Shirou gaped. The blond man – Arthur – exuded a sense of majesty, dignity, and, above all, power. Power enough that even he, with his heavily restricted abilities as a magus, could detect him. He instantly focused on the man, shoving the events of seconds ago to the back of his mind in light of the potential new threat.
Arthur turned to face Shirou directly. He spoke once more.
"I ask of you, are you my master?"
"I—" Shirou coughed, his throat not yet recovered from his near-strangulation, "I am."
Even if I'm not, Shirou reasoned furiously, I'm no match for the woman. If my analysis of the situation is correct, I'm no match for this man either, which means that I need to get him on my side. We'll deal with potential complications later, when I'm not at risk of imminent death.
The woman laughed, the ever-present trace of mockery gone.
"Well, Arthur, I can't say I ever expected to see you again. Much less here, of all places."
Arthur ignored her in favor of completing the odd ritual.
"I am servant Saber, summoned to you by the power of the grail. I accept you as my master. What are your orders?" As he said his piece, he kneeled in front of Shirou.
The engravings on Shirou's right hand flashed a brilliant gold, and Shirou immediately felt another drain on his already battered prana reserves.
I have an idea of what's going on thanks to Rin, and I need to analyze myself to figure out what just happened, but as I seem to have gained an ally, I think making sure I don't die is currently paramount.
"Saber, Arthur, whoever you are: I order you to protect me from this," Shirou pointed at the woman standing above his prone body, obviously enjoying herself, "woman."
Arthur bowed his head.
"It shall be done."
He stood to his full height, eclipsing the woman's frame, before turning to her. Recognition flashed in his widened eyes, and a slight smile touched his lips before he addressed her.
"Morgan, my master has commanded me to guard him from you. Would you be willing to leave without requiring me to resort to force?"
The woman smirked, her challenging but undeniably fond gaze focused on Arthur.
"And, brother, if I am not so willing?"
Arthur smiled, an equally challenging look directed at Morgan. His right gauntlet became cloaked in a swirl of deep orange light. As the light faded, Shirou saw that Arthur's gauntlet had turned to bronze, and he clutched a broadsword forged of the same alloy. The sword itself was covered in short curved spines, the tips glowing a bright red, and it possessed a basket-hilt patterned after a rosebush, small nubs and petaled caricatures substituting for thorns and flowers. This was a sword meant to tear, not to stab nor slash.
Clyfodran, sword of Sir Bors, recognized Shirou, bringing with it an image of the sword sinking into the hill he'd seen when summoning Arthur, resting hilt upwards next to the falchions he'd seen Rin's servant use. I really need to figure out what caused that vision, too, he thought.
"Then I shall force you away," said Arthur, keeping the smile on his face as he brought Clyfodran into a ready position, prompting an almost unnoticeable flinch from his prospective opponent.
Morgan's laughter filled the air once more as she raised her arms in an unmistakable gesture of surrender. She turned her gaze from Arthur, smiling at Shirou before addressing the newly instated Master.
"I have no wish to dissipate at the present moment, and my brother over there," she jerked an arm in Arthur's direction, the golden haired man keeping his sword in position to strike, "doesn't seem like he'll let me drain you, so I'm afraid I have to say goodbye. I'll see both of you later!" At the last word, her form disappeared, prompting Arthur to sigh.
Shirou blinked, surprised at her vanishing act, before turning to Arthur and raising an eyebrow at the latter's muted reaction.
"Servants are able to turn invisible and intangible, a form in which they drain less prana than when corporeal," Arthur explained. "My sister, however, has always been particularly talented with illusions, and it seems as though she took the moment when I equipped the sword of Sir Bors," Arthur gestured to his bronze right gauntlet, still clutching the thorn sword, "to replace herself with an illusion, masking her presence on her way out."
Most illusions don't talk, Shirou thought. He said as much to the man in front of him.
"I did say she was particularly talented, did I not?" Arthur grinned, before his expression turned serious.
"I suppose we should formally introduce ourselves to one another," he said. "I am Arthur Pendragon, Lord of Camelot, King of Britain, summoned as servant Saber by the power of the grail."
"I am Shirou Emiya, seventeen year old magus, apparently your master, and not entirely certain what's going on," Shirou responded, before taking a breath and continuing. "However, I will lay out my knowledge of the situation, sparse as it is, and hope that you can fill in the gaps."
Arthur's expression turned slightly contemplative when Shirou stated his last name, but he shook it off and replied.
"That is acceptable."
Shirou took another breath, trying recall the contents of his short conversation with Rin.
"I'm not certain what the artifact you sought for a good portion of your reign has to do with anything," at this Arthur looked surprised, as though he'd expected Shirou to be entirely ignorant of the king's history, "but I know that 'servants' aren't human and seem to be historical figures of some renown. Further, I believe that there are 7 different types of servant, likely named after their primary method of combat. You are Saber, and adept in the use of swords; I don't know if there are any other aspects of these classes."
Shirou paused, attempting to collect his thoughts.
"There is some form of battle going on between these servants, maybe to win the grail, but that's just a guess. In addition, each of these servants has an associated master, who feeds them prana. That's the sum of my knowledge; as you can probably tell, I didn't exactly intend to summon you," Shirou finished, a sheepish grin on his face.
Arthur considered his master's words for a moment, rubbed his beard with his left gauntlet, then responded. Shirou began to pay careful attention.
"First, this is not the grail I and my knights sought in our lifetime: it is some kind of manufactured object, created by humans for the purpose of granting wishes. For the grail to grant wishes, however, requires a significant amount of prana. Further, the grail is only capable of granting 2 wishes at one time."
Arthur stopped for a second, to ensure that the magus understood.
"In order to collect this prana, the grail war was conceived. Seven magi, referred to as masters, would summon seven heroes — servants — from past ages, who would fight until only one remained. The defeated servants would be converted into prana, which would fill the grail. The victorious servant and its master would each be granted a wish."
Wishes, huh. Any limitations? Shirou questioned to himself, but remained silent, urging Arthur to continue.
"In case the servants refused to fight for whatever reason, command seals," the king pointed to Shirou's right hand, "were created. With those seals, one can command a servant to do anything, though if the command is too broad, it functions less as an unbreakable oath and more as a suggestion. Additionally, the command seals can allow servants to ignore reality for a time, allowing for such feats as instant teleportation should a master command his servant's presence, or such feats of that ilk."
Shirou nodded. Arthur continued his explanation.
"You were correct regarding your thoughts on the classes, though a given servant is not limited solely to the style of fighting described by their class. Instead, servants gain strength in their determined class, though it is only on top of their base ability; for example, though I was very proficient with a sword in my lifetime, my current skill with a sword is leagues beyond that which it was when I still lived. Were I summoned as Lancer instead, my skill with a lance would gain a corresponding boost, though it would sum to less than my current skill with a sword."
"So you're saying that classes give benefits, but that personal skill is equally important?"
"Indeed. You are aware of the seven classes?" Arthur gave as a rejoinder.
Shirou thought for a second. "Saber, Lancer, Rider, Assassin, Caster, Berserker, and Archer, right?"
Arthur nodded.
"Correct. Beyond class and personal skill, however, heroes summoned by the grail are granted phenomena known as noble phantasms, corresponding to abilities reflecting the lives and heroics of the hero in question. These are often the most powerful abilities a given hero possesses, and these range from legendary weaponry, to magical abilities, to intangible concepts. In addition, these phantasms are usually unique to a given person. As an example of one of my phantasms, I possess the sword Excalibur."
Arthur finished his rundown of the grail war, urging Clyfodran to disappear, whereupon his gauntlet returned to normal.
"Do you have any questions?"
Shirou stared at Arthur for a minute, making certain he'd categorized all relevant information.
Okay, seven masters, seven servants, fighting over a device that grants wishes. That only works if all but one of the servants kill each other.
He frowned.
I don't really approve, and once I've talked things over with Arthur, we're going to need to discuss how to approach this.
Arthur repeated his earlier availability regarding Shirou's questions, looking concernedly at the frowning magus.
I have quite a few questions, yes, Shirou thought sarcastically. He sighed and schooled his features. Right. Well, I should probably get a sense of what he's capable of.
"Aside from what exactly is going on with your right hand," Shirou pointed to his servant's gauntlet, seemingly grasped around the hilt of a sword despite Arthur's shift from his other weapon, "I'd like to know a few things about you."
Arthur looked wistful for a second, though his expression shifted into befuddlement before arriving at neutrality.
"What do you wish to know?" the king asked.
"For one, beyond your skill with a sword, what other skills do you have, non-Excalibur noble phantasms included?" Shirou asked.
Arthur responded by shaking his head.
"This is obviously not a secure location, as shown by Morgan's former presence, and I'd prefer not to let the other servants and masters know that I have skills beyond my possession of Excalibur."
Shirou accepted his answer with a nod.
"Alright then. I had some more questions along those lines, and I would additionally like you to tell me any skills possessed by all servants, but we can handle that inside my house. Next question: how do you know all of this stuff? Furthermore, how are you speaking Japanese?"
Arthur nodded in turn.
"I am aware of this information because of the grail. When it summons heroes to fight in the grail war, it supplies basic information on the war itself in addition to the contemporary era, including knowledge of the servant's master's language. If I were to be summoned to a bilingual master, I would be granted familiarity with both languages spoken by my master. As you personally possess a rough familiarity with modern English and German, I am capable of speaking the two languages in addition to your native tongue." He paused. "I happen to know more than many other servants for reasons that, again, I do not feel should be disclosed in public."
Arthur smiled.
"On that topic, I agree that we should head into your house to continue this conversation."
"Good idea," Shirou responded, and motioned for Arthur to follow. The two of them exited the remnants of Kiritsugu's old workshop and proceeded to the door, though not before Shirou picked up his bow and backpack and realized the key was still in the lock.
I'm rather fortunate that no one broke in, Shirou thought, a slight grin coming to his face as he opened the door.
The room was modestly sized and furnished in an earth-like tone, the window shades and wallpaper variants of the same light brown color. There was a small padded chair that looked well-sat in, and an electric kotatsu, the small wooden table covered in an emerald green blanket. The floor was polished wood, though there was a carpet with the design of 2 knights in battle placed under the chair and table, and a floor mat could be seen peaking out from underneath the carpet. About 6 meters from the chair sat a small television on a short stand, low enough to be seen while eating but high enough to comfortably view from the chair.
"Well, I'm sure it's no Camelot, but make yourself at home. The chair's yours if you want it, by the way," Shirou stated, looking around somewhat fondly. Arthur paused, taking in the unfamiliar room, and gingerly sat on the chair, trying to make sure that the added weight of his armor didn't break the furniture.
Shirou locked the door, sat by the table, and looked up at the seated knight.
"Well, this is as private as we're going to get: my father set up some bounded fields to ensure privacy, and I'm not exactly proficient in their creation, myself."
Arthur nodded.
"Yes, I've noticed that your prana is...strange. Do you mind telling me about it?"
The teenager laughed nervously, fidgeting a bit.
"Well, how much do you know about magecraft?"
Arthur stared at him, then let out a chuckle.
"Merlin was my main advisor. I daresay I know quite a bit, and have even dabbled in it myself."
Shirou looked down for a second, firmed his shoulders, and looked unflinchingly at Arthur.
"The truth is, I'm almost useless as a magus. The only things I'm really good at are reinforcement and projection, though I can combine the two to create longer lasting projections."
He paused, trying to give a bit of gravitas to his next statement.
"However, I've developed a skill called structural analysis, which basically lets me see the component parts and history of any individual item I can touch; even see, for certain items. I can tell you about how I managed it some other time, if you're interested, it involves me accidentally turning a bunch of my nerves into extra magic circuits, but the important part is that it makes my reinforcement and projection much more useful than they would otherwise be."
"For example," Shirou held out his hand, thought "Trace On", and created a short wooden club, plunging a dagger through it, before placing the pierced club to the side and re-projecting an unblemished club, "normal reinforcement works like this."
He projected another dagger, haphazardly reinforced the club to augment its properties, and struck it with the blade. The dagger barely nicked the wood before coming to a stop, vibrating with the force of the strike.
The magus projected a third club, and continued talking.
"However, I can see the specific flow of the grains in the wood, and with a bit of minor alteration, I can do this."
Shirou concentrated, specifically reinforcing the bond between the individual strands of wood, forming the club into a more compact whole. He projected yet another iron dagger, and tried to bury it in the wood. Unlike the prior two results, the iron entirely failed to penetrate, its form bending in protest of the motion. The magus sighed.
"If I were more adept at chemistry, I could probably do this even better: I've gotten to a microscopic level, but I'm still not able to reinforce past that."
Arthur looked suitably impressed.
"I see how your analysis improves your reinforcement, but how does it improve your projection?"
Shirou smiled.
"When I project something, I don't project my idea of it; I project its entire history, complexity and all. Where a normal magus could only project a simple dagger, I can project far more elaborate weapons." Shirou pictured a double edged sword he'd seen on a trip with Kiritsugu to the British Museum, their last vacation before his father's death. Slowly, the sword he'd pictured came into existence, from the iron blade's inscription to the silver and copper inlays in the hilt.
Arthur peered over his shoulder before letting out a loud guffaw.
Shirou frowned, looking at his servant.
What's so funny?
Arthur caught sight of the expression on his master's face, before gesturing to the sword and dropping his laughter to a chuckle.
"The inscription on the blade is a rather impolite insult in Welsh," he explained, smiling.
The king paused, forehead bunched in thought.
"What of other objects? Can you create weapons of your own, without copying them?"
Shirou's smile was a bit wry.
"Well, actually, while I can reinforce just about anything, I'm not easily able to project anything other than bladed weapons. I can do it, but it costs a significant amount of prana. The reason for this is...you are aware of elements and origins, yes?"
"Shirou, my instructor was Merlin," Arthur drily reminded the young magus.
Taking that as the affirmation it was, Shirou elaborated.
"Both my element and origin are sword. Because of structural analysis, I am capable of using the same techniques on other objects, but, as I said, it drains my prana extremely quickly." He paused for breath. "As for your second question, I think I'm theoretically capable of it, but I'd never actually thought to try. My knowledge of metallurgy and blacksmithing is rather limited."
Shirou thought for a second before widening his eyes.
"Oh, I almost forgot! I don't use this often, because it doesn't seem especially useful, but I can do something else as well."
He picked up the dagger that had bounced off the structurally reinforced club, dismissing all of his other projections. He concentrated, and the dagger burst into pale white flame.
Despite the coloration, Shirou felt no heat from the dagger, even passing his hand through the top of the flame without incident.
"This doesn't seem to do anything beyond look pretty and drain my prana," he explained, "I've experimented with it quite a bit and it doesn't seem to enhance the properties of the weapon in any manner."
He looked over to Arthur, who was staring rigidly at the dagger in Shirou's hand.
"Shirou. That—" Arthur pointed at the dagger, "is divine fire. How exactly are you managing this?"
The young magus became contemplative.
"It works almost like a mental switch, actually. If it's on, all of my projected weapons come out with the flame, and if it's off, none do. Before you ask, I'm not certain exactly where I got this ability, but I've had it ever since I started training under my father."
"I understand. Nevertheless, you should be made aware that it is extremely dangerous. Specifically, it is one of few things which can easily harm a heroic spirit such as myself, and its effects on any other divine object are quite unpredictable," Arthur explained.
How is Arthur even aware of the nature of the flame I can summon? Oh, wait, he was taught by Merlin. He probably knows far more about magecraft than I do. No need to get the same answer a third time.
"Well," Shirou said, "that should make an interesting trump card."
He let the dagger projection dissipate before turning back to Arthur, though he paused.
This whole discussion about analysis reminds me, I need to check out exactly what this master-servant bond has done to me, Shirou considered.
"Hey, Arthur," the magus looked over at his servant and asked, "while I still have many questions I'd like answered, I'd like to take a short break to analyze myself. Do you mind waiting while I do so?"
"Go on," replied the king, who seemed to have calmed down and was staring in fascination at the television set.
Shirou heard the answer and looked inward, stretching his awareness to his right hand and hyperfocusing on the seals. He felt the prana flow from him to Arthur, and delved deeper. The command seals themselves were incredibly complex, especially for someone as untalented in normal magecraft as he, but he did see a secondary, currently inert channel of prana flow stretching from each seal to the British king.
Those must be the method by which the command seals actually transmit the commands, Shirou considered before absentmindedly analyzing the rest of his body.
Unbidden, thoughts of the thorned sword Arthur wielded in his defense sprang to his mind. I wonder..., thought Shirou. He began picturing the sword in his mind, from its well-crafted hilt to its sleek blade. He considered the thorns, tipped by a red glow, and—
The sword's design commemorates the time Sir Bors left his brother Lionel to be whipped by thorns, instead choosing to rescue a kidnapped woman. Its proper use is, when slashing, to dig into an enemy's flesh and rip, the thorns heating to high temperatures to expedite–
Shirou gasped, his head pounding, but he felt a thrumming beneath his skin, and focused again on the picture of the blade in his mind. He considered the hilt of the blade, its sculpting an echo of a rose, the patterned flowers and—
Sir Bors fought against the pagan inhabitants of the isle of Sarras, fallen to immorality with the departure of Joseph of Arimathea's line, the final stop on the quest for—
Shirou could almost feel the blade, from its smooth grip to its sharp bronze blade, its slight pommel and—
Bors' blade was used to slay Sir Gareth when Bors and Lancelot rode to save Guinivere from execution, the act that exiled Lancelot's faction to France and led to the final fall of—
His head felt as though it was on fire, his spine was burning, and his hands shook. He pictured the sword once more, and—
The knight saw battle once more against Melehan the Usurper, eldest son of Mordred, after Melehan murdered Lionel. Bors' weapon rent his flesh, despite his pleas, and slew the wicked—
He saw the blade in its position on the hill, and it rose to him. He focused on its contours, the intricate patterns of the basket hilt, the thorns placed for maximum tear, the blade sharpened by enchantment of Nimue. He felt the weight in his fingers, whispered his trigger phrase, and—
Arthur stood with a crash, staring at Shirou's hand. His right gauntlet shone bronze, warping until the grip in his palm was that of Bors' blade. The king had a strange look in his eyes, a combination of fear and awe. For the first time since Shirou summoned him, the monarch looked uncertain.
"What...how...?" Arthur's words came out in a whisper, his gaze locked past Shirou's wrists.
Shirou looked down and flinched, a tremor making its way through his body. In his palm was Clyfodran, yet not: its thorns shone a dull red, and its engraved hilt looked vaguely ill-defined. But the blade glowed, an orange aura forming around it. It felt like nothing he had ever experienced before: he could feel the devotion Bors felt towards Lancelot, his anguish upon the mistaken slaughter of Gareth, and the regret he felt towards breaking the compact with his liege. Indeed, he—
The magus gave a sickening cry, his back arched as agonizing tendrils of energy passed through his spine and into the sword. He let go with a gasp, and whatever had formed in his hand slipped through his fingers before disappearing into prana. He brought his left hand to his head and it came away slick with sweat. With a sigh, he began to collapse backwards, his form caught by the waiting hands of a kneeling Arthur.
"Shirou, are you alright?" asked Arthur, his face taut with worry and his gauntlet back to normal.
The boy nodded weakly, taking deep, gulping breaths.
What happened to me? For a second there it was as if I...
"I do not know what just happened, but Shirou: it felt as though you had become Bors for a brief moment in time." Arthur looked concerned, but guarded. "Are you certain that you are unharmed?"
Shirou nodded again, this time less shakily. He tried to stand, though he had to use Arthur for support. The magus grimaced.
Best turn off that so-called mental switch, he thought.
"I'm not quite sure what that was, but I have an idea." The boy took a deep breath and pushed off of his servant onto his own feet, wobbling slightly but otherwise stable.
Arthur stiffened.
"Master, your idea will have to wait. I have just detected two prana signatures approaching, and one is almost certainly a servant."
Shirou took hesitant steps until he stood beside the door, stating his activation phrase and projecting the same engraved sword he'd shown Arthur into his hand. Arthur took up a position on the other side of the door, his gauntlets clenched over what Shirou was slowly coming to realize was an invisible sword.
"They should be arriving within seconds, master," Arthur whispered, his words almost drowned out by Shirou's rapid heartbeat. "Move on the count of three."
Shirou nodded jerkily, bracing himself for a leap.
"One." Shirou heard footsteps approaching.
"Two." Arthur entered a crouch, ready to swing at the first entrant. The steps reached the door.
"Three!" Shirou barely checked his swing as instead of the door bursting open, he heard loud knocking. A voice he recognized followed.
"Open this door right now, Shirou Emiya, or I'll break it down!"
He groaned. Of course it was Rin.
AN: It may have been unclear in my last AN, but I quite like criticism. If my plot ever goes incoherent, my characters inconsistent, or my mechanical writing skill pathetic, please take the time to tell me. I may have future plans that rely on apparent inconsistencies, but it's always good to hear responses. Heck, even if it's just affirmation that you feel I'm doing the right thing (or a statement that you dislike how I'm doing things, preferably including where you find yourself with a problem), I'll appreciate it. I may not change things, whether out of laziness (a terrible but nonetheless honest reason) or future plot considerations, but I'll take it all under advisement.
That said, what I would prefer not to get is criticism over how well I adhere to canon characterization, mechanics, or plot elements: all fanfiction is by necessity non-canon, and there's no intrinsic value in adhering more closely than not. There's certainly danger in deviating too far, but that's because it's much harder to do well, not because the "natural" state of things is better. I'm not going to just change things for no reason, mind you, but I kinda have to change a bunch of things if I want to do everything I plan to. Don't worry: Shirou is still Shirou, they're still going after the grail, Rin is still alternately sweet and terrifying, there are seven masters and seven servants, and so on.
