Fate/Broken Order
Chapter 10
-Peace and Breaking Point-
⸨~ʘ~Ω~Ʊ~Ӝ~Ʊ~Ω~ʘ~⸩
Her vision blurred and it galled that it took a moment for Sylvia to realize it was because her eyes threatened to close without her approval. Not because she felt tired, or anything. But the weight on her mind felt real enough to serve as a nefarious substitute.
Sylvia groaned softly, shaking her head and giving her eyes a frustrated rub.
Even when trying to relax in her increasingly sparse free moments the woman could not escape that gods damned weight.
The weight of responsibility...
The weight of duty...
The weight of expectations...
Of the original Rayshift Monitoring Team as they were called, all had perished in Lev Lainur's explosive act of betrayal. All save for one.
Her. Sylvia Lavorre. The last woman standing who knew how to work the consoles, knew the programs, and knew how not to fuck up the most important part of the process next to the actual Rayshift itself.
Sending a soul to the past was doable with Chaldea's ludicrously advanced magi-tech. It was an incredibly intricate process, but at its most basic it boiled down simply on the surface.
Place a person with Rayshift Compatibility in a Coffin, where their body will rest in suspended animation while their Soul is converted to Spiritron Particles and their Soul was then "projected" into the past.
But the most important, the absolutely most vital part was what the Monitoring Team was responsible for.
A Soul sent to the past was, fundamentally, not supposed to be there. As such, the Counter Force that naturally regulated the World could threaten to "correct" this anomaly. So to maintain the Soul's continued presence, the Rayshifted individual's Existence needed to be reaffirmed and reinforced from Chaldea's end, lest that Soul be under threat of erasure.
Singularity F had been highly irregular. Due to all the chaos happening, von Grimm, Kelley, and that extra Fujimaru had been Rayshifted in their corporeal entirety, which should go without saying was beyond dangerous. And in Sylvia's professional opinion it was a fucking miracle that anyone had returned from the trip at all.
Though, she did have to admit that whatever sweet hell Vivaldia von Grimm had pulled to save Director Animusphere was as incredible and ingenious as it was mindbogglingly insane.
Sylvia had heard some rumors back at Clock Tower that the last surviving member of the von Grimm Bloodline was, to be charitable, a Magus lacking in both ambition and drive. Well fuck that, because apparently the woman was a prodigy of monstrous proportions!
Reinforcing a Soul to manifest it as if it were corporeal? And make it seemingly perpetual and self-sustaining? Utter insanity! Yet somehow the von Grimm heir had done it. The feat almost killed them, sure, but that didn't take away from the sheer impossibility of the act itself!
And now the Director was back in their midst, even if in literal spirit in this case.
Sylvia shook her head. Dammit, her mind was going on a tangent...
The original line of thought of hers was: now that the rest of the Monitoring Team was dead, it fell on Sylvia's shoulders to teach a bunch of newbies to fill the positions. And the last few days had not filled her with confidence.
The job of a member of the Monitoring Crew was essential for operations. Everyone on the Team had to know what they were doing because the smallest mistake could easily snowball into an absolute disaster. So either everyone was on the ball, or...
Sylvia fought back an agitated twitch of her eyelid.
Of the people she had to work with, there was the making of a skeleton crew, if nothing else. Dr. Archaman already knew the both the hardware and software, so he could easily take over some of the burden when he wasn't needed for medical emergencies. Meuniere had also tangential knowledge of the system's workings, so he was adapting well enough.
Aside from those two bright spots, Sylvia was just filled with frustration.
None of the others she was supposed to teach were picking things up at a preferable pace. Which, fine, the system was complex and intricate. But they were on a god damn timetable here! And the worst (offenders)time-sinks were—shocking!—the damn non-Mages she was forced to babysit through every little thing!
It was one thing to teach a Mage the intricacies of the Spiritron Drive, but to have to degrade herself and dumb it down to a non-Mage! The indignity! She was a student of the prodigious Clock Tower! She shouldn't need to deal with the riffraff, but no! It was 'extenuating circumstance', and 'the fate of all Humanity lay in the balance', so she couldn't even entertain saying no!
On some level Sylvia knew she was letting her prejudice as a Magus get the better of her in this case. But the whole situation was just compounding on something else to make it all the worse. A fourth kind of weight pushing her to what she felt was spiritual exhaustion.
The weight of guilt...
Sylvia felt a growl fail to build steam in the back of her all-too tight throat.
It was luck that she had survived the bombing, but it hadn't been a coincidence that she was out of the Monitoring Station during the time of the explosion. She wasn't late to her shift. She wasn't conveniently in the bathroom at the time.
No. Those reasons would have been too acceptable.
The real reason Sylvia wasn't at her work station that day...was because she had decided to sleep-in. She had made a conscious choice to shirk her duties, just because she couldn't be bothered that particular morning!
Then the explosions happened and the warning sirens made her choice irrelevant because even she could not ignore that.
So here she was. Sylvia Lavorre, heiress of the Lavorre bloodline. Survivor of the Chaldea Bombing by sheer apathetic laziness.
A stain on her name! Utterly irresponsible!
It was unforgivable that she got to live out of selfishness when everyone else was-
Sylvia growled as she slammed shut the book she had been trying to read for almost half-an-hour now. And failing. Her mind just refused to focus, letters turning into indistinct shapes the longer she tried to decipher them. What amounted to her conscience kept drudging up every single flaw in her person. Whispering at her, nagging about how she had failed. How she was undeserving of her existence where someone else should have stood. She had almost convinced herself that the only reason she wasn't being punished was because she was currently indispensable.
Utterly irrational. Sylvia knew she couldn't really blame herself for anything. At best she had just been a selfish bitch on what should have been a regular workday. But what she was pretty certain to be Survivor's Guilt didn't particularly care what she 'knew'.
Sylvia loathed that a part of her wanted to just cry a bit, but that would have gotten rid of the make-up masking the ugly dark marks she had developed beneath her eyes due to being unable to sleep. Besides, crying wouldn't be conductive to the critical duty the Director herself had given her. She expected results. It was not an option to not deliver.
And as if a top to this shitty cake that was her life right now, she was starting to get really pent up, and the mounting stress really wasn't helping. Sure, she could use her private time to scratch that particular itch, but there was a limit to what she could do on her own. But what other option was there?
Ask someone to share her bed for a bit? Yeah, right! As if she would bare herself to one of her coworkers(the few that remained, anyway) who could gossip to damn near anyone about her "deviant" tastes. She wasn't ashamed or anything dumb like that, but damn it all if the pool of candidates wasn't shallow and terrible.
In a way, that might be part of why she could never bring herself to like Gillian Kelley. As far as Mages went, the girl was alright. She had a long lineage and tangible talent and potential. But what really ground her gears was how...open the young woman was when it came toher...tastes. That shamelessness...that confidence...
Sylvia didn't have that. And it annoyed her to see a(very loud) reminder of that fact.
Maybe it was because her mind was drawing a blank. Or maybe her stress was heightening her senses to compensate. But Sylvia's ears registered a light sound. Close to imperceptible, if not for how quiet the library was.
A page turning. From a source other than herself.
Sylvia frowned. Hadn't she been the only person in here?
Now a bit more alert of her surroundings, the Magus looked around. And in a corner seat placed between two bookshelves she saw a sight that took her a moment to identify. A woman on the tall side, with incredibly long violet hair. Eyes not covered as they usually were, but bearing a pair of delicate looking glasses. Sylvia managed to identify them as a Mystic Code of some kind.
One of that brat Fujimaru's Servants. It took a bit longer for Sylvia to recall her recorded profile. Wasn't she Greek or something? And normally wore a blindfold? Medusa? Yes, that sounded right.
Currently she seemed to be simply reading in solitude. Sylvia willingly ignored how familiar that felt.
Maybe it was because it was the first thing to break her frustrating attempt to relax. Maybe it was simply her reaching the end of her proverbial rope. Or maybe she was just that frustrated.
In that moment, Sylvia Lavorre had an idea.
A moment later her reason took the reigns again. She shook her head. What was she thinking? The idea was ridiculous. That was Fujimaru's Servant! They undoubtedly had a mental connection, and even Sylvia gave that brat enough credit to be at least aware of it. Free to learn her secrets as reported by one of his Servants...
...Then again. Fujimaru had given her the impression of being a wet blanket and a sickeningly nice guy. She doubted he'd have the balls to actually try anything nefarious.
She eyed the Rider in the corner still reading serenely, as she contemplated. It should be fine, right? She would just be asking for a little help to relax. It was just a Ghost Liner. It didn't really mean anything. Right?
A few moments of consideration. And then something desperate in Sylvia gave in.
Sylvia placed the book on nearby table and stood. Then she walked with frustrated purpose.
⸨~ʘ~Ω~Ʊ~Ӝ~Ʊ~Ω~ʘ~))
The bustle of Chaldea's cafeteria was what you would expect. Relatively quiet, if only just because the drastic decrease in personnel left plenty of open space. Which was, obviously, quite depressing to dwell on.
But nowadays, the Servants of the Four Masters of Chaldea certainly tried their utmost to dispel that heavy air.
"-and it was so that I finally earned my place besides my brothers at the Round Table!" Gareth finished her grand telling of her humble origins as a young(er) squire with a wide smile on her face. "Gawain was so proud, he almost broke a few of my ribs with a hug, forgetting it was high noon at the time."
Sasaki, after finishing a long sip of his tea, commented on the telling, "Truly, a tale for the ages. A fitting beginning for one of Britain's finest."
"...Huh, I actually remember that," Artoria muttered, mostly to herself. "Gawain bowed down so hard and fast in apology, I could have sworn he shattered the stone beneath his brow."
Gareth let out a wild gasp. "You would recall such a minute moment? I'm so honored, my King! I'll never forget this feeling!"
Artoria closed her eyes and released a frustrated breath. "I've already told you, Ser Gareth, you don't need to stand such ceremony. King of Knights I may be, but here in Chaldea I would prefer we exist as equals. Our ranks while still living have little bearing here."
"But my King, I couldn't!" Gareth yelled, aghast at the concept. "I'm a Knight of the Round, your Knight, a fact I'm immensely proud of! To denounce your grand position so...so...flagrantly would just be wrong!"
Artoria merely stared at her overzealous knight with a dead expression as a thought crossed her mind. "...I feel I am starting to see why I have such an insufferable time with people just telling me 'no'."
"You just now figured that out?" Emiya piped up as he placed a plate of curry rice before the Saber, and a healthy salad was passed to the young knight.
"Well it's not an immediately obvious thing!" Artoria countered heatedly.
"To you, maybe."
Artoria glared murder at Emiya. Even as she began passively shoveling the food to her mouth. "You're lucky you make incredible cuisine."
Gareth, who had observed this interaction with an inquisitive gaze, gave her liege a curious look. "My King, is this man your new consort?"
Artoria started choking on her rice. Sasaki, ever so briefly and with perfectly controlled subtlety, inhaled a bit of his tea.
Cu, a few tables over, had no such restraint, bursting into rancorous laughter.
Emiya responded with a subdued but annoyed, "No."
"With Archer?! I would never!" Artoria, gathering her bearing after avoiding asphyxiation, exclaimed with disgusted fervor. "He tried to kill my boy!"
"Archer tried to kill Ser Mordred?" Gareth asked with the kind of surprised innocence only she could.
…
"...Oh...yeah..." Artoria muttered haltingly. "Mordred exists..."
"Truly, you are the parent of the year," Emiya snarked with all the sarcasm in his system.
"...Oh my God." Artoria's face grew stricken as her mind realized something quite...unpleasant. "Am I...a bad parent?"
Emiya gave the Saber a the flattest look he could, while Gareth just seemed confused.
"You really want me to answer that?" The Archer asked, following it up with a far too cheerful, "Because I absolutely will! Yes! You, Artoria Pendragon, are quite possibly the worst parent I've ever come across! And that is a looooong list."
"What- but- I- surely I'm not as bad as Kiritsugu!"
"Kiritsugu Emiya saved my life and gave me a reason to live," Archer shot back. "Now, granted, that reason led to an absolutely miserable existence that I came to vilify from the deepest depths of my soul, but that was mostly that young, naive idiot's fault."
"He literally abandoned his daughter!" Artoria responded heatedly, food for once forgotten. "And then left her alone in a hostile environment until she came back as a mentally maladjusted pint-sized murder machine! Or did you forget that?"
Emiya opened his mouth...before deciding otherwise. "Alright, that's...a fair point. Illya deserved better."
"So did Irisviel..." Artoria muttered darkly.
Archer raised a brow. "Who?"
"Exactly!" Artoria yelled out in outrage.
Gareth looked between two somewhat nervously. "You're...strangely invested in this, My King. Are you...alright?"
Artoria took a moment before answering, releasing a deep sigh. "Apologies, Ser Gareth. Just...unpleasant memories of a past Grail War. About guns. And bombs. And treachery..."
The young Knight of the Round tilted her head to the side in puzzlement. "I thought this wasn't about Ser Mordred?"
"It's not," Emiya and Artoria said in tandem. "Well...not...entirely," Artoria added, albeit sounding like the mere suggestion was akin to pulling barb wire from her throat.
"Your 'king' has just now realized how badly she's messed up in the past," Emiya remarked.
"I stalwartly refuse the notion that I'm a worse parent than Kiritsugu Emiya!" Artoria snapped, still not quite done being incensed.
Gareth, to be blunt, was quite puzzled by Her King's strange behavior, but could not find it in herself to find any true fault in it.
She was Her King, after all!
Sasaki, to his credit, realized this was a hornet's nest best left undisturbed.
And then Cu started needling both of them, and peace was abandoned as an option.
…
Meanwhile, at another table...
"I still can't believe how lucky I am," Gillian sighed contently, still feeling a kind of elation that could not be put into words. "Miracles are real, and I'm living one."
"Ye'r sure in a good way, chief!" Blackbeard noted with a pat on his Master's back. "And gotta say, I understand." Even as he was saying it, his eyes were not-so subtly eyeing his new team mate up and down. He gave a whistle. "Miracles indeed!"
"It's not just about being sexy as all get out, Teach!" Gillian gently, bur firmly corrected, as if lecturing a student, growing more passionate as she went on. "It's about the character! The drive! The will to set out on a single-minded crusade until you fulfill your goals by any means necessary! Those things are far more attractive than a pretty face, shapely body, or a nice rack!"
"Shit, I thought you were just gonna preach nonsense, but I think I kind of get it!" Blackbeard exclaimed in realization. "Like a pirate hunting for booty ain't no true pirate if they focus on the reward and don't relish in the freedom!" Of course, being Blackbeard, he almost immediately had to ruin his own point by saying, "Still, you gotta wonder. What kind of ass is that dress hiding? The mystery is so enchanting!"
"Okay, first of, rude!" Gillian chided. Only to ruin it by adding, "And besides, what about it? It's the chest where the good stuff is at!"
"Tch," Teach scoffed in mock disdain. "And I thought you were based. Fucking normie."
"Excuse you! I'm a woman of culture!" Gillian countered with fervor. "There is nothing wrong with appreciating the glorious bosom all women-" she rushed to correct"-most women are blessed with! The classics will not be denied and she has a damn fine set, you god damn philistine!"
"Please do not talk so obscenely of my person when I am right here," the one in question remarked in a very un-Berserker-like calm.
In fact, Kriemhild seemed like a solitary island of peace in the middle of two rapid typhoons that were Gillian and Blackbeard. And the sheer absurd irony of that was not lost on anyone who could witness(and hear, the two were not quiet) the scene.
Still, Berserkers were unpredictable as a rule of thumb, so despite appearances the whole thing was nerve-wracking. It was with good cause that most of the servants were passively paying mind to the trio's area.
Just in case...
"Aww, come on Hildy-"
"Do not call me that!" Kriemhild seethed, as did the handle of the teacup she'd been holding(luckily nothing spilled), the sudden fraying of her previous calm putting more than a few people(Blackbeard included, he was a pervert, not stupid) on edge.
"Nope," Gillian, the utter madwoman, flippantly denied her and kept lecturing as if a sage imparting their worldly wisdom. "Hildy, mah gurl, you gotta understand. It's not just base objectification. It's appreciation for the aesthetic, all that is womanly glory! To bear witness to greatness and make it known as such!"
The Servant in black narrowed her eyes in a harsh glare. "So, you are using fancy words and manipulative rhetoric to justify your deviant perversions?"
"Pretty much, yeah," the young lady admitted with a smile and not even a hint of shame.
Kriemhild boggled, seemingly unable to immediately process a reply to such a direct response. Blackbeard just guffawed a proud laugh, "Ha! That's my Master alright. Put 'er there!"
An almost reflexive high-five later, the Berserker shook her head with a deep sigh.
"Quite the Master I've been saddled with, it seems," Kriemhild mused, her calm seemingly returned for the moment. She grasped her teacup with both hands, minding the broken handle. "I will let your vulgarity slide, this time. Just mind yourself in the future, or my blade will cleave you apart in vengeance."
"Aww, thanks! Glad to work with someone as awesome as you, Hildy!" Gillian crooned, leaning her chin on her palm, smiling serenely with her eyes closed. "But we got a job to do, and the vengeance comes later..."
The dark turn in tone was so sudden, yet so profoundly disturbing that Blackbeard actually inched away from his bestie, and any who heard it shivered a bit.
Kriemhild gave a grim, empty-eyed smile.
"Oh," she spoke in a neutral tone. "So that is why." The woman in black nodded solemnly as she took a sip of her tea. "Now it makes sense to me..."
…
Meanwhile, on a yet another table...things were remarkably unremarkable.
Seeing some of the other "Teams", Carmilla was glad that hers composed of just herself and her Master, both very reserved individuals. It was nice and quiet at their table.
Perhaps a bit too quiet by her reckoning.
The Countess eyed the tall woman beside her with a discerning intensity. Aldia herself seemed to be stuck in her own head, pondering whatever it was that kept her so distracted.
Ritsuka and Mash, both sharing the table to build bonds or something or other, also seemed to have clued in on the woman's behavior. Which, considering how obtuse Aldia was at her most expressive just made it all the more odd in Carmilla's eyes.
Now, that wouldn't have gotten on her nerves, except that no one was saying anything!
Of course. She has to be the one. Typical.
"Alright, I'm sick of this." It showed. She used, gasp, a contraction in public! Like a commoner! Carmilla glared at her Master. "What is with you today? You've been acting strange since yesterday."
The tall woman's lone eye blinked as she seemed to snap back into the moment. "Oh...have I?"
"Do not make me repeat myself," Carmilla warned. "Now. Talk! What is churning in that head of yours to capture your attention so thoroughly?"
Aldia's even gaze lingered for a moment, before turning to the duo on the opposite side of the table in an unspoken question.
Mash smiled a bit awkwardly. "You have been a bit distant, Aldia-senpai."
"More than usual, we mean," Ritsuka added with a hint of worry. "You doing okay?"
The woman just blinked in response, but Carmilla could see the slight widening of the eye. She was surprised they'd picked up on it. It was depressing in a way, to be so isolated that people caring came as a surprise.
It absolutely did not feel personal.
Aldia seemed to take a moment to prepare, before she spoke, "I was just...introspecting, I guess. Our talk yesterday made me look back on some things. Made me...realize some stuff. So I've been kinda mulling things over."
The three observed her for a long moment. Something that took a bit to register for the observed party.
Aldia tilted her head slightly. "Wait. You wanted me to continue?"
Carmilla closed her eyes in silent frustration. For all her good sides, her Master could be incredibly thick when it came to social matters.
"I mean, you don't have to," Ritsuka stated, smiling patiently. "But I think, maybe talking about it could help? That is, if it's not too private."
"I mean, it's not. Not really, I think." Aldia hummed. "Okay. Remember when we talked about the A-Team?"
Mash and Ritsuka nodded. Carmilla was glad to fade into the background as an observer. Mash leaned in a bit, curious. "Is this about Hinako-senpai?"
Ah, yes. The one previously closest to her Master, Carmilla recalled. Her Master confirmed with a nod.
"Talking about it got me thinking, and I...some stuff just clicked together." The other Master and Shielder leaned further in, intrigued of the revelation. "I think...I might have started to grow a crush on her. Or something."
Carmilla blinked. Had she heard that right? By their wide eyes and open mouths, Ritsuka and Mash had similar, if more blown out reactions. And was that...Carmilla's own eyes took a moment to confirm before also widening just a bit.
Was Aldia...blushing?!
"...Really?" Mash was the first to ask. She seemed...oddly immersed in the question. "You mean like...like-like?"
Carmilla frowned at the Shielder. Like-like? What was this, a pre-school? How sheltered was this girl?
"I mean...essentially," Aldia confirmed. If she was embarrassed her voice betrayed little. "I'm not a big emotions person. Obviously. I just sort of...figured it out when I really thought about it. In retrospect." She averted her eyes, looking at the blank surface of the table. "About how I enjoyed the times we spent together. The books we shared, that we talked about. The quiet moments, just being there. Alone...together..."
For a moment she seemed to be back in her own head, before clearing her throat and refocusing herself. "I mean...yeah."
Smooth, Carmilla couldn't help by snark without actually saying anything.
"A most fascinating récit, my Maîtresse!"
Carmilla stilled entirely. The voice was different, but the feeling...
The Countess forced her eyes to look behind Mash and Ritsuka, both of whom also felt the palpable shift in atmosphere. They also turned to look at the pale-haired, black-white dressed gothic lolita just...standing there, offering a cutesy smile and a curtsy at being acknowledged.
The smile looked false and sinister. Carmilla felt cold looking at it.
"Caster," Aldia responded in a clipped tone.
"Please. Francesca will do." The pale girl was unfailingly and polite in tone and mannerism. It only furthered how wrong it felt. "May I be seated?"
Carmilla did her damnedest to maintain a collected presence, schooling her posture and features. But under the table, her tightly clasped hands shook ever so slightly where the rest of her was denied such an act of weakness.
She felt a nudge on her leg. An eye trailed to the tall woman by her side, one leg nudging her own. A subtle gesture of comfort and reassurance.
Aldia herself did not split her focus from the female Prelati. "...You may." She sent two looks to both Ritsuka and Mash, along with a single stern nod. Catching the silent message, the two rose and walked off to give them privacy.
Francoise Prelati tittered. It made Carmilla feel nauseous hearing it. "How considerate, mon maîtresse." She seated herself opposite to the Master-Servant duo, laying her petite hands on the table, fingers interconnected whimsically. "I feel it proper we have a little chat."
"Speak," Aldia ordered, having no patience for Prelati's nonsense.
"As I shall," Francois stated with a smile that, for once, seemed genuinely rueful. "I would like to offer an apology."
Aldia blinked expressionlessly, inclining her head, signaling the feminine half of Caster to continue. To Carmilla's quiet terror(not that she'd ever admit to it), those twisted eyes landed on her person. The Caster's hands slowly unclasped...and one went to rest on her petite chest as she bowed, breaking eye-contact by closing her eyes.
Carmilla would never admit what that momentary relief did to her nerves.
"I, Francesca Prelati, do solemnly offer my apologies on behalf of my Other, who I believe is less than remorseful for their actions and would never offer one of their own volition." One of her eyes opened and was looking to the side with an all too pleased mischievous smile.
Following that look, the Master and Assassin could spot the male Prelati, at the far side of the cafeteria entrance, skulking in the doorway with his arms crossed and looking quite annoyed and displeased with the situation. At the sly look from his female counterpart, the young-looking aristocrat sneered, pulled down one of his eyelids and stuck out his tongue.
Witnessing such a childish display...actually made Carmilla feel more at ease. As if an image ingrained in her head was just tarnished. But, like, in a good way?
"Honestly, at times it brings shame to me that I ever was quite like that in my original lifetime," Francesca admitted with a flippant spin of one hand. "Then again, I suppose that is exactly the root cause of this little...mal de tête ."
Oh yes. A 'headache'. That's what this thing was. Carmilla had regained enough of her composure to glare at the petite woman. "And what might you mean by that?"
"It's simple, really," Francesca raised a hand, finger pointing upwards as if to make a point. "My male Self is the True Heroic Spirit, meaning their memories and experiences ought to begin and end with my first 'life' and 'death'. And while we were initially merged, allowing for some blending of memories, my Other lacks, shall we say, my development."
The petite lady giggled at the an ironic, perverse joke at the expense of her own lack of 'development'.
"Jokes aside. The truth of the matter is, my Original Self has only their twisted male perspective, while I on the other hand have walked on the both sides of the fence more than enough to gain certain...perspective." Her head tilted as she opened her eyes, an easygoing smile on her lips. "Now, that doesn't change the fact that, once upon a time, I did do what I did. But from my perspective that was a loooong~ time ago, and I've matured past such meaningless petty cruelties."
For some reason, Carmilla didn't quite believe that statement. To her relief, through their link, she felt that Aldia didn't either.
"But the bottom line is this:" Francisca interlocked her hands once more, eyes focused and expression for once properly schooled "I fully recognize how much we are au fond de la merde. As truly monstrous as I may be even to this day, let it not be said I don't have priorities.
"I recognize our need for cohesion, and the the value of teamwork in the face of absolute destruction of Humanity. Which I might remind you, unless you want to become painfully technical about it, I am still part of. Personally—and I cannot speak for my Other who has no such urgency—but I have no need for disruptive personal conflicts when my continued existence is on the line."
The petite woman closed her eyes and lowered her head. "So there you have it. It is up to you to accept or refuse my apology, Elizabeth. But I have made my stance clear."
The use of that name...it irked Carmilla. She still correlated it to her unbearable younger self on an instinctive level. But...she could recognize the gesture for what it was. An olive branch, no matter how rotten the hand holding it might be.
'It's your call to make,' Aldia spoke through their connection. 'She might have a point there. But I'll defer to your choice.'
Carmilla...actually felt touched by the reassurance. She'd not be caught dead admitting to it.
A sigh left her as she looked down on the wretched creature offering peace between them. For once wearing a serious countenance. No masks. No fronts. Absolutely no signs of gleeful, cruel deception.
"...Fine," Carmilla reluctantly hissed through her teeth. "But you better-"
"Ah, Aldia!" The Countess immediately glared at who dared interrupt her, meeting eyes with a nervous and apologetic Ritsuka, with Mash trailing behind as was the norm usually. "Sorry, just- there's been a thing. Medusa just now- um..."
"If you are going to have the gall to interrupt me, then cease your stuttering and be done with it!" Carmilla snapped.
The young man didn't seem so much intimidated as he did embarrassed. With a nervous gulp Ritsuka approached the tall woman and leaned in to whisper something into her ear. The boy made sure to be very quiet and smartly hid his mouth just in case anyone observing could lip-read. A valiant effort at secrecy
Unfortunately, Carmilla had keen hearing as a Servant. Her expression twisted a tad queerly, whereas her Master's eye widened noticeably in surprise.
Though it seemed that someone else also had sharp senses, as Francesca Prelati adopted an impish, perverse grin.
"...oh mon dieu~!"
She already hated this truce. She truly did.
⸨~ʘ~Ω~Ʊ~Ӝ~Ʊ~Ω~ʘ~))
Olga-Marie groaned into her hand as her fingers massaged her brows. Up until now things seemed to be going so well. Not great, but not terrible either. A voice in the back of her mind told her not to show weakness like this.
Another part, the part that acknowledged the woman sitting before her desk, told that part to stuff it.
Sylvia was seated before the Director, and it was not a sight Marie would have ever expected of the Lavorre heiress. Shoulders hunched, body curled into itself, head bent down as to avoid even the chance of direct eye contact. Her usually well-kept blonde hair was a tangled mess, and her uniform looked like it was put on with only the barest care for presentability. Her entire demeanor screamed of internal shame.
And then there was her face. Even with an attempt to hide behind her hair, it was obvious that her eyes were tired with noticeable dark rings under the eyelids, no longer hidden under layers of foundation and make-up. The eyes themselves were perceptibly reddened, the surrounding area darkened by smudged remnants of mascara, eye-liner.
She looked exhausted. Tired. Almost broken.
Honestly, it was a pathetic sight. But Marie's(admittedly challenged) empathy stopped her from making a point of it.
Along with them in the room were Hoover, as they were her chief assistant and right hand, as well as Ritsuka's Rider, Medusa in what appeared to be rather plain casual wear. A black turtleneck, jeans and glasses. And wasn't that a surprise, to find the Monster of the Shapeless Isles standing tall and composed by the slumped form of Sylvia. The contrast could not be more stark.
But that tidbit aside, Director Olga-Marie now had the "pleasure" of addressing the elephant in the room.
The information on what exactly transpired came mostly from Medusa. The most any of them had managed to get out of Sylvia were hums, grunts, and quiet single-word responses. That was how she consented to Medusa even saying anything, though even then it seemed to be out of abject misery than anything else.
As Medusa told it, Sylvia had approached her with a request to help relieve...stress. Marie had immediately ordered as we few unnecessary details as possible. Medusa had at that point asked her Master, quote: "if [she] could render assistance to one of the staff", end quote. The Rider's skill at subtlety and discretion was much appreciated.
Olga-Marie honestly didn't particularly care what her people did on their private time, as long as it did not disrupt or hinder Chaldea's activities or mission statement. She also very much did not care about which way the Lavorre heiress swung, despite same-sex relations being a bit of a taboo in Mage society. Importance of bloodlines and all that. But she was very happy to not hear about any of it.
Unfortunately, today it seemed like she had to, no matter her own wants otherwise.
Anyway, at some point while in...in the act, Sylvia had, by Medusa's own account, suffered a severe stress-induced mental breakdown. Panic attack, frantic crying, hyperventilation, screaming, the works.
The Rider, by her own admission, had done her best to calm her down, but at some point realized she wasn't good for this on her own. So she had reluctantly contacted her Master, whom in turn discreetly contacted Aldia(a smart move all things considered), whom had gone to pick up Sylvia and dragged her to Dr. Archaman's office. A bit blunt in execution, but it got the job done.
A round of sedatives and some time later Marie herself was informed of the bare details of the situation. Which, currently, had lead up to Sylvia Lavorre(accompanied by Medusa) to be in her office so she could get the full picture of what led to this.
The young Director did not like the picture that was painted to her.
'How did I miss this?' she asked herself. The signs were there, if she'd bothered to pay attention! Clearly she'd placed too great of a burden on a single woman. She knew how it felt very intimately. So she should have foreseen this!
But she had to steel herself. No time to wallow in self-pity just yet.
"Ms. Lavorre...Sylvia," The Director started, as gently as she could while still projecting the necessary authority while looking at the woman before her. "I need to know. Did you, or did you not, exaggerate or misrepresent the progress of the replacement Monitoring Team to please me?"
…
For a moment oppressive stillness ruled her office. Then...
"...Meuniere is doing well," escaped the ragged woman's lips in a voice akin to a whimper. In that moment, at those words(the most she'd said since entering), her very being almost seemed to collapse into itself from shame. When Medusa placed a gentle hand on her shoulder in a clear attempt at comfort Sylvia flinched at the gesture, but simply lacked the will to shrug it off.
Marie's face tightened. She could hear what went unsaid with those words. Her head lowered into a ready, open hand, and under her breath she muttered the quietest, "Fuck."
Her subordinate, the last survivor of a mission critical crew, had been over-working herself into a mental breakdown, all to fill that massive gap and to live up to an unreasonably challenging standard she, the Director, had herself set. And Marie fucking missed it!
'Assassin,' Marie damn near pleaded through their connection, 'please, tell me how to handle this?'
Behind her, to her right, Hoover had been listening to all that had transpired. And they had spent that time thinking exactly that. The answer came swiftly.
"It seems I carry some blame for this event," they stated in a clear, but remorseful tone. Marie's head snapped to her Servant in shock. The androgynous Assassin removed their fedora and rested it on their chest. "I used to run an organization full of people who were up to whatever task was demanded of them, regardless of the time and circumstance. In assuming this to be true still and falling into old habit, I erred in my judgment, and so allowed my guidance to lead another astray. And for that slip-up, I apologize to you, Miss Lavorre."
The woman did not react. At least not in an obvious manner. A slight curling inwards. But the Assassin continued.
"I would need to push myself a bit, but I think Chaldea's mana generators are up to the task," Hoover said. "I'll personally learn how to conduct the duties of the Monitoring Team and utilize my Noble Phantasm to bolster the missing ranks until such a time that they can be properly filled." The First Director of the FBI shot Marie a confident grin. "If nothing else, I'm certain of my capability to memorize information and multi-task."
Olga-Marie looked at her Servant with just the tiniest hint of awe. The Assassin had come up with a simple solution to the issue that seemed so obvious. Soon the awe was marred by personal inadequacy, since she didn't think of it herself.
'Of course, this would mean that I'd have to remain in Chaldea once the Singularity is located,' Hoover noted privately.
...Dammit. That was actually a bit annoying. Now that she was capable of Rayshifting and was a proper Master, Marie was dedicated to taking on a more active role in tackling the Singularities. And with Assassin having to remain behind to handle things at Chaldea...that put a damper on those plans.
Again, the solution was a simple one. It just couldn't be helped.
Shelving that thought for a moment, Marie focused on Sylvia once more. No time to wallow. It was time to do her job.
"In that case, as of this moment, Sylvia Lavorre is to be placed on enforced leave for at bare minimum two days."
That finally got a reaction, as Sylvia's head snapped up, eyes wide. Desperate. "What...? No. Director, I can still-!"
"That was an order!" Marie snapped severely. But her eyes remained soft and understanding. "You will serve no one, much less Chaldea or yourself, in this state. So, you will take at least two days to rest and recuperate. I will also have you go to Dr. Romani for some mental counseling sessions."
The man might be unbearably casual and lazy but he took health, physical and mental, very seriously.
Realizing that she was in no position to refuse, Sylvia just lowered her head once more with a muted, "Yes, ma'am."
Not an optimal response but Marie nodded in satisfaction regardless. She turned to the still silent and mindful Medusa. "Since you're so embroiled in this mess already, might I ask you to keep an eye on Ms. Lavorre for the immediate future?"
The Rider nodded. "I've already informed my Master, and have his permission."
Somehow Marie doubted Fujimaru had been anywhere near that authoritative. She let the matter slide.
"Then please, see her to her quarters," the Director ordered, eyeing Sylvia. "And I truly expect you to rest as ordered. Absolutely no efforts to work yourself until the two day minimum. Am I clear?"
Sylvia, looking both defeated and shamed, could only nod weakly.
"In that case, you're dismissed."
After a moment Sylvia rose slowly and, still with her head down, started meandering out of the office, Medusa following close by. When it seemed like the female Magus seemed to falter in her step the Rider was swift and delicate in assisting her.
After the door closed Marie slammed her head onto her desk. "Uuuurgh! Dammit all..."
"An unfortunate turn of events, yes," Hoover agreed, much more collected. "But not insurmountable. This has been enlightening, so it's not a total loss. I'll be sure to alter my thinking going forward."
"I should have seen it..." Marie moaned into her desk.
"No leader is perfect," the Assassin said. "And you're still young and relatively inexperienced. Be done with the pity party and take this as the learning experience it is."
Olga-Marie sat straight and took a deep calming breath. "Right...right. I will."
"Good," her Servant nodded. Hoover then gestured at the Director herself. "Since you're so adamant to take part in the next Singularity, and now lack my presence on that mission, I can predict what the next step is. The question is, how are you adapting to Miss da Vinci's solution to your...particular problem?"
Marie frowned, searching for the words to explain, even as she cupped her hands in front of her chest. Which started to emanate a soft glow.
There was one snag to her plan to enter the Singularity once it was found. As it stood she was now a fully spiritual body, a Servant in everything but name and power. Which meant that there would be no physical form left behind to anchor her to Chaldea. The chances of her soul being erased by the process was too high without something to confirm her existence in the present.
Then da Vinci, in her usual fashion, came up with a wild, insane idea. One just crazy enough to work.
After the glow died down Marie was holding the Holy Grail recovered from the Fuyuki Singularity in her hands.
"It's...strange," Marie tried to explain. "I feel...more full. More solid, sturdy. Not exactly powerful, but...more somehow. It's a strange feeling, but not bad." Her eyes narrowed as they trailed over to her bosom. "Could do without the constant sensation of tightness in the chest though."
"A small nuisance, but it doesn't sound like it's rejecting you. So that's good," Hoover mused. "Personally, much of da Vinci's Magi technobabble flies over my head still, and I could do without all the ego, but I do trust her judgment."
"Yeah, so do I," Marie agreed. "I just hope it works as estimated and holds me together."
"We all do."
Marie squirmed a bit in her seat. She still wasn't used to such...sincere comments. She was more used to token praise or thinly veiled backhanded compliments.
"...Thanks." She absolutely wasn't blushing when she focused and returned the Grail within herself. Afterwards she winced. Why did it feel so damn tight?! It wasn't like it was actually occupying any physical space!
Still. Olga-Marie Animusphere stood up with purpose.
With her Assassin now occupied for a time and unavailable for any missions for the foreseeable future, it was obvious what she needed to do.
⸨~ʘ~Ω~Ʊ~Ӝ~Ʊ~Ω~ʘ~))
"WHAT THE HELL IS WITH ALL THESE IRREGULAR SUMMONS?!"
"I DON'T KNOW, FIGURE IT OUT!" Olga-Marie screamed in response to Roman's own panic, being held up by Mash in the chaos.
The summoning ritual had started normally, but something had caused in incredibly potent Mana surge which was currently causing a powerful force to go on a rampage inside the Summoning Chamber. Nothing was being outwardly damaged, thankfully, but it still felt like standing in an omnidirectional wind tunnel.
Their hardware was going utterly crazy though, taking a lot of effort(read: flailing) for Roman to make sense of any of the wild fluctuations in the readings displayed.
First Ritsuka's chain summoning on his first attempt, then Aldia's aberrant summoning of the technically still living Prelati(many questions about that one), and now...whatever the hell this nonsense was!
"Oh! I think I figured it out!" da Vinci hollered from her own station, handling this far better than them measly mortals.
"DA VINCI, EXPLAIN! NOW!" the Director yelled over the noise generated by the ritual going haywire.
"Well, you see," the famed artist/inventor said with her usual flair, "it seems that the ritual itself is resonating with the Grail within you, amplifying the ritual's power and effecting it...in some manner."
"DON'T JUST END THAT ANALYSIS SO FLIPPANTLY AND FIX THIS!" Marie raged while thrashing about in Mash's grip.
"Please calm yourself, Director!" Mash pleaded with the irate woman.
Instead of acknowledging the scene, the Caster counted down with her fingers. "Ritual reaching conclusion in 3...2...1..."
Finally, the moment da Vinci's last finger lowered, the wild Mana surging about the room coalesced and burst in a blinding display, forcing all four present to cover their eyes.
After clearing all the stars from their visions, Marie, da Vinci, Mash, and Roman looked to the summoning circle to see the results of the third strange summoning within a week.
To their surprise there was no one servant standing there.
There were two.
One was an albino woman(snow white hair and red eyes) dressed in a quite...revealing white ceremonial looking dress with crimson and golden lining. On their head rested a matching white-gold crown. They seemed quite confused to be there.
The other was...an pitch black silhouette of what seemed to be a man, the only truly perceptible parts being the stark whites of their eyes. To Roman's own eyes they looked more like a living three-dimensional shadow than a person.
The shadow Servant eyes blinked and looked around, as did the woman, before finding one another.
There was a heavy, dense silence hanging in the air.
"Well," the shadow Servant broke it with a surprisingly normal, casual tone, "this is awkward as shit."
The woman blinked uncomprehendingly for a moment before something seemed to click, leading her to glare viciously at the shadow Servant. "You..."
At that moment the doors to the chamber slid open as a fifth individual rushed in in full battle regalia and blade at the ready.
"MASH! Are you okay?! Master...said..." The words trailed off as the King of Knights stared at the two new servants.
Or to be more specific, just one of them. Whom, upon seeing Artoria, utterly seemed to forget about the source of her previous ire. Recognition flashed in those red eyes, as the widest smile spread on an utterly elated face.
The very next second she rushed forward at speed and honest-to-god glomped King Arthur.
"SABER!"
"HEAVENS, IRI, DON'T RUSH ME WHILE I'M HOLDING A SWORD! I COULD HAVE SKEWERED YOU!"
Roman sighed as, to repeat, King Arthur was subjected to snuggles. Apparently it was another one of those summons.
⸨~ʘ~Ω~Ʊ~Ӝ~Ʊ~Ω~ʘ~))
Author's Notes: It's a bit infuriating how long it took for me to work through this. Curse you, lacking attention span and waxing and waning literary productivity!
Anyway! Precious, goodest girl Irisviel and a certain Angry Mango join the team [specifically] because of the Singularity!Fuyuki Grail used to reinforce and stabilize Olga-Marie's continued existence. Therefore accidentally acting as a catalyst for the two entities absolutely housed within it.
I apologize it took this long to all that have the patience to follow this story. Here, you can have the Servant Stats for Hoover as a gift! Who is(sort of) an Anti-Assassin Assassin.
Class: Assassin
Alignment: Lawful Evil
True Name: The True Name of Assassin is J. Edgar Hoover, the First Director of the FBI. Their legend has become slightly distorted not only due to the rumor of them crossdressing at a party once, but also the strong affiliation to the conspiracy theory of the Men in Black.
Source: Historical Fact / Conspiracy Theory
-Servant Parameters-
Strength: E
Endurance: D
Agility: D
Magical Power: E
Luck: C
Noble Phantasm: B
-Class Skills-
Presence Concealment E [As Director, Hoover was more of a leader than an active participant in operations. As such, their Presence Concealment is very weak, able to only mask their status as a Servant.]
-Personal Skills-
Beautiful Appearance E [Despite historically being male, the rumor of their cross-dressing has altered their physical appearance to be very androgynous. They have some resistance to gender-specific effects.]
Marksmanship C [A director of the FBI should feel comfortable with a gun in their hand.]
Charisma(Organization) C [It takes a particular type of person to form and run a secret government organization, while instilling loyalty for their purpose and cause. Their presence can bolster others to cooperate more efficiently.]
Information Gathering B [The FBI's main purpose was effectively gathering information and use it for maximum efficiency. Hoover is a master of fettering out and analyzing information, including potential weaknesses in their enemies. Hoover is immune to enemy obfuscating Skills(such as Presence Concealment and Information Erasure) of equal or lower Rank]
Information Erasure A [An elusive government agency is nothing without tight control over the flow of information. Due to their high Rank in this Skill, Hoover is able to pick and choose what information pertaining to them someone does or does not retain when affected by Information Erasure, with startling precision. Hoover can use this Skill for psychological warfare. Certain Skills can circumvent, counteract, or negate this effect.]
-Noble Phantasms-
Secret Servants of the Government: Men in Black D – Anti-Army
"We observe. We know. We act. Men in Black!"
Hoover's main Noble Phantasm, representing the men of the FBI. Manifesting as blank-face, gray skinned, black suit-wearing humanoids armed with bulky revolvers. Each of them is an Assassin in their own right, capable of C-Rank Presence Concealment. Hoover is able to perceive through the senses of these Men in Black, giving them incredible skills at surveillance and reconnaissance.
Weapon in Service of the State: Service Weapon 41 B – Anti-Unit
"In our hands secrets die. Lost into the void of history. Service Weapon 41! Draw!"
A Noble Phantasm born of the conspiracy of the American government hiding the existence of alien technology. A powerful futuristic super-weapon that Hoover can use, though for a high mana cost.
'Till next time~!