(A/N)
Written this in a hurry as a Merlin catalyst.
It worked.
Good luck with your rolls. And Viva Las Vegas.
Thanks to Fallacies, Hyuu want fries with that .-. , and Fluflesnufaluphagus for betaing.
Their plan to walk some several hundred leagues to Camelot – supposedly a silly place – was rudely interrupted by bulbous, purple blobs that had shown up out of nowhere.
"You know," his master called, high up on the tree tops where he had been deposited in a hurry, having been watching him drive Kanshou and Byakuya through thick tendrils of darkness for the past five minutes, "I had a whole thing planned out this week."
"Oh yeah?!" Archer gritted his teeth, flinging his swords back in time to segment the swirling collection of curses behind him. "Do tell! It's not like I-" motes of light, "have anything-" another pair of swords, "better-" he lifted them high up, "to do!"
The counter guardian swung, cleaving the giant mass in front of him in two; he'd barely the time to catch his breath before he instinctively ducked, watching as the great ball of curses passed from above him, scorching the tree it impacted with a hiss.
"I had a new idea on how to get rid of our unwanted guests." His master went on with inappropriate calm even as his servant dodged in a roll under tendrils that lunged towards him.
"I thought you gave up on that already!" Archer protested, bobbing and weaving and twisting in the air as he sliced and diced away.
"This time it'll work!"
"That's what you said the last time you had me attempt to serve them sanguinaccio dolce!" Archer snapped, pulling the bowstring taut as he aimed and fired into the last of the stragglers. "Besides, I thought you all made up after the curry fiasco."
"The fact remains; he's overstaying his welcome." Ciel muttered, watching as his servant dismissed his projections with a huff. "And I don't want him to…"
He stopped short, turning pensive in an instant.
The Counter Guardian sighed, making his way to the base of the tree, the beings of darkness having been dispatched of.
"You don't want him to what exactly?" He prodded gently.
"... It doesn't matter." The little Earl sighed, swaying his legs here and there from where he sat on the branch. "At this point, I just want to go home. Even if it means returning to that stupid face and your long-lost twin."
"And you will." Archer stressed, hoping his level voice helped in assuaging his master's fears. "Even if it means me dying here, you'll be able to return home. I promise you that."
Ciel gave his servant a tired look. "And how would that help me at all, Emiya? You do not have my permission to die. Not here. Not until I say so."
"It's so nice to know that my master cares." Archer smirked, holding his hands aloft underneath the great tree's canopy. "Come on. Down you get."
The Earl of Phantomhive grunted, gently hoisting himself off the great trunk into Archer's arms-
A tendril lanced and snatched him mid-fall.
Archer reacted immediately, swords already in hand as he lunged, hastily pulling his screaming master away from the lurking lump of darkness and rent its flesh in two, panting as they watched it bubble and gurgle its way into the ground once more.
"... You alright, master?"
"No, Emiya, I'm pretty far from alright. I thought you got all of them." Ciel snarled.
"Evidently not." Archer hurriedly knelt, checking his master from head to toe, lifting his arms for better access. "Stay still."
"What are you doing?! Emiya, I'm fine." He snapped.
"I have no idea what those things were," the Counter Guardian mumbled, worriedly muttering diagnostic spells, "but whatever they were, they were comprised largely of curses. Forgive me for wanting to do my due diligence in ensuring that you're otherwise unharmed."
The Earl blinked.
"Curses? You mean like those used by witches?"
And Dead Apostles, Archer mentally added as he stood, shaking his head. "Not exactly. Curses are… how should I put this. If you have enough conviction and believe in something hard enough, want something hard enough, it can result in reality distorting to conform with whatever conviction is generating the distortion. They're not powerful by themselves, but rather gain power if given mana."
Ciel turned to where the great beings of darkness had dissipated, frowning.
"Whatever that abomination was, it felt fleshy and real. Not exactly something I'd associate with a corporeal concept like curses."
"I must admit, I've never encountered those creatures in all my worldly experience." The Counter Guardian squinted, considering his master with a thoughtful look. "Still, we should be thankful you're alright, it doesn't seem to have inflicted much damage unto you… though it begs the question what those curses were geared towards and why they didn't affect you."
"That's because it's a Mors." A new voice gruffly cut in. "You'll find that they don't affect humans."
The Master and Servant whirled around, alert in an instant, and froze.
Standing before them was a curious specimen, beastly and animalistic, a man with the face of a dog, and Archer would have been tempted to dismiss him as a werewolf outright were it not for his blunted, softer features and soldier's garb fashioned out of leather.
The stranger looked at them, gaze lingering on the swords pointed towards him with a frown.
"Metal swords…" He stared at Archer with no small amount of confusion. "You look mighty strange for someone hailing from the Earth clan, though I can't say I haven't seen stranger." He remarked, whistling appreciatively. "I take it that that little human's your charge?"
Archer blinked, exchanging a confused glance with his master as Ciel stared resolutely ahead, face betraying nothing.
'Play along,' his master commanded.
Archer slowly lowered his swords. "That's right." He supplied smoothly. "He's under my protection."
The hybrid blinked. "... Odd way of referring to your slave."
He could feel his master turning rigid beside him.
Archer could feel his lips tug upwards in the beginnings of a shit-eating grin.
"Yes, well," he shrugged, feigning nonchalance, "it is what it is."
His master pinched him in an area the beast couldn't see.
"We received reports of Mors in the area." The hybrid went on, unperturbed. "I was meant to scout ahead and see what we were up against, but I take it you've already taken care of them all?"
Hesitantly, Archer nodded.
"All the better for us, then." The hybrid bared his teeth in what Archer hoped was a smile. "The commander will want to check for herself, but you have my thanks."
"... Your commander?" Ciel repeated blankly.
The beast's eyes flitted between the two, lips pursed.
"... It might be best if I bring you to her myself." He said at last.
"I'd rather you didn't." Archer hurriedly spoke up. "We're actually on our way to the city-"
"Assuming the Mors truly are taken care of, then we'll be on our way back to Camelot ourselves! It's truly no trouble-"
"We wouldn't want to impose-"
"Druk, what's taking so long?! Where are the Mors?!"
At the sound of the newcomer, the hybrid stood at attention, and the master-servant duo watched transfixed as she came into view.
She being the largest woman the Counter Guardian had ever met. Archer considered himself a tall man, and he could count on one hand the number of times he had to look up to maintain eye contact with someone, but the woman who marched into their forest had a good few inches on him all the same to the extent that he'd imagine his master needing to strain his neck just to be able to look her in her mismatched eyes. And that was all without mentioning the sheer presence the woman exuded: flowing, sunny blonde hair trailing behind her, decked in silver-blue armor, pauldrons ridged in the manner of a shark's gaping maw, and with a breastplate as august as a natural phenomenon.
And the sword…
Archer narrowed his eyes.
A greatsword aflame with embers of teal and orange was gripped at the ready by her side.
Silently, with an ever-growing sense of confusion, he ran his gaze across it.
That's…
"Commander." The newly-named Druk barked, "This one claims to have taken care of them already."
The Commander gave them an appraising look, from Emiya to Ciel with something akin to polite disbelief.
"That weakling took care of the entire army of Mors?"
The Earl glowered, but resisted the urge to bite back with something equally acerbic. Instead, he forced himself to take a diplomatic approach.
"It'd be fairer to say that my role in the dispatching of these Mors was more… passive. My serv-" he stopped himself, remembering their prior deception with a start, "my companion did the lion's share of the work."
"Obviously." She scoffed. "You're lucky to have someone like him to protect you, scrawny as you are. You two have my sincerest gratitude for taking care of them."
It doesn't sound particularly gratitudinous, Ciel thought darkly as he schooled his features into something placid. "Think nothing of it. If there's nothing else, we would like to be on our way-"
"It just so happens there is." The woman interrupted, bristling as her gaze flitted between the two, wary. "What's a human and his master doing all the way here in the wilderness?"
Ciel glanced beside him, willing his servant to say anything to keep up the charade, but alas, his servant seemed struck dumb, mouth slightly agape as he stared uncomprehendingly at the weapon by the warrior's side.
Mentally promising to give his servant the mother of all tongue-lashings later on, he spoke up again. "We were in the mood for a stroll."
"A stroll." The warrior repeated, lips contorting to a snarl. "You must take me for a fool. It's bad enough you're weak, but to be so lily-livered as to lie to a knight? The next words out of your mouth had better be the truth-"
At this, the Earl finally had enough.
"This weakling happens to be an Earl." He snapped, stepping forward with no shortage of bravado, heart hammering under crossed arms. "If you truly claim to be a knight, I'd thank you to show the basic sense of decorum and civility to someone of my station!"
The warrior blinked.
The beastly soldier froze.
A bead of sweat trickled down the Earl's head as he hurled curses inwardly to his mute servant.
"... An answer full of hostility." She finally huffed, looking disconcertingly pleased all of a sudden. "At least you have spirit."
"Commander." Druk muttered lowly. "He said-"
"I am aware. I heard him myself." She barked, stepping forward until her breastplate threatened to obscure her face from where the Earl stood. "I am a Lord myself, and I'd remember coming across a weakling like you amongst our noble court. No…" Her eyes narrowed. "You're a changeling."
…
The Earl of Phantomhive had no idea what that meant, but he'd stake the entirety of his family fortune that the title did not bode well for him at all.
"... It seems some more inquiries are to be made." She finally said, turning her attention back to Emiya with a start. "Fairy!"
At her address, Emiya was finally roused from where he stood, blinking as he stood at the ready. "... Me?"
"Yes! You! Take your slave with you and follow me back to my camp." She ordered. "I'll continue my investigation there."
"If you're taking us captive," Ciel muttered, "a captive has the right to know his captor's name-"
He felt a hand on his shoulder and stilled.
His servant stepped forward, head dipped. "Forgive him, he's had a trying day walking for hours. We'll follow you."
"Of course." She nodded self-importantly. "Weak as he is, he must be exhausted. Come, I'll see to it that he's fed at camp."
And with that, the knight turned and marched back from whence she came, her attendant trotting dutifully behind her. His servant's hand still on his back, Ciel was pushed to follow them with no small amount of indignation.
"Emiya," he whispered, voice tinged with equal parts anger and alarm, "what's the matter with you? Why did you hang me out to dry? And why exactly are we going along with this farce?"
His servant looked troubled. "I'll explain later. But things are looking more complicated than I had assumed, and we stand the best chance of understanding our circumstances from her."
"And just who exactly is she?!"
His servant sighed. "That's part of the problem. I'm not a hundred percent certain, but from that sword she carries…"
Ahead of them, the knight stepped out of the forest's edge, and for a moment her honey-blonde hair was caught perfectly in the sun's pink and orange hues.
"That's someone claiming to be Gawain."