Chaldea. It was a perfectly ordinary world-saving organization, of the sort you could find anywhere.

"You don't frighten us, English pig dogs. Go and boil your bottoms, you sons of a silly person. I blow my nose at you, so-called "Artoria King," you and all your silly English kenigets!" Gille de Rais declared from the top of the staircase, behind an impromptu barricade of mattresses and sofas. Technically, it was the emergency fire escape, but since there really wasn't any place to escape to, what with the outside world having sort of ceasing to exist, they long since taken to using it as a convenient staircase since the elevators always took too damned long.

Down below, huddled behind her re-purposed folding-table-turned-shield, Mashu Kyrielite sighed. "Look, is there someone else up there I can talk to? Preferably someone without Mental Pollution?"

"No! Now go away or I shall taunt you a second time!" the maddened sorcerer cried. "I don't want to talk to you no more, you empty-headed animal food trough wiper! I fart in your general direction! Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries!"

"Hey, I gave him that aftershave!" Mashu cried, offended. "He said elderberry was his favorite scent!" She took a deep breath, tried to calm down. "Look, just tell the queen we wish to speak to her! In the name of peace!"

"Never!" a new voice cried. Mashu facepalmed as D'eon stuck their head around the door frame behind Gilles. "You think you can trick us like that? You English dogs shall never have the queens! Vive La France!"

"I wave my private parts at your aunties, you cheesy lot of second hand electric donkey bottom biters!" Gilles added in support.

A tentacled abomination was thrown down the stairs at her. Fortunately, it was on the small side, so with an 'eep!' Mashu swatted it down the stairwell with her table, sending it falling down to land at a lower landing, only to slip and fall again. Resignedly, she began backing away back down towards the door behind her. While having a normal lifespan now instead of dying some time a few weeks ago was very nice, she had to admit being able to acrobatically make monsters go 'splash' had grown on her. This folding table just wasn't the same.

Stepping backwards through the open door, she breathed a sigh of relief as someone closed it once she was all the way through.

"I told you," Drake said, arms crossed beneath her huge... tracts of land as she nodded knowingly. "There's no reasoning with the damned frogs. The only thing worse are Spaniards."

Mashu sighed. "W-we had to try," she said.

Really, how had things gone so wrong?

….

Chaldea Daily Life

by Shadow Crystal Mage

Chapter 1: Yeah, This Is Definitely Not Fragments of Chaldea

Disclaimer: Fate and related material owned by Type-Moon. This is just a doujin. Certain parts by Overmaster, used with kind permission. The views expressed in this fanfic do not represent the views of the author, and are used for comedic purposes only.

….

"– fuck Marie Antoinette!" Mordred said dismissively.

Unfortunately, they had said it dismissively within hearing range of messieurs Sanson, Mozart and (with the usual question of applicability) D'eon.

"What was that, knight?" the fellow non-cishet Saber demanded in tones that said they'd definitely heard it right the first time, they just wanted an excuse to rumble.

"None of your business!" Mordred snapped, and their glare might have been a lot more effective if their helmet hadn't been on at the time.

"If you are talking about our queen, then it most certainly is our business," Sanson said, though he had not yet drawn his sword.

"Now, now, please, there's no need for violence," Saber Artoria Lily, whom Mordred had been speaking to, said, trying to ease the situation. "Please, it's not what it sounded like. Mordred was merely being emphatic and chose an unfortunate word to do so. Surely there's not need for this to– "

"Ooh, fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!" someone chanted.

There was a pause and they turned to see Kuro-san standing nearby, chanting and one fist in the air. The little Archer had a wide, shit-eating grin on her face, and looked very eager. "Oh, don't stop on my account," she said cheerfully. "Carry on!"

There was a tense moment, and then the Frenchmen (with the usual question of applicability) all relaxed. There was nothing like seeing a child eager to see pointless violence to remind an adult how childish they were being.

"The Princess of Knights is correct," Mozart said. "Mordred's language, while often foul, is seldom with malice. Though they must curb their tongue, settling the issue with violence solves nothing."

Saber Lily nodded, smiling in relief that disaster seemed to have been averted.

"Plus you frogs are so weak I'd have kicked your asses like a bunch of one-star Casters," Mordred said.

Saber Lily facepalmed.

There was a cry of fury, and Sanson briefly found himself without his sword as the one-star Caster tried to brain Mordred with it. There was very little skill but much enthusiasm.

It all went downhill from there as Saber Lily sighed and came to her fellow Knight's (not son, surely! She was a pure an innocent maiden!) defense as the first battle of the Anglo-French War Of Chaldea was fought.

So, yeah, that's how things went wrong.

….

One of the many, now seldom used conference rooms in Chaldea.

The table was round. It was also kinda crowded, since it wasn't really all that big, and was usually used for Nursery Rhyme's kinda-lonely tea parties when Jack wasn't hungry enough to show up. It was also being rented, meaning Nursery Rhyme was making a tidy profit of ten gold Nero Medals, and it would be some time before she realized they had long since expired and the shop that took them was closed. Still, it was a round table, and that what sort of mattered.

"I call this meeting of the Artorias of the Round Table to order," said Swimsuit Archer Artoria, whose turn it was to act as a sort of executive officer for the week, though they were most definitely not acting like an anarchosyndicalist commune, damn it! "Stand and be identified!"

"Saber Artoria, present!"

"Saber Alter Artoria, present."

"Santa Rider Alter Artoria, with presents!"

"Lancer Artoria, present."

"Lancer Alter Artoria, present."

"Um, Saber Artoria Lily, present?"

"Swimsuit Maid Rider Alter Artoria, present!"

"Mysterious Heroine X Alter–" yawn "– present."

"…"

At the paused flow of words, everyone (with the usual exception of Saber Lily) turned to glare at the determinedly silent figure pouting childishly.

"Really? Must you insist on this farce at every meeting?" Saber Alter said coldly.

"And take off that stupid hat while you're at the table, you're going to teach Saber Lily bad habits," Saber added.

"I don't even know why I'm here," Mysterious Heroine X said flicking up her nose in a textbook-perfect 'TSUN!. "I am most definitely not any sort of Artoria whatsoever, but an Anti-Saber Decisive Weapon!"

"She said 'Artoria', will that do?" MHX Alter said.

"I will allow it," Swimsuit Archer Artoria said. "Let the records show that all Artorias of the Round Table are present."

"Hey! Listen to people when they're talking!" MHX protested. "Didn't I just say I most definitely am not an Artoria whatsoever?"

"Ignoring you now," Swimsuit Archer Artoria said. "Also present is Saber Arthur, acknowledged as an honorary Artoria, various knights, and a surprisingly tough to kill Caster."

"Why did they have to change the name?" Tristan said.

Saber Lancelot shrugged. "It couldn't be helped. There are more Artorias than everyone else now. And the round table's a rental anyway, so we shouldn't get too attached to it."

"My kings, are you sure you wouldn't rather sit at this conference table?" Gawain asked, sitting awkwardly in one of the comfortable chairs surrounding the standard large conference table to room came with, where everyone else was sitting. "It's much more convenient."

"We did our best work around a round table, Gawain," Lancer Artoria said. "We see no reason to change that."

"You're fooling yourself!" Mysterious Heroine X cried. "We're living in a dictatorship! A self-perpetuating autocracy in which the Saber class– "

"Oh, there you go bringing class into it again," Merlin said cheerfully.

"Well, that's what it's all about!" MHX insisted.

"Should I really be here?" Mashu asked, feeling out of place. "Um, I'm not really a Servant anymore, so– "

"Of course," Saber Lily said with a bright, sunny smile that had Berserker Lancelot slam down his visor to keep from being blinded as everyone else tried not to look directly at her. "You have fought by our side as a knight. You will always be welcome here Mathew."

"Um, it's Mashu…"

"Besides," Saber Alter said bluntly. "We really don't have a procedure to kick people out of the knights, so you get to stay."

The Lancelots winced slightly. Saber Mordred just looked obstinate, which was very similar to the Artorias looking obstinate, but involved slightly more facial muscles.

"Subtle," Saber said flatly.

"Are we done yet?" Rider Mordred drawled.

"No," Saber Artoria said. "Now take your feet off the table and put on a shirt."

"You're not the boss of me!" the Mordreds said in stereo.

"AHEM," Archer Artoria said. "We are here to discuss the declaration of war with the French for its unprovoked attack upon a member of this noble knighthood."

"Um, no one has actually declared war–" Saber Lily tried to interject.

"Naturally," Lancer Artoria said. "Everyone knows that the French are a superstitious and cowardly lot who cannot be trusted, and will delay the official announcement of war so they may attack us by surprise."

Both Lancelots exchanged a look, then sighed as they decided it really wasn't the best time to point out they were French.

"Um, I'm pretty sure they wouldn't do any such thing, the Queens Marie aren't that sort of people–" Saber Lily tried again.

"Then we must strike first!" Lancer Alter declared. "Else we will return to those dark days of besieging castles and being taunted by frenchmen with outrageous accents!"

"In my defense, that plan would have worked," Bedivere said. "They brought the rabbit inside, didn't they?"

"Says the man who said the world was banana-shaped," Saber Lancelot said flatly.

"Well, science is an ongoing process, old assumptions are always being replaced when newer, more accurate information is discovered," Bedivere said staunchly.

Tristan abruptly jerked upright. "I'm awake!" he declared.

"Stop sleeping, Tristan," Saber Artoria scolded. "It'll help if you open your eyes, you won't be so sleepy then."

"Yes, my king," Tristan said. His eyelids didn't move at all. "Ah, yes, that's much better."

"We all have swords, " Mordred pointed out. "We could just cut his eyelids off."

Tristan smiled. "Ah, good jest Mordred," he said. There was a beat. "Er, you are joking, right?"

"Can't you tell from the look on my face?" Mordred said flatly.

There was another beat. "Yes, you're obviously joking," Tristan said, smiling brightly. His eyelids never moved at all.

"Um, if we're done here, I better go and find sempai–" Mashu began as she tried to make a reverse charge. It was definitely a reverse charge and not a retreat!

"Hardly," Archer Artoria said. "Put down Clarent, Mordred. The attack on a member of our knighthood cannot go unanswered, especially as it was by the French. We must demand an apology and restitution at once! If they refuse, then honor demands that we go to war."

Saber Mordred blinked. "Wait, father. Are you actually saying that y-you're doing this to defend– "

Rider Mordred sat up straight so fast they fell out of their chair.

Saber Artoria frowned. "Of course. Though we may have our differences of opinion, as a fellow member of this august body, such attack is also an offense against us."

"F-father?" Rider Mordred managed to choke out.

"After all, as childish as she can be sometimes, Saber Lily is still one of us. We will defend her honor," Saber Alter said.

Both Mordreds slumped.

"Um, I wasn't really attacked," Saber Lily tried one last time. "I freely chose to come to Mordred's defense–"

"Yes, yes, but any attack against you would clearly have been unprovoked," MHX said. "After all, you're not some sort of loudmouthed braggart who just randomly shoots off their mouth, so you'd clearly never give anyone reason to attack you. Clearly, the attack on you was unprovoked."

"Hey, I was the one they attacked!" Mordred cried.

"And you clearly deserved it," Saber said. "After all, why were you badmouthing the poor Marie Antoinettes? Those Austrian girls have suffered enough, having to live and die in France."

"I wasn't–" Mordred began, before cutting off. "My words were taken out of context!"

"How would 'fuck Marie Antoinette' be taken out of context?" Lancer Alter said.

"Well," Merlin said brightly, "Mordred could have been saying 'I want to fuck Marie Antoinette' or something like that."

Everyone stared at the red-clad Saber, even their alternate self in the bikini.

"Well, I suppose Mordred would be at the age where they'd notice girls," Gawain said, sounding as if he couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth.

"I'd like to state for the record I'm not into strange things like that," Rider Mordred said hastily.

"O-of course not!" Saber Mordred said.

"Well, given that's the only context where the words 'fuck Marie Antoinette' could be reasonably be argued as not being an insult to that poor Austrian girl's honor, any other context is unimportant," Swimsuit Maid Rider Alter Artoria said.

"Unless you're lying about wanting to fuck Marie Antoinette, in which case your name gets more underlines on the Naughty list," Santa Rider Alter Artoria said. "I might even have to start a new Naughtier list for such a thing."

"Wouldn't not lying about that also put Mordred on a Naughtier list?" Gawain said.

"Yes, but it would be a different kind of Naughtier list," Santa Rider Alter said.

"Brother, stop helping and shut up," Saber Mordred said.

….

But, you ask, where is the Master of Chaldea, good ole' Gudao, er, Fujimaru Ritsuka, during all this nonsense? After, all, Plain Tasteless Vanilla-san is always around during all the events and interludes and such, right?

Well, even anonymous, cookie-cutter, featureless, main character types, of the sort you can find anywhere, get hungry too, and at the moment, Ritsuka-kun was waiting in line at the Chaldea cafeteria for his turn to get his tray filled up. His face was its usual bright, cheery and generic self, which really made you wonder if he was suppressing the inevitable PTSD of all the crap he's been going through or just not smart enough to realize he should be traumatized and–

…

!-!-!-!-!

…

Ahem. Our apologies, we did not mean to ACCIDENTALLY INSULT the second most bright and shining star and treasure of Chaldea, the great Master FUJIMARU RITSUKA, the man who saves the world! And if we did so, then it was by COMPLETE ACCIDENT, which we will of course make up for! This is the conclusion we came to after PURELY VOLUNTARY SELF-REFLECTION and not at all because we have a knife held to our throat by Gudak– WE MEAN, FUJIMARU RITSUKO, THE BRIGHTEST AND MOST SHININGEST STAR IN CHALDEA, WHO IS COMPLETELY AND ABSOLUTELY A STERLING PILLAR OF SANITY AND NOT SOME KIND OF MANIAC AND SEXUAL DEVIANT AS SLANDERED BY SOME HACK'S MANGA, OH PLEASE TAKE THAT AWAY FROM MY CROTCH, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE….!

…

Er, ahem. As we were saying, it was a perfectly ordinary day at the Chaldea cafeteria, where one of the only remaining Masters of Chaldea, the perfectly unique, distinctive and not at all generic hero Fujimaru Ritsuka was happily accepting another one of the Nameless Archer's healthy and delicious meals. Standing patiently beside him, wearing a radiant, heroic smileTM© and idly wiping a knife with a little blood on it for ABSOLUTELY INNOCENT REASONS, was his twin sister and the only other surviving Master of Chaldea, Fujimaru Ritsuko, not Gudako, that was just a foul lie made up by some stupid mangaka! Together, they were the twin Masters who had saved human history, traveling across times and relative distances in space, and all sorts of weird events, collecting Holy Grails, defeating Demon Pillars, meeting Epic Spirits from across time across time, etc., etc. and so forth.

So yes, that's what they were doing. What were you expecting something more? Well, too bad,it was just lunch and innocently cleaning blood from a knife. However, this handily explains why they weren't around to handle things, so there.

….

Meanwhile, among the French…

"I call this meeting of the Jeanne High Command to order!" Ruler Jeanne d'Arc said, thumping down the butt of her flag.

Most people were probably expecting Avenger Jeanne Alter to be the militaristic head of the French. Most people would be wrong.

Said Alter was standing slightly behind her original, a perplexed look on her face as she wondered why things weren't the other way around. On Jeanne's other side, Lancer Jeanne Alter Santa Lily, leaning against her spear drooping sleepily. As a Santa, the hours of night were her time, and this nonsense about being up at noon was doing horrible things to her sleep cycle. Real Santas didn't go around when the sun was up, darn it!

In the room with them, which lacked it's own round table because they weren't into that, were the other French Servants of Chaldea, except those treacherous Lancelots, who'd sided with the silly English kenigets. Both Gilles were hanging on to Ruler Jeanne's every word, while Sanson, Mozart and D'eon were arrayed around the Queens Marie, the Rider and Caster sitting together side by side on heir impromptu thrones, which were a pair of recliners they'd managed to thronify. Avenger Edmond Dantes leaned against a back wall like the absurdly-rich, avenging hero of the darkness that he was, looking detached but mildly interested. Astolfo sat on a stool, eating from a bag of chips. All in all, it was a pretty pitiful contingent.

Ruler Jeanne faced them all loudly proclaimed, "My Queens! Once more, I shall raise this flag, for this country's—-no, for France's salvation. Order has gone up in flames, and so much purpose has been lost to the English. Our future vanished in but a second. Listen to my words, brave warriors gathered here, legion of brave heroic spirits! No matter if you were sworn enemies or no matter how far your time periods apart, now you must entrust your backs to one another! My true name is Jeanne d'Arc. In the name of my Lord and France, I shall stand as your shield! This struggle is one that has long endured through the sands of human history. But there is no need for concern, as untold fateful encounters await you. Though this entire Chaldea has become the battlefield of our Holy War, though the world has been brought to ruin, though countless Artorias block your path, the end has still yet to be determined by anyone. Now, let us begin our fight, Vive Le France!"

Astolfo, and the Maries applauded politely. The others had heard that speech too many times to really be affected by it.

"Is that the only speech you know?" Jeanne Alter said rudely. "Because it's seriously getting stale."

"Well, it works, and that's the important bit," Ruler Jeanne said, not deigning to look towards her critic. "My queens! We cannot let this insult to your persons stand! I propose we break this siege and go after the vile and despicable English."

There was a cheer from D'eon, Sanson and Mozart (who wasn't French, but they weren't being picky, since without him they'd already be . outnumbered by the Artorias alone) at this. Though their Servantly constitutions meant there was no noticeable harm done from the, lets face it, brutal asskicking they'd gotten from a pair of Sabers, they all had bruised egos.

"Oh dear, is that really necessary?" Rider Marie said. "It is Sir Mordred after all. If they weren't swearing, one would have to call Medea Lily to see if they are ill."

Caster Marie nodded, balancing her ball on her lap. "Perhaps you missed the context? Maybe they were instead saying 'I want to fuck Marie Antoinette' and you merely overheard the end of their words?"

Sanson, Mozart, D'eon and Jeanne Alter all twitched a little at the thought.

"Ah, yes, that! Well thought out, other me!" Rider Marie said. "Yes, that would make perfect sense. Sir Mordred is likely at the age to notice girls, and we are very noticeable." She reached out and stroked Caster Marie's cheek playfully. "Why, I find myself noticing you all the time, so why would it be any surprise that a hot-blooded knight who so loudly proclaims their manliness would not do so as well?"

Caster Marie placed her hand over Rider Marie's own. "Oh, how trying it must be on the young knight, to have no beauties but their fathers around them to notice." She leaned into the hand, and the two Maries looked deeply into each others eyes, slowly inching closer together…

"My queens, your Habsburg tendencies are showing again," Mozart said politely.

"Yeah, cut out the twincesty stuff," Jeanne Alter said impolitely. "Stop making us look as bad as the Irish!"

"Oops," the Maries said in stereo and a weird accent. "Pardon us, we fucked up."

"Their Highnesses colloquialisms are improving," D'eon said with a smile.

"They sound like Astolfo practicing American sitcom slang," the Avenger of Monte Cristo said. Astolfo nodded cheerfully in agreement.

The Marie fanclub glared at him, and Jeanne thumped her staff down to get their attention. "Peace! We cannot turn against ourselves now! Not when there are the English to face!"

"Okay, that's it," Jeanne Alter snapped. She pointed at Ruler Jeanne accusingly. "Why the fuck are you in charge of this?-! I'm the Evil Servant of Hatred, Vengeance, and Dark, Gritty Edge! What you know about revenge wouldn't fill a post-it note, even if you had Bunyan do the writing!"

"Sister," Jeanne said, smiling a dazzling, saintly smileTM©. "Of the two of us, which of us has actually managed to significantly effect a war against the English? Without having to cheat with dragons and mandatory Mad Enhancement, I might add?"

"W-why are you smiling like Ritsuko all of a sudden?" Jeanne Alter said, suddenly finding herself ten feet farther back and Lancer Jeanne Alter Santa Lily fully awake and cowering behind her.

"Oh no, I am MOST DEFINITELY NOT smiling like Master Ritsuko at all," Jeanne said. "Master Ritsuko has a radiant, heroic smileTM©, which is completely different from my dazzling, saintly smileTM©. See? Completely different." She smiled. It was very dazzling, very saintly, trademarked and copyrighted.

"JEANNE!" Caster Gilles cheered, wiping a tear from his eyes. Ah, to see his holy maiden so beautifully determined to kick English ass… it reminded him so much of the good old days!

"I blame you for this," Saber Gilles accused him, even as the good and noble knight wiped a tear from his eye. Ah, to see his holy maiden so beautifully determined to kick English ass…!

"Whoa…" Astolfo 'whoa'd'. "Regular Jeanne can be scary too! Who knew?"

"Follow me, my fellow Frenchmen," she cried, pointing dramatically upwards. "Let us show the bloody English we are not to be trifled with! Onward and upwards!"

"The English live downstairs," Jeanne Alter said blandly.

Jeanne pointed downward. "Follow me, my fellow Frenchmen! Lets us stomp down on the damned English!"

Edmond Dantes sniffed, straightening from leaning against the wall and turning away. "Count me out. This nonsense has nothing that interests me. "

"We shall have vengeance against the les goddams at last for the last time we fought against them!"

The other Avenger immediately turned around. "Well, if there's going to be vengeance, I might as well get in on it," he said.

….

In hindsight, no one was ever sure who really attacked first. The French said the English made the first move, and they were just defending themselves. The English countered that the untrustworthy French had obviously attacked first, and they were but helpless victims who had been roused to anger.

Thus began the Second Anglo-French Chaldea Civil War, but we won't get into that now, since we haven't even finished the first yet.

When the dust settled after the opening volleys, however, Tristan had been defeated.

"Stupid Englishman," Lancer Liz said, shaking her head later upon being interviewed by Leonardo Da Vinci-chan for what had happened.

"He could have won, if he'd let go of his pride," Brave (Saber) Liz said, sighing. "Really, why do knights feel they have to take every duel they're challenged to?"

"He really shouldn't have let Mozart challenge him to a music-off," Caster Liz said, though she was grinning broadly as she said it. Caster pride, yo! Let's see who's squishy now, you stupid Archer!

As the redhead was dragged off to be brought to the questionably tender mercies of Nightingale by a helpful Tawara Touta, and Leonardo went off to try and get the Masters to reign in this latest batch of troublemaking, the 3 Liz (who were hoping they'd get a Rider Liz this year, or maybe even (Void) Liz Alter from their Extella days!) went off to spread the word of this juicy, juicy gossip.

While many Servants looked upon this turn of events with amusement, a few of the more Early Modern Servants born within the last 500 years, mostly of European descent, sighed and decided to barricade themselves until the Artorias finally killed all the French (purely on the basis that they'll probably never run out of new Artorias). Tesla, Blavatsky, Paracelsus, and both Vlads found a room and sealed themselves away, leaving a big sign on the outside for any Englishmen and French to go away. They were just glad of the dearth of Deutschland Servants, or this might have gotten REALLY messy.

The English retaliated, of course. They called upon the heroes of Britain to their banner, and had it been any other English ruler, there was a good chance they'd have been told to take a hike. However, they were called by Artoria (x10) , and even Robin Hood, the anti-social jerk, had enough respect for the Once and Future King(s) to come. Only Boudica, who even they acknowledged was from far back enough to get a pass, and Teach, who they forgot about, didn't come when the call came about.

And so, outnumbering the French greatly, Robin Hood, both pairs of Mary and Anne, and Francis 'Most-Definitely-Not-Queen-Elizabeth' Drake launched a daring raid into French territory!

….

"The cakes!" Astolfo cried as he reported on his knees before the thrones, tears streaming down his face in abject misery. "They stole all the cakes! Every one of the cakes in the Royal Refrigerator are gone!"

Both Maries gasped in shock. "Is… is there truly nothing left?" Caster Marie said, voice trembling.

At the question, Astolfo looked like they were going to puke, turning away hastily. Alarmed, Caster Marie turned to Lancer Jeanne Alter Santa Lily, who had accompanied him to get the cakes.

The little Santa had a haunted look in her eyes. "There was this pie… at least, we thought it was a pie… but… but…" Abruptly she shuddered, turning as green as her mistletoe. "It was filled with slimy… ick… do the English actually eat those things?-!-?-!-?-!" she suddenly wailed.

Rider Marie gasped. "Was it that bad?"

"It looked like something Gilles called up with that book of his," Astolfo said, sounding like he'd just been subjected to the Tsukihime anime (that doesn't exist). "It smelled like mint and yeast! There were baked beans on it!"

Everyone shuddered, knowing very well the horrors of English food from their days alive.

"How dare they imply the Queens should eat English cooking!" D'eon seethed. "I wouldn't feed English food to a trash compactor!"

"It's not food," Sanson reminded him. "I don't know what it is, but we shouldn't dignify it with the term 'food'. Where is High Commander Jeanne?"

"Trying to calm down older sister me," Lancer Jeanne Alter Santa Lily said. "It looks like they also stole her rum cake."

A few doors away, they could hear the rage of the Dragon Witch.

"She doesn't seem to be succeeding," Mozart said.

"I'm sure my holy maiden older sister isn't intentionally getting her mad so she goes charging at the English and set them on fire," Lancer Jeanne Alter Santa Lily said blandly. "That would be an un-holy maidenly thing to do and would probably put her on the Naughty List. So she's most definitely not doing it."

"I'LL RIP YOUR NON-FUNCTIONING TONGUES OUT THROUGH YOUR ASSES AND FEED THEM TO YOU!" came the roar from the other room. "THAT WAS GOOD RUM, YOU BASTARDS!"

"Yes, definitely a very naughty, un-holy maidenly thing to do," Lancer Jeanne Alter Santa Lily said.

….

"This is good cake," Francis 'Most-Definitely-Not-Queen-Elizabeth' Drake said as she helped herself to another messy slice. "Good rum too."

"I still think this was a terrible idea," Saber Lily said, abstaining from any cake in protest even though the front of her white dress was getting a little moist from how much she was drooling at the sight.

"Yeah, well, it was the French," Mordred said, taking a huge swallow of cake and then grabbing a tissue and wiping Saber Lily's drool. They tried not to melt like a puppy at the grateful smile on the smaller girl's face. "A win's a win."

"And we didn't have to build any rabbits this time!" Saber Lancelot said with a happy sigh. His Berserker self growled in agreement. The latter for once had his helmet down, as it was very awkward to try and eat cake through a helm. Him being Lancelot, he was actually using his utensils quite skillfully.

"The rabbit would have worked," Bedivere said, but didn't push it further. This was really good cake, after all.

The Artorias of the Round Table (and assorted attached knights) had decided to use the stolen cakes to hold a celebration of the latest victory. It served the purpose of showing that the cake was being properly distributed, and to more securely entice the various heroes they'd called to them. Jack the Ripper was happily chowing down on her slice, having wandered back in after the initial call (since she'd been curious as to why she'd been invited, as she usually wasn't invited to anything but Nursery Rhyme's tea parties), and was looking more amenable to staying. Sherlock Holmes was at his ease, not seeming bothered by the fact he was eating stolen cake and ignoring Shakespeare expounding on his favorite subject (himself). The Marys and Annes were getting chummy as they ate, and Dr. Jekyll was awkwardly trying to remind them they were in public. Robin Hood and Waver Velvet were smoking in their isolated corner, ignoring Nightingale's lecture on the dangers of tobacco and secondhand smoke. Babbage had politely excused himself earlier to keep everyone's cakes from getting soggy from steam.

They were in the midst of eating when a goddess barged into the room. Twice

"SEIBA!" the goddesses Archer and Rider Ishtar declared, before coughing and throttling back on the Japanese accent.

"They mean her," Saber Alter told Lily as the younger one looked about to reply, pointing at the blue-clad Artoria.

"How can you just sit there and eat cake!" Archer Ishtar accused, pointing dramatically. "This is serious!"

"Really serious!" her Rider self agreed. "It's a catastrophe! Even Gilgamesh can't claim he knows anything bigger!"

Saber Artoria frowned. "What happened Rin?"

"ISHTAR!" they corrected in unison. "This is all your fault, you stupid Artorias!" the Rider declared.

"The French have captured Nameless and are holding his food ransom!" the Archer wailed. "Tamamo Cat couldn't handle all the cooking by herself and quit!"

Shocked silence fell.

"Damn it Shirou, why do you keep getting captured!" Saber cried.

….

Had Nameless, occasionally responding to EMIYA or Shirou, been there, he'd have grumpily protested that he usually didn't get captured.

Normally, he'd have broken out by now, since it was the French who had him, and they only really had, like, three or four Servants who were any good, but after he'd been showed the horrifying English… cuisine… thing and told that the monstrosity had been made in his kitchen without his consent, he had been convinced that, at the very least, he could not allow such a horrible crime against the culinary arts go unpunished. Justice must be served!

Yes, that actually IS the official motto of the Chaldea cafeteria.

It was also the motto of the impromptu cafe he'd been convinced to open on behalf of the French. While French food wasn't his specialty, he supposed he could do with a challenge. He was well aware that the French were using him to recruit mercenaries to offset the numerical advantage of the Artorias (and the English as a whole, but mostly the Artorias), but after that crime against cooking…

Well, he'd give it a few days.

"Welcome to Cafe Marie!" Astolfo and D'eon greeted people at the door, once more dressed in the maid (sorry, meido) outfits they'd picked up at Agartha. This posed no comment, since as usual they pulled it off very well. As the Queens Marie lounged, holding court, people who'd been redirected from the cafeteria wandered in. The service was far slower, since they cooked by the order instead of cafeteria style, but the crowd was small, mostly disenfranchised one- and two-stars, with a few Greek and Roman 3-Stars thrown in. A large, impossible to miss sign at the door read 'No English Spies Allowed!'.

Standing in a discrete corner, Ruler Jeanne smiled in a dazzling, saintlyTM© way as she surveyed the room, satisfied. Soon, they would have the support of all Chaldea, while the arrogant English would soon find the forces of the mainland arrayed against them, with nothing to eat but their own horrible cooking! She did not laugh, for it would likely have been un-holy maiden-ly laugh and her little sister would need to put her on the Naughty list.

….

Ritsuka and Gudak– er, Ritsuko– stared at Da Vinci-chan.

"The English and French have done what?-!" Ritsuka exclaimed.

"Is that why my eggplant is nowhere to be seen?" Ritsuko said, looking annoyed. "My eggplant, my eggplant, wherefore art thou my eggplant?-!"

"Sis, stop quoting Shakespeare, you know it only encourages him."

….

"My Shakespeare sense is tingling!" the Caster cried. "Someone is quoting me!"

"William, shut up. No one in Chaldea quotes you anymore since they've actually met you," Berserker Nightingale said. "Possibly you're hearing things." She reached for the bonesaw. "I shall treat you for a concussion."

"Leave me be, you quack!" Caster said, putting an arm around his head protectively. "I would rather go to Jack the Ripper for medical help! At least she has an excuse for it being barbarically painful!"

Things had been going poorly for the English. After Nameless had been taken, the French had gained a powerful bargaining chip to hire continental mercenaries, in the fine tradition of European warfare. The Irish had been quite willingly hired, with the exception of Boudica, who they passed over since they were afraid she'd burn all of Chaldea down. No one wanted a second Boudica Destruction Layer, thank you very much.

With the Irish backup, the French were almost able to fight the English to a draw, since let's face it, goddess-like power and Rune Magic aside, one side was nearly all Sabers and the other side had mostly Lancers. It was, in hindsight, a horrible waste of the stir fry they had been paid with. Still, it had accomplished it's purpose, which was to provide a distraction while Swimsuit Scathach stuffed bubblegum in all their sheaths., dealing a terrible blow to the English and their many swords. The fallen Irish were honored with a farewell dinner, and the French, now with another win, looked for mercenaries less likely to get their asses kicked.

Help came in the form of the only Irishman not in a bikini who hadn't gone for a frontal attack: the Archer James Moriarty. Yes, canonically there's a very high likelihood he was Irish. The French rolled with this even though everyone and Hessian Lobo knew how this was going to end.

After the inevitable avalanche of plots resulting in Berserker Lancelot being put on snow shovel duty outside to keep the front door clear of snow for the next month, Astolfo's hair being set on fire, and Mephisto somehow ending up tied to an exercise machine at the bottom of one of the elevator shafts, it ended with Moriarty and Holmes taking each other out to recover under the care(?) of Nightingale, where Holmes futilely tried to get her to give him some morphine, and Moriarty found himself being waited on hand and foot by Berserker and Saber Fran. It was put down as a French victory, since Nightingale opted to give Holmes a BBB-chain anesthesia. This eventually led to the Holmes' Vengeance Event, but we won't get into that now, since we haven't even finished this one yet.

Then the English got hold of Shuten Douji's booze, and things got really messy.

….

It is a little known fact that, like the Masters and ironically not Shielder, Santa are immune to the affects of alcohol and potent alcohol fumes, as well as never gaining weight or coming down with diabetes. It has to do with being able to withstand millions of offerings of milk, cookies, and occasionally eggnog offered by most of the western hemisphere.

As such, Lancer Jeanne Alter Santa Lily was one of the few Servants still functional after the English had used gas warfare and deployed Shuten Douji's booze. Santa Rider Alter Artoria was theoretically also active, but she was eating all the unattended food 'so that they wouldn't go to waste and put people on the Naughty list'.

This alcohol immunity did not protect her from the smell of random puddles of vomit, occasionally with a passed out Chaldea technician or Servant not far away from it. Her nose crinkled as she walked carefully around such obstacles, trying not to look directly at the people actually lying in the vomit. Not for the first time, she wished her clothes had more fabric to them so she had something to cover her nose.

Thankfully, the hallways were mostly clear as most people in Chaldea were not the lightweight in alcohol tolerance Mashu was and had either gotten out of the area, gone for the gas masks or sat down and gotten drunk on fumes.

Eventually, she made her way to one of the rooms in the nominally American part of Chaldea. Considering that consisted of a grand total of six Servants, it was a sparsely populated zone. The air was filled with the smells of smoke, gunpowder, ozone, maple syrup and chocolate.

She had no reason to sneak– and in fact should not need to since as a Santa she should by rights have Presence Concealment to rival King Hassan if it weren't for this weakass Saint Graph!– but felt she should anyway. The determined Jeanne D'Arc part of her soul screamed at her that this was treasonous behavior and a betrayal of all things right and French. It was outvoted by the Santa and innocent little girl part of her, and so was being pouty by trying to make her feel weird.

Eventually, she reached a door where the smell of maple syrup was strongest and, looking furtively over her shoulder and down both ends of the corridor, gave the secret knock. It sounded like 'Jingle Bells', even though it wasn't. She was a Santa. For some reason everything sounded like Jingle Bells when she did it.

The door opened a crack. "Password," the suspiciously light and high-pitched voice inside hissed.

"The significant Fou fous in the night," the little Santa said, still feeling cagey.

"Yet many silver Sabers go sadly to be Masterless men," said the young person on the other side to the door.

"Hooray, hooray for the spinster's sister's daughter," the Santa countered.

"To the Berserker, all enemies are the same height,"

"Yet verily, the rose is within the thorn."

"The good mother makes bean soup for the errant daughter," the voice from behind the door said.

There was a pause. The Santa frowned. "What?"

"The good mother makes bean soup for the errant daughter."

There was another pause. "Are you sure the ill-built model doesn't tremble mightily at Altera's passing?"

"Nope. Bean soup."

There was a longer, alcohol-rich silence.

"What about the caged Beast?" said the little Santa.

"What about it?"

"It should know nothing of the starry void, if you must know."

There was an annoyed sigh, and the door opened the rest of the way. Kuro von Einzbern stuck her head out. "Look, we were over this two days ago Jeanne-chan. Bunyan's room is two more doors down. Just because this room smells like maple syrup doesn't mean it's her room."

"Eh?" the Santa said, pouting at the fourth member of the Chaldea True Lolis Self-Defense Society. "Then what are you doing here, then?"

"Meeting a Roman," Kuro said blandly. "Go on, git! I'm starting to get tipsy." She jerked a thumb in the direction of the right room and closed the door.

Lancer Jeanne Alter Santa Lily glared at the portal. "You're on the naughty list!" she declared.

"I'm always on the naughty list! Go away!" was the muffled response.

Muttering to herself about why they bothered to be friends with that weirdo, Lancer Jeanne Alter Santa Lily stomped off.

Two doors down, the Santa knocked insistently on the door, and if sounded like 'Jingle Bells', well maybe she meant it to.

The door opened a crack.

"The significant Fou fous in the night and if you don't let me in right now no presents for you! Come on, it stinks out here!" the Santa hissed.

"But how are we supposed to know it's really you and not some spy?" the girl on the other side whined.

"Alice, it smells like barf and beer out here. Let me in!"

Apparently the prospect of leaving even a potential spy to marinate in the stench of vomit and alcohol was too distasteful for the other SR. The door was opened enough for the little Santa to finally enter.

Even as she entered she was struck by the thick miasma of scents. Fresh cut wood and sap, blue ox, sawdust, blue ox, maple syrup, blue ox, buttered scones, blue ox, tea, blue ox, blood, blue ox, ginger cookies, blue ox sweat and blue ox. Lancer Jeanne Alter Santa Lily really had to wonder how a little (allegedly giant) blue ox that barely came up to her thighs managed to smell so strongly. Really, the special fresh cut wood, sap and sawdust-scented candle they'd given Bunyan as a housewarming gift barely put a dent in it.

As soon as the doors were closed, she found herself engulfed in hugs. One felt like she was being hugged by an enthusiastic department store mannequin, and the other made her worry she was going to come out of this missing an ear, but that was a perfectly normal sensation when being hugged by Nursery Rhyme and Jack the Ripper.

"Ah, Jeanne! It's so good to see you again!" Nursery Rhyme cried, burying her face in the Santa's white mantle. Unlike her arms, which were like articulated doll arms, her face was soft, warm and currently wet with tears and maybe a little snot. Nursery Rhyme did not cry in a dignified way. "We missed you so much!"

"We did, we did," Jack the Ripper confirmed in her weird kinda-sort-not-but-a-little-maybe English-ish accent, her wide, sincere smile tugging on her facial scars. She didn't smell like blood and sewage, but rather gave off the sensation that she should, even when she'd just freshly showered. Which apparently hadn't been in a while, since she smelled kinda ripe. "We missed you Jeanne!"

Lancer Jeanne Alter Santa Lily let that go as she hugged her close friends, even as huge hands came around to gently engulf them. One carefully, tenderly patted Jeanne on the head, which was like have a heavy, warm blanket almost but not quite fall on your head. Bunyan was a giant after all, and even though she could somehow shrink to fit indoors, her head always just brushed the ceiling, meaning she was actually smaller when she was standing than if she was sitting down.

Don't think about it, it was one of those weird Chaldea things.

"Now we can finally have a tea party!" Nursery Rhyme said excitedly as Bunyan pulled back her hand, pulling Jeanne towards a corner of the room with a smile. Smiling, Jeanne let herself be pulled along by her friend's enthusiasm.

The smile faded, however, when she saw the arrangements. "What happened to your table?" she asked, aghast.

Nursery Rhyme gave an embarrassed smile at her table. Or rather, her lack of table. Well, technically it was a table, since there was an elevated flat surface on which food had been placed, but considering it was two orange crates with a blackboard on top (the words 'Teach us Jaguar-sensei!' were still visible in one corner), compared to the beautiful carved hardwood piece they usually did their tea parties with, it was an abomination. "Um, well the King Artorias are renting my table right now since they need a round table. But don't worry! They gave me ten gold Nero Medals for it!" Nursery Rhyme said, happily holding up the currency.

"…" Jeanne said. "Alice, the item shop stopped accepting that as currency months ago.

"EH?-!" Alice cried in distress. Jack looked shock at this news. "W-well. Let's have tea anyway. After all, the table isn't important! What's important is you do it with your friends!"

For a moment, Jeanne was inclined to let it go. What Nursery Rhyme said was completely true. After all, she really didn't care about the table. She had never really noticed the table before. It was just what had held their food and tea, something to sit around as they enjoyed each others' company. It wasn't anything important.

Then her eyes met Jack's. There was indignation and outrage there, the more so because it was unexpected. Jack held her gaze and shook her head.

"No," Jeanne said, taking Nursery Rhyme's hard, doll-like hands with it's lovingly carved ball joints in her own. "No, Alice. You deserve better. You deserve a good tea party, with your friends and good food and an actual table! Where did you even get a blackboard, anyway?"

"Oh, I asked Illyasviel, and she got it from Miss Jaguarmura," Nursery Rhyme said. "Apparently they use it for some kind of teaching dojo for main characters who lose somehow?"

"Well, it's no good," the Santa– no, Jeanne D'arc, Heroic Holy Maiden of France, declared. She summoned her spear, and if it wasn't exactly a banner, the streamers tied to it did just as well. They fluttered in the breeze Bunyan conveniently made by grabbing a piece of cardboard and flapping it in her direction as Lancer Jeanne Alter Santa Lily took on a determined pose. "For such an ugly thing to grace one of Nursery Rhyme's beautiful tea parties is an abomination! My friends! For the first time, I raise this banner for our tea party's– no, for our friendship's salvation! Order has gone up in flames, and so much purpose has been lost! Our peace vanished in but a second! Listen to my words, brave friends gathered here, legion of brave heroic spirits! No matter that French fight English in the halls of Chaldea, no matter how far apart our floors are, I have always entrusted my back to you! My true name is Jeanne d'Arc. In the name of my lord, I shall stand as your Santa! Though this Chaldea has become the battlefield of a Civil War, though the cafeteria has been brought to ruin, though countless formidable foes block your path, the end has still yet to be determined by anyone. Now, let us begin our fight, friends. For Nursery Rhyme's table, and for our tea time together!"

Wow. Now she totally understood why eldest sister kept recycling her speech. It felt so good!

Determinedly, Jeanne turned to Jack. "Jack. I know you're English and I'm French. I know you're the one who left that disgusting pie thing in our refrigerator." The legendary Jack the Ripper had the grace to blush. "But this is bigger than that. This is more important. I'm asking for your help. To break into Camelot (Annex) and steal– no, to retrieve it, since it was stolen unfairly– to retrieve Alice's precious tea table, a prize greater than any Holy Grail, the blessed site of Alice's sacred tea time together! I know it will be hard. Will you help me anyway?"

Jeanne held out a hand.

Without hesitation, Jack took it. "For Alice's tea time," she said, as if she didn't occasionally ditch it to watch Nightingale and Jekyll do surgery.

"G-girls," Nursery Rhyme said, sniffling. "It's not really that important. You don't have to do this." The hesitant, grateful smile she gave them made her real feelings obvious.

Bunyan put down the fan and patted Jeanne and Jack on the head. "You're good friends," the lumberjack said approvingly.

Jeanne took a deep breath and turned back to Jack. "Okay. So how do we break into the silliest place in Chaldea?"

….

"I can't believe this is actually working," Jeanne muttered.

"Quiet," Jack said. "Cardboard boxes aren't supposed to talk."

"I'm a Santa, darn it! I should have perfect Presence Concealment! After all, Santa is supposed to break into every house in the world on the same night without being noticed!"

"Well, you don't. Now be quiet, or someone will hear!"

Jeanne decided that all the alcohol fumes must be the cause of it, since there was no other way to explain how she managed to sneak into English territory hiding under a cardboard box, trailing behind Jack. Behind her, the cardboard box containing Nursery Rhyme followed, moving a bit awkwardly since the other girl's longer poofy skirt made it hard to sneak. Never mind the huge shipping container-type box Bunyan was using to sneak around.

Yes, only the passed-out drunk could possibly miss their little thieving party.

The plan was elegant in its simplicity. Get it, take back Alice's table, get out. What could possibly go wrong?

….

An hour later, they were back in Bunyan's room, drinking tea and eating little tea snacks around the restored round wooden table.

See? Nothing went wrong. What were you worrying about?

….

When the Artorias sobered up, it took them about an hour to notice the table was gone, since they didn't actually eat there. They had an actual dining table for that.

"Oh dear!" Saber Lily exclaimed when it was discovered. "Nursery Rhyme's table!"

"Damn the French!" Saber Alter cried. "No doubt this is their vile doing!"

"We need to recover the Round Table right away!" Lancer Alter agreed. "We cannot let it remain in French hands!"

Saber Lily paused. "Um, why would the French… well, steal Nursery Rhyme's table?"

"Clearly, the French stole the Round Table to humiliate us," Lancer Artoria said. "This cannot stand! For our honor, we must retrieve the round table!"

There was a hue and cry as the Artorias charged out to attack the French, followed by most of the other Englishmen and allies.

Most, that is, except for an uncharacteristically frowning Saber Lily and (Saber) Mordred. The reason for the latter was because the former had grabbed one of the many conveniently handle-like protrusion of the latter's armor (which is what happens when a grown knight lets their mother pick out their armor) in a firm and exasperated grip.

"Okay, this is going too far," the smaller Princess of Knights said, sounding like someone who'd finally gotten to the end of a very long line only to find that the person before her had been the very last customer before the line closed, and they'd have to do this all over again and were sick of it. "Something needs to be done about this."

Her tone made Mordred squirm like they were being chided by their mother. Which was weird because Mordred hadn't given much of a damn about said mother, but this was the unfortunate effect of a papacon being chided by the most feminine version of said father, whom they actually liked, respected and borderline worshiped even more than the other versions and who actually seemed to like them back in an almost familial way.

By such twists through the far side of weirdness do Pendragons come to having a normal family.

Finally, Mordred said "Well, there's nothing I can do. Father and father and father and father and father and father and father and crazy Jedi father don't listen to me."

"That's not true," Saber Lily protested, though it was a bit weak in the face of reality. "I listen to you."

The wide-eyed, puppy-like stare of utter worship Mordred sent her way passed completely through her. Saber Lily, in her own way, also didn't listen.

The door opened again, and (Swimsuit) Mordred stuck their head in. "Hey, aren't you coming? Ack! Why are you alone with father?" The rest of them entered the room. "Is this the legendary father-son bonding I've heard about? I thought it was just a myth!"

Saber Lily smiled brightly at (Swimsuit) Mordred. "I was just having a private word with the other you, Mordred. We were discussing how we were going to stop all this foolishness."

"Yeah. This is secret conspiracy stuff, so run along and don't tell anyone," (Saber) Mordred said, waving a gauntleted hand at their counterpart and sneering as best as one could when their father is holding them by the armor.

"Ack! That's not fair! You just want this father all to yourself!" (Swimsuit) Mordred exclaimed. "I want to join the secret conspiracy too!"

"Well, you can't," (Saber) Mordred shot back. "This is a special, private conspiracy between me and father. Shoo! Go away!"

Saber Lily frowned. "Really Mordred, that's no way to behave. I won't have any Knight of mine treat themselves so badly." Turning towards (Swimsuit) Mordred and ignoring that cosmic shitbrick of irony, Saber Lily smiled and said, "Of course you may join our conspiracy Mordred. I trust you to keep a secret, and so does Mordred. Don't you Mordred?"

When there was no response, Saber Lily shook (Saber) Mordred by their armor.

"Meh," (Saber) Mordred said, pouting like a kid who'd been told to share. "I guess."

"Yes," (Swimsuit) Mordred, pumping their fist. "So, what's the secret?-!"

"We," said Saber Lily, "are going to end this silly war with the French by doing something unthinkable. We are going to apologize and sue for peace."

"Aw," (Swimsuit) Mordred. "Do we have to?"

Saber Lily frowned, leaving the Mordreds to squirm guiltily, with a strong urge to bow their heads and say 'Yes Mother'.

"However," Saber Lily said, relaxing her expression and accepting this as Mordred being Mordred, "first we must restore poor Nursery Rhyme's table to her. Though we took it from her under false pretenses, it is still our responsibility and we must ensure it's safe return. While I doubt it is in French hands, it is certainly gone, and must be found. Fortunately, there exists a group of knights who are experienced in questing forth to find lost objects."

(Swimsuit) Mordred blinked. "You… want to go on a quest to find a little girl's tea party table?"

"Oh no, Sir Mordred," Saber Lily said beatifically. Unlike most people in Chaldea, this was genuine beatitude, and certainly more innocent and pure than most of the Holy Maidens they had. "I cannot go, for I am needed elsewhere. However, I am sure it is a quest you are suited to handle."

"You want me to go on a quest to find a little girl's tea party table?" (Swimsuit) Mordred exclaimed. "Why me?"

"You did insist on joining this conspiracy," Saber Lily said. She suddenly looked uncertain. "Unless… you do not want to?"

"Argh!" (Swimsuit) Mordred cried, looking away so as not to see the disappointment in those eyes. "All right, I'll do it, I'll do it! I'll go on a quest to find the stupid kiddie table!"

"Hey, it's no stupider than some of the stuff the other guys have gone looking for," (Saber) Mordred said. "Remember Galahad trying to find some place called Castle Anthrax?"

"Oh, yeah, that," (Swimsuit) Mordred said, nodding. "I never really got what was so important about that place. Didn't mother want to send us there once?"

"Really Mordred," Saber Lily said, frowning and making the Mordreds feel guiltier, "this could all have been avoided if you'd just been honest and admitted we were talking you wanting to fuck Marie Antoinette."

(Saber) Mordred avoided (Swimsuit) Mordred's gaze. "I thought we agreed never to bring that up again!" Mordred exclaimed, blushing.

"Oh, you too?" (Swimsuit) Mordred said.

Saber Lily and (Saber) Mordred stared.

The Rider shrugged. "What? I'm not an Alter, I think the same way you do." Their expression, usually much more relaxed and pleasant than their counterpart, became outright dreamy as they sighed, staring up at something only they could see. "Hmm, those legs…"

"Don't say that out loud!" the Saber cried.

"Why not? There's only girly-Father here, and she's the cool Father," the Rider said, giving Saber Lilly an approving nod.

"I thought you said you weren't into strange things like that?" the Saber said.

"This is Chaldea. What's strange about Englishmen liking French girls?"

"Technically she's Austrian," Saber Lily said faintly, trying to protest being called girly, and realized that any correction made her sound like some kind of etiquette book. And being so highly thought of above her fellow Artorias felt so good when it wasn't usually the case. She coughed, trying not to blush and let the complement go to her head. "Ahem. Well. Go on your quest, Sir Mordred, while your other self and I shall try to forge peace in the midst of war."

"You know, if you succeed, you'd be the first father to pull it off," the Rider said, nodding and looking thoughtful.

Saber Lily tried not to let that go to her head either. "Ehem. Well, let us be off! Oh, and be sure to go and tell poor Nursery Rhyme something happened to her table and that we are setting off to recover it. We must be honest and accountable about these things."

….

….

….

There was an event. There was always one or two a month and civil war or not, they weren't going to stop happening any time soon. This one was yet another of Nero's tournament's, where various Servants were beating the crap out of each other, and Chaldea once more wasted its resources buffing Hercules up to nigh-unkillable for a game instead of, say, against a Demon Pillar.

Saber Lily was of course not participating. No one ever invited her to these things. They'd sooner invite Andersen than her. Really, if she were the sort to hold a grudge she'd be pretty annoyed about that.

She sat in the crowd in the simulator-turned copy of the Flavian Amphitheatre , and yes that was the proper name of the place, wearing a baseball cap, blue jacket and shorts. The only thing distinguishing her from Mysterious Heroine X was the lack of ahoge sticking out through her cap.

In the dust of the arena, everyone was cheering with bloodthirsty enthusiasm as a team of Merlin, Caster Tamamo and Jeanne Alter faced off against the super-overpowered Hercules. It mainly consisted of trying not to go splash at his huge axe and Merlin and Jeanne Alter taking random potshots at each other. This was sometimes literal, which is why some of Merlin's hair was on fire and Jeanne Alter smelled like potpourri. Seated at one of the rearmost benches, mostly alone by herself, Saber Lily couldn't actually smell the air and potpourri, but this wasn't her first Nerofest.

Eventually, someone sat next to her and said, "Whassup?" The person tried to be nonchalant and just sounded Austrian-turned-French Royalty.

Saber Lily glanced sideways at her, then immediately looked away, trying to push down complicated feelings. "Does, ah, Illyasviel know you're wearing her clothes?"

The brightly pink and mildly reddish-clad queen of France had a smile on her face and an expression that tried to look sly. "Well, I needed a disguise. If it was found out that I was meeting with an Artoria, it would be a great scandal, and France would likely try and seek revenge."

Yes, they probably would. And then the other Artorias would go seeking revenge. For a moment, Saber Lily wondered how both sides could possibly try to seek revenge for the same event.

For a moment, the two just sat there, Marie Antoinette cradling the toy wand she held as if it were an actual sceptre. There was a roar from the crowd as Tamamo took a hit her Morph skill couldn't protect her against, and the Caster went down. She was helpfully dragged off the floor and a cheerfully bouncy Irisviel skipped onto the field in her place. Behind her, Nerofest officials were frantically trying to get the Assassin EMIYA to put down his guns and not shoot Hercules dead right then and there. A few feet away, Kuro and Illya were getting the same treatment, the latter clad in her non-Ascension school uniform.

"I wish to talk about peace," Saber Lily finally said.

Marie Antoinette sighed. "FINALLY!"

"I understand neither side can just sue for peace, since it will just give a reason for another war with more allies later on," Saber Lily said. For the first time, she looked straight at Marie Antoinette. "However, I believe I've found a way to resolve this issue with neither side publicly having to admit to defeat."

Marie Antoinette nodded. "Ah. That is very good. Who shall I be marrying?"

Saber started in surprise, and at the look on her face, Marie laughed. "Ah, dear Lily, you forget. I am a Habsburg. Where all others make war, our Dynasty makes marriage! And as it is one between Servants, it does not count as cuckolding our husband."

….

(Rider) Mordred was a knight on a mission. Armed with trusty Prydwen, they'd been instructed to go on a quest to seek the (substitute) Round Table of Nursery Rhyme.

Why they couldn't just order her a new table from the internet they had no idea. But cute angelic father asked them to do it, so they'd do it!

Hmm, cute father…

Still, they'd also been told to tell Nursery Rhyme that something had happened to her table, so it was off to the hilariously small Americas sector (it wasn't even just 'United States of America'. It was America, as in North and South, that's how hilariously few heroes they'd managed to produce) of Chaldea where the little book hung out nowadays.

Knocking on Bunyan's door, and waiting for a reply, the Knight of Treachery briefly wondered if the lumberjack and David managed to get along.

There was a brief rumble, and the door opened. Mordred found themselves staring at a huge, wide-eyed face.

"Yes?" Bunyan said, as the went back to wiping off the table in their other hand with a rag the size of a table cloth.

Mordred stared at the table.

"So… quest completed, I guess?" Morded said, to Bunyan's confusion. "Do I get Quartz shards now or something?"

….

And so did the Chaldea Franco-Anglo Civil War end, and peace returned to the hallowed halls of Chaldea.

….

"Treachery! Betrayal! That good for nothing traitor!"

"How dare they! Truly a blight upon our knights!"

"THAT LITTLE SO-AND-SO!"

"I'll make them wish they'd never been born!"

"Naughty list! Naughty list! Eternal naughty list for that bad child!"

"Please pass the sweet bean buns."

"A spanking! A spanking! They're not too old to be spanked!"

"Drown them in golden holy water!"

"Damn-That-Traitor-Calibur!"

There was much kingly bitching in the air as the Artorias, once more cheated of a decisive, final showdown with the French for another copout ending, all seethed.

"ARTORIA! ARTORIA! ARTORIA!"

Everyone else, on the other hand, was cheering the ending of the war. The English, after centuries of… well, being the English, had learned to lower their martial standards. Since they hadn't outright lost, they chalked the war up as a win in their favor, and they cheered the one who had made the... er, victory, possible.

As a result, a surprised and embarrassed Saber Lily was being hoisted into the air by the enthusiastic English while the other Artorias (with the usual question mark on MHX Alter) glowered.

"W-wait! Ack, not so high! Wait, my skirt! H-help!"

And so, Saber Lily joins her older counterparts in being abandoned at the moment of victory.

….

I said, Peace returned to the hallowed halls of Chaldea.

Until the next event, anyway.

….

- To be continued…

….

A/N: Yes, we've heard of and tried Fragments of Chaldea.

Work on this fic began between the 2nd Swimsuit (2017) Event and before the Halloween 2017 event, before the new Liz came out. This is roughly when the fic is set.

So… wow, do I procrastinate or what?

….

Epilogue

….

Mordred stared up at the ceiling of the private room. Outside, the sounds of celebration and partying and people being sore losers were all muffled, providing a low background hum of sound. The Knight of Treachery lay naked under a convenient blanket, an equally naked Marie Antoinette curled at their side.

"Huh," they eventually said. "So that's what it's like to fuck Marie Antoinette."

….

Swimsuit Epilogue

….

Swimsuit Mordred stared up at the ceiling of the other private room. After all, there were two Mordreds and two Marie Antoinettes. Outside, the sounds of celebration and partying and people being sore losers were all muffled, providing a low background hum of sound. The Swimsuit Knight of Treachery lay naked under a convenient blanket, an equally naked Swimsuit Marie Antoinette curled at their side.

"Huh," they eventually said. "So that's what it's like to fuck Marie Antoinette."

….

And so, peace returned to Chaldea.

….

Please review, C&C welcome.

Until next time, this is Shadow, signing off.