Hey, guys! Sorry for the long update; as usual, life's a bitch. And I've been bitten by that 'laziness' bug. Sorry again.
In any case, recently my activities in this site has been for beta work. So, here's the stories to check out (because they're arrogantly mine):
Fate New Rebellion by lioncousin (my first partnership)
A Different Destiny by Marcel M
Deck of Heroes by greyblueflames98
All Over Again by Krapo
Now that winter's over, my favorite sport series is also starting up: motorsport. Perhaps it's apparent from previous Author's Notes, but I'm excited for the 2018 season, with all the crossovers between disciplines going on. Yeah, fuck insurance! Give the fans what they want: their heroes competing in multiple disciplines like the old days. That said, going away from motorsport: how the hell is Roger Federer still winning?! What are all the other players doing (and yes, they call themselves professional players, so it's their job to beat this dude!)?! Alright, maybe that sentence is too harsh, because he's my favorite player, but come on...
Mailbag time!
Dragonjek: Oh, you know it...
etheral-23: Well, because of my limited FGO playing time, I decided not to take too much of FGO's storyline into this fic. So, if there's any discrepancies, sorry for not sticking to the script. Please still let me know, though, so my knowledge increases with each review. Thanks for the heads up!
axel4ekruz: To be honest, the similarities are a coincidence. I do know that move, but I didn't use it as inspiration. It just popped up in my head. Great when viewed again on YouTube, though!
Alexana998: No, this project won't be a harem. The next one will. Regarding your request, there'll be more in the pipeline. Keep reading, and thanks for the review.
talesfanjmf, coronadomontes, PasiveNox & King Draconias: I cannot thank you enough for the praise. I'm currently in dogeza as I read your reviews.
coolkid0806: No, it's just a clip. The complete aria will be revealed later in the story.
With that, enjoy! I'll be waiting for your comments down below.
- Swirl. Swirl. Swirl.
The aged white wine releases its exquisite aroma as a pair of dainty fingers moves in a circular motion. The woman doing it is lazily laying down on a soft couch covered in maroon silk, while her two female attendants standing by beside her vigilantly. Despite hailing from the same race as their master, their manners, though well-trained, still can't compete with their master's natural beauty and elegance that filled her every move, consciously or not.
Shalltear gazes at the eternal full moon hanging over her realm, a sad expression gracing her tired eyes. As a true vampire, unlike Gaia's True Ancestors, some of the 'vampire folklore' characteristics are etched onto her, such as gaining strength during phases of the moon and vulnerable to a certain kind of alchemical silver. However, as she doesn't require sleep, sometimes a strong sense of nostalgia will hit her out of nowhere and linger unpleasantly, making her more emotional than she likes.
"Wistful, aren't we?"
The gruff male voice makes one of her attendants twitch her eyebrows in displeasure, as a heavily-padded footsteps make their presence known.
Another person, androgynous in appearance, floats beside him while chiding.
"You're so insensitive, Komamura! At least start with a proper greeting, idiot!"
Clicking her tongue in annoyance, the vampire growls, "You're both noisy, bastards..."
Despite her guest's appearance, she never turns her eyes away from the full moon she manifested inside her own realm.
She snaps her finger, ordering her chambermaids to provide some seats for Komamura and Rimuru, which they reluctantly obey. After pledging their lives for their master, they have a very low opinion of outsiders, whether they're beneficial to Shalltear or not, partly due to jealousy that their master's attention is diverted away from them.
Rimuru happily sits down, and starts to enjoy the sights with a child-like curiosity and appreciation. Komamura, used to such decadence, chooses to quietly sips the wine being poured by the attendants through an enlarged glass fit for his canine snout.
"Ha..." Rimuru sighs contently, saying, "I never imagined that three of us could be here, now, relaxing like this... given our differing origins."
Shalltear snorts. "Hmph. Indeed, what a crazy time it has become."
"'A Coalition of Side Characters'... that'd be a good name for a story, no?" Rimuru jokes, the slime showing a beatific, otherworldly smile.
"Shut up. I am not a 'side character'!"
She glances at the canine anthromorph for support, but Komamura himself seems doesn't mind being called that way.
Noticing her glare, he speaks up, "Unfortunately for you, years of serving my own late master has taught me plenty of humility, Shalltear. I won't force you to follow my own views, but merely to advise you to consider it," he says kindly.
"Tut, tut," Rimuru cuts him off. "I don't know Shalltear as long as you do, but I think your words are becoming very irritating for her."
"I see," he humbly acknowledges. "You are a grown woman, despite my biased views. Apologies."
She smirks, taking a sip from her glass.
"My own master treats me the same, even though I wanted for him to see me otherwise. I'm used to it, though I won't tolerate further repetitions, you damned dog."
Her insult is conveyed with a jovial tone, completely unlike their previous conversations. In any case, it's unlikely the older Komamura will mind it too much beyond a rebellious phase of a young girl.
After a while, Rimuru breaks the silence with a question.
"Nimue has been strangely silent, hasn't she? Now this regular meeting of ours has become redundant."
Two grunts reply in agreement, leaving the room with a relaxed atmosphere.
After the meeting with SHIROU, several leaders of various realms in the Reverse Side of the World came to an agreement to shut off Nimue once and for all. Many of them held a similar view to Cheryl, in that they didn't like being manipulated and used as a tool for someone else's gain. They all heard SHIROU's sincere argument and his... 'courageous' rejection of Cheryl's fake claims, and decided to band together and act mostly not to get in each other's way while supporting SHIROUfrom the shadows.
"Should we just trust Alaya's agent?" Komamura questions.
"Aren't you his biggest supporter? Why the sudden change of moods?" Shalltear queries, taking another sip of her wine.
Closing his eyes in deliberation, he carefully replies, "Because I don't trust you, Alaya."
As if on cue, a blue glowing orb manifests itself above the room near the ceiling, forcing the three powerful beings to look up and Shalltear's attendants to turn combat-ready.
- Astute.
"Hmph! Of course I am!" Shalltear snorts, her voice booming with pride. "I don't want to hear anything from something so energy-intensive it can't do anything by itself, having to sent agents after agents!"
Ignoring her latter sentence, Komamura speaks up, addressing the remaining people present.
"What SHIROU is doing, irrespective of what his wishes are, will definitely impact our livelihood here negatively. Since we are so dependent on Gaia, any action Alaya takes will, inevitably, benefit humans rather than the planet itself." Pouring the remaining alcohol down his throat, he continues, "I can't stand a good man being used to ruin others' life unintentionally."
- A necessity.
Waving their palm, Rimuru snarks, "Yeah, yeah, that's what you always say... Even after you bring our separate universes together by force to improve your chances, no?"
What the slime is referencing to is, of course, the fact that the three of them are even able to meet each other right now. Originally, they all considered their first meeting to be ordinary, just encountering a stranger. They had no idea that each and every one of them weren't originally of this world, having being brought together by an outside force.
That force was Alaya, aiming to appeal to their otherworldly values to aid it against Gaia and its original creations. Therefore, despite living in the Reverse Side of the World, they were more aligned with Alaya rather than Gaia.
The three of them, along with the other members of the temporary alliance, initially had ascended their original form in their previous world. Having reached what a storyteller could call the 'ending', they transcended their first body through various means, natural or artificial, and at some point during their boring, foe-less afterlife, their worlds and domains were drawn and tied down to this dimension like soap bubbles floating across the universe.
Having been practically kidnapped to do Alaya's bidding, it's no wonder they're distrustful towards it.
Alaya was careful to draw beings that resonated with its values closely, which was to protect humanity above all else. It searched through the Akashic Records across time and space, peering through different layers and dimensions. Among those alternate universes, these were the beings chosen to be... 'contracted' to it. It had little power in keeping them here indefinitely without letting them ascend to their own Throne of Heroes in their personal universes, but for this age and era, it was enough to assist SHIROU.
Unfortunately, transcendent beings like them were near-impossible to convince to work under Alaya, most of them refusing to move out directly and only reluctantly giving out passive assistances. The ideal situation would be a Heroic Vessel supported by a battalion of powerful beings from different universes, but this experiment was a half-failure in the end.
It was only due to SHIROU's quality as a person that convinced them to assist him in a more direct fashion. Alaya had intentionally matched each being's preference with the corresponding Heroic Vessel of that era, and SHIROU had demonstrated his unrelenting love for those he cared for, and enough care for strangers to conduct himself as a hero.
After all, across all ages, people will be enamored by heroes, regardless of what they think of the man or woman.
- Coalition?
"Forced, yes, but you got what you want, so leave us alone," Shalltear darkly says, glaring at the blue orb.
Acknowledging her reply, it vanishes, but not before one more word.
- Careful of traps.
Sigh, Rimuru wryly smiles. "Despite its personality, that personality of hers that worry too much is quite endearing."
"Hmph... all false pats and smiles," Shalltear grumbles. "Don't be naive, Rimuru. That's when it ensnares you and never lets you leave."
"I agree," Komamura concurs. "Even its own Heroic Vessels are no more than pawns for it, precious only because of the resources it spent to create them."
"I get it, I get it. In any case, her warning won't really change anything for us side characters, right? Let's just watch the main characters do the heavy lifting and take those traps. Our jobs are only to fish them out of those pitfalls, no?" Rimuru jokes, smiling.
The female vampire roughly puts down her glass, glaring at Rimuru.
"I'm no 'side character', you disgusting slime."
"Yes, yes."
"Don't copy Komamura's reply to me!"
"Well, we kind of are, right? The moment we decline its request to move directly with its Heroic Vessel in the first place consigns us to that part of history. We should accept it faster and move on, rather than being caught up in any useless pride for being the main characters of our own story," Rimuru pleads in a neutral tone. "Despite being younger than you, I can at least surmise that much, as I'm sure you have yourself. You're letting your own pride blinding you. What about you, Komamura?"
Letting out a big lonely sigh, the anthromorphic wolf gazes at the moon.
"I spent my life as that exact 'side character', so I'm used to it." Closing his wistful eyes, he continues, "I was left alone only after my master died. Even then, I couldn't avenge him before falling myself, and when I woke, everything was already over, finished by those 'main characters' you mentioned."
Taking a glance at the smaller girl, he remarks, "Weren't your situation similar to mine, Shalltear? After you lost your master..."
- Static.
"You better watch your words, mutt."
Sensing he stepped on a landmine, he relents, turning his attention to one of the female attendants and motioning her to refill his glass. Rimuru, too, realizes the atmosphere and keeps silent.
On the eternal night sky, the moon bleeds red.
- Caw. Caw. Caw.
Amidst the noisy crows squawking around, Gareth can only cover her mouth with her dainty fingers, both in surprise and disgust.
"What happened here?" She asks to particularly no one with a whisper.
What lays before her eyes is Corbenic, but not the Corbenic she remembers from her past.
The normal, run-of-the-mill castle city... lays in ruins and disrepair.
Its majestic outer walls, though not as big as Camelot's, was usually splendidly cared for and maintained, imposing its strong will against invaders. Now, numerous vegetations veined their way across the cracks in the stone, where various birds make their home and feeding ground. The sturdy gates lay open, unmanned, completely opposite of its former reputation as the first line of defense against those who dared to search for the Holy Grail.
Inside of the walls are better than she fears, although that's not saying much.
The inhabitants are still here, not abandoning the town, but the listless look in their eyes signify people that have their spirits broken and their hopes smashed. There aren't any riots or noteworthy crimes as Gareth and her companions make their way through the outer city, where they're commonplace only a short while ago among the hustle and bustle of normal life. The common folks take notice of them, and in a surprising turn of event, casually look back the other way and continues to lifelessly do whatever it is they're doing. There is no disrespect or apathy in their mannerisms, merely simple acknowledgements like how they would address their own peers.
Filvis and Cecilia carefully trod behind the noble girl, eyes scanning the neighbourhood for any potential troubles. The lack of petty crimes usually precedes a major scheme is at work, and the two of them are racking their brains to try and predict what ugly deed was done to make a proud city into this... mess.
Meanwhile, having lost the forest cover, Galahad steals a cloak from a maidservant's laundry basket and follows them on the rooftops, maintaining a larger distance than before due to the diminished hiding places. His large magic energy is still leaking quite considerably unconsciously, so he is unknowingly still being tracked by Filvis.
Despite their differing goals, the two parties are mesmerized by the condition of the city, as Galahad visits this town for the first time. The condition of the outer city makes him nervous about the well-being of his birth mother. Even though this will be the first time they meet face-to-face, their blood connection alone is enough for him to feel some sort of filial affection, and his steps become more and more irregular as they approach the inner gates, a place protecting the nobles and high-ranking official.
Gareth runs up to a weary soldier manning the inner gate with his dozing partner.
"Greetings!" She greets cheerfully, faking a smile to gain his trust.
Initially, the soldier is irresponsive to her greeting, only grunting in reply, but after taking a closer look, he realizes the one calling out to him is an incredibly attractive woman, and he stammers into attention and gives a proper greeting back. He nudges his partner with the butt of his spear to wake him up, but after seeing it has little effect, he silently gives up and greedily positions himself so that he's the only one Gareth sees.
His raised awareness also lets him see two other beautiful girls following close behind the first girl, making his imagination runs wild.
"A-Ah, greetings! How may I help you, my lady?"
His voice is clearly laced with impure intentions, a trait Gareth cares for little, but she perseveres with her kind demeanor and indulges him in a conversation.
"Yes, I'd like a passage to meet His Highness, please," she replies politely, careful to exude a noble air to convince the guard she's someone from high status. After all, she's in an important mission that's to be undertaken with extreme speed and secrecy, so she's reluctant to name herself and her connection to the Knights of the Round Table.
Surprised at the enormity of the request, since a mere gate guard like him has no right to recommend someone inside the inner palace, he speaks nervously, "M-Miss, do you realize what you're asking? That's i-impossible for me to authorize. Please wait here while I defer to my superior!"
Gareth's right eye twitches in irritation as her ploy is foiled. She's hoping to charm him into allowing them passage, but at the very least they aren't rejected right here at the gate.
Before she can issue any rebuttal, however, the guard suddenly collapses to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. At the corner of her eye, the guard's partner also experienced the same movement, falling face-first into the ground from his half-sleeping position.
"Miss Filvis!" Gareth half-shouts, glaring. "What did you do?!"
"I don't have money to bribe him, nor will I entertain his lecherous desires just to pass this shabby gate. Be grateful you don't have to spent another second being leered at, Gareth," Filvis roughly replies, walking right up to the gate.
"H-Hey, w-wait...!"
Ignoring Gareth's warning, Filvis swings her wand-sword and bisected the gate diagonally in half.
A series of claps full of pity on Gareth's shoulder comes from Cecilia, who's making an equally troubled face as her friend.
"Well, I don't know what's gotten into my sister myself," Cecilia admits, grimacing, "but this behavior... I'm quite used to it from Master Mordred, not her!"
Her admission makes Gareth chuckle lightly, toning down her dreaded fears.
"You're right. What's making her so impatient...?"
Like what she thought earlier, this quest to acquire the Grail isn't one of sword-bearing, steel-flashing, fire-burning expeditions that gallant heroes and generals are famed for. From the previous failed Grail quest, as Sir Percival has briefed them before their departure, the Holy Grail chooses its wielder not based on martial might, but out of purity of heart and intelligence of mind.
As the two young girls race hurriedly towards the opened gate, with one more additional slash, Filvis repairs the gate in an instant with several small runic circles. It's not her specialty, but basic things like this are mandatory courses for any magi.
The gate glimmers with a soft white glow as the broken pieces levitate into place, just before Galahad squeezes his body through. He slams his face right into the white restorative barrier, knocking him back. The pain and embarrassment aren't felt, however, due to his unique mentality, and he simply sprints around the inner gate to find a wall he can scale comfortably.
The detour takes him further from Filvis's group, and he nearly loses their tracks for the first several miles. Fortunately, because they share a destination, he manages to return to their tail relatively quickly.
This time, in sight of the main castle, he chooses to hasten his pace and overtake their group, launching himself up the castle walls to gain a higher vantage point. The stone tiles crack under the might of his jumps, but at the very least, the sound of his landing is muffled by carefully-timed bursts of magic energy.
Of course, all of this energy emission makes it even easier for Filvis to detect him even without looking in his general direction.
Reaching the balcony at the edge of the middle floors, he swiftly enters one of the open windows. This part of the castle is surprisingly empty of people, and he makes sure to reach the king's audience hall first before the group does.
Or, at least, that's the plan...
Meanwhile, unaware of the game of cat-and-mouse being played in Corbenic, Mordred cheerfully jaunts across the town surrounding Camelot castle, a big grin plastered across her face.
Why? Because there's an amused Shirou being dragged along in her elbows with plenty of spectators watching about.
Clearly, being a princess does little for her noble manners.
"It's a date, then!"
It was only a few hours ago when she suddenly claimed that in the middle of a conversation with him about... food, again. One thing led to another, and they find themselves nearing a bustling marketplace, uncaring of her expensive and far-more-gorgeous-than-needed dress.
Normally, noblewomen will ride in carriages, as the ground is not clean enough to be stepped on by their dainty feet. Additionally, something like going to the market is usually left out for the servants, because unlike modern supermarkets, what the merchant displays is what one will buy – in this case, livestock is sold live and unfilleted, as is the bull led by the nose by Shirou.
Pulled from the front, pulling something at the back... Some of the spectators and merchants send Shirou stares of pity as fellow men who's used to being bossed around the market by their women.
"Shirou! Can we eat this?!"
"The spices aren't enough, so maybe next time I return from abroad."
"What about this?! This looks tasty!"
"You can't eat that raw! Spit it out! Out!"
"Uwaaa... Smells great! Can we have one? Can we? Pretty please?"
"Alright, alright..."
Mordred whizzes around the market, pointing to this and that while dragging her fiancé around. The bull is struggling to keep up with the constant change of pace and direction, mooing in protest as Shirou tries to keep it calm under the stress. On it, two baskets filled with fresh vegetables and several types of seafood gently rocks about, cleverly tied down with thin cellulose fibers made by alchemy to make sure they don't spill over the road due to Mordred's speed. Clarent is also strapped there to one side, jangling every now and then.
While keeping Mordred on track, Shirou carefully expands his senses to envelop the whole market, at times using his Pure Eyes to increase the information he receives. It's not because he's expecting any attack, far from it. It's so he can scout the best produce in the market to be able to make the best food available, before anyone else can get them before him.
Hey, a man must be competitive in something, right?
He observes the sheen and the beautiful green of the vegetables, keen to spot any blemishes or diseased plants. He inhaled as much air as possible, and while some funky scent comes in with the good stuff, he tries to detect the best and most potent spices of the day and the sweetest fruits on sale. He strains his ears to listen to the cacophony of animal sounds, separating those in distress (and produce less flavour) and those which are happy (and produce the best flavour).
Of course, compared to a modern supermarket, the availability and variability of the produce are significantly lesser. The quality is also quite suspect some of the time, though the merchants of this era have at least a basic understanding on how to secure the best products and sell them at a competitive price. Also, the standard of hygiene is shockingly decent for this age, with no animal droppings from cart-pulling horses and oxen or filthy cats and dogs running around chasing infected mice, letting him relax and not worry that he has to perfom disinfecting alchemy before the mise en place.
When he discovers a new target... erm, a good produce, he subtly manipulates Mordred's weight to lead her to that particular place. As she's distracted by something interesting close by, he purchases the produce quickly, using subtle hypnotism through his normal eyes to haggle the price to the lowest acceptable point.
If anyone says he's cheating, he'll readily admit to it, before pointing out it's the least the merchants can do for him to babysit Mordred and prevent the market from getting damaged in any way.
As she stuffs her mouth with freshly-baked scones, alternating bites with salted roast meat slices, she speaks, "Whaf hie gunna gow nechks?"
He playfully pokes at her bulging cheeks, indicating she should swallow first before talking. She blushes and does just that, but before she can speak again, he carefully wipes her mouth with a handkerchief in a manner not too dissimilar from a mother doing the same to her child.
"Muu... I'm not a child anymore!"
"Then act like one, Your Highness," he snarks, smiling. "Ah, there's still crumbs here..."
She half-stomps her foot as he surgically wipes her face. The surrounding people smiles wrily at the two's antics, as the tales of the princess and her commoner-hero fiancé has circulated wildly and exaggerated for impact for a few months already. The account of him swooping in and saving her from certain death by Scáthach is the go-to trending bedtime story nowadays, and the princess's heroics during her first campaign is becoming more and more popular among aspiring female squires and knights. Despite all those fierce heroism, seeing the two act like normal couples endears themselves to the masses.
Patting her head, he reminds her, "Don't forget to leave room for dinner. Aren't you the one who wants me to cook? I won't forgive any waste."
"Absolutely!" She beams, giving him a thumbs-up. "Even if my stomach bursts and kills me, I won't waste any of Shirou's cooking!"
"Not that extreme, you idiot."
He flicks her forehead, leaving a red mark on her unblemished fair skin.
- Fwish.
His body moves automatically after the slightest indication of the air being parted with a sword. He cradles Mordred's tiny waist and pulls on the bull's reign to put them behind him, lashing out with a kick towards the outstretched hand and short sword to break it.
With a sickening crunch, the offending arm bends the wrong way around its elbow joint, dropping the sword to the ground.
However, unlike a normal person who'll howl in pain, the person simply picks up the short sword with his other hand fluidly and swings upwards, aiming to bisect Shirou in two. A long cloak and hood covers the person's body and head, preventing Shirou to see his face, but it matters little.
Before his sword makes it halfway past its swing, Clarent has already bisects the sword, the remaining arm, and the person's waist diagonally in half. A pulsing crimson energy bursts past its back, dissipating in time before hitting any bystanders.
"Fuuh..."
Mordred slowly exhales, sheathing Clarent back to the sheath stored on the bull's saddle.
She carefully eyes her surroundings, spreading her senses to detect further attacks, just like how Shirou taught her. Scrunching her brows after finding nothing, she asks Shirou, "I can't feel anything... not even before the attack. Who is this?"
The onlookers look on, clearly frightened of the short exchange. It was faster than any of them could react to, but the sudden appearance of a person's corpse cut in half after assaulting the kingdom's princess causes a stir among the crowd. The metallic clang of body armor resounds among the crowd, revealling the town knight guards rushing to their position.
- Gacha. Gacha. Gacha. Gacha. Gacha. Gacha. Gacha. Gacha. Gacha.
The bisected body twitches in front of their eyes.
Slowly, one of the hands bends and curls its fingers, then jumps and floats mid-air alongside the bottom half of the body. Soon, the upper body follows, the remaining attached hand cracks this way and that to its proper position.
Under the hood, a pair of inhuman eyes shine brightly like a pair of torchlights.
Mordred quickly yells and commands the knights.
"Evacuate everyone, hurry! Take them away from here to the outside market perimeter, but don't let anyone leave! The perpetrator might still be here!"
Her Charisma catches everyone's attention, making them obedient and do just as she says quietly. With a surprisingly little amount of time, the marketplace soon empties, leaving the pair facing against this... undead? Golem? Android?
In any case, this thing must be eliminated in a different way.
Carefully, Mordred pulls Clarent back out, eyes locked onto her target.
"Shirou, I'll pin him down. Can you take care of the rest?"
Smiling, he replies gently, "Since when are you the ones making plans between us?"
"Hey!" Mordred protests, but before she can respond any further, a weak groan is emitted from beneath the hood, warning them of the impending attack.
It stumbles forward very quickly, despite twitching in an awkward and inhuman manner. What comes to Shirou's mind is when he faced undead skeletons and corpses back in Ancient Egypt, revived using Hades's power or other god's authorities, but this thing is much faster than those cheap knock-offs.
Despite that, to the two of them, it may as well be standing still.
Mordred dashes forward, her left hand clutching Clarent's sheath she takes from who knows when. The thing automatically reacts and slashes down, but Mordred easily catches the sword inside Clarent's sheath, before kneeing its torso and twists her body, locking its neck and armpit with her pair of sturdy legs and locking it to the ground.
The instant it touches the ground, Shirou shoves a large golden ring covered in jewels and silver into its crown, embedding it deep into his skull.
Immediately, the large crown-shaped ring glows and expands. Mordred quickly releases her grip, and the thing's body is covered by rows upon rows of ancient Hebrew letters rotating in a triple-helix formation. The letters soon enlarge, interlocking with each other and creating a golden chainmail made of jumbled letters, forcing the thing's body into a rigid position and sealing it.
"Phew..."
Mordred wipes an imaginary sweat off her brow, saying, "I've never seen that before. Is that new?"
"Which one? The attacker or what I just used?" Shirou asks back.
"Er... both? Why are you always so fussy about words!?" Mordred protests cutely.
He taps her head, bringing her ears closer. He softly says in a low voice, trying to avoid anyone eavesdropping, "I have to analyze the attacker further, but that crown was made from the nails that held Jesus Christ to his cross, granting it great sealing and purifying ability."
"Oh..." Mordred replies in an equally low voice, amazed. "What's it's name? It's beautiful... and shiny..."
"What are you, a cat?" Shirou wrily smiles, pecking her cheek with a quick kiss. "It's Corona Ferrea Langobardiae."
"'The Iron Crown of Lombardy'... is it from overseas? I know the Latin, but..."
Before he can explain further, several of the knights from earlier returns, panting and huffing. Shirou quickly distances himself from Mordred, keeping their distance at arms length, lest the gossip of their intimacy will only escalate even further. Mordred turns her head away from the knights' direction to cover her blush, distracting herself by observing the thing's remains on Clarent's blade, trying to see whether it actually has blood or other fluids flowing through it.
"Sir!" One of the knights salute Shirou, recognizing him as the princess's fiancé. "The people are safely contained. Shall we bring them back?"
Shaking his head, he says, "No, not yet. This place is a crime scene, and should remain as pristine as possible, without the possibility of civilians contaminating it. I know they'd like to continue doing business, but please inform them the market will be closed for at least today, perhaps until tomorrow afternoon."
"Yes, sir!"
"Oh, and while you're at it, send someone to the castle and request Merlin's presence here, or some of his students, as fast as possible. Hurry!"
"Y-Yes, sir!"
The knights run off to the castle immediately, some of them breaking off to inform and calm the citizens and merchants down. There's no doubt Altria would need to reimburse a hefty amount to prevent the merchants taking massive losses from the close-down and making them leave.
He quietly sneaks up behind Mordred who's still observing Clarent's edge, softly wrapping his arms around her.
"Still blushing?" He whispers, lightly blowing some air into her earlobes, making her shiver.
Pouting, she shrugs his hug, retorting, "D-Don't do that in public... It's embarrassing... Wauuu..."
"Alright, alright," he relents, even though the pouting Mordred is also cute. "Can you accompany me to dissect our attacker when Merlin arrive? His students won't have high opinion of me without your presence, though Merlin won't care."
"S-Sure, anything for you..." Mordred mumbles, still with reddened ears.
Glossary Update!
C
Corona Ferrea Langobardiae – Crown of Crowns
Rank: A
Type: Support
Range: 1
Max. Targets: 1
A simple crown rumored to be forged from the nails which held Jesus Christ to his cross. Now a ceremonial item, it's lavished with gold, silver, and jewels, but the purpose of these ornamental pieces is to hide the enchantments etched into it by the divine blood of Jesus. All twelve of his final disciples, bar Judas, focused their miracles into it, creating a powerful artifact of the Church.
It's simple to use. When magic energy is paid to activate it, an array of golden symbols will surround the target and seal them. No matter how physically strong its target is, it's impossible to break out unless one has a higher Conceptual Weight than Satan himself, as this crown is crafted to battle him at the days of reckoning. However, the full strength of this Noble Phantasm will only reveal itself when an amount of magic energy equaling the combined efforts of the Twelve Apostles is infused into it, lessening its place in the fast-paced battlefield.