(A/N)

THIS IS A SIDE STORY.

For the record, I blame fallacies for the idea as a completely different explanation for why Archer is summoned.

I didn't want to get into it too much, possibly leaving it as sequel bait, but I decided to leave it on its own and provide the first chapter here, preferably to never return to it again unless I feel like I can't write the main story for shit.

Thanks to Fallacies for the idea.

Thanks to Fluflesnufalphagus and Hecturnus for betaing.

"And now for something completely different."

- Archer

Paradise.

That was the only fitting word that could describe the world around him.

Fields of blushy, pink flowers stretching towards a baby blue horizon.

Streams clearer than an alpine spring.

Obelisks of crumbling stone suspended gently above them.

An effeminate boy laid there on leaves of grass, feeling the soft ground under his fingertips.

A dream?

"Now this is certainly odd."

A mellifluous voice roused the boy out of his reverie.

"I only meant to be deliberately cryptic – as is my wont – to one person today, but it seems you've been overlooked by me and that scary lady in the meantime. My my, you're a lucky one, aren't you?"

Lolling his head to the side, the boy took in the beautiful man in content silence.

"That you are here would only mean… I see. I see!" The man chuckled, white locks bobbing underneath his cowl. "That certainly is one way to get around her own defenses and restrictions, isn't it? Ingenious. Roundabout, true, but desperate times call for desperate measures… though I wonder if they really expect your servant to be able to do anything substantial."

Serenely the man carefully gathered his wonderfully silken robes and crouched beside him, taking care to balance the braided, multicolored staff in his hands. Distantly, the boy noted a lone flower sprouting insistently between his index and middle finger.

"... You remind me of someone, you know? Another bitter, bitter man. Her son, to be exact. You're too adorable to have ever been related to him… though I admit his sister is also too precious for this world. Who am I to tell? It's a shame you were born centuries too late, I think my pupil would have benefited from having someone like you to guide her. Goodness knows that man needs a friend to be miserable with."

He rested his slender fingers against the little boy's cheeks, his impish grin growing serious in but an instant.

"... we have gods," the man mused, "we have knights, we have a dragon, we have queens, and now it seems we'll have a precocious child and his servant to go along with it. I wouldn't have wanted to involve anyone else in this little tapestry, but if you insist on poking your nose around…" the wry smile was back, "this story is turning out to be quite the spectacle, isn't it?"

He opened his mouth to speak, yet he suddenly felt as though his throat was stuffed with cotton wool and that it could do little but croak as the man lifted a finger to his lips.

And at once, his eyes grew heavy.

"Good luck, boy. Keep that pride of yours in check, tell your servant to mind his quips… who knows? You might just give another person a happy ending by the end of it all."

Like Socrates moments after drinking hemlock, he could no longer feel his legs. Soon after, he could not move a finger, so tired he was. And as the numbness traveled above his chest, using whatever strength that remained he rolled his head back to face the skies and clouds of faded pinks and blues.

The man laughed, a smile too mischievous to be soft aimed at him.

"May we meet again where only those free of sin may pass."

Ciel Phantomhive awoke with a start.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, master."

Blinking, he removed his head from where he leaned on the carriage's velvet interior.

"We're not moving." Ciel noted dumbly, stifling a yawn.

"We've arrived some minutes ago," Archer explained, taking his eyes off the book in his laps. "You seemed tired enough that I decided giving you some minutes of shut-eye would be worth the delay."

Slowly the fog lifted.

Sighing, the Earl of Phantomhive wiped a trail of drool from his mouth. "Right. Let's get this over with. I want to head back to the townhouse as soon as possible."

Nodding once, Archer unlocked the carriage door, holding it open for his master as Ciel gingerly stepped out to a clear London night.

"Thanks for seeing me on such short notice, Guv'nor."

"I was in the area. This is no trouble at all, Captain." Ciel Phantomhive shook his hand, taking a seat in front of the desk. "How's business?"

"Mm, can't rightfully complain, can I?" The gruff sailor packed sourleaf tobacco onto the Calabash as he spoke. "We've just finished unloading the latest shipment. Gum arabic, palm oil, sugarcane… I have the manifests and bills of sale here in case ye want to check for yerselves."

"I'm sure that won't be necessary, captain. As long as all of it reaches the right factories, I'm content to take a hands-off approach."

That the factory foremen would be the ones doing the accounting for inventory was left unsaid.

"You are sailing off tomorrow morning, are you not?"

"Yep." There came a sharp crack and a sudden whiff of sulfur as a match was struck. "Back to Calais, by which point one of our ships will have crossed the canal. I expect us to be back in a fortnight."

"Good. That's good."

The captain puffed on his pipe, pleased as punch, watching as trails of smoke bloomed and twisted under the warm glow of a lamp that stank of whale oil.

"... I've got a problem, Guv'nor. Well, the beginning of one, but I thought ye should know as soon as possible."

"Yes, you've said as much in the telegram." Ciel leaned forward, resting his chin on his cane. "What is it?"

"I got a crewmate. Oriental. Quiet type, keeps to himself, came to Britain some years ago to learn more about our tech to bring home, ended up working for us. Keeps saying it's temporary until he can move on to better things." The captain scoffed. "Temporary has lasted for years, now."

"And what has your crewmate done that requires my attention?"

"There's the rub. He might not have done anything yet," the captain looked troubled, removing the Calabash from his lips, "but I've seen the way he's been looking at some of our higher profile stuff. Paintings. Art pieces."

"Captain." Ciel frowned. "I can't very well punish someone for looking at the goods funny. Unless he's actually done something illegal there's nothing I can personally do about it beyond giving a stern warning."

"Yeah, about that…" the captain muttered darkly, "it would seem he's gone missing."

The Earl of Phantomhive blinked. "Missing."

"AWOL. He didn't show up to work at the docks when it was time to load our goods for the next trip. I interrogated the crew, and it took threats of beatings and firings for one of them to admit that he'd snuck off to some mansion in the middle of the night."

"What?!"

"Yeah. The one that formerly belonged to the Kirks in the outskirts of London. Long vacated, but still there, unsold." He muttered, returning the pipe to his mouth with a satisfying puff. "Crewman heard him talk about some art piece that caught his eye, a canvas depicting that Shakesperean bint who'd gone off her rocker and drowned herself."

"Ophelia." Ciel corrected him tiredly.

"That's right." The captain nodded eagerly. "The crewman was told to keep his absence a secret in exchange for a pittance. Course, I flogged and ejected him from the ships at once when I found out."

"That's all well and good, but what about the one who left?"

"The thing is, we don't exactly know where he is. He just fucked around and left. I knew that oriental slit-eyed troglodyte was up to no good the moment I saw him-" the captain trailed off, pipe drooping slightly as his eyes roamed to the other occupant of the room. "Meaning no offense." He added lamely.

"None taken." Archer muttered.

"So, as I was sayin, we've got one of our crewmen staging a possible burglary, but he hasn't come back to my ship. As far as I know, the plan was to stow it away and sell it when we get back, but I've checked his usual haunts. Nothing. Going consensus is, if he did venture off to commit a break in, that fucker never left the manor."

Ciel Phantomhive chewed on this tidbit in silence.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention, captain." The Earl finally said, standing up. "I'll take care of this from here."

"Course, boss." The captain tipped his hat as master and servant alike made to exit the office. "Shall I assume he'll no longer be working with us?"

"You can consider him permanently indisposed." He called over his shoulder. "I'll deliver the severance check myself."

The door swung gently shut, and the captain shook his head.

"Scary kid."

The gate was rusty and overgrown, but Archer ignored it entirely, leaping over it with his master in his arms. Together, they examined the garden overrun by weeds, eventually finding fresh racks that led to the door to the manor.

"Just to be clear," Archer confirmed as they made their way to the manor's entrance, "you don't actually want me to kill him?"

"If he is here, I'm merely going to make an example of him." Ciel muttered, swinging his walking stick with every step. "Give him a severance check. Maybe lop off an arm or two at most. The last thing I need is to have it come to light that one of my employees is a burglar."

"Fine words coming from someone who has a drug dealer and triad head as a member of his company's board."

"Even Lau knows not to renege on our agreement." The Earl muttered as the two arrived on the steps of the manor, Archer scaling them two at a time. "He doesn't skim, he obeys, he invests, he leaves his money laundering for the clinics and parlors he fronts."

"Must be nice."

"What is?"

"Being judge, jury and executioner."

Ciel poked him with his walking stick.

Motioning for him to keep quiet, Archer tested the door's winged handles, blinking when he found them unlocked.

"Do you sense anyone?" Ciel asked.

"... not yet." Archer frowned. "If he is hiding here, he's doing a remarkable job keeping quiet."

Archer turned to his master, brows raised. "Ready? Or do you need another minute to fix up your resting bitch face?"

The Earl of Phantomhive scowled.

"Yeah." Archer gave him a thumbs up. "That's perfect. That'd definitely send him running for the hills. Let's go."

Without further preamble, the servant kicked the door open.

"Hello?! Anyone hooome? Mr. Nakamura, we can do this the easy way or the hard… way…" He trailed off.

Ciel Phantomhive blinked.

It was as though they stepped into a completely monochrome world. The stairs, the floors, the ceilings, the lights, even the picture frames were all clearly divided up in whites and blacks. A thick layer of dust coated everything in sight.

Gently the servant crouched down, frowning as he examined the floor of checkered stone.

"Master." He jerked his chin. "Someone was here, alright. These tracks are recent."

Ciel leaned over to take a closer look.

"Yes… but those prints also lead back outside."

"Outside?" Archer furrowed his brows. "That's odd. I don't seem to recall any tracks leading back to the gates."

Behind them, the door, buoyed by its hinges and the impact of Archer's kick, clicked mournfully shut.

The two shared a frown.

"I'm still not hearing anyone in the manor." The butler said slowly.

"Still." Ciel Phantomhive sighed, putting a gloved hand against his mouth. "I guess we should do our due diligence and take a look around, see if a-anything's been… taken-"

The Earl threw his head back and sneezed.

"God damn it." Gruffly, Ciel accepted his butler's proffered handkerchief and blew his nose. "All this dust is going to be the death of me."

"Use your inhaler if it gets worse." Archer muttered, looking around. "Come on. Let's start with the ground floor and get it over with. This place gives me the creeps."

The door creaked open, and two heads stuck themselves in.

"It appears to be a library, master. Ransacked and dilapidated, like the other rooms." Archer muttered, scanning the book strewn about.

"Unsurprising. The Kirks were writers." Ciel pointed out as he made his way to a shelf. "Maybe Nakamura was interested in a particular manuscript."

"Never heard of them." Archer blinked.

"I don't blame you. They weren't of any literary significance." The Earl of Phantomhive pulled out a thick tome, wincing as he blew the dust away. "Though it would seem they preferred being historians."

Curiously, Archer headed over to the termite-riddled desk of Honduran rosewood, gingerly picking up a sheaf of paper – vellum, he realized – and read.

THEY are ƒaid to have ariƒtocraticall Rulers and Laws, but no diƒcernible Religion, Love, or Devotion towards God, the bleƒƒed Maker of all: they diƒappear whenever they hear his Name invocked, or the Name of JESUS, at which all do bow willinglie, or by conƒtraint, that dwell above or beneath within the Earth, nor can they act ought at that Time after hearing of that ƒacred Name. The TABHAISVER, or Seer, that correƒponds with this kind of Familiars, can bring them with a Spel to appear to himƒelfe or others when he pleaƒes, as readily as Endor Witch to thoƒe of her Kind. He tells, they are ever readieƒt to go on hurtfull Errands, but ƒeldome will be the Meƒƒengers of great Good to Men. He is not terrified with their Sight when he calls them, but ƒeeing them in a ƒurpryze (as often he does) frights him extreamly. And glaid would he be quite of ƒuch, for the hideous Spectacles ƒeen among them; as the torturing of ƒome Wight, earneƒt ghoƒtly ƒtairing Looks, Skirmiƒhes, and the like.

Frowning at the archaic speech, he moved on, running a finger where the gall had seeped and corroded the membrane of sheepskin.

THESE Subterraneans have Controverƒies, Doubts, Diƒputs, Feuds, and Siding of Parties; there being ƒome Ignorance in all Creatures, and the vaƒteƒt created Intelligences not compaƒƒing all Things. As to Vice and Sin, whatever their own Laws be, ƒure, according to ours, and Equity, natural, civil, and reveal'd, they tranƒgreƒs and commit Acts of Injuƒtice, and Sin, by what is above ƒaid, as to their ƒtealling of Nurƒes to their Children, and that other ƒort of Plaginiƒm in catching our Children away, (may ƒeem to heir ƒome Eƒtate in thoƒe inviƒible Dominions,) which never returne. For the Inconvenience of their Succubi, who tryƒt with Men, it is abominable; but for Swearing and Intemperance, they are not obƒerved ƒo ƒubjct to thoƒe Irregularities, as to Envy, Spite, Hypocracie, Lieing, and Diƒƒimulation.

"Find anything, Emiya?"

Archer looked up.

"A load of hogwash." He answered.

"Hm?"

"It appears that Mr. Kirk was a folklorist," he went on, passing the manuscripts to an inquisitive master, "one that took it upon himself to reconcile myths and legends with present-day understandings of God and religion. I will say, though, it escapes me as to what the hell he's talking about when he goes on and on about these…" Archer squinted, "subterraneans."

Ciel Phantomhive read on, brows raised.

"Well," he said slowly, eyes roving across the flowing script, "I can tell you right now what they are."

"What?"

The Earl of Phantomhive smiled.

"Fairies."

Archer blinked.

"Seriously?"

Ciel tapped the script in his hands and read on.

"As our religion obliges us not to make a peremptory and curious search into these – I can't read this word, I'll move on – histories of all ages give as many plain examples of occurrences as make a modest inquiry not contemptible. How much is written of pygmies, fairies, nymphs, sirens, apparitions, which though not the tenth part true, yet could not spring from nothing. Even English authors relate of Barry Island, in Glamorganshire and Glywysing-"

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"Glywysing, Emiya. It's a county in Wales."

Archer made an absent noise of non-understanding, as one would when confronted with the Welsh vernacular.

Ciel cleared his throat.

"In Glamorganshire, that laying your ear into a cleft of the rocks, blowing of bellows, striking of hammers, clashing of armor, filing of iron, will be heard distinctly ever since Merlin enchanted those subterranean wights to a solid manual forging of arms to Aurelius Ambrosius and his Brittans till he returned, which him being killed in a battle and not coming to loose the knot, these active Vulcans are there tied to a perpetual labor."

"Aurelius Ambrosius?" Archer repeated, feeling lost.

"He was a king, Emiya." Ciel explained patiently. "Though if you are a believer of Arthurian legend, he was also the brother of Uther, and Ambrosius was also a pseudonym referring to somebody else."

"Who?"

There was a faraway look in the Earl's eyes.

"Merlin."

"Merlin?" Archer blinked. "That's odd. I was reliably informed by Artoria that Merlin retreated back into Avalon, she said nothing at all about him being killed in battle. Then again, she has no reason to-"

Archer stopped.

Ciel stared.

Archer closed his mouth shut.

Ciel stared and stared.

Archer looked at his shoes.

Ciel opened his mouth – thought better of it – and closed it.

And stared.

Archer coughed.

"I-I mean," he cleared his throat, sheepishly running a hand through his hair. "R-right. That Merlin. Did you know that he was supposedly an incubus-"

"She?" Ciel repeated, incredulous.

"D-Did I say she? I didn't. Artoria is- I mean, Arthur-"

"Emiya." The Earl of Phantomhive pressed. "What the hell."

The servant sighed.

It seemed they were going to have this conversation, one way or the other.

"... I'd really rather not talk about this in detail," he began, "but suffice to say, we have differing accounts as to the legend of King Arthur."

"Quite." Ciel scoffed. "Shall we start with the glaring fact that where you come from, King Arthur's a woman?"

"... she was." He admitted.

"And you've met her before." Ciel pressed.

"Once." He seemed reluctant to divulge any more than necessary. "Many lifetimes ago."

"And I suppose in your reality, Guinevere's a man to go along with it?"

Archer felt uncomfortable. "No. Guinevere remains very much a woman."

Ciel frowned, tilting his head, and the servant could almost see the inner cogs in his head turn rapidly with this bit of new information.

"... I'm sorry, I've got to ask." He finally spoke. "Does Mordred not exist in your legends, or?"

"She does." Archer confirmed.

The Earl of Phantomhive closed his eyes, raising his head heavenward, counting to ten.

"She." He repeated.

"Yes." Archer confirmed.

"... I'm just going to table that for another time, for my own sanity," Ciel raised a finger, sighing, "but how exactly did Arthur father a child if he lacked the necessary… equipment?"

Archer looked away.

"Merlin grew her a penis to do her duties."

…

Yeah, that proved a step too far.

Something seemed to snap within the Earl's psyche, and when he removed his hand from his vision, Archer distantly noted he seemed to have aged ten years.

"You're having me on, aren't you." He accused, almost desperately. "Tell me you're just taking the piss out of me."

Distantly, Archer shook his head, wishing that he was.

"I had pretty much the same reaction as you when she told me the first time." He admitted. "But I've never actually met Merlin, so I can't confirm the veracity of her statements."

The Earl gave a short, incredulous laugh. "Yeah, because that makes any of this normal."

Archer pursed his lips. "I don't know what to tell you, master. You never asked about any of this before, and I didn't think any of this was important."

The Earl of Phantomhive conceded he had a point.

"This… Artoria," He weighed the foreign name in his lips, shaking his head. "What did she say about him? Enlighten me."

Archer crossed his arms.

"Well, he was one of the greatest mages that ever lived," he recounted, smiling fondly at the memory of him and Saber sitting on the veranda sipping tea, "though with the way he acted you'd never actually believe him when he claims to be one. He's undoubtedly a good person who wants to see humanity reach a happy ending, but by all accounts, he's a troublesome fellow. Immature, in need of a handler at all times, sometimes maddeningly unhelpful. Also a womanizer. In her words, Merlin was a philandering pansy of a prodigious pishogue. Don't get me wrong, Artoria respected him greatly, but she was always of the opinion that she would have been saved a lot of trouble had he been less mischievous. What with pursuing women, entering people's dreams when they're asleep for shits and giggles, he was the source of many a headache in Camelot."

Ciel blinked.

"Dreams, huh."

"Yes. As I mentioned before, Merlin was an incubus and fed on people's emotions and dreams."

Archer nodded towards the papers. "Does it say anything else about him?"

The Earl scanned the sheafs of vellum in his hands. "Just some claptrap about what's required to be able to see these subterraneans. Kirk calls it the second sight."

"That's actually not entirely baseless." Archer admitted.

"Pardon?"

"Fairies can't normally be seen." Archer lectured. "You would need to be in possession of certain mystic eyes to be able to comprehend phenomena that can't normally be processed by the human brain."

Ciel gave him a knowing look. "Eyes… you mean like what-"

"Yes."

"Well, can she-"

"No." Archer shook his head. "I'm afraid mystic eyes are several degrees above her paygrade."

Ciel mulled on that for a moment.

"Shame." He finally said, setting the papers aside with a huff before looking around.

"You know," Ciel muttered, "I've been thinking about this for a while, but there's something very odd about this room."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't quite put my finger on it." Ciel went on, inspecting a slashed painting in the corner. "But there's something that's not quite right."

Archer frowned. "I'm not sure what you're seeing. Beyond being rotten and dilapidated, this all seems-"

The servant blinked as something occurred to him.

The room was conspicuously missing something.

Alarmed, Archer moved with large strides to the shelves that aligned the wall. "Move away, master."

"What are you doing?" Ciel demanded, even as he moved to obey.

The servant ignored him in favor of putting two hands onto the back of the shelf, hurling it to the floor with a grunt.

CRASH

"FUCK'S SAKE, Emiya!" Ciel coughed, hastily covering his mouth with his arms as a veritable nebula of dust arose from the impact. "What the hell!"

"Master." Archer grit his teeth. "Look."

Blinking away the stray grains, Ciel stared with watery eyes at where Archer pointed.

"It's a wall, Emiya. A very gray, very damaged wall." Ciel snarled. "What about it?"

"Master." His eyes narrowed. "Think about where we are, and where we started from the main entrance. This library should be along the front wall, aligned with the main doorway, correct?"

"... yes?"

Archer turned to his master, face grim.

"Then where are the windows?"

Ciel blinked, whirling around to inspect the wall.

"But," He bit his lips, "but there were windows when we saw it from the outside."

"I know."

"Then what the hell's all this?"

"Can't say, Master." Archer sighed, turning around. "It's either an architectural trick employed that I'm unaware of, or…" His voice trailed off as something else registered.

The desk of Honduran rosewood stood there, all unassuming.

"... Master. Is it just me," the butler swallowed, "or did that desk shift when we weren't looking?"

Ciel turned to where he pointed, tilting his head.

"... If it did move at all," Ciel said slowly, never taking his eyes off the offending desk, "perhaps it shifted just a little from the impact of the shelf."

"Right, right." Archer repeated unconvincingly. "Except for the glaring fact that it moved a bit towards us."

A sudden chill descended upon the room.

The two of them allowed that statement to sink in for a brief, terrifying moment.

"You know, Emiya," Ciel stammered shakily, "I think I lost my appetite for corporal punishment."

"What a coincidence. I'm no longer in the mood for this as well." Archer concurred. "And I still don't hear anyone in the manor besides. Stands to reason he's not here and we're merely wasting time."

At that moment from the manor's underbelly came a deep, straining groan.

"Run?" Archer offered.

"Run." His master confirmed.

Hastily pulling his master into his arms, Archer made a break for the door, flinging it open with a bang, turning to where he remembered the door to be only to nearly collide headfirst with a wall.

"Emiya." Ciel muttered, voice carefully level. "The door's gone."

"Yes. Now that we've established a firm grasp on the obvious, let us find another way out." Archer grit out.

His master still hanging like an oversized loaf of challah bread under his right arm, Archer whirled around only to curse.

"And it seems like the corridor got longer while we were away." Ciel noted with an eerie calm.

"You're two for two, master."

"And the entrance somehow moved itself to the other side." He went on.

"You're on fire, master." Archer snarked back.

The chill was getting worse. There came another low moan from the manor's depths, this time accompanied by tremors and falling plaster. The servant merely blinked, and his blood turned to ice when he noticed the corridor had grown even longer in an instant.

"Master. Brace yourself, I'm making a run for it."

Ciel obeyed, arms over his head, gritting his teeth as Archer leapt with breakneck speed, eyes never leaving the retreating door. One stride, another groan, two strides, plaster shattered, three strides, he blinked, the door was further away, four strides, five strides, six-

The door splintered into pieces from the impact as Archer and his master barreled through, and Archer heaved a sigh of relief as he breathed in the fresh forest air.

"There, master." Archer sighed. "We're out. Let's get back to the manor-"

"Emiya." Ciel stiffened, eyes wide.

Archer looked up and froze.

Gone was the overgrown garden of weeds and dandelions that surrounded the manor in the dark of night. In its place, redwoods and birch trees stood tall and proud. Sunlight streamed from the forest canopy, and the trills of birdsong could be discerned if one stood still and listened. And the air. Archer breathed it in and noted with some consternation it was rich with mana.

Barely conscious of his own actions, Archer gingerly set his similarly shocked master on leaves of grass.

"... right." Archer swallowed, voice oddly strained. "This is interesting."

His master would fit right at home in the peanut gallery beholding a tennis game, looking back and forth between Archer and the forest that sprouted out of nowhere, eyes wide.

"I realize that this situation is unideal, but the important thing is not to panic." Archer muttered, raising an arm up in his defense. "I'll find out what happened in no time-"

"WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?!" Ciel burst out, eyes wild.

Archer rubbed his temples.

"This was meant to be a planned, routine intimidation of a coworker who may or may not have been a burglar. Instead, we're now in a forest of fuck-all, up a certain creek and lacking a certain instrument!" Ciel ranted, desperation clear as he gesticulated at their surroundings. "Emiya, what the hell happened?!"

"Master. Once again, calm down. Do you think I know more now than I did five seconds ago?" Archer snapped, patience similarly thin. "Just give me a moment and I'll figure out what happened."

Ciel crossed his arms. "If this is another one of your so-called magus workshops we've stumbled across-"

"It isn't." Archer shook his head, carefully crouching down. "No magus could have accomplished this. Portals involve rending and distorting space, and as a result it's more proximate to true magic than the run of the mill stuff. To date, I count only two people that could possibly have a hand in this, and neither of whom apply to this scenario."

"Because?"

"Because I've been reliably informed by a shitty, cigarette chomping puppet master that the first option was only capable of a bastardized version of teleportation within the confines of his own apartment. As for the second, contrary to popular belief, he's made of bigger picture stuff than deciding to send me and a brat someplace else for shits and giggles. I'm not especially noteworthy, as a magus I'm downright third-rate, there's no reason for me to have caught his attention. Besides, if he is involved, he wouldn't send someone like Nakamura along to the same fate, would he? I assure you that were he to set his mind to it, he is capable of sending you and me to another world entirely wherever we are, and there would be no need for this wild goose chase."

Ciel groaned, putting his head in his hands.

"Calm down." Archer said again with a valiant attempt at confidence. "There's going to be a simple explanation for this. I'm sure we can get back to where we came from soon enough-"

"Here's an idea." Ciel looked up, frowning. "Why don't we simply just go back to the manor and see if we can fumble our way back?"

Archer looked incredulous.

"You want to go back into a house that's probably haunted with something, that shifts its orientation everytime we look away, that gets colder the longer we stay inside it?" The servant shook his head. "Yeah. Fat chance of that happening. If we stayed in there long enough, I don't think either of us would have made it out alive."

"But then what?!" Ciel hissed, arms clutching his head in despair. "Because I don't like being left in the fucking dark, and right now, despite appearances, we might as well be playing hide-and-seek in the goddamn Mariana Trench. I need to get back! All my work, my company, Lizzy-"

Archer ignored him in favor of analyzing the soil and trees around them.

… Huh.

"Well, you can calm down," Archer muttered, "at the very least, we're still in Britain. The bad news is…"

"What?!" Ciel snapped.

"... I don't think this is the Britain you're familiar with." Archer frowned. "The air's rich in mana, which points to us arriving to a Britain that's centuries earlier, but even that hypothesis has some faults to it." He knocked a fist onto a tree trunk. "These trees and the soil, there's something odd about them, possessing mystery when they shouldn't. It's not something I understand."

Ciel sighed, taking deep breaths to calm himself.

"There's nothing for it, then. In the meantime, let's get out of the forest and into civilization."

"Sure, if civilization does exist." Archer muttered darkly.

He didn't miss his master's curses sotto voce.

"You know, while you're mulling over what happened, I feel like I should inform you of something."

"Hm?"

Archer held up a low-hanging branch, allowing his master to pass through, motioning for him to continue.

"On the way to the manor," Ciel muttered, eyes downcast, "I had a dream."

"And?"

"I've had some odd dreams in the past, don't get me wrong, but…" Ciel turned to his servant, grim. "I think Merlin spoke to me."

Archer nearly tripped.

"And you're only telling me this now?!" He demanded.

"Oi, let's see you recount every dream you had, how about that?" Ciel retorted, stalking ahead and clambering over an overturned trunk. "I didn't remember it happened until you mentioned that he was capable of visiting people's dreams."

Archer sighed, hurrying after his master, blades in hands.

"And what exactly happened? Describe it."

Ciel looked troubled.

"I remember… flowers. A paradise. The skies were beautiful, there were rocks suspended over us, and a man. A very beautiful man."

Archer nodded. "That sounds appropriate for an incubus. Go on."

"Well," Ciel scratched his head, "I got the distinct impression he didn't expect me to be there."

"Understandable. The reverse side of the world isn't some place people can show up in willy-nilly."

"No, Emiya, I mean-" He frowned, wondering how best to phrase his jumbled thoughts. "He said that I was sniffing around, that he didn't expect another one so soon within his realm… Oh! That's right! He knows of you too."

Archer froze.

"What exactly do you mean by that?" He managed.

"He knows that I have you as a servant." Ciel clarified, sounding surer by the moment. "He said he didn't know what difference the two of us would make, but that we might be able to achieve one or two happy endings."

Archer chewed his lips, mulling it all over.

"... so we're here – against his plans – to take part in something that we have no place in." Archer muttered. "That's just maddeningly unhelpful. Why are these things never clear?"

"My thoughts exactly. But more importantly," Ciel hurried after him, "do you think Merlin is capable of sending us away?"

"I wouldn't discount the possibility." Archer acknowledged. "The man is one of the greatest mages in the world, and I dare say he's capable of things most magi can only dream of. At the same time, though, I can't understand why he'd resort to this-"

Archer stopped.

There was another – distressingly possible – explanation.

"Master." He sighed. "Maybe the reason we're in this predicament is because of me."

Ciel turned, incredulous. "What exactly do you mean by that? Keep in mind, if our current situation is a result of something you did, I'll gut you with a dull fish fork."

Archer shook his head. "Nothing so overt. I have no concrete proof, but my job as a counter guardian involves me being summoned to take care of a problem before it spells the end of the human order."

"That's right. You've said as much, the night we met."

"So maybe," Archer looked around the forest, "this is what I've been sent to take care of."

Ciel stared.

"Then why the hell was I dragged along?" He demanded. "Why were you summoned in my world and not here? Why didn't they just bring you here in the first place?"

And therein laid the rub.

"I actually have no idea." Archer admitted. "The counter force isn't usually so roundabout in its summonings and manifestations. I'll have to get a better look at where we are to find out what exactly happened but…"

The counter guardian trailed off as they reached the forest's edges.

Awed, Ciel took off his top hat in a daze. "Goodness."

Gone were the skies of blue and gray, replaced with splashes of honey orange and pale pink clouds. The earth was jutted, wild and untamed, ridged with stone of palest purple and dotted with yellow wildflowers. In the distance, the land rose and fell gently, and the fields were bordered by hedges and trees. It was a fine feeling indeed to be standing up there, on the forest's edges, with the sound of summer all around them and a light breeze caressing their faces as they took the idyllic scene in, even as they grappled with the fact that they definitely weren't in Kansas anymore.

Archer shielded his gaze from the muted glow of the sun, scanning the horizon, until he laid eyes upon a distinctive, towering structure.

"Master." He announced. "I spy a castle. A huge one, right there."

"Which one?" Ciel muttered. "I don't suppose it'd be too much to hope that it'd be Sandringham or Balmoral?"

Archer raised an eyebrow. "Is Sandringham and Balmoral some twenty stories high?"

Ciel Phantomhive swore.

"If I had to guess, going by every contextual clue we possess," Archer crossed his arms, "that's Camelot."

"Camelot." Ciel repeated.

Archer shrugged. "It's a guess, master. You had a dream about Merlin. We're still in Britain, albeit one that looks very different from what we're used to… that way's our best bet in finding someone who can get us out of here."

"Question." Ciel raised a finger, frowning. "Say this is really Camelot. What on earth would they send you here to accomplish? I don't think you're meant to stop its fall, are you?"

Archer opened his mouth to retort before it sunk in.

His master had a point.

In his time with Rin during her studies under the Kaleidoscope, he'd become aware of a concept known as Quantum Time-Locks: universal events that iterated at regular intervals within a domain for the purpose of anchoring "the average expression of phenomena and occurrences" as immutable absolutes within a confirmed History. Simply put, these were events that would always happen regardless of the timeline and parallel world. One night, when he'd discussed Saber's abandoned dream with his flatmate over drinks and chinese food, Rin had further postulated that the fall of Camelot was one such phenomenon.

All of this meant that it was improbable he was here to save Britain.

Staring at the towering castle in the distance, he'd wondered what it was the counter force sent him here to accomplish if the entire fiasco wasn't some freak accident.

The counter guardian sighed.

"That's very perceptive, master. But I'm afraid I'm as in the dark as you are."

Ciel scoffed. "Then how exactly do you suppose we get out of here? What's the plan?"

"... For now, let us just assume that Merlin had a hand in sending us here." Archer reasoned. "If that's Camelot, Artoria will be there. Merlin will be there too. I say we head off in that direction, demand an audience with the King, and explain our circumstances. With any luck, Merlin will send us back posthaste."

"Sounds simple." The Earl's eyes narrowed. "But do you really think King Arthur's going to accede to your request so easily?"

Archer smirked.

"I've known Artoria for a while. While this iteration of her probably isn't the one I've met, I know what makes her tick. Besides, Artoria Pendragon is a noble soul and righteous. A wise and merciful king. She has no reason to deny us her help."

And then it happened.

KRAKOOOOOOOOM

The two flinched, and Archer hastily stood in front of his master, and the two watched mouths agape as a pillar of blinding light was launched leagues in front of them with a force that made the very ground shake. The beam was relentless, glaring with energy, circled by clouds and steam as it flew across the skies, vanquishing the clouds of pink and replacing them with warm crepuscular rays. As Archer's eyes adjusted to the brilliant, dazzling light, he noted with some consternation that the beam was pointed, swirling around a single point even as it hurtled beyond where they stood, destination unknown.

He was tempted to name it the work of Excalibur and call it a day, but he was no fool. Despite its glow, despite its shine, despite its power, he felt none of the warmth, none of the sheer hope that characterized the sword borne from the inner seas of the earth.

This was power.

This was judgment.

This was rage.

Never taking his eyes off the massive ray of light and destruction, Ciel Phantomhive opened his mouth.

"Never have I been to these parts but I shudder to think what reason the good and righteous would have to wield firepower surpassing that of all of the Queen's armies." The Earl leveled Archer with a flat look. "Do you still think going there's a good idea?"

Archer sighed.

Even in another world, it seemed things were never easy.