Heya, everyone! Long time no see! As you might've predicted, the excuse this time is still the new job. Aside from that, I was swamped with house chores now that my cleaner wasn't allowed to travel to my house due to government regulations, so my writing time was severely limited.
...alright, some new games might've taken away even more of that time, but who's counting?
Anyway, been greatly disappointed TYPE-MOON didn't follow what some American movie studios and release Heaven's Feel III online. Free or paid, I think that's the best move to salvage whatever remains of that industry. I know this sounds like a complaint from a self-entitled fan, but I simply don't see a concrete reason blocking them from doing it this way. Do you guys agree? And have an opinion which can change mine?
Now, some announcement regarding the story (finally!): This will be the start of the final few chapters. I have some surprises for you guys, as I'm finally implementing the changes I've been wanting to do since HV-S01: RKR finished. That story was clearly too long, and I don't want to do the same with this one. Thank you for being with me all this time, and look forward to the super-long epilogue I've been cooking up!
And, after a long break, the mailbag is back!
SolarxBlack: If we're talking about 'possibility', then certainly yes. However, that's still a long way away, since I'm sticking to a rough chronological order of history, both for the proper SHIROU stories and future crossovers.
An all-expenses paid holiday could bring forth differing reactions from the recipients across the time allotted, because it solely depended on how they perceived idleness.
For most hard-working citizens, it's a welcome respite in-between the hard days of labor and chores. In fact, the bonuses paid was often enough to hire those not in holiday, so they could serve as assistants to the recipients and letting the latter truly relax and enjoy themselves. The effect would be more profound the more responsibility they wielded – for instance, it's something every ruler or monarch could only dream of, such was the scale of their duties it's potentially life-threatening for their citizens if they actually had vacations.
While Greece's most recent administrative developments allowed talented retainers to be sourced from lower-class citizens, their number was far too few to be able to handle everything a large poleis could throw at them in the absence of their highest superior. It's not the fear of losing popularity of the masses, but the worry their rule would instantly disintegrate without their presence was what caused them to hesitate.
However, the same intensity could also be applied to those feeling the opposite. The sense of loss, of confusion, for idleness, having dedicated their lives to pursuing and perfecting a particular art. These people didn't differentiate their occupation from their love in life – to them, they were them, in a sense they became a living embodiment of their craft. A vacation to these people was testament to torture, as they couldn't help but see everything around them as elements for their projects, both personal and business.
Hecate clearly was the latter, as Nyneve could attest.
"2nd year, 5th month, 22nd day: Subject still refused to participate in the experiment."
Even though Hecate was technically murmuring to herself, in this realm, nothing went past Nyneve's ears. Each word sent shivers down the Lady of the Lake's spine… for exactly that amount of time the Greek Goddess of [Magic] had uttered.
"Attempting coercive method: strong sedative."
- Shuffle. Shuffle. Shuffle.
The small girl appeared to rummage around inside her robe for quite some time, with her back facing the nervous Nyneve. Soon, Hecate turned around and offered a small round chocolate ball on her open palm to the Lady of the Lake.
To be honest, it looked quite appetizing.
"Like I'll fall for that trick! Throw that thing away!"
Hecate's expression flickered momentarily, before she dissipated the object with a wave of her hand. "Note: Attempt subterfuge in the future. Possible optimum time: slumber."
Once again, it's nothing more than a whisper, but in Avalon, Hecate might've just spoken that out loud, screaming, to Nyneve directly.
The Greek goddess turned absent-mindedly to one side, no doubt concocting another attempt to vivisect Nyneve to study. She could see the smaller girl's eyes glazing over in thought, for once not directing those clear, innocent, wide eyes onto Nyneve's marbled dark form… like a child who's thinking of taking apart a particularly beautiful insect.
Hecate was simply bored. This reason, Nyneve understood very well, though she herself rarely felt the sensation because there's so many things going on outside of Avalon to be entertained by.
For one, the smaller girl didn't even take interest in those things, but the fundamental constituents of them. What made them possible? How were they born? Could they be recreated? Which part should be improved?
These were the questions constantly whirling around in Hecate's mind, befitting that of a magus's. Or, rather, it's precisely because she's like this – as the progenitor of current Thaumaturgy – that everybody else mimicked her in hope of receiving even a shred of her talent, powers, and Authorities.
Unfortunately, it's not the work of several days, months, or even years. It took generations after generations to ingrain this method of thinking – no, of living – into the very essence of the magi's souls: to seek knowledge and trial improvements, because nothing was perfect. Nothing should be perfect, because it indicated stagnation, and eventually, [Death].
This was why Hecate and Thanatos didn't particularly get along. While they rarely met, their very nature opposed each other: one of [Motion], and the other of [Stillness] – two tenets derived from χάος at the beginning. She didn't know who her predecessor was, but she was already born with this duty from the [Void], via the combination of [Infinite] and [Nothing] – as most deities were. Given the fact the current generation didn't get along at all with the previous one, this was one aspect Hecate would gladly not study in the future.
Perhaps her students could get to the bottom of this later? After all, it's not her top priority to study advanced alien life, and one so far above their own Conceptual Weight they wielded the Authority of [Creation] wantonly. Normally, it's an Authority restricted to a select few deities – the chief patron of [Life], the supervisor of a given world, and the head deity. However, the Protogenoi before the Titans all had this ability, showcasing their frightening tendency to shape the world as they pleased.
From the deepest reaches of the universe, to the wandering alien lords, to the birth of the local rulers of a given living planetary system, infesting the Ultimate Ones they chose. Or were the latter similar to the first? Were those progenitors merely Ultimate Ones from a sufficiently powerful bodily phenomenon, capable of bending the laws however they wanted?
It's the duty of her, the [Trinity], and those who learned under her, to unveil as much Mystery as possible and harness it. People might be frightened regarding the relative finiteness of it, thinking the more it disseminated, the lesser the power they could wield.
Fools. There was no way they could even begin to fathom the principles of [Infinite] and [Nothing], where there were no perceivable limits in those aspects. Why would they worry about such petty things with their puny lives? If there wasn't enough of one particular thing, then study how to make the situation better. Could they harvest more? Should they look at a different avenue? How could they make things more efficient and effective, to the point of a bottleneck?
Without this mindset, truly, humanity was doomed to be slaves to their own desires, never mind the beings standing over their existence.
Therefore, now that she's been presented with the opportunity to live in another dimension, she should do her utmost to understand things.
Starting from the ruler's body.
- Shuffle. Shuffle. Shuffle.
Her long white robe and large hat waved in the comforting cool wind, but her fingers were moving in a way which they clearly weren't.
"Now, Miss Nyneve, please stay still…"
"Get away from me! Sir SHIRŌŌŌŌŌŌ! HEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLPPP!"
Unusually, the Adventurers' Guild wasn't being swamped by requests, as it was throughout its existence. Of course, it had its downtime, but even on that period, they were always short on capable people to complete tasks, both the adventurers and the staffs. While they gave out large benefits to those they hire, the most lucrative intangibles Chiron offered was the responsibility and due diligence the Guild took before they took the first step to address and work with anyone.
That was why even the wildest scum held the centaur in high respect. They didn't necessarily like him, agree with his methods, or place him in a special corner in their hearts. However begrudging it was, they had to admit he was the single most influential individual in Greece who constantly stayed in the mortal realm, beyond those rulers and monarchs of various polis.
But, today, Chiron frowned as he analyzed the various reports laid out on his table.
They all indicated one thing: Nobody's hiring adventurers, at least temporarily.
Oh, he heard of the large-scale festival Colchis was about to hold, under 'divine mandate' from Zeus. It's going to be the biggest Greece had ever had, as the first truly international competition between mortals.
Logically speaking, constructing such an event to the level the Olympians could be satisfied of would require tremendous highly-skilled manpower in all aspects of its design. Inevitably, the adventurers should be called, either as the people directly involved in the project, contractors, or second-phase workers. Given they came from various walks of life, the Guild offered its clients the greatest possible variety of able hands…
…so, why was no one hiring them to be involved in Colchis?
The kingdom's sudden decision to open its trade routes and doors was shocking enough, after many generations of both inadvertent and intentional isolation, but this?
He had lived a long life, which was why he could smell trouble from miles away without stepping one hoof out of his office. As always, Shirō was playing his secretive game, and there's no way Atalanta would do anything against her husband – besides, she had attained a status beyond what Chiron could officially affect, anyway. Despite only reigning for a short while, her immense popularity combined with the groundwork laid out by her father beforehand meant Arcadia's national strength grew greatly, perhaps only half a step away from matching Athens, Thebes, and Sparta as military superpowers.
Of course, those three noticed this at the same time, or perhaps even earlier, than him, and had prepared accordingly. A large-scale chess game had commenced the instant Atalanta's wedding took place, with its preparation stretching far beyond that – to the era of the last makhia. However, Shirō placed the three of them in a deadlock through sheer brute force, as the definitely-intentionally leaked information regarding what truly happened at Atlantis indicated.
Truth be told, not even Chiron or Herakles had grasped the entirety of that young man's strength.
Judging one's strength was far more complicated than calculating it from two or three different parameters, simply because of its intangibility. Physical power could be measured. Pain tolerance could be measured. Outright raw speed and peak acceleration could be measured. However, even those three combined couldn't precisely be described as a person's complete 'strength', because of the influence of the mind and spirit in it.
And that included how one reacted under pressure or threats, both to themselves and their loved ones. This parameter housed many different and crucial data points on its own, which was quite impossible to predict even with the aid of Thaumaturgy.
Perhaps Hecate could've measured it, but she had never shown any intentions of pursuing this branch of knowledge. Neither did her two main students, too, and one of them was literally by Shirō's side, taking the same guarded stance against those who'd antagonize the charming young man.
Really, what's so good about him? He's physically attractive, yes, but not overly so – certainly not at the level of those beautiful men blessed, or cursed, by their patron deities. Overall, Shirō was… normal-looking, Chiron guessed? In an era where one could find an inhuman trait in an individual every few dozen yards, he's actually quite unremarkable. Even his copper-red hair wasn't an uncommon trait.
Certainly, when compared to the otherworldly – some might say 'divine', even – beauty of his wives, there's quite a bit of a physical mismatch there. Plus, they're all petite, fragile-looking flowers – certainly not suitable pairings for the rather tall and muscular young man.
Oh, those women had their own legions of fans, no doubt – even Medusa, who was only recently introduced to human civilization. Apparently, her petite body and adorable series of expressions whenever teased had become sort of an urban legend among the young men of Greece, especially when word got out Poseidon once coveted her. Another rumor got out that's why the Argo stormed Atlantis – a showcase humans weren't willing to become simple playthings of the gods, subject to their every whim.
Poseidon desired a woman? Then he had to fight for her, same as with any other man, mortal or not.
Somehow, Athena's involvement in the raid was minimized, to the point people hailed the Argo as the champion against the tyrannical and unreasonable God of the [Sea].
This was also another issue Chiron didn't see any resolution near the horizon.
This past year had been a restless one for Poseidon's priests and priestesses, chiefly for their efforts of public assurance and control. Naturally, Greece relied a lot on their maritime resources, and the absence of the God of the [Sea] – they weren't prepared to release the information of his 'death' yet – caused many sailors to initially refuse to do business. Therefore, for a short while, trades were stopped completely, with incredible amounts of incurring debt and stuck produces racking up quickly.
However, after a few months had passed – no, perhaps earlier than that – no earthquakes, tsunami, equestrian rampages, etc. happened, people started regaining confidence. Perhaps another deity had taken over managing Poseidon's related Authorities? Perhaps the god himself was still alive, but dormant somewhere, allowing automated passive systems to take over his tasks? Either way, in the short time where no ships dared sail, Arcadia had developed its next generation fleet, ready to brave the oceans just a few days prior to the first ships from other places did.
It might not have been much, but those first precious days of head start compounded its effects as the weeks and months passed by, allowing quality, limited fresh produces from Arcadia's lush environment to saturate the market just enough to hike up demand. Crucially, its fleets were equipped with high-class, complicated preservation Thaumaturgy, allowing customers – those who could afford it – to enjoy things as fresh as they came out of the necessary basic processes.
There's no doubt among those in the know this was Medea's work, as only she now held the key to Hecate's vast amount of divine knowledge and skill. Her senior apprentice, Circe, had gone into seclusion, with no one able to locate her island at present, giving Arcadia an incredible economic advantage all of a sudden.
Chiron could only sigh. Must Shirō cause problems for him whatever that young man did? Not to lambast Atalanta, but there's no way someone of her nature and intelligence would be able to seize this opportunity and capitalize on it in this manner… because the period of fleet development and Æëtes's rule-cum-disappearance overlapped.
Which meant Shirō already had someone deep in the Arcadian court to prepare the first steps to Atalanta's coronation, as well as her subsequent few first policies. This was clearly the most important: a showcase of Arcadian wealth to the world.
Did Chiron have evidence of this? Absolutely not. That S-Ranker was too good to leave loose ends, and especially wary of people of the centaur's capabilities and reach. Of course, this, too, was speculation, as Shirō had never been anything other than polite, affable, and just in front of the Guild Master. He wasn't hard to handle like Atalanta, or a piece of walking political disastrous bait like Medea, or a dormant tykebomb capable of flattening Mycenae if triggered like Medusa, even when they first met – when he's barely a kid coming into his teenage years, and him an established senior citizen.
He wasn't worried Shirō would become the next villain to unify Greece to oppose him. There were many in the past: the Protogenoi, the Titans… Always a subject for humanity to antagonize, so they could worship the Olympians more and empower them for the safety they provided. Shirō would always had the interests of humanity, and its prosperity, at heart. This, Chiron was absolutely sure.
But he couldn't help but worry for the next generations of heroes. What kind of world would they live in, fight with, and died against? A place where a patriarchal circle of murder and vengeance perpetuated itself for eternity? Or an era ushered forth by this unassuming redheaded man, where all preconceived notions would be broken down, analyzed, and rebuilt into something new?
Humanity wasn't necessarily accepting of change, even though deep inside they realized it's for the better. [Stagnation] was in their nature, and unfortunately, it more often than not outweighed the attribute of [Innovation] also in-built within them – both remnants of χάος permeating the universe.
What kind of individual could bring forth a cosmic change across an entire species? Just like a lethal parasite, where one mutation was enough to propagate infinitely fast and silent, until its host didn't even realize the changes to their own body.
A deity capable of infiltrating, manipulating, and changing the human conscious.
No, Jason wasn't this thing. But his currently-unknown patron deity must have a connection to this phenomenon, if not the one outright responsible for it.
- Knock. Knock.
"Come in," he calmly called out to the sudden door knocks. When he saw who entered, he smiled teasingly, "I expected you to blow the door of the hinges, boy."
"Hmph…" Achilles grumbled, his body dirty and full of scratches, though none appeared to be lethal. "Spare me your jokes, teacher."
At the very least, this green-haired boy had enough manners to stand up, instead of plopping down and dirtying Chiron's furniture.
Completely unlike another green-haired person the centaur knew… who's now a queen…
That thought made him dread the incoming headache, almost making him instinctively reach for the hidden stash of alcohol he stored in a hidden compartment in his table in front of his latest protégé.
More and more often, the Arcadian royal kitchen staff is getting bolder in their questions towards me whenever I take over and make dinner for my wives.
Originally, the first day I was here was greeted with a healthy mix of incredulousness, surprise, skepticism, and some other emotions from their eyes. It's natural – after all, never before in their lives they've heard of an actual king, whether a ruler or just a consort like me, cooking. While Greece has a deep culinary history and a strong culture, it's still seen as a menial task suitable only for the weaker, feebler, and most importantly, of the female sex. Unlike modern times, when the standards of culinary arts have grown to a point it becomes a much more physical and mental occupation that males are starting to be the expected sex in the kitchen, the patriarchal culture is still strong in this era.
Especially with me doing a recipe never before seen by the public eye.
Unlike the era where 'Shirō Emiya' is born in, there's no need of showcasing one's achievements and skill in cooking… because it won't change much, and ends up being a waste of time and energy. In Mycenaean Greece, where might is right, it's more beneficial to conquer passively with arms rather than intelligence or other subtler skills.
Atalanta's favorite apple pie… upgraded.
Our previous home in the forest had plenty of natural produce, yes, but they may've been… too natural. There's a reason why selective breeding lasts for so long into the future, even though scientific research points out it's not healthy for the natural evolution of crops, because once people taste what the optimum taste of something, they'll desire it greatly over and over again, natural selection be damned. They demand the sweetest, the largest, the freshest, the juiciest, and many other superlatives on their plates, which is also why movements to go back to natural variety, instead of selected breeds, are growing far too slowly for my liking.
The apples we get from the virgin forest we live in have incredible tartness and sharpness, but rarely enough sweetness or size to make the dish I want without compromising with using too many spices. Of course, it meant the apple pies I baked previously only used natural methods and ingredients, such as cooking in an underground oven made from dug-out earth, incorporating fragrant leaves and chunky plant hearts to bolster the filling, extracting butter from the husks of various fruits, etc.
The one I'm making right now can be considered 'classic' by modern standards, but completely alien to the people in this era, who're used to the methods I just described. Even in the royal kitchens around the world, it's almost expected for a cook to avoid changing a main ingredient's natural flavor and texture too much, partly due to the culture of presenting every dish as a sacrifice and showcase to the gods.
Now that my wife is rich and politically powerful, it'll be a waste not to abuse that to my heart's content, right?
Commanding workers and artisans to modify the kitchen and create tools to my design, and mine only. Importing goods from far away, while pushing for the cultivation of mistreated plants and animals locally. Gathering and copying documents from various city-states, villages, and palaces to create a library matching Alexandria's grand one, but focused on food.
The fact Arcadia becomes wealthy incredibly quickly only serves to justify my actions, no matter how unintentional it is. I mean, I only intended for us to break even, but hey, I'll take it.
Perhaps I should as Acastus to invest in similar things in Iolchos as well? There's no doubt Pelias has already turned tail, either manipulated or not, so any obstacles for me is gone. Speaking of which, do my parents want to return home? I may not be able to place them back to the royal throne they were taken away from, but I can guarantee they'll be able to live peacefully until their end times in the land they have such a high attachment to.
Regardless, I better focus on the task at hand, if I want to make this perfect.
More for myself than Atalanta, or my other wives, to be honest. Why settle for an imperfect result when I know full well it's within my capacity to produce an unblemished product?
"Your Majesty, what's the purpose of using so much lard?" One of the palace maids asks, having squeezed her way through the crowd populated by mostly kitchen staff. "Won't the taste be too… gamey and heavy?"
I'm glad I've integrated myself very well with the workers around me, because if it's anyone else with traditional views and background, her question will most certainly face severe punishment – maybe even execution. I think it's not disrespect, but a healthy curiosity from a young person.
She's cute, too, according to Mycenaean Greece's standards. Of course, she's not at the level of my wives, whose beauty transcends cultures and eras – and even mortality, if Poseidon's inclinations were anything to speak of.
"The main thing is to prevent the crust from sticking to the container we're using. Therefore, untreated lard is still suitable. Naturally, the ones I use in the ingredients themselves are processed according to my methods. I'll teach you guys later," I patiently explain. "Also, because the lard is in direct contact with our heat source, there's nothing standing between the gaminess and blood with the charcoals, and thus they burn off easily, leaving only the pleasing aroma. For Atalanta – Her Majesty, I mean – whose senses are far sharper than normal, every little detail counts, because she can enjoy it more than your average person."
While the palace maid was blushing the entire time I was explaining intensely to her, she tensed up when I mentioned the queen's name. It also seems most of the people here share her current state of mind, since even though girls all admire me – narcissistic thought unintentional – they're even more afraid of Atalanta to truly do anything overt.
She has demonstrated time and again she can hear and smell me cooking from her royal chamber, which is traditionally located as far away from places like the kitchen and stables as possible.
Pastry making has been practiced around this area for more than two millennia, from the times of the ancient pharaohs to the rulers of Sumer. Gilgamesh liked it too, when I recreated it using ingredients found in her era, even though it's not a dish supposedly born at that time. Perhaps one of those instances got recorded in a stone tablet and passed down to future chefs, enabling the Greeks nowadays to enjoy pies much earlier and in more sophisticated form?
Now, that's a change of fate I can get behind with.
"Here, try a spare piece."
I carefully scoop out a small part and move my hand as to feed her with my own fingers, thinking it's best if she tries it rather than constantly asking me questions.
…until a violet missile slams into that very hand, devouring the pie piece in one breath.
I know Medusa has the [Serpent] attribute, but isn't her jaw opening a bit too wide? I'm not sure even king cobras can dislocate their mandibles that big…
…because my entire hand is now inside her cheeks, as opposed to the more romantic scene of a boy sweetly feeding a girl her treats through his hands.
Like a piranha, she has leapt from the kitchen's periphery – attracted by the smell of my cooking – right into my offending limb, eager to snatch the first bite before anyone else.
- Munch… Munch… Gulp.
"Er… can you let go of my hand, my lovely wife?"
- Grr…
Like a cute puppy being denied her toy, she puffs out her cheeks – with my hand still inside – and vigorously shakes her head. The strength in her neck and jaw muscles is such I have no doubt a normal human being will have their arm ripped right off its socket, but in her childish tantrum, she seems to have forgotten her actual strength.
"Ah… are you jealous you're not the first one to taste?" I guess, evaluating her body language and the negative emotion outpouring out of her petite body.
Despite her current mental age supposedly vastly over her physical one, because of her stunt against Ars Theurgia, it appears she's not above using her adorable appearance to endear herself to the populace, up to including acting like a pampered child.
Which, I must add, is actually incredibly appropriate, if not for the issue of her actual age, both mentally and physically. Given she was likely born soon after the Olympians first established their reign, she's likely to be older than the current entire mortal population of Greece combined. While her growth was significantly stunted because of the environment she's lived in, her time with me – as well as the connection we built – ensure she's quickly catching up in that department.
Doesn't make her antics in front of me any less adorable, though.
"Alright, alright… I'll leave it to you for quality control, okay?" I reach out with my other hand – still dirty from handling the ingredients, and pat her head.
She doesn't mind the smell and moisture, though, and happily squints while nodding. The prospect of constantly eating any of my failed work seems to have energized her, as she hops up and down in place, much to the cooing of the crowd.
…with my hand still in her mouth.
Really, sometimes I wonder how she can get this devious. Who taught her this way…?
"Aaahhh…"
Because of her increased workload, Atalanta had taken every opportunity to be spoiled by her family. Faced day by day not by monsters or natural disasters, but mountains of paperwork, meetings, and task delegating, she's completely out of her element. Despite her best efforts to renovate the Arcadian royal palace to fuse it closer to the nature she loved – using the influx of money the kingdom had recently acquired – being in an artificially-constructed confined space stressed her out after some time.
Therefore, whenever her beloved husband was available to feed her, she'd drop every task and simply relax in his lap.
Well, she didn't fit quite as well as when Medusa was doing it, owing to their size differences, but she's slim and petite enough it's still appropriate. The only disturbing thing was her tail being squished in-between her ass cheeks and his crotch, but this was solely due to the intermittent shivers of pleasure the pressure was giving, interrupting her eating time.
Truly, he had never run out of new recipes for her to taste. Even this apple pie was a significantly different iteration than the last one she ate… and she ate a lot of apple pies.
The softness of the filling was surprising, in contrast to the extra-crispy crust fighting against her teeth and rough tongue, indicating the apples were probably stewed in some sort of sweet mixture for some time. Usually, cooking wild apples only served to intensify their strange textures, even though they did get sweeter, so he usually compensated with other things to distract her from this weakness.
While her enhanced senses had served her well all her life, safeguarding herself and those she cared about, as well as allowing her to enjoy Shirō's food to the fullest… it's things like this when she began to rethink that opinion.
Oh, he did his best with whatever was around them all the time, creating things far better than any of her attempts, despite her improvements in the cooking department recently. However, skills could only get one so far with subpar ingredients and equipment, and the fact her past home was so saturated in her own Domain it also interfered with the more basic Thaumaturgy Shirō was using in cooking only served to rub the point home.
However, here? In Arcadia's royal palace, situated as per tradition on the most prosperous local leyline? With all ingredients available, either procured locally or imported, and the money to purchase all of those luxuries?
She could only hope she wouldn't get fat.
Still, she's been eating like a wild boar ever since she met Shirō, and her figure barely changed. Surely, that's a good enough reason to pig out whenever and wherever, right?
Medusa agreed with her, copying her eating mannerisms, while Medea squinted in disapproval. It appeared her mortal blood meant the magus could still get fat, somehow – despite the already-established fact practicing Magecraft burnt energy from within the body. Fat magi meant they're either too inefficient in their Thaumaturgy, or truly lazy and gluttonous enough to become a trash of society.
Of course, Medea was neither, so Atalanta didn't really understand her aversion to eating to her heart's content. Surely, that's what nature ordained? For sustenance, grueling efforts were necessary; and now that everything's available, one would unnecessarily abstain?
How curious…
- Nom…
Even though Medea clearly had no inclination against feeding off Shirō's hands, just like her and Medusa. So, why…?
However, seeing the looks of ecstasy appearing on both of those girls – and one she's sure her face was showing – she let that train of thought slide in order to solely focus on the food at hand.
…or, to be more precise, at her husband's hand, that was.
As always was the case nowadays, in their private time, no matter how humid or warm it was, they'd always choose to snuggle together. At times, Medusa would even revert into her newly-learned serpentine form to engulf all of them together, much to Shirō's laughter at time due to Medea clearly suffering under the weight.
However, they were happy. Far more than they would've been, if what their original fates they gleamed from their husband's knowledge were true.
Now, though, they'd merely set up a low table, congregate around Shirō's side, and enjoy being pampered by him.
Occasionally, these moments were interrupted by the complicated expressions surfacing to his face, betraying his usual insistence of not bothering them with his own stuffs. All three of them were close enough to him to be perceptive of these moments, and initially, they only served to anger the three women.
Weren't they husband and wives? Hadn't they sworn in their hearts and to the universe they'd share everything? Didn't they just spent some time with Shirō's patron deity – Alaya – and even it approved of their presence? So why was he still hesitant in trusting them with his basest thoughts and fears? Shouldn't they face it together, instead of fracturing into individual efforts?
But no.
They'd realize it's the opposite: They couldn't trust him to get the job done. This was simply his way of caring for them, to express how much he loved them – by stupidly shouldering things which would definitely break these happy moments of theirs apart, and leaving nothing but bitter regrets in their places.
Therefore, there's only one thing to do. He's not going to change; they're not going to change – since they'd changed plenty over the past several years – so they did the realistic thing: compromise.
The three women worked to get stronger, enough so he wouldn't worry about them and able to truly enjoy their company. Their victory against Ars Theurgia was a good first step; all they need was to build from that point on. There's no reason to get overly nosy, because that's what's generally accepted in the current era: both husband and wife wouldn't poke their noses into each other's business and responsibility, not because they're estranged, but because they had full trust in each other to manage their own problems effectively and efficiently.
"Aaahhh…"
"Aaahhh…"
"Aaahhh…"
- Nom, nom, nom…
Like baby birds, they spoiledly opened their mouths and pleaded for Shirō to feed them – this time Medusa played along and pretended she's a docile, cute child, instead of the limb-devouring little monster she was earlier in the kitchen. Initially, Medea was rather shy in participating in these activities – hypocritically, because she greatly enjoyed their orgies, so why not a feeding session? Apparently, the royal table manners taught to her were too deeply ingrained for her to bypass it instantly.
Now, though? She's just as openly spoiled as the rest of them, eliciting a wry smile from the redheaded man.
They'd been at it since the start of the meal, as they're now into the dessert he's been baking – the apple pie… iteration number something-something. There's too many he'd made for Atalanta since the first days they met he'd lost count. This was even tweaked further before this had gotten onto their mouths after Medusa's input… which was to put a lot more lard and fillings, enough to make it nauseatingly fragrant and physically stretched out like a balloon.
Naturally, even this wasn't enough for Atalanta and Medusa, while Medea's more normal portion had made her swoon sleepily due to the amount of sugar and fat contained within it. She laid her head sideways, nuzzling from slightly behind him onto his shoulder, closing her eyes while still opening her mouth, clearly trying to compete with the other two 'animals' in terms of food.
- Munyu.
After these past few years, it's no longer her head touching him, but also her burgeoning breasts and butt. Much to Atalanta's annoyance, Medea had been quickly filling up, owing to a healthy mix of physical adventuring and Shirō's divine meals. Her lustrous violet hair – one she's proud of even before she left Colchis – had grown longer, nearing Medusa's adult form's serpentine curtain in total length.
Given one of Shirō's wives had finished growing – unfortunately – and the other could barely control her own physical form, it made Medea the most suitable person to head the foreign diplomacy division of Arcadia. It also helped she's actually experienced in dealing with nobles, royalties, and other influential figures, though she tried to play it down because all she did in the past was sit down and do her best to look like a pretty doll.
However, any of the related tasks regarding than went out of the window as she dutifully licked the cream topping off her husband's rugged fingers.
Still, her growth spurt – one much more natural than Medusa's sudden overnight one – made her current outfit completely inappropriate. Her favored dress in private time was her regular translucent purple baby-doll negligee… and it suited her younger, slimmer self just fine. However, now, the area around the chest was filled beyond capacity, nearly bursting, and her added height made the skirt scandalously short. In fact, just sitting right here gave Atalanta and Medusa a good view of her recently-grown pubic hair, as the hem around her thighs lifted up from her squirming around.
"Really, aren't you all eating too much…?" Shirō jovially commented, earning himself several pinches towards the abdomen from his wives.
"Missing adventurers? Are you sure they're not just… you know, dead?" Herakles pointed out semi-sarcastically, keeping his tone rather serious only because of Asclepius's and the others' grave expressions. "That possibility can't be ruled out until we found the body, right? Even then, Thaumaturgy can-"
"Perhaps 'exodus' is a more appropriate term," the taciturn healer cut. "Or 'treason', whichever you prefer."
"Nothing we've never dealt with before, right? Those nobles often sent their own people, but we flushed them out good…"
Asclepius's long hair swayed as he shook his head. "These are people who're better than that. You should've realized this fact the moment you saw this list."
The object he speaking of was pinned underneath one of his dainty, long fingers – perfect for delicate magical surgeries – listing various names and information. Though most of them were forgettable D- and C-Ranked adventurers, several names perked up.
Most notably A-Ranker, Meleager.
While the story of his unrecruited love was rather famous, it got old as quick as any other romantic stories circulating around the Guild. The only interesting thing about him was the fact he's chasing Atalanta, Arcadia's current regent, and the fact her husband was one of such renown quickly killed off any slanderous gossip about this case. So, it hurriedly died off as soon as her marriage was finally announced to the public, some time after the wedding ceremony.
He had been a valuable member of the Guild throughout his career. Even though his background story was… rather boring, to be honest, when compared to Atalanta's sensational childhood, Herakles's multitude of blessings, etc., but those who carefully analyzed his work realized he's just as versatile, powerful, and capable as any person one could find in the Guild.
When groups of low-levelled adventurers disappeared into thin air, there's several speculations: they're dead, deserted, or held captive somewhere. Given the dangerous nature of the job, the former and the latter were more commonly expected. 'Desertion', though, was another matter entirely, whether the involved parties were manipulated or not.
Usually, punishments for that were immediate dismissal from the Guild, along with the revocation of all Guild services provided to said people. Additionally, if somehow they were involved in a criminal activity, then the Guild reserved the right to join in any official or unofficial investigations, sending higher-ranked adventurers as judge, jury, and executioner – depending on the severity of the crime. Generally, the Guild was more severe in its punishments because they didn't have a single formal holding cell for criminals, so they simply left the deserters in others' custodies.
Of course, if enough evidences were provided to show it's not a voluntary desertion, as well as lack of crime perpetrated after they left the Guild, then it would simply wash its hands off the matter and readied itself to welcome them back with open arms after the investigation was finished.
Cold and callous, yes, but a necessity in this savage era, where a god's whims could end the life of a nation in a heartbeat. Look out for oneself and those they cared about, and act appropriately. Do not rely on someone else's mercy, because not even the gods granted it all the time.
B-Rankers and above were… troublesome.
That's what Herakles and Asclepius thought, as the rest of the group slowly filtered into the semi-private area at the back of a Guild branch near the S-Ranker's house.
Well, it's mostly the members of the Argo, bar its captain and its wives – 'Surely, they're engaging in acts of debauchery every day and night!' Some of the jealous members thought of their absences – but the other core members were present.
Ancaeus, Atalanta's uncle, fresh from finishing the final processes of treating the Calydonian Boar's hide for his niece's gift. Well past his prime, but still incredibly experienced and resourceful – his current dual occupation as both hunter and helmsman was very useful for the crew. A recently-promoted C-Ranked adventurer.
Castor and Pollux, the Dioscuri twins. Fraternal only in sex, but not in appearance. Recently, they'd been training hard after the helplessness they felt against Poseidon, trampling all over the confidence they gained when beating up his minions. Still very young, but clearly talented.
Hylas, Herakles recent assistant. Beautiful beyond compare, he also served as the S-Ranker's lover and bedwarmer in recent journeys. A reliable person despite his age and status, and an eager worker. Typically, Herakles assigned him various important menial tasks he himself didn't have the time to do, slowly teaching him the multiple ways a servant could serve not only his master, but also others.
Peleus, king of Phthia, and the other A-Ranker besides Asclepius present. It seemed his son had recently become Chiron's students, and thus… this father had nothing better to do. Might as well join these group of adventurers and take on his former rank, having had a sabbatical to create a family and settle down his kingdom in the past. Besides, Acastus, Jason's brother and the other supposedly-present Argonaut, was his benefactor.
Theseus, the current king of Athens and friend to Æëtes. Here to hopefully observe what had become of Medea – a girl he considered his own daughter several years ago – after she got married. Alas, she was undoubtedly with her husband right now. To avoid misunderstandings, he came with casual, low-born clothes, so people wouldn't associate his presence with being Æëtes's spy – he could care less of what that overprotective man demanded, despite the latter bringing up 'international relationships' and 'trade relations' and so on.
Fortunately, this Guild branch was accustomed to hosting high-ranked individuals, solely due to the fact Herakles lived nearby. Question his work ethic and social attitude, yes, but not his connections. Despite every wrong thing he'd done, there's no denying his charisma and bravery – two attributes most prized in masculine men and heroes in this age. That's why Hylas so willingly served him with all his body and heart: pure admiration and respect, bordering on love.
Even if people thought Asclepius would've been the one to lead the conversation, it's how Herakles reacted and answered would be the one truly dictating the pace, as well as the response this group would take. After all, determination could only get one so far – power was a necessity to succeed. With one part of the Argo currently occupied with running Arcadia, as well as flirting with each other, Herakles held a good percentage of the crew's total fighting prowess by himself.
"Do you think they'll show up in the upcoming Olympic Games? That's the only event I can think of where the perpetrators can gain maximum leverage…" Herakles mumbled loudly enough to be heard by everyone. "A terrorist attack? But how can an organization sway that many adventurers away from the Guild? Shouldn't Chiron… Guild Master realize this sooner and act?"
Disregarding his faux pas – as the centaur hated to be disrespected in front of other, especially by Herakles, who'd caused enough troubles for him already – Asclepius nodded, adding, "Existing mind control techniques would be insufficient for something of this scale. Given the turmoil happening among the Olympians lately, it's likely the culprit was one of them… or someone else operating at the same level."
The lower-ranked adventurers took longer to process all of these information, simply because they're not as privy to rumors and without connections as wide as their seniors. For instance, most of them didn't even realize a pantheon outside of what they'd known of since a child existed, much less having the same strength as the current Olympians. They'd participated in Atlantis's demise, sure, but how about the repercussions of it? Very few among them had grasped the full impact from that incident, both positive and negative ones.
Why hadn't the Olympians taken revenge on Poseidon on humanity? No matter how unpopular a deity was, there's usually at least one sympathetic individual who wreaked chaos whenever their 'partner' met their demise. Though most of the times it's only on the level of pranks, this was relative to gods, so usually what happened was a cataclysm among the mortal plane.
But for Atlantis… there's nothing. Absolutely zilch.
This was the first time Olympus had officially announced something after that city-state's destruction, barring annual festivals, so it's reasonable those who're directly involved in the raid were worried.
No, not worried for the incoming disaster – they knew it's coming – but what was coming.
For the civilians, who didn't know better, they just thought this was a new form of festival, as Zeus announced things such as 'celebrating human prowess' and 'presenting a divine show' – precisely a perfect scenario for a large-scale event affecting the innocent populace.
"Alright, let's go over what's planned for the event," Ancaeus finally said something, after spending the entire time being contemplative. "At the very least, we'll know how the surface will go."
Hylas immediately read from the list he'd prepared beforehand, "There's various distances of footraces, chariot races, and then… martial arts. Those were the three main categories, branching out also according to genders and age."
"Genders? That's unusual…" Herakles crudely remarked.
While Greece had a more tolerant view of women in powerful positions in society when compared to the cultures surrounding it, it's still rare for a grand competition this size to immediately feature women's participation, instead of taking the usual contemplative route over several editions. The most extreme example was the Amazons, as even they had to wait for a period of time before their own strength was enough to pressure others to include them in multi-cities festivals.
Women who's associated with important individuals, such as Herakles's wife Megara, had it slightly better only for the fact their husbands or close relatives were allowed to bring them along. If Megara wished to invite herself and attend a general party on her lonesome, then her social rank must be so far above the host it's viewed with a blind eye. That's why generally women held their own parties, dinners, and other social events, further isolating them from the other gender.
"Are we competing?" Peleus asked, more in jest rather than actual intent. "There's still life in these old bones yet!"
"We're nearly the same age, you dolt," Herakles shot him down, his eyes twitching in irritation. "Why are you dragging me into this indirectly?"
"Oh, that's intentional."
"You-!"
"No, we will not," Theseus cut in between them, his well-trimmed beard framing his serious visage better. "We shall stand guard. The young ones will."
"Agreed," Asclepius nodded, then turning his attention towards the younger members. "Hylas, the twins… prepare yourself. Especially Pollux – we'll rely on you more than usual."
"Yes, sir!" The androgynous girl saluted cheerfully.
