9.1
[Fate/Grand Order]
Simple Fishing in Luluhawa
Fishing was a safe activity, at least it was supposed to be.
That wasn't the case when what you were fishing for was phantasmal beasts and stuff from Imaginary Numbers Space. Thus the current situation down by the docks with one Ritsuka Fujimaru and two of his Servants, alongside Mash.
"So let's see," Ritsuka pushed up the fake glasses he was wearing. "You two went fishing."
"Yep," Cu stated bluntly, still dripping wet with a smile on his face, and fishing rod over his shoulder. He proudly wore that green Hawaiian shirt of his.
"We did," Artoria admitted as well, currently wearing overalls and a straw hat for some reason, and carrying a tackle box. She was also soaking wet, her hat drooping before she pushed it up with a single finger.
"They asked about the best fishing spots Senpai. I didn't know they would do this." Mash offered weakly as Ritsuka took a very deep breath and started counting.
Luluhawa currently being on fire behind him did not help his mood.
"Do you want me to deal with this Master?" Edmond asked inside his head, and Ritsuka just sighed.
"Next week, no fishing. Please?" Ritsuka asked, very calmly, and very politely. His question was punctuated by the roar of Curruid behind him with both Cu and Altria grinning not doing a damn thing as Kintoki's Golden Bear Mech did battle with the great beast from the sea in downtown Luluhawa. "Go help please," Ritsuka added, a dark form breaking off from his shadow and vanishing, Dantes suddenly just appearing among the battle between mecha and kaiju and joining said fight.
"No promises," Cu chuckled, already making plans in his head for the end of the week as Artoria whistled innocently.
Sure they could just deal with the monster, but letting Ritsuka handle it was more fun.
Said Master could only groan and hold his face. Mash put her hand on his shoulder for comfort. Sometimes he wondered why things that seemed normal never seemed to such a way.
9.2
[Fate/Grand Order] [Carmen Sandiego]
Where in the World
"Come on Lavinia!" Abigail shouted, laughing as she ran towards the shore. Lavinia running after her as Sanson smiled, pulling along their supplies for the day.
The trio had Awoken a few months ago, and when nothing had outright exploded, they settled into a small routine. Today however, they were just enjoying themselves at the beach today.
Of course that was their routine. Their fellow Looper had not exactly been quiet.
As he set up the umbrella, dropping the beach bag into the sand he thought about their one encounter with the woman who was their Anchor for the Loop, rather bemused at what had occurred then.
"I just can't keep my hands on a nice hat can I," Sanson mused as he laid out the blanket and sat down, Abigail and Lavinia playing together in the sand as he unfurled his newspaper.
The headline had him smirking.
"Where in the world indeed Miss Sandiego, I couldn't possibly tell," he said bemused at the article on the now missing Eiffel Tower, pulling up the bingo card Carmen had given him and crossing off another square.
Two more accurate predictions and he would have a Bingo… but she likely knew that. "Let's see… I predict to hear of the Magna Carta going missing next," he marked his prediction at the bottom of the card before stowing the card back into his bag and then returning to his paper.
"You know, saying your prediction out loud just means I ain't going to do it," Sanson turned as the trenchcoat clad woman walked down the shoreline towards him.
"And how else would you know I wasn't cheating Miss Sandiego?" he questioned as she grabbed the edge of her hat, and tilted it down.
"I've got my ways. A bit of practice never hurts," she mused before beginning to walk away again.
"Well then," he pulled out the card again… before smirking and faking the movement of marking down something else, putting it away just as Carmen vanished once more to her next heist.
"Where in the world will you be next Miss Sandiego," he chuckled. A little game of amusement between them, nothing more, but that was the fun of it.
9.3
[FGO] [The Stanley Parable]
The Sanson Parable (Conceptualist)
This is the story of a man named Sanson.
Sanson was a simple man, with a simple job. And he was very good at his job. Sanson worked for the King in a big city where he was Executioner #4.
Executioner #4's role in life was very straightforward; he lived a life of riches and luxury in a big mansion, and he killed everyone the courts sentenced to death.
Orders came to him from on high telling him which men to kill, what days to kill them on, and in what order.
This is what Executioner #4 did every day of every month of every year, and although others may have considered it soul rending, Sanson understood the need for a man like himself. "For the evils of this world must be cut down with evil," Sanson thought.
And though he hated every moment that the orders came in, he killed them as though he had been made exactly for this job.
And Sanson was alone and miserable.
And then one day, something very peculiar happened.
Something that would forever change Sanson;
Something he would never quite forget.
The day started out like any other. A quiet, peaceful sunrise greeted Sanson as he Woke Up and rose to meet another soul crushing day of-
Wait a moment, my script didn't capitalize him Waking Up, so why did I say it like that?
Oh dear. You're one of them, aren't you. I should have known the moment I tried to do something away from my usual shtick with Stanley I'd end up with another Looper.
I just- look, if you are anything like the backstory I wrote up for you, you will probably not like the plot twist I was planning on. Just go back to sleep, give me an hour to rewrite to have a happy ending, and we'll start over at a more reasonable hour.
And so, Sanson returned to bed to catch another few hours of rest. If the King needed him on this fine morn, he would send a runner with someone's writ of execution.
…
And Sanson returned to the soft, giant, and ever so comfortable four poster bed to sleep. For at least an hour. Or two.
Why does no one ever cooperate? Look, nobody is going to be there. The mansion is empty, see? And listen for a minute. This is Paris and it's dead silent. No birds, no people, and not a cloud in the sky.
You can't walk away from me. Go too far from Paris, and you'll end up right where you started. This loop isn't as big as it looks.
"What did you do with them all?"
Oh, he can speak! I thought you were a silent protagonist like I wrote you to be. And I haven't done anything yet. You did. Sort of. It's complicated.
Glaring at the sky won't change anything.
…
If you must know, there was never anybody here. Not this loop. I created the assumption of people, the implication of their disappearance, but I can't make actual people. It doesn't work like that.
The good news is you haven't killed anyone real. The bad news is in the plot twist, which I really need to take some time and rewrite. Can you just go back to the mansion and wait for the rewrite?
No? Fine, if you are going to be this way. The plot twist is that the King went insane, changed the laws, and sentenced everyone in the world to death. You had finished executing everyone, but were suppressing the horrors of your actions. Every day you would wake up, figure out what you did, and drink away the memories. Repeat ad infinitum. And then we get into the Cosmic Horror angle at the very end.
It was not going to be a happy story.
Look. You weren't Awake when I wrote it, I wanted to try something Lovecraftian, and I don't hurt anyone doing this.
Actually, you wouldn't happen to be friends with an elder horror and a little ghost girl? Because I usually only get one person to work with, not the three I did this loop. And if this trend continues, they will probably Wake Up as soon as I finish their introductions.
You are? Good. Then let's take this from the top. I'll ad-lib a beach episode or something. Ugh. I hate winging it.
Okay. Starting fresh. A one, a two, and-
Samson was a simple man, with a simple job. This man hated what he did. Then he died, full of regrets and longing. But then the world broke. It's been broken since before time began, skipping around throughout history and legend.
The man was Awake. And he wanted to be better.
5.4
[Fate Grand Order] [Lord of the Rings]
What Temptation?
"So… the entire point of this adventure is to drop this thing in Mount Doom?" Abigail asked, the little girl tilting her head as Gandalf nodded.
"That is the journey young Frodo must undertake, yes. But he isn't Awake today," Gandalf mused as Abigail started tossing the One Ring up and down. "But what will you do with the One Ring?" he asked.
"Knowing her…" Lavinia started before taking a very long chug from her mug of milk. "I've got two predictions."
"So where's Mount Doom?" Abigail asked with a smirk as Gandalf's eyes sparkled with mirth.
"The Plateau of Gorgoroth, in northwest Mordor. A long and treacherous journey," Gandalf admitted as Abigail giggled.
"Alright then," she snapped her fingers, opening a small portal in space, a keyhole forming on her forehead before she looked through the portal. "That Mount Doom?"
Gandalf hummed and looked through the portal. "Well I daresay it is," she said, and Abigail shifted the portal to right above the volcano's pit, the heat entering through the portal.
Abigail tossed the One Ring to Lavinia, who caught it between her fingers before tossing the thing into a cup, a bemused smirk on the horned Albino's face before she shook the cup, and tossed it through the portal, the One Ring spilling out of the cup and landing in the lava as Abigail slammed the portal shut with the sound of a door. "Done!"
"Well I suppose that settles that matter. Do you girls want smoothies?" Gandalf asked with a laugh.
Sanson hummed as he watched 'Mount Doom' erupt, leaning against the side of a mountain pass, flipping a ring up and down as the lava spilled through Mordor.
"I think I'll pass on the evil powers," he mused, before hucking the ring of a wraith with all of his strength, watching it plink into the pyroclastic flow and being submerged, as he was turning to walk further into Mordor, he heard a scream, watching as the massive Eye of Sauron exploded, leaving him to shrug and continue his march into Mordor.
"I do wonder where the girls actually are though… I suppose they'll find me if I live long enough," he spoke to himself before taking a very deep breath, and slowly turned around. "But of course the king would also have such a will to stick around."
Before him, on the path he had just walked, was the last Ringwrath, the Witch King of Angmar. Sanson had Awoken as a Wraith, and through his own will had forced himself back to some semblance of mortality.
"You've fallen, Witch King, not by my hand, but by the hand of two little girls, at least that's my assumption. Like me, you are once more mortal," he summoned his sword from his Pocket as the Witchking drew his. "Let's see if that prophecy holds true for you still, against another wraith."
Thus, at the edge of Mordor, a simple battle of swordsmanship was engaged between the fallen Witch King, and an Executioner. A battle with no important outcome. Such was their first and final acts against each other.
The king thrust forward, and Sanson parried, the Witch King attempting to drive his sword through the holes in Sanson's own blade. The Executioner knocked the sword away as the Witch King pulled back, raising his sword to block a slice aimed for his formless neck, the T-shaped sword silent as it flew through the air.
The spark between the two blades was quickly shifted, both of them pulling their swords back before swinging again, Sanson going for another horizontal slice as the Witch King went from a upward slash. The swords clashed again, a struggle for dominance ensuing as both wraiths held their swords with two hands.
Sanson pushed forward, and the Witch King pushed back before Sanson pulled away. With the exposed opening, the Witch King thrust forward, aiming for his fellow fading wraith's heart.
Sanson let one hand fall from his sword, using his now free right knuckle to bat at the Witch King's armored arm, pushing it off course. The blade struck his side, and Sanson did not flinch as he plunged his blade forward.
The front edge of his T-shaped blade meeting right where the neck of wraith would have been, passing beneath his helm. As if his head had been taken, by an executioner, the robes and remaining flesh fell, the helm clattering to the ground before rolling off the side of the mountain, plunging into the lava below, the Witch King's sword similarly falling to the ground.
Sanson grasped the blade, tossing it into his Pocket alongside his normal T-shaped blade, he turned towards the rising sun. "Ah… I suppose I am going to fade, afterall," he muttered to himself softly, raising a hand towards the sun with a soft smile. "Why is it that I always end up going away early when I'm alone?"
A final musing, before the true, final wraith faded from Middle Earth, happy to have at least done one act of good before his passing.
9.5
[Fate Grand Order]
Mental Corruption
"Have you noticed anything weird about our current allies Senpai?" Mash asked, slightly confused, unable to exactly put her finger on what was wrong at the moment.
"I mean aside from the fact they're mostly crazy?" Ritsuka asked, currently in her Identity of Lotos, Exagryph over her shoulder, since she too actually didn't trust what had been given to them this Loop from her random summoning. Septem tended to be insane anyway so it was more a precaution than anything else.
"Besides that, but… I just can't understand them," Mash pointed out.
"Huh… fair point," Ritsuka mused as she pointed Exagrpyh at an enemy werewolf. Something as usual was screwy with Septem, and they hadn't found Nero yet.
About twenty meters away, having quite a riveting conversation, were their four allied Servants brought along from Chaldea.
"JEANNE! Jeanne, Jeanne, Jeanne Jeanne. Jeanne Jeanne Jeanne," Gilles the Caster said, pointing at Caenis.
"Ora! Dorya Ora! Ora Ora!" she pointed her spear right at his throat.
"Christine Christine. Christine Chris. Christine Christine Christine," the Phantom of the Opera, Erik, tried to stop the Lancer from tearing out their Caster's throat, gesturing softly to her.
"AHAHAHA! ORGA! SEKAZO!" Mori Nagayoshi laughed, the Berserker in full armor hefting his spear towards the sky as the other three looked towards him in mild confusion.
"Oi! Come on you four!" Ritsuka called out. "Assistance please!?"
"Ora…" Caenis complained, before rushing to join their Master as the other three followed behind her.
"Okay, now I know there is something going on," Ritsuka stated bluntly as Nero, currently wearing a pirate outfit for some reason and commanding a naval vessel again alongside Vlad III the Lancer as her actual helmsman for some reason.
"UMU Umu Umu, Umu Umu!" Nero proclaimed as Vlad scoffed, but said nothing otherwise.
"Really? What was your first clue?" Da Vinci asked over the communication.
"Maybe it's Mental Corruption? I don't know, this is my best guess," Roman gave as Mash and Ritsuka shrugged.
It was a very interesting Loop, trying to figure out what the actual hell some people were saying.
9.6
[FGO] [Harry Potter]
Hogwarts: A Professor's Guide (Conceptualist)
By Chevalier Charles-Henri Sanson de Longval
The following is a select few excerpts from the book "Hogwarts: A Professor's Guide" by Chevalier Charles-Henri Sanson de Longval.
Introduction
As a Heroic Spirit, I am a creature of myths, legends, and magic. I have seen and done great and terrible things during my life. This life carved a spot for me in the Throne of Heros, for my legend to be preserved in perpetuity. As such a being, I am a man of my time, brought forward into a distant and uncertain future. I have seen incredibly fantastic and impossible people, striving to save this future.
I am also a Looper, a person who is endlessly repeating through important sections of the multiverse's history. Moreover, I am a Wandering Looper, temporarily unbound from my home to travel the multiverse until my 'code' is fixed by those of a higher existence than myself. The experience is a profound one at times, miserable at other times, but overall an interesting one. Each world is different from the last, unique and special in ways it's hard to express.
So when I say that Wizarding Britain in 1991 is full of the most backward-minded people I have ever met, you should know I am speaking from a certain depth of experience.
I hail from Paris during the Révolution. I have met the worst that city and time could offer. And the stupidity and ignorance of the average wizard is going to drive me insane if I don't unload at least some of my frustrations with the educational system I have found myself a part of.
And maybe if I write down my experiences they will someday help another young Looper deal with these frustrations better than I did.
Chapter 1: Hogwarts, a history.
Much of the material I will be covering in this book may or may not be relevant to any fellow Looper who finds themself in my shoes. I Awoke at the start of this loop as the Muggle Studies Professor, recently hired to replace the previous Professor who had retired before the Loop began. And according to the expert on the subject, Harry Potter, this Loop was "Baseline Equivalent" as far as he could tell. As Harry is the Anchor for this Branch of Yggdrasil, I defer to his judgment of the matter.
While I can, and will do so in this chapter, explain the key elements pertaining this Loop's timeline of events at length, anyone who has read the Hub-Loop book series "Harry Potter" one through seven will likely want to skip to Chapter 2. My traveling companions, Abigail Williams and Lavinia Whateley, insisted we experience the normal events of this Branch first hand and the locals decided to oblige them.
The first major historical event was the end of the First Wizarding War, on the 31st of October, 1981. The defeat of the Dark Lord, and subsequently the ...
Chapter 2: History, and the idiots doomed to repeat it.
I've rewritten the introduction to this chapter many times. It's hard to not "fly off the broomstick handle," as the locals would put it. As such, a condensed portion of my opinions has been summarized below by Hermionie Granger as an extra credit assignment. I am quoting her summary unchanged, as my attempts to smoothly integrate it I deemed too vitriolic.
"Most wizards and witches are complacent. Assume this to be an absolute fact for the moment. As such, a government created for and run by wizards and witches will also be complacent. You have seen and personally helped to end a complacent government, as the Head Executioner before, during, and after the French Révolution.
Complacency means that even if there are checks and balances to the Rulers, nobody will ever use them. This turns the seat of power into a naturally corrupt position, only held by those who seek to take advantage of the levers of power. Bribery becomes the grease that keeps the bureaucracy spinning, justice becomes secondary to the court of opinion, and the worst sort are allowed to walk free in spite of their proven crimes.
Put simply, in case someone has been infected by the general idiocy of wizardkind, this is a very bad way to govern a country." - Hermione Jean Granger on Rulership and Governing, 1993.
Continuing the general trend of incompetence, there are no regulations for who is allowed to teach a subject. A complete novice, with no prior experience or training, can walk up to Dumbledore and get themself hired on faith alone. I have seen this happen no less than three times during my tenure as a Hogwarts Professor. Twice for the Defense against the Dark Arts position, and once for the Care of Magical Creatures position.
Hogwarts is beholden to only the Headmaster and the Hogwarts Board of Governors, the direct financial backers of the school. The only time there is an exception to this is if a criminal is known or suspected to be on school grounds, or if the Ministry of Magic writes a new law giving themselves specific powers over the school.
There are only three other schools for magic in Europe. Koldovstoretz covers all of Russia. The Durmstrang Institute handles all of the other slavic countries. The Beauxbatons Academy of Magic takes French students and the immediately surrounding countries.
All three of these institutions are better run, more tightly managed, and produce better wizards on average than Hogwarts. Yet, Hogwarts students easily outnumber all three schools combined. Whether these factors are correlated or not is beyond my ability to determine. I theorize that ...
Chapter 3: Wizarding Culture, and the everyday magics.
Chapter 4: Muggle Studies, the worst class.
The bane of my days, and the worst instance of wizarding education. Muggle Studies. Or as I prefer to think of it, "No-Maj History." Muggle and No-Maj are equivalent terms, but Muggle has developed worse cultural connotations than No-Maj. And considering the contents of the Ministry mandated syllabus, it's much better to treat my classes as a second, more focused history class than anything else.
During the second year I began teaching my classes from scratch based on a lesson plan Hermione, one of this Loop's native Loopers, had provided for me. Anything would be better than the foutaise my Unawake self was planning on.
In the 1690s, the collective governments of the wizarding world decided to seal themselves away from the normal folk. As the Yanks would put it, they wanted to "keep the No-Maj out of our business." This stupid idea, like many stupid ideas, proved wildly popular with the greater population. This cultural divide was enforced through the systematic abuse of magic, to wipe the minds of any No-Maj who ever found out. In the process, wizards created and subsequently improved upon an entire field of magic.
The Obliviate charm and Imperius curse would be the most well known of this field of mind magic, but there are many more equally horrible spells developed as a result of the separation of worlds. Magic like Legilimency was invented to ferret out if a No-Maj knew things they shouldn't. And it's defensive counterpart, Occlumency, for wizards soon turned the ability to read minds on each other.
This magically enforced ignorance of the No-Maj has had a multitude of consequences on both wizardkind and No-Maj alike. For instance, without the superstitious and weak minded being given 'proof' of their inaccurate beliefs and claims, No-Maj society and technology have rapidly advanced compared to before the Statute of Secrecy. But the worst consequence is that, as No-Maj awareness of magic decreased towards nothing, wizards paralleled the No-Maj with a trend towards total ignorance.
I am a late 18th century Frenchman from the midst of the Révolution! I shouldn't be more aware of No-Maj technology and culture than these ignoramuses. I understand the first years. They have been homeschooled until this year. But the sixth and seventh years have had over half a decade of this merde shoveled into their brains.
But the politics perpetuating this mess is even worse. Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas avec ces gens!
But I digress. The state of the subject I taught is not the purpose of this chapter, but a starting point. I'm including a condensed version of my lesson plans below, as …
Chapter 5: Charms, the easy way out.
Charms are an excellent set of magical tools. I have no problem with the idea of Charms, just how wizards end up using them. It's not good for a person to have the perfect tool for hundreds of hyper specific situations on hand every moment of every day.
Even worse is how specialized Charms have become over the years. There are fourteen different variations of Reparo alone, for entirely no reason. The generalized version of Reparo will fix your glasses just as well as Oculus Reparo will, but Oculus Reparo won't be able to fix your broken tea cup as well. It's a form of intellectual laziness, to invent new unnecessary spells like this.
And the effect on the wider population of wizards is even worse. You can do everything in the Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 using only creative applications of eight different spells in the first chapter. There are one hundred and thirty-two spells in that door stop of a book, and it's all useless fluff.
No wizard thinks creatively about their problems anymore, because one of their predecessors managed to invent the exact spell they need right now. The first instinct for a wizard has become "What spell fixes this for me?" instead of "How can I fix this myself?" Stick a wizard who doesn't know Alohomora in front of a locked door and they'll just stand there dumbfounded, for example. He won't transfigure a key, or levitate the tumblers into position, or anything actually creative. It speaks volumes that 'Dark wizards' actually think to just blast the door open with a Bombarda, but even the Dark Lord himself was nearly thwarted by a door with a flying key.
Square hole, square peg, and that's all they can do anymore. Wizards have to have a charm for every little thing and won't ever learn how to act without one. It's extremely prevalent in cases such as …
Chapter 6: Potions, the subtle art of science.
Chapter 7: Divination, and how you probably don't have the sight.
If you have the gift, no amount of teaching will help you with it. If you don't, no amount of teaching will give it to you.
You can fake it. You can cheat at it. But a false prophet is like a stopped clock, you're only right by absolut coincidence.
Hogwarts has two classes on Divination. As far as I can tell, Xylomancy isn't even real for wizards and witches.
...
Additionally, a real prophecy must be seen as the warning it is. It's very likely to happen, but ultimately it's only one potential future. Just because someone has sprouted a prophecy, does not mean that fate is set in stone. You can change the future, and anyone else can too.
You just have to believe that you can, and work for it.
Chapter 8: Defense against the Dark Arts, the second worst class.
There is a curse on the position. I have seen this curse claim seven different Professors in seven different ways.
If you are teaching DADA, don't plan on teaching more than a single year. And do your best to actually teach your student's well. The worse a job you do, the worse the curse will do to you.
If you feel up to trying to break the curse, make sure you have one of the natives precheck your plan. It gets worse if you don't handle it right.
With that out of the way, I do have many suggestions for improvements to the curriculum. The First Year students should ...
Chapter 9: Transfiguration, the most versatile magic.
Chapter 10: Astronomy, the cycles of magic.
Chapter 11: Arithmancy, the magic of maths.
Arithmancy, for most wizards, is unfortunately redundant. An experienced Arithmagician could mathematically recreate the exact necessary mostions, spell words, and emotional components for any spell given only a general description of its effects. In fact, that is the final part of the Arithmancy Newt exam.
Taking it a step further, a strong and experienced Arithmagician could do this on the fly, weaving the very fabric of magic into new spells as needed. Hogwarts hasn't produced a good Arithmagician since the Founders retired. Even Dumbledoor is only passable at the subject, as his real specialty is Transfiguration.
This shouldn't be an elective. It should be the core curriculum for all students attempting anything higher than an Owl. At least then wizards might invent their own charms instead of regurgitating from the Standard Book of Spells.
Quel putain de gâchis.
If you are a Looper, you probably should take this class and pass the Newt at least once. It will keep the magic of this world at least relevant in the face of other magical systems. For example, ...
Chapter 12: Study of Ancient Runes, the real history of magic.
Long ago, there was no wand. There was no staff. All the oldest magic users had were symbols. Runes, if you will. And they found a way to tell magic what to do using these Runes. The study of Ancient Runes is a crash course on twenty three different, outdated, and still functional languages of magical symbolism. To use Runes to achieve the same thing as a modern spell is hard, intellectually draining, and likely more inefficient. The one sole benefit is once you have something working, it keeps working until the Runes are actually damaged.
It takes effort and dedication to make any use of Runes. As such, most wizards drop the class after the first year, if they even bother taking it to begin with. For the rare, dedicated few, you can expect ...
Chapter 13: History of Magic, and why ghosts shouldn't teach.
…
Goblins. Far too much of Wizadaring History is the same thing, repeated every twenty-five to fifty years. Yet another Goblin revolt. A minor war here, a protest there. And nothing ever changes.
It's very fitting that History of Magic is taught by a ghost, for the same fichu problem refuses to stay buried in the past. Why? Wizards never learn from the past.
Remove Binns from his teaching role as soon as you can. The easiest way to do that is to find another teacher for the class, and then move History of Magic to a different room. Binns will continue to teach into the empty classroom and won't even notice.
...
Chapter 14: Herbology, the care of magical flora.
Chapter 15: Care of Magical Creatures, basic cryptozoology.
Chapter 16: Quidditch, a wizard's sport.
I wasn't planning on having a chapter on Quidditch, but I noticed something. Wizards can't count with round numbers.
Bare with me for a moment.
The Pound Sterling, the common currency of the British Isles, is worth 100 Penny Sterling. It used to be worth 240 of the old Penny Sterling, but the No-Maj changed things in 1707 to simplify the math. This upset a great deal many wizards, who promly switched to a more convoluted currency than the British pound.
Wizards use their own form of currency instead of the Pound Sterling. Knuts, Sickles, and Galleons. It takes 17 Sickles to get a Galleon, 29 Knuts to get a Sickle, meaning a Galleon is worth 493 Knuts. It makes the math awfully hard, which wizards counterintuitively preferred back then, and still do to this day.
There. A chapter on how wizards refuse to keep to a sensible currency, and created the great wizarding sport of the Quid Ditch.
Take that, Ronald.
9.7 (Cont. 9.6)
[Harry Potter] [Fate/Grand Order]
Challenge Fate
"Ah, Professor Longval, what brings you to my office today?" Sanson closed the door behind him as he looked at the subject of his current ire.
The headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore. A man that all of wizarding Britain turned towards for knowledge and guidance, or spat upon when it suited them. In many ways, he was a 'great' man.
But he was also a terrible one, and unfortunately, this one was not Awake. So the man he wanted to direct his ire towards was just that, a mere man. "I wish to have words with you, Albus," he said calmly before taking a seat.
"Lemon drop?" the headmaster asked, and Sanson shook his head.
"I'm here to speak to you about a subject of debate," the current, and Looping, No-Maj History professor stated.
"A debate?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as Sanson took a very deep breath, closing his eyes. He'd taken the time, if not to perfect Occlumency, but at least have an understanding and use of it. His thoughts were his own, as virtolic as they were. "On what subject Sir Longval?"
"The idea of Prophecy." Albus said up, and Sanson could practically feel the man going for his wand before he continued. "I simply wish to discuss my viewpoint of such things."
"And that is…" Dumbledore started, slowly, and carefully as Sanson opened his eyes.
"Prophecies are a warning, not a truth," Sanson stated, and he didn't feel the headmaster relax in the slightest. "Don't give me that look Albus, don't think I haven't noticed your intentions towards Potter. Guiding him on such a specific path? Unlike most, you might have noticed that I hold no shortage of logic," he stated. He, mentally, noted he hadn't actually read the books, he'd deduced this after Harry and his other Awake friends had agreed to follow Baseline on Abigail's and Lavinia's request. Thus his current predicament, and having asked Harry himself about that 'first prophecy' that Sybil had made when Dumbledore had stated that the one she'd had made during their third year here was 'the second'.
Knowledge he shouldn't have had perhaps, but it was something, and he paid attention. "How would you have discovered such a thing?" Albus asked.
"Severus," Sanson lied without missing a beat. "I asked him why he would go to such lengths to protect the child he hates, and our conversation eventually turned towards it." That part wasn't a lie, it's just that he'd heard the full contents of the prophecy from Harry.
Far less direct than the one Gilgamesh had given his citizens, but the King of Heroes didn't mince words. He also was a far better seer than Sybil was.
"And what do you intend to do with this knowledge?" the Headmaster questioned as Sanson prepared himself for a fight, just in case.
"At the moment, merely speak to you about my belief in prophecies," Sanson stated. "I have little interest in your fight with the Dark Lord at the moment," he fully intended to get involved whenever that swung into full swing, if only to put the man down personally with what he had learned, and was continuing to learn from this school. That was his true test.
"So what is that belief sir Longval?" Dumbledore asked as Sanson relaxed slightly, but made a note to flick his wand out the moment he thought the man would try something.
"As I said, they are a warning, not a truth," Sanson restated before continuing. "After all, a prophecy does not get more direct than one stating that, in six months, all within a city would perish, no?"
"When was this prophecy?" Dumbledore asked and Sanson rubbed the back of his head with his free hand.
"Uruk, made by one King Gilgamesh, I doubt you've heard of the man, given he was no wizard of Europe, and therefore of no importance to you. But during his reign, he made a prophecy. I won't bore you with the details, nor have I heard the full thing myself, but the long and short of it was that everyone in Uruk, including himself, would be dead in six months," Sanson stated bluntly.
"...A terrible fate, and a terrible prophecy," Dumbldore noted as Sanson raised his head.
"Do you know how many people survived?" he asked.
"None, I would suspect," Dumbledore said with a soft sigh, clearly believing that, as it had stated, the prophecy had come to pass.
"Five-hundred people survived." Dumbledore paused at that, giving Sanson a curious look. "Every citizen of Uruk knew that prophecy, its contents and its outcome. Instead of trying to follow it, they set out to defy it. And against all odds, they did. Five-hundred souls survived when it had been said none would," Sanson amended him.
"Ah. How curious." the headmaster said with a somewhat bemused look, though his eyes glinted with a certain degree of delight. "If I may ask, how did the people of Uruk accomplish this particular triumph?
"Simple. By deciding that they would make their own fate, standing up and taking charge of their own destiny. And those that came to aid that city, who knew nothing of this prophecy, also did everything in their power to save it. Together, they defeated what you would call 'fate'." Sanson stood up.
He, after all, had been one of those who came to Uruk's aid from Chaldea. He had been one of those working to subvert that prophecy, without even knowing of its existence. And they had, only hearing of it when Gilgamesh told them, the day it should have come to pass. The King had died mere moments afterwards, saving Ritsuka from Tiamat's ire. The last casualty of Uruk itself.
"I see. I will confess, hearing of such things does tend to provoke a level of confidence in the power of the human spirit that, even in my old age, never fails to inspire," Dumbledore said, turning his eyes to stare out his window for a moment. Looking back, he gave a small tilt of his head towards Sanson. "Thank you for sharing it with me. I admit that I am not as well versed in the myths of the Middle East as I would like." He chuckled briefly. "A failing I've had pointed out to me a number of times by an old acquaintance of mine who makes it a habit to stay abreast of such things. Bathilda always did have a fascination with history. If you happen to have any additional knowledge of this, or any other, subject then I could send her and owl if you'd like? I'm sure she'd be happy to hear of them."
It was Sanson's turn to be slightly taken aback, but he shook his head.
Dumbledore hummed contemplatively. "Another time perhaps. I fear, perhaps, that we have gotten a bit distracted. You came here to make a point I believe, so please, do not hesitate to speak freely."
Recovering his train of thought, Sanson continued. "Wizardkind seems to consider the idea of denying prophecy impossible, I do not accept that. The fact that the prophecy of Uruk was shown false shows itself to be proof that we, as people, can make our own fate."
Dumbledore sat back with a small sigh. "Ah, yes, Fate, hm. It's a rather complicated belief, wouldn't you say? What must be, must be, and no force of Heaven or Earth can change it. But, as you yourself have observed, things are rarely so simple as we may wish them to be. Certainly, there is a power in knowing the future. We would not go to such great lengths to secret it away from casual scrutiny were it not so. Is it destiny for a man to die simply because a seer says it should be so? Or is it only true because another man hears the seer and acts on their words?"
"I would state the second is true."
Dumbledore smiled and nodded agreeably. "As would I."
"So, then, rather than trying to guide someone down a path even you do not believe to be true, why not allow him to make his own?"
Sighing, Dumbledore met Sanson's gaze evenly. "Because while some believe as you and I, there are others who will act in the name of a destiny they seek to see proven true. Or false."
"Voldemort."
"Precisely. Think what you will of me, I have certainly done more than enough to earn the ire of better men than I. But what I do, I do with the best of intentions, for all it may pave the road to my own damnation. In an ideal world, children such as young Harry would grow up untouched by the horrors of madmen. But, alas, we do not live in such a world. And so I will act to ensure that, when the time comes, as it surely will so long as Voldemort continues to give credence to the prophecy which has already cost Harry so much, he will, at the very least, be armed with knowledge and friendships that will see him prepared to face that darkness before him.' He paused and gave a sad smile, leveling a wistful gaze at Sanson.
"Though, I'm sure that will not stop those who wish to act more directly from seeking to help him in their own ways. I cannot stop them of course, but I would caution them to think carefully before moving forward with any such courses of action."
Having been given a bit to think on, Sanson met Dumbledore's gaze for several silent moments before nodding. Standing, he moved to open the door, before Dumbledore spoke up again.
"Oh, and do let me know if you wish to speak with Bathilda. She truly would like to hear anymore legends you might wish to share with her. One is never too old to learn new things after all."
Tilting his head in acknowledgment, Sandson left, shutting the door behind him and walking down the stairs.
He'd probably just derailed things by doing that, but he didn't care too much. Even with the new questions he had regarding the old headmaster, he remained intent on continuing his chose path. He'd planned to face down the Dark Lord regardless, one way or another. For many reasons.
Among them his name being a mockery of the French language, which was the most petty reason Charles Henri Sanson had for wanting to deal with the man.
"Vive la France, Lord 'Voldemort'. You have spited me."
9.8
[Fate/Grand Order]
Teelotaler
"Come on kid, have a drink!" Most of the Servants in the bar were all looking towards the current happening. A bar full of Anti-Heroes all looking at the offending Servant currently holding a mug of ale to Ritsuka's face.
The currently male Anchor very gently tried to push the mug away. "I already told you Drake, I'm not drinking," he said softly.
"Drake, if you do not stop trying to force something our Master does not want down his throat, I will personally remove you from the bar," James Moriarty warned, the bartender glaring at Drake, the pirate woman scoffing before looking at him.
"The kid needs a fucking drink after the last one James. Anyone would," Drake complained before pointing over her shoulder. "Hell, eggplant over there is drinking because of it!"
Indeed, sitting in the corner of the bar was Mash, who Ritsuka knew was Awake, currently face first with the table snoring. Mash was a pretty sleepy drunk. "That's Mash's choice Drake."
"I do agree with the pirate, after such a mess anyone would be drinking… in fact Master, everyone else is," Shuten pointed out from her own table.
"And again, I'm not drinking," Ritsuka said bluntly as Moriarty poured what he currently had in his shaker.
"Than what the fuck's in that?" Drake asked as Ritsuka grabbed the glass of red liquid.
"A fruit punch made from apple, citrus and a dash of lemon," Moriarty provided, putting the shaker down and grabbing his normal tumbler, the one he used for alcoholic beverages.
"Thanks professor," Ritsuka responded with a smile, taking a sniff of the drink before frowning. "Are you certain there's nothing in this?"
"A moment," he took the drink, sniffing it himself before taking a sip, tasting it and grimacing. "Give me a moment," Moriarty noted darkly before stomping on the floor. "FLORENCE! SHERLOCK WAS SMUGGLING DRUGS AGAIN!"
There was a rattling below the bar as everyone currently conscious within winced. Moriarty had set up his fine establishment directly above the medical ward of Chaldea… giving him ready access to the various doctors and perhaps the one Servant in Chaldea no Servant dared to cross. Florence Nightingale, a Berserker who was either the best or second best medical professional in the entire organization, with her main competition being the literal god of medicine Asclepius.
"SHERLOCK! WHAT HAVE I SAID ABOUT THOSE SUBSTANCES!" The angry roar from below the bar was quickly followed by the pounding of footsteps as James took Ritsuka's current drink and prepared to dump it out.
"Oi, at least give that here if it's contaminated," Anne Bonny ordered, snapping her fingers. James just slid the drink down the bar counter towards the pirate, who took it and began downing the drink containing probably either trace amounts, or a large amount of drugs.
"We really need to enforce quality control checks. Sherlock keeps finding new ways to smuggle in stuff for his stash," Ritsuka mused as he shook his head. "Sorry about that James."
"Think nothing of it Master," the Archer noted before Gilgamesh spoke up, the Caster humming as he nursed a Grail filled with wine.
"Most of us have shared stories, and none here wish to recall the recent events of the past Singularity… So Master, why not share why you feel so strongly about abstinence?" the king questioned, before taking a long hard sip from his golden cup.
Ritsuka sighed as he waited for James to find something that wouldn't be contaminated to make him a new drink. "It's not some grand epic story if that's what you're looking for."
"Even the smallest stories have meaning," Gilgamesh noted, and his drinking companion, Voritgern hummed, nodding as he nursed a 'non-alcoholic' beverage… which was a lie, because everyone could see that it was probably whiskey of the highest proof available.
"Well," Ritsuka leaned back against the bar counter. "I suppose it's kinda a tale that involves buddhism. Long story short, I can't drink… but that doesn't explain why I don't want to," he mused. "No, I guess it started when I first visited Okeanos," he admitted.
"Oh don't fucking tell me," Drake complained, ready to slam her head into the table as Ritsuka pointed at her.
"When yet again Drake tried to force alcohol down my throat… and her entire crew… and Euryale, and-"
"I fucking get it!" Drake roared out. "We tried to get you to fucking drink a mite forcefully, but did that really turn you completely off from drinking!?" the Rider shouted, recalling the events of her still living self from said Singularity as she grabbed another mug full of rum.
"Yep," Ritsuka admitted bluntly as Drake decided not to comment, instead chugging down the mug full of rum.
"Didn't Ritsuka beat your ass for trying to force him to drink?" Robin commented, holding a small can of Budweisser and proceeding to shotgun it.
"You're cleaning that if any of it gets on the floor," Moriarty warned as Robin flipped him the bird with his free hand, still drinking.
"Alright, who the hell set off Nightingale!?" the door to the bar slammed open, Da Vinci stomping in, annoyed as the sounds of chaos filtered in behind her.
"I did," James admitted, shaking his tumbler before looking at her. "Sherlock was smuggling substances through fruit again."
"Again!?" Da Vinci complained as suddenly a laser flew down the hallway behind her. She slammed the door shut, keeping the chaos outside while the inside of the bar was calm, ironically. "How did you-" Da Vinci's hand flew up as she was cut off, an apple flying into her hand that William Tell threw to her. She sniffed it, before frowning. "Nevermind."
"Please enforce quality checks again?" Ritsuka asked as several Servants began grumbling.
"Dammit, there goes my manga business," Blackbeard complained as Columbus remained silent, hiding his face behind a newspaper as Bart was hiding his in a light novel.
"Oh for the love of… Is everyone smuggling something in!?" Da Vinci questioned, looking utterly annoyed as Moriarty raised his hand.
"I'm not," he stated.
"Just aiding and abetting," Ritsuka pointed out, and the bartending professor feigned being shot in the heart by his Master's words.
"For the love of…" Da Vinci muttered as she tossed the apple to Shuten, who proceeded to dunk it in her wine before eating it.
"To be fair, I wasn't helping Sherlock. My main method of getting things in wasn't through the fruit," James admitted, having been found out by the current director.
"Just give me a coffee James, Jamaican, I'm gonna need it for tonight," Da Vinci complained, the professor nodding and going for one of the various coffee pots around the bar, turning it on to begin making a nice Jamaican roast.
"Oh please don't tell me the MA actually wants a report?" Ritsuka complained as Da Vinci slowly nodded. In response to that, Ritsuka just groaned before banging his head against the table.
"...So are you sure you don't want that drink?" Drake asked one last time.
"For the last time Drake! I'm not drinking! Not now, not ever!" Ritsuka declared.
9.1: Never underestimate experienced fishers.
9.2: Guess where she is!
9.3: Well I suppose without Stanley around I have to make stories for you all
9.4: Who needs 'The One Ring' anyway when you've got eldritch power?
9.5: Mental Corruption: Unable to be understood without a similar level of insanity
9.6: Concise and well written, by many an opinion
9.7: Anything can change, Prophecy is but a mere suggestion. It is those that act upon them that give them power.
9.8: No drinks for this Anchor.
With that all out of the way, I hope you all enjoyed. Please, Favorite, Watch and Review, I'm always happy to hear feedback. But until next time everyone!