["Natrite, while useful in a variety of applications, is extremely unstable and must be stored in cool, secure conditions. Do not shake the box. Just don't." — The Prospective Engineer's Guide, Chapter 3: "Stupid Mistakes, and How to Avoid Them"]
Kiritsugu had never enjoyed creamy dishes however much Shirou had tried to convince him otherwise. Still, he had to admit the poached river eels had been surprisingly delicious—even if they had resembled nothing so much as slimy strings of blue spaghetti.
The Marquisa had also been a surprise, enough to make him remember old adages about conclusions and jumping towards them. The way her eyes glinted above her shrewd smile reminded him a little of old Raiga sitting sternly in the middle of the local yakuza web. And her frank and unflattering assessment of Lieutenant Alfray's mustache, accompanied by the slyest of smirks, indicated she might yet teach him how to pull the strings. Perhaps lunch had been a good use of time after all, although he couldn't shake the impatience jittering through his nerves.
Now here he was walking across the northeastern courtyard and toward the isolated stone hut at its center. Apprehensively he picked his way through the burnt and torn remains of trees and herb patches.
How can I tilt the board?
Interrogating the warrior had provided some details of the Demon Lord's fortress—sheer walls of dark stone and iron stairs in shifting geometries. However ominous, it was also a base of operations staffed by servants and soldiers. As might be expected, the inhabited areas—the kitchens and armories and training halls—shifted only slowly, if at all. The higher one climbed, the more unstable things became. The few times the warrior had been called to audience, she'd had to climb a wildly twisting maze of staircases and bridges before reaching the Demon Lord's silver throne.
Staircases that could presumably flip at any moment and throw him to a painful spiky death. Unless he could find an anchor or a cloak, his mission was doomed from the start.
Maybe the witch could provide something. Maybe not. But today's earlier duel screamed that if she did, he would have to draw it from her. Her deference and lack of confidence would prevent her from offering it proactively.
No bounded fields brushed against him as he approached the door of the hut, nor did he spot any cunningly inscribed runes along the mantel. Either the witch was trusting, or more clever than she appeared on the surface. He'd be finding out soon.
He rapped smartly on the door. No lightning incinerated him. Only the sound of muffled whistling from inside, followed by 'hold on, I'm… ouch!' and a thud.
Kiritsugu waited a moment, then cautiously pushed open the door and peered in. The witch was alternatively rubbing a tender spot on her head and glaring down at a book at her feet. The shelves behind her were crammed full of the inevitable books and scrolls and trinkets. Though any Association magi would have found the way they were stacked in a colorful chaotic blur disgusting.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
"Y-Yuusha-sama!" Her face turned ghastly pale before she found a sudden interest in the book at her feet. "Oh, I'm f-fine," she stammered out as she swept it up and hurriedly crammed it back onto a shelf. "I just haven't had time to organize for a while and I wasn't expecting any guests but, uh, um, it makes…" She coughed awkwardly into her fist and turned to him. "That is, ah… how may I assist you, Yuusha-sama?"
"I need information."
"From me—oh, right, from the court mage." Her chin tilted up a bit. "Then, ah, please take a seat while I make some tea."
The only table in sight was a large round one made of granite. Kiritsugu pulled up one of the two chairs and waited while the witch fussed among the alchemical glassware and clamps at the back. Soon a brown liquid bubbled in a conical flask held over a burner.
Keeping the witch in the corner of his eye, Kiritsugu let his gaze roam over the room. Books, laboratory tools, stone circles, and runes inscribed on the floor. Apparently a magus' workshop looked the same across worlds. Yet while there was a definite sense of power here, of unseen energies humming in the air, it lacked the oppressive weight Kiritsugu had grown accustomed to. No stench of old blood, no shadows flitting along the walls, only a faint whiff of ozone—
Ozone.
Kiritsugu whirled around just in time to see a mass of clouds rolling down the floor towards the table. Instinctively his fingers closed around the Contender before he remembered the futility of riddling mist vapor with holes. Maybe if he lured it out into the sun…
The clouds spun themselves into an amorphous humanoid figure, stormcover black in what passed for its torso and paling to rainy gray in wispy limbs. Tendril fingers set a saucer and cup down in front of him.
A familiar, then. Probably harmless, so long as its mistress' devotion to him held steady. Even so, he couldn't help but track its movements as it bustled about with a plate of cookies. The silver-gray mass, the alien intelligence, all reminded him uncomfortably of another creation.
"I'm sorry, I forgot to ask if you take honey with… Yuusha-sama?" He glanced up to find the witch approaching the table, holding the flask in an oven-mitt clad hand. "Is everything alright?"
"It's fine."
"Um… you keep staring at Currus." She rolled the r's like a cat's purr. "Is it the sparks? They took me a while to get used to."
Sure enough, a little flash of blue-white crackled through the apparition's shoulder.
"Like I said, it's fine," he repeated.
The skepticism was evident, but she let it go after a moment, to his relief. She gently tipped the topsoil-brown liquid into their cups, silent but for the caution in her every movement. She gave a little sigh of relief when the flask emptied, and carefully carried it into the back once again. The journey back would have been a smooth one had she not stubbed her toe on one of the desks, though she managed to blow it off with only a wince.
"I'm sorry that I don't have proper porcelain to serve you out of." She brought the tea to her lips with one hand and played with a strand of hair with the other. "I, um… it broke. A little while ago. Before you were summoned. And then it got so busy and everything else happened, I haven't had the time to get a new one, so—"
The witch bit her lip and paused. "Sorry. I'm… really clumsy. Though I'm sure you already noticed that, ahah."
It was undeniable. To say otherwise would only be insulting her.
"It wasn't always like that. Back when I…" Her fingers moved absently along her cup, expression lost in the distance. After a moment, it snapped back into a forced smile. "Well. Anyway. You didn't come here to hear me bleat on about how much I can't stop breaking everything—"
"You didn't break the flask," he pointed out, unable to help himself.
"Oh, um… yeah." Her eyes flicked to the side, but she didn't speak any further.
He really should have just moved on with that. He had important business to discuss with her, so why bother wasting precious moments in his schedule on idle talk like this?
"There's a lot of glass in here that isn't broken," he continued. "Looks fragile."
Another nod. Maybe this was a waste of time.
He sighed and took a sip. "So—"
"Marianne," she blurted out. "It was Marianne's."
He let the silence settle while she fidgeted with her cup, wrapping her hands around it. Leaning back in the chair, he waited for her to continue. It was something she needed to get off her chest.
"My… mentor." Her finger traced the ceramic rim. "Marianne Tsalizém. She… well, she helped me a lot after my parents passed away. Died."
"I'm sorry." Normally, that would be said as a matter of course. But there was some genuine feeling in his words this time.
"Thank you." In response, her smile was cutting in its insincerity. "I wouldn't have been… well, the King took care of me, so I wouldn't have had it all that bad, but… I think I would have been a lot less happy. I always had a knack for magic, you know? Child prodigy, you know how it is."
Kiritsugu nodded. Although strictly average or even deficient in magecraft ability, he had met his fair share of prodigies. They rarely ended well.
The smile turned sardonic. "So after they died, when I had nothing to do but join Solaire in her private tutoring and her adventuring around the grounds, she—Marianne, that is—picked me up. Said that I had some incredible potential. Made me…" The witch shivered. "M-made me feel like I was... worth something again."
She took another sip, collecting her thoughts on the rim. "This is her old lab. These are all her old things. We used to spend hours in here, days sometimes, just… playing with ideas and testing them out. She was so busy, but she always... always had time for me. She was so incredible and kind and…"
Familial. That was the word unspoken. Kiritsugu waited.
"So… when she… when she was k-killed." The witch gripped her knees tightly. "She left it all to me. All of her notes, all of her things, and, of course, her job. I could... pick up right where she left off."
Discomfort curdled in Kiritsugu's stomach. He forced it down and said nothing.
"I… feel so… pathetic." Her shoulders shook. "I… I was her student, I was supposed to be ready for this, and yet I keep… screwing up. All the time. And people keep saying 'it's okay', 'you're doing great', and…"
A sharp inhale. A drop of water fell on the table.
"The worst is when they say that she'd be p-proud of me. Because this is the b-best I can do. Someone as… stupid as me…"
She put her head in her hands. "I… I'm s-sorry," she gasped out between her sobs, "Y… you d-didn't… y-you wanted… sorry, I c-can't…"
Kiritsugu couldn't say anything. Words had always failed him. Averting his eyes from that crying face, he landed on a forgotten plate of cookies on the corner of the table. He picked up one of the chocolate-looking ones and awkwardly nudged it into her hand.
"Here," he said quietly. "Take your time."
Her laugh had an edge of hysteria in it, but she took it. After a moment, she used a napkin to wipe at her face and nibbled at the cookie. He leaned back in the chair and looked up at the ceiling, waiting until she had collected herself again.
"It's hard," he finally said. The statement felt beyond inadequate as to be near-useless. But the smile she gave him in return, brittle as it was, seemed a little healthier than her earlier one. She nodded and wiped at her eyes again.
"S-so…" She coughed and drew herself up again, trying to assemble her composure. "What can I help you with, Yuusha-sama?"
Against all Kiritsugu's experience, opening up to him seemed to have helped the witch a little. Unsure what to make of that, he seized on the lifeline offered.
"Do your people ever…" Kiritsugu searched for the right terminology. "Smoke herbs of some kind?"
After a moment, she nodded slowly. "Fina root, yes. Originally it was used to treat Carnen's Plague, but it became a recreational thing too. Would you like me to get you some?"
"Yes."
"Okay." She turned to face the mess that was the back room. "I'll have to dig through my stores, so I'll send it up to your quarters for you to try at your convenience."
"Thanks."
"Of course."
A small awkward silence. Kiritsugu took a breath. Right, the board. "When you first summoned me, you mentioned that the Demon Lord's castle… shifts."
"I haven't seen it in person, but that's one thing the legends and reports agree on." She raised her cup to her lips, but didn't take a sip yet. "I'm sorry I can't be of more help—"
"Can anything be done about them?" he interrupted before she could spiral again.
"Um…" The witch took a few moments to consider the question. "I… the Codex just says that the sage countered it with ancient magicks, but it doesn't specify how they worked. And the reports can't even agree on how exactly it works, so…"
"Anything you can think of." He looked to the back, trinkets and gadgets overflowing off of the shelves. "A cursed item, or some special Mystic Code."
"Mystic Code?" she asked. He winced.
"A type of artifact in my old world. Don't worry about it."
The witch hesitated for a moment. "If you say so..."
"Can you think of anything?" he repeated.
"I... not right now, no..." She shrunk in on herself, and he was readying to tell her that she could get back to him on that, but she did not stay that way. "Would you please give me some time to research? I... I promise I'll have something for you by the end of the week."
"That's fine," Kiritsugu replied.
She smiled. "Thank you. I won't let you down."
