Sorry for the slow update. My girlfriend is off to Japan once again and so we've been cramming in time together before she heads out. On the plus side, she'll be there as FSN:UBW is going strong so I can ask her to go to actual physical stores for stuff that she can bring back with her rather than having to figure out international shipping.
Chapter 11
Assessment
The sound of metal against metal. A ringing noise, rhythmic and unsettling in pitch. The warmth of fire and the scent of ash.
A sword formed, set aside, onward to another, repeat, again and again.
There was no hammer despite the sound all-too familiar for a knight of days past. The workshop was dark save for the embers of a forge furnace. Steel walls wrapped around and might have caused claustrophobia if not for the feeling of security they brought.
His hair was still red, his face not as grim as before. No scowl marred his expression as now, no look of sadness as with that time in a faraway village amidst bodies and death. Now he just appeared focused, his eyes never wavering from the workplace before him. He was a mere blacksmith now, long hours and hard work alone determining the outcome.
Another sword formed, took shape before him, was placed aside.
Many littered the ground, which despite being indoors appeared like the surface of distant Mars, dirt and rusting metal rather than a clean floor or verdant land. Some stuck out of the earth like plinths or statues erected for some religious or spiritual purpose. Others lay aside, strewn about, the results of an assembly line with no demand for the final products.
These were not weapons of legend and lore, yet they held some innate purpose beyond mere tools of war and carried with them the hint of some greater purpose. One seemed to curve with such perfection that it would empirically impart the most amount of force to its slash. Another was short and small, crafted for a hand far more diminutive than a grown man or woman's. Yet another still was large enough to cut and crush right through a motor vehicle even without the might of a legendary warrior. The blade he made now was razor-sharp and hardly any thicker than a sheet of paper.
Lost opportunities. Moments where the right tool could be the difference between life and death. This was itself a battle, fought against what could have been, the unknown result beyond the road not taken.
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Saber only rested for about an hour, her magical energy supply fine, although her mental fortitude could always benefit from taking a moment to recuperate. The maids had insisted upon taking watch—although trying to convince Leysritt not to stand guard with a giant halberd had been an a task—and Shirou had promised that nobody would be leaving the house for the next few hours.
Shirou was true to his word, not even leaving the master bedroom where Saber had been directed to rest. He talked quietly with Luvia and Rin, going over the events that had led them to flee and what they knew about potential enemies with the skills demonstrated in the skirmish. Saber rose when they had gone, only just then noticing that Hakuno had passed out next to her and Julius had taken the other bed in the room.
It would be understandable if Shirou were just as tired, but something caused Saber to refrain from bringing it up. Perhaps the vestiges of the dreams she had left her with the first true sense of an outsider, an intruder in his world. She would remind him eventually, yet for now, a feeling that she should not interfere with his actions for the moment had formed deep in the pit of her stomach.
They had talked a little of Shirou's magecraft, but that had been something beyond simply an example of his ability. The dreams that Servants and Masters shared were insight into the very existence of the other. Even as she still wanted to remind him of his humanity, she still felt as if he was not wrong as he grew more and more detached from the boy she had once known.
Perhaps.
Sakura had since come in to bring them food, looking a little embarrassed at their sleeping associates who were clearly too out of it to accept nourishment—and for good reason. Shirou gladly accepted however and Saber moved to join them.
Shirou seemed unable to be idle as they replenished, mostly just nibbling on the onigiri Sakura had brought. "You said earlier that the Matou house is empty?"
His once-underclassman nodded. "I know that grandfather is nearby at the moment, but he had not been in the mansion for over a month as far as I know. The wards have not been touched since coming with you as well, so he has not been there since." She considered as she poured them tea. "I was told he would be away for some time and assumed he was called to London, but he was not there apparently."
"So he has been out of the country," Shirou said, more to himself.
"Is something important about that?" Sakura asked.
Saber nodded. "If he was not at the conclave as Rin and Luvia have said, yet was not here recently, it is entirely possible he was gathering resources or making plans related to the ritual. He could have been retrieving an artifact to use as a summoning catalyst, even summoned abroad if he thought it possible."
Sakura suddenly looked worried, her eyes darting up and away.
"The Einzberns have done it, it is entirely possible that the other founding families could be more adept at it," Shirou said. "Assuming they aren't Rin."
Nervous laughter from all three of them which was immediately followed by looking over their shoulders to make sure said witch was nowhere within hearing range. This all despite having walls on all sides and only one entrance.
"If we don't think he'll return, we might consider the Matou house a place to hide out as well," Shirou said. "It is probably under surveillance currently, unless he's helping the Association regulars, which might be worth tripping any trap they have set up just to find out. If that's okay, I mean."
Sakura nodded all-too fast. "If it would be a help and you think others would be safe there, yes, by all means."
Something about that bothered Saber, however, although she could not put her finger on it. It did not seem to worry Shirou, however, who sat back to finish his rice ball, processing the new possibilities laid out before him.
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In the hours since holing up in Waver's suburban getaway, the kitchen and dining room turned into a makeshift workshop as it was the only space large enough to house a number of items comfortably. Now it appeared to resemble a chemistry lab, with beakers lining the countertop, a microscope and samples on the table, and some kind of perfumed liquid boiling on the stovetop. It would not look out of place in a university science department or one of the laboratories in the Clock Tower, yet right outside was a peaceful neighborhood totally unaware of the dangers around them.
"It's like a criminal's meth lab," Shirou had said after taking one look, then retreating upstairs.
Which, for a split second, had made even Waver look like he was ready to laugh. Almost.
While Avin had been the one to set it up, Finbar was the one working the most with it, having set the golem Julius had retrieved on the countertop as if it were in preparation for dinner. Unfortunately, the house was not built for the tall, so Finbar, taller than the others save for Emiya, continually bumped his head against the cupboards as he would lean down to examine something.
"It's the size of a loaf of bread," Avin said. "And made to explode. It can't seriously be that complex, can it?" He was clearly getting antsy for an examination that ought to have only taken half an hour at most the better part of six hours.
"But if I do this right, we have another weapon against whoever sent this." Actually, Finbar had said that twice already, but it kept going through one ear and out the other with the smaller man. Avin was along the lines of a "gifted" type in that he did things with ease, placing him nearly in the category of magus as Luvia or Rin. Finbar simply had a well-compartmentalized mind that fit him better for the kind of skills he specialized in. Their work ethics clashed, just as many other things between them did.
Avin idolized Waver Velvet's research skills and seemed to look up to him as a mentor.
Finbar, like many others that had Waver as a professor, had fallen completely in love with the elder man. Even to those that held no romantic inkling toward him like Avin and Tasmir, he was just an indefinably magnetic person within the hierarchy of the Association. It was not something Waver himself cultivated, yet many that studied in the Clock Tower were convinced that if pushed, the forces under Lord El-Melloi II would be able to compete with and even overcome Lorelei Barthomelloi and her ilk.
Although exerting himself was normally out of the picture, Finbar did go out of his way to try and shine when attending classes under Waver. Here, too, he was happy to be of use regarding a field of expertise nobody else specialized in, even though naturally Finbar was more inclined to get by with a minimum and not stand out in any particular fashion.
Extracting the thread that spiritually connected this familiar to its owner would be something nobody else present could do. Even with the specialization in alchemical craftsmanship as one of Emiya's Einzbern maids had could not contend.
Especially as Waver waited in the kitchen, now on the phone with Reines back in London. Although the professor was only treating them to maybe a tenth of the attention he had on his phone, it was still enough to motivate Finbar to his very best.
If only Avin would stop breathing down his neck regarding it. If only he would stop hitting his head every time he lifted himself away from one angle of observation. It also didn't help that Avin would call him out for having a blonde moment when he did.
The golem's body was something like a bird, with vital organs and everything, although the boxy head was something different entirely. Despite this, the creature's heart was the root of the connection to the magus or magi at the other end, as the spiritual power that animated it was based around life force rather than a mental connection. Finbar was sure that, to a limited extent, the person at the other end could use standard sensory sharing spellwork to see from the golem's point of view, but that was not the primary purpose of this one. Unfortunately, its heart was right above where the "stomach" of the creature was, which held all of the explosive components. Finbar had used alchemical compounds to negate the blast, but the material within was enough to ruin the connector if he messed up on the surgical removal.
"Tweezers," Finbar said. If Avin was going to hover, he might as well prove useful.
The smaller man sighed and handed the requested item over.
Even Waver seemed to take a little more notice now as Finbar moved to snip the connector—something that resembled a thread ending that came out of the spine and into the heart, passing very close to the stomach.
A faint explosion, like shaking a soda can violently and then popping the top. The "stomach" of the golem spat a liquid up into the air. While non-toxic, it did begin to smell rather like an actual dead and rotting bird rather than a mechanical construct.
Waver, close enough to observe, did not look pleased to have his favorite blazer sprinkled with a scent like he'd been hit by a skunk's spray, but he ignored it in favor of what he was hearing over the other end of the phone.
"Uh…got it," Finbar said. "I mean, it was successful." Despite the reaction from the explosive stomach, he had kept the connector clean.
"It sure smells like success," Avin said.
"The point being," Finbar said, his voice rising a bit, looking testy with Avin, "that if they try something like this again, I can hijack the signal and cause a system disruption in them. If they're in range." He frowned, looking around at the mess he caused, just now realizing that Waver probably would not want to leave everything as-is. His enthusiasm deflated.
"No, she's not going to clean up," Waver said as the students looked his way. "I just used her to launch me across town; you're barking if you think I'm using any more magical energy right now." He glanced behind them. "Maybe her?"
The two boys startled as they realized one of the Florence Nightingale maids Emiya had brought with him back from the castle was behind them, yet they had not heard a thing.
"Came to check noise," the one called Leysritt said. "In case of danger." She let a faint smile grace her lips. "Should not be surprised. Apprentice magi are the same everywhere, it seems." Then the maid wandered away as if she were a ghost, gliding along with only the hint of sound.
Despite being on the phone, Waver shook his head. He looked to his students and said, "She's even stranger than all the rest here. And apparently she used to be worse with the talk." He scowled. "If only Volumen would advance like that."
"I can add new programming…?" Finbar said, a little hopeful. Attempting to add greater range to the mercury golem's five senses was high on his list of dream projects.
"Just hurry up what you're doing. Info flowing into London just confirmed that Yggdmillennia isn't behind these things." A touch of fear shone in Waver's eyes. "Either Forvedge is losing control of her pawns or we've got more than one team out there after us. This is sounding more and more like a clusterfuck."
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If they paid attention to the media or other worldly concerns, the members of the Church might realize how much they resembled waterborne military special forces. In the twilight hours of the day after the majority of people had already returned home for the evening, they crept up the Mion river that bisected Fuyuki, only the crowns of their heads visible as they swam upstream. Unlike modern military, they did not wear equipment to allow them to breathe or conceal them from view—instead utilizing a mystery cast by one of their own to do both.
Part of the way up the river they splintered off into smaller groups and approached the land's edge as they neared the bridge that connected either side of the city. While one or two separated from the rest and either continued up the river or to the other side, the majority crept up the Shinto side and removed mantles that had temporarily given them aquatic abilities.
Then one was unceremoniously shot through the head with what looked like an arrow made of fire.
There was no time for reactions and the members of the Church knew what they were about. Scattering in pairs, they took to the defensive as they spotted their attacker. A magus was in a third story window to a building facing the river, her fingers pointed toward the members of the Church as if she were firing an invisible bow.
Not every member of the Church was combat-oriented as an Executor or Knight. Many of those currently deployed were artifact hunters of the 8th Sacrament. They had experience dealing with cursed items or relics of inherent danger but had little know-how to combat an opposing force. Two more died from bright arrow flames, one taking the shot right through the stomach, the other through his right eye.
A return attack from one of the Executors sent a crucifix-shaped Black Key soaring up into the window. Whether it struck true or not was unclear as the magus there drew back into the shadows of the building regardless.
Only that was when the floodgates were released. A half dozen magi from all different directions appeared and simultaneously let loose with spells of their own. The same Executor that had thrown the Key went down in a barrage of curses while two more leapt into the air with superhuman might and sent weapons flying in response.
As flames danced, curses flew, and shots from archaic crossbows and throwing knives and the occasional modern arms cut through the darkness, one member of the Church, a man of a hulking two meter frame charged past the battle lines and into the streets. He kept his shoulders hunched and body wrapped tight around something like a rugby or American football player. Before the magi could react, he was past the initial block of buildings and into the city, the sound of battle disappearing completely due to a boundary field placed by one of the magi.
He ran into the waiting arms of a different kind of trouble. When attempting to cross a street, he spotted bystanders out for an evening stroll or last-minute errands. Although the Church had sanctioned the use of force to conceal the happenings occurring beneath the masquerade of normality in Fuyuki, he was not a master of combat and his very presence stood out in a country of rather short people. So he made for one sidewalk away from the bystanders and headed down an alleyway that he could hide in until they were gone.
Then the sensation of sharp, searing pain ran down his spine and he fell dead without a word. His body crumpled to the ground face-first as one of those bystanders, a nameless, faceless being stood over him. Even had he survived the encounter, being able to recall what features this being had would not have been retained. The doll removed itself from the alleyway as quickly as it had come, returning to its patrol as if nothing had happened at all, as if it had not just severed a man's spine in three places in a flash and then left his corpse to rot.
Many minutes of silence passed. No sounds of battle penetrated the boundary, leaving the false impression of a peaceful night still hanging in the air.
From beneath the body of the larger man crawled a petite young woman, unscathed save for minor cuts and bruises. She listened and watched, waiting for the threat of an approach to come her way for another long while as the night ticked on. Calmly, she dragged the dead man deeper into the shadows of the alleyway, removing the cross from around his neck and placing it firmly in his hands.
"Take him to his place at your bosom," the young woman said, clasping her own hands in prayer. "Kyrie, Eleison."
From the mouth of the alleyway, the woman glanced about for danger, and when she found no further pursuit, spirited toward a hill at the far end of the city, pale hair dancing in the moonlight as she went.