Alright, here's the Q and A section for this chapter.

KimranReech: Thanks for the advice, and never worry about upsetting me about it. This story is as much a learning experience as it is a way to work this brain bug out of my head, and I welcome all constructive criticism.

SentinelSlice: Yeah, I don't plan on Shirou projecting Caliburn anywhere in this story, and and what few noble phantasms Fate Route Shirou has access to won't show up for a long while yet.

Artoria

'Gods above, it is so much worse in daylight.'

After the fires had been extinguished and the Saxons… dealt with, my knights and I had camped south of Caer Afon for the night. With so many left homeless by the blaze, it would have been selfish beyond measure to demand lodging for ourselves while the townsfolk went without. Only now, when I was riding into town with Merlin to conduct business, was the full scope of the damage apparent.

Our journey through the southern outskirts took us past a scene of desolation. Charred skeletons of houses lined the street, nothing but ashy half-collapsed timbers marking where people's homes had once been, and the air was still thick with the stench of smoke. Whatever their reasons, the Saxons had taken care to burn this area thoroughly.

The sight of this work of pointless arson rekindled my fury at the perpetrators. 'Accursed barbarians.'

My words last night were prophetic: No quarter was given. The few Saxons that escaped my knights and the militia were driven into the Forest of Arden, where a gruesome death awaited them. Ordinarily I would feel some remorse for inflicting such a fate on a human being, but seeing their work made that vanish like a puff of smoke. Those Saxons thought us mere sheep to be preyed upon? Then let them experience what they planned to inflict on the town. Perhaps they would appreciate the irony while the werewolves gnawed on their bones.

My dark mood lifted as we passed Merlin's fire cordon, and the devastated landscape gave way to more intact buildings further up the road, a reminder that while the town had been savaged, not all was lost. These homes were marred by kicked-in doors and patches of soot, but they were still habitable, and within a fortnight the damage would vanish like a bad dream.

Merlin's quick thinking had saved the town from further destruction when he extinguished the worst of the fires and confined the blaze to the southern outskirts. Without his efforts, the fire may have turned the whole town into a pile of charcoal.

The damage petered off over the next hundred yards before disappearing entirely. And there among these more fortunate townsfolk laid our destination this morning, the large two-story dwelling of Caer Afon's headman.

After the last of the raiders were driven off, I had returned with my knights and tasked Merlin with healing the magus that broke the Saxon line. While… strange happenings had proven his intervention unnecessary, it gave us the opportunity to meet Llywelyn.

The man had raced over to the magus, face white as a sheet upon seeing his body, and after we calmed him down, he took the boy home for the night. But before he wandered off, we had arranged a meeting for this morning to discuss some matters. While we were honor-bound to drive off the Saxon threat, my company had come here for a reason.

After dismounting Llamrei and tying her reins to one of the porch's posts, I climbed the stairs and knocked on the door marked "Headman." Merlin joined me at the doorstep a moment later, eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"Do you suppose our young magus is awake?"

"I do not know Merlin, it depends on how quickly he recovered. But in any case, we have other matters to discuss this morning."

Muffled footsteps cut out discussion short, and the door swung open to reveal our host. The redhead stood there blinking for a moment, before dropping into a hasty bow.

"Oh! Top of the morning to you… your majesty, how are you this morning?"

"Quite well Llywelyn, and feel free to call me Arthur." No need to make this discussion more uncomfortable than necessary. His hesitation had not escaped my notice, though I hardly blamed him.

Some of the tension eased out of his shoulders. "Thank you Arthur, I reckon you're here for that talk you mentioned?"

"Correct, may we come in?"

"Sure, sure." He waved us in, before noticing the second figure on his porch. "By the way, didn't catch your name last night, who are you?"

My advisor graced him with a serene smile. "The wizard Merlin."

This pronouncement made Llywelyn goggle and me nearly face-palm. Now was not the time for attention seeking!

But a moment's thought made me reconsider. Perhaps Merlin had the right idea awing the headman before the meeting?

'You know what? I can work with this. One more edge in negotiations cannot hurt.'

"Merlin is my advisor, so I brought him to this discussion, if that is not too much trouble?"

He rapidly shook his head. "No, no, no trouble at all, come on in!" He scampered back into the house and pulled out a pair of chairs at the table.

The two of us took the offered seats, and once Llywelyn joined us on the opposite side, I began my pitch.

"Now, I suppose you are wondering why I requested this meeting, are you not?"

His face fell. "I reckon it's payment, right? Look, we're simple folk, we don't have the coin to pay for the services of knights, notthatwecan'tpayinotherways—"

"Stop right there my good man." He ceased his panicked rambling as I looked him in the eye. "Far be it from me to demand payment for performing my duty as a king and a knight."

Seeing the man sag in relief, I continued. "That being said, my men and I did come here for a reason, and it just so happens to relate to events last night."

'Alright Artoria, time to set the scene.'

"As you are well aware, our people are under attack. The Jutes, Angles, and Saxons have conquered much of the eastern and southern coasts, and raid at will into our interior. And to the north, the Picts and Damnonii do much the same. While some on the frontiers have done their best to hold the line, those are few and far between, and the rest seem content with feasting and holding jousts while the realm burns."

Memories bubbled up of my entreaties meeting vicious mockery and condescension from those cowardly wastrels, and my fists clenched. Judging from Llywelyn's hard gaze, he was none too impressed himself.

"Yeah, bunch of lazy cunts that lot is." Then he realized his slipup and waved his hands. "Pardon my language milord, just spilled out."

"No worries Llywelyn, that is far from the worst I have heard." Kay for one had a rather colorful vocabulary for a knight. And while those were not the words I would use, I agreed with their spirit.

"But that brings me to my next point. If the kings of the west will not save our people, then I will."

My eyes blazed and pinned Llywelyn to his chair. "I have been given a sacred duty, to end this age of chaos and save our island from the invaders at our doorstep. Since Vortigern slew my father, Britain has lacked a leader able to rally the warring kings against our foes, but I have been chosen to fulfill this role. The road to our salvation is long and treacherous, but we will get there, this I swear to you. But I cannot do it alone. Can I count on your support, Llywelyn, to help me bring peace to the land?"

By the end of my speech, the man looked ready to bolt. He was doing his level best to merge with his chair while avoiding my gaze. It was obvious that he thought me a raving lunatic, but with one last push, he would become a believer.

'Come on, say it! I know you want to.'

Llywelyn gulped, then spoke again. "W-why do you think that, milord? Who gave you this duty?"

A golden sword clattered to the table, and I locked eyes with him once more.

"This did. See this blade? This is Caliburn, the Sword of Selection. I pulled it from the stone a year ago."

My fingers traced the inscription on the hilt, and his eyes widened in awe. "It was prophesied that whoever drew this sword from the stone would be king of all Britain, and save the island from the invaders. Kings and knights from across the land tried to draw it, and all failed. But just as all hope was lost, and they were ready to hold a joust of all things to choose the king, I succeeded. So with that in mind, I ask of you, will you stand with me?"

The man sat still as a statue before me. My request had clearly overwhelmed him, but after a long pause he shook himself out of his stupor and broke the silence.

"Why me? Why Caer Afon? We're just a little town on the edge of the woods with less than a thousand people, why choose us when there are plenty of wealthier towns that could give you more?"

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "And while we're at it, why is this the first I'm hearing of you? You said you drew that sword a year ago, but I haven't seen any armies coming to save the day. What have you been doing all this time?"

'Getting treated like a laughingstock' I did not say. My host would not be convinced by pity. But perhaps pride coupled with self-interest would do the trick?

"You are correct Llywelyn, there are many towns and cities that could do more for me than Caer Afon. Unfortunately, none of them are interested."

A rueful smile appeared on my lips. "After mastering Caliburn, I first searched for supporters among the cities of the west. Recall what I told you about their kings. If they refuse to do their duty, why would they help another do it in their stead? They are much like crabs in a bucket, refusing to tackle the problem themselves yet preventing others from doing the same."

Perhaps that was unfair to King Cyngen, he at least had given us some token aid, but no use weakening my argument. Now, for one last push. "So you see, that is why I came to Caer Afon. You may be few in number, but at least you see the necessity of fighting the Saxons. And what is more, this town is ripe with potential."

Llywelyn's eyebrows shot into his hair. "Potential?"

I pounced. "Indeed. Though this town is small now, the possibility exists to become something more. You sit near a juncture of two Roman roads and a major river, and lie nearly at the center of Britain. This area may be sparsely populated due to Saxon attacks, but for a young king looking to build a power base? It is an ideal strategic location. So, what do you say my good man, are you interested?"

The wheels turned in his head. It was practically a law of nature that wherever a long-term military encampment was built, a civilian settlement would spring up to supply it with amenities. Judging by that old fort, it would not surprise me if Caer Afon got its start in such a way. But what was interesting was what happened when a military encampment was built near a major trade nexus.

Viroconium, Deva, and fallen Lindum all had two things in common. All three began as legionary camps, and all three sat astride major crossroads. Crossroads like the one this town sat upon. If I built my power base here, and my campaign succeeded, this town may one day become a city!

It seemed Llywelyn came to the same conclusion, because a wide grin split his face. "Alright Arthur, I'll bite. You're looking for a place to build your army? Well, you've got your town!" The man puffed up in pride, and was reaching across the table to clasp my hand when a look chagrined realization replaced his smile. "Um, not sure if it's a problem, but I hope you have tents for your men, we're not exactly ready to host an army at the moment."

"No worries, my men would hardly be a burden."

He blinked, and his eyes narrowed. "Say, how many men do you have anyways? I saw you two and those knights last night, but no others. Where are the rest of your men?"

'Oh gods, please do not throw me out.'

Now was the moment of truth. Would he accept a beggar king?

My gaze met the table, and for a moment I felt every inch the teenager I was. "Those were my men."

"Pardon?"

"I said those were my men. At the moment my forces consist of Merlin here and two knights."

"What? That's it?" The man's jaw looked fit to fall off his face, he was so dismayed.

"I believe I told you why earlier." Bedivere had been the lone gem in all those despair-ridden months full of rejection, mockery, and boiled potatoes.

Llywelyn palmed his face, and sighed. "Guess I'm getting in on the ground floor." Then it was my turn to get pinned to my seat. "Now let's get this straight, right now, all you're bringing to the table is two knights, that sword, and a fancy suit of armor. My people will be the ones keeping you fed and watered, and I'm betting you'll recruit from us first."

He slowly leaned across the table until he was right in my face. "I want your word that if I let you build here, you won't abandon us for a better opportunity. Last thing I want is some city giving you a sweet deal and then you up stakes and leave us to wither on the vine."

As much as it burned to be treated like a common swindler, I respected the man's motives. This was his people's chance to rise, and he did not want it snatched away from them. So, despite the stench of his breath making my eyes water, I gave him a firm nod and stared him right in the eye.

"You have my word Llywelyn. While I cannot promise to live here forever, my forces will never abandon Caer Afon. After all, it was you, and not the kings of the west that gave me my first chance."

He studied me for a moment longer before nodding himself. "Suppose that's the best I'm going to get. Fine! Let's shake on it." The two of us clasped hands, and like that our pact was sealed.

It took all my composure not to leap out of my chair and dance a jig. Success! Well, not quite, I still needed to recruit the soldiers, but for once a leader of men had not turned me away at the door. A small town on the edge of the woods was a humble start, but it still was a start, things were finally looking up!

Then Llywelyn spoke again, breaking me out of my internal happy dance.

"Alright, now that we've got that out of the way, here come the gritty details." He worked his jaw back and forth, deep in thought. "Now, first things first, we'll need you get you set up in town. Not sure who you're rooming with now, but they won't keep you forever."

"Oh, that is not necessary, we did not wish to impose, so we camped south of the city."

Our host deadpanned. "Camped you say? Like in tents?"

"...Yes."

His eye-roll told me what he thought of that. "Alright, you lot can stay here, like hell am I letting my king sleep in a field."

"No need Llywelyn, we can take care of ourselves just fine."

A sharp cough drew my attention to Merlin's disapproving frown. "I'm sure the men would love that you made that decision for them, Arthur."

"And where were you when I was getting browbeaten a moment ago?"

"My job is to offer advice, not defend you from scary bakers."

'WHY YOU—'

My ire was cut off by a second cough. "As much as I'm enjoying the byplay," Llywelyn said, "let's get back on topic."

He leveled a hard haze at me. "Now don't get me wrong, I'm not doing this for charity, it's for the good of Caer Afon. This is no castle, but it's the biggest place in town, so of course the king should live here! My people stand to gain a lot from your success, but we won't get jack if all the recruits turn around and leave once they learn the king's homeless."

"PFFFFHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Merlin's hysterics drowned out any possible response to that, so I just sagged in my chair. Had this man not stared in silent awe a few minutes ago? Oh, what I would give to have that again, but of course that all evaporated when he learned my circumstances!

I huffed, then nodded my head. "Very well, if it is not too much trouble."

He waved me off. "Bah! Think nothing of it, there's plenty of room here, I'm already putting one guest up, what's a few more on top of that?"

"Speaking of which, would you mind answering a few questions about him? I was curious about his situation."

That was an understatement. Between his exotic features, fearlessness, and obvious use of magecraft, there were many questions I wanted answered. Partly pure curiosity, but mainly to scout a potential recruit.

That mad charge had been unbelievably foolish, but incredibly brave, and it opened the way for my men to drive away the Saxons. It was clear the boy had no clue how to fight on a battlefield, but the same could be said of any fresh recruit, and training would solve that problem.

But more importantly, the boy was a magus, and a magus swordsman at that! Who ever heard of such a thing? And no, Merlin did not count, he was a freak of nature. Not to mention he was willing to risk life and limb to protect the townsfolk. Experience had taught me that magi cared little for their fellow man beyond their value as magical reagents, and would sooner harm them than help them. Not even my own sister was immune, the wretched witch sent me a cursed cloak as congratulations for drawing Caliburn, and nearly burned me alive! And to think I looked up to her as a child!

So yes, when faced with such a rare commodity, rest assured that I was interested. And perhaps if he had the aptitude, we could make a knight of him in time? It would be many years before scores of knights marched under my banner, and magi that leapt to others' defense were rare as hens' teeth. This boy was a resource worth cultivating.

But more than his display of valor caught my interest. When Merlin had pulled the knife from his belly to begin healing, the wound had closed on its own.

Llywelyn cocked his head and gave me a knowing look. "Fool boy caught your eye, didn't he?"

"I cannot deny that his actions last night grabbed my attention."

He nodded in response. "True, true. Now, what would you like to know?"

Now where to begin?

"To start with, how did he come to live here? He is obviously foreign, what is he doing in the middle of rural Britain?"

All I got was a shrug. "Beats me. He wandered into town just a few days ago, all cut up and lost. If Madog's to be believed, he actually stumbled out of the Forest of Arden."

"Excuse me? How is he still alive?" He should have been ripped to pieces by the werewolf clans for intruding on their territory, magus or not— The Hole!

"Another mystery, Madog mentioned that something attacked the boy, but it sure wasn't a werewolf."

But Llywelyn's words did not reach me. An unprecedented magical calamity kills and incapacitates phantasmal beasts over a vast area, then a foreign magus stumbles out of a werewolf-infested forest practically unscathed? Something stunk.

"Now while we're on the subject, I have questions of my own." Llywelyn leaned forward and eyed me carefully. "What was up with the boy's arms?"

I blinked. "Pardon?"

"You know, his arms! Like, they were glowing!" The man waved his arms, as if his own limbs would light up. "Then he leaped clean over the wall and blew through two lines of men, what on earth was that? You hear about frightened men doing impossible feats, but glowing green ain't one of them."

"Oh, I see what you mean." Perhaps thankfully, Llywelyn had never met a magus before, he would not recognize magecraft when he saw it. "I believe my advisor could better answer your question. Merlin, if you would?"

The magus practically vibrated at the chance to lecture. "Gladly my king! Now Llywelyn, what you saw was what we magi call reinforcement, or strengthening."

Never one to pass up a chance for theatrics, he raised his right arm, and it blazed with pale blue light. "It is a magecraft that amplifies fundamental traits of objects, swords get sharper, armor gets harder, and muscles grow stronger!"

His arm swung down and smashed through the tabletop, spraying splinters everywhere and making Llywelyn leap out of his chair screaming in terror.

Oh, for God's sake!

I shook the wood chips out of my hair and rounded on the damned hellspawn. "WHAT THE HELL MERLIN!" Blasted drama queen! Did he want to scare our host to death?

With a snap of his fingers, the table reassembled itself, leaving the two of us staring dumbly at the grinning maniac. Then, as if he had not just destroyed and rebuilt a piece of furniture, he turned back to Llywelyn and resumed lecturing.

"So, you see my good man, that is why the young magus could run as quickly as he did and survive crashing through the shield wall. He briefly made himself far stronger and tougher than an ordinary man."

Our host was too busy clutching his chest to answer right away, but after a moment's heavy breathing he pulled himself together. "Wait! He…he's a wizard?"

I praised whatever god listening that that was what he focused on, and not my advisor wrecking his kitchen.

"Calling him a wizard is a bit much, but he definitely has magic circuits," Merlin replied.

Llywelyn sank into his seat, running his hands through his hair. "I had a wizard chopping my wood and cooking my meals."

Before I could ask about that little gem, footsteps thundered down the staircase, and the subject of our discussion raced into the kitchen and skidded to a stop before us.

"Oh, morning Shirou, sorry about the racket."

Only then did it occur to me that I had never asked for the boy's name. Mentally thanking Llywelyn for saving me from that awkward situation, I took the chance to study him.

Now that it was daytime and he was not covered in blood and splinters, some things became apparent. He stood a head taller than me, and was perhaps a year or two older, with bright red hair and a peculiar yellow-tan complexion. And now that he was conscious, his almond-shaped amber eyes were visible, eyes that I realized were staring right back at me.

'Why is he looking at me like that?'

The boy was wearing a complicated expression. Joy and grief intermingled on his face, and it was plain as day he wanted to say something, but held back. It was honestly quite unnerving, and I was about to speak up when Merlin cut me off.

"Honestly boy! Your reaction time is atrocious, what if we were under attack?"

He blinked, and the strange look vanished to be replaced with resignation. Turning to Merlin, a strange chattering language spilled out of his mouth.

"Moshiwakearimasenga, Brythoneg wa hanasemasen."

'What?'

Llywelyn hissed through his teeth. "Oooh, should have mentioned that he doesn't speak Brittonic."

Shirou

This day was starting to overwhelm me. Everything from the moment I woke up was one shock after another, as if yesterday wasn't bad enough!

The first had come when I woke up in bed. That had been suspicious enough, since I didn't remember going to sleep there, but then memories of last night came flooding back. The fire, the screams, the raider coughing up blood with my sword in his chest, it was all too much, and only a single thought saved me from a panic attack.

'It was necessary.'

If he hadn't died, he would have killed everyone in the fort, simple as that. There was no reasoning with that guy, no reasonable man burns down a town and attacks sheltering civilians. So as much as it pained me to have a second man's blood on my hands, I knew it needed to be done. Better to put my life on the line to save the town, than let some psycho murder them all.

Speaking of which, why was I still alive? Someone stabbed me in the gut last night, and people die when they're mortally wounded.

Pulling up my shirt gave me the second shock of the day.

The wound was gone. There wasn't a scab or even a scar down there, what was going on?

My first guess was the sheath. I'd been stabbed, bisected, and melted by liquid curses, and it brought me back each time, good as new. But that made no sense, Saber was gone, it shouldn't work anymore!

A girl in an armored dress galloped past me, wielding a glowing sword.

All the breath left my lungs in a whoosh. She was here. I didn't know how or why, but she was here last night. I had to go find her!

My thoughts were racing a mile a minute as I hurriedly laced my boots. Why was she here? How was she here? She died over a thousand years ago, how was she here...in...the...past…

I wanted to smack myself. The Grail had dumped me in the Dark Ages, somehow, so why not when Saber was alive?

'Is it hypocritical of me to be happy that the Grail did its job? Gonna have to ask Saber about that when I see her—'

Then reality hit me, and my heart shattered like glass.

That wasn't her.

Saber was dying on Camlann when she was summoned by the Grail, and this town was no field of corpses. No, that wasn't Saber, that was King Arthur last night protecting the villagers.

It was like getting stabbed all over again. The girl out there wasn't the one I fell in love with, the one that helped save Fuyuki. She was the girl that threw her heart away and spent her whole life wrapped in steel in a vain attempt to make everyone happy. If I ran out and found her, all I'd get was a confused look, and that would kill me deader than any knife would.

'Maybe the Grail cursed me after all.'

I was sitting on my bed feeling sorry for myself when a loud crash from downstairs made me jump and fall off my bed.

'Did the raiders come back?'

No time to find out. Whatever it was, it meant the house was in danger! I leapt to my feet and flew down the stairs, then got the shock of my life when I realized we had company.

And that brought me back to the present.

'Maybe it isn't so bad. At least she's alive.'

Sure enough, it was a punch in the heart to see the girl that would one day be Saber eying me like a stranger. Thankfully Merlin— because of course he was here— had grabbed my attention before I could embarrass myself. And now the two of them plus Llywelyn were babbling away in Brythoneg while I stood awkwardly in the kitchen doorway. Honestly should have expected that, not like King Arthur spoke Japanese.

Not sure what to think about their conversation though. I knew almost nothing of the language, but it looked like they were talking about me. Llywelyn kept waving my way, and I picked up the words "food" and "floor" somewhere in that mess.

Not-Saber—Artoria? Yes, Artoria! — meanwhile, she was staring at me like some sort of space alien, like she didn't know what to think of me. Granted, she might've been weirded out by the way I looked at her, but there must be more to it than that.

Eventually something must have come up, because their conversation stopped. Llywelyn glanced between me and the two visitors one last time, then stood up and snapped to get my attention.

Once he had it, he patted himself on the chest, "Out," then he gestured between me and our guests, "Talk."

…I got what he was trying to say, but didn't know how to feel about it. It wasn't like I understood Brythoneg any better than five minutes ago. But they must have told him something, maybe Merlin had a translation spell?

"Sure thing Llywelyn."

He gave me one last wave, then walked out the door.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Merlin and Artoria snapped their eyes to me. The former waved to the spot across the table and jabbed a finger at the seat.

…Well isn't that ominous.

I sat down where he wanted me, and quick as a blink he had my head in his hands.

"Ah!"

A jolt of pain passed through my head, followed by a sound like a broken stereo. And that's when the voices in my head showed up.

Good morning Shirou.

"Guh!" I jolted in my seat, but Merlin's hands held me steady.

Do try to control yourself boy. He winked, and released my head.

Okay, so not a translation spell. Guess telepathy's a close second, though definitely creepier.

I aim to please!

'…You heard everything I just thought, didn't you?'

You bet! Now, let's get down to business. The man's face turned deadly serious. Mind telling us where you're from Shirou? It's obvious you aren't local.

'Japan.'

Pardon?

Did they know about Japan in Dark Age Britain? A glance around said 'probably not.' Merlin looked befuddled, and Artoria was still giving me that inscrutable look. Speaking of which…

'Can she hear what we're saying?'

Merlin looked at me strangely. I think you mean he.

'Whoops.'

Yes, whoops. But no, this talk is between the two of us. Anyways, since I have never heard of this homeland of yours, let's move on to our next question. How did you get here? Your host said you wandered out of the forest.

…Now how to answer this? I couldn't say 'an evil magical hole dropped me out of the sky', he'd just think I was crazy!

'Umm… I don't know?'

His eyes bored into my own. Just so you know, I can tell when you're lying.

I froze solid. This was not good. He could see right through anything I said, but I couldn't tell him the whole truth. Guess I'd have to improvise.

'Umm… It was a magical accident!'

That was the wrong thing to say, since Merlin's eyes turned hard as diamonds.

A magical accident you say? Keep going, tell me what happened.

Well, I'd gotten myself into this hole, better keep digging. 'Back in my hometown, there were a bunch of magi doing this ritual and fighting over a magical artifact. I got sucked into it, and my… partner and I fought off the other magi, but then we learned it was cursed, so we destroyed it. Then the next thing I know I'm falling out of the sky over a forest.' There! That was vague enough to hide the crazy, while still being truthful.

Merlin's expression didn't budge, which was bad news for Shirou Emiya. He rattled off something to Artoria, and an ugly expression came over her face. She looked at me like I was something she'd scraped off her shoe, before snarling something at Merlin and storming out the front door.

'That… was the wrong thing to say.'

Indeed. Now that we're alone, let's get some real answers.

A crushing wave of force pulsed out from the man and pinned me to my seat. Straining against the weight accomplished nothing. He'd trapped me like a fly in a web, and as his cold eyes roamed over my frozen form, it looked like he was considering whether to eat me or not.

Listen well magus. While you did not lie, your words drip with deception. I don't know why you came here, but you reek of sorcery, so you had best start talking, before I crush you like an insect.

Trapped by the most powerful magus in Britain, I knew I was in a bind. But it was better to sound crazy than be dead, so the words poured out my mouth.

I told him about the Grail War. About the seven heroes of legend summoned to fight for an all-powerful wish. About fighting alongside Saber to protect the people of the city, and finally, Kirei's insanity, where he tried to unleash the Grail on Fuyuki. It was pure madness, but it was the honest truth, and I'd give it all to Merlin if it stopped his rage and undid the hurtful look on Artoria's face.

And it looked like the magus agreed. His eyebrows steadily raised higher and higher as I kept talking before vanishing into his hair, and when my story ended, he stared at me in silence.

For a moment his eyes searched my face, like he was looking for a tell. But nothing showed up, because he spoke again.

Well I asked for the truth, didn't I? To be honest, this is the biggest pile of lunacy I've ever heard.

I cringed. Great going Shirou, now he thought you were a nutjob.

At the same time, I know you're not lying to me. Partly because your mind doesn't feel mad, and partly because this ritual sounds… familiar.

He rolled his eyes. Just when I have a grasp on the hubris of magi, they find a new way to impress me. To pervert one of the World's workings? Besides, I'm familiar with the Throne, and ghost liners are a known phenomenon. Speaking of which, did you ever find out who yours was?

During my story, I'd held back two details, the identity of the servants, and the time I came from. It sounded like a bad idea to say I'd been ordering around his king, and the story was crazy enough without bringing time travel into the equation. But if I answered no, he'd know I was lying, so I kept quiet.

After a few moments of staring at me, he huffed and shook his head. Fine, don't tell me. But the rest of your story checks out.

I wasn't able to sag in relief with Merlin's spell holding me, but a knot loosened in my stomach.

'So… Does that mean I'm not in trouble?'

Oh, of course you're in trouble, do you have any idea what you did?

And just like that the fear returned. I wasn't going to like this, was I?

'What happened?'

A ball of light sprung to life in Merlin's hands, and started flashing images.

Sick werewolves in Letocetum, dead giants in the hills to the west, and of course, the king and I had our own problems. While I doubt anyone will mourn the giants, whatever sent you here tore the mana from the air and managed to injure every phantasmal being within fifty miles.

As much as it stung that I'd somehow managed to kill even more beings than I'd thought, one image in particular was stuck in my mind.

Artoria's eyes bulged out of her head, and she clutched her chest and fell to the ground.

I nearly killed her. We hadn't even met yet, and I nearly killed her! No wonder she looked at me like that, I gave her a heart attack, and now she hated me, and—

Merlin's hands clamped down on my shoulders. Calm yourself!

His mental shout cut through my panic, and my mind recoiled from the sudden headache.

Good. Now, this may sound bad, but the situation is still salvageable. He patted my shaking shoulders and leaned back in his chair. Meanwhile I was staring at him with amazement.

'How? She nearly died because I came here, not to mention the werewolves and giants!'

Again, he. And you will find that my king is a forgiving sort. Provided you make it worth his time.

Merlin folded his hands and gave me a hard look. My king has taken it upon himself to save the people of Britain. It is a grand dream, but one difficult to achieve, and he will need all the help he can get.

Then his look turned conspiratorial. And that's where you come in. Magi willing to step in and save innocents are rather thin on the ground, and your charge last night caught his eye. If you swore to help him save Britain, he would take you in and forgive your mistake, as long as you served him well.

A glimmer of hope rose in my chest, before reality squashed it. 'I'd love to help, but I'm no magus. That attack took my whole prana reserves to pull off, and I barely know any magecraft, all I'd do is drag… him down.'

On the contrary Shirou, that's where I come in!

The magus glowed and raised his arms in the air. I am the wizard Merlin, strongest magus in the isles, seer extraordinaire, and trainer of knights and magi alike! With an incredible teacher like me, even you could be great someday! Provided you sign up of course. The lightshow abruptly ended, leaving Merlin eyeing me like a used car salesman urging me to sign on the dotted line.

It was obvious he was manipulating me, even without the sales pitch. But that didn't make his words any less true. Merlin taught Artoria how to be a king, and supposedly taught Vivian and Morgan le Fay everything they knew, he was an amazing teacher. If I joined up, he'd teach me everything I needed to save people, but there was one last thing that finally clinched it.

You can save her.

While the girl out there wasn't Saber, Saber had been that girl. She didn't know me, but that was because she was just starting on her journey to save her people. At their heart they were the same person, just one more scarred and jaded than the other.

When Artoria drew Caliburn, Merlin showed her the fate that awaited her, a miserable death where she was feared and hated by everyone, but she drew the sword anyways. It was part of the reason I loved her, even when faced with death, she threw away everything to protect people.

But that didn't make her life fair, or right. She was so set on being the perfect king, on cutting away her emotions and ruling with pure logic, that she drove everyone away from her.

Not that the people around her were any better. They were so dazzled by her glory that they never tried to correct her, to say that this was the wrong way to live. Instead, they abandoned her one by one, until the day of betrayal came to destroy her kingdom and end her life.

But what if there had been a voice willing to question her? Could they have pushed her off that path? Let her have some happiness of her own while saving Britain? It might be hypocritical of me, but I was willing to find out. Maybe her fate was inevitable, and I'd just join her on that hill of corpses, but I'd be damned if I didn't try my hardest to give her a life she could smile about!

'I'll do it.'

Merlin clapped his hands and grinned. Great! Now first let me undo this spell— He snapped his fingers, and the force pinning me down vanished —and second, let's get you talking properly.

His hands grasped my head, and pressure mounted between my ears before exploding.

It was agony.

Garbled words and phrases poured into my mind like molten lead, filling my head full to bursting. In the racket I picked out words of Brythoneg— Brittonic, but also Latin? And something called Englisc?

Glancing at Merlin only made my head pound, but I caught a smirk before my eyes screwed shut.

"I hope you don't mind the extra presents I gave you, you'll need them where we're going. Anyways! I'm off to retrieve our king and tell him the good news, try to get some rest and let the knowledge sink in."

Merlin hopped to his feet and skipped to the door, leaving me to deal with my migraine.

Artoria

'What could be taking so long?'

One brushstroke came harder than the rest, making Llamrei whinny and recoil from my touch.

"Oh, sorry girl!"

The mare snorted and eyed me warily, before closing her eyes as softer brushstrokes soothed her. Meanwhile, I took a deep breath to calm my temper. Better not take out my irritation on my poor mount.

Damn that magus. Even out here he was making my blood simmer. And to think I was about to recruit him! At first, it seemed like a once in a lifetime opportunity had fallen into my lap, but then the suspicious details started piling up. What would a foreign magus be doing in a sleepy Brittonic town? Not to mention the timing of his emergence from the forest. Even now my heart ached, though thankfully the pain was duller than yesterday.

These first revelations had made me wary, but then Llywelyn began describing his guest, and left me questioning my first impressions. What magus would stoop to performing household chores for a common villager? His obsession with cleanliness implied a higher standard of living than his host possessed, but why do the work himself?

I was beginning to wonder if my misgivings were unfounded when Merlin reported his findings, and all those good thoughts went out the window.

Blasted magi, scrabbling over trinkets they did not understand! At least that was the gist of what Merlin told me. A pack of magi had been battling over some cursed artifact when it got destroyed and launched this one into the forest, and the curse must have come along for the ride. Now we had a pile of dead and injured phantasmal beasts and who knows what other damage!

I felt like a fool for thinking this one was different from the others. There was no way I would remain in the room with the hubristic idiot, so I left Merlin to his interrogation and left to groom Llamrei. The poor mare needed a rub-down after the raid last night, and there had been no time to do it earlier.

The door opened, and my advisor stepped out, looking uncharacteristically solemn. I dreaded what news could make him look at me like that. Please let this be someone else's problem, the last thing Britain needed was a looming magical calamity on top of the invaders at our doorstep.

"What did he tell you Merlin?"

He sucked his teeth. "My king… I believe you may have been a little quick to judge the magus."

"…Excuse me?"

"Yes, yes, I know what I told you," he said, wringing his hands. "But under pressure the boy finally folded and the full story tumbled out, and it paints him in a far more sympathetic light."

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. "This had better be good." The mood whiplash was getting to me.

"Oh, trust me, it's one hell of a tale." He cleared his throat before launching into his story.

"So to summarize, a group of magi were conducting a ritual in his hometown where each would summon a bound ghost liner and fight to the death. The prize for winning this death battle was an artifact of great power, allegedly the Holy Grail. The boy got roped into this against his will, and spent most of the ritual defending himself and civilians from the other magi, until only he and his partner remained."

Merlin grimaced. "And then comes the sordid part of this tale. When they reached the end of the ritual, the supposed grail was revealed to be a cursed fraud, and the overseer of this farce attempted to use it to destroy the town to indulge his sadism. The boy and his ghost liner killed him and destroyed the artifact before it could be unleashed, and the backlash must have sent him here."

I blinked in shock. That… I could see the outline of his first story, but it came across entirely different. What started as a tale of a magus fighting to claim an artifact, became a boy in over his head doing his best to protect his home from a bunch of murderers. So why the deception?

"Why did he not reveal this at the start? Magi kill each other all the time, what good would hiding it do him?"

And while I was at it… "Speaking of which, what is a ghost liner? It sounds like some sort of familiar spirit, but not one I have heard of."

The magus beamed and waggled his eyebrows. "The one has to do with the other actually. Get ready for a lesson my king!"

'Oh, for gods' sakes!'

My advisor shone with blue light, and a golden ball appeared in the air before him. I should have expected this, the man loved his showmanship.

"In the void between worlds, beyond time and space, there exists a mystical realm, the Throne of Heroes!"

Images of warriors with arms bared, powerful magi, and great kings inspiring their people flashed before my eyes. "This realm is inhabited by the spirits of those that molded the course of history, every great hero and villain of the past, present, and future. And like any other spirit, they can be called."

A scene of a magus before a summoning circle appeared on the ball. As I watched, he chanted, and the circle was filled with a giant armored redhead with a fur-trimmed cape.

"While the original spirit cannot be summoned, avatars of these spirits called ghost liners can be summoned instead, whether to plumb their wisdom, learn their secrets, or like that lot in Fuyuki, force them to fight a free-for-all battle over a cup of curses," he finished, rolling his eyes.

"So these magi were forcing legends to fight each other over a worthless prize?"

Merlin nodded. "Essentially, which answers your first question. What would you say if the boy told you he had fought in a deathmatch between legendary heroes over the Holy Grail?"

"I would call him a liar."

"Exactly! Which is why he tried to obfuscate, though based on your reaction he botched the job horrifically."

'That is putting it mildly.'

How the magus managed to turn a story of bravely fighting to defend his hometown into a sordid tale of squabbling over a trinket was bewildering. It was no wonder I gave Merlin free reign to do whatever he wanted to him.

My eyes widened. 'Oh gods, what must he think of me?'

This boy had risked his life to save Caer Afon, and days before fought to save his own hometown, and I treated him like dirt, forget whatever Merlin did to him. Some first impression I must have made!

I buried my face in my hands. "Please tell me you did not harm him too badly."

"Nope, not at all! Nothing beyond a restraining spell and some death threats!" came his chipper reply.

"Only some death threats you say?" If only looks could kill! But it was for the best that my fantasy was denied. Then I would be down two magi in one morning.

My shoulders slumped in defeat. "I suppose the magus wants nothing to do with us now?"

"On the contrary! With a little persuasion, I was able to convince him to sign up! Even gave him knowledge of Brittonic as part of the deal."

I gave him a warning look. "Merlin, do not tell me that you coerced him."

"Not a bit, he was quite broken up about what happened to you, wanted to help you to make up for it. Not sure what to think about that honestly, learning magecraft from me was almost an afterthought."

'Probably because you threatened to kill him' I did not say. But the boy's remorse made me regret my angry thoughts even more strongly. This was not a common magus at all, and I had almost tossed him away on incomplete information.

But standing here feeling sorry for myself would accomplish nothing. I had a magus to recruit before he changed his mind.

"Very well. I shall go take his oath of service now. Try not to make a nuisance of yourself while I am gone, Merlin." I ignored Merlin's sputtered denials and entered the house.

Stepping over the threshold, my first sight upon entering the kitchen was the magus, Shirou, clutching his head with his elbows on the tabletop. Had Merlin lied about harming the boy?

"Are you well? Merlin did not harm you too badly, did he?" I said, allowing a note of concern to enter my voice.

For a moment he eyed me with a relieved expression, then shook his head. "No, I'm fine, just have a headache from learning Brittonic."

Ah, that was understandable. Having knowledge of a whole language stuffed into your head would be rather painful.

I nodded. "Very well. Merlin told me that you were interested in joining my cause?"

His eyes grew serious. "Yes, I'll do it. A lot of people were hurt when I came here, so it's only right to make it up to them."

'Depends, do giants count as people?' While the disabled werewolves were worthy of concern, it was doubtful that anyone would shed a tear for the hateful maneaters. Regardless, I had to be sure that more than guilt motivated the magus.

"That may be true, but you must join for more than penance. The people of Britain are suffering, and need our help."

My eyes bored into his. "Caer Afon is far from the only settlement to come under attack. At this very moment, scenes like last night are playing out all over the island. Invaders besiege us on all sides, while the kings of this island do nothing to protect the people. I have taken it upon myself to end this anarchy and bring salvation to the land. Will you swear to me, Shirou, that you will aid me in my quest?"

Shirou's gaze was just as fierce as mine. "I swear it, I'll help you save them all."

'There! That was the drive I was looking for.'

"Excellent, a pleasure to have you on board. Rest well, because we have much work to do."

And just like that, Caer Afon yielded its first recruit. Now to ensure the brave fool got the training he needed to serve me well, and not get himself killed. And maybe get some of that cooking Llywelyn mentioned. I was sick of boiled potatoes and gruel, a hot meal would be the perfect way to celebrate my successes today.

And there we go! First meeting of our two protagonists, and coming up, training and consolidation! I'm thinking a short training arc of maybe 2-3 chapters before we get into the Twelve Battles proper, then the action should take off a bit more.

Now a bit of news. Since last chapter got a better reaction than my earlier minimalist-style chapters, I'm going to try to rewrite those earlier chapters when I have the chance, or at least chapters 2 and 3, since the prologue is basically just paraphrasing Day 15 with some minor changes. Since these more descriptive chapters are more labor-intensive than those earlier ones, I'll be moving to a bi-weekly rather than a weekly update rate, though if I write more quickly than expected of course I'll post early. See you later!