Blood, Obsidian, Ocean Chapter 7
The kingly Saber of the Blue Faction swiftly blocked Clarent with a sword that the Knight of Treachery seemed to have never seen before; a thing with a white hilt and a flaming blade.
The collision of the blades of the two Servants of the Sword created what could only be described as a sonic boom. The attack took all the Masters of each faction by surprise, while most of the Servants just observed with a wary interest. The teacher of Cu Chulainn just looked bored.
With a grunt and a pant, Kairi finally caught up to her, bent over as he was, and wheezing.
Damn it! Maybe he really smoked too freaking much. Five years ago, that sort of run would not have been as taxing as it was now… but that was not important right now.
All watched as Mordred's Clarent and Saber of Blue's blazing white sword clashed almost ten times in a minute, before Mordred's father pushed her blade away with pure strength and finesse.
Then, a moment later, Saber of Red found herself tightly bound in chains that had erupted from gloving portals, courtesy of the bored-looking Archer of Blue. "Cease the snapping of your jaws at your sire, rapid pup. We do not have time for this," the Golden man said, arms crossed.
The once and future king of Britain and Camelot gazed upon his angered and struggling child with a somewhat blank expression, both of whom did not reply to the Archer of Blue.
"Hello, Mordred. It's been a long time," the King of Camelot, Arthur Pendragon said.
"Shut up, you bastard! I'm going to kill you, you uncaring piece of shit! You're going to pay! I'll make you pay for what you fucking did to me!"
Damn it. Kairi needed to do something, and so he held up his right hand. "Saber, by the power of my command seal, I order you to stop and calm down!"
As the middle portion of the helmet-like symbol disappeared from the back of Kairi's hand, leaving only the jaw, all could see as the Saber of Red physically struggled and fought with all her will as the seal-enforced command settled into her very being and core.
However, despite Moredred's considerable willpower, Kairi watched as she eventually ceased struggling, the only sound now being her angry panting.
With a condescending chuckle, Archer of Blue snapped his fingers, and the chains unfurled and retreated back into the glowing portals.
Even then, all could see Mordred trembling with rage as she glared upon her father, Arthur Pendragon, who returned her angry and wrathful gaze with a disturbing lack of emotion.
Kairi could tell that things were about to get a lot more complicated.
Fiore Yggdmillennia looked about then cleared her throat. "As I asked earlier, what is going on? Aside from Lord El-Melloi II and Kairi Sisigou, who are all of you?"
The tall, armored woman with the two spears shook her head long maroon tresses. "It's complicated."
The paraplegic magus sighed. "Very well. Might I suggest that we all head back to the Castle? It will be safer to have this conversation there."
Kairi could tell that she was trying to make that suggestion seem more like a threat. It was a good try, but against the likes of Lord El-Melloi II and Scathach (yeah, he had overheard that bit, which was terrifying in and of itself)… yeah, it was a good try.
The tall woman shrugged. "Fine by me. Besides, if any of you lot tried anything, I can still walk out without a scratch, and that's withoutmy three shiny new Servants."
Everyone could not help but be intimidated by the casual way she said that last sentence.
Then, with little ceremony, they all hustled off towards the looming castle, save for Mordred, who lagged behind, staring at her father's retreating back.
Kairi walked up to her with some trepidation. As he did, he heard her whisper "always looking at his damned back."
Kairi quashed the temptation to reach out. "Saber?"
The glare she leveled his way could have burned down a mountain. Then, she shook her head. "I'm fine, Master. Let's go."
El-Melloi II had been, understandably, a bit reluctant to enter The Millennia Castle. Of course, he was also reluctant to be anywhere in the overall vicinity of Scathach, the Root-damned Witch of the Shadowlands, a woman that was factually known among the Moon-lit world to be not only a god-killer, but also unable to be killed!
Still, he swallowed his reluctance, and, now, he found himself in one of the Castle's opulent throne rooms, somehow left intact after the Red Faction's theft of the Grail.
He only felt slightly assured by the presence of his fellow faction members.
Sherlock Holmes (El-Melloi II managed to keep himself from going numb with excitement at the idea that he was in the same room as one of his historical and literary idols) simply smoked his pipe, slowly filling the room with fragment fumes, alongside Kairi Sisigou and his noxious cigarettes.
From the top of the dais, Fiore Yggdmillennia looked about, swallowed, and cleared her throat. By her side, her centaur Servant stood firm and protectively. "Now, then, I would greatly require an explanation. First off, what are you, Lord El-Melloi II, doing here? How are you and your cohorts in possession of Servants? How is there a third faction? The Reserve system only contains enough power for two."
The reluctant heir of the Melloi family sighed, rubbing at his right hand as he spoke. "Honestly, I have no idea how to answer those questions, save for what I am doing here. Several days ago, the rest of my faction and I suddenly, and rather painfully, developed command seals, as if they were being carved into our flesh. At least, until Dan Blackmore, the Edelfelt Sisters, and Father Cervantes here told me that they had developed theirs almost two months ago.
"After I and my two students here," he gestured to Flat and Gray, "gained ours, we immediately headed towards Romania, almost drawn to the others, and, having met up with them, we all summoned our Servants, save for Sir Blackmore, who had summoned his much earlier. As I just said, though, none of us have any idea how such a thing occurred, or why a third, unregistered faction such of ours even came into existence in the first place, even with the Grail's Reserve system in full effect."
The Yggdmillennia Heiress nodded. "Does the Clock Tower know that you are even here, Lord Melloi?"
He fought the urge to correct her. "No. Honestly, with the way things are going now, I would prefer if that continued, though, I am not sure how long that is going to last now."
"Why are you being so remarkably forthright about all of this information, Lord El-Melloi?"
He had to admit, that was a good question. "Because, I don't see any point in secrecy at this point. This entire Grail War has already started going to straight to shit."
The girl nodded, and then looked towards the silent Ruler Servant, puffing away on his pipe. "When did the Grail summon you, Mr. Holmes?"
The Detective of Baker Street then cleared his throat. "I was not summoned by the Grail. Neither were the Servants of the Blue Faction, as a matter of fact… At least, not directly."
His answer left everyone, espescially the Blue Faction, shocked to their core. "What?"
"No, in fact, I was not even supposed to be a part of this War. That honor was supposed to be given to one Jeanne d'Arc, the Saint of Orleans, but something happened to her, and, as such, I was brought forth in her place. I, and the Servants of Blue, am here through the intervention of the Counter Force, the collective unconscious that strives to protect humanity. However, that is not important, at least, not yet. What is important, on the other hand, is the fact that the Red Faction's leader, Shirou Kotomine, is actually a Servant, the Ruler-class servant, Amakusa Shirou Tokisada, a leftover from the Third Holy Grail War of Fuyuki."
That got everyone's attention. The portly man near the dais, Goldorf Musik, if El-Melloi II remembered correctly, seemed to explode with disbelief. "A Servant? Are you shitting us, Ruler? That's impossible! A servant cannot last for so long without a steady source of prana! Darnic would have known! You are lying to us, aren't you?"
The look that the Great Detective leveled the man's way quickly shut him up, and then Holmes promptly ignored the rotund man entirely. "Of course, perhaps, I should be using the past tense in regards to the Youthful Saint, as, with the presence of the good lady Scathach here, he is more than likely dead."
The aforementioned woman nodded, as she casually leaned against the wall. "You would be correct, Mr. Detective. The Saint is dead. He died roughly an hour ago, when the remainder of his command seals transferred to me."
She then gestured to her chest and arms. "These are proof, the stipulation of a bargain that he and I struck sixty years ago."
Fiore leaned forward in her wheel chair. "What sort of bargain?"
"In exchange for my help in locating a relic that he needed for this War, as well as information, he offered me his command seals and the contracts of three servants, should he fall, as well as a chance at hunting down an old adversary. I was bored, and honestly a little intrigued, so I accepted. Though, I actually never thought it would happen…."
Hanging Gardens of Babylon, Earlier
It was time.
With a sigh, Shirou stood up from his seat at the base of the throne room's Dais, and left, accompanied by Assassin.
"I will inquire of you once more. Are you sure that this is wise, Master?" she asked.
He did not even hesitate in his answer. "Of course it is. This is the best chance for us to succeed."
He rubbed at his right arm as he spoke. After everything that he had endured, after all the sacrifices, bloodshed, and deals, it all came down to this moment. It would have to be worth it.
They entered the amphitheater where the Greater Grail resided, and were met by the grinning Francisca and Caster.
The boy's grin widened at Shirou's approach. "Are you ready, Mr. Fake Priest?"
The Apocryphal Saint nodded. "Of course. I have waited more than eighty years for this. Caster, if you would be so kind?"
As the Leader of the Shimabara Rebellion approached the Grail, he shed his cloak and shirt, revealing to the world his lean, tanned torso and arms, with every inch of them riddled and pockmarked with scars of varying size and depth. His arms then began to glow, as arcane script covered them from wrist to mid bicep, with the left a brilliant and holy light blue-green, and the right a dark and sinister shade of black-crimson. As he continued his stride, flat discs of arcane construction, courtesy of Semiramis, phased into existence before him, creating a staircase of sort towards the center of the floating orb, which he began to ascend.
As Shirou walked ever closer towards his destiny, Caster then nodded. Shutting his blasphemous tome, François Prelati closed his eyes and then raised his arms towards the Greater Holy Grail, and began to incant, the words filling the air with a twisted power.
I make an offering. To this broken world, I offer blessings and thanks and sacrifices!
I offer thanks to mother Atë, born the embodiment of madness!
I offer blessings to the holy spirits of the world, who taught me magecraft, the madness of men!
O' saint and knight who showed me a different madness, neither of you were mistaken!
I make an offering! To all humanity, permitted by this broken world, I offer the sacrifice that is me!
Grand Illusion!
His Noble Phantasm now activated, a strange and unsettling glow and haze settled upon the floating orb. Meanwhile, Shirou kept climbing. Once he was no more than a foot from the surface of the Wish-Granting device, Shirou put his glowing hands upon the stony exterior of the Grail, digging in his fingers as he did so, and then began to tug and pull.
After a bit of an effort and a struggle, the Saint managed to muscle open an entrance of sorts. Before him was what seemed to be the interior of the Grail, and there seemed to be nothing but a bright, glowing, golden void, endless in expanse. Without hesitation, Shirou strode forward into the unknown, with the strong-armed entrance slowly closing behind him once he vanished from view.
As the Ancient Empress of Assyria watched with some slight trepidation, Francisca and Caster grinned….
It was time.
The goddess and her followers had trailed the Cup's thieves to the ocean, but had been undaunted. Instead, the goddess had conjured her power, and they now stood posed and ready to take the cup from the hands of the unworthy and unloved.
Below them, below her, the ocean streamed past like an endless road of blue. She, Gilles, and their proud and noble captains rode the living and summoned embodiment of her love and power in great pursuit of the flying castle of the thieves, each motion of the legs of the giant waded through the ocean and sounded through the air like the drumbeats of her fellow divines, while the voice of her new loves and protectors caressed her ears.
Despite the great heat radiating from the giant's carapace none of the passengers felt the least bit of discomfort.
You are getting closer, our goddess, our queen, and our love. The cup shall bring your armies forth and forward, and they will deliver unto you the keys to the tower. Then, we will be free…
She smiled at the comforting voice, and then turned to gaze upon her captains.
The broken man of rust and iron meditated in prayer as he sharpened one of his many blades, his mismatched eyes empty and yet all seeing, engrossed as he was in his task.
The fallen goddess coiled about the broken soul, flexing her talons, as if she were eager to rend the throats of the deserving.
The Gentleman spoke into a strange device that he had acquired from a village that they had passed through, one of many where she had panted the seeds of her love, ready to sprout at but a notice.
The imperfect hero simply glared at his compatriots.
The betrayed emperor growled and rumbled at all that was about him.
Behind them, the priest, the killer, and the doll maker just sat quietly, holding onto the spines.
Behind her, Gilles stood strong, the banner of the Goddess held proudly in his armored hand. Despite the mighty winds buffering about, and the blistering cold from the height, he did not even close his eyes.
The giant simply rumbled, a sound that seemed to shake the earth itself, while it gripped its sword tightly.
He then spoke. "The fortress of the thieves and heretics is in sight, my Goddess. Tell me your commands, and I shall carry them out."
The true devotion in his voice made her smile wider. "It is quite simple. Once we reach the fortress, we shall embrace all who reside within it with our love, and take the cup into our hands."
"Of course. But, if I may dare to question you?"
"Gilles, please. It is all right. Tell me your thoughts and concerns."
"Very well. It is about the tower. It was within our grasp. Would it not have been more advantageous to have secured it first?"
"An understandable concern, my General, but alas, to safely get it, we first need our armies. Not to worry though, for once we hold the cup, then the tower, and those who hold it with them, will come willingly to us."
Gilles nodded in loyal understanding.
As they drew closer to the soaring fortress, unnoticed by its queen…
Millennia Castle
"Who was this adversary?" El-Melloi II asked.
Scathach stood up from the wall. "A twisted and vile little creature, unburdened by morality, and evil in every sense and translation of the word…"
Unknown
It was a scene of horror that greeted his eyes, and one that was wholly familiar to him, to his sorrow.
A castle in flames… the ground scorched to cinders… and, all about him, he heard the screams… men, women, and children, each either dead or dying, all the while crying out for salvation.
Please, listen to us… you don't have to suffer anymore, just go back… there is no need for you to do this…
Almost in uniform, they appeared on either side of him, endless rows of desiccated and decaying corpses. All shambled towards him, tears dripping from the sockets of their eyes.
It's already too late… much to late… someone life you never deserved to be here… you killed us all… don't you hate us… we killed them all, your father, your mother, your friends and comrades…
He ignored their outreaching, grasping hands, none of which actually touched him.
They all died screaming, everyone you cherished… don't you hate us… do you not despise us…
He did not even look at them, his eyes practically glued to the horizon in front of him as he kept walking, and yet, he felt compelled to answer the voices out loud. "I am free of emotions. No more hatred, no more sorrow. To survive and save humanity, I had to discard them. So no, I don't hate you. I don't hate any of you. I came to peace with what happened, long ago."
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw an intimately familiar sight that actually made him pause, though he did not turn his head to look upon it.
It was that of a young man, no more than seventeen years of age, with pale skin and long black hair. His clothes were little more than ragged rags, and his skin was covered in fresh and bloody scars. Most gruesome, however, were the two jagged and bloody stumps where his arms had once been.
For a good while, Shirou simply stood there, unmoving, as he considered that boy's fate. Then, he continued walking forward, leaving the echoes of his past behind him. As he did, the scenery began to change…
Semiramis' eyes were glued to the spot of the Grail where her master had disappeared.
Francisca saddled up to her, while Caster remained where he stood, his eyes closed and chanting. "You know, that is a strange expression on your wrinkled face, Mermaid Hag. What's on your mind?"
With an annoyed look, and a flick of the Empress' hand, black chains erupted from the floor, tightly encircled, the diminutive magus/ creature, and sent her crashing to the floor with a yelp of surprsie.
Despite the tight constriction about her, Francisca seemed more annoyed and inconvenienced than in any actual pain. Meanwhile, Caster remained focused in his chanting. "Ouchie! What's your problem, you big meanie?"
The Empress of Assyria glared down upon the vile creature with the austerity that she had inherited from her divine ancestry. "It has always bothered me why my master, as kindly as he is, deigned to work with you, despite knowing full well what you are. So, I suppose now is as good a time as any to ask."
Francisca giggled, even as she remained tied to the ground. "It's kind of a funny little story. We actually met during the Third Holy Grail War. It was my third time participating, after all. My Servant, a useless and vengeful little Berserker, had been killed off rather early, but I decided to remain behind to watch the rest of the War unfold. I had to admit, I was greatly surprised with how things turned out.
"After the War, he managed to track me down, and asked for my help."
"Why?"
"Because, somehow, he found out that I had been involved in the Grail's very creation, along with those three useless families, and thus needed my assistance in manipulating it. At first, I just wanted to devour him, digest his bones and prana and call it a day, but, then, he told me what his wish entailed, and the lengths he was willing to go to in achieving it… and, I became intrigued. How often does one get the chance to see a Holy Saint debase himself so? It was such a delicious opportunity, and so… I agreed to help him, to assist him in gaining access to the Grail."
As Semiramis processed this information, Francisca then spoke again. "So, that being the case, I have to know… Do you want him to succeed? Save humanity and all that shitty jazz, or… perhaps you also want him to fail as well?"
Semiramis said nothing in response to this admittedly cutting question. Then, she shrugged. "I will admit that I find it to be rather tempting; the despair of a Saint… such a thing would be a rare delicacy indeed, as you noted, little beast, and one that I have yet to witness. But, more than that, what I want is for him to succeed. I want to witness that scene which he has sacrificed so much, that which he desires more than anything, from the bottom of his heart; the pure and total Salvation of Humanity. After all this time, how much further will he still allow himself to go? What does he still have left to show us, those who he wants to save? To see it… that is what I truly desire."
She then turned and looked down towards the bound creature on the floor, raised her hand, and a plethora of glowing circles flashed into existence around Francisca, each ready to riddle her with mana blasts. "As such, that is why I will kill you now, you little creature. I know your kind. You seek chaos and death for no purpose other than your own twisted enjoyment. As one who bears the title of 'hero,' even I cannot bear to see you exist any longer in this world."
After processing this statement, as the circles began to glow, Francisca then began laughing, despite her situation, catching the ancient Empress completely off guard.
"What's so amusing, you twisted creature?"
"Ha hahahaha! Sorry… it's just that, during all my time on this world, there has always been one thing that I've repeatedly noted about heroes, demi-gods, and empresses, no matter who they are or where they are from…."
"What are you babbling about?"
"What I had noticed was that those types of people are always so focused on their grand destinies, on the insurmountable tasks that fate sets in front of them, that…"
"That what?"
The monster's smile grew toothy and wrong. "That they never notice the danger behind or beside them before it's too late."
Semiramis then realized that Caster had stopped chanting. As she turned, the Servant of the Shadows did not notice the danger until it was too late, as Francisca had noted.
Several swords impaled themselves through her limbs, sending her crashing to the floor in a bloody heap, while her outstretched arm flew in the opposite direction
As she lay there, trying to remain conscious through the pain and trying not to scream, Semiramis heard the sound of footsteps. In a flash of light, a group of persons that had not been there before were now walking into the amphitheater. How had she not detected…. Caster's Noble phantasm! The damn illusionist!
Almost as if he could detect her deductions, Caster turned and grinned at her.
Everyone of this new group shared the same, strange features of white hair, pale flesh, yellow eyes, and red and black veins spread across their skin.
But, at the head of this group was an even more strange and unsettling being. It was a woman, beautiful, if a bit short. Her armor was as black as night. Above her head floated a crown that never seemed to stay in one shape or form.
But her shadow… it was her shadow that made the ancient Empress of Assyria try to back away as fast as possible, despite the fact that several blades pinned her to the floor.
It was in the shape of a coiled and deformed dragon, and, despite it being a shadow, it seemed like it was looking right at Semiramis.
The strange and unsettling woman walked right up Semiramis with a smile, ignoring her struggles, knelt, gently put her hands on the sides of the Empress' head, and… kissed her.
Pain. Ungodly pain flooded every iota of the Ancient Poisoner's being, and she screamed into the woman's mouth, unable to pull away as the kiss and pain intensified.
Then, through the pain, she felt another, much odder sensation…. This woman, this thing… it was absorbing her!
Master…
As all feeling and sensation left her, she heard the strange and frightening woman say, "I will love you forever, as you become a part of me. For that, I thank you."
Then, there was nothing…
The Grail
"So, this is it. I've finally reached it. This is the Heaven's Feel."
Where once there were burning ruins, now it was an endless field of flowers with silver, red, and gold petals. Overhead, the Sky was clear and blue.
He looked about in surprise and awe at the scene around him, before his eyes then settled on a sight that was at once familiar, and yet not familiar to the Apocryphal Saint.
Standing before him was a woman, pale of skin and white of hair, with closed eyes. She was almost a mirror image of the homunculus who had summoned him, all those years ago in Fuyuki.
…A trembling body, cradled in his arms in the snow, as single tear of blood slid down her face. Then, a whispered "I'm sorry…."
Unlike his former master, however, this one was clad in a breathtakingly raiment of gold, ivory, crimson, and silver, which glittered kindly in the sunlight.
As he looked at her, she opened her eyes, revealing two clear orbs of red, and she smiled at him.
"Welcome," she said, in a husky voice. "Have you come to make a wish, to activate the Third True magic?"
The goddess stood up, and looked up at the Greater Grail. She then reached out her hand, and from it spewed forth a torrent of dark energy, which began to slowly encircle the Grail…
Before Shirou could reply, a great cacophony suddenly burst into auditory existence, like the shriek of the damned. Meanwhile, the sky began to darken, and the flowers started to whither and die.
In front of him, the woman suddenly flickered, and then… she smirked at him, and the expression was a terrible and wrong thing to behold, while her garb grew black and crimson, and her eyes turned a sickly gold.
"It seems that you are now too late, former Servant. You may go now."
The Starting penalty is five...
Everything flashed…
The dark orb then let loose one last burst of golden light, and from it was expelled Amakusa Shirou Tokisada, the Apocryphal Saint of Shimabara, garbed in his original servant attire, with the Miike Tenta Mitsuyo ready to spill blood.
But, before he could even engage in an epic duel to the death against the invaders, Shirou felt several black appendages wrap themselves around his limbs, just as a large number of swords were suddenly impaled through his chest in a great spurt of blood and viscera.
The Miike Tenta Mitsuyo kell to the stone floor with a clatter.
Despite the blood running down his chin, and the weapons impaling him through his chest and arms, Shirou seemed…unfazed.
As he slowly looked down, he saw Francisca looking up at him, and laughing.
"I see," Shirou said to Francisca as the appendages slammed him to the ground, coughing up more blood as he did so. "You betrayed me."
Francisca giggled, skipped right up to him, and then lightly patted the former Ruler on the cheek. "That's one way of looking at it. But, in my defense, I did fulfill my end of our little bargain, Mr. Fake Priest. I promised to help you gain access to the Grail. I just never promised to help you actually succeed in achieving your stupid wish. I just needed the door open, so that now, my goals can be accomplished."
"And… what goals would those be?"
"Now, now. That would be telling, and I don't want to tell you, as I am really not one for villainous monologues. But, I will thank you for the extra servants, and the command seals, which I will be taking now"
She then reached for his chest, her hand glowing. As she did, to her visible surprise, Shirou actually laughed, making her pause. "What's so funny, Mr. Priest?"
"All those years ago, when we struck our bargain, I knew that I was making a deal with the devil. A saint and a demon… never was there a better or worse match made in hell."
"So?"
He kept laughing. "So, when one does such a thing, you should always make sure to create an escape clause, even if you're a Saint."
Francisca raised an eyebrow as she looked upon the impaled priest. "You actually think that you can worm your way out of this?"
"No, not me, but I did help three others escape. I was sad that it required the sacrifice of Semiramis, and that I had to keep her in the dark, but, at least Lancer and Archer and Rider will be free to fight you."
"What are you talking about?"
Before she could do anything else, the seals on his chest glowed through his shirt, and then suddenly vanished, when a rune on his forehead that had not been there before suddenly and briefly glowed, before vanishing along with the command seals.
Her eyes wide, she yanked out one of the weapons in his shoulder, ignoring his grunt of pain as she did so, and swiftly cut open his shirt. All she saw was just tan and scarred skin. The crimson command seals were gone, and along with the contracts to Rider, Archer, and Lancer.
"What just happened? Where are they? Tell me where they are, you fucking fake priest!"
At her minor outburst, Shirou actually started to laugh. "When Risei Kotomine, the man who adopted me after the Third War, let me go my own way as Fuyuki burned, a day that he marked as my birthday in this new time, he gave me a very strange gift; twelve pristine command seals, left over from the first three Fuyuki Wars. Even I did not have a need for so many, so… I used them as collateral when I struck a second bargain."
"Who with? Whom did you transfer their contracts to?"
He smiled a bloody thing. "Oh, I think you know. As you once so succinctly put it, she's 'that consoling witch who is eternally alive.'"
Francisca's eyes actually widened in surprise.
"I knew the moment that I shook your hand that you were working some sinister plot, and that it would involve my death, so, I had a plan B ready. In return for her help in securing Semiramis' relic, I gave her first my adopted father's gift, as well as information on you, and access to the rest of the seals, and any Servant contracts I would procure in the future. I guarantee that she has not forgotten you, Prelati, and she is hungry for revenge. As of this moment, The Witch of The Shadowlands now has all twenty-nine of my Command Seals, along with Archer, Lancer, and Rider…" He paused to cough up some phlegm and blood. "Whatever you're planning… you're going to lose."
Francisca looked at him blankly for a long moment, as he knelt there, slowly bleeding out onto the darkening ground, and then… she laughed. The little monster laughed so loud and so long that she had to bend over, with tears dripping down her cheeks. Horrifically though, the mirth did not reflect in her wide eyes. In fact, it may have been a trick of the light, but… he thought that she actually seemed scared.
She then slapped him across his smiling face, hard; so much that Shirou felt his left eyeball become brutally dislodged from its socket to end up rolling on the floor. She then beamed at him toothily as she wiped her eyes. "Thanks so much for the laugh, Mr. Fake Saint. I'll be sure to remember it to as I walk over that immortal witch's undying corpse. Any last words before you die, a deathbed confession, perhaps? I did used to be a cardinal after all."
He looked at her with his one remaining eye, coughing and spitting up more blood as he did so. It was getting so hard to breath. "I have only one thing to say, Prelati… I will forgive you all your sins."
With a final chuckle at that statement, the ancient magus snapped her fingers.
With a transparently bored and emotionless expression in his mismatched eyes, The Broken soul of Rust and Time walked up behind Shirou and beheaded the Youthful Rebel with the Miike Tenta Mitsuyo. As the light went out of Shirou's eyes, and the feeling left his body and limbs, he thought he heard the killer murmur, "And I will remember your death."
As the body and head of the slain Saint fell to the ground with two wet splats before dissipating, the goddess' captains, along side Francisca and Caster, watched as the darkness emanating from the goddess' hand continued to swarm about and fill up the Greater Grail, and the last bit of gold light was extinguished.
A strange and terrible droning could be heard from it and all about, getting steadily louder, until the droning became a voice, and what the voice said was indeed a terrible thing, even as it spoke like it was reverently reciting a passage from the Bible…
The starting penalty is five. Life penalty, body penalty, freedom penalty, fame penalty, fortune penalty. Give the penalty that extends so much punishment, mud, darkness, and malice. "Elimination of human rights by castration, exile, execution" "Torture and sadism upon the body through digestion" "Denial by consensus of the colony that eliminates all honor"
die
"Scorn from the judgment and selfishness that takes away men's fortunes." death penalty penal servitude imprisonment custody fine penalty, crime from a grudge, crime from self-interest, unconscious crime, self-conscious crime, civil war, inducement, false statement, theft, robbery, kidnap, suicide, rape, arson, bombing, violation, negligent homicide, mass violence, death at work, overconfident accident,
die
misdiagnosis, concealment, violation for benefit, violation for self-protection, violation for love, violation for respect, selfish █████. Stealing fraudulent fraud concealment murder theft crime crime personal grudge attack attack attack attack dirty dirty dirty you are dirty atone atone atone atone every violence every crime every victim atone for everything "This world is ruled by something not human" Know the conscience to reform crimes.
die
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Know the penalty to reform crimes. People's kindness is here. There is so much it cannot be noticed. Know the violence to hide crimes. Know the power to hide crimes. People's malignance is here. It is so rare that it is noticed. A hundred kindnesses and one malignance. Malignance shines bright to keep the balance and exists as a great "evil" to compete with the masses of kindness. The starting penalty is five
die
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die
die
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█ █ for self █ █ for self █ █ for self █ █ for self █ █ for self █ █ for self █ █ for self █ █ for self █ █ for self █ █ for self █ █ for self █ █ for self █ █ for self █ █ for self █ █ for self inducement, false statement, theft, robbery, kidnap, suicide, rape, arson, infringement, dirty dirty dirty dirty dirty dirty you are dirty atone atone atone atone atone atone every violence every crime every victim atone atone atone with death!
Then, from the fissure in the center of the Grail, amorphous figures began to drip out, while the Draconic Banner that Gilles firmly held in his hands began to glow.
There was a flash of black light, and then, sssembled and kneeling before the goddess and Gilles were fourteen knights, each clad in lordly armor and weapons.
The goddess recognized each of them, and smiled. "It's good to see you again, my friends. Please, rise."
They did, rising as one, and she saw their heraldry marked clear and plain upon their steel breast plates: the three flour-de-lis of Alencon, the green tree of Aulon, the black lion of Baudricort, the three wheat sheathes of Brosse... all the way to the white lions and red crosses of Xaintrellis.
Her loyal knights, once more at her side, and ready for war, while their forces were but an order away from materialization.
The goddess then turned to her other captains. "We have access to our armies. Now, we will head towards the Mountain."
Gilles nodded, drew his sword, and turned towards Francisca and Gilles. "Of course, now, if you would allow me, I will rid the World of the stain of these two monsters."
Caster laughed. "What's wrong, Gilles? Not happy to see an old friend?"
Before the wrathful Saber Alter could cut down the blasphemous former Cardinals where they stood, the goddess barred her general and friend's path with her arm. "There is no need for that, my friend."
"No need? Do you not remember who he is? What he did, to you, to me?"
The smile never left her face. "Of course I remember. But these two… they have already accepted my love. They are more than willing to help me, help us in achieving our goals, so to atone for the sins of the past. As such, I have absolved them. I only ask that you do the same."
Others would have hesitated, but Gilles did not. He sheathed his sword, and bowed before her. "Of course, my goddess. Your word is my command."
Still, he did shoot the demonic pair a glare as he rose from his bow.
Francisca chuckled. "Well then, shall we get going, friends?"
As they all headed towards the throne room, one remained behind for a moment.
The brown-and-white-haired priest looked down at the spot where Shirou Kotomine's body had once laid, his golden crucifix glinting briefly.
Then, he shook his head, and walked away.
Millennia Castle, Now
"Trust me," Scathach said. "Whatever the thing that calls itself Prelati is planning, then I can assure you all that the World will end up suffering greatly for it, if we don't act as soon as possible. From what I saw in my scrying in the Shadowlands before coming here, that fortress of theirs is heading towards the ocean, in the direction of Japan."
El-Melloi II swore loudly. That meant there was only one place they could be going, and thus things had defiantly gotten more complicated. "Fuck. They're going to Fuyuki. So, in that case, what can we do now?"
The Caster of Black then cleared his throat, rubbed his bearded chin. "With the way things are now, we should be able to move out with a sufficient force of homunculi in about a day, if you think it best, Lady Fiore."
Everyone in the room looked towards the girl in the wheelchair, who seemed to be doing her best not to squirm under all the attention.
"I-I must consider all our options. Excuse me, please."
To everyone else, that was the unofficial signal to disperse until further notice.
As everyone left, Chiron quickly shot Caules a knowing look, which did not go unnoticed by the Caster of Blue…
Later
Caules looked at his sister as they ate their little midnight meal. She then noticed. "What is it?" she asked.
He sighed, and then cleared his throat. "I was just wondering what you are going to do, Fiore."
"What do you mean?"
"If what Scathach told us was true, then every moment that we linger here gives Prelati longer to move forward in whatever plan it has for the Grail. Of course, that is without taking into account what the Magus Association will do, once that fortress leaves our territory."
She looked down into her lap. "I already know that, Caules."
The bespectacled boy looked out the window, at the slowly rising sun. "Yggdmillennia had put everything we had into this rebellion; our blood, our magical energy, our wealth, and even our flesh… so, if we were to lose now, then it would have all been for nothing."
"… I am extremely aware of that as well, little brother."
Caules would have been a fool not to register the hesitation in her voice. "Listen," he said, turning back from the window to look his sister straight in the eye. "If you, as a mage, truly desire to seek the Holy Grail, then we need to depart as soon as possible. Tomorrow, even."
"I told you, I know that already!" She all but screamed at him. "What exactly are you trying to prove here, Caules?"
Despite her outburst, she held his gaze for but a moment, and then looked away.
He resisted the urge to sigh. It seemed that Chiron was right.
Still, he had to make sure. "I just… I think that this is a turning point for you, Fiore."
"What? Wh-what are you trying to say?"
"Make a choice."
Despite the look in her eye, he knew he had to continue. "What is it that you really want? Is it to be a mage? Or would you prefer to be a normal human? You're going to have to choose which of these paths to fully embrace."
Her eyes widened at that. "What is the meaning of this, Caules? Are you trying to tell me that I should stop being a mage?"
"That is something that you have to decide for yourself."
"Th-then the answer should be obvious! I choose…"
"Please," Caules interjected. "Just take a moment and think. No matter the justification behind it, the truth is that you hate death, right?"
"Yeah, but…"
"Do you remember our dog?"
Her face grew ashen at his mention of their pet. He then watched as her eyes began to grow heavy and wet. "I… I do. I will always remember it, and what happened. How could I ever allow myself to forget such a thing?"
"I know, but why is that?"
"Because… I just can't! Should I allow myself to forget that tragedy, I would be allowing its spirit to just fade away. How could I call myself human if I let such a thing just happen?"
It was her use of that particular word that told him her true answer. Chiron had been right.
Caules sighed, and then smiled sadly. "You're really not cut out to be a magus, are you, sis?"
She was silent for a moment, the shock on her face at his statement apparent. Then, she too smiled sadly, as tears began to slowly drip down her cheeks. "I guess you're right… Maybe… maybe I just hesitated a bit too much. I guess I'm just too weak."
He shook his head and took her hand. "No. You're not weak, Fiore. You're just human, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that."
For a while, neither said anything, and he just held her hand as she quietly wept.
After a long moment, she wiped her eyes, gave him a smile, and then rolled herself away from the table.
As he watched Fiore wheel herself away, Caules heard the sound of clapping. He turned to behold the bulky and tall Caster of Blue, grinning at him with his strange, checkerboard teeth. "Way to take control there, bro! Top notch stuff!"
His smile then widened, and his eyes slightly narrowed. "Real protagonist move, bro!"
Caules' eyes widened at that last, familiar statement, and his verbiage. Everything clicked. "You!"
He was not quite sure what happened next. He vaguely remembered jumping up from his chair towards the tall man, and, the next thing he knew, his right hand was throbbing.
The Caster servant gave him a bemused expression at his attempt. "Really? Did ya forget that I'm a Servant, bro? What did you expect would happen if ya tried to punch me like that?"
"You blackmailed me, you bastard!"
"Oh please. I gave ya info in return! It wss mutual exchange, not blackmail!"
"Mutual exchange?! I couldn't use any of the information that you gave me, or else my family would have gotten suspicious, and killed me on the spot!"
"Well, it's not my fault that ya have such a messed up little family, bro! Besides, if I hadn't been blackmailing you, then ya probably wouldn't be where you are now!"
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Yer about to become the new head of Yggdmillennia, ain't ya? Yer really becoming a first rate protagonist! Also, if it hadn't been for me telling ya about Jack, then yer pretty little sister would have probably ended up a pretty little splatter on a wall."
Despite his anger at the verbose servant, Caules, reluctantly, had to admit that the man had a point. However, one question was still bugging him. "Why did you do this? Why did you blackmail me?"
"Couple'a reasons. First, it was because you were the only one out of this whole, creepy lot that owned a computer. Second, it was because I was just feeling really bored. But, third… well, that was because I found ya to be both kind of boring, and interesting."
"What?"
"I researched yer creepy family after I was summoned. I saw you… the spare, the one that everyone else in yer family would not even blink at killing… the one that no one would even notice or care if ya disappeared off the face of the earth, and, thus, in other words, yore the perfect basis for a protagonist, or, if ya'd rather, a hero; a useless little nobody who has been slowly turning into a big and useful somebody. All ya just needed was a little push in the right direction."
Caules glared at him, and then turned around walked away. As he did, the Caster called out one last time. "Sure, it's hard being a hero, Caules Yggdmillennia, even for a thief and a faker like me. But, in the end, what would you prefer to be, bro? Someone who never once mattered, or someone who was able ta make a difference? All it really takes is just once choice, bro."
A moment later, a great explosion could be heard outside.
Bazett was feeling both very nervous, and very excited, at the moment. Who could blame her, when she was being looked over by Cu Chulainn's teacher, Scathach?
After the meeting in the throne room had finished, the armored woman had dismissed her three servants, grabbed both Bazett and Cu by the arms, and dragged them out of the room.
A moment later, the three of them were standing outside in the Castle's courtyard, where Rider had hesitantly introduced her to his teacher, while in the distance, the moon and stars still hung in the sky like silent sentinels.
The Witch of the Shadowlands stroked her chin as she looked over Bazett once again. "hmm… not bad, Setanta. It looks like she has some potential."
Bazett could not help but beam at the praise. "Though, she still seems pretty fucking green."
…. That was all right. She was not going to silently cry into her pillow later.
Cu awkwardly scratched the back of his head. "You don't have to be so mean about, teacher. She's already been in battle."
"Alright. I'll give her that. You've been teaching her runes?"
"Yep, and I can tell you that my Master here is a very quick study."
The Witch nodded, and then looked right at her. "Well, girl? Are you mute? Speak up."
"I-I can take care of myself, ma'am!"
That got the raise of a maroon eyebrow. "Good to know."
Then, to Bazett's surprise, The Teacher of Setanta suddenly leaned in and… sniffed her. "There's a familiar scent on you, girlie…. What family are you from again?"
"F-Fraga."
"Fraga, eh? Tell me, does your family still have that? Course, your not a full Fraga, are you?"
"Y-yes, we still have it. A-also, no, I also have Icecolle blood in my veins."
"Never head of them."
After that, there was an awkward silence. Then, the Warrior-Witch shrugged. "All-in-all Setantna, I must admit, you've found a good one here. Nice work."
Suddenly, they all heard a massive explosion…
Achilles and Brynhildr stood side by side, awkwardly looking at the trio across from them.
The three women each bore a rather familiar resemblance to Brynhildr. The one on the left had short black hair cut pageboy style covered by a white hood. The one in the middle had shoulder-length pink hair. Finally, the one on the right had long blonde hair that reached the small of her back. The trio was garbed in identical sets of white robes and finely crafted suits of leather and metal armor.
All three of them had red eyes with white slit pupils, and all six of these orbs were currently staring at the Rider and Lancer of Red, but mostly at Achilles.
"…Ortlinde, Hildr, Thrud… It's good to see you three again."
"Yes… it is good to see you again, sister."
This was starting to go well beyond the horizon of awkward.
Make no mistake; Brynhildr loved her sister Valkyries dearly. It was just that, unlike her, they had not really been created with any, well… personality. It was more accurate to call them automatons than anything else.
So yes… this felt awkward.
The youngest, Ortlinde, then looked at her, and did something that seemed to be a smile. "You look… happy."
"That makes us glad."
"You should always be happy, sister."
… That was very kind of them. "Thank you, sisters."
The three then all looked directly at Achilles. "So, who's this?"
Before anything more could be said, there was a loud explosion.
Kairi walked up to Mordred, who was glaring out the window. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Like I said earlier, I'm fine."
He looked out through the glass, and saw that she was glaring at Saber of blue and his hooded master, who were standing out in the darkened fields.
Kairi idly tapped his fingers against the pane for a moment, and then sighed. This was probably going to be a bad idea… Oh, what the hell. "You want to fight him? Then go ahead."
That drew a surprised look from her.
"Are you fucking with me? You used a command seal to keep me from doing just that!"
"No, because if you remember, my order was just for you to calm down at the moment."
At his next words, Mordred's head shot up. "I never said you couldn't still attack him."
She did not grin, but her eyes narrowed, and she shifted into her armor with a small flash.
"Whatever emotions you two have brewing in your systems in regards to each other, you need to let them out, so, as your Master, I'm asking that you do so. If you don't then they're just going to brew and boil, until they explode, and trust me? That never ends well, for anyone. As reluctant as I am to let you do this, you still need to. Better to get it over with now, rather than later."
As she stomped off, he called out again. "Just don't turn this into Camlann again!"
She flipped him off in reply.
It was odd, and yet comforting, to Arthur Pendragon how, even after 1500 years, in a new time and place, far from his native land, the moon and stars were still the same.
"Are you alright, Saber?"
Arthur studied his descendant's face. When he had been summoned, he had been greatly surprised upon seeing her, as well as the fact that they were related by blood. He wondered which of his issue she may have been descended from.
The shape of her eyes pointed to Borre, perhaps…
He looked at his master as he considered her question, and then shrugged. "Meeting Mordred, face to face again… what parent could ever be prepared for seeing the face of their own child, a child that they killed with their own hands?"
Gray said nothing, so Arthur continued. "She hates me, and rightfully so. To say that I was a terrible parent would be a massive understatement. Her very phantasm is proof of that. What could I ever say to her, that could penetrate such undying hatred?"
The hooded girl shrugged, but before she could reply, a shout echoed across the field.
"ARTHUR!"
At the moment that he heard the exclamation, his red coat glowed, and the sword, Dyrnwyn was already in hand, while Gray leapt out of the way, as the king's wayward child, now fully armored, save for her helmet, smashed into him.
As the other residents of the Millennia Castle clambered out to the field, they were greeted with a terrible sight.
The red lighting of Clarent smashed against the white fire of Dyrnwyn with a roar like a dragon. To any of the viewers who were familiar with the Arthurian legends, especially Gray, it seemed like a White Dragon fighting a Red Dragon.
The irony was in no way lost on the hooded girl as she watched her two ancestors clash.
"Damn it," El-Melloi II yelled as the two knights exchanged blows. "We don't have time for this."
Before he could call out to the two combatants, Iskander blocked him with a meaty arm. "Not yet, Waver. Let these two fight out their aggressions and frustrations towards one another."
Kairi Sisigou nodded. "They need this, the both of them. If they don't, then they will in no way be able to cooperate."
El-Melloi II raised an eyebrow at the strange logic.
"Besides," his king added, as he pointed at the bout. "If you look closely, neither is really trying to kill the other. This is not really a battle… this is a simple venting of frustration."
"Where's your real sword, father?" Mordred snarled, as he slashed from the side with Clarent, only to be blocked by the White Knight's blade. "Where is Excalibur? Did it judge you to no longer be worthy of carrying it? Why do you not bare the edge of the Sword of Promised Victory against me?"
"I have no desire to use that sword, especially against you, Mordred."
Mordred's replay was a mighty scream of "Red Thunder!"
Seemingly without thinking, the king of Camelot let loose a burst of white fire to counteract against the blast of Red Thunder.
"Why?" Mordred screamed, and he slashed away without pause, though each was just as quickly dodged and parried by his father. "Why did you not give me the throne, father? Did you truly hate me that much, you hypocritical bastard? Was it because I was illegitimate? That's rich, coming from you. I was still your first born!"
As they each struggled against the other in the blade lock, Arthur Pendragon looked his son right in the eye.
"No, it was never that. I never once hated you, Mordred, for anything."
Those words made Mordred freeze in surprise, so much so that he failed to block his father's fist from smashing into his son's armored chest, sending the Red Knight flying back from the White Knight.
As they both stood there, panting, everyone waited with baited breath. Then to the surprise of all, the Once and Future king of Britain stabbed his white sword into the ground, and then… simply stood there and let his arms hang at his side, in a strange, inviting gesture.
….
….
This bastard. THIS FUCKING BASTARD!
How dare he? How DARE HE?!
Her eyes widening in rage and surprise at the Saber of Blue's strange action, all watched as Mordred screamed and shot towards her father, Clarent blazing with angry power and lightening.
Then, the White King of the Red Dragon said two words… two simple words that made the knight of Treachery arrest herself and freeze mid-swing, The Royal Sword's sharp and tarnished edge barely an inch from his royal throat.
"I'm sorry."
For a long moment, there was nothing but silence, as father and child remained almost frozen in place.
"I am sorry, Mordred. I know that nothing I can say could ever truly heal the rage in your heart that you feel towards me. All I can say, though, is I am sorry, sorry for what I did to you, for how I turned you aside. Never once did I ever hate you for what you did, for I was just as much to blame for Camelot's fall as you and your mother. I guess in the end, I simply forgot how to be human. All I can hope now is that someday, somehow, you can forgive me, for being such a kingly fool. If the only way to do that is for you to kill me once again, then, once we save the world, I promise that you can have your vengeance. I will welcome it, in fact."
They both stared at the other, while all the observers held their breath in fear and anticipation of what would happen next.
Clarent's edge began to shake, and then… Mordred lowered the blade to her side, and then dropped it to the ground with a thud.
To everyone's surprise, tears then began to drip down her face, while her fists shook. "You fucking bastard. What… what gives you the right to say such a stupid thing like that?"
The king looked honestly surprised at that statement.
"I don't know if I can ever forgive you, you bastard. But now… now I can't kill you… I never could… you fucking bastard! I don't want to kill you…"
As tears continued to stream down her face, she collapsed to the ground, while the king just stood there, unsure of what to do.
Then, alsomt hesitantly, he knelt and reached out his hand to lay it on her shoulder. She half-heartedly tried to shake him off, but it still remained there.
Then tears began to fall down the face of the king, though his face showed no other signs of sadness. "I'm so sorry, Mordred. I'm so sorry, my son."
For a while, all that could be heard was the shared tears of a parent and his child dripping onto the ground like rain drops.
Once the battle in the fields had ended, everyone had begun to trickle back into the castle. Notably, Mordred was no longer glaring at her father's back.
Once they were inside, Fiore gave her last orders as the head of Yggdmillennia. "We move out as soon as possible. We have to stop Prelati."
Her brother nodded. "We can make some calls, and rent several jets to Fuyuki city."
Caules then went to get the phone….
Bucharest Henri Coandă International Airport
For Vasile Albu, it was a slow day at the airport. Of course, at this time of the year, tourist season was extremely slow, plus, at this time of the morning, there was little to no foot traffic.
Then, the phone at his desk began to ring. After a single ring he answered it.
"Bună ziua, Aeroportul Internațional Henri Coandă din București. Cu ce vă pot ajuta?"
The voice, a slighty accented male's, repiled in a dignified and concise manner that befitted it's owner. It was alos a voice and sentence that he had never expected to hear in his life time, knowing it only from stories passed down in his family.
"Care este dinamica matematică a unui asteroid?" Instinctivly, Vasile knew the correct answer. "Un cer, profesor." "Înțelegi ce să faci, domnule Albu?" "Fac." "Bun. Îți faci mândria de sânge." "Mulțumesc. Sunt dincolo de onoare, profesor."
As the phone on the other end clicked shut, Vasile stood up, straightened his clothing, and walked out of his booth, pocketing a screwdriver and lighter as he left. Eyes straight, and posture firm and upright, he strode through the nearly empty airport, to maintenance. He descended the stairs towards the piping, and found the room that he was searching for.
With the steel screwdriver, he managed to create a leak.
That was all he needed. As the room became filled with a low hissing noise, he withdrew his lighter, and flicked it open. Then, there was nothing but fire…
Hanging Gardens of Babylon
The Professor shut his cell-phone with a smile. That ought to slow down their pursuers considerably.
"Is it done, Moriarty?" His "goddess" asked.
"Of course, your worship."
The Masters and Servants looked upon the images on the television in shock, the flaming wreckage of the Bucharest Henri Coandă International Airportclear for all to see.
El-Melloi II swore again. "They knew we would follow them. Fuck."
"How the hell are we supposed to catch up to them now?"
Blackmore then cleared his throat, though the look on his face made it seem as if he wished he did not have to. "I might have another way. First, we need to get to the coast…"
A beach near Trifas
With some slight trepidation, Blackmore withdrew from his coat pocket what appeared to be a well-worn boatswain's whistle. After a moment of looking at the thing, he put the instrument up to his lips, and blew. From it came three sharp and loud notes; low, high, and then low again.
One moment…
Two moments…
Three.
Mist could then be seen gathering off the coast, until it was right at the shore itself. Then… the sound of creaking wood and groaning metal upon the waves filled the air.
Suddenly, from the mist came a wet dinghy, being rowed ashore by dark and indistinct figures.
The boat docked upon the shore, and a man stepped off it onto the wet sand, as an explorer would a new land that he planned to conquer.
The man was tall, and his skin was the color of pale ash with a slight green tinge, like a freshly drowned corpse, while his hair and elegantly trimmed beard was as pale as bone. His armor was the color of a nighttime sea, with bony spikes and ridges, and, grotesquely, what seemed to be actual lichen and coral growing out of the armor. At his side were belted a serrated rapier with an ornate basket hilt, and a boarding axe, while strapped across his chest were several pistols of various designs and time-periods. Over and under all of this was a bright red and ragged coat with white and gold highlights and threading, along with a dazzling display of medals and buckles and straps.
His most arresting features, however, were the black eye patch over one eye, the scars across the right side of his face, where the eye patch was, and his visible one, which was as red as a setting sun that had been drenched in a horizon and sea of blood. Another eye-catching thing about him was that an albatross with black feathers and red eyes was perched upon one of the larger spines of his armor.
Resting upon his head was a pristine Spanish admiral's tricorn hat, with a large blue feather tucked into its brim. The article stood out like white upon a black chalkboard
This figure, though darkly dashing, still cut quite the picture of a ravenous pirate and bloodthirsty rogue, eager and ready to spill blood at the slightest provocation.
He looked upon the assembled group of Masters, Servants, and Homunculi, his leather and steel not making a single noise as he moved, before he settled upon Blackmore, and smiled, revealing sharp, pearly white incisors.
"Little Dan Blackmore. This is a surprise. You have gotten old. How long has it been, for you to get so wrinkly and… unappetizing? I was beginning to think that you were never going to call upon me, that you had forgotten poor, little old Fina. It has been a constant agony in my heart, wondering how long you would hold those naughty little favors over my head, like the doom of Damocles itself."
Blackmore's eyes narrowed, and his grip tightened on his cane. "It has been over thirty years, Svelton. Thirty years since you took my leg, that night off the coast of Afghanistan. Trust me, I could not forget you, as much as I might wish otherwise."
The Dead Apostle Ancestor smirked, his fangs glinting in the night. "Must you still be so angry with me about that? As I recall, I did apologize most profusely for that little tantrum of mine, didn't I? But, could you really blame me? You did take my eye, after all, and, because of that biting blade that you used, it still will not heal. You scarred my immaculate face, and thus left me with a visage that only a mother could ever hope to love."
At that last statement, everyone, even Scathach, then looked upon Sir Blackmore with a good bit of healthy respect and disbelief.
Then, the vampire's "visage-that-only-a-mother-could-love" turned quite serious. "So, what do you want?"
"We need your help. We have to get to Fuyuki City."
"Japan eh? I have not visited that island nation in decades. May one ask why you and your coterie of… sumptuous-looking friends felt the need to call upon me and my ships to get you there?"
"Nothing less than the end of the world."
The bloodsucker stroked his chin, and then waved a hand. "Hmm… Sorry, but I am not interested."
"Excuse me?"
"I may owe you a few favors, Blackmore, after what you did for me, but, it is still my choice whether or not to carry them out. I am still a creature of comfort, and so far, you have not told me what I could gain from helping to transport you and your little group to the land of the Rising Sun."
"I would have thought that your continued existence would be of great value to you, Svelton."
"Maybe, but only if I am interested enough to care, and, right now, face to face with you, standing on this damp and dank Romanian shore, I must say that my interest has already waned considerably. So I shall now take… my..."
He then looked towards Caster of Black and Scathach, and he paused in his dismissal as his eye widened and danced with recognition. The vampire then walked past Blackmore, almost shoving him aside, and stepped right up to the artist and the witch, as they happened to be standing side by side. He then proceeded to kiss each of them on the hand, and then square on the lips, to the shock of everyone else present. "Maestro Da Vinci! I never thought to see you again in this lifetime, mi amore! And Lady Scathach, why you look as ravishing as ever before, just as you did when we last met. What are you two doing here with little Blackmore?"
The genius of Vinci chuckled. "It's a long story, old friend."
The Witch of the Shadowlands nodded. "Indeed it is, you crusty bloodsucker."
The pirate laughed, while everyone else looked at the trio with disbelief. "Oh, you do make me blush, you really do. Well, if you two are involved in whatever is going on, then I now see no reason to refuse little Blackmore's request. You all are welcome aboard my fleet. I shall help you in your endeavor to save the World. Come, come, there is not a moment to waste!"
As he said this, he snapped his fingers, and a plethora of more boats floated from the mist. "These will help transport you and whatever you may need to my flag ship." He then turned and linked his arms between Vinci and Scathach's. "As for you two, why, you must come with me to my personal quarters. We have got to get reacquainted with one another. It has been far too long as it is."
The trio than stepped onto his dinghy, and it floated away, while, overhead, Caster of Black's mechanical bird, and Fina-Blood Svelton's albatross flew about, their squawks and trills filling the air.
As everyone else watched them go, Roche, oddly enough, was the first to break the dumbfounded silence. "Well, let's not just stand here! Let's get going!"
An hour later of loading everything they needed on to the boats, including homunculi soldiers, a few golems, and various pieces of Caster's equipment, they all started to drift away in near uniform away from the shore, and through the mist.
Almost a moment later, they were through, and were greeted with the sight of Fina-Blood Svelton's ship, and it was quite the strange sight.
It was a massive thing, and yet it seemed a bizarre and seamless fusion of ships from all sorts of time periods, including a Spanish galleon, a Greek trireme, a Portuguese carrack, a US aircraft carrier, a yacht, somehow… and many others.
Across the side of the ship was the word 'Danse Macabre.'
As they neared the side, several hooks and winches were lowered to hook onto the smaller boats.
Upon being fully raised to one of the middle levels of the ship, members of the crew, a strange collection of ephemeral figures, gruesome Dead, fanged Dead Apostles, and even a few humans, though they were more than likely Magi. They were all clothed in a motley collection of different sea-faring uniforms; some like stereotypical pirates, other in Navy uniforms from around the globe and time periods.
One vampire, dressed as a lieutenant in the English Navy of the Edwardian era, gestured to the group. "Welcome aboard. I am Hornblower, one of the first mates of the Fleet. Allow me to show you all to your cabins. The Admiral has given you all leave to explore the ship at your leisure, but he asks that you not disturb him while he is entertaining his two personal guests…"
The cabin given to El-Melloi II, Gray, Flat, Rider, Saber, and Berserker was a very spacious thing, and rich in decoration, if somewhat antiquated. It was furnighed with three beads, a massive closet, and two large chests.
Flat was then the first to break the silence, as he sat down on the bed. "So… how awesome is all of this? We're on a super awesome ghost pirate ship!"
Gray and El-Melloi II looked at the student in exasperation, while Rider just laughed, Berserker groaned, and Saber shook his head.
"You stupid idiot," the Lord said. "You do realize that we're on a ship captained by one of the Dead Apostle Ancestors, right? He's one of the most dangerous creatures on the planet!"
"So?"
The Lord than and looked at his two students as he spoke again. "Listen… for what it's worth, I'm sorry that you two got dragged into all of this."
They both smiled at their teacher faintly. "You're not to blame for what's been happening, Lord El-Melloi II," Gray said. "You've always done your best to help us."
"Yep!" Flat said. "In fact, if I'm being honest? This is all I've ever wanted, teacher. Going with you on an adventure, and helping you, repaying you for all the kindness that you've shown me over the years."
The Lord felt taken aback by the earnestness in his bumbling student's voice. "Flat…"
The boy then smiled widely. "Yeah, so, can I go exploring, Mr. Big Ben London Super Star?!"
…. And the moment just passed.
Gray just shook her head as her teacher began to scold Flat again for using that idiotic nickname.
Then, Rider stood up, and headed towards their cabin door. El-Melloi II paused in his smacking of flat over the head. "Where are you going, your Majesty?"
The King of Macedonia grinned his wide grin. "Like the boy just said, we are on a ghost ship. I want to explore, and talk with the other members of our little Alliance. Get some rest while you can, Masters. From what the Witch told all of us, you may need it…"
Surgery of the Danse Macabre
Lying next to his sister on this rickety surgeons table that was covered in what he hoped was not bloodstains, dressed only in a shift, on a creepy ghost ship… Caules was starting to wonder if he should be having second thoughts.
Chiron loomed over them, along with the ship's surgeon, a creepy, ghoulish figure with grey skin, a leather apron, and a small assortment of old cutting tools and instruments hanging from his belt, like the bone saw that Caules was currently doing his best not to look at out of the corner of his eye.
According to that first mate, Hornblower, this creep was very skilled in healing magecraft and spiritual surgery.
Fiore merely had a small smile on her lips as she turned her head towards him. 'Are you having second thoughts, Caules.
The ship creaked. Caules gulped, and attempted a chuckle. "Nope. No second thoughts. Why would I? Just because I'm an inferior mage, and this might have a chance of killing me? Since we're on a ghost ship, that just means that if I die, I already know where I'm going."
The surgeon tittered, and it sent shivers down Caules spine. "Such a snarky little boy. You would be lucky if that happened to you in this fleet. Don't worry though, I'll be right here, ready to stich you two back up if anything breaks… well, that or cut something off. I do enjoy the latter, all things considered."
The thing kept chuckling, even as Chiron leveled a look at the undead being. Then, the centaur sage looked back down at the siblings.
Fiore's face grew serious. "Please, just pull yourself together, little brother. The moment that his ritual has reached its conclusion, you will stand as the new Leader of Yggdmillennia."
Chiron then spoke up. "In my experience, once this begins, it would be best for us to go slow, and transplant the pieces of the crest little by little."
Caules gulped again, steeled his nerves, and then tightly squeezed his sister's hand, which she returned. "I guess there's no other choice then."
Fiore nodded, then looked to the surgeon and the Centaur Sage. "Let us begin."
"Very well."
As Chiron said this, the ship's surgeon held out a hand, and began to murmur under his breath. From his fingertips came dark green glowing tendrils that rested upon the sibling's limbs, like the tubes used to transfuse blood directly from a donor to a patient. They felt cold to the touch.
Then, Fiore's magic circuits lit up. The green glow slowly worked its way through the surgeon's tendrils, inching their way across to Caules' flesh.
The moment the glowing lines touched his skin… it felt like a thousand hot iron needles were being shoved into his spine, and eyes, and bones!
Before he knew it, he was screaming, as his now enflamed circuits began to spark, like faulty wiring.
His sister's eyes shot open at both his screams and how tightly he was gripping her hand. "Caules! You're speeding up the process too quickly! You have to calm down!"
The surgeon chuckled again, as he looked at Chiron. "And you didn't want to tie them down. Well, at least one of them is screaming, so it's not a total waste of my time."
Caules tied to grit his teeth against the pain, and failed. "I… know… but… I can't… stop it!"
"His body and circuits are reacting to the foreign sensation of the crest implantation!" Chiron said.
The surgeon stopped chuckling, his expression now deadly serious. "If the transfer isn't slowed, than his circuits will over-saturate and rupture. I can try to dam the flow a bit, but the rest will still be up to him."
He reached with his free hand into his apron, pulled out a long leather strap, and shoved it into Caules' mouth. "Here! Bite down on this and breathe through your nose, unless you want to loose your tongue boy."
As he spoke, the tendrils coming from his fingers then began to glow darker. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt so much!
It was now feeling like his limbs were being slowly torn out of his sockets.
Out side the room, they could all here the worried bellowing of Asterios.
"Caules," Fiore exclaimed. "Just listen to me. Try and just focus on my voice! Caules!"
For a moment, everything went white….
… The wind blew a gentle breeze that ruffled through the field of grass and flowerswith a kindly whoosh, while the sun radiated warmth and light.
He knew this place. He had lived here his entire life.
It was so peaceful.
At the sound of wheels upon the grass, he turned around, and was greeted with another familiar sight.
It was a little girl, in a wheel chair. Clutched in her tiny hand was a leash, and at the end of the long line of fabric was a dog.
With a wagging tail, the canine barked in recognition, while the girl just stared at him, blankly.
Slowly, he approached the pair.
He knew them.
Once he was near, he knelt down in front of her. For a long moment, they did nothing but stare into the other's eyes, both the same light blue.
Then, she gave him a smile, so full of gentle pity and kindness, and held out her open hand. The dog leash lay within it, waiting to be taken up.
He looked down at it, then back up at her, and nodded with a smile of his own.
"Thank you," he said. "I promise that I'll take good care of it."
As he reached out to take it, everything faded…
As Caules' eyes slowly opened and readjusted to the dim light, he found the surgeon, Fiore, and Chiron looking over him, while, further back, Asterios' large head peeked in through the door with a worried expression.
"Looks like he's still alive," the surgeon grumbled. "Pity. We could have used a new cabin boy."
Everyone else ignored him. "Caules," his sister said. "Can you hear me?"
He tried to answer, but everything just felt so sore. With a groan, he slowly tried to sit up on the table, as the ship kept rocking. "Please," Chiron warned, as he steadied the boy. "Try not to strain yourself. You body is still recovering from the ritual."
"I'm… fine," Caules gritted out. "It's nothing."
As he sucked in several happy breathes of ship air, the surgeon handed him a small bottle. "Drink this. It'll help with the pain."
No. No drugs. For what was coming, Caules reckoned that he would need his mind as clear as possible.
Chiron gently smiled down at the siblings. "You did fantastic, Caules Forvedge Yggdmillannia, as did you, Lady Fiore."
The pain was now starting to subside. As it did, Caules gave both his sister and the centaur a wry grin.
A few hallways down, in the cabin given to him and his Master, Alexandre Dumas chuckled as he put away his pen and notebook, and stood up from the writing desk. Despite not being there, he had still seen the whole thing clearly.
Yep, the boy's journey to protagonist was almost complete. Who knew what would happen now, with these revisions to the plot…
In the cabin shown to them by the creepy sailors, Mordred sat down on the bed, lost in thought.
After looking at her for a moment, Kairi stepped out into the hallway. He then flipped open his phone and dialed a number that he had not called in many a year.
It rang once, then twice…. Click
"Hey dad, it's me."
There was silence, but the necromancer knew his father was listening.
"Can we talk?"
An hour later, the other Servants had been alerted by various crewmembers of the ship that the Rider of Blue wanted to speak with them in the dining quarters.
The other Servants, sans Archer of Black (Who was still with Fiore and Caules) and Caster of Black (he and the vampire and the witch were still vigorously "occupied") all gathered around the table in the dining hall where Rider of Blue sat, along side several aged wooden barrels. Even Berserker of Black managed to fit into the dining space
"Come," he said, gesturing about. "Sit, and drink."
They all took a seat, and it was noted that Saber of Red was sitting next to her father.
Mordred was then the first to speak. "What do you want, Rider of Blue?"
Iskander replied by smashing open one of the barrels, and poured each of the other heroes a full goblet. Then, once he was done, he spread out his arms, as if he could envelop all the other heroes seated at the table by his presence alone. "It is quite simple. We are, each of us, mighty heroes, drawn to this strange War from across time and space and beyond the grave by both the Grail and the Counter Force. We are to fight side by side to save this world from those who would wish it harm. As such, to not know each other's wish, here and now, would be a greatly wasted opportunity. If it helps, then I shall start; My Wish is True Incarnation! To stand upon the shores of this world with real flesh, and finish what I started in my first lifetime, to conquer it with my own two hands! Now that I have told you my heart's desire, sit, drink, and tell me yours!"
Gilgamesh actually chuckled at the Rider's audacity as he took a seat. "Your forthrightness and dedication to your beliefs truly amuses me, King of Conquerors." He then took a sip from his goblet and made a face. "Though, your choice in drink does not amuse me in the slightest."
"Oh, but the quarter master of this ship told me that this was one of the captain's finest vintages."
"If that is true, then it would seem our host's taste is not as refined as I had thought. As such, I shall now rectify that."
Over the table, a golden portal deposited a large shining barrel and several gilded cups. The Golden King gestured to it. "Try this, and be amazed."
Now curious, the King of Conquerors filled a cup, and drank it. A moment later, his face lit up in joy. "Remarkable. By Olympus! Never did I imagine that such a taste could exist."
As the other Servants filled their own cups, the room was soon filled with similar exclamations of enjoyment, even from Sherlock Holmes.
Iskander chuckled. "So, then, since you were the next to speak, what's your wish, Goldie? What would you want the Grail for?"
The king of Heroes raised an elegant eyebrow. "Why would I want to wish for something that is already mine by right? This world and all its treasures belong to me. Thus, so does the grail. As such, I have no wish."
"Neither do I," Rider of Black added. "I just want a good fight, nothing more."
Iskander nodded. "What about you, child of my faction's Saber?"
Mordred smirked as she crossed her steel-clad arms. "I want to challenge the sword of Selection, so that I can prove that I can surpass my father as the King of Camelot!"
Gilgamesh snorted at this. "Ridiculous; a rebellious child seeking to surpass the parent that she tried to overthrow? What a farce?"
The Red Knight turned towards him, smashing her hand into the wooden table as she did. "Screw you and your gold-plated asshole. Also, call me a girl again, and you'll regret it!"
The first Hero simply smirked as a single gold portal flared into existence behind him, a shining spear slowly edging out, it's tip gleaming with bloodlust, while everyone else tensed and edged backwards.
"I think it's an admirable wish."
Arthur Pendragon's voice cut through the tension like a razor-sharp sword, and everyone looked at the seated king in surprise.
The White Knight continued, though his face was not smiling. "With a bit of polish, Mordred would make a most admirable king. Perhaps even greater than me."
Iskander laughed again. "Simply magnificent, King of Knights, if not surprising. But what of your wish?"
"I don't have one."
That caught Mordred's attention to be sure. "Wh-what?"
"I have no regrets with how my life ended. I never once did. Should I wish for things to be different? No, for to do so would be an insult to all those who came before and after me."
As he said this, Mordred noted how his face remained impassive. He was not smiling.
As the hours passed, the Servants began to simply talk, with the rest revealing their wishes. It did not fail to escape Iskanders notice that many of the Servants had no wish for the grail.
Very interesting.
Of course, what was more interesting was the he had the chance to speak with Achilles, his childhood idol! His boyhood dreams were coming true! What a great Holy Grail war this was turning out to be, end of the world notwithstanding!
As the hours continued to pass, they were soon joined by the other Masters for a hearty soup that was ladled out by the gruesome members of the Vampire's crew, as well as Fina-Blood Svelton, Scathach, and Leonardo DaVinci, all three of whom were clad in little more than sheer, somewhat loose, robes.
Finally, the conversations began to lull, and each Master and Servant slowly began to go their separate ways, leaving Iskander to toy with his empty glass.
The wishes of heroes and men… how wonderful.
With another shake of his head, the man who had conquered the Known World simply laughed.
A moment later, an explosion shook the entire ship, and aloud ship's bell could be heard.
They were under attack!
The King of Conquerors joined everyone else from all parts of the ship as they all scrambled for the top deck, and there, the crew and passengers were greeted with a sight straight from the depths of Hades itself.
A/N I'll be honest, I am not very sure about this chapter, and I'm sorry it took so long to put this one out. I am trying.
Still, read, review, and enjoy.
As far as The Scene with Mordred and Arthur, as I was writing it, it came to me that, perhaps most of what Mordred really needed from her father was an Apology. In the Red knight's memories in Fate/ Apocrypha, the king is never show to once actually apologize. Granted, Mordred had led a bloody rebellion, but still… Their relationship is not going to suddenly be all happy child and parent after this, and it probably never will be, but, right now? Things are slowly, slowly starting to mend, so they can at least fight side by side with the other.
