FATE/CATBOX FICTION

Chapter 14: The Three Shrines

As Cuchulainn was lost in his thoughts, the Celtic hero heard light footsteps approaching in a tiptoe fashion. He shifted his eyes over and found the ever-smiling Da Vinci nearby. Her radiant expression made him sick.

"Hi there. How are you doing?" the inventor asked.

"Fucking peachy. What do you want, woman?"

"I just wanted to make sure Connla was okay."

"She was rather worse for wear, but she's out like a light now."

"Good."

They stood there in awkward silence. They couldn't avoid talking about it whatsoever. Soon, Da Vinci murmured in a soothing tone, "Keep a sharp eye on her. Although you might think we pressured her into talking, we all know she's doing her best to help us. I assure you that her knowledge about the Grail Terminal will be treated with the utmost respect."

Cuchulainn bitterly grunted, "Yeah, I know. She's being a real trooper, volunteering such a difficult story to all of us. The question is what you guys are going to do with that information."

"What do you mean?"

"You're an inventor, aren't you? Aren't you chomping at the bit to turn the kid into Chaldea's own Grail Terminal?"

For a moment, Da Vinci's glare turned fierce. Although she understood where he was coming from, it didn't lessen the impact that his harsh question had on her. After a moment of quiet apprehension between them, she finally said, "I don't think I ever told anyone this, but… there was a time I had considered actually abandoning Chaldea."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"I didn't get to know the previous director Marisbury Animusphere all that well, but when I found out about the unethical experiments he performed to accomplish his dream, I was absolutely furious. The Demi-Servant summoning that poor Mash had to go through would have compelled me to leave Chaldea. I only stayed so that Roman wouldn't work himself to death."

"…"

"If Marisbury were still alive, I'm sure he'd take full advantage of Connla's Imbas Forosnai the same way the Mages are doing to Cliste here. I, however, am not like him. All of you Servants are inspirations for my creative genius, not tools to be used and discarded. If there is a much safer alternative to be found, you can bet I'll pour everything I have into making it a reality. If there is no possible way to achieve it however, then I will abandon such a project. No matter what though, I'm not the type to use human beings as guinea pigs to force an experiment to work in my favor. That's why I'll give you my word - I will not allow Connla to be subjected to such a horrendous process for Chaldea's benefit."

Cuchulainn gazed at her with an empty expression. Soon, he closed his eyes and murmured, "I'm going to hold you to that, woman. If you betray her, you know what will happen."

"If I ever wind up following such a dark path, then being gutted by you would be the best thing for Chaldea's future."

"… Fine."

With that settled, the tension between the pair seemed to wash away like mud in a stream. Da Vinci exhaled a relieved sigh and said, "I think it's almost time for our next strategy session. Earp says he's got a lot of intel he wants to cover with us, and I want to compare notes with him about the information I found on Uruburu's computer."

Cuchulainn nodded, and they waited for everyone to gather around the table. Everyone from Chaldea was present except for Connla, who was still sleeping. Roman's face was on a transmitter monitor, and he initiated the meeting by asking Earp, "So what can you tell us about the layout of Akakor?"

Earp replied, "Fer a Magecraft facility, Akakor ain't too complicated. First are the upper level labyrinths where we are. If yer lucky enough to find an entrance t'the second layer, then y'got the central city where the Family Tree's Mages live an' do their research an' stuff. Way, way below there is s'pposed t'be the Preservatorium where the Grail Terminal is, accordin' t'Connla. A bona fide paradise fer any Magus seekin' to advance their craft without incitin' the Association or Church's ire. 'Course, if yer a Family Tree Mage, that basically means yer on the lam anyway. The only reason the Family Tree's been gettin' away with housin' sociopaths is 'cause o'their strong ties with Atlas and Baldanders. They also have the Three Shrines givin' 'em protection from invaders."

"As in the Three Shrines that Connla told us about?" Mash asked.

"Yes, ma'am. They're called Salazere, Tiahuanaco, and Manoa."

On another transmitter monitor, Sigurd interjected, "That makes sense. According to The Chronicle of Akakor, those three temples were supposed to be the terrestrial residences of the Former Masters that the Ugha Mongulala worshipped, and were considered sacred and forbidden grounds. A pyramid was erected in the center and a staircase led up to the platform where the gods held their unknown ceremonies. The logic appears to be the same in this version of Akakor, but the construction has been inverted. Akakor itself has become that 'pyramid', and it has been built underground instead of aboveground. The most sacred ground is the Preservatorium where the Grail Terminal is stored at the very base of the pyramid, and the Three Shrines grant their protection, barring everyone access except the Servants responsible for the Grail's upkeep."

"Huh. Didn't know that," Earp raised an eyebrow. "Y'learn somethin' new every day, don'tcha? In any case, each o'them shrines resides in a different country – Salazere to the north in Brazil, Tiahuanaco to the west in Peru, an' Manoa to the south in Bolivia. Right in that sweet spot where the three countries meet is where Akakor is. Each o'them shrines work together t'form a Bounded Field that surrounds Akakor in Tradition Protection, which is further powered by bein' on top of a Leyline. Best place t'house yer Holy Grail Terminal, wouldn't ya say?"

"Tradition Protection, you say?" Da Vinci wondered. "I believe that in our world, the Wandering Sea is protected with the same concept, making it impossible for modern Mages to detect."

"What is this Tradition Protection anyway?" Ritsuka asked.

"Basically a type of Magecraft derived from fairy tales. It's not very popular due to it not originating from the Age of Gods, but it's said that wonderland type of witches are adept with the craft. I'm not familiar with the specifics myself, but from what I understand, Tradition Protection enforces a series of rules that an attack must follow for it to be successful. No matter how powerful the attack is, it will not affect the Bounded Field unless you know what its originating fairy tale is, along with its weakness. For example, if you envelop an area with Tradition Protection based on The Princess and the Pea, no amount of nuclear weapons or chemical warfare will affect it, but if you place a pea under a mattress, that will nullify the field. Of course, the name of the fairy tale powering the boundary has to be kept a strict secret from the outside world."

"Somethin' like that, yeah," Earp nodded. "I've been tryin' t'find out what the origin of Akakor's Tradition Protection is, but no luck. Next best thing is t'try bustin' the three shrines an' gettin' rid of the field that way, but another wrench got thrown into my works."

"What would that be?"

"Turns out y'gotta wreck all three o'them simultaneously. On top of that, each o'them got Servants protectin' them. I may be the luckiest Archer t'grace this side o'Big Blue, but even I can't pull off the impossible like that."

"The Three Caretakers…" Mash murmured gravely. "The same Servants that Connla allied with during the Nevada Singularity. To think that they're going to become our enemies… I can't imagine how difficult this must be for her."

"So you've basically been stuck at a standstill while running from the Family Tree," Sigurd murmured.

"Sad, ain't it?" Earp shrugged snidely. "But when yer dealin' with the Grail Terminal grantin' the Mages access t'parallel worlds t'reap off of, it ain't no wonder that they'd wanna keep their favorite toy outta their enemies' hands."

"So it's either figure out the origin of Akakor's Tradition Protection and target its weakness, or destroy the shrines powering it. Considering that we're dealing with a potential Singularity in the works, and you never found any clues about the barrier's fairy tale throughout 50 years of searching, it might be best to go for the latter option."

"I agree," Ritsuka added. "Earp didn't have the manpower before, but now that Chaldea is here, we can divide our forces and plan a three-way attack on the shrines."

Earp's eyes widened. "Yer sayin' y'got more Servants in yer roster t'call upon?"

"Several dozen, as a matter of fact."

"Oh ho, now things are gettin' spicy!" the gunman grinned enthusiastically. "So it's just a matter o'dividin' an' conquerin', ain't it? I'm fine with wherever ya'll want me to go, so I'll let ya'll decide the specifics. My main worry is havin' t'confront any of the Akakor Servants durin' the mission."

Da Vinci noted this and said, "Perhaps it'd be best if you went with Ritsuka and Mash to whichever shrine they're heading for. Your experience with the Akakor Servants should give them the advantage they need to survive."

"Y'got it, madam."

Cuchulainn listened to the conversation the whole time. Once he found his chance to speak, he asked, "Which one of the shrines is the closest in proximity to us?"

Babbage analyzed the detailed map of Akakor, then replied, "Each Shrine is equidistant to our current location. Based on comparing the geographical data, my best hypothesis is the Shrine of Manoa, situated at latitude -12.409754, longitude -67.029101."

"Then I'm taking the kid with me to that shrine."

"Might I inquire as to the reason you want to choose the closest temple?"

"Do you have to ask?" the Berserker glowered, then glanced at the sleeping Connla. "We've barely taken the first step, and she already looks so exhausted. Not to mention that we're going to have to fight a Servant she once allied with in the past. Even so, I know she's the type of person who wants to be as productive as possible for Chaldea. She also desperately wants to meet with the other Connla. It'd be best for her if we went to the nearest shrine so that she doesn't burn herself out too quickly."

"Understood. I am aware of her tendency to overwork, so reducing the amount of strain on her is a beneficial course of action."

Sigurd added, "Allow me to supervise your group as well. Since Director Roman wants to observe Master's team and manage her vitals, he wishes to have me observe Connla's health in the same manner during this entire journey."

Cuchulainn murmured darkly, "Suit yourself. I might be too busy slaughtering anyone who gets in my way to worry about the kid's welfare in the heat of battle."

The Saber frowned, then thought, He must be repressing his murderous urges far more than any of us realize…

Da Vinci said, "So that's Manoa taken care of. Ritsuka, how about you take Mash and Earp to Tiahuanaco? It's almost directly west of us, so traversing through the labyrinth to get there shouldn't be too hard on you."

"Hm… Now that ya mention it, I haven't been 'round Peru that much lately," Earp admitted. "I've been concentratin' my search 'round Brazil an' Bolivia, an' haven't found much of interest. If my 'unch is tellin' me anythin', somethin' good's bound t'turn up in or 'round Tiahuanaco."

"That sounds like a plan," Ritsuka agreed. "But what about Salazere? We still need someone to go to that shrine."

Kiritsugu stepped forth and said, "I'll go there."

"By yourself?"

"I work best alone. Besides, the fewer people I have tailing behind me, the easier it will be for me to conceal my presence and eliminate my targets."

Roman said in a stern voice, "Sorry to rain on your lone dog parade, but I'm not risking such a delicate mission on you tackling an entire shrine by yourself. If any one of our groups fail, it'll delay accessing the Preservatorium, and that alone risks the Family Tree Mages discovering our presence. We've only made it this far because we haven't caused enough of a stir for the Mages to notice us. I have no idea what their numbers are or if they have any additional Servants in their ranks, and I'd rather not find out. Once we disable the Tradition Protection, we have to rush straight for the Preservatorium and cut power to the Grail Terminal."

"In short, we only have one shot at this," Da Vinci summed it up succinctly. "Sorry, Kiritsugu, but for our peace of mind, we want you to bring at least one Servant with you."

"Hmph…" the Assassin grumbled. He understood their reasoning, but it didn't make it any less annoying.

Just then, a new female voice exclaimed from Roman's monitor, "Then I'll go with him!"

"Geh!? When did you get in here!?" the baffled doctor yelped at the person behind him.

Kiritsugu's jaw practically dropped when he heard the woman's voice. Before he could object, the summoning circle flashed brightly, and a slender woman with long white hair stepped through. She wore a peculiar and ornate white dress that reached her lower thighs, a bulky sash-like cape that enrobed her arms, and thigh-length white boots. She also bore a majestic silver crown that wrapped around her entire cranium. She certainly looked like a holy queen ripped straight out of a fairy tale, in stark contrast to the dark-clad rogue killer.

"Kiritsugu!" the lady exclaimed and ran up to him.

"Wh-What are you doing here?" the flustered Guardian uttered.

"Isn't it obvious!? I'm not going to let you do something so dangerous by yourself! If it's important to Chaldea's cause, then I'll do whatever it takes to make sure we're successful!"

"Even so, I would have preferred a different Servant."

"No getting out of this one! We might've had a rough start when we first met, but this is our opportunity to smooth things out!"

"I'm starting to think that's the real reason you want to tag along with me."

Mash chuckled and said, "If I felt most assured with anyone accompanying me, it's Irisviel. Her Noble Phantasm should help you stay alive while you concentrate on capturing Salazere."

"That's right!" Irisviel snatched his scarf. "It's my job to keep you safe!"

Kiritsugu glanced away. "That's true, but-"

Before he could object any further, Roman exclaimed, "Boss' orders! You two are to head for Salazere and seize it from the Caretaker! I don't want to hear any ifs, ands or buts!"

"God damn it…"

"We have our teams assembled, so it's just a matter of coordinating each of our strikes. The plan is to overthrow the Three Caretakers through any means necessary, then disable each point of the Tradition Protection at the exact same time. From there, we have to rush straight for the Preservatorium and make contact with the Holy Grail Terminal before the Family Tree Mages catch up to us. Any objections?"

No one said anything.

"Excellent. All of the teams need to keep in close contact with each other. Da Vinci, Sigurd and I will also supervise each group's progress. Babbage will be in charge of securing this workshop as our base, as well as guiding each team through the maze as efficiently as possible. I've also requested for several Servants to be on standby in case the base gets attacked."

"Each team leader will get a tracker that I developed," Da Vinci said and handed Ritsuka, Cuchulainn and Kiritsugu a small device. "Make sure you don't lose it. I won't be able to replace it when you're deep inside the labyrinth."

Cuchulainn asked, "Are we able to depart whenever we want?"

"The sooner the better, although I can understand if you want to wait for Connla to wake up."

"No, I can just do this," the Celt muttered and picked up the sleeping Lancer, slumping her head and arms over his shoulders. "This is the best way to have her conserve her energy for the upcoming battles, instead of wasting it running around in this stupid maze."

"Whatever works for you. Sigurd will be monitoring your progress, so radio him if you have any questions."

"Roger."

Irisviel suddenly stared at Kiritsugu with doe eyes, as if silently asking him to carry her as well. He grimaced and muttered, "Quit screwing around. We've got a job to do."

She simply giggled in response.


Preservatorium

Far within the deepest depths of Akakor was a chamber considered to be absolutely sacred and forbidden grounds to the Mages. No living human ever got to see what was in this place, but if they did, they would marvel at how majestic and peaceful it was. Songbirds chirped, squirrels scurried along the trees, and several small brooks bubbled. The leaves growing on rows and rows of bountiful apple trees swayed in the wind, which was being generated by fans hidden behind the walls. Artificial sunlight illuminated the huge room, centered on a huge opal carving of an angelic woman embracing some sort of egg-like object in her arms.

In chilling contrast to the pastoral scenery however, numerous thick wires and medical equipment dangled from the base of the egg and coiled around the statue's base until they disappeared into the ground. Heavy breathing could be heard from an oxygen mask permanently affixed to the front of the egg. A computer station resembling an ornate organ pipe monitored the egg's vitals, and the monitors were displaying some troubling results.

Luckily, Charles-Henri Sanson was there to deal with the problem. He worked feverishly to investigate what was wrong with the Terminal and correct it as soon as possible. Unlike his Assassin variant, this version of him was garbed in tattered black robes and a mantle reminiscent of the Grim Reaper. The image of a human ribcage was painted on the front, and his hooked sword had warped to resemble a scythe. His hair and eyes remained the same, but he seemed a lot more dreary and miserable than usual. Usually he would wear a plain white mask that obscured his facial features, but he took it off whenever he had to use the Grail Terminal's computer.

Despite his macabre change in appearance, he was essentially the same soft-spoken young man who deeply cared for those around him. Here in Akakor though, his entire world revolved around Connla Cliste's welfare. He no longer had any space in his heart to give a shit about anyone else.

Sanson rapidly tapped his fingers on the keyboard in a desperate attempt to get any information he could out of the computer. Just then, the screen went blue, and an unending barrage of gibberish assaulted the screen. Line by line, more and more random letters and symbols scribbled themselves over the blue background like some child bashing their hands against the keyboard. Sanson spent the next while trying to regain control of the Terminal, and by extension Cliste's psyche.

"This isn't good…" he gasped under his breath.

If such a massive error was crippling the system, then Sanson realized that something was seriously wrong with Cliste herself. The entire network was dependent on her state of mind, which was precisely why he, Spartacus and Leonidas had devoted themselves to keeping her both safe and content. For this error to suddenly assault the Terminal, it meant that Connla had probably dreamed of something that was absolutely horrifying to her, and her reaction wound up causing the system to go haywire.

"Calm down," Sanson yelped, not just to himself, but to Cliste as well. "Calm down. Calm down. Everything's fine. You're going to be okay. Just take some deep breaths…"

The entire ordeal only lasted five minutes, and as quickly as it started, the blue screens and nonsensical text ceased. Sanson finally regained control of the Terminal once he injected some sedatives into the capsule, which calmed Cliste down enough for him to reach out to her. He soon asked, "Are you okay?"

"… aFsQnjk;'F…"

Some kind of hideous squeak blurted out of the speaker. Then the sound elevated into some kind of terrifying, high-pitched squeal.

"KeeeEEeeeEEeeeeEEEEeee~!"

"Calm down! Focus on nothing but my voice! Do you know who I am!?"

"ihLafmdh][wwlh-!"

"Stay with me! Tell me who I am!"

"Keeeeee… Jsbm&w… Sa… San… son…"

"That's right! I'm one of your friends! Tell me who the other two are!"

"Gh… oulnb;… L… Leo… ta… cus… bwxwxwxwxw!"

"Come on, keep trying! You need to remember!"

"Le… o… nid… as…"

"That's right! What about the other!?"

"Uh… ygNoWth… Sp… arta… cus…"

"Good. Just take it easy," Sanson trembled with relief. The more Cliste recalled who her friends were, the more control he regained of the Terminal.

"Ah… I… had a… terrible dream…" she uttered. "What… happened to me?"

"It's okay. You were just frightened, that's all."

"Uuh… My head… hurts… like it's… being split by an axe…"

"Do you want some morphine?" he asked, not actually expecting a response from her. If she was in any kind of pain, he would administer heavy doses of medication directly to the brain to keep her at ease. This was his primary job as one of her Caretakers – aside from being an executioner, his medical knowledge proved to be invaluable for her upkeep.

"Ahh… I feel better already…" she murmured. Her tone of voice gradually improved, but she still sounded incredibly exhausted. She started to moan, which broke Sanson's heart. He knew what she was going to say next:

"No more. No more… I want out…"

"I know," he whispered and stroked the capsule.

"I keep seeing nightmares over and over again… I'm tired of this… I want to go home…"

"I know. I'm sick of this too."

"I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die."

As Cliste kept wailing those four words over and over again, Sanson's eyes welled up with tears. She had already died once, and by his own hand no less, so he believed it should have ended there. Alas, she was trapped in a state between life and death – a hellish limbo where she wasn't allowed to live since she had been beheaded, yet she wasn't allowed to die because her cranial Runes provided the citizens of this dying world with the Gates. Even after spending so long as Cliste's caretaker, Sanson still couldn't believe how the Mages could be so callous as to force all of the world's sins and desires onto her small shoulders.

How many times had he been tempted to take his sword and cleave it through the capsule?

Unfortunately, Sanson was bound to a Command Spell that forced him to keep Cliste alive. Leonidas and Spartacus were in a similar predicament. They couldn't bring the death she so desperately wanted. All they could do was watch her suffer and provide her with even a modicum of peace so she wouldn't go berserk. If she did, who knew what would happen if the Mages tried to intervene with her care? He vowed never to let it get that bad.

A small red light on the monitor alerted him. He turned toward the door, cleverly disguised so that it blended in with the scenery. The wall slid open, allowing for another man to enter. Sanson faced the gentleman, then murmured, "I knew you'd come."

"Pardon the intrusion. I've been informed that the Terminal had been disconnected from the network for a brief while. The Family Tree's top Mages have hired me to ensure that the Spirit Origin is at rest."

The newcomer was an Avenger-class Servant best known by his nickname, the Man in Grey. His True Name was Antonio Salieri, the Italian composer who spent his entire life performing for the Habsburg Monarchy and was a mutual friend of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. His popularity waned after accusations of Salieri murdering Mozart pervaded his life, though such slander was proven to be false in later years. Nevertheless, Salieri had been tried and charged by the court of public opinion, and his manifestation as a Servant reflected this. Although he appeared calm and professional in his sleek pinstripe suit, the tired look in his eyes suggested that he could fly into a bout of mania the moment someone said something he didn't like.

Sanson frowned hard and scowled, "Hmph. More like they're just sending you as an overseer to make sure Leonidas, Spartacus and I are doing our jobs properly."

"I am not privy to the minds of those who do not appreciate the true value of the musical arts. The commission for this performance is most exorbitant, but I am not here for that reason. I have come on my own volition to see the Terminal for myself, and to debut my finest masterpieces that I have reserved only for her to hear. Not even the highest-ranked demons of the Family Tree have enjoyed the privilege of hearing these scores. Hm hm, how I will enjoy their scorn as I deprive them of such an esteemed honor."

Sanson didn't reply to Salieri's ranting. However deranged the Man in Grey was to everyone else, there was no doubt that he showed whatever kindness he had left in his heart for Cliste, and Sanson certainly wasn't going to complain about that. Salieri wasn't allowed to stay in the Preservatorium at all times like the Caretakers were, but he was still granted special access so that he could perform whenever Cliste needed to be soothed into slumber.

Salieri stepped toward the grand piano and pressed one of the keys several times. He murmured, "Hmm… It would seem the latest tune-up was only done recently. Such a clean, crisp sound… Those pieces of junk the Mages call pianos cannot even begin to compare to this one."

"I took care of it last week," Sanson said. "I'm not musically inclined like you are, so let me know if you notice anything wrong."

"Of course."

The former Assassin passed by the Avenger, then muttered, "I'll be returning to Salazere. I've been hearing rumors of some unusual characters prowling around Akakor, so I need to protect the shrine. Not to mention that I need to keep the guardian Servant under control."

"The one that the Association performed the forced Pseudo-Servant conversion on? I hear it's quite the ghastly process."

"His Spirit Origin levels are stable, but his mind clearly isn't. Good grief, what do the Mages think I am, some kind of counselor for spiritually broken Servants?"

"Well, whatever. You can leave this matter to me."

Sanson nodded, then left through the same entrance Salieri used. Once he was alone, the composer approached the Grail Terminal and announced, "Good day, young lady. I understand that you are not feeling well."

"…"

"My, you look absolutely terrible. Have you not been sleeping well?"

"…"

He paused. Usually she would say something to him. Her silence unnerved him, but he exercised the utmost patience with her. Maybe she wasn't in the mood for conversation today. He opted not to prod her any further and attempted to approach the piano.

Suddenly, all of the lights flickered off. He yelped in surprise from being swallowed in unexpected darkness. His chest seized up. He had never heard of blackouts happening in the Preservatorium, so this totally shocked him. He was sure there was still power being fed to the Terminal and the fans, so he was confident that only the lights were affected.

Then a new source of light bright caught Salieri's attention. His eyes widened as he stared at the monitors. Of the four, three of them remained as blue error screens. The last one displayed what looked to be grainy monochrome footage from some aged VHS tape. The screen flickered with distortions, but the image was clear enough for him to see.

The scene appeared to be from Connla Cliste's perspective, way back when she was Lancer of Akakor. She was walking towards a familiar golden goblet, swaying from side to side like some possessed zombie. Something was covering her mouth… Was it a mask? Or perhaps a dog muzzle? Aside from that, Salieri could only see her hands as she reached out and touched the shining cup's base. She trembled multiple times. Her distorted breathing sounded like heavy gasps of desperation. Her vision became watery as tears flowed out.

Salieri couldn't tear his eyes away from the monitor. This wasn't a recording he was watching – it was a memory, fed directly from Cliste's very mind.

As he continued watching the disturbing footage, he felt his own sanity slipping. He knew about the Southern Hemisphere Extinction, and of the circumstances behind it. He knew he was watching the moment it happened. It couldn't be anything but that. And yet, something felt wrong about the whole thing. This wasn't a crime committed by a Servant who loved making others suffer. She was terrified out of her mind. She didn't want to do this. The muzzle prevented her from speaking though, and her movements appeared forced rather than voluntary.

Then, moments before the disaster happened, Cliste looked over to her side…

"Ah… Ah… AAA~AAAH!" Salieri cried out. He grabbed his hair and stumbled about. "So that's what it was! This is the truth that the Mages wanted to bury!"

He couldn't believe it. She showed him the truth. Whether or not she wanted to push him into doing something drastic was uncertain, but it definitely affected his fragile psyche. The musician had to hold on to the keyboard to steady himself. He took numerous deep breaths to compose himself. No matter what he did though, his despair refused to subside. He clenched his teeth. There was only one thing he could think of doing to rid himself of these dark emotions.

Salieri stood before the Terminal. He summoned a stiletto sword into his hand and gripped it tightly, and his arm trembled with trepidation. A sinister haze surrounded him for a moment, then dissipated to reveal him wearing a full-body set of dark clothes and armor, with a mask-like helmet that covered his entire cranium. Rage coursed through him as he pointed the thin sword at Cliste's forehead. Her eyes remained peacefully closed as she continued breathing through the mask.

The tension between them grew… and grew… and grew…

Then, Salieri lowered his weapon.

He couldn't bring himself to do it.

How could he?

He was once in a similar position to hers, being accused for the death of Mozart. If some stranger came along and offered to end his life to escape the torment, would he accept it? Of course not! Salieri wasn't responsible for anything in the first place! To allow himself to be killed was to admit that he murdered Mozart and was taking the coward's way out! In that moment, he realized what a dreadful position Cliste was in. Unlike him being innocent of his crime, she really had triggered the forbidden wish contained inside the 1866 Holy Grail. He wouldn't refute the evidence that she showed him.

But he also witnessed evidence of something much, much darker going on. If he were to kill Cliste so easily, it wouldn't do anything to punish the evil that had been pulling the poor girl's strings. Although Salieri wasn't the type to tout justice, he felt that these dark forces had been getting their way for far too long, and he wanted to do something about it. He wasn't sure what or how he was going to do it, but killing Cliste was not the solution that would satisfy him.

"Mr. Salieri?" Cliste finally murmured.

"My apologies," he moaned. The dark haze surrounded him again, and he transformed back into his human persona. "I know you summoned me to end your life. That's precisely why I got close to the Three Caretakers to act as your personal musician. But to actually do it… would be most hypocritical of me. Forgive me if I have disappointed you."

"… I understand. I shouldn't have asked you to do something so awful. I suppose I should just accept my fate of living like this forever as my punishment. I imagine all of the people I killed 50 years ago can rest in peace knowing that their killer is serving her sentence."

"Nonsense. If what you've shown me is true, then you did nothing wrong. No one would wish such a cruel and unusual punishment upon their fellow man."

"Even so-"

"Say no more. You need to go back to sleep, or else you will succumb to panic. You don't want to make the Caretakers worry about you any further than they already are, do you?"

Cliste cried, "I don't feel like I deserve such treatment. I committed genocide. A criminal like me shouldn't have to listen to such beautiful music… or be taken care of by anyone…"

"Be still, young one," Salieri whispered, gently stroking the capsule. "I harbor no such prejudice. My scores have been orchestrated so that only those who have been cast under suspicion can truly understand the emotions behind them. I know precisely what it is like to be framed for the darkest of crimes and tossed into the depths of Hell itself. I must admit with great shame that my so-called 'penance' does not come even close to yours. Nevertheless, I have done my best to convey the tragedy all the same. Do not trouble yourself any more, and settle to the tune of my soul. Hear me as I convey my grievances for your loathsome plight, and allow your soul connect to mine in harmonious glory."

"Mm."

The composer sat upon a nearby playing chair and held up a cello, then announced, "Our first song will be Bach's Cello Suite no. 5: Sarabande."

He commenced playing a deep melody that conveyed great sadness and loneliness. Yet, as Cliste listened to his songs, she realized just how much Salieri truly sympathized with her. He wasn't going to treat her poorly for the horrible sin she committed, since he understand exactly what it was like to be falsely accused of murder. Deep down, she knew she wasn't really responsible for that fateful catastrophe. She just couldn't rid herself of the idea that she needed to atone for it, regardless of what her intentions were back then.

For the next hour, Salieri continued playing through piece after piece of classical music, switching between provided instruments as necessary. Most of the scores he chose were of his own works such as Piano Concerto in B-flat major, Sinfonia Veneziana, and Larghetto. He delivered the best performances he could possibly give to an audience – even better than what he would have done for the most prestigious of kings. Cliste was fascinated by how talented he was, which made her feel even more guilty for asking him to murder her. She realized that killing was a job meant for professional assassins, not musicians, and she mentally lambasted herself for making such a foolish decision.

As Salieri finished playing Larghetto, he was about to pick up his violin and commence another song. However, Cliste suddenly uttered, "Mr. Salieri?"

"Yes?"

"Can I… ask you something?"

"Of course you may," he murmured, growing increasingly curious. "Even if it's about Mozart, I will keep myself in check and answer anything you wish to know about him. It's the least I can do for you."

"No, it's not about him. I was just wondering if you could… um… well…"

"If I could… what? Come, don't be shy. Speak your mind to me."

"Well… it's actually a bit of a favor…"

"Is there something you want me to do other than play music?"

"If it's not any trouble. I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to…"

Salieri grinned a little. "If it isn't too strenuous for me, then I'll see what I can do."

Cliste took a moment to compose her frayed nerves. After a minute, she asked him to lean his ear close to her lips so she could whisper her request. He listened intently, then murmured, "Hm… It's a bit out of the way, but nothing I can't handle. Consider your request granted."

"I'm sorry. I wish I could do it myself, but… well…"

"You're already doing more than enough, acting as the core for the Grail Terminal. My job will be especially trivial compared to what you are doing."

"If you say so…"

"Now then, are you well enough to get some rest, or would you like to hear more of my performance?"

"I'm getting rather sleepy, so I think I'm okay."

"Very well. Leave the rest to me."