I want someone to spend my life with.
I don't care if he's fat or thin, if he's short or tall, young or old. I just want him to not mind the numbers. To let me work on my numbers and maybe hug me a little and tell me I've done well. I want him to have supper with me and tell me about his day. I want to wake up with him in the morning, say goodbye when he leaves and hello when he arrives. I just want these little things. Is it too much to ask?
"Esme, your numbers are so boring! Don't you ever think of anything else?"
"It will be difficult to arrange a marriage for her, with those mediocre mage circuits."
"Her appearance is acceptable, if barely."
"You couldn't find a husband anyway with as boring as you are."
Please, not that. Anything but that. Just let him be kind. I don't ask much really, just don't mind the numbers, please don't mind the numbers.
Is it too much to ask to find someone kind?
Sigurd woke from his rest with the taste of hopeless longing in his mouth.
That dream. Sigurd opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, not seeing the dark stone as his mind truly came to wakefulness. That was Esme's dream, he knew it was, and for that dream to come at this particular time… Oh, princess. Sigurd rolled onto his side to look at his Master. Esme was cuddled into the pink blankets, her face relaxed and innocent in sleep. She doesn't know she's loveable. Sigurd felt a deep sadness as he gazed into her sleeping face. It would take years to fix this, years of time and patience and simply being there, proving he loved her with his simple presence.
As Sigurd watched her, Esme's eyelids fluttered and she made a soft huff. Adorable. Smiling, Sigurd reached out to cup her face. She sighed at his touch and her eyes finally opened. Their gazes met in a moment of perfect warmth and love.
"I love you princess," Sigurd murmured, feeling the truth of it in his soul. He'd fallen in love again and had no regrets. Esme nuzzled his hand for a moment before her eyes suddenly sharpened. She sat up so quickly that her breasts bounced, to Sigurd's interest.
"Oh no! I fell asleep!" Yes, that would be normal after mana transfer. It was hugely draining for the donor. "Sigurd, I love you too but you have to go right now and save the town!" Wait, what?
"What?" Sigurd sat up as well, the soft blankets pooling around his waist. "What has been happening?" It was a bit absurd, getting a mission briefing in bed but any levity quickly fled as Sigurd listened to Esme's story.
"Assassin turned on Caster but she's still alive. We know because she's still draining the ley lines, but from the cavern the Grail is housed in." That… was a sub-optimal strategy at best, mystically speaking, but Sigurd could see why Assassin would favor it. That cavern had only one entrance and it was easily guarded. "Archer came into the tower and died – " Well, that was a shame. Sigurd felt a real pang at the thought, although he'd expected it. "And just after, Caster drained everyone in the town." Esme wrung her hands together, truly distraught. "Sigurd, they're all unconscious!" Sigurd swallowed at the thought. "Archer's Master is trying to keep everyone alive, he's in the hospital right now looking after the babies since they'll dehydrate more quickly but some have gone home, we must have lost some…" Oh dear gods.
"Archer's Master is working with us? Why?" Sigurd asked, trying to clarify if the Master could be trusted. Esme rubbed her eyes for a moment.
"Yes, because even the Church Overseer is unconscious. That means if he doesn't do something to stop this, he'll take the blame with the Clock Tower." Sigurd concentrated on his knowledge of the Clock Tower. Did that make sense? …Yes, it did actually, magus' were obligated to stop 'heretics', magi who harmed humans. Not that they cared about a single human here and there, but a whole town? Yes, he WOULD take the blame if they all died. "He thinks I will too, but he doesn't understand." No, of course not. "Sigurd, Assassin has many bodies… I think he knew about the Tower. He must have sent one in and it died and was so weak we didn't notice." Sigurd closed his eyes for a moment.
"Yes, that's likely," he murmured as he thought about it. Confident in the deadliness of the tower, they'd set up traps solely to draw enemies in. It would look odd if there weren't any after all. What they hadn't done was set up much in the way of detection fields. Why would they? What did it matter if the enemy was stealthy when they were supposed to get in? "Princess, this is a trap." Sigurd could see it clearly. Assassin had waited for Archer to get himself killed, then forced Caster to drain the town. Now he was holed up in a highly defensible position with the entire town for hostages.
"I know, but we have no choice. You have to go in," Esme said softly and Sigurd nodded, resolve firming. There was no choice. "The Grail must have manifested. Sigurd… do you think you can reach it and touch it? At any cost?" Any cost?
"I'm certain I can," Sigurd said slowly. Protecting the Grail would not really occur to Assassin because – "But with three Servants outstanding, no one can win." And doing so would leave him hideously vulnerable to Assassin's attacks. Esme bit her lower lip for a moment and Sigurd blinked at the odd feeling he was getting from her. "Esme?" She felt very reluctant and… afraid?
"Sigurd, I… didn't tell you things about me, because I didn't want to frighten you but now I have to," Esme said almost inaudibly and Sigurd blinked. Frighten him? That sounded absurd and yet… Esme pulled the blankets up over herself, a protective gesture. "The Grail wasn't meant for someone like me. If the Einzberns were still here, they would have tried to block me because I… can see the Numbers of it. The Command Seals link me to it and I can see how it works." Sigurd waited patiently for Esme to come to the point. He was sure she would get there. "It's two things, a cup of power and the machinery to throw that power at the barriers to the Root, to let a magus get in." Yes, he knew that. "I don't need the machinery at all. I just need the power and four Servants is enough." …Ah.
"So if I reach the Grail, you can take control of the power," Sigurd supplied and Esme nodded, eyes downcast. "But what good does that do us, princess?" If she used it to break the hold the tower had on her, Assassin would surely kill them both out of pure revenge.
"That's… the part I didn't tell you… it didn't do any good anyway when I was caught here but… Sigurd, my magic is all about making the Imaginary into the Real. But it can… do the opposite," Esme said haltingly and Sigurd frowned. Esme reached out to touch his hand, their fingers tangling together for a moment and Sigurd gave her a comforting squeeze. Then Esme let go, but only to trail her hands lower, gripping his forearm right before his elbow. "I can't do anything like this with something physical but Servants are just mana so I can see their Numbers, change them if I work very hard but… the easiest thing of all… is to just make them disappear." Esme's hands suddenly clamped tight and before Sigurd's fascinated and horrified eyes, his hand and forearm vanished into sparkles of blue mana. It was perhaps the strangest thing he'd ever felt, as his mind tried to comprehend that part of him was no longer there. A strange feeling of pins and needles where there was nothing to feel… then Esme released his arm and it quickly reformed. Sigurd turned his hand over and made a fist, looking at what seemed to be firm flesh. He'd know they were nothing but spirits but to be reminded so clearly…
"Bane of all things spiritual," Sigurd murmured, still shaken. But his mind was working clearly and he understood. "The Imaginary Element." Esme's Magic was based in the Imaginary Element, which primarily dealt with things that were not real. Esme's Numbers were so impressive that he hadn't considered how her Magic would interact with spirits. "So if I can reach the Grail and summon you away from the tower, you can destroy Assassin." Caster too for that matter. Esme nodded, still downcast.
"If I were free of the tower this war would already be over," she said softly and Sigurd thought that was absolutely true. He knew precisely how he would have used this… take care of enemies himself, saving this power for the very last. Rider, yes, perhaps they'd have kept Rider alive and manipulated him into destroying their other enemies. That cursed golden armor of his would fracture into nothing under Esme's gaze. Instead, they'd needed to eliminate him first… Sigurd pulled his mind away from thoughts of strategy to look at his Master and lover.
"I'm not afraid of you Esme," Sigurd said gently. Even after seeing her incredible power, he could not conceive of being afraid of her. Although Sigurd was bitterly certain Esme's parents had been. "This is a great power and a beautiful gift." What else could she do? Esme was still very young and hadn't that other Magician defeated the Crimson Moon? What could Esme's Magic do? The thought captured his imagination and Sigurd wanted to find out. But to do that… "I should get going." Sigurd slid out of bed and called up his armor. Esme hurriedly moved to her feet.
"I'll get everything ready for when you call me." That meant gathering all the precious gems and metals she could. They'd already discussed it and while Esme had no money, they could sell all of that to a jeweler to get them started, with the help of a bit of magic to get a fair price. Sigurd nodded before moving around the bed and cupping Esme's cheek with one hand. He drew her into a soft, tender kiss.
"We will win, princess," Sigurd murmured and hoped he wasn't lying. Assassin would be ready for him, he was walking into a trap and it was going to be hard. But Sigurd was determined to do it anyway. Esme smiled, her eyes a bit damp, before she hugged him tightly.
"Sigurd, even if we don't, just remember how happy you've made me," Esme said as Sigurd returned the hug, gauntleted hands resting gently on pale skin.
"It will be fine Esme," Sigurd murmured, looking down at her glossy brown hair. She looked better than he had when he'd arrived, healthier and gaining a bit of weight. He wanted to keep that progress going. "But I must go." She let go with a nod and Sigurd's last sight of her was Esme beginning to pull on her clothing before he left the room and headed down the steps of the tower.
It was time to bring the Grail War to a resounding conclusion.
Medea could not recall being this furious since the day she learned that Jason had betrayed her.
I was going to keep my promise! I knew how to do it! Medea had dealt with Assassin fairly. His/her problem of multiple personalities could be remedied, when she had the Grail within her grasp. Medea understood quite well that it was nothing but a cup of power, and that was fine. She was a Sorceress from the Age of Gods. Given such a vast reservoir of power, Medea could accomplish miracles. Why?! Brynhildr had been nothing but a slave but Assassin had been a partner, or so she'd thought.
We do not trust you, Witch of Betrayal. Oh, the rage those words caused! Medea wanted to turn Assassin into nothing but a bloody mess but she couldn't. She couldn't because…
A small whimper attracted her attention and Medea glanced towards the girl she called Master. Only thirteen years old, she was a slender child with soft blond hair and round blue eyes. She was also a foolish little girl, but who wasn't at that age? Medea remembered the conversation they'd had right after her summoning.
I want to be a witch like you!
Sorceress.
Um, what?
Witch is a derogatory term. I am a sorceress.
Oh… okay! I want to be a sorceress like you!
Such a silly child. Medea could easily forgive her, since to her Master 'witch' meant all kinds of things, both positive and negative, that it hadn't when she was alive. And fortunately, it wasn't just an idle dream. Her Master was the child of a local magus, orphaned at a young age, but after the basic lessons and awakening of her mage circuits. It wasn't easy for Medea to teach her – her magic was quite different – but she had been managing.
Now her Master had a knife at her throat, held by the steady hand of an Assassin and Medea was forced to comply with the loathsome creature's demands. Medea would never have drained the townsfolk this way except under duress. She knew some of them would die, but she had no choice if she wanted her Master to live and Medea hadn't given up yet. There might be an opportunity when Saber walked into this trap.
He will come. The only question is, can Assassin handle him? Medea knew that Assassin was a touch worried about it but also resolute. For them, it was their best chance. The Master was out of reach and any fair confrontation with Saber would destroy them, so they'd arranged the most unfair one they could. But is it unfair enough? That was the question. Medea just knew that she'd be ready to kill the Assassin with a knife to her Master's throat at the first chance. And then, there would be hell to pay.
Medea felt it as Sigurd hit the first of the traps Assassin had forced her to set. She closed her eyes, monitoring his progress. He was handling the magic intelligently, as she would have expected, and they weren't Medea's best efforts. Assassin could force her cooperation but only grudgingly. The traps Assassin had set himself, though, fared better. Medea felt Saber's progress slowing and her lips tightened. He would make it into the cavern, but in what kind of shape?
The answer was not very good. Saber burst into the cavern and Medea stifled a curse. He was moving well, his eyes clear and steady with purpose but Medea could sense the poisons in him, a cursed miasma. They would get worse and worse with time and that was precisely what Saber did not have. The Assassins were fighting for maximum delay, trying to wear him out and let the poison take effect. How could he possibly destroy them all?
Medea quickly realized, though, that Sigurd wasn't even trying to destroy all the Assassin fragments. Her position on the sidelines gave her a unique perspective and she soon understood that Saber was trying to reach the Grail. She wet her lips, sneaking a glance at the Assassin who held her Master. Dare she do something?
"Use your magic, Caster," the Assassin suddenly commanded, to Medea's surprise. "Attack Saber or I will kill her." A bit of blood slid down her Master's throat and Medea felt a combination of rage and exultation. Command me to act? Very well!
She spat out several words and the gust of wind that hit Saber looked very showy, and did some damage, but what it really did was toss Sigurd across the cavern. He tumbled with the wind and landed neatly on the upraised platform that housed the Chalice of the Grail. Medea held her breath as a gauntleted hand closed on the Chalice.
Nothing should have happened. Medea knew that, yet she was not surprised when power exploded from the vessel in brilliant gold light. She felt it being sucked away, transferred somewhere else… then came back, flowing into a form. Medea's eyes widened as she saw a woman appear. A young girl with brown hair, fresh faced and glowing with golden light, carrying a bag over her back.
"Zaban – " Assassin's words died as the woman looked at them. Medea felt a shiver of fear as she sensed a power far beyond her own, what this era called true magic. She sensed Assassin breaking into shards, mana cores rupturing and vanishing under the weight of that gaze. That gaze turned to her for a moment and Medea met her eyes, expecting to die… but nothing happened. Instead the woman turned her attention to Saber and Medea felt more power flow out of the Grail as the girl did… what?
Medea watched carefully and felt the Master binding her Servant, not to herself, but to something much greater. And she sensed Sigurd's base structure change, flowing into something that was not stronger yet vastly more complex. Was he a Caster now, in addition to a Saber? What a lethal combination. A small, pale hand was gripped by a gauntleted one and Medea felt envious as she watched them together and saw the beautiful smile on Saber's face, the matching smile from his Master.
Then they both turned to look at her and Medea readied herself, although she knew she had no real hope against a Saber and nothing left to fight for, with the Grail already drained. Then, though, they surprised her.
"…!" Medea felt the dredges of the Grail energies wash over her and wavered on her feet as it made a connection similar to Sigurd's. Blinking, she tried to analyze it and realized it was a direct connection to Akasha, the Swirl of the Root, where souls originated from and returned to. But it granted her no insights, no special abilities… just a small stream of power to maintain herself and her link to her Master. But why? Why were they allowing her to live beyond the Grail War?
"Why?" Medea asked as her Master collapsed to her knees and began to cry. It was Saber that answered as his Master went to the girl to comfort her. Medea barely paid attention as the Magician gently patted her Master on the back, whispering soothing words.
"Caster is the weakest class. I do not forgive you for what you did to Brynhildr, but I understand." Medea met his eyes and saw a sad weariness there. "And I must repay my debt. Without your gust of wind, I might have lost this battle and failed my Master. I do not know what your wish is, but you have time now to find a way yourself." Time… yes, she had time now. How much? Probably as long as her Master was alive and she was a young girl. So quite a bit of time.
"I see," Medea said slowly before smiling. It was a bitter smile, tart as an unripe persimmon. "I want to hate you, warrior." Hate him for winning, for taking the prize, and just for being the kind of man she craved… yet completely out of reach. Still. "But I'll take your 'gift', even if my wish is impossible now." Her truest wish had been to see her homeland again. Medea would accept that it was now out of her grasp and turn her attentions to something else. Speaking of which… Medea turned her attention to her Master. She was already calming, thankfully.
"Lily, we need to leave this place." The cavern seemed stable yet Medea was not willing to stay a moment longer. Her Master sniffled but rose to her feet.
"Medea… you're going to stay and teach me?" Medea stifled a sigh and wished her Master hadn't said her name, although Sigurd and his Master were no longer her enemies.
"Yes, I suppose so." It would be a good start and Medea was finding she enjoyed teaching. Glancing at Sigurd she easily understood that Saber did not want her behind him. Trusting to his sense of honor, Medea gently escorted her Master out of the cavern. Sigurd and his Master followed, making not a sound but Medea was sure they were conversing mentally.
When they were out of the cavern, though, something very interesting happened.
"So, you've won." The rather portly magus with the comb-over said nastily. Medea moved to the side, keeping a hand firmly on her Master's shoulder as she felt an aura of anger rise from Saber. "I will be lodging a formal protest with your Department, Numerologist – "
"My Master is not a Numerologist, she is the Numerologist!" Sigurd said sharply, rounding on the man. Medea saw his eyes suddenly widen at the intimidating presence of such a powerful Servant. "Her family steals her works and passes them off as their own! Poseurs and frauds, my Esme is the only true Numerologist to exist!" The man swallowed and took a step back.
"Sigurd…" A small hand gently touched an armored arm and the girl looked at her fellow Master. "My family already knows I've escaped. Please, go home and tell them I will never come back." Medea could see a subtle tension in Sigurd's back and mentally shook her head. This wouldn't do. This wouldn't do at all.
Medea spat out a quick incantation and Sigurd swept Esme to the side just as she expected. Her magic flashed through the space they had been occupying and hit the other Master. His shields withstood it for barely an instant before it flashed through and shredded flesh. Medea looked at the splattered remains without sympathy or remorse, feeling her Master trembling by her side.
"Why…" Esme's whisper was very loud in the sudden silence and Medea looked at her. Sigurd was silent and grim and as their eyes met, Medea saw he understood. Still, she would explain it.
"He knew I was still alive, girl. For the sake of myself and my Master, he had to die," Medea said and saw the girl swallow, her eyes large as she looked at the corpse. Such a sheltered girl. "And he knew the name of your Servant. Did you truly want to let him go?" She looked at Sigurd and Medea could almost see them mentally speaking to each other. The Master's shoulders sagged for a moment before straightening, resolute.
"Sigurd says you're right, his mistake was coming here, in his anger over losing," she said and Medea nodded. Putting himself in easy reach had been a horrible misstep. "If he hadn't done that, we might have decided hunting him down would take too long." Yes and Medea might have forgotten Archer's erstwhile Master entirely. "This is a lesson to me… thank you." Medea wanted to hate her, just as much as Sigurd. For holding such beautiful power, for being so similar to herself… yet having the loyalty of a good man. It was painful to see and envy was such a poisonous emotion. Yet, it was also stupid and Medea mastered the impulse before managing a thin smile.
"You're welcome. Farewell," she said cordially before turning to her Master and casting an enchantment. They flew away together, her Master quickly recovering from the violence and asking where they would go next. Medea answered with half her mind on it, considering the future. She had a great deal of time now, how would she spend it? Well, she could try to achieve True Incarnation. That would let her truly experience life again.
And perhaps, just perhaps, she could find her own strong, quiet man in glasses.