Fumble Order Redux 4
Olga tugged a bit at the sleeves of her costume, her expression pulled into a small scowl from the combined heat of the layers and the burning city. "Are you really sure this outfit will work? It still seems like a horrible idea, and even you said it wasn't a perfect match."
"Director, do you know where to find shirts embroidered with gold? In this situation?" Blackmore replied, his eyes flickering to the magus and then back to Scheherazade, who had just pulled a large carpet from one of her scrolls.
The albino shook her head, her frown turning thoughtful as she murmured, "Who even embroiders in gold?"
"The Einzberns," the blond answered glibly despite the rhetorical nature of the question, trying to quash the nausea welling up in his gullet. "Could be worse though, they could embroider in Rhinegold…"
The Director gave him a bland look, her jaw working as if she was holding back from retorting the statement. She settled for putting a hand over her face and sighing, moving to inspect the carpet they'd be using as transportation. The blond didn't spend much time contemplating that, and instead stared out at the scorched city they were about to traverse. He swallowed deeply, his ears perking up at the sound of heels clicking on tile as Mash approached him.
"Master, I don't know what plans you've made, but I don't have access to my Noble Phantasm…" the girl admitted, her expression downcast as her grip tightened on her shield. "Maybe, if I could use it, then when we were fighting Assassin…"
"Worrying about what ifs and all that… leave that to the Director and I until after we deal with Saber." The blond advised with little preamble, he knew that reassuring people wasn't quite his forte and decided that it wasn't the time to try. "As for your Noble Phantasm… well, such things are supposed to be instinctual for Servants. Given that you're a Shielder, the only advice that I can really offer is that you remember the things you want to protect. It doesn't have to be everything in the world, it just has to be the things you want to protect most in the world."
"The things I want to protect most…" Mash's words trailed off as she considered the implications, her eyes turned down in thought. "But, Chaldea's supposed to protect all of humanity…"
"All of humanity's way too big for one person to carry on their shoulders, or shield behind their back. Even if it's Chaldea's job to protect humanity, you just need to do your part," the Master remarked quietly as he braced himself for the journey to the ruins of the Einzbern Castle. "So, buck up, we're going to need you to cover us in case Berserker doesn't like our Illya costume."
"Master, I still don't think that this is the best course of action," Mash muttered, worry clear on her face at the thought of having to deal with Heracles.
Blackmore shrugged as his face twisted into a wry grimace. "I think that Cu's the only one looking forward to this whole mess, Mash."
With that small dig at the Hound of Chulainn's thirst for battle the two fell into silence, understanding the reluctance the other felt at going out into the burning city, to try and confront the mad demigod.
Trent turned his gaze skyward and suppressed a scream of indignation from how bad a day he'd had thus far. He settled for sighing deeply in despair.
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Blackmore clung to Scheherazade, arms wrapped around her waist as he kept his eyes down and off the scenery speeding by. Mash and Cu at the ready in case of any sort of assault during their trip, while Olga sat in the middle of their squad and held her hat down.
Jalis had been dismissed earlier for the sake of moderating how much mana Scheherazade was using.
There wasn't any real danger of them falling off the carpet, but Trent still held tight to the Caster. The rest of the group were on guard for any attacks, but Cu Chulainn still felt the need to break the relative silence.
"So, you said that all of this was due to a tainted grail and what not. But how much do you actually know about the circumstances behind that?" the druid asked curiously, his gaze remaining vigilantly on their they cut through the city.
Trent turned his head from the Caster's back and shrugged. "Honestly, the circumstances could fall anywhere within a certain subset, but allow me to make a few assumptions." As he said that, he looked to the others and received a round of nods. "Then, the crux of the matter. Lancer's master was the Matou heiress, correct?"
Cu hummed his assent as he nodded, "That'd be correct, had purple hair and that."
"Then, I have a decent idea as to how the Fifth War became like this." The blond shook his head as his shoulders slumped, events unfolding in his head. "I can't tell you the exact process, as there's some anomalous details, but it's a tragedy."
No one spoke, clearly waiting for the Canadian to continue, even as he gathered himself. After a moment, he continued, "Sakura Matou was born Sakura Tohsaka, second daughter of the Tohsaka family. Her father, Tokiomi, desired for both his daughters to be able to inherit magecraft and enjoy it as he did, but he couldn't pass his crest on to Sakura. So, when he found out that a nearby family of reputable mages had no heirs to their name, he offered Sakura up for adoption."
To him, it was a rather callous and strange decision, with the aftereffects of it colouring Blackmore's view of Tokiomi. As he looked at the others, they mostly seemed to be considering the scenario that Trent had lain out, none of them having the context that he did. The blond sighed, "From there, Sakura was adopted into the Matou family, and rather than being taught magecraft properly…" trailing off, he swallowed the words clogging his throat. "Well, the Matou make use of Crest Worms in their magecraft. Imagine a dark, dank basement, full of Crest Worms… Sakura was thrown to the worms time and time again, violated on the orders of Zouken Matou."
It was with that declaration that their faces curled in disgust, the image clearly having gotten through to them. Alas, that wasn't the thing he wanted to sell them on and shook his head, "But, that's not the part of Sakura's experiences that matters to us now. What matters is that, in the aftermath of the Fourth War, Zouken took shards of the Grail that manifested, and implanted them within Sakura, forging a direct connection between her and Angra Mainyu."
"And given what we know of Angra Mainyu, it has the capability to corrupt Servants as it did with Lancer and the others, the only thing it was missing was a way into the world, which it found through Sakura. With all those things combined, we can assume that something pushed Sakura to that point that she either broke and gave Angra Mainyu control, or that someone found a way to inflict it on Saber and make her its conduit." Even as the blond explained that, he felt that it probably wasn't actually the case. To him, it was far more likely that Flauros had blackened Saber and let things go from there.
Silence lapsed over the group as they let the carpet carry them towards the ruins of the Einzbern Mansion, some of them in contemplation while others tried to focus more on their surroundings. The way the ruins and burned out husks of vehicles sped by was almost entrancing for the Canadian, though he had returned to his position, nestled against Scheherazade's back. What kept him from remarking upon it was the horror that had been inflicted upon the citizens of Fuyuki, the burning of the city and the loss of their lives.
"-rector, Director, do you copy?" Roman's voice crackled through the air, causing Olga to perk up.
Her face cracked into a weary smile as she responded, "Doctor Roman, it's good to hear your voice. How are things back in Chaldea?"
The doctor's voice was just as tired as the humans in the group felt, but he made the report any way. "Currently, we've got the majority of the communications equipment back online, and I've got most of the remaining staff working on stabilizing the existences of Master Candidates. Also, the current stability of the communications equipment is because-"
"Of the universal genius da Vinci!" A woman's cheery voice interrupted, the Heroic Spirit in question likely having waited for the opportunity to chime in bombastically.
As she went into a string of babble about how things had gone due to her work, the Casters' brows quirked in confusion as they likely knew the figure as a man, while Olga turned her gaze to Blackmore. The blond snorted at her scrutiny, but spoke up for the sake of Cu and Scheherazade.
"Though Leonardo da Vinci was male in life, as a Heroic Spirit, they've taken on the form of what they consider most beautiful. So, they're female in body, and Mona Lisa in terms of gender, if that makes sense," As he explained that, the two Casters took on more thoughtful looks, contemplating either the way the genius had accomplished it or the purpose of it.
Da Vinci interjected perkily, clearly enthused at the recognition, "My! We've got an expert on me in the Singularity, how flattering! Then again, as a universal genius, it only makes sense that there'd be people out there who've studied me so closely!"
"Miss da Vinci also has a more than healthy ego," the Canadian observed with a chuckle, his mouth curved into a small smile. "But it's not unwarranted, she's the sort of great genius who can't be underestimated. Indeed, her help restoring the comms was likely due to the fact that she's the sort to have back-ups for important hardware."
"Oh please, praise me more! I don't get anywhere near enough appreciation for all my hardwork!" As the most famous Renaissance (wo)man went about cheering, the rest of the group looked at Trent in askance.
With a shrug, the blond remarked, "There's not really much I can do there, though maybe there's some more important hardware for you to salvage or take back-ups off mothballs for. I'm sure that there's probably something you can dig up that either needs replacing or repairing if you look close enough."
"Ho ho, a challenge? To think, there'd be someone with the guts to challenge this genius to something! Take back over, Romani, I'm going to show the newbie just what I can do!" The artist hollered as she presumably scampered off to find something to take care of, leaving an almost stunned silence behind her.
The doctor was the first person to fill the silence da Vinci had left behind. "You know, I'm kind of amazed you were able to handle da Vinci so well, most people get pulled into her rhythm."
Trent shrugged even as the Casters looked to Mash and Olga, who commiserated Roman's statement with nods of their own. The doctor spoke up again, "Now, just where are you all heading? We know that the cause of the Singularity is situated on Mount Enzo, while you're on a parallel course, so how does this fit in?"
"Blackmore had a terrible idea, and unfortunately, there doesn't seem to be a better way to reinforce our numbers for our inevitable clash," the director answered as she kept her eyes forward.
There was a distant, shrill beeping from the doctor's side of the communication, causing everyone on the carpet to tense. Sounding panicked, Roman yelped, "Heading right towards you is an immensely powerful Heroic Spirit! You need to get out of there!"
That was the first sign, but the second nearly knocked the wind from the lungs of Trent, Mash, and Olga. An immense rumbling like a mountainside collapsing, or the ground tearing itself asunder in an earthquake sounded through the air as their target roared. The roar was like a shockwave, blasting through them, but the pressure that followed after them was something entirely metaphysical despite the crashing of Berserker's approach.
A black and crimson shape erupted from a burnt-out building, flames clinging to him as he left a trail of cinders and rubble in his wake. His eyes shone red as they zeroed in on the party on the magic carpet, strangely focused despite his nature.
Despite being Blackened, despite being insane, despite being Herakles at the weakest he could be, Blackmore knew their chances of defeating him were slim. He tried to exhale and center himself, only to find no air in his lungs.
He couldn't bear to breath.
They needed Olga to act out her role.
If Herakles attacked, he was sure they would die.
Trent's fingers almost clawed as he held onto Scheherazade's torso, shoulders tensed to the point of aching.
Berserker's charge had no telegraphing motion, instead he exploded into motion, his arm twisting up and around as he readied his roughly hewn rock weapon. His stride ate the distance between them in no time, craters following in the wake of his drive.
