Author's Note: Sorry for the short chapter. I'm currently rehashing plot and are moving things around. Once again, thank you all for reading, and reviewing, and for loving Fate/Stay Night!
The earth shook beneath Berserker's mighty steps. Like a hurricane, his long strides carried him and his small passenger towards his destination. Towards whatever unknown battle that was going to take place.
It had been years since Berserker, no, Hercules last battled as himself. True, there were many times that he raged on without a care in the world. Those, however, lacked reason and sanity. It lacked his warrior spirit. God-hand's power was great, but it robbed him of his very humanity. And now, through some strange force at work, he was himself again. It felt good.
"Berserker! Left turn, nineteen degrees, and fourteen kilometers north!" Ilya called from the top of his shoulders. The little girl's hair bobbed wildly in the night wind. This was no ordinary small child; Berserker knew that. She was small, but she had the mind of a warrior, and the spirit to match as well. She was sometimes cruel, but sometimes benevolent. All in all, a good master that he did not mind serving under. Her sense of direction is also unmatched. Ilya, a supernatural human being is more attuned to the lay lines than he is. Trusting in her judgment, Berserker complied.
This area of Fuyuki is clear. The ancient woods have been felled some twenty years ago in order to make a little path to the nearby lake. A little gazebo sat quietly amid the luminescent shadows of the nearby pine trees, its red roof a striking contrast to the soft colors around it. Berserker breathed deeply as his footsteps slowed. This was the location. Dropping Ilya onto the grass, he pulled his club out and readied himself.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a blur. Berserker's head turned to the gazebo, where his opponent emerged. Much of his body was cloaked in shadows, where not even the pure moonlight could penetrate. The dark contrasted with the light shining overhead as he drew a long, coal black katana from its sheath.
"Welcome to the shores of Fuyuki lake. I have been waiting for a long time."
Hercules grunted. He had a feeling that he knew who this man was. Saying nothing, he stared at his opponent's face in an attempt to discern his identity. The samurai in front of him must have been handsome at one point, but his features were blurred, and his face was pallid. In fact, wherever Berserker looked, it seemed that the man was surrounded by a black mist, unpenetrating even to his divine gaze. He didn't like the idea of that.
"I am Minamoto no Yoshinaka, of the Minamoto clan. To whom have I the honor of addressing?"
"Illyasviel von Einzbern. This is my oversized friend, Hercules," Ilya was quick to respond. She glanced at Yoshinaka curiously, as she sense a form of magic that is all too familiar to her. This must have something to do with the Grail. She thought as Berserker took a step forward.
Yoshinaka seemed to be surprised to hear that name, but he carefully disguised his expression. Granted, it was hard to see his face from where the two were standing. After a moment, he carefully spoke.
"Einzbern…Little one, does your family maintain and keep the Holy Grail?"
Ilya smirked. She was right. Gesturing the movements for an analysis spell, she kept her hands behind her back.
"That is correct, Mr. Minamoto," she replied.
"Then…we have no need to fight," Yoshinaka murmured as he lightly stepped down from the gazebo and sheathed his sword. The black mists faded slightly from his armor. His face regained color and his sword once again took on the shine of finely crafted steel. The finely crafted scale armor appeared dim, like something was intentionally covering it up. Nonetheless, the five petals of the Minamoto clan can still be seeing clearly as it shone with a comforting light.
"I have made a mistake," Yoshinaka spoke. "I have made a mistake in siding with the - "
Whatever words that was about to come out of his mouth was silenced as the shadows on his armor crawled back. The samurai could only watch helplessly as he drew his black blade.
"Would I have the chance to redeem myself! These hands are not my own!"
"Berserker! Listen. This guy's going to be kind of like you when we first met," Ilya whispered to the giant standing beside her. "See, my analysis shows that he's dead."
"What?" Berserker rumbled, a little bit peeved that he can't exactly lower his voice. Yoshinaka paid him no heed as he continued with his personal struggle.
"What I mean is that he's not alive like you and I. He's been animated by some powerful magic. See the mists on his armor? That's what keeps him moving and alive. His soul is trapped somewhere, and now he's forced to fight for the Grail."
"The "Holy" Grail," the giant spat as he carefully scanned the fields around him. He knew he had a huge advantage in strength, size, and reach. He wasn't too sure about how his opponent will carry on. Most importantly, he wasn't sure how he could keep Ilya away from trouble.
"Ilya, you stay back. I'll handle this."
"No!" The little girl shouted in indignation. "I can take care of myself."
"This isn't the Grail War any more. I'm no longer a Servant, and you are no longer a Master. The rules are different and you could get hurt."
"Yeah, I know. But so could you. We're a team, remember?"
Those words were so familiar to him. Didn't a long time ago, another youth also told him that they were a team? Or was it so long ago?
A smile came to Berserker's face. He doesn't smile often, but he was happy – happy to be in service of this small one, and happy to be where he is at. Ilya giggled a little as she tried to reach his shoulders and give him a friendly pat, but settled for his calves instead.
"Raserei Des Schwarzen Holzes!" She called as an aura of power started to glow around her. Seeing the sight, Yoshinaka straightened his weapon.
"Minamoto no Yoshinaka, Kenzan!" The samurai roared as he sprinted forward and held his weapon in a powerful overhead cut. Meeting him head-on, Berserker stomp forward and extended his club. The two weapons met with a powerful clang.
In the shadows, a pair watched the battle somewhat warily. Waver, or Lord El-Melloi II shifted uncomfortably in his seat, wincing slightly at the exchange of blows. It was truly a battle of epic proportions, as the two heroes were the epitome of two extremes. Berserker's massive strength and his iron-thick skin was more than a match for Yoshinaka's swift and precise blade techniques. The samurai's sword was a blur as he flipped in midair, nicked the giant's shoulder, withdrew his katana, and sidestepped in one smooth motion before Hercules' gargantuan club came crashing down. He wondered if their cover was good enough. After all, he didn't want to fight either one of these two.
"Relax, kid. Just...relax," Alexander muttered as he watched the battle intently, trying to guess at the warrior's next move.
"What do you thing, King of Conquerors?" Waver asked carefully as his friend's shaggy eyebrows creased. Alexander frowned.
"Mm...most sword users do not maintain sufficient distance between them and their opponents. This Yoshinaka's got guts. If he was even a little slower, he would have been smashed to bits. So far though, our large friend have been staying on the defensive. He may be gauging his opponent's strength, or that he hasn't figured out a way to react yet. "
"Is Berserker slow then, my friend? How is he faring?"
"Surprisingly well, actually," Alexander replied with a small nod. "And kid, can you make your questions any more obvious? Though large hand and arm movements tend to be slower, he's letting his wrist do much of the work... Ah, watch now. Watch as he lure that other guy into a trap."
It was true. Waver noticed that Berserker expertly twisted his hand as the club howled pass from the bottom side of his hand. Yoshinaka's eyes widened in surprise and barely managed to roll out of the way.
"Note the critical difference between the two fighting styles. One of them looks fast, but isn't very fast. The other looks slow, but isn't really slow. Kid, you getting what I'm saying so far?"
Waver stared again. He understood half of it. Berserker was swinging his club at an amazing speed, forcing Yoshinaka out further and further. With a swing, he pushed out a good two feet. With another swing, and the samurai was reduced to dodging and rolling. Soon, he would be cornered.
"This is why. The speed of the weapon may not always be the fastest for some movements, and the size of the weapon may not always be the lightest. But the thing is, the time it takes to complete each movement should be minimal. Sometimes a large weapon, if wielded correctly, can achieve the same level of speed that any smaller arm would have.
Furthermore, look at their footwork. You'll notice that Berserker's is pretty steady and still. He doesn't give ground easily, and he doesn't get it easily. That's alright, since he's making steady advancements. The oriental man, on the other hand is completely dependent on his positioning. You'll notice that in terms of sheer attack strength, he is clearly no match for the big guy. See, the thing is, if he just slowed down a little bit, he'd have an easier time."
"Why?" Waver asked, noticing that Yoshinaka's movements have indeed slowed down.
"Because," Alexander replied amid another clang, "fast speed generally works against you when your opponent is executing a wide sweep or beat. Good swordsmen should use their opponent's inertia and speed against them and to their advantage."
Yoshinaka brought up his black sword into an overhead parry position. With a mighty shout, Berserker brought it down. A titanic clank rang out in the forest as Yoshinaka was driven slightly into the ground. Gasping, he brought his sword up again as the giant lashed out.
"Yeah, ok. This fight'll be over soon. Soon enough. He can't match that big guy's strength."
"Uh..huh. Wow. How did you know about all these sword-fighting techniques?"
"Oh, I bought a fencing manual this morning before we got dropped in the middle of Japan. Barnes and Noble had a 10 precent off on all hardcover, leather bound books. I remembered something about money from last time, so I took your wallet."
Waver instinctively reached down.
"May I have it back please?"
With a smirk, Alexander pulled out a small velvet pouch. He juggled it lightly in his palm.
"Sure. There's really nothing left in it though. But I suppose you could have the baggie back."
"..."
"I see. So this is your, no, our quest."
Sakura sat cross-legged across Diarmuid as they both studied the other with mutual curiosity. The Celtic hero nodded, twirling his spear absentmindedly. Sakura wasn't the best storyteller, and it took him a while to understand all the names and places that she was referring to.
"Your professor calls them Nodal Fragments, we call them something else – what we call them, that doesn't matter. I know that the druids talk about a powerful tome of legends split into three parts that is vital to the stability of the world. It foretold of a rightful ruler of the lands, and that this mighty lord will unify the kingdom. The first part of the tome is around here. Come to think of it, this is probably why you were sent here."
"That's great. It's wonderful how you know –"
Her question was interrupted by her gasp as Diarmuid leaned in closer and carefully brushed a strand of her hair aside.
"Let me start with a good look at my partner first," he winked.
Partner? Sakura blushed furiously as she held her ground and just stared. He was quite handsome, come to think of it. And the way he was leaning forward to face her was very, very attractive…
"Wait – wait, stop. What are you doing?" A little lightheaded but frightened, Sakura asked. Her heart was pounding as the fragrance of roses surrounded her. As if sensing her distress, the hero drew back.
"To activate the geis. Not only will we fight alongside each other, but as your champion I am able to draw strength from you and you from me as long as we are within each other's vicinity. Skin contact is required to seal the pact, and normally, we'd do something a little more, ah, active?"
Noticing Sakura's expression, Diarmuid chuckled as he waved airily.
"Worry not, fair one. It was all in good jest. Normally a vow exchanged through holding hands or a kiss will suffice. Is that a more satisfactory answer?"
Sakura blushed again nodded and looked away. She really liked the way he looked, and the way he moved, and the way he talked. She can't get him out of her mind. Why can't Shirou ever be like this -
Wait, why am I like this? What's happening to me? The redness on her cheeks quickly faded as she snapped back into reality. Suddenly, it was as if an enchantment had been broken. She can once again think about other things.
"Sorry…I was staring. I really couldn't help it."
Diarmuid gave a wry laugh as he suddenly took on a more serious demeanor.
"It's not your fault, fair one. I've been "Blessed with suck," as they called it. You see," his voice lowered to a barely audible volume. "I am cursed with a magical ability to make any woman instantly fall in love with me."
"Oh."
"Yeah, you won't believe it. They leap right into my lap and well, I'm the normally the one with self control. Enough to pull them off me, anyways. Except that one time…" Diarmuid trailed off, looking a little sad.
"It's nothing. Nevermind. Shall we go?"
"What happened that one time?" Sakura asked. It was then she saw him for what he was. Despite being a fountain of charisma, and a veritable gentleman, there was something in Diarmuid that was also broken.
"It'll be a long tale, but well, fair one. Only because you asked. It's not a happy tale by all means."
Her name was Grainne, and she was a powerful sorceress of my people. she was the perfect woman. She had dark hair and eyes – kinda like yours, except her hair was not quite that little shade of blue. Anyways, she was a person of tremendous willpower, and she is one of the few in the land who resisted my unnatural charms. I've always admired her from afar, and I'm afraid I let my admiration grew into something that was more than simple admiration. It's confusing, really. Most men are like that, including me. We don't quite understand why we fall in love, but we do. Once we do, it's unthinkable. Luckily, she was going to be married to my liege, King Fionn, and that alone was enough to make me back off.
Trouble is, she saw me for who I was, and fell in love with me – not because of any magic, but because of who I am. Supposedly it was because I listen to women on a consistent basis, or something. Can you believe it, me?" Grinning dryly, Diarmuid slapped his forehead.
"Anyways, so, here's what took the biscuit. She got me drunk one night and told me the next day that she had placed one of her geis on me – one that would allow her one command."
"Let me guess, did she make you fall in love with her?"
"No," Diarmuid replied as a hazy look appeared in his eyes. He spoke the next lines slowly.
"She just wanted me to come see her once more before she was married.
She told me that it didn't matter if I loved her or not. She was only happy when I was around her. It doesn't matter if she couldn't be with me. All she wanted – she could have made me do anything, you know? All she wanted was to look at me one last time. Of course I'd do that. I'd have done that without enchantments.
I came to her, on a rainy evening. The castle was quiet and dark except for a lone candleflame burning in her chambers. She said nothing, but just sat in front of me and looked at me with those large, luminescent eyes. At least, she sighed and told me I may go.
"To where?" I asked.
"I don't know. Somewhere away from me. Away from Fionn's court."
"But I can't," I blurted. "I can't pass the days without seeing you –"
The truth was out. Right then, right now. Both of us realized that we had done a terrible thing. I was the king's warrior. She was the king's bride to be. We sat there, with that one candle between us for the entire evening, neither of us saying a word.
At long last, she stood up and told me that I really needed to go, or else that she will never be able to forgive herself. In that moment, I made the best and the worst decision of my life. I told her how I felt and refused her request. She couldn't believe it. I told her again. We stood there, looking at each other. Our eyes met and we knew that if we did force ourselves to separate, it would be unbearable. No, we had to do something. So did the only thing left to us. We fled from court. Those years on the run were the best years I had in my life."
Smiling, Diarmuid pulled out a neatly kept leather book.
"See this? This is the Book of the Rose. It's her personal spellbook. Other couples get rings. We exchanged book and bracelets. It was harsh on the road – especially with an entire country crawling for your head. But hey, I taught her how to use a spear, and she taught me how to weave the winds. Fionn was furious, of course. And I think he was deeply wounded. How can you not? Your best friend and your bride running out on you like that? Unthinkable!
The hunt for us went on for five years. Then suddenly and unexpectedly, he pardoned us. We were wed, went back to Ciarrai and settled down."
A long pause.
"That's not the end to your story, is it?"
"No, it isn't.
I suppose Fionn never forgave me for what I did. I did everything I can. I carried out all my duties faithfully. And yet, it wasn't enough. It was never enough.
We were out hunting boars. We had cornered the beast when it decided to charge at our raised spears. Knowing that whoever stood before it was bound to suffer grievous wounds, I shoved my king out of the way and leapt in front of it. I should have died there, and then. I should have. But I didn't. i was wounded in the torso, and I had no control over my arms. At first, I wasn't particularly concerned. There was a fountain nearby, and I was confident in the fact that Fionn will save me. That fountain had healing powers, and whoever drank from its waters will be healed no matter what would it was.
Fionn looked at me as an inscrutable expression appeared on his face. He told me he was going to get the water and told me to wait. He promised me, and I believed him, and he …
He never came through with his promise. Turns out, he went directly to Grainne and asked for her hand….or something. I really don't know. I don't remember. It was hazy and I was drifting in and out of consciousness. And she came with the water, but she couldn't give it to me – Fionn must have struck her in rage or something. Collapsing on the ground nearby, her blood stained the grass crimson. Yet she still tried to save me as she pushed the cup away from towards me, inch by inch."
Diarmuid was silent for a moment. His voice was a little hoarse as he continued.
"Sakura, I hope you will never see what I had to see. She gave up her life…for me. And that still wasn't enough. At the end, she didn't have the strength to push it further.
"Sorry, my… love."
I'll never forget the look on her face. The anguish she felt…she thought she had failed me, and that maybe if she did a little more, she could have altered the outcome. That pained expression will be forever branded into my mind. I couldn't speak, but how I wanted to tell her that no, it was enough. You were always enough for me, and anything you do was good enough.
But I couldn't. And I watched her life ebb away until finally, her shallow breathing stopped. What's more, I noticed Fionn. Apparently, he just stood there and watched the whole thing. At any moment, he could have saved us. But he didn't. Was this his way of taking retribution?
I was loyal to my heart, and this was my outcome. My faith rewarded me with betrayal. My loyalty earned me scorn. I was used. Used by everyone."
Diarmuid cried out as he plunged his spear into the earth.
"Grainne….you should have saved yourself. Why didn't you? Why didn't you?"
It was then he felt a gentle hand placed on his shoulder. Turning around to face Sakura, he couldn't help but notice that her hair glistened in the evening.
"Diarmuid, you may not believe this. But I know exactly how you feel."
In that dark night, underneath the flickering flame. Someone said that to him a long time ago, didn't she?
"We're kindred spirits, aren't we? We both placed our loyalties in misguided sources. "
He nodded. Maybe he had been given a new chance.
"…I could share your pain, and you could share mine…"
Yes, it was like that too. On that night.
"…Never again will we walk alone."
Diarmuid whispered quietly. A faint light glowed between his hand and Sakura's as the girl flashed him a knowing smile. Now, he was once again a champion with a lady to protect. And protect he will. He'll teach her whatever she wanted to know. With a little luck…He didn't want to go there. Not just yet, anyways.
Behind them, faraway, a shrouded figure nodded in approval. Its green garments billowed in the breeze as it faded silently into the ground.
For the people of Uruk, this night was like any other night. Peaceful, quiet. The lazy evening breeze blew past family doorways. The streets were once again lit. it was like the calamities that just occurred a few weeks ago never happened. The only reminder to the strange event were the damaged walls and broken homes. For now, they could enjoy a moment of respite; a moment of relaxation.
A drum sounded in the distant. Suddenly, the peaceful atmosphere was dissipated. Heads turned and muscle tensed. Another drum rang out, its low-pitched cry echoing through the now-crowded streets. The king was summoning them. Something dire was happening.
As the people milled about in the city square, atop the Ziggurat, Gilgamesh paced. He wasn't quite sure how he was going to present this to his people. Regardless, he was going to try. He turned as the city elders gathered in front of him. With a casual brush, he parted the curtains that guarded his domain and stepped into the balcony.
The people gaped and cheered. It was rare for them to be granted an audience with the king. Not to mention, they have never seen their king in his full armor before. Gilgamesh's elaborate golden mail was wondrous to behold. The plates clinked lightly as he stepped forward. Clink, clink. His crimson eyes flashed briefly as he held out his right hand, signaling for silence. The crowd instantly hushed.
"Citizens, countrymen, my loyal subjects," the Golden King began.
"Much have transpired in our great city as of late. Mysterious fires, dark creatures, strangers from a foreign land. The reappearance of the ancient prophet. The resurgence of arcane activities. I feel that as king, I owe everyone an explanation.
You know, or should know, that I am a prideful man. My pride led me to many, many pitfalls. It is also that same pride now that may now be our downfall."
"My king," an elder of the city stepped forward. "I do not understand, what have you done - "
The elder's eyes met the king's cool gaze and lapsed into silence.
"As a select few of you know, I have elected to join in the Heaven's Feel a few years ago. The greatest artifact of mankind is also now its greatest enemy. As my rival destroyed the Holy Grail, so did she unwittingly set our doom. The Grail decided, at the moment of its demise to reverse reality. Thus, it escaped destruction and came to our realm. Our world. In accord to the Precepts of Destiny, it must eliminate those who were present in the Heaven's feel in order to achieve its purpose of self preservation. The natural thing for it to do, then is to wipe the magical heroes, or Servants, from existence. This is why the fires occurred in the palace. I was its first target.
You may ask: that is all well and good. Why blame yourself, O king? The answer is simple. I broke the tablet of heroes. A few of you may have heard of the legend. It is a tablet containing all the essences of human history. Regardless, I have done something terrible. In essence, I have declared war on the Holy Grail through that action. The Precept of Destiny operate on pure logic and reasoning. Unfortunately, in my attempt to augment my own powers, I have instilled in the Grail a monstrous instinct. According to the laws, it now must treat every legend – yes, you, me, them; we are all part of legends and stories – as something that needs to be erased from reality."
Suddenly, one soldier ran out from the crowd. Foaming at the mouth, he gibbered loudly.
"It's true!! The shadow-creatures that you may have seen lurking around are agents of this power. They move with one purpose only: the annihilation of mankind. Even as we speak now, an army moves against us!"
A fearful murmur ran across the crowd. Here and there, the hushed cries of small children can be heard. Terror was in many pairs of eyes as they looked desperately to him, waiting for something, anything that may alleviate their fear. The soldier who delivered the fear-inducing message lie dead on the floor.
Gilgamesh said nothing. He looked at the ring of authority on his finger and played with it. He beckoned to his advisor as he stalked back into the curtains.
"Tell them I'll be back in fifteen minutes."
Plopping down in a nearby cushioned chair, the king of heroes looked at his own reflection on the floor blankly. He had never felt so helpless in his entire life. He was powerful. The Grail must play by the rules – it must destroy his realm through physical, metalogical, and tangible means. But how was he supposed to stand against an army? His men know nothing about the magical arts. With a long sigh, he buried his head in his hands.
He was human too. Even with such a large degree of divinity, he was still very much human. Limited by human weaknesses and emotions. Including one that he isn't used to – uncertainty and doubt.
The battle for Uruk was doomed from the start. The allied reinforcements will be too late to make any significant impact. And if he falls, the history of men will fall as well. He sighed again. Perhaps it was destiny. What is done is done.
"Get up, you stupid idiot!"
Gilgamesh blinked. It was then that he felt the stinging force of a slap. A raging Rin Tohsaka was towered over him. Moving with the grace of a lioness, her miniskirt flared as she brought herself up to her full height.
"Look at yourself! Just what do you think you're doing, talking like that?"
"You don't get it, do you? It's lost. There is no - "
She slapped me. Twice!
"Listen to me. We don't need a damned moping fool! We need Gilgamesh, the King of Heroes!"
"I..."
Utnapishtim emerged from behind Rin and patted him gently on the back.
"Terrible odds, it is. But take heart, student! Zero is zero. One is not zero. Try, and succeed you might. Fail, and you fail. But no succeed if there is no try."
Rubbing his face slightly, Gilgamesh stood up.
"Precept of Destiny, altered it has. Look at these around you. Young, they may be. But so are you. There is still a chance."
"But I've already declared our doom."
"Then go out there and show them otherwise. Tell them to believe. Tell them to believe in a future; tell them to believe that the sun will rise tomorrow," Rin continued.
"Tell them to believe, and it will happen. That's how things gets done in our world. Believe, as we believed, and miracles will happen." Archer emerged from the shadows. He flicked a small object at Gilgamesh, who caught it with one hand. He stared at it with bewilderment on his face.
"The key – but how?"
Utnapistim winked but said nothing. Instead, he pulled out a large tome and began reading it.
Below the palace, the crowd murmured. What were they to do? Was the army going to protect them? Where could they go? Where was safety? Some wanted to just hide in their homes, and spend the last of their days with their families. Some others are panicking openly. Even the warriors show signs of unrest as their brave hearts are clouded with doubt. What were they to do?
"Soldiers of Uruk. Hear me."
Gilgamesh strode onto the platform. A magnificent golden aura radiated from him as the night was temporarily illuminated with auric light.
"This is your moment of truth. You will not fear. You will not falter. You will not give one inch of ground to the enemy."
"But sir! We have seen it with our very eyes, they are -"
Gilgamesh's eyes narrowed dangerously as he snapped his fingers. Immediately, an arc of light shot through the night sky, narrowly avoiding impaling the poor soldier who had even dared to suggest such a thing.
"Do you doubt the words of your king?"
"No, sir..."
"Clarify."
"No, sir!" The soldiers roared.
"Good." Turning around to the citizenry, Gilgamesh continued.
"Men and women of Uruk, my people!" He added, as an afterthought. "War is upon us, as I have said many times. The enemy is at our doorstep and thinks he can destroy us here, in our homes. He is already gloating. He can taste his victory. Even now, he is among us."
The body of the soldier who spread the rumors was instantly struck with fourteen consecutive strikes of different Noble Phantasms. With a hiss, the body melted into a pool of dark matter, which then slowly faded away under the piercing light.
"But what he fails to see is that we will make this his last meal. My people. Listen. They are monsters. True. They are powerful, true. But as you have just seen, they can be destroyed. All it takes is God's greatest gift to mankind – the gift of hope."
Gilgamesh gestured as the Gates of Babylon opened behind him. Countless Noble phantasms glittered against the evening backdrop. Swords, spears, axes, lances, bows, pole-arms, and other weapons that cannot be named slid slowly from their sheaths. The very reality shifted around the ripples of ethereal matter.
"This is my treasury, in which you have only heard of, but never seen; you have only toiled in darkness, but never known of its power. This is the greatest collection of mankind's achievements. This is our strength.
Citizens. It is late, and you should be returning to your homes. However, before you leave, know this. I, as your king, shall be your bulwark against the incoming tide!"
The crowd cheered. A small glimmer in their eyes as they nodded in true appreciation.
Something didn't feel right.
Robin scanned the outskirts of the forests as the Mobile Fortress Sherwood lumbered forth. He knew from past experiences that whenever there was silence nearby, something bound was going to be happening.
There! There it was. In the clearing strangely devoid of all vegetation. A cage with a …villager in it?
"Hum. Oh dear Robin? You better look at it again carefully. Something doesn't quite feel right here." Marian commented as she pointed at the unsettling slight.
"Well, can't hurt to take a look. Looks like some poor chap's been stuck in that thing for quite a while. He's barely breathing," the leader of the Merry Men commented as he pulled out a pair of binoculars.
"John, get on the statistics. Will, ready armaments. Tuck –"
"ISH A TRAPS! I TELLSH JOO IT ISH TRAPP! TRAP!" The Friar poured himself another mug of ale as he plopped down in his chair. Marian shrugged.
"Well, love, the friar's never been wrong before."
Nodding, Robin pulled a lever as he fired an acorn from a nearby hidden turret. The villager didn't even flinch.
"Hm. Yup. Definitely a trap. That acorn was going at nine hundred miles per hour. Alright, comrades! Let us sit and wait! It seems that there's some fighting to be done for the day!"
His comment was met with enthusiasm as the outlaws prepared themselves for an ambush.
Meanwhile, hidden in the woods…
"What sort of unholy creature is that thing?" A heavily armored monk asked the monk crouched next to him.
"That…is the unholy demonic infested evil thing known as the demonic Treant of demons. It is haunted by demons and obviously captained by more demons. It takes on the appearance of many trees, or one big tree, or one really big tree with arms and legs – like it's doing now."
"Witchcraft, clearly. In service of the foul demons?"
"Indeed. It must be witchcraft. We should be engaging this evil head on. Is this the evil we were looking for?"
"I don't know, brother. It did attack our straw effigy with great demonic might, shooting a foul demonic projectile into it."
"Brother! The Demon is moving!" A monk shouted.
"Then we shall take the battle to it! To me, brothers! CHARGE!"
"Squirrels report that we have been surrounded by a regiment of heavily plated but bald human soldiers. They are apparently the remainders of the Order of the Hammer, a group of militant monks and there is talk of setting fire to the Fortress. Apparently, they think we're demons.
"That explains that ridiculously large warhammers they're holding."
"Actually, Robin, I know their leader. Brother Amadeus. The tall one? See him standing there? Really a nice guy. Just sorta crazy at time. They're good, solid folks. But their brains work strictly on a on-off basis."
"You mean the one that just got doused with Tuck's ale as he tried to light Sherwod, Will?"
"Yeah, that's the one. Remember Sherwood's got an inane defense mechanism against fire anyways, so it probably wouldn't work."
"Silly monks. Mobile Fortress Sherwood immune to fire."
"Easy, old friend, easy. Let's see what's happening – OOH, ouch. That didn't go well –" Robin winced as a monk tried to run up the roots and was promptly swatted away by a powerful branch. A chorus of "witchcraft! Witchcraft!" rang out as the monks leapt out of the woods with hammers drawn.
"Brothers! Advance cautiously; this demon is large and very leafy!" A tall monk shouted as he waved his hammer and beckoned his fellow monks onward.
The battle was relatively uneventful as the Mobile Fortress repelled its invaders with acorn, pinecone and branch. Taking great pains in not injuring any of the monks, the great mobile weapon wondered if he should be pointing out something more obvious.
"Robin. Should we maybe tell them we aren't hostile, and that we're on THEIR side?"
"…Nah," Marian piped in. "They should figure it out eventually."
The ancient fortress huffed. Its leaves shook in indignation as the monks rushed at it again.
"Brother, rally around me for another charge! We shall be rid of these accursed acorns and fruits of unholy demonic influence!" The tall monk yelled.
"But brother! The demon tree does not attack us, perhaps it is not demonic?"
The tall monk paused for a moment and thought carefully.
"Well, brother. By all means it appears to be a tree," he muttered. "Brothers! Gather around me. Let us discuss our enemy. What is it? To me, it looks like a tree. Plenty of branches and leafy stuff."
"Smells like a tree – it has with all the fine fragrances of oak, pine and spruce." The short monk added.
"Feels like a tree. It's barky." Shouted a monk with a particularly large hammer.
"I hear squirrels and other forestly creatures and also the wind blowing amongst the branches. Definitely sounds like a tree. Taste like a tree too, Ptooey!" growled another monk as he spat out a leaf.
"Brother, what do you think?" asked the short monk cautiously. He hefted his hammer and glanced around warily. The tall monk scratched his bald head.
"Hm. Tastes like a tree. Looks like a tree, smells like a tree, feel like a tree, sounds like a tree, but it doesn't burn like a tree…"
"IT MUST BE A DEMON! ONWARD, MY BROTHERS! WE SHALL NOT REST UNTIL IT IS VANQUISHED! THE FORCES OF DARKNESS MUST BE DEFEATED!!"
Everyone in the Mobile Fortress Sherwood groaned as they watched the monks renew their attack with righteous fury.
"How long do you think they'll stop thinking we're demons?" Marian yawned. She had switched out of her combat gear and into her usual attire of blouse and short skirt. The monks had been hammering at Sherwood for the entire afternoon and she had missed her afternoon capnap.
"Well, we are here a day early, in fact, we passed Lancelot's crew on the road, I think." Robin commented as he sipped his ale. He really didn't mind Marian clinging on top of him during his watch. The extra weight – and Marian – makes him a lot more alert than usual.
"They'll stop thinking we're demons when real ones show up."
The outlaw and the maiden turned to see Will Scarlet.
"Robin, Marian. According to this, we have found our opponents. They're actually behind us and ahead of Lancelot's group. I believe that they intend to cut the knights off."
"Hm, this could be problematic. The Once and Future King is there, isn't it?
Being dangerously genre-savvy, Robin knew that The Once and Future King must be something important. He would even guess that it is part of the three-piece tome that makes up England's nodal fragment. The loss of any one would be devastating.
"You get my drift, my friend?"
"Yes, yes, but how are you going to walk out of the Fortress? The monks will mob you on sight."
"Oh, Brother Amadeus knows me. I'll be fine!"
Marian gave Robin a knowing glance and shook her head as she got out of his lap and walked towards the storeroom.
"Not if he thinks you are demon. Like he thinks I am demon. You could be demon disguised as Will Scarlet."
"…You know, Will, Sherwood's got a point there."
The sound of a jar being broken can be distantly heard. Then they heard Marian whistle. Will chuckled.
"Yeah, well. Got a better idea?"
"Actually, dear. Try this."
Marian appeared in the control room doorway with a large, brown cube. She gave Robin a wink as the latter's eyes widened in recognition. Stifling a grin, Robin covered his face and turned away.
"What the hell is that thing?"
"It's a box. You'll hide under here and move around in it."
Will's eyebrows twitched.
"You gotta be crazy! A five year old can see through that trick!"
"Of course, dear. But we aren't dealing with five year olds. We're dealing with your monk friends."
"…You've got a point there."