: my Servant was able to intervene in time without."
"Your Servant, who is Caster, then."
"Why-"
El-Melloi cracked the knuckles of his right hand one by one, cutting her off. "The Berserker and Assassin are dead," he began his explanation. "The Lancer is mine, the Saber clearly belongs to that Einzbern, and that whoreson stole my Rider. Even before you arrived, I knew your Servant was either going to be the Archer or Caster, and your little story," he bared his teeth, "just confirmed which, since my Lancer told me that the Caster left the scene once the Berserker arrived, after ruining my plan with his little prophecy. Elementary," he said.
"…You have the right of it, milord," she admitted. "I apologize; I sought to keep it secret, as we have yet to formalize any alliance." She gulped down a breath. "May I ask, how you came to the conclusion that Saber was with the Einzberns?" she asked, sensing that he wanted to complain.
Lord El-Melloi rolled his eyes. "It was simplicity itself to infer it from what happened at the docks; when I moved to disable the Saber Servant, the Einzbern was clearly acting as its Master; furthermore, that night, I was accosted twice, which tells me two things," he said. "Firstly, now, you didn't see anything that happened there, or you'd not have asked that. Second, then, at the docks I was shot with a common firearm, and after I left and you were busy playing hero, I retired to my abode in Hyatt Hotel, whereupon I was the target of a bombing from a familiar nuisance. I don't know if you're aware, but apparently-"
"It was Kiritsugu Emiya, the Magus Killer. Yes, I know," she interjected.
His eyes lit up, but not in any way that reassured her. "I see. How did Caster know that, I wonder? More prophecies? One wonders why he did not warn me."
The air was stuffy, but Tiffany still felt the temperature drop. Just slightly, as if in warning, but of what exactly she couldn't divine. "I'd prefer not to say. How is this relevant?" He gave her an unimpressed look and she rephrased. "What about this brings you to the conclusion that he is connected to that family?" she asked instead.
He sighed in disappointment, her wit apparently not up to par for him. "I told you already: my plan was to disable the Saber, and he interfered. It beggars belief that he'd be here by coincidence, as he is a very busy mercenary: hence, the Einzberns hired him to act as their Master's guardian. Who else could it be?"
Well, by her reckoning, there would only be four candidates in his mind: Velvet, Einzbern, Tohsaka or herself. Of those, only Einzbern and maybe Tohsaka made sense. "Indeed they did, although there is a quirk in that I'd share with you if this alliance comes to pass. In any case, Caster was able to intervene against Berserker in time, without my having to resort to the use of my Command Seals, though Matou was forced to spend all of his,"
Sophia-Ri scoffed a little and gave an indulgent smile. "Miss Hohenheim, this is gilding the lily a tad: I believed you until then, but that is too rich! All of his?" She laughed, a sound like little glass bells.
"Ah, but you saw Berserker's madness, did you not?" she said conspiratorially, leaning over the table.
"I did not," Sophia-Ri admitted, settling back into her seat again, once more observing Tiffany with interest. "Kayneth, dear, how mad was Berserker?" she asked without looking at him.
"Quite. He seemed powerful, though uncontrollable, as you'd expect from the name. In fact, I'd say he appeared as though cursed with madness."
"And so," Tiffany pushed on, "Matou had to use his Command Seals to force Berserker to assist him without harming to girl I had freed, who was a great asset to him- he had discretion but no strength, Berserker strength but no discretion. Once we'd defeated Berserker, despite having lost, Matou refused to give up the attack, and Caster struck him down to protect me. Then, we travelled with Rider and his Master to the Church, where the girl was healed." She finished by saying, "For the girl's safety, I'm afraid I can't reveal what became of her afterwards: not because I do not trust you, milord, milady, but because you might speak of it to one, who might speak of it to another, who might carelessly let it slip to the wrong party."
El-Melloi rolled his eyes, and Tiffany worried for a moment she'd been too audacious, before he said, "Rider. That was supposed to be my Servant before he stole my catalyst. Tell me, miss Hohenheim," he asked drolly, in a rhetorical tone, "have you ever heard the name Waver Velvet?"
Yes, my Servant mentioned it. "No, never."
A cruel smirk emerged on El-Melloi's face. "Indeed you wouldn't have: a no-name third generation magus- well, I say that, and so he claims, but really, I cannot believe even that much of him. Did you know, they say his grandmother was a kept woman, and only learned magecraft from what her keeper let slip after their copulations? What can you say to that?" he asked with a laugh.
"That she was wise to take the opportunity, and the mage foolish to give it. I am surprised she was allowed to live, given our policies of secrecy, but I have to give her credit for her ingenuity."
El-Melloi, who had clearly not been expecting an actual answer, much less one so glowing in its praise, scowled. Sophia-Ri laughed. "Oh, that's one I've never heard before! I'll have to remember it," she said, shooting a smug look at El-Melloi. "I'll say, I think I like you, miss Hohenheim. You're a damn sight better than this useless lump," she said, holding her arms under her chest and resting chin in hand. "And you were only shot at, dear," she murmured coquettishly. "I just thought I'd remind you: wouldn't do to insist on false valor in the presence of a real hero."
He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Sola," he said, though in warning or exasperation, Tiffany couldn't tell. Either way, Sophia-Ri didn't respond, she just kept smiling thinly at Tiffany.
It was obvious now, if it wasn't already, that Tiffany had been made part of whatever game went on between these two. There was simply no way Sophia-Ri would have become so fond of her so fast, if it wasn't because Tiffany represented something about what Sophia-Ri apparently found so disagreeable in her fiancé.
Perhaps she should find a way to sidestep this game. "Milord, I apologize for my candor: it was only meant in jest," she lied. "Please, tell me how you came to know of Waver Velvet?"
El-Melloi lit up, but it was a stark and merciless light, like a surgeon's headlamp. "He is- was, now, I'll ensure it- one of my students. He submitted a paper on the possibilities of modern magecraft, some tripe made of wishful thinking and pure supposition from a mind intelligent enough to know its weakness, but not educated enough to know its place. Apparently, I must have offended him by consigning it to the wastebin, and so he had the audacity to steal my Rider. No matter: once this War is over, I'll be happy to see him clean it for the rest of his days. As long as no… accidents occur during the War, of course."
A chill ran down Tiffany's spine when she realized that Lord El-Melloi had no qualms about contemplating murder in front of her because he felt she was absolutely in his power, and she wasn't sure he was entirely wrong. "Lord El-Melloi- forgive me, I have become distracted and have still yet to present my proposal for our alliance. If you'll just allow me," she said, trailing off leadingly with a slightly pained look. Please just let me get to it.
At that, he snapped out of his fantasies of vengeance, and took on a more businesslike cast once again. "I really have no interest in anything except- yes, Sola?" he said.
Sophia-Ri was holding up her hand like a student in class waiting to speak. "I would like to hear it," she said faux-sweetly. Score.
For a moment, Tiffany thought El-Melloi might bang his head against the table. Instead, he just sighed deeply. "Will you behave yourself then?"
"I might," she said, turning her head and batting her eyelashes at him.
Lord El-Melloi shot Tiffany a tired look. "What is your proposal, Ms. Hohenheim," he said, with infinite disdain.
I'll just leave, actually, Tiffany didn't say. "If you were there at the docks, you must have heard my Servant's proclamation about Archer. That was the upsell: Caster has identified that Archer is the greatest threat to anyone else winning the War, as he is monstrously powerful and connected with one of the three founders of the Holy Grail War. I'm here with the actual pitch, the formal request that we work together to take down Archer. Caster's prophecies have given me unique insight into Archer's weaknesses, and from that I assessed that Lancer would be the ideal ally in taking him down," she, uh… lied. Anybody would do, they just needed a warm body to keep Archer busy.
"Such weaknesses as…?" El-Melloi asked.
"I'm afraid that information is reserved for our allies," Tiffany said. "Should I take it this mean you're in?"
He exhaled sharply through his nose. "Hardly. I need a bit more information." He took chin in hand and looked at the ceiling for a moment. The music seemed louder than ever, and she longed to throw something sharp through the radio. Maybe she should have waited on the package from back home before coming. "How long do you foresee this alliance lasting?"
"Only until Archer is dead: Caster has been preparing for the attack, which means that could be as early a few days from now, if you prefer to move quickly." If he agreed to that, he'd still be on the hook if they only managed to break Archer's contract, although if that was how it ended, he might not feel so obligated to stick to the deal.
"And what role is my Lancer to play in this attack?" he asked.
"While Caster has many skills, he is not a frontline combatant," she said. "We were lucky at Matou House, we may not be so again."
"Ah, yes," he said. The temperature dropped further. "Thank you for reminding me." He reached into his pockets again, pulled something out and laid it on the table. "Could you tell me what this is?"
It was steel gray and sharp as a blade, but it had clearly grown organically rather than being forged, despite its precariously thin edges and point, so uncharacteristic of something that had lived in reality, like it had come right off the draughtsman's sketchbook. It had apparently also exploded or been ripped apart by something emerging from within, the entire back of it open like a blooming flower. It was the cast-off husk of a Crest Worm, after Caster was done with it.
"I found these in the Matou Manor," El-Melloi said evenly, "when I went there to investigate last night. These were all over the basements; being metal, they'd survive the fire, but they wouldn't turn out like this," he ran a finger over the warped edges of the shell, "without something more esoteric happening. What are they, miss Hohenheim?" he asked. His cold, green eyes were transformed into hazy lamplights, searching her for any weakness or error.
"…They are the cast-offs of Matou's familiars, after Caster defeated him."
"That might explain why only these metal shells remain if the flesh has dissolved without him to maintain them. It does not explain what has happened to them. Nor why your story was so lacking in explanations for what has become of the manor."
She swallowed. "The manor was destroyed in the fighting. It was a consequence of having two Servants fighting in such close quarters."
"Do not mock me, miss Hohenheim," El-Melloi said, deadly calm. "Firstly, I know well, and you just told me, that Caster is not a frontline fighter-"
She affected annoyance. "It was only a figure of speech, milord."
"-Secondly," he continued undeterred, "did you really think I wouldn't be able to detect the effluence of a fire elemental in the ashes?"
"…no, milord. It was my own, of course."
"Show it." There was no room for disagreement.
Reluctantly, she pulled her Salamander's core out of her jacket and laid it on the table, next to the shell. When El-Melloi picked it up, she resisted the urge to growl protectively, feeling the ghost of its presence curl around her, more phantom than sensation.
He held the smoky, red crystal between three fingers, like forceps. It resembled nothing so much as a glowing ember, a pure, ash blackness illuminated from within by something alive and cherry-red. With his free hand, he fished through a pocket and pulled out a golden monocle which he held to his eye, whereupon he inspected the heart through it. He hummed. "I think I do remember you, after all," he said tonelessly.
She refused to answer. There were only so many reasons a Lord of the Clocktower would have reason to remember someone as insignificant as she.
"You were one of those neophytes who killed themselves awakening their Origins," he said, putting the heart down on the table with a clink. "Rather, one of the two who didn't."
Her breath had become insubstantial and lifeless.
"What was it?" he asked.
"I'm not going to tell you. That's private," she insisted weakly. How she'd managed to speak, she'd no idea.
"There won't be an alliance if you don't," he stated, putting his monocle away.
She could almost taste Eirene's blood in her mouth again. Once, there had been more than the two of them. It had to have been worth it. It had to be. "Ruin," she said. "My Origin is Ruin."
He was less than a meter from her, but she felt like he passed behind a cloud, at once becoming occulted to her. "All that work, all those resources poured into it, most of your little book club dead at your feet, just to find that out that you'll destroy anything you touch. Poetic," he said disdainfully.
"Is that what you think it means?" she asked, and she couldn't fight the smirk bubbling up from deep within her. Awakening an Origin wasn't meant to be as… destructive as their collective attempt had been. If you knew the proper rites. Which were kept secret by the oldest families. If you had the right circuits. Which only the most powerful mages did. If you didn't fumble blindly. Because you didn't really know what you were looking for. If, all that, then awakening your Origin was merely extremely reckless. But if they wanted to be significant, what other choice did they have? What other path to power was left?
She relished the taste of Eirene's blood, because at least she'd lived. The others had died when their own bodies turned against them, a flood of ice and dark and flame and flesh and steel and stone flowing between them, over them all, while the two of them remained untouched.
"If my Origin is Ruin, that means I am its master," she said. "Once I conquered it, I could direct it, onto the many elements of this world which could do with ruining: malady and madness and malignancy. I have used its power to become worthy of the name von Hohenheim. I have used it to heal. I have used it to command the spirits. And yes, I have used it to destroy Zouken Matou." She gritted her teeth. "Just as I will use it to destroy the traitor Tokiomi Tohsaka."
They looked at her strangely. It was hard to care. The names resounded in her head, those lost when her reach had exceeded her grasp. Tom. Lu. Beth. Kell. Tom. Lu. Beth. Kell. Tom. Lu. Beth. Kell.
"Treason is a harsh accusation, miss Hohenheim," El-Melloi said. "I assume this is information given to you by Caster? Have you verified it at all?"
"He hasn't been wrong yet," she retorted. "He told me that Tohsaka was working with the Church."
A strange look, not of surprise but of understanding and resignation, unfolded on El-Melloi's face. "It is said that the current head of the Tohsaka family is as influential in the Mage's Association as he is in the Holy Church," he mused. She could feel the change in the air when he switched from interrogating her to his cool but businesslike demeanor.
"But aren't the Tohsaka's founders of the Holy Grail War?" Sophia-Ri asked. "Why would they need to do something like that?"
"Well," El-Melloi grinned maliciously, "they have been losing it for two centuries. Maybe they feel they've no other choice, now that outsiders with real power are muscling in."
It barely registered that he was insulting his supposed lessors again; supposed, indeed, as the El-Melloi family had never so much as approached the Root, nor had the Archibalds to which he had been born. But she didn't really care, anymore. She was just tired. Lord El-Melloi reigniting her old memories of hurt had left her a burnt-out husk like the one on the table. She grabbed her Salamander's core and restocked it in her jacket. "Do we have a deal," she asked dully.
El-Melloi appeared to think on this for some time, during which Tiffany couldn't help but ruminate on times gone by. The sound of crackling wood was stuck in her ears. "Firstly; I have no interest in the Archer Servant," he said at last. "My interests lie in punishing the Masters of Saber and Rider. But I would prefer to relish disciplining Velvet myself. Therefore, my counterproposal is this: assist me with removing the Saber, the Einzbern, and the Magus Killer, and I will gladly assist you in Archer's defeat. A quid pro quo, as they say."
It took everything in her not to refuse him immediately without even considering the terms, simply because he'd had the audacity, the sheer thoughtless arrogance to drag the most painful moment of her life out of her just because he felt entitled to know everything about anything. Because she was lesser. Because she was a C-rank Magus, and he was the cream of the crop. Never mind how hard she'd worked. Never mind what she'd given to come this far. Never mind the fact that he was blinded by arrogance, and she was not. He outranked her.
How she hated this.
The Church got in the way. But sometimes, it felt like the Association wasted everything it had. They should be helping people. They could save the goddamn world. And she would. She'd show them how far she could go. And then, it would all have been worth it.
'Caster. El-Melloi has made a proposal,' she sent to him, then explained briefly. Perhaps her Servant's foresight would be useful now as well.
He thought it over for a while, before finally replying, 'I refuse. Outright.'
'It is an expansion of the alliance. Surely, the tactical benefit is worth working with him.'
'I do not believe so,' he opined. 'It is very likely that we will not be able to defeat Archer outright when we attack. Therefore, we must have a back-up who could defeat Archer with our help, and we have that in Saber. Kayneth is trying to make us do it backwards. Besides,' he finished, 'he's not going to keep his promise. Once we've done his dirty work, he'll weasel out of it. If, as you say, he cares so little about this, he stands to gain nothing by taking out Archer once we've paid the piper.'
'Are you certain?' she felt compelled to ask.
'…I am. But you are free to disagree at your leisure, or indeed to use a Command Seal, if you believe this is so important as to warrant it.'
'It won't come to that,' she replied. 'Perhaps… I am perhaps not thinking clearly at the moment, but I do not overmuch want to work with El-Melloi right now.' She sighed internally. 'I suppose we will have to find another strategy then.'
'Not necessarily,' Caster relayed. 'I actually came upon something while you were gone,' he began, but she shushed him.
"Ruin, huh?" Sophia-Ri said, looking thoughtful. "As in, entropy?"
"As in, consuming flame, a crumbling tower, 'fly, you fools, fly!', foundations come undone, the ceremony of innocence is drowned, as in war and death and pestilence, as in apocalypse, miss Sophia-Ri. As in an Unconquered Sun ruling a wasted plain of baked earth." She turned her ashen-blue eyes on Lord El-Melloi. "If those are the terms, then there is no deal. Apologies," she nearly spat, "for wasting your time."
At her outburst, Sophia-Ri sunk into herself, then reached out and drained her glass of sparkling water, grimacing at the taste since it had almost certainly gone flat by now.
"Do not be hasty, miss Hohenheim. You let emotion rule you. It is unbecoming of a mage."
Do you know, sometimes I doubt you're still really human? she wondered. So many good people, crushed beneath a system held up by… frankly, by men like El-Melloi and Tohsaka and Matou. "Just as you feel no obligation to strike a deal that does not enact your own whims, I feel none to tell a future enemy anything at all. I'll be leaving-" she turned in her seat.
"Now, you look at me, miss Hohenheim," he said, reaching a hand over the table to halt her, although he didn't grab hold. "You must understand the position you're in."
Sophia-Ri rolled her eyes, gathered her purse from her seat beside her and got up. "Join me when you're finished," she said, walking off.
"Do you know what would happen to you if it came to be known that you'd killed a mage in his own home?" El-Melloi asked.
Why was he bringing that back up? "My Servant killed him," she said, "and he was a Master. He knew the risk when he signed on to the War." She nailed him with a cold stare, relishing his minute flinch. "To everyone but you, this is a matter of life and death. They're going to give it their all: if you refuse to do anything but half-ass the Grail War, you'll lose it." She smirked. "So by all means, go on."
He sneered… and then, he smirked as well.
She saw the kitchen door close. She looked around for a moment, and found that Sophia-Ri had not left the noodle shop as she'd thought, but was instead coming back from the entrance, approaching- the radio? She pressed a button on top of it, and the music, which had been hammering into her gray matter for the entire conversation, went out, leaving an eerie silence. Now in quiet, Tiffany realized:
There was no one else left in the restaurant but them.
"Apologies for the deception, miss Hohenheim. Take it as flattery on my part that you warranted it," El-Melloi said, rising from his seat like a lion from its rocky perch on the savannah. He walked, calmly, to the kitchen door, gathering a length of silver chain from his pocket, which he tied around the handle, where it began to glow a dull white. She considered doing something, somehow muscling past him and out the door, but one, he was powerful enough, and in possession of enough Mystic Codes, that it was a fool's errand, even before you considered that, two, she was quite simply outnumbered. Sophia-Ri leaned against the counter, waving at her with a satisfied little smile. It seemed to say, go on then. Prove yourself.
They'd caught her. She got up, walked into the middle of the restaurant. 'Caster, I need you to do something,' she said, taking in the silver chain around the handle of the front door and the shuttered windows as well.
'What is it, Master?' he asked, calm but concerned.
She told him what she needed.
'It'll take a few minutes, hold out till then,' he said. 'Worse comes to worst, you have to use a Command Seal.'
That was a point, actually. "What's to prevent me from summoning my Servant? Yes, you've very cunningly locked me in, but you don't honestly think you could hold Caster as well, do you?" He might do, if he really underestimated Servants as grossly as he'd stated.
Instead of answering, El-Melloi held his hand up to the roof, like a preacher giving benediction. For a moment, she wondered if he'd demonstrate some spell or Mystic Code, before she felt it. The rapid approach- no, the meteoric descent of a Servant, falling or running twenty stories down into the tiny restaurant at the bottom of the building. Within moments, Lancer was before her, kneeling in front of his Master. He was a sleek man, tastefully adorned with muscle plainly visible through his extremely tight clothes, with tousled hair, and a spot beneath his eye. When he rose and turned towards her, his face was cast in apology, as he wordlessly leveled his crimson spear at her heart.
El-Melloi had lied, without a word. He hadn't left his Servant behind, he'd hidden him, relying on Lancer's great agility to close the gap between here and the edge of her perception in moments. Snake.
"It was easy enough to convince the locals to let me do this: I believe they thought I was a gangster. What's the colloquial term again? Yu- Yakuza, that's it!" he snapped his gloved fingers (which meant he'd cheated, somehow). "They were happy to ensure that I could meet with a compatriot in relative privacy. Once we had that understanding, we also agreed that, at my signal," he ran a finger over the rim of Sophia-Ri's empty glass of sparkling water, "they'd abscond themselves. Remarkable creatures, the Japanese. So obedient." He turned his pitiless gaze on her. "I could do with a few for my own staff. Something to think about when I return to England with you."
"I'm not going anywhere without the Grail," she said, slowly backing away from him and Lancer. When El-Melloi saw, his grin widened.
He took a step forward, laying a hand on Lancer's shoulder. "Yes, you are. As for your question… I invite you to find out," he said.
Her eyes drifted to Lancer's weapon. Heh. Hardly a mystery. "But I already know, milord," she said mockingly. "Or did you think Caster wouldn't warn me about the abilities of the Servant who's Master I was going to meet with?"
The smile fell, but only a little, though Sophia-Ri's grew to compensate. "Then I trust," he said, "that I won't have to put a spear through your hand to make you see reason. Instead, you're going to order your Servant to commit suicide, and then you're going to tell me everything he told you about how to win this War."
"And as reward, I get to live?" she asked, one eyebrow raised.
Lord El-Melloi looked puzzled at that, and took another step forward, arms folded behind his back. "Goodness, no, that would be ghoulish. No, you'd have my gratitude! Quite a useful thing, for one such as yourself. The El-Melloi family has many resources, at least some of which would be made available to you. I daresay we could even help you get that Origin under control."
The fire within her seethed. She didn't want it under control, she wanted it to be stronger. "How do you figure that?"
"I recognized your handiwork in that salamander core," he said, lecturing again. "And from there, I recalled your file: yes, I see the look on your face, we do keep files for all our students, and you studied at the Department of Minerology for some time. Your case was… moderately interesting as a cautionary tale about the folly of awakening one's Origin." His lips stretched further- something so cold could not be called a smile. "It mentioned the… defect it introduced."
"My awakening raised my circuit quality by more than a full letter grade," she retorted.
"But you'd been born to flame and air! Quite a potent combination. And the awakening left you with flame alone; if you ask me, I'd have worked to save the other-"
"I know. You are not the first-" she began.
Suddenly, the kitchen door, which Lord El-Melloi had sealed, burst open- not the chain, you understand. The door burst open, a rain of splinters over El-Melloi's back, as he whirled towards it, covering his eyes with an upraised arm. Snarling, gurgling, the water demons, four of them, barreled towards her on the opposite side of the room, pseudopods rapidly slapping against the floor in an irregular rhythm. When Lancer ran them through with his spear, she could hear the hiss of dying magic, but they ran on, heedless of enemy or injury, and he grimaced.
Even as they settled at her side, two on each flank, facing the room with the windows at their back, Tiffany felt reluctant to get too close. Whatever control Caster had over these demons was rudimentary. She didn't want to see what those tentacles could do to a person; the carnage at Matou House had been gruesome enough.
But they had other qualities, which Caster had told her of after they'd summoned their first. Their immortality unless evaporated by an overwhelming strike was the most fascinating and useful by far, but most relevant right this moment was their sheer speed, and ability to squeeze through tight spaces as a liquid. It wouldn't have been even that much of a squeeze to burst through the employee toilets in the back, out of sight.
"There we are," she cooed. "Now, if it isn't too much trouble, I'll be leaving, milord," she said.
He laughed. "Really, now? Do you think your Servant's little familiars can defeat my Lancer?"
"Well, he certainly can't defeat them- he hasn't the weapon for it!" she said, a mischievous glint in her eye.
"Even if that's true," El-Melloi said, "he could still run your hand through, and sever your link to the Caster. That'd put a damper on your little escape plan, I'd wager." He'd retaken his rank posture with arms folded behind his back, trying to recapture some of his lost dignity. He needn't have bothered, in her eyes.
Also, if she'd had any doubt before, it was now obvious to her that Sophia-Ri was absolutely smitten with Lancer. She was practically drooling. Tiffany was surprised she hadn't run over to lick his abs or something. Judging by his face, El-Melloi was remaining willfully ignorant of his fiancée's intended infidelity. Couldn't happen to a nicer guy, obviously.
"Could he do it before they destroy the windows, though?" she asked, mimicking his pose and leaning forward with a dark grin of her own.
"Lancer?"
"Almost certainly," Lancer said, tightening his grip and leaning forward, like a runner before the sprint.
"Willing to stake your career on that?" Tiffany asked lightly.
If El-Melloi was shaken by her threat, he didn't show it.
"You see, I know you aren't. You think you'll have a dozen opportunities like this one, because you've had more opportunities than you knew what to do with since the moment you were born," she said with a sneer. "And so this? The chance to catch me and make me sing? Doesn't matter to you. But if I expose a streetful of normal people to magecraft on your watch, that'd be a black mark against you forever, and it would be entirely outside your control."
"That'd be the end of you, too. You're bluffing."
"Not at all. I don't need to. Caster knows how this whole War is supposed to play out," she bluffed, "and milord? You don't win. Do you want to know who does?"
That gave him pause, and he raised a hand to his chin. "So Caster lied at the docks," he surmised, waving his hand to the side as though flicking away his doubts.
"Of course he did. I told him to. Archer is the biggest obstacle, that much is true, which is why we so wanted a helping hand… even if that's not going to be you, any longer. But you didn't answer my question."
He narrowed his eyes, grin undimmed. "Why would I trust it?"
"Because you're too prideful to do otherwise when I tell you it's meant to be Kiritsugu Emiya," she said. At the same time, she asked 'Caster, what happens to El-Melloi and Sophia-Ri?'
"I'm not about to let that happen," he said with an indulgent tone. "Be serious?"
It was exactly what she'd hoped for and expected he'd say. "He did mean for you to die in Hyatt Hotel," she began. "But he'd planned for what he'd do if you didn't. He planned to get his hands on Sophia-Ri," she nodded towards her, who perked up at the mention of her name, pulled from fantasies of Lancer. "Now, you've fought, at this point- you'd managed to get your shot at Saber, wounding her hand, but he still blew you up, so you wanted revenge- and he got you good. I see your expression: yes, even through that mercury shield. An Origin Bullet, he calls them, made from his own ribs.
"They fry every last one of your magic circuits. You're powerless. And now he's got Sola," she used his nickname for her, "and you gave Lancer to Sola because you couldn't continue the War yourself. It wasn't really a negotiation, but still. He has Sola, and you have no more options.
"So you agree to the contract, the geas he presents you with: you'll order Lancer's suicide, and he'll free Sola and not harm either of you ever again." She let her smile fade away. "After all, however much she rankles you, whatever insults she hurls your way, you'd do anything for her. You love her."
El-Melloi stood, frozen, his mouth opening and closing like a stranded fish. Sophia-Ri looked at him, wide-eyed in shock and confusion.
"And then his assistant shoots you both in the back," she finished darkly. "Sola is lucky. She dies right away. You lie there, writhing, begging him to kill you- but you know the contract. No can do."
His hands were shaking minutely. Something in what she'd said… no, it wasn't a nebulous something, it was the parts of himself he recognized in the story, the parts where his animal hindbrain went yes, that's right, that's what you'd do, that hooked him in. It was something she could only imagine, as she had never herself starred in Caster's prophecies. It was a… tragic madness, like unto the Greek kings of old. "W-what are you?" he asked.
"I'm leaving now," she answered. Sophia-Ri nervously giggled at that, still unable to tear her eyes from her fiancé.
"Y-You! Do you realize what this means?!" he yelled as she walked past him, towards the broken kitchen door, her steps ringing out in the suffocating air. Lancer's gaze roved from her to El-Melloi and back again rapidly, unable to come to a decision, or at least unable to divine his Master's will.
"Nothing at all. It is, as it ever was, War. War to the knife." And then she stepped over the splintered frame, the water demons trailing behind her.
"I- Lancer- get her!" El-Melloi screamed.
"I wouldn't do that either," she said quickly. Hopefully not too quickly. She needed to stay intimidating. "At least, not if you're unwilling to stake your life on it?" She bluffed again: "You know that Caster was without a Master until he found me? Oh, he can't live forever like that, but long enough to avenge me? That, he can do," she lied. "Independent Action, they call it. The Cavalry Classes are a little looser around Class Skills, turns out. Guess that's why they made them. Easier to cheat the system." She turned her head back towards him and tried not to flinch at seeing Lancer's spear inches from her back, his body wound like a spring. "I thought you'd know all about it?"
She turned back, kept walking, didn't look back again. That way, if Lancer called her bluff, she wouldn't know it until she was dead. But eventually, she made it out into the back alley that the restaurant kitchen opened up into. The staff were nowhere to be seen, but she shrugged it off.
'So, did you have a plan?' There were still a few hours before sundown. Time enough to grab those supplies her father had sent over.
'Indeed I do, Master.'
Good.
She tsked. It was moments like these she regretted giving up smoking.
Happy New Year! Here's to even more of this fic coming out at the exact same rate as usual! Hope you're looking forward to it.
Much like last year, I am still cross-posting on AO3.
damn, you go girl
Maximum Power
The Unchosen One
- Location
- The Ormulum
Damn, Kayneth. Now that's what I call a fumble.
I think this chapter has solidified my fondness for Tiffany. She feels like she belongs in the setting, but as one of the really good characters worth cheering on. I particularly like her insistence on helping humanity and how it reminds me of Paracelsus. I wonder if the threat she made this chapter will be foreshadowing? I've always wanted to see a story where Magecraft is revealed!
I think this chapter has solidified my fondness for Tiffany. She feels like she belongs in the setting, but as one of the really good characters worth cheering on. I particularly like her insistence on helping humanity and how it reminds me of Paracelsus. I wonder if the threat she made this chapter will be foreshadowing? I've always wanted to see a story where Magecraft is revealed!
Man, I loved this chapter! Really went to show the ruthlessness that some Magi have. Also helped by the fact that Kayneth showed his madness. Hopefully Tiffany pairs up with Waver. Love our Big Ben London Star!
Yeah, this was pretty great.
Yeah, that's pretty dangerous. Even if she survived that, there prolly was a chance of turning out as Lio Shirazumi or the like. Still, she seems to be reasonably in control.
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- Location
- Oklahoma
I gotta say @DiscovAres, you're a master at masterfully folding yourself and Tiffany into the setting and feeling like 'yes, these two belong'. It honestly feels partly like I'm reading fate Zero with the same tone and all, if only slightly lighter.