EDIT: The cost to buy a small apartment in New York City is greater than the cost to buy a large castle in France, can you believe that? In fact, some countries are willing to give away castles so long as you sign a contract stating you will preserve or renovate it at a point in the future. Not within a specific time frame, but just whenever you have the chance or whatever. Weird, huh?
Hey guys! I'll work under the assumption that you all are welcoming me back so that's nice of you all. I have a little bit to talk about and a good chunk of it is just fluff so if you want to skip and get to reading, it wouldn't hurt my feelings. :)
I took some time to have a break, relax, get my school stuff together and rewatch the source material. I'm feeling a lot better about writing and I think I can get some good stuff out in the future.
A couple of my reviews, while I can't really consider negative or positive, have pointed out some supposed inaccuracies with my writing. After reading them all so far, I can say that they don't really have any grounds. I've been extremely careful to follow the source to a T, only adding my own features or explanations when the wiki/source are found lacking in definitive details. So far, the only major piece of information I have added was regarding werewolves.
Moving on from that, there was a lot of reviews left for Chapter 14 and I was excited to see so many people enjoying my work and letting it be known!
There was one strange review that suggested I create a P atreon. Now before any of you begin to panic, I will not be making a P atreon. Not only do I not want to bother setting up benefits or such, but I also don't want anyone getting a "sneak-peak" just because they might have a little more income than the next person. I think it's wrong, and I want everyone to enjoy my writing without the looming threat of a pay-wall. So rest assured, Fate: Unbalanced Scales will be 100% free unless Ufotable buys me out or something. (But I guess they could just steal my ideas without paying a cent since this is technically 100% their property.) Speaking of, I'm pretty sure that making a P atreon to fund fanfiction writing is copyright infringement.
That being said, and don't take this the wrong way (I am a broke college student after all), if any of you readers are willing to donate some of your hard-earned simoleons, you're more than welcome to private message me and we can carry on from there. This will be the only time I ever mention this as it was relevant to the review, there's no point beating a dead horse or seeming like I'm trying to shove it down your throats. To keep things legal: All/any donations offered would be to assist me in a trying time, not to incentivize me to write or pay me for fanfiction-related services. All characters, ideas and such belong to whoever owns rights to the Nasuverse, not me.
I hope you all enjoy this next chapter and the introduction of new characters!
As Shirou had received a letter of recommendation from the Archibald's head, he was offered a dormitory with little more than a statement of his name. Octavia, a bubbly receptionist who constantly held a forced smile, had given him a key with a small "6C" stamped into the metal. Octavia hadn't even seem fazed with his assassin-like attire or the fact that he was drenched with rain.
Or the fact that a black-cloak wearing individual was being led along by his hand. The "disguise" Bazett decided on couldn't have been more suspicious. A ridiculously long, flowing cloak that concealed every possible inch of her appearance. Shirou couldn't help but feel like some sort of lame fantasy character. He was the assassin helping a princess escape her family because she wanted to see the outside world or something equally as stupid. Shirou was unnerved that Octavia hadn't said anything. If this scenario wasn't enough, what would it take for her to speak up about something?
Closing the door to his room, Bazett threw off her cloak and almost immediately began disrobing. Shirou had thought she would stop after removing the outer coat of her suit, but when she began unbuttoning her shirt, he quickly realized what was going on. "What do you think you're doing?" Shirou shouted, turning his head and holding up his hands to cover his eyes.
"I'm getting out of these wet clothes, having a shower and putting on fresh stuff," the Irish woman explained casually like she hadn't just started taking off her clothes in front of him. "Get over yourself, I'm not getting naked," she huffed. The sound of wet clothing hitting the floor, as well as a "tsk", preceded the closing of a door.
Peeking through his fingers, Shirou found that Bazett had gone into the bathroom, but had left most of her clothing on the floor like an animal. Turning to face the bathroom door, Shirou shouted to the other side. "Can't you at least pick up your dirty clothes?"
A sharp laugh returned. "That's your job, now figure out what we're going to eat, would ya?" Shirou wanted to respond, but the sound of running water cut him off.
"Get your own food for once." Grumbling, Shirou picked up her dropped articles between two fingers and moved them into what he assumed was a hamper. Closing the lid after he was finished, Shirou got a firm grasp of his room.
If his estimation skills were up to par, Shirou would put the room around one-hundred and fifty square feet, quite large considering Shirou's room back in Japan was a little under two thirds that. It was rectangular shaped, with the far corner nestled back into the wall. Just to the right of the entrance was a doorway to the bathroom which Bazett had gone through just moments prior. A single-wide bed was nestled in the recessed corner, with a large corner desk just across from it. Along the wall opposite the bathroom, sat a small wooden dresser and the aforementioned hamper was right beside it.
The room was actually more than Shirou was expecting. There was more than enough here for him to live comfortably. Deciding to get a jump on things, Shirou reached underneath his vest to withdraw the booklet he had received from Octavia.
Quite a lot of information was packed inside. A description of the magecraft divisions with brief overviews of all twelve general classes one could participate in, as well as Clock Tower staff members. Shirou hardly cared enough to remember any of the dozen other people inside, but he took a decent amount of time to remember one "Lorelei Barthomeloi." If her picture was any indication, Kiritsugu had been right about the Vice Director. Her eyes, face and even her body language spoke of cold detachment. It was like she was eternally angry or dissatisfied with everything going on around her.
At the Clock Tower, classes weren't assigned or mandated. Magi simply attended whichever classes they wanted. This system was thought to be better due to the odd hours and specialized nature of many magi. The only class with enforced attendance was General Fundamentals, which would need to be taken for five years before it could be dropped. Classes operated differently than any school he was used to. Magi selected a broad division to join, then specialized into a specific field after receiving a teacher's recommendation. Only then could a magus begin researching their desired field with school resources rather than being forced into the broader subject and reliant on their own finances. Something else which was uncommon anywhere else, was the strange jump-in, jump-out nature of classes. While magi were known to simply vanish for months at a time, they were expected to know everything that might have been missed were they to return. The divisions likely had schedules to be followed, but how they worked or how new students were expected to learn previous material was beyond him.
Shirou only hoped that he wasn't expected to be able to cast the spells being taught. While he could study and retain a considerable amount of information, he couldn't put any of it into practical use. Although, hoping for a test without being required to demonstrate was purely wishful thinking. Why wouldn't they want a display of knowledge?
Other classes which interested him were those of Mineralogy, Modern Magecraft Theories and a division simply called "Creation." Apparently, if he wanted the schedules to each, he would need to visit Octavia again. A brief scan of the room revealed a small clock on the corner desk. It was two in the morning, far from any reasonable hour.
That didn't mean he couldn't explore outside his room of course. Leaving Bazett to her shower, Shirou slipped out of the room and quietly shut the door behind him. Outside was nothing more than a long hallway. At the far end, Shirou could see it split off to the left and right, likely leading to more rooms or a stairway to the next level. Gritting his teeth and preparing his mind, Shirou activated his circuits and laid one hand against the wall. "Trace on!"
Like an architect sketching a plan in his mind, the wireframe of the building slowly developed itself from the ground up, revealing the layout of the building as well as which rooms were occupied. Three floors with a basement that was unexpectedly large. After a few seconds, once the wireframe had been established, Shirou removed his hand and looked his blueprints over for a second.
Tracing made it near impossible to lose his way. Wherever he was, he could simply trace the basic structure and make a map which would be stored eternally in his brain. Shirou would have put Theseus to shame. Navigating the labyrinth of the Minotaur would have been child's play. The main grounds of the Clock Tower were set within the Imperial College. Much of the framework and foundation had been erected centuries ago. The exterior, however, had been revamped and retrofitted. The college itself was nothing more than a front for magi to explain their presence to normal humans. Inside, magecraft was the only topic of conversation. From the tracing, an extensive underground complex revealed itself. The underground portion spanned from beneath the Imperial College and the Museum of Natural History with the Queen's tower nestled between them both. There were several rooms throughout the underground which were hidden by bounded fields which ranged in quality. The only bounded field above ground was within the Queen's Tower. They were compartmentalized segments but they extended from the bottom to the top. If Shirou had to bet, he would put money on the Queen's Tower being the office space of Lords or extremely prestigious magus families.
All at once, his circuits cut off and Shirou idly ambled back to his room. Stepping back in and relocking the door, the first thing he noticed was the lack of shower noise. The second was the lavender towel hanging halfway out of the hamper and the third, was the sight of burgundy hair lying on his pillow.
Grumbling sourly, the boy sidled up to the bed to glare down at the woman within. She was awake although she was about to pass out, that much he could tell. "I'm tired, I didn't get much sleep on that plane and I had none in Fuyuki. Just let me sleep for a few hours, then we can go see London alright?"
Wordlessly, Shirou sighed and turned around to leave. It was Saturday, which meant classes wouldn't begin for another two days. He would need help getting around London from Bazett, but that didn't mean he couldn't try to explore more of the Clock Tower. Maybe he would even make some friends or find someone to waste time with. Shirou wasn't used to so much free time, so he began considering improbable ways to spend it. Amidst his preposterous scenario creating, something reasonable came to mind. Even though it was late, he could set up the classes he wanted to attend with Octavia and prepare for the coming week. He might even be able to speak with Lord El-Melloi and see what he recommended.
Octavia would still be awake regardless of the time, he supposed, so he would get his class schedules first. Shirou slipped out of his room and quietly closed the door behind him. He turned quickly on his heels and ran face first into someone.
Only because he was both taller and heavier than the other person did he manage to remain standing. The individual bouncing off his chest had to take a half second to adjust their footing, but they were soon parted and glaring at him with unhidden anger. As his eyes landed on theirs, Shirou briefly wondered how Bazett had snuck out of the room ahead of him. Then he realized that their eyes were much lighter than Bazett's and that this was an entirely new person.
It was a woman, plain as day. Around his age, if he was any good at estimation. Her face was sharp and defined. Not near as diamond-cut as Rin, but certainly enough to remind him of the Tohsaka. Bright, golden hair flowed gracefully from around her head, gradually becoming a deeper shade of blonde as the strands ended in large coils. There were royal blue bows in her hair near the back of her head which served as another reminder of Rin. While a different colour, the Tohsaka tied her hair up in a similar fashion.
This woman's entire form of dress was this same royal blue throughout. The dress demanded attention and spoke of only one thing: wealth. Fine fabrics neatly ironed and well maintained with frilly white pieces accenting the overall image. At the hips, the dress broke into a much finer fabric which flowed like running water. A dress of this quality was easily a couple thousand dollars, a fact which immediately made him worry.
As Shirou began apologizing, the woman's face softened and the look that came into her eyes scared him. Unexpectedly, she seemed to disregard the entire incident with a question. "I haven't seen you here before, are you new?" The British accent was refined with a lilting quality. It was similar to the enforcer he'd killed, Elizabeth.
The question caught Shirou off guard. Who asked something so casual immediately after bumping into someone? He blinked in stunned silence before clearing his throat and adjusting the cape on his shoulders. "Something like that."
The mischievous smile which spread across her face dropped Shirou's stomach into his boots. "Then you don't know any of our rules. Around here, if you bump into another magus you have to offer a form of compensation."
He didn't like the sound of that one bit. Swallowing nervously, he narrowed his eyes to appear threatening. Thank God for the scarf concealing his emotions. "What sort of compensation?"
The woman seemed to shrink in place, likely his gaze having the intended effect. "The unspoken rule of the Clock Tower says that if a magus doesn't offer something immediately after inconveniencing another magus, the choice of compensation goes to the victim - me in this case." She lifted one hand to gently lie under her neck, closing her eyes like she was a treasured artifact.
Shirou repressed a groan. Why was every woman in his life absolutely insane? "What sort of compensation did you have in mind then, Miss…"
"Edelfelt, Luviagelita Edelfelt." His worst nightmare had been made a reality. One of the few families he had expressly been told to stay away from had met him his first day in the middle of the night. If Shirou were a servant, he'd be Lancer - the class with the absolute worst luck. The woman gracefully pushed her hand toward him. Shirou was unsure of whether she wanted to shake his hand or if she was gesturing for him to kiss her hand from the awkward angle. "And you might be?" He didn't even consider the second as an option, gently gripping her hand for a shake only to be surprised as she squeezed with the strength of a burly man.
Repressing a noise, Shirou tried to balance the handshake with his own grip. "You can call me Blade, it's a pleasure to meet you." His only option to escape this was to be polite, yet uninteresting enough that she wouldn't want to continue the conversation.
Luviagelita made a noise of intrigue, dull red eyes sparkling in wonder. Well, the plan of being uninteresting had already flown straight out the window. "A magus who goes by a cover name? You must have some sort of bloody ledge about you."
Shirou blinked. English lessons with Kiritsugu never prepared him for something like this. "I'm sorry?"
It seemed like the girl noticed his accent for the first time then, smile growing wider. "A foreigner too. You're a real international man of mystery."
He gave an awkward laugh, stepping partly to the side. "I suppose so. Well, you must be tired at such a late hour so-"
He got to the side of her before being grabbed at the wrist. "Now just one second, aren't you forgetting something?" He turned his head to find her giving him a sharp glare. "You still owe me a form of compensation, don't think that I've forgotten. You tried to distract me with your mysterious backstory, but it won't work on me." She paused, eying him up and down like a choice steak. Reflexively, Shirou actually stood a little taller but felt awkward at the same moment. Why was his body instinctively trying to impress her? She hummed in self-debate, making a concluding noise with an eerie smile. "You're going to be my lackey for the next few weeks. That shall be your compensation."
Shirou scrunched up his face behind the scarf, had he heard her right? "A lackey? What, you want me to be a servant for you?" The woman nodded righteously, placing her fists on her hips as if challenging him to fight the matter.
His experience had shown him that arguing with women like this would only start a battle. Since he wouldn't put effort into fighting his own friends, he usually wound up losing as well. He grumbled, eyes darting down the hall. He could make a run for it, sure, but how fast was this woman - and did he really want a potential enemy already? "Shouldn't you be getting some sleep?"
Her face soured like he had asked the stupidest question she had ever heard. "This is the Clock Tower, spells keep us awake for days at a time so we can continually study. Where have you been living, under a rock?"
Shirou grumbled and weighed his options once more, giving the woman an apprehensive stare. "Fine, one week. Can I grab the schedules for my classes first?" Luviagelita stepped to the side motioned with her hand for him to lead. He graciously took the time to be out of eyesight. How did he always manage to get himself in the worst positions possible at all times?
He wouldn't be surprised if homunculi began pouring through the doors looking for him at this point. Moving to the receptionist desk, Octavia's artificially joyous face greeted him. She was a rather good looking woman for her age. Mid-thirties with simple brown hair flowing down around an average figure. She wore black slacks and an open coat of the same colour with a deep ultramarine shirt below. Her fingers were adorned with banded rings, each laden with intricate inscriptions. Around her neck was a golden chain with a small emerald set as a pendant. Hanging off her ear were chime-like golden fixtures which reflected the artificial lighting above. Shirou had traced her upon arriving and discovered each piece of jewelry to be a conceptual weapon of sorts. Simply channelling mana through them would activate a spell, spells which could be combined to create a stronger, blended attack. The first person he'd encountered in Britain had already given his arsenal a considerable boost in power. There were four rings in total and each held a respective element, in this case, they were earth, fire, wind and water. The necklace operated the fifth element, ether. Unlike the rings, it couldn't be operated alone and acted more as a conduit for an ultimate attack than a true offensive device. The earrings were just earrings, not everything had to be a magical weapon.
Before he could say why he had returned, she clued in and began moving. "Ah, hello again. You'll likely want schedules for the classes you're interested in, yes?" With practiced ease, the woman rolled her chair over to a filing cabinet and flung open the bottom drawer. "You'll need fundamentals, but has anything else caught your eye?"
Stunned at the seamless nature of it all, Shirou stumbled partly before gathering his thoughts. "Mineralogy, Modern Magecraft Theories and Creation for now," he recited. Octavia nodded in agreement, thumbing through files to find whatever she was looking for.
In the meantime, Luviagelita sidled up beside him and offered a whisper. "You and I will probably be in the same Modern Magecraft class, you'll get to carry my books since you hurt my arms by bumping into me," the girl mockingly held her elbow as if it were in pain.
"Interesting, very interesting," the receptionist hummed, withdrawing four laminated sheets from various folders. "That's quite a spread. Most magi only choose one or two other fields." As Octavia turned around to face him, her eyes landed on the Edelfelt girl. Shirou watched as her face flickered from the artificial smile to surprise, then anger before returning to that cheap grin. "Well then, it didn't take long for you to sink your claws into him, Luvia."
Shirou felt a wave of heat from beside him and he could hear a low growling. The two were staring one another down wordlessly. There was a three-second silence which made the tension so thick it could have been sliced with a knife. Octavia decided to break it by handing him the schedule sheets with a genuine smirk. As his fingers gripped the surface, he found the receptionist still holding firm. "How did she get you, bump into you and ask for compensation?"
Pulling a little harder to claim the sheets, his eyes flickered between the two. "So she does this often?"
Octavia snorted. "To every poor new guy who wanders helplessly into her path. I really should have warned you with her being in the same dorm block as you, but the thought entirely skipped my mind." Octavia looked toward the woman in blue, clicking her tongue. "Just don't break this one, he seems nice." A feeling of dread formed a pit in his stomach. What was that supposed to mean?
"Mind your own business, Octavia! Now if you'll excuse us, I'm going to show Blade around so he knows where to go." The regal woman turned on her heel and began moving away until Octavia made a noise which halted her.
"Where did that other woman who was with you get off to, Blade?" The malicious smile which rolled across the receptionist's face betrayed her true intentions with the question.
Feeling a pair of eyes staring at the back of his head, Shirou narrowed his own in silent condemnation. Why did his life have to be so hard? "She left soon after I arrived. She's a long time family friend and she drove me in from the airport."
"Well, that's interesting. I don't remember anyone leaving recently. You needed help finding a big glowing tower in the middle of Kensington?" The evil which played across the woman's features reminded him of Illya when she hatched one of her ploys.
"So you're not alone, you're already with someone?" came the accusing question of Luvia. The strange wording almost made it sound like Shirou was dating Bazett and that thought brought a whole new realm of revulsion into the situation. While Bazett was only twenty-one, she seemed to much older and to be honest, Shirou was a little scared of her.
Waving his hands in front of him, he hastily worked on denying the allegations. "We're not dating, she's just a friend and she'll be leaving soon."
"If she's just your friend why were you holding her hand?" Octavia asked, leaning toward the desk with her chin nestled atop her knuckles.
Why was he justifying his actions to people he just met? "She was wearing a big cloak, she couldn't see out of the thing so I had to guide her!"
"You're getting awfully heated for such a simple misunderstanding then," Octavia casually remarked, smile growing wider as the frustration began to reach his eyes. This woman was a masterful manipulator, operating on a level twice that of Illya and Rin combined. She had him pegged and had been toying with him since the conversation began.
Maintaining a glower, Shirou let a sharp breath out of his nose to gather his composure. "I am merely frustrated at my interactions being questioned."
"You shouldn't be frustrated if you have nothing to hide."
"While true, I can find frustration in having to justify my every move." His eyes were set sharp, glaring daggers at the woman as the argument grew more and more heated.
She seemed to pause, a minor defeat on her end in the grand scheme of things. Deciding to cut her losses, the woman leaned back in her chair. "I suppose so. Well, I have no doubts Luvia would like to drag you around the Clock Tower or start experimenting on you." As easily as the debate had been started, Octavia ended it with a smile.
A tugging on his cape directed him away. Luvia was dragging him along by the fingertips. Only when they were out of earshot did she speak. "I should have warned you about Octavia. She really likes breaking into people's skulls. She's done it at least once to everyone here so don't feel bad."
Shirou looked back to the desk, noticing he was being led away from his dorms. "Are all the magi here like you two?" he mumbled.
"Only most of us."
… … …
… … …
Luvia was an interesting girl. For being part of a magus family he was supposed to beware, she didn't seem terribly dangerous. The girl was a little too refined for how eccentric she was, but Shirou pitted that up to loneliness. She had an obvious lack of friends within the Tower and a girl her age was likely dying for interaction. He only hoped she wasn't looking for a more involved form of interaction from him. He had enough problems with women back home, he didn't need someone fighting over him in Britain as well. During one of their conversations, Shirou discovered that she was seventeen, a full year older than he was. He hadn't given her his own age, but she placed her guess around eighteen, a compliment if he had anything to say about it. Through the early morning, Shirou had done a lot more listening than talking as to keep his identity as obscure as possible. It certainly hadn't stopped the girl from trying to wrench every ounce of information from him.
"Oh come on, just one little look under that scarf-"
With a snapping motion, Shirou gripped the wrist of a hand near his face. "I said no, Luvia." Throwing it away half-heartedly, Shirou continued walking down the hall. Sunlight was beginning to peek through the windows and illuminate the building with a warm, natural glow. Mornings were always so tranquil to him. Seeing the rays of sun dance across the ground and warm the air was a secret pastime of his.
The girl pouted, whined his name and danced around to stand in front of him like a defiant child. With her obstructing his path, he was forced to stop, offering little more than a steady glare. "Just one little look, please? What, are you so ugly under there that you don't want to scar my poor eyes?"
"Yes," Shirou levelled, watching the girl deflate.
"Such a brute. What would it take to get you to show me?" For a girl who looked the part of royalty, she was far less mature than Rin. Even her body motions were childish, squirming in place in a vain attempt at being cutesy or expressive.
He snorted at the prospect of a girl begging to see his face. Sarcastically, he spoke the first thing that came to mind. "Win a tournament in my honour."
"The Magus Tournament?"
Shirou felt the blood drain from his face, had he just screwed himself? "The what now?"
The mischievous smirk that spread across Luvia's face didn't help his odds. "The upcoming tournament where aspiring magi duel in a ring for the Clock Tower's amusement. A little barbaric, but a good way to build experience regardless. I had already planned on signing up and winning so getting a look at whatever you're hiding as well would just be aces."
A tournament of magi fighting one another? That had the chance to be an incredible resource for Shirou. Even if he couldn't beat all the other magi and win, just being able to spectate would expand his repertoire of weaponry. "Who said anything about letting you see my face if you won?"
"You did, just now," she pointed out, tilting her head and raising one eyebrow. "So that's the challenge then." Before Shirou could fully comprehend the stupidity he was forced to hear, Luvia looked toward a clock on the wall. "Seven in the morning? I should really get back to work, catch you later, Blade!"
Shirou held his tongue, watching her jog off down the hall. While he bad his complaints about their supposed "deal", he didn't want to deal with her any more than he already had. When she was out of range, he let out a sigh and lowered his shoulders. She hadn't exactly told him when or where they would meet again, but she already knew where his dorm was. Chances were that she would be waiting for him outside his room one day, possibly with a leash and collar.
He thought over the prospect of this "Magus Tournament". On the surface, it seemed to be little more than a pissing contest for every magus who could use a spell. Underneath the first layer however, Shirou could see the possible benefits. While he didn't know what the prize for first place was, it must have been enticing enough for magi to risk their lives fighting one another.
Come to think of it, what sort of safety regulations were in place to prevent one magus from "accidentally" killing another? Such a possibility was very real. From what Rin had told him, the Clock Tower operated solely on reputation and prestige. The more powerful a magus - be that power through money, fame or magical prowess - the further they went in their respective fields. Killing another magus just to progress that tiny inch further was entirely within the scope of possibilities. The thought of someone murdering another purely for reputation or personal gain sickened Shirou to his core. His mind was settled then. He would enter the tournament; if only to prevent any possible casualties. Opening the blueprint of the school in his mind, Shirou turned and began walking back to his dorm. Maybe Bazett would be awake by now.
… … …
She wasn't, but at least she was willing to get up. Drearily sitting in his bed with the sheet wrapped around her like a robe, she made a grumble and motioned with her hand toward her suitcase.
Trying to guess what she wanted, Shirou opened her bag and withdrew a fresh burgundy suit. Did she have multiple copies of these that she just changed out when they got damaged or dirty? Leaving the question in his mind, he threw the article toward the woman and turned his back so she could put it on.
"So, you meet anyone while you were out?' The sound of shuffling fabric broke up her words, little noises of fatigued effort coming through as well.
"One of the few people my old man told me to stay away from."
"Oh? You've met the Vice-director already? Surprised you're alive." Shirou shook his head but upon realizing that she likely hadn't seen that, he spoke his disagreement as well.
"Another student, Luviagelita Edelfelt."
"I've heard of the Edelfelt family before. They're a decently old lineage who kill for the highest bidder, sort of like what your father was doing for a while there." A rush of inexplicable anger flowed through him.
He wanted to speak up, to shout at Bazett and tell her she had misunderstood the man, but there was no point. Trying to explain Kiritsugu's motives through anger in such a short amount of time would only confuse her. Clenching his glove-clad hands and grinding his teeth, Shirou forced the urge away. Normally, a slight against his father rolled off his back, but the words coming from someone he knew, someone who personally knew the old man, infuriated him. Only, that wasn't the real cause for his emotions. For reasons he couldn't explain that slight comment had infuriated him to levels mere words were unknown to do. For now, he simply focused on breathing.
A tap on his shoulder brought him out of his calming trance. "I'll give you a brief show of the area around the Clock Tower before helping you navigate the tube. Get into some normal clothes and project that outfit so that I don't have to walk around in a cloak all day."
Shirou let out a slow breath, feeling the anger within him subside. Thinking about his reaction, he realized just how uncommon such a thing was for him. "Once we're far enough away you can take it off and nobody should recognize you." Bazett paused, narrowing her eyes as she peered into his own. "Hopefully your eyes don't change anymore, otherwise you're going to have to wear contacts to avoid being recognized."
Shirou stiffened, eyes in question widening. "Anymore?" he asked, scrambling toward the bathroom to look in the mirror. Leaning forward over the sink, he examined his face. His eyes had changed greatly since he last studied them. No longer were they bright flaming orange with disjointed specks of silver. It was still difficult to see, but the former bright orange was a darker shade than he remembered and the rim of his iris was lined with cold, steely gray.
"Jesus kid, don't have an aneurysm. Your eyes change a little when you get older, so what?" Bazett shrugged, leaning against the doorway to the bathroom. Shirou spared her a glance, cautiously returning his gaze to the mirror as if he was unfamiliar with who he was looking at. "If it's really a major problem and you don't want contacts, I could put some runes in that scarf of yours that will change your eye colour for you."
He pawed at his face with a grumble, tugging down and up at his eyes as if there was an eyelash caught within. "If you could do magecraft like that, why didn't we just magically hide my face?"
"Using magecraft to hide your face while surrounded by mages a hundred times more powerful than your own, inept self?" Bazett laid out blandly, folding her arms across her chest and closing her eyes solemnly. "That's the smartest idea I've ever heard." Her tone was enough to make Shirou's own throat dry. "Better to look like an idiot rather than actually be one you know." Pushing off the door with her shoulder, the woman rolled her arm and nodded toward the door. "If you're finished worrying about what you look like to your girlfriends, we can get going."
… … …
… … …
Ten hours later, Shirou collapsed on a bed in pure exhaustion. Not only had he been awake for a little over sixteen hours, but he had also gone through a fierce bout of training with the Irish woman herself. Bazett had first taken him an hour away, then darted off into an alleyway and threw off the cloak before commanding him to dematerialize his own suit. He had only brought the real scarf along so Bazett could add the disguise-type runes she had mentioned earlier.
Luckily, It was a beautiful, clear sunny day. Bazett had commented on how they should take advantage of such uncommon weather, especially since the forecast pictured no other days better than partly cloudy for next week.
Shirou had visited every major landmark across London, either walking there directly or making use of the tube. Buckingham Palace, Hyde Park, Big Ben, London's Eye, both the London and Tower bridges and even The Shard. The extensive underground railroad system baffled Shirou to start, but after looking over the traced map in his head for a while, he had a decent understanding. Even Bazett had difficulties navigating the area and she had supposedly lived here for years, so his own lack of comprehension wasn't entirely unexpected.
He wasn't able to visit every corner of London, but he had most of the major districts laid out in his mind. What really astonished Shirou was the sheer scale and bustle of it all. There was so much distance to cover between important buildings and so many people milling about that it seemed like a miracle that anything got done. Fuyuki wasn't a large town by any means, but it was enough to satisfy his needs. Though trying to compare Fuyuki to London was impossible. The difference in scale was awe-inspiring and constantly reminded him that the world had so much to be seen. While Shirou enjoyed his humble, monotonous home town, he could still enjoy a massive city like this. He admired the variation in buildings and the crisp, clean look of the roadways. It was almost like every inch of road was freshly laid. Deep, crisp black with bright yellow, red and white lines painted on top. It made the architecture around stand out and told him that maintenance was high on the list of priorities.
After his bout of tourism, Bazett brought him back to her own bought-and-paid-for home. She casually mentioned that Kiritsugu's payment for his training had been a major contributor in the actual purchase, leading Shirou to wonder just how much money the old man had given her. It was a small thing that could barely fit a single person but Bazett herself said it was more than enough. What brought value to the home was the large training room downstairs. It was large enough for four people to fight comfortably and the perimeter had been enforced with bounded fields to prevent the nasty problems and side effects associated with magecraft, namely expensive repairs.
His first real spar since the enforcer incident had taken place and he had been wiped across every surface. Bazett was no longer holding back anything. Her speed, power and technique were all operating with an unbidden intent to kill. Shirou was instantly reminded of the fight he had watched between her and his father. Their seamless motions cancelling one another out, every attack releasing an explosive amount of magical energy.
Shirou had definitely not expected the increase in difficulty, and it showed. After his fourth rib was broken, they had taken a break. Avalon pieced the shattered bones back in place and they had re-engaged. After doing this two more times Shirou felt like he couldn't breathe, so their training was completed.
All of which led him to his current situation of being face-first in Bazett's pillow. With the disruption of the fabric, came a waft of scents. Earthy with an almost alcoholic undertone which featured root and spice notes like a finely crafted ale.
Inhaling deeply to calm his burning lungs, Shirou could almost feel his blood alcohol level rise. A weight near his side creaked the bed. "Oh come on, I've seen you break more bones than that before giving up."
He turned his head to glare up at Bazett with a huff. "It's been weeks since I've had to train, I guess I've softened up a bit with all the downtime. Besides, I wasn't expecting a fight to the death when you asked me to spar."
A jabbing finger prodded at the soft flesh of his side, sending a jolt throughout his entire body. Making a noise of pain mixed with discomfort, the Irish woman hummed. "Figures that all the work I put into you would end up wasted by Elizabeth."
Thankful she only jabbed him once, Shirou slid one hand over his side to guard the spot. That was the second time she mentioned the enforcer by name. There must have been some history between the two for her to react in such a way. "You make it sound like Elizabeth messing with you was something common."
"It was," she shot back quickly. "Elizabeth was a thorn in my side ever since I met her at the Enforcer testing grounds at Norwich…"
… … …
… … …
… … …
"Bazett Fraga McRemitz," the young girl recited. The man ahead of her, one Isaac Jeeves, checked something off on his clipboard before offering a scrutinizing glance.
"Fraga? Interesting, did you leave the family willingly or were you exiled?" The glare of sunlight off his mirrored sunglasses was enough to make her squint. The emotion in his eyes might have been shrouded, but judging by his eyebrows she could see he wasn't really interested in her story either way. His appearance led Bazett to believe that he didn't care about much at all. Messy, brownish blond hair and unshaven, spotty facial hair. He wore a buttoned lab coat but based off its wrinkled state and unwashed appearance, he neglected that as well.
"Willingly, Sir."
"Hm, it's not often we see someone leave the family of their own volition, much less admit themselves as an enforcer. Come to think of it, I haven't heard the Fraga clan doing much of anything for the past century."
Bazett held her tongue, offering a sharp glare instead. He wanted her to spill details, explain her life story and try to exploit that as a weakness. Her mother had told her how manipulative magi could be, she wasn't falling for any of it. "I can't say that I know, Sir."
He hummed, one edge of his lips pulling off to the side. That hadn't been the response he'd expected. "You're number three." With a tap-tap of his pen on the board, he moved onto the next in line.
She didn't dare turn her head. Enforcer training was similar to the military in a sense. Each individual applicant was gauged by the effectiveness and willingness to follow orders. Stepping out of line or sticking her head above the grass would just cause trouble. There was so much to remember, so much to look out for. Maybe she was too young to sign her life away to the Association. She was only sixteen, not even an adult technically. But being here felt right. Even if the odds of her finding and putting down her mother's murderer were impossibly low, the slightest possibility would still give her purpose.
"Elizabeth Velum," came an unnaturally sweet voice. On instinctive curiosity, Bazett turned her head with a parted mouth. The woman offering her name was a tiny thing who hardly looked strong enough to hold herself up let alone fight sealing designates. Although in the world of magecraft, things were never what they seemed. She was wearing what everyone else in line was, a skin-tight suit in deep blue with accents of faux gold. Almost symbolically, an ornate collar ran around the neck, wrists and ankles.
As Bazett should have expected, something hard and fast landed square in her stomach. Reeling over from the impact, Bazett couldn't even discern what had hit her. It hadn't been a fist, that she was sure of. One of the other instructors shouted out "Head forward McRemitz!"
A pair of hands gripped her by the shoulders from behind, hauling her winded, coughing form upright and forcing her to stand at attention.
Her body's natural reaction of haphazardly sucking oxygen blocked out her hearing momentarily, diverting all attention to breathing. When she regained her composure, she resumed standing tall and orderly as directed.
Like everyone else present, she had to wait until everyone was accounted for before today's test began. They were just outside Norwich, beside an abandoned RAF training field that had been battered and bruised by time. While the landscape was unkempt and disorderly, the equipment was still in useable. Several walls of varying size and composition, a barbed wire crawl, monkey bars set over an open ditch and every other minor component familiar to a boot camp.
Before she could even begin, they had to get through the minimal red tape and listen to the instructions of the course. The man in sunglasses stood some distance away, clipboard at his side as he looked between each of the prospective enforcers. "Each one of you will be running the course one after another. You have all been provided numbers I hope you remember and exactly fifteen seconds after the number ahead of you begins the course, you are to proceed through. Fifteen seconds exactly, waiting on any other member will result in penalization." He extended one arm and pointed toward the course. "You are not to utilize magecraft or your abilities in this exercise, not even reinforcement. We have exercises later today which will test you in those areas." Facing forward, he nodded partly forward with his head. "Number one, get your ass moving, your timer has started."
There was a slight noise, then the sound of scrambling as a man of average build took off running toward the course. Unable to turn her head to watch, Bazett couldn't see how he was performing so she began counting the seconds in her mind instead. If she were number three, she would have to start in thirty seconds, regardless of when number two began.
The man on her right, number two most likely, was a large man who made her look like a dwarf. With arms and legs like tree trunks surrounding a barrel chest that heaved in exertion even though he was merely standing.
Fifteen seconds passed, and the brute beside her didn't move. Nineteen seconds passed before someone roughly shoved him forward. "All those muscles take up parts of your brain? Get fucking moving!" With some hesitation, the big man lumbered toward the course. As Bazett reached twenty-nine in her head, the muscles of her body tensed. As soon as "thirty" sounded off in her mind, she was sprinting to start the course.
… … …
The next day featured pouring rain and cold winds. The number of potential enforcers had halved since yesterday. Plenty of the members from the first trail yesterday had completed the course in abysmal times. Ironically, the larger applicants were often the ones to fail such a simple test.
They were in a new location, specifically a large stone plateau nestled on the top of a hill. It was hundreds of years old at least, with massive man-sized stones set into the dirt acting as pillars. There were four of these pillars, placed around the arena to form a square. Apparently, they would be fighting one another today to further reduce the applicants. From what little Bazett could gather during her approach to the lineup, several faces were missing. The large man, number two, was the most prominent absence. Settling into place, attendance was logged in similar fashion to yesterday.
Stating her name, Bazett idly listened to the names of those down the line, potential opponents. She had done some research into the people whose name she had managed to remember. To her direct left was a man named Klark Denver. He was a cryomancer, with a propensity to freeze his opponents solid before shattering them into glass-like shards. The next, a woman named Tyrant, was an aerotheurge who manipulated the very air to aid in physical combat.
The third in line spoke in that same eerily-sweet voice that had caught Bazett's attention yesterday, "Elizabeth Velum." Bazett consciously had to stop herself from turning her head, memory of the last time she had returning to her. Even after all the information gathering last night, Bazett had gotten nothing on this one woman in particular. She was a wildcard, an unknown variable that had to be carefully observed.
"These fights will determine your ability to react to unexpected assailants in the field. On missions hunting sealing designates, you can never be entirely sure what you will encounter. All of you are expected to put everything in these duels, holding anything back will be viewed as a weakness. Losing a fight here doesn't necessarily mean failure in the program, but that will be handled on a case-by-case." The one shouting over the rain had been the man from yesterday, still wearing his silly lab coat and sunglasses even though it was dark outside. He tapped on his board twice with the pen. "McRemitz," he began, sending a feeling of dread through her body. "Since you're so interested in one of our other applicants, you'll be going up against her first. Elizabeth Velum, step forward and take your position at the far end of the arena."
The sense of dread from earlier left her immediately. For one reason or another, Bazett had thought the man in sunglasses was about to chastise her for something she had done. Fighting was something that was familiar, so Bazett didn't feel all that nervous as she positioned herself at the edge of the arena. Elizabeth Velum, that sliver of a woman, sloshed out across from her and turned to offer a steely gaze. The Irish woman was taken aback by the contrasting appearance. She barely looked older than thirteen, but her eyes displayed cool confidence and experience that was something to be extremely wary of.
"Begin when read-" Like a bullet, the small woman shot forward before the man's words had even be finished. Bazett roughly snapped her body into a combat stance, barely able to get herself prepared before the first strike landed on her forearm.
A pugilist then? This was something she could handle. Feeling a rush of confidence, Bazett slipped into a trance of concentration, smoothly following and reflecting punches as if it were as natural as breathing. The two were pushing one another back and forth with dozens of strikes, eventually centering themselves in the arena while circling one another in place.
A sweep of the leg turned the petite girl around, putting her back to Bazett. The Irish woman hadn't been caught by the simple unbalancing move, but she had by the unexpected elbow to her stomach. On contact, a strange blast of magical energy sent her sliding backward along the waterlogged stone to the far edge of the arena. While she prevented the major effects of being winded by breathing out at the moment of impact, the pain still forced her to take a second to recover. The rush of battle surged through her, adrenaline pushing away the pain to hone her senses. The scent of rain seemed purer, the cold sting in the air fading away as the heat of her body started warming her from the inside out.
In their brief time apart, her opponent had reached up to her ears to remove some sort of strange earrings. In an instant, they became weapons of obscure origin. Shaking her head to throw some soaked hair from her face, Bazett paused to crack her knuckles. Thankfully, she'd had the foresight to apply runes to the training suit. Since she had all night yesterday to work on it, she had been able to accomplish quite a lot. While the suit wasn't perfect, it was decent enough for Bazett to be happy with it. Taking a few shaky steps forward, Bazett forced mana into the runes scrawled onto her outfit and prepared to fight blades with her bare hands. Without gloves, Bazett would be forced into striking the flats of each blade rather than striking the edge without care.
There was a copious amount of sloshing going on. With all the water pouring down, the stone plateau was a lake about an inch deep. Water was being flung in every direction and the only thing preventing her entire body from being soaked was the waterproof nature of the enforcer bodysuit. Above the sound of rain and sloshing water, screeching blades rang out over the plateau. With each ear-ringing noise, sparks of blue illuminated the dark area. Elizabeth was reinforcing her weapons as well, and each contact of the conflicting magecraft was progressively wearing both sides away.
The woman was much faster with two blades, almost skirting past Bazett's defences with each swing. On two particular occasions, she actually had. The blade barely skimmed her along the midsection but the brief contact was enough to slice the body suit open like a sausage link. The scar deposited on her body was nothing worse than a cat scratch, but the pain was equal to that of a paper cut.
Elizabeth might have been fast, her strength was a little bit lacking. Even though her blows were being enhanced with miniature blasts of mana, Bazett could easily overpower the small girl with a simple application of additional effort.
As if on command, more mana was drawn from Bazett's circuits to fuel the hungry runic inscriptions on each arm. Instead of merely countering the girl's weapons, her blades were being blown backwards as overwhelming strength completely disregarded the bursts of mana.
There was a gasp as a fist broke through her guard entirely, twisting her sword out of her grip. With the side of Elizabeth's blades carried on by her knuckles, Bazett slammed her fist into the girl's abdomen. Even partially absorbed by the sword, the impact was immense. Leaning over her first, Elizabeth violently coughed a few specks of blood onto Bazett's arm. The Irish woman couldn't help but smirk. She had made the first decisive strike and had proved herself to the Mage's Association that she was enforcer material.
Then something pierced her stomach.
Like a red-hot blade through warmed butter, the green and silver weapon pierced her straight through the midsection. The end jutting from her back was coated in fresh blood which was slowly being washed clean by the pouring rain.
Bazett had been stabbed several times, either by thugs or other magi. It was something she could almost consider familiar, although it failed to get any better regardless of how often it happened.
Just because she had been impaled, didn't mean she was out of the fight. Gritting her teeth and adorning a feral expression, Bazett wrapped her arm around the back of Elizabeth's neck, slipping her other hand around her waist. In one fluid motion, the Irish woman threw the smaller girl over her shoulder, slamming them bottom-first onto the ground. Uncoiling her body from her opponent, Bazett took two stumbling steps forward, hand shakily touching the blade stuck in her body. As painful as it was to have a two-foot long blade in her stomach, a gaping hole would only make things worse. Spinning on her heel, searing pinpricks shot through her midsection. Elizabeth had recovered as well, holding both hands over her stomach where Bazett had punched her. An attack of that calibre should have ruptured some of her more frail organs at least, how was she able to move around so freely?
Bazett's knee wobbled once, an indication of just how much the pain was affecting her. On determination alone, she willed the limb stiff and methodically moved forward. She started with a feint, deliberately missing a hook only to snap her body into place and rocket her elbow into the woman's face. Elizabeth caught on a second too late, taking the hit but lessening the damage by moving with the blow.
Bazett felt a hand brush against her midsection, likely a failed attempt at grabbing the handle of the blade. Before Elizabeth regained her balance, Bazett planted her feet, sucked in a breath, then gracefully slid forward to deliver a spinning side kick. As planned, her foot embedded itself in Elizabeth's midsection. Not as planned, the frail-looking woman caught her leg. The blow would have been enough to launch her twenty feet outside of the ring, so how in the hell did this girl-
Bazett's mind was forced to stop thinking as the blade in her stomach was violently torn free. With a cry of pain, her body crumpled automatically. She landed awkwardly, with one leg being held high while the other was trapped beneath. The award angle left her half on her side, forced to use her trembling arm to support her weight.
Not one to give up, Bazett once again repressed the shout to stop from her mind. She hooked her untrapped leg between the smaller girl's feet and with a sharp motion, the smaller woman had one foot yanked forward. Rolling like some sort of crocodile, Bazett positioned the same leg to kick violently at Elizabeth's chest. The extreme unbalancing blow forced her to release Bazett's leg as she was thrown onto her back.
With the two women on the ground, they collectively scrambled to situate themselves to better handle the threat. Elizabeth was much faster at this, lunging onto Bazett's front and sending the Irish woman onto her back in the water once more. Positioning her arms and legs, her experience in grappling and wrestling took over and it wasn't long before her increased size, weight and strength were making itself readily apparent.
Then, two sneaky fingers jammed themselves into the gaping wound on her midsection. Like twisting a knife in a wound, Velum was abusing a pre-existing injury and its effectiveness was instantly noticeable. Through the cry of pain, Bazett's motions eased up and weakened. In seconds the grapple had turned from entirely one-sided to a total toss-up. A pair of legs had wrapped themselves around her neck, but Bazett's experience in grappling allowed her to get her own legs into a similar submission hold. Struggling to gather enough oxygen to finish the fight, the Irish woman peered down into the eyes of her opponent, finding stubborn determination as fierce as her own.
"I win."
… … …
Shirou blinked with his mouth parted in absolute attention. It was a long story, but Bazett's recounting had been captivating. He knew surprisingly little of her history, so brief glimpses into what made her the woman she was were little hidden gems. Bazett abruptly ended her retelling of the tale and turned her head to glance out of the window. Noticing that the sun had gone away while she was telling her story, she shuffled and stood into a stretch. "It's getting late kid, you should get on back to the Tower."
His mouth parted a little more. "You're going to leave the story on such a cliffhanger? But I still don't know why you hate Elizabeth so much, or who won the fight!" He felt teased and disappointed simultaneously, he didn't like it one bit.
The woman only laughed, shaking her head. "Sometimes the wait to see what's next is the best part kid, you'll realize that when you're older." Rolling her eyes at Shirou's gobsmacked expression, she clarified. "I'll continue where we left off whenever we've got a minute, now get the hell out of here so I can catch some sleep or get drunk, or both." Grumbling, he hoisted himself from her bed and projected his finely-crafted outfit. Turning his back to leave, she made a noise to catch his attention. "I'm going off the radar for a couple of days, gonna try to cover my tracks of where I've been and all that. If you really need me you can come here and I'll probably show up sometime."
He nodded, stepping toward the door as she laid down on the bed herself. "I guess I'll try not to die on my own."
"Atta-boy, think positive," she chided with a chuckle as he slipped out of the door.
… … ...
… … …
Shirou's first class started at eight in the morning. He had spent all of Sunday locked in his dorm, absently training with his projection magic. Since the day of the enforcer incident, the entire process had changed somehow. Trying to describe the change was impossible but it was no longer as simple as taking blueprints and making copies of them. What was also concerning, was the fact that his projections now featured gold and blue sparks when appearing and dematerializing.
Something fundamental was changing within him, and it had been triggered by those damned words. "I am the bone of my sword," he murmured, turning Elizabeth's projected blade over in his hands. With some uncertainty, Shirou flicked on his circuits and gripped the handle of his projection tight. "I am the bone of my sword," he spoke calmly, words reverberating within his mind. From deep within - a place unseen - a pathway opened, the smell of hot steel flooded his nose and the distant clanging of forgework and crackling flame swam through his ears. Rin had informed him that this was a reality marble, that it was his inner world-altering the true world outside. It was a phenomenal form of magecraft bordering on true magic, but his version was incomplete. Rather than changing the world around him, he could only affect himself inside the world. That was his running hypothesis at least. Whatever was inside his mind was trapped within his human body, and it wanted out. Testing this theory, Shirou dematerialized and remade the exact same blade. Rather than being a mix of gold and blue sparks, it was entirely blue. The particle effect itself had changed as well. The golden colour often looked just like grinding metal sparks, however, these blue particles were much softer, reminiscent of ice crystals in the middle of light fog.
Twisting the blade to settle against his wrist, he carefully slid the blade along his flesh, opening up a large gash from edge to edge. Although painful, the result fascinated Shirou. Like some sort of chemical, the blood and flesh that was exposed to the air changed itself fundamentally into overlapping blades. While he had initially been terrified of the sight, Shirou realized that it was only because he was afraid of something so foreign. But with knowledge of its properties and a name, "sword-scale", it was significantly less threatening.
Every motion of the blades still hurt, and its ambient agony was similar to that of moving a sleeping appendage. Just like that night, every motion of the area sent stabbing pains through his body, and as the wound continued to ooze dark crimson blood, the lacerating feeling continued through his entire body. Tracing the fluid, he found that his red blood cells were actually becoming microscopic blades. It explained the full-body pain at least.
Over his brief times experimenting with the sword-scale, Shirou came to note some interesting points. The first was that regardless of how light contact might have been, it sliced everything apart. Clothes, weapons, even the parts of himself that were still flesh. The second was that it spread like cancer. After sustaining the first injury, it showed no signs of stopping until it consumed his entire body. While he hadn't really tested that theory, the night with the enforcer had been enough to assume as such. The third, and arguably most dangerous trait, occurred when he deactivated his circuits. When mana flow was removed, the sword-scale steadily shrank at a rate much slower than its spread. Rather than leave healthy flesh behind however, a mangled mess of what was essentially ground beef remained. While actually better for Avalon to heal, it proved near impossible to fully recover through conventional means. That reason alone was why Illya had such a difficult time reforming his leg, why she had nearly exhausted her mana reserves trying to fix him.
His circuits toggled off and the sword-scale began receding as if on command. Even with all these downsides, there were obvious benefits. Disregarding the myriad number of situations where such a condition might be helpful, activating his reality marble set the drain of his projections to a mere fraction of their normal cost. Normally, he could only project several dozen plain swords. With one line of this aria however, he could easily produce ten times that, although he had not been able to truly experiment. If the second line of his reality marble aria further decreased the cost was unknown. Shirou had been too nervous of what might happen were he to continue the aria.
As most of the sword-scale disappeared, a knock at his door set his heart jumping. He wasn't expecting any visitors, nobody was supposed to know where he was anyway. Who would-
"Blade, you're supposed to be catering to my every need!"
Of course it was her. He should never have expected to have a silent weekend alone in his own room. "Luvia I have class in an hour, can't it wait?" he called out, hastily projecting the scarf around his face. A tingling reached his eyes, an indication that Bazett's new runes were working as intended.
As he had half expected, the doorknob to his room rattled as a test to see if it was locked. "But that's exactly why I'm here. You've got General Fundamentals first, right? You get to carry all my books to class!" With what little time he had, he carefully wiped away the blood on his wrist and tugged up his sleeve to cover the self-inflicted wound. In the middle of his motions, the door clicked unlocked and swung open.
"Haven't you ever heard of respecting someone's privacy? What if I had been naked in here?" Shirou asked, standing upright and feigning anger. In reality, he had expected her to force her way in with magecraft.
"Then I would have accomplished two things at once," she shrugged, tossing her hair pompously with the back of her hand. "Now let's get going otherwise we're going to be late!"
… … …
Luvia had an obnoxious amount of books to carry. Thankfully, Shirou didn't have any of his own so he was open to hold everything she conned him into packing. By his order alone, they went to class early, if only because Shirou didn't want to end up late because of Luvia. Through the brief chat while they walked, Shirou learned that the girl only had two classes per day, half of what Shirou was taking.
After looking over his classes on Sunday, Shirou had planned out his days and determined that the only class that could have caused conflict was Creation. It had one class per day, so if it were missed, he was out of luck. The other class had two and sometimes three blocks he could attend at various times. This meant that his other courses more or less revolved around Creation. His decided schedule had General Fundamentals first, followed by Mineralogy and Creation before ending with Modern Magecraft Theories. Each class was two hours long and he had a one hour lunch after the first two classes.
The classroom for Fundamentals was empty, spare a heavy-set man lounging with his feet up on a wooden desk. If the soft snoring was any indication, he was sleeping. Shirou briefly paused to check the time on his cell phone, realizing it was still locked to Japan's time. With some quick math, Shirou deduced it to be seven forty-nine. With only ten minutes to class, he expected more magi to be milling about. Rather than disturb the instructor, Shirou calmly walked down the aisle to sit halfway up the left side of the lecture theatre. Perfect medication for his awkward situation. Sitting in either the back or front would draw too much attention. He settled Luvia's books down on the desk beside his selected seat and turned his head toward the entrance to watch her enter.
Rather than load himself down with a backpack or bookbag, Shirou had something much smarter in mind. Casually, he reached behind his back between the cape and his vest, projecting a simple paper notebook into his hand. In his honest opinion, this was the ultimate form of data storage: able to be generated and removed at will with the data recorded nowhere else besides his own mind. Withdrawing a pen from the coils, Shirou settled into his seat and got comfortable. Luvia gently slipped beside him, offering him a strange look before whispering. "It's not very often for magi to show up early. If anything we're usually late."
Shirou stretched with his arms languidly before shuffling to get comfortable in the cheap, rigid seat. "Well, I'm not like most magi. It also never hurts to be a little early to things. It gives you time to prepare."
Luvia made a partly aggravated hum, separating the large stack of books ahead of her so she could get a clear view of the teacher down at the center. "Most magi don't dress up like some sort of thief, so I guess you're right."
"Nice try at getting me to spill the reason," he offered blandly.
The girl groaned, rolling her eyes before looking at him directly. "What is it going to take to get you to tell me even the smallest thing?"
"More than you can afford." The girl made a huff, crossed her arms over her chest and faced forward. A few minutes passed in silence before curiosity got the better of Shirou. "So what are all those books even for?"
"I can't tell you."
He blinked, head twitching at the response. Immediately he clued into what she was doing. She isn't answering his questions because he wouldn't answer hers. For a woman who looked so royal, she was rather vengeful and childish. She was like Rin with the maturity of Illya. Humming, he decided to leave things there. Luvia wanted him to react. That way, she would know she was getting to him.
The two sat in silence until more people began filing into the room from both entrances. When the ambient sound reached the instructor, he lazily stirred, stretched and stood.
The instructor briefly panned the room, pulling a double take as he spotted Shirou near the side in the obscure get-up. He was a larger-than-average man and a quick trace revealed his precise measurements. Five feet, ten inches and two hundred thirty-four pounds. Residual nicotine clinging to his skin and short black hair revealed he was a smoker. He wore a neatly pressed, cream-coloured dress shirt and dark slacks which both strained to contain his girth. Shirou's trace revealed that if he were to put so much as five more pounds of force on the lowest shirt button, it would blow out like the cork of a champagne bottle.
The man opened his mouth to say something, but a student drew his attention away with a question Shirou couldn't quite pick out through the surrounding noise. As the room began to fill, Shirou noticed quite a few magi looking in his direction. He could only imagine how many of the whispers were about him. He leaned forward, concealing what little was left of his face and devoting his attention forward. The lack of comment by Luvia let him know he was getting the cold shoulder. Without much delay, the lesson began and Shirou prepared to write notes.
… … …
His notebook was blank. Not because there wasn't anything interesting taking place, but because he understood everything going on already. The subject they were going over, "manipulation of natural matter through magecraft", had already been taught to him by Rin.
Then again, this had been Fundamentals. "Placing" his notebook behind his back, he turned to Luvia, who hadn't opened her books once.
"What was the point of me carrying all these things if you weren't going to use them?"
The girl looked at him with parted lips before breaking into a smile. "I didn't need them for this class. I needed them for Modern Theories!"
Shirou felt his face go cold and flat. "The class six hours from now? You expect me to haul these things around for the whole day?"
She nodded ecstatically, abruptly standing and walking toward the aisle. "Don't forget alright? I'm counting on you, servant!" He called out to her as she left, but his only response was a laugh while bolting up the stairs. Grumbling, he stood and slid Luvia's books closer to the edge of the desk. The noise of someone clearing his throat sent his head in the same direction. Blocking his way to the aisle, was a tall man with messy blond hair and cold blue eyes. A cocky, angular face with defined, confident features. He wore blue jeans, clearly separated and defined with a brown leather belt. The orange dress shirt tucked into the waistband was unbuttoned halfway down, allowing the sparse beginnings of chest hair to poke through. He was a little taller than Shirou himself and a quick trace defined his height at a respectable six foot one. Weighing a touch over two hundred pounds, the man seemed to be built for bodybuilding rather than magecraft. "You know I've been dyin' to ask; what's with the getup? Gotta make class before you go off to kill someone?"
"Come to think of it, I've never seen someone like you in here before, you must be new." A girl with silver hair and matching eyes leaned over the row of chairs on his right, getting a little too close for comfort when her hand reached out to touch him.
Well, it was time to put this new look to the test. Mustering as much venom as he could, Shirou snorted in derision, batting away the woman's pawing hand with his own gloved one. "How would you know that's not what I'm here for?" Sharpening his eyes like a predator, Shirou watched the blond man stiffen.
Then he broke into a boisterous laugh. "Quite the pair on this guy! Someone nobody's ever heard of walking in like he owns the place? Threatening us like he's some sort of killer no less." He continued laughing at the absurdity of what he just heard, getting a few chuckles from those around him, all of which had turned their attention on Shirou.
Clenching his hands into fists subconsciously, the hammer of a gun fired in his mind. He wasn't planning on doing anything exactly, but a little premature reinforcement never hurt anybody. "I've come to go to class just like the rest of you. How about we all get moving before we're late." Shirou maintained the sharp glare, keeping a watch on the others around him with his peripheral vision.
The blond man snorted once, left-hand clenching into a fist. "Didn't know they were letting foreigners into the Clock Tower as well. Must have been something special to let an Easterner like you in, so why don't you give us all a little sho-"
"Ayaan Turner!" came a shout from down the stairs. Everyone, including Shirou and the blond man, Ayaan. "Might I remind you that fighting within the Clock Tower classrooms is prohibited and that such an infraction would be your third strike?"
Biting his tongue partly, he made a tsk, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants. "Guess you're right." Stepping backward into the aisle, the man nodded toward Shirou before climbing toward the exit. "We'll have to continue this some other time, killer."
When the man and the onlookers left, Shirou unclenched his fists and turned his circuits off. He offered a slight nodding bow toward the podgy instructor as a display of gratitude. "Just so you know, I cut in so I wouldn't have to write up paperwork explaining why my classroom was in ruins. Other instructors might not even be so kind as to do that," he mumbled as if sharing a deep resentment toward a specific instructor. Wordlessly, Shirou nodded in comprehension before climbing the stairs to move to his next class - Mineralogy.
… … …
This class couldn't be anything more than expected. It handled rocks and everything that came from rocks - specifically metals and how magecraft could manipulate them. This division of the Clock Tower actually worked with reinforcement magic but in a limited sense. Basic strengthening magic on the materials to make them more durable was as far as things got.
Thankfully, he had only received some odd looks rather than been the center of a confrontation in Mineralogy. The lesson today instructed him about poly composite materials. That was, how to blend composites with magecraft when they wouldn't combine traditionally. From what Shirou could gather, actually creating items wouldn't happen for some time. At the very least, he learned something new even if he had basically been applying the same principles himself.
When lunch rolled around, Shirou ambled around the large open area Luvia had shown him days ago. There were hundreds of tables here, but since the Tower was set within a museum, that had been expected. Two food kiosks sat nestled in the wall, already serving a line of hungry magi who were also on break. As he debated where to sit, he locked eyes with a woman in blue. A woman who smirked in self-satisfaction as she spotted the books in his arms.
With a movement of her arm, she beckoned him over. Glancing around as if he hadn't seen the action, Shirou reluctantly trailed along the floor toward her. He was technically still indebted to her, even if her supposed "compensation" was fake, he had agreed to one week, and he wasn't about to go against his own word.
"So how were your first two classes?" she asked immediately, guiding him to a small three-seater table.
Shirou thought about the question before answering, actually giving something genuine. "They weren't bad but they were far from what I expected. Too easy for my liking, I've already gone over some of this material on my own."
Luvia hummed, motioning for him to pull her seat out so that she could sit. He did so begrudgingly before settling into a chair across from her. "A lot of those introductory courses are too simple for a magus of decent quality. You'll want to specialize down into a field as soon as you can, only…" She trailed on, a distant look hazing over her eyes. As Shirou prepared to ask what happened, she flicked back into consciousness and shook her head slowly. "Go buy us food, then we can talk."
Shirou scrunched his face in confusion. "You want me to buy food? I might be your lackey but I'm not paying fo-" Luvia silenced him by shoving a bill in his face.
"I'm not some slave driver, now quit your whinging and get moving."
Unenthusiastically, he snatched the bill and stood from the table. Walking toward one on the cafe-type stores, he looked over the menu and within the display coolers. They served pre-made sandwiches but there was also a kitchen add-on which made food fresh to order. The selection was surprisingly lacking and this college cafe had a daily soup-and-sandwich combo. Shirou couldn't find the special today very appealing, so he decided to move on to something else.
Shirou settled on two salads, mostly because he was unsure of Luvia's likes and dislikes. After a few minutes, he had the dishes and was walking back to the table. He was surprised to see a man with dark hair nestled in his spot. Based of Luvia's bored gaze, she wasn't interested in whatever he was selling.
When he neared, her eyes sparkled and her face split into a mischievous smile. "There he is now. Blade, if you wouldn't mind. Could you please direct this gentleman away?"
He blinked, gently settling the two dishes in his hand on the table. The strange dark-haired man visibly sized Shirou up, chuckling at the sight. "Emo Robin Hood here is with you? Nice try. I bet he begged to even speak with you and you're just pitying him until someone better comes along."
Was everyone in the Clock Tower this pigheaded? Where did all the arrogance come from? Emo Robin Hood himself hardly took offence to the insults. As a response, he simply took a seat in the other chair. The one thing he hadn't really accounted for was eating. How was he supposed to eat with a scarf in the way? Casually, Shirou began to test open the bag containing a plastic fork. "That doesn't look like you're getting him away," Luvia huffed.
"He must realize that he's too weak." The man turned his attention to the Edelfelt girl, leaning over the table, and Shirou tried to determine how to get the food in front of him into his mouth. "So why the sudden cold shoulder? You seemed pretty interested when I first walked by." Just as Shirou predicted, he had been set up. Or there was an attempt to set him up anyway. Luvia had purposely incited the man here so Shirou could flex his muscles and give her insight. Chuckling to himself, he poked and prodded at his salad. Ths laugh seemed to alert the man and his attention moved back to Emo Robin Hood. "What's so funny?"
Shirou speared a couple of pieces of lettuce. And rested the fork on the container, still working out his method of actually eating food with this outfit on. "She's having us for a laugh. She lured you in so that when I came back, she could ask me to force you to leave. I thought the situation was a little fishy, but your statement then just confirmed it." Shirou absently slid the other plastic salad container over to Luvia, who was looking at him in surprise. "If you get up and leave now, you won't waste any more of your time, I'll keep my end of things by making you leave her alone and there won't have to be any violence on any of our parts." Picking up his fork again, he idly stirred the food below, glancing up with his eyes occasionally to spot the man's astounded face. He seemed to realize what was going on just as Shirou had and with a haughty grumble, he stood and left.
"I don't know whether to be surprised or angry that you figured out my plan," the woman huffed, sliding her salad close and removing the plastic lid to start eating.
"I did what you asked and got him to leave," he shrugged, pulling his hood closer to his face before folding the scarf up and bending forward. Careful to make sure most of his face remained concealed, Shirou stuffed his mouth with salad and replaced the scarf, chewing once his mouth was concealed. Eating like this was ridiculously tedious but if he wanted to retain anonymity, it was an unfortunate requirement.
"I guess you did so I can't really be mad." The Edelfelt girl pouted, lazily playing with her food. "How did you see through my plan so easily?"
Both Rin and Illya leapt to his mind. How many pranks had he seen coming before they could be enacted? If he included all the minor things, it was likely well over a hundred. Spearing more salad, he lifted his scarf and spoke before taking the next bite. "Let's just say I've had some practice."
There was a brief moment of silence as the two idly ate their lunch. "Huh, the more I learn about you the more interested I become." Shirou silently cursed himself. That was precisely what he was trying to avoid. This was going to be a long week, wasn't it?
… … …
Creation was interesting, to say the least. Shirou had gone in expecting to be crafting effective items with actual purposes. For a class named "Creation" there was a distinct lack of any creating. The students around him seemed to be more interested in art and design than practical or fundamental crafts. To most students, perfecting the overall shape and appearance was vital. Shirou's beliefs were entirely inverse. So long as whatever he made worked, its appearance didn't matter. Function over form and the like. At least he could learn something from the class anyway. Today the instructor had demonstrated how to determine if mythic components or objects with varying forms of magecraft were compatible with one another. It was something Shirou actually found interest in. Regardless of the general opinion of the student body, this class had the potential to teach him many things about creating his own conceptual weapons from scratch.
Modern Magecraft Theories was his last class of the day although unlike his other classes, he wasn't able to arrive alone. Since he was still classified as a slave under Luvia, he had continued to carry her books all day. Upon arriving, he settled the books on a desk and nestled into a chair. Spotting the instructor below, Shirou felt the strangest sense of familiarity even though he had never seen the man before. It felt wrong not to remember the man's name.
A sharp, intimidating face with long black hair that reached his shoulders. The sharp look of his dark eyes was the most striking feature. He had the look of a man who had seen too much and became jaded as a result. He wore a two-piece suit in black with a crimson scarf draped simply over his shoulders. Immediately upon spotting Shirou, the teacher motioned with his hand for him to come down. With mild confusion, Shirou pointed to himself to confirm that it was really him he wanted. When the man nodded sharply, Shirou came to his call, politely asking what was needed when he neared.
"I need you to fill out a few forms," he grumbled, reaching into a briefcase to withdraw a few papers. "Select which classes interest you and I'll get you placed there within the next couple days."
Shirou gently grasped the papers being thrust his direction, offering a bewildered look as the pieces settled into place. Before his mind could stop him, he blurted out: "You're Lord El-Melloi?"
The man in question snorted but the humour did not progress any further. "I bet your father would say the same thing. A lot has changed since then, whether it was for the better or not is still up for debate."
The redhead furrowed his brow. "Becoming a lord and surviving the War wasn't good enough?"
Waver closed the briefcase after gathering what was needed, letting out a stream of breath. "You'll see what I mean soon enough. After class today, go sign up for the Magus Tournament and prepare yourself for that."
Turning his back, Shirou had to take a second to realize what had been asked of him. "Even you want me to join that tournament next week?"
"Of course. If you're as formidable as your father claims you to be, you can make a reputation for yourself and scare off potential enemies early," he reasoned, slipping behind his desk and fixing the items on top.
"But I can't use my magecraft here, someone will s-"
"The arena is watched but is also surrounded by a bounded field. Nobody will be able to see with more than their eyes. So long as you don't create a reality marble or summon noble phantasms or conceptual weapons out of thin air, you should be fine." The Lord nodded. "Now settle down before anyone gets the wrong idea." With one hand, he motioned for the redhead to be seated. Turning, Shirou spotted the first few students filing into the room.
While Emo Robin Hood returned to his seat, the thought of projecting noble phantasms stuck to his mind. Was it possible? Could such a vast amount of power, the crystallization of a Heroic Spirit's greatest accomplishment, be replicated with enough precision to retain its power?
That thought was for another time. For now, he would focus on getting through the class and figuring out which specialized class he wanted to attend. Looking over the list on the paper almost gave him a headache. Projection and Reinforcement were obviously near the top of his list, but where would he go from there?
Waver Velvet, Lord El-Melloi, cleared his throat to silence the seated students and steal their attention. "Now as I've said before, I hope you've all registered in the Magus Tournament. Deadline midnight tomorrow so get them submitted. Remember there is a mandatory performance enhancement screening before and after, so any recreational activities you might indulge yourself in should be postponed until after you lose or when you take the spot as champion this year." Glancing toward Shirou directly, he continued. "First-time competitors will be matched with another first-time competitor and face off in two-on-two engagements. Partnerships are randomized, and letters are being delivered the day after the registration deadline. Any late entries won't be accepted." He turned, slid his fingers along the desk and approached the blackboard. "That was me being brief. You can bring up further questions with Octavia. Now then, let's begin class."
… … …
"Looks you're all good to go, Blade. Cutting things a little close though, aren't you?" Octavia asked, flicking through sheets in her hands with dexterous fingers. He had only been six hours from the deadline, but he had made it regardless. Before he could actually apply, he needed to go through what was essentially a physical with magecraft evaluation on top. It was nothing more than verification that he was fit to fight and he wouldn't drop dead after casting a spell or being punched.
"I've had to balance a lot of stuff since I showed up. Trying to put aside some time to get this in on such short notice was a little difficult." Nervously, he scratched the back of his head and looked away in shame. He wasn't really lying, but he wasn't telling the entire truth either. He didn't have a single thing on his own schedule that needed doing besides eating, sleeping and attending class. One Luviagelita Edelfelt had different ideas. Like a pet on a leash, she had wanted to drag him around just to keep her company through the day. She had managed to snag him right after the end of classes yesterday, so he was hooked. He had only managed to get everything set up because he had stealthily avoided her after class.
"Ah-huh, well, either way, you're in. A letter will be waiting for you in your dorm sometime tomorrow morning, you'll be able to contact your partner through the means provided in writing." She rolled back into place, offering an unnaturally genuine smile. "As for the classes you selected yesterday, your enrollment has been successful and you can now attend the more focused classes whenever you so desire." Extending her hand, she offered what he could only guess to be schedule sheets. "Still a broad spread you've got, quite the academic you are."
"I'm just interested in a lot of different things," he commented, gently taking the papers from her. Just as she said, he had signed up for a good few classes. These specialized courses used one hour long courses instead of two, something Shirou found interesting. With his path now more precise, he had dropped Mineralogy and Creation in exchange for their more detailed brothers. He had eventually decided on Projection, Reinforcement, Item Creation, Alteration and Familiar Manipulation.
The only problem with this was that his eight hour days had grown longer by an hour. However, that slight sacrifice was worth the knowledge. Familiar Manipulation was the only class which he didn't have experience in, but it would prove invaluable if it taught what Shirou believed it would.
Either way, he was entered into the Magus Tournament now, and he would supposedly find more concrete details the following morning. Keeping his head cast down as he walked toward his dorm, a rumbling in his stomach clued him into how hungry he was.
He was sick of pre-packaged, cheaply made food. All he wanted was to cook a decent meal and his room at the Tower was way too small to include even the barest kitchenette. He could have used the communal kitchen in the hall, but something about using a public kitchen seemed to disturb him. Other people touching his cooking equipment? No thanks.
Pulling his head up, he spotted the rapidly-familiarizing sight of a woman in blue. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could he already blurted out the thought in his mind. "Want to go have dinner somewhere?"
Luvia flinched as if he had punched her in the nose, eyes snapping open and mouth parting in surprise. Seconds passed and her cheeks suddenly flooded with blood to turn bright red.
Had he said something insulting?
… … …
… … …
Why were girls so weird? Why did they always think that going out for dinner was some sort of date? Couldn't two hungry people just eat together at the same place?
Shirou hadn't heard the end of things until they actually arrived at a place to eat. Through her complaints and assumptions, Luvia managed to actually recommend a traditional British pub.
"Since you're a foreigner, I figured you would want to try some of the local food. The Tower doesn't have anything of the sort and this is the best place I've found in all of London."
She had dragged him through the tube, down streets and through back alleys until he wasn't even too sure which district of London they were in anymore. Eventually, she led him down a pair of stairs into a sketchy looking speakeasy identified only by a weather-worn wooden sign hanging off a brass fixture. The sign lacked words but featured intricate metal work which displayed the clear image of a fish with grill marks leaping from a body of water. The scales of the fish had been worn by time and water, drawing out the iridescent nature of the metal which added to the beauty.
Something about the dilapidated, dive-like veneer of the entrance actually attracted Shirou for some peculiar reason. It was like the owner didn't mind the worn look, that they were confident the quality within would more than make up for its decrepit appearance.
A thought suddenly reached his mind. "Are you even allowed in here? I thought you couldn't enter bars unless you were over eighteen." That entire statement was laden with hypocrisy. Shirou was sixteen and he had worked at the Copenhagen back in Fuyuki for a couple of years already.
"You don't have to be over eighteen to enter a pub, but if you want to drink alcohol you have to be." She practically slid down the stairs, pushing open the large oak door by its long, vertical brass handle. Based on the heavy wear marks in the center, it was quite well-used.
Stumbling down to follow her, he suddenly felt that it was going to be a long night of deflecting personal questions.
… … …
It wasn't often that curiosity got the better of him, but this was an exceptional case. Ever since Risei Kotomine had died, Kiritsugu had secretly been wondering who would step up to take his place. Kirei had been the obvious next choice, but with him out of the way, who was left?
Kiritsugu looked down the stone pathway toward the church, having paused to take a break before entering. He also took the time to create a few quick-use runes from sizeable stones scattered around the ground. The new priest would definitely be an executor and they would also be the upcoming mediator for the Fifth Grail War. Their objectives and expectations would be clear, they would be formidable and responsible. Even if they were a mediator, there was still the chance for them to be a combatant in the upcoming Grail War.
For that reason alone, it was a good idea to at least see what they might be dealing with. Pushing his shoulder off the concrete pillar, the Magus Killer casually strode down the path and was struck with a sense of deja vu. He had done this once before, hadn't he? The Magus Killer was almost tracing the steps to kill Risei. At least his intentions were a bit purer this time.
Gently pushing open the door, he was graced with the familiar sights and sounds within. Whoever had taken over, they hadn't made any renovations or tried to pull the church into the twenty-first century at all. Candles dimly illuminated the room, and the censer was still in extensive use. Kiritsugu's nose almost burned at the overpowering scent.
The door hadn't been locked, so walk-ins were still being permitted. Then again, it was early in the morning, so such a thing was to be expected. Carefully walking down the red-carpeted aisle, he looked around the seating area while his muffled footsteps echoed throughout the stone building.
He tried to speak, but his throat had a catch from the heavy incense which needed to be cleared. After dealing with that, he called out a simple greeting to which he received no response.
An eerie feeling descended over him then, and he responded by activating his circuits and reinforcing his body. One hand slipped underneath his coat, gripping onto the handle of his Contender while the other casually rested in his pocket, fumbling with some quick-use runes.
The hollow, empty noise that had been present upon entry was silenced. The only companion he had now was tinnitus and the sense of forbearance. This was identical to what the environment felt like an instant before an explosion, abnormal stillness and unnatural silence.
"Oh, hello."
A soft voice from his left sent him reeling to the side, muscles tensing as he spotted a frail-looking girl barely poking her head above the lectern on the altar. Her white hair, the young face and sleepy features: He was watching his daughter awaken from a nap, how coul- He blinked in surprise and the vision disappeared.
No, she was different. This was just an altar woman, clad in robes much too big for her with ashen white hair and piercing yellow eyes that almost seemed to glow in the dim light. She looked just slightly older than Illya, likely eleven or twelve if his estimation skills were still prime. Focusing now, he realized that she looked nothing like his little girl, so why had he...
"I must have fallen asleep after praying, I'm sorry." The girl gently lifted herself from the ground, made a little stretch and placed both hands over her front respectfully. "You have come quite early, is there something I might be able to help you with? Confession is open at any time before and after the sermon as you might know."
The least he could do was recover in a timely matter. Without any sort of threat present, he withdrew his hands from his weaponry and smoothed out his coat to make it appear as if he was doing that all along. "I was looking for the presiding priest in fact, would you happen to know where they are?"
The woman stiffened, clenched her robes in each hand then seemed to relax in the next instance. "You've found her, I'm the current priest." She must have taken note of his visible surprise because she continued to explain. "I have been for a little while now."
Narrowing his eyes, he made a strange noise with his mouth and his muscles tensed. "I apologize for my reaction, I hadn't expected someone so young to be in such a position of responsibility." So the church hadn't employed an enforcer in Risei's stead? Why would they have given such an important position to such a young girl? "It must be incredibly difficult for you."
The girl extended both arms, looking around the church. "It's not a hard job - I guess. I offer sermons and provide respite to those who seek it. I also maintain the church grounds. It's probably a good thing that Fuyuki has a rather diminished number of followers otherwise my inexperience would likely get the better of me." Kiritsugu had expected her to laugh off his words as an over-stressed young person would, but she didn't. In fact, she was entirely serious.
The level of maturity with which this girl held herself reminded him of Rin when he had first spoken with her in her own home. That time seemed so far in the past, but nowhere near as distant as the Fourth Grail War. He was a different person then, that time was a different life of his entirely - a time he would rather forget. "Interesting," he commented, stuffing both hands into the pockets of his coat. "I merely wanted to pop in to express my welcome. While I'm not a religious man, the last priest and I had a close relationship and after hearing of his unfortunate passing, I wished to ensure the church was in capable hands." He paused then, offering a faux-genuine smile. "After speaking with you, I can see you'll be more than capable. You only need some time to adjust to your new surroundings." He made a quarter turn, stopping as he reminded himself to gather an important detail. "If you don't mind my asking, what might your name be?"
There was a brightness that blossomed in the pale yellow eyes and he could have sworn the corners of her lips cracked upwards in the start of a smile. "Caren Hortensia."
… … …
… … ...
Shirou's partner in the tournament was a boy named "Lectra". Although, that wasn't his real name. He was registered officially at the Clock Tower as Landry "Lectra" Hammon. Besides his name, there was surprisingly little provided in the letter. Come to think of it, that might have been an overstatement. Only two other things had been inside. One was the room number where his partner was staying and the other was a rather candid-looking picture of the boy. The information had allowed him to do a little research of his own at the very least.
Lectra's face and features were very juvenile. Small, rounded and often touched with simplistic, childish happiness that confused Shirou. This man was two years older than him? He had sun-bleached brownish hair that spilled over the top of his head in an absolute mess, descending to his shoulders and partly concealing deep cerulean eyes. He wore blue jeans and a baggy black hoodie which was missing the pull strings. On the chest sat a coloured graphic of three different cats sitting in a bowl of ramen. At least, that was what Shirou believed it was trying to be if the boiled egg, garnishing and noodles were any indication.
When Shirou first found the letter containing his partner's information, he had made a point of going straight to him as soon as he had enough time so they could establish a strategy. If they were to fight side by side, gaining an understanding over what each of them could do was paramount.
Shirou had come after class at an hour that he expected to be reasonable. Upon knocking on Lectra's door however, it looked like he had just rolled out of bed - at five in the afternoon. His hair was strung about in every direction, he was in the middle of rubbing his eyes and he wasn't even wearing pants. A visual trace revealed details a picture simply couldn't. He was a meagre five foot six and a half, near one hundred twenty-five pounds. All in all, a strong enough breeze could blow him over. Upon opening the door, Lectra blinked and visibly looked Shirou over before shouting loud enough to make the redhead flinch.
"That outfit is super cool!" The pitch and inflection of his voice seemed at least three years younger than his real age. At the very least it matched his appearance. It was high and expressive, almost to the point where Shirou could have mistaken him for a girl if he closed his eyes.
Recovering from the initial flinch, he looked himself over as if disbelieving of the compliment. The only part of his outfit which Shirou didn't like was the cape. It was too long and got in the way of everything, but such was the cost of being anonymous. "You really think so?"
Lectra nodded enthusiastically, placing both hands on his hips. "One hundred percent. You look like a thief or assassin from a fantasy book or something!"
Shirou reached up to scratch the back of his neck. "I think this was made to scare people off more than just look cool," he admitted, curious about what Bazett would say if she were there.
"Nah, it's not scary at all. It would need more spikes, angles and stuff to be threatening." The eccentric kid made wild picture frame motions with his hands and partly stuck out his tongue as if designing a new outfit in his head. "But anyway, what are you here for, cool dude?"
Casually, Shirou moved the letter in his hand into view. "It just so happens you and I are partners."
Lectra's eyes bugged so far out of his skull that Shirou was worried they would pop out. His whole body stiffened before snapping into an astonished stance with his arms to his side. "Someone as cool looking as you is my partner? Aw man, this is gonna be awesome! I signed up just so that I could see all the cool spells everyone else knows. I never expected to win!"
Shirou raised his eyebrows in concern. "I don't know if you should be so confident before we've even seen the first competitors. Speaking of, I think we should take the time between now and the first fight to train."
"Train?"
This guy was going to be absolutely worthless in a fight, wasn't he? "Yeah, train. You show me what you can do, I'll show you what I can do and we establish tactics from there. We'll need to work as a team if we want to win this tournament and we don't have much time before the first rounds begin." In fact, there was hardly three full days before the first duel and now.
The boy's surprise deepened further. "You mean right now?"
"Of course. As far as I know there are duelling arenas throughout the Tower. You can show me what you've got and we'll go from there." Lectra's eyes widened at the prospect of fighting. Whether that was because of nerves, fear or just plain confusion was entirely unknown.
… … …
For once, it wasn't Shirou who was rolling along the ground in pain. Letting out a controlled breath as steam ambiently wisped off his fist, Shirou stood tall. "You left your entire core open. Anyone with the slightest amount of combat experience could overpower you."
The boy coughed, groaning and holding onto his chest as he pulled himself onto his hands and knees. After a few heaving breaths, he calmed down enough to speak. "I told you I was never any good at self-defence, I'm only good at spiritual evocation and even then I don't have enough money to purchase the ingredients I need." With some obvious effort, the boy stood and rubbed at his still aching body. "And this is totally unfair! You're not even using magecraft, you're just punching me!"
Shirou was smiling absently under his scarf, enjoying the resolve being displayed. Merely standing after taking a hit like that was enough to tell Shirou that Lectra would put in his all. "Plenty of magi use physical combat techniques boosted with magecraft. Very few are strictly ranged combatants. Any formidable magus will use weapons rather than raw magecraft. If you aren't comfortable with attacking up close, then try to keep me pinned down at a distance. Maximize the amount of space between us to buy yourself time." As the boy seemed to prepare himself, Shirou raised his fists. "In the tournament, I'll try to protect you as best I can but in the off chance they slip by me, it's best that you know what to do. Essentially, buy yourself time until I can bail you out."
The boy nodded, grimacing as his motions sent pain through his form. "A-alright, you seem like you know your stuff so I'll try to follow." Shirou's smile deepened. It was nice being on the other side of a sparring beatdown once in a while.
… … …
Lectra was an all-around skilled magus. With one or two line arias in French, he could create large balls of destabilized ether. While they appeared harmless at first, their blast radius was rather large. What made them truly threatening, was their "mana leaching" effect. Like a parasite, the blast wave of the attack absorbed mana and transferred it to the caster. Any excess energy could then be transferred into whatever Lectra's hand touched next. Like his next projectile. Lectra had developed several types of these ether grenades. One was the normal contact explosive type, another operated much like a smoke grenade with painful, concealing vapours which persisted after detonation. Another type was a cluster bomb variation which released dozens of smaller segments before exploding all at once. All of these grenades could be set to detonate on a timer or on contact.
Lectra revealed his element to be ether, just like Illya. Ether was considered a "neutral" element with no obvious strength or weakness. It was also said to be the most versatile element and after seeing what Illya was able to do, Shirou was more than convinced. Lectra himself had a couple abilities using nothing more than his raw element. Where his versatility really shined was in his familiar construction. The variety he could create depended only on his imagination and the resources he had access to. Typical familiar construction required a medium to load magic circuits onto before the familiar could actually work as intended.
However, when the familiar was created using pure ether as a source, this magical energy could be utilized as circuitry itself. That feature alone allowed Lectra to create familiars purely out of energy. Inefficient, weak and unstable as they were, they still provided a distraction, even for Shirou. Just like his grenades, Lectra's familiars also siphoned mana upon contact. After learning more about each other and their respective abilities, Shirou established some tactics they could use and codewords that would call for them. When the two decided it was enough for one day, both partners were feeling significantly more confident about their odds.
Exiting the training room, Shirou nearly walked straight into a particularly aggravated Luvia. "What kind of guy sets up a bounded field in a Clock Tower arena?" Her eyes snapped onto the shorter man behind him, widening before her body snapped into a more prim and proper posture. "And who might your friend be?" Watching the rapid shift in her mannerisms was amusing to Shirou. So she put on a facade at school just like Rin. The similarities between the two were growing in number. Even though they acted the same, they would never be the same in his mind.
Memories of those last few seconds at the airport flickered back to him, bringing a warming sensation to his chest. In the same instance, a harsh mental scolding resounded within his head. He couldn't think about Rin like that. If he did, it would hurt Sakura. He still needed to play things off like he was a mindless idiot. The only way he would respond was if one of the girls came right out about their affections to him, even then he could play the fool enough to dissuade them without hurting their feelings.
"The kind of guy who likes keeping his secrets as secrets," Shirou calmly responded, crossing both arms over his chest. "Don't you have anything better to do than try to eavesdrop on your opponents?"
Luvia snorted, then laughed with one hand resting on her chest. "Opponents? You think that the two of you will make it out of the first-year qualifiers?" Her laugh deepened but the noise budged his own face none. Obviously, she found the premise quite humorous.
"You might be surprised, but Lectra here is a powerful mage. You should watch yourself because he might be fighting you for the spot as this year's champion." He was lying through his teeth and the confused noise from behind revealed that even Lectra didn't believe him.
The woman in blue set both hands on her hips, making a pompous "hmph" as she looked between them both. "I don't know if you're insulting my ability by claiming I would lose or complimenting me by considering I might make it to the finals."
"Why are the two of you talking like I don't even exist," Lectra whined, trying to shove Shirou but failing miserably. With his hands against the larger boy's shoulder, it looked like he was trying to force over a wall which refused to budge. "I exist, you know!"
Not even moving his eyes to the distraction, Shirou continued to glare at the princess-pretender. Leaning forward to encroach on her space, he donned a threatening tone. "If you have doubts about yourself, I guess you're not that much of a threat."
He watched her eyes sharpen into daggers, brows furrowing and lips creasing into a scowl. Within those burgundy eyes, a blazing fire sprouted out of nowhere. She looked prepared to remove his head from his shoulders. "Are you calling me weak?"
He shrugged, smirk beginning to grow under his scarf. He never had the luxury of being the teaser, now he understood why the girls back home did it. Wearing this outfit was dangerous, he could let the sarcastic, condescending side of himself that lied in the back of his mind out without consequence. "Your words, not mine." Shirou could actually see the temperature of her face rise as the blood rushed to her cheeks.
"Why, you!" The hands at her hips shot downward, clenching into fists. She looked about ready to throw one of those hands right into his face in fact. Her eyes darted to the inside of the room before landing back on him. "If you think I'm so weak, why don't we go for a round then? Or are you too scared to hit a girl?"
"I'm not afraid to hit anyone when it's called for, but I'm tired and I wouldn't want to give you an advantage in the tournament." As if to exemplify his exhaustion, Shirou genuinely yawned, something which was contagious enough to infect both Lectra and Luvia.
In the middle of her yawn, Luvia tried to get some words out that Shirou barely interpreted as: "Don't you dare take this as my agreement."
"No matter what you say, I'm not fighting tonight, Luvia. Besides, we've both got to wake up early for class tomorrow and I imagine Lectra would like to get some sleep too." For the first time since their conversation began, Lectra was noticed and the boy's eyes seemed to sparkle. That alone was enough to scare Shirou into looking back at Luvia.
The girl in blue made an annoyed hum, stamping one foot lightly before easing the tension in her body. "Fine. Even if I do manage to convince you into fighting, knowing you wouldn't even want to put in your all makes it boring." Turning on her heel and throwing her hand over her shoulder, the girl spoke in a royal tone. "Prepare yourself next time, because then I won't be so forgiving."
A few seconds passed, then Lectra's voice reminded Shirou that he was was still there, and still trying to topple him no less. "I guess when you're strong and look cool you get to deal with girls like that, huh?"
Offering a strange glance, Shirou couldn't help but laugh. "I've dealt with women a lot worse than her, trust me."
… … …
… … …
Rin sneezed loudly in the middle of the street, blinking several times as she recovered from the event. She was actually lucky that she hadn't dropped the large wooden box in her hands. Shrugging it off as some air impurities or pollen, she continued walking toward the Emiya household. It had only been a few days since Shirou left and she had absolutely nothing but spare time on her hands without him to distract her.
Oh, who was she kidding?
He was the only thing that had given her something to do. She had gone through her father's entire library, she had conducted countless experiments, she had mastered all of the Tohsaka hidden magecraft beyond the mysteries her father couldn't crack and she had even developed her own gems. They were new and incredibly unstable, but that instability could prove beneficial in a combat situation. In fact, with Shirou and Illya helping her along, she estimated that her progress as a first-rate magus had been vastly accelerated.
One of the main hindrances in magecraft was the lack of proper, willing test subjects. Whether it be lack of trust or fear of the Association, many magi refused to involve others in their miracles. But Rin had grown to know the entire Emiya family over the years. Shirou was trustworthy to a fault, Illya was too apathetic and carefree to use any knowledge against her and Kiritsugu…
Well, Kiritsugu was the only one she had issues about - but he was never involved with her magecraft studies anyway, so the threat was still minimal. Regardless of his true intentions, she had his livelihood in her hands. At any moment, she could call the Mage's Association on him, should things ever get to that point.
Memories of Elizabeth Velum at her door that night weeks ago were still fresh. Kiritsugu was known to manipulate everyone around him for his own personal gain. While Rin had always put her faith in the Magus Killer, that comment had broken it slightly.
So the Tohsaka had devised a test. A simple test really, something given to toddlers and potential troublemakers alike. She would give him a puzzle box, and instruct him not to touch it. The box itself, the one in her hands at the moment in fact, had been left to her by her departed father. It had four complex puzzles and intricate mechanisms she had yet to crack. What made things worse was that the bounded fields outlying the box's structure was that of a self-destruct type mechanism. Should anyone or anything tamper with the box or try to gain access through magecraft, it would collapse and destroy the contents.
So solving the puzzles was mandatory. Still, Rin had a way to see inside the container without having to worry about any of that. The only problem was, he was a few thousand miles away. She had never made him trace the box simply because she had never told him about it. She had been patiently trying to crack the code and had determined the solution to half of the puzzles but that patience was wearing thin. Rin just wanted to see if all her effort was even worth it.
As for her test with Kiritsugu, the bounded field was developed using her father's magic and while she couldn't remove it or its effects, she could layer her own field over the top in such a way that the two appeared as one. Even to Kiritsugu, a man known to break bounded fields like glass, it would seem identical. Her additional field would merely detect if there was a foreign object within its space, as in, a nosey former freelancer who wanted to deceive her.
Walking up the familiar steps to the Emiya household, Rin roughly slid the door open with her hip. After years of coming and going, she no longer had to knock and wait for an answer. "Kiritsugu, it's Rin!" she called out, carefully removing her shoes. "I've got a slight favour to ask of you."
… … …
The girl briefly explained the premise of the box, its origins, her attempts to open it and the bounded field surrounding it. She specifically instructed the man not to touch it or attempt to solve the puzzles at any point. She was merely leaving it here for Shirou to trace when he returned from Britain. Kiritsugu was very accommodating, surprisingly. With a smile, he listened and nodded along with her instructions, carefully taking the box and storing it in the stone shed in the backyard.
"It will be here until Shirou returns. I've placed it within my safe so that no prying hands can get inside." Casually, he slipped Illya a glare. The girl in question whined, claiming that it was "only one time" before huffing angrily.
Rin's mind took the time to point out how clear it was that Kiritsugu was able to be trusted. If he put it in his safe - the safe not even Shirou knew the combination to - Kiritsugu was sure to leave it alone as instructed. "I'm glad to hear it's so well protected, if I ever think that I've solved the puzzle before he gets back, I'll return."
"Well, you know you're welcome in my home any time." The man settled at the table, wrapping his hands around a small coffee cup. As he sat down, Missy entered the room and expressed her greetings.
"Ms. Tohsaka, it's been a few days since you last visited. I had nearly begun to think that you only visited for Shirou." The woman closed her eyes softly and smiled. "Although after hearing what Ms. Einzbern tells me, I can certainly see why." As Rin felt her face grow in temperature, a chuckling and girlish giggle sounded from around her.
For one of the few times in her life, Rin couldn't find the words to say, deciding to lower her head so that her face could be hidden. "Missy is just teasing. In any case, it would be nice if you stayed for dinner, Rin." The old man offered a warm smile, but Rin couldn't quite tell if it was genuine or not. How could a man like this be manipulating her? Taking her hesitation as a cue, he tried to convince her further. "Sakura is coming over as well and she has been experimenting with her cooking recently."
A single clap of hands from the side drew Rin's attention. It was Missy, looking quite pleased with herself. "Yes, yes! Ms. Matou has been trying her hand at quite a number of western dishes, you have to try them."
Three sets of eyes were staring at her waiting for her response. Each one of them was silently asking that she stay. "Fine, but it couldn't possibly be as good as one of Shirou's meals." What else could she possibly say? Decline and disappoint everyone around her?
… … …
… … ...
Shirou leapt from his bed in the middle of the night. Unbridled terror ran through his veins. On reactions alone, his circuits activated and swords appeared in each hand. He was fighting an opponent he couldn't see, and the unfortunate part was that they were winning. The sound of grinding metal echoed in his ears, but after a few seconds - it suddenly stopped. His blades weren't hitting any resistance, and his eyes realized that nobody was in the room.
He'd had a dream, a nightmare. It wasn't the usual nightmare of trudging through the ruins of Fuyuki after the Great Fire, this one was different. His memories of the dream were slipping away with each passing instant like water down a drain. Every fact and feature that he remembered was fading. This dream had made him remember the last dream he had, where he… All of those memories had already faded away, becoming an obscure shadow. What remained were the barest fragments of his most recent dream.
In this dream, Shirou was in that world again. He was fighting some unstoppable, unseen force that pushed him to his absolute limit at every encounter. They were-
He was-
What was he thinking about?
He had been trying to focus on something, but he couldn't remember what that even was anymore. Shirou was panting, fists clenched tight around the handle of… Even those were gone. The blades that had been so familiar to him, the weapons he had just been using, no longer existed. He couldn't even recall what they looked like. His hands were still locked around hilts which weren't even there. Opening his hands hesitantly, he looked at the skin inside. There were depressions from where he had been gripping handles, but he couldn't even remember ever holding anything.
Both hands clenched into fists with enough pressure to cause searing pain. Was this all due to his reality marble? Shortly after activating his reality marble for the first time, he had forgotten a vital dream. Just like this time, he could only remember that his dream had been important, nothing more. Was he exchanging sanity for power? Was his mind just tricking him? Or had he unlocked some part of himself that now threatened to destabilize his entire personality?
The last possibility was the most concerning. He might have been broken from the start, and only now it decided to surface. Drops of blood trickled from around his fingers, dripping onto the floor. Would he lose control of himself and need to be collared or shackled like some wild beast? Hazy memories of that dimly lit basement in Fuyuki came to him in parts. He had heartlessly pulverized a man because they had hurt Illya. He had mercilessly killed two freelance agents and an enforcer to protect his family. What if that person was what he truly was inside? No Hero of Justice killed in order to protect their loved ones. No matter what, they prevented death of all types. Then again, he wasn't really a Hero of Justice, was he?
Shirou's hands were shaking in a complex blend of emotions. There was no way to possibly define what he was feeling, but he knew it was enough to prevent him from ever getting back to sleep. Looking at his alarm clock, he took note that class was still two hours away. At the very least, he could get his head cleared before that began. Seamlessly projecting clothes onto his body, the redhead quickly left the room for some fresh air. As he walked, he considered everything he knew about himself.
Believe it or not this little existential wake-up blurb is my favourite part in the entire chapter. Next chapter features more Clock Tower shenanigans and the beginning of the Magus Tournament. As well as the introduction of a few new characters none of you will be expecting. You thought Luvia was bad, you haven't seen anything yet.
Lectra is fun to write, but the next character is going to be even more so. This new character will be a canon character, so if you want help in trying to figure out what to write for a review, try to guess who the next character (or characters) might be.
So favourite, follow and leave a review please! I love hearing from you all, no matter how simple you might think your words are - they mean so much to me. Also, please give some thanks to my Beta. They've helped out a lot and they've gathered an incredible amount of information regarding London for me!
