Disclaimer: The works of Type-Moon and Jō Taketsuki are their own despite my most fervent wishes. This is a fan work and if anyone does pay me for it the only thing it will accomplish is to get me into trouble. This is being done purely for fun, constructive criticism is welcome, and flames will be ignored. Please be gentle though, this is the first fanfic I've put on the net.
Originally this chapter was meant to cover the entire Feast, but after a full month it was already my longest chapter to date and still not finished. In the end I decided to divide the Feast into two chapters, the next is already mostly written and shouldn't take me more than a week or two (at the absolute most) to finish. I hope you all enjoy what I've written and will look forwards to the next instalment.
I was honestly surprised at how well my last chapter went down with my readers. To my immense surprise it seems that my giddy Guinevere is unexpectedly popular. I confess that I originally wasn't planning to have her attend the Feast, but on my last day of writing (when I confess to being slightly buzzed on pain killers) the idea just came to me and I decided to go with it.
A lot of people have been asking me about the costs and disadvantages of the Armours, so allow me to explain my reasoning behind what I came up with.
The Armour of the Champion is an armour made for the best, for the greatest, the one who acts as leader, warrior and paragon. Consequently it inhibits none of its wearer's Authorities. The only reason that it increases the cost of Shirou's Tracing is a side effect due to its defensive strength. Since it's so strong it makes it a bit harder for Shirou's Prana to leave his body, not enough to cripple him, but enough to make Tracing a bit more difficult.
The Black Knight's Armour works on the concept of the 'lone knight without lord or followers'. While wearing this armour Shirou cannot have fame, glory or servants, this is why the Dragon Slaying Hero and the Hero's Bride will not work with this armour. Both of these Authorities are based on the concepts of the Glory of a Hero, something the Black Knight can never enjoy. Mount of the Hero is compatible due to it being a popular image for the Black Knight to be astride a horse, that's why this armour can 'adjust' Snow to be a suitable mount. Rule of the Underworld is incompatible for largely similar reasons since it is the Authority of a King. The Black Knight can never become a King, not unless he ceases to be the Black Knight.
Steel for the Legion works along the concept of its user giving up their own strength in order to share it with others. Were this to belong to a 'normal' Campione then using this would seal their strongest Authority until they ceased to use Steel for the Legion. However Shirou is unusual in that his greatest strength isn't one of his Authorities but rather his innate magic, his Reality Marble, this is why his Tracing is heavily restricted while using this Authority. I haven't yet decided what effect this will have on Unlimited Blade Works once he finally learns how to fully realize it.
Titan Knight seems to have been well received, though it seems that my reasons for it not being able to use Tracing have been a bit unclear for some. Becoming the giant knight involves a full body transformation into a being that is pretty much living metal. This form lacks any sort of magic circuits or the normal channels through which Prana flows, consequently he can't use magic to Trace any objects or use Structural Analysis. Any swords that he sees will still be recorded within his Reality Marble; however he won't be able to access them until he returns to human form.
No Omake on this chapter I'm afraid, maybe on the next one.
SPOILERS.
Luo Hao was a bit hard to write in this chapter, especially since I'm not entirely sure how she should have reacted to the learning that Godou apparently has his own harem. In the Light Novels it's implied that she has some romantic affection for Godou, but doesn't know how to properly recognize or express it. The way I see it is that her encounter with Godou is the first time in a while she's encountered an attractive young man that's of a similar rank to herself and who makes a good impression. I know that she's encountered Alec and Salvatore in the past, but having read their character presentation in the Light Novels I don't imagine that either of them would present themselves to her in a way that would make her think of them as potential romances.
However in my story she has been exposed to two young men, both attractive in their own way, that have proven themselves in her eyes to be her peers, if not equals given her towering ego.
In regards to the wines and drinks that Yusuke provides for the Feast; given that I'm a strictly non-alcoholic fellow my knowledge of wines and other spirits is second and third hand at best. As such most of the brands and drinks that I'll be using in this chapter will be completely and utterly fictional, my apologies if this offends any wine enthusiasts that might read this fic.
I've thrown in a new skill for Illya, but it isn't a particularly useful one so I don't think it throws the story off too much. What she can do is the magical equivalent of spotting calluses on a man's hands. Such signs indicate that he is familiar with a certain level of physical work, but unless the one seeing them is an expert then the calluses could be from wielding a sword, a blacksmith's hammer or pushing a hand cart. Illya isn't worldly enough to be able to determine much about those she observes using this method other than that they are in regular contact with an artefact of a certain level of power.
I'd also like to offer my most sincere thanks to nOmster who was kind enough to act as my Beta and make sure that this chapter was much freer of errors than the one I sent him.
God Slaying Blade Works: Chapter Fourteen: The Feast of the Kings Part One
Shirou tugged at the collar of his shirt and wondered what it was about stressful situations that made clothes seem to shrink on him. When he'd first tried this shirt on it had fitted like a glove, no pinching, no problems. Now though, it was as though this wretched collar was trying to ever so gently strangle him when he wasn't paying enough attention.
In the end Shirou had decided to forgo dressing up in any particularly formal clothes, instead simply putting on some smart casual garb that had been recently purchased. The shirt was white and only buttoned down to the base of his throat, it was made of decent material but nothing so extravagant as silk. Aside from that he wore some dark blue trousers that were likewise smart but casual along with comfortable but well-made shoes.
Truth be told he'd rather be wearing his trusty blue and white sweat shirt. Not the original one of course, that had been a complete write off after his fight with Hades, but since returning to Japan the eighth Campione had managed to get hold of some new ones that were so similar that it would have taken a forensic specialist, or a fashionista, to tell the difference.
"Shirou, stop fidgeting."
Ah, and there was the reason why he wasn't clad in his favoured style.
His dear adopted sister was currently dressed in an exquisitely cut ball gown coloured in various shades of lavender, purple and white. Despite her young age Illya was showing every bit of the poise and elegance that had been hammered into her by her upbringing as the heir to the Einzbern family. The snow haired girl wore the dress like a queen, quite frankly Shirou felt slightly inadequate when compared to her, as though she were the host here rather than him.
He'd originally planned to dress in the same style that he always did, his line of reasoning being that if it was good enough to meet hostile deities then it was good enough to meet his fellow Kings. However as soon as he'd revealed this decision to Illya she'd immediately dismissed it and had practically dragged to his room in order to make sure he had 'suitable' clothes. What he was wearing right now was actually a compromise since he'd flat out refused to meet his guests in the satin dinner jacket that his adopted sister had bought him as something of a gag gift.
Still she seemed to have made it her personal mission to ensure that he was as impeccably prepared as she could make him, and that include her admonishing him on his stance, posture and anything else she could think of. If it weren't for the fact that her attempts to look stern and demanding only resulted in her appearing painfully cute then it might have been irritating, as it was it was actually mildly endearing.
Still right now he really wanted to head her off from another lecture on decorum, so he tried to change the subject.
"That's a really lovely dress Illya-chan, when did you get it?"
Given that every time the young Einzbern bought a new piece of clothing she insisted that he give her his opinion on it it really was quite unusual to see such a spectacular dress without having seen it before.
"I submitted a design request to Matsuoka's Dressmakers last week; I had Jemma send them a message saying I'd pay triple if they could get it ready by tonight. It just arrived half an hour ago."
Her face suddenly turned shy.
"Does it really look good on me?"
With a broad smile on his face the eighth Campione lent forwards in a comically exaggerated bow.
"My dear Illya," he said, his voice as outrageously flowery and overdramatic as possible, "you look positively radiant, a veritable young princess that graces my humble home."
Illya blushed, but also looked very pleased at the compliments being paid to her.
"Still, I'm surprised that you were able to get the dress in time," Shirou commented as he stood up straight again. "I thought that there was always a long wait for clothes from Matsuoka's. That's what you said a couple of week ago, right?"
"Jemma went over there in person and was able to 'convince' them to have it ready on time. She's really been useful since she stopped being scared of me."
The young Emiya nodded at that as his mind recalled the young woman in question. Jemma Pesaro had been one of the former members of the Circle of the Chosen that had elected to remain in Japan rather than return to Italy. She had been among the first to overcome their fear of both Illya and himself and had quickly worked hard to make herself as useful as possible. Her efforts had led to her becoming his adopted sister's unofficial aid and general gofer. Perhaps not the most glamorous of lives, but he had to acknowledge both her competence and efficiency.
"You know I'm thinking about giving her a promotion from being a mere minion."
"Oh? What's the next rank up then?"
"That would be lackey." The Snow haired girl answered with a straight face, though he could see the corners of her mouth twitching slightly.
"A major step up," agreed Shirou as he did his best to keep his own face serious despite his urge to grin, "And what would be the next step up after that?"
"Flunky of course," she replied, "I have it all worked out, the ranks are minion, lackey, flunky, crony, pawn and lastly servant. Once they've reached the rank of servant then we can give them official badges."
The adopted siblings looked at each other in silence for a brief moment, their faces showing the strain as they tried to maintain their serious expressions. Then they both couldn't take it any more and collapsed into barely controlled laughter.
It felt good to let go of some tension. Right now it was 6:45pm, only fifteen minutes until the official beginning of his Feast.
Everything was ready, food, drinks, decorations, seating, everything. He'd spent more than half an hour in the afternoon making sure that the lighting alone would meet his expectations. He'd prepared gifts for all potential visitors and was confident that he'd thought of almost all possibilities.
But that didn't change the fact that he felt like he had a flock of Mothra sized butterflies fluttering about inside his stomach.
Right now he and Illya were waiting in the main hall of the manor. Despite its Eastern set up the mansion had some touches of western influence, and one of them was the large entrance hall. Another of the former Circle members was waiting at the open gates to greet any arrivals and to show them into the mansion where the host of the event was ready to greet them with his adopted sister.
Further thoughts were cut off as an alarm went off in both their heads while in the hall before them a small cyclone of flower petals suddenly appeared. The bright plants whipped around obscuring the view behind them and then faded away to reveal two figures that had not been there a moment before.
One of them was a woman clad in beautiful Chinese finery from the era of the Han Dynasty. However even the masterful work and colouring of her garb was eclipsed by her natural loveliness. Her silky black hair was done in much the same style as the last time Shirou had seen it, though the flower like ornaments that she sported were clearly more intricate and artistic than the ones she had worn earlier when heading into battle. She was also carrying a folded fan in her left hand, though the way she held it reminded him of someone holding a short sword.
At her side was a young man dressed in less extravagant but none the less elegant clothing of a similar style to the woman he accompanied. His hair was black with deep purple highlights and his bared arms showed the toning and definition of a trained martial artist.
The eighth Campione had no trouble at all in recognizing the woman who had managed to manifest before him in so grand a fashion.
"Ah, sempai. I'm happy to see you again, but aren't you a bit early?" Shirou spoke as he stepped forwards to greet his fellow King. As he did so he mentally shifted into the character of the Fake King, although now that he thought about it perhaps after tonight that persona would no longer be a fake.
"As the most senior of the Kings meeting for this feast it was only proper this Luo Cuilian to be the first to arrive at your home King Emiya."
He couldn't help but smile in the face of her utterly innocent egotism; honestly he should have expected her to do something like this. Still better to get a conversation going rather than letting the Ruler of the Martial World grow bored, who knew what might happen then.
"I've seen your companion before but I don't believe we've been introduced. Would you do me the honour?"
"Indeed, indeed. Come forward my young eagle; introduce yourself to your master's fellow Ruler, the admirable young King that has brought your master to a draw in contests twice."
The young man stepped forwards and held his left fist in his right hand; he bowed his head and saluted to the host of the gathering using the traditional martial arts way.
"This modest trainee gratefully thanks his majesty, King Emiya Shirou-sama, for his gracious generosity in allowing this humble student of her Eminence to attend this auspicious meeting of the Kings of the world. May your prosperity outlast the sun and may your wisdom and might bring opulence and success to all beneath your rule.
"I am Lu Yinghua, the most fortunate trainee that my great master chose to educate in the martial arts. I have been granted the privilege of fighting beside your formidable sister and shall speak with great regard when asked of how the sibling of the eighth King comported herself in the face of our foes. Truly yours is a family blessed with much might."
For a moment Shirou was taken aback by the flowery speech and the eloquent praise, then his memory kicked in and he smiled.
"Ah, yes, I believe that my sister mentioned you when telling me of what had happened while sempai and I were trapped within the Monkey King's cave. You are the young man who led off one of Sun Wukong's Divine Beasts so that Illya could face the other without distractions. Later you provided valuable information and stayed at the site of your master imprisonment in order to aid in the rescue attempts. Truly you have a fine and admirable young student sempai."
Actually from what he'd been able to gather the young martial artist had stayed at Toushouguu and occasionally made loud lamentations about the predicament his master was in while taking it easy and playing computer games with Sayanomiya Kaoru and Amakasu Touma. Still he'd reframe from mentioning that, that would be just fishing for trouble.
"Indeed," agreed Luo Hao as she patted her student's head in a manner rather reminiscant of that used to show affection to some pet, "My young eagle comported himself most satisfactorily in my absence. Further proof that he has been diligent in his studies and has well learnt the lessons that this Luo Cuilian has taught him."
"Well then sempai, will you wait here with me as we await the arrival of our other guests, or would you prefer that I escort you to a waiting room and you can join us when the other guests have arrived?"
"I shall naturally remain here to greet our fellow Kings upon their arrival King Emiya. It would not do for Luo Hao to wait in the wings after all."
With an acknowledging nod of his head Shirou gestured acceptingly to a spot next to him, an invitation for his guest to stand with him rather than away. In reply the Chinese Campione offered her own nod of acceptance and with a regality that would have made any empress proud calmly walked forwards until she and her disciple were standing next to the red haired teen and his adopted sister.
There was a moment of slightly awkward silence as the two 'camps' observed each other with a sort of non-hostile trepidation. In the end Shirou chose to break this unease by bringing up a subject near and dear to his heart.
Cooking and food.
"So tell me sempai, do you have a particular preference as far as eating goes? My staff have been putting great effort into getting the food ready for tonight, and I'm sure that there'll be something to fit anyone's taste."
The Ruler of the Martial Realm seemed somewhat taken aback by the unexpected topic of conversation, but quickly rallied and took on a thoughtful look.
"While I confess to being most comfortable with traditional Chinese cuisine I do confess to having a fondness for some Italian dishes. Though their preparation and constitution does lack somewhat in sophistication they do have a most satisfying taste and texture."
"Really?" Shirou asked genuinely interested, "so which dishes were they that caught your fancy. I've always liked spaghetti myself. It's sort of like noodles, but different enough that . . ."
The next few minutes passed quickly as the pair of God Slayers fell into an oddly ordinary conversation upon the merits, or lack thereof, of various foreign dishes. They were both so engrossed that when a knock came at the door they were honestly somewhat surprised at how quickly the time had passed.
"Enter." Shirou called as he turned to face the door. At his command Kaida stepped in and bowed to the two Campione.
"Shirou-sama, Kusanagi Godou-sama and his companions have arrived; Macari-san is showing them in now. Shall I have them brought directly here, or shall I direct them to one of the lounges where you and Luo Hao-sama can join them later?"
"There's no need to delay our meeting, please bring them directly here while extending all possible courtesy."
"Understood Shirou-sama, by your leave . . ." with an elegant bow the Hime-Miko in her maid's uniform bowed and closed the door.
"Excellent, so King Kusanagi has arrived and it would seem that he's brought those girls that were with him. I recall that two of them are Great Knights from the country of Italy and the others are miko from the local magical society. I wonder if they will prove to be suitable companions for my little brother."
The musings of the Chinese Campione drew Shirou's attention back to her once more; however it was Illya that addressed her first.
"In regards to that there is no need for concern your eminence," she said, "During my time with them I received plenty of chances to observe how competent and dedicated Godou's harem was to him, and I can tell you with total honesty that those girls would die for him if they had to."
There was a slight pause as Luo Hao stared at the snowy haired girl in a rather disconcerting manner. As though she were looking at some pet in a shop window and wondering as to whether or not its pelt would make for good clothing. It only lasted for a moment though, then her expression softened.
"If the beloved sibling of my fellow King will speak so highly of these girls then I shall pay heed to what I am told." A frown crossed her face, "though I would hear more of why you call these girls my sworn brother's 'harem'."
"Oh, that's because-"
Whatever else Illya was going to say was cut off as Kaida and Manaka suddenly slid the large sliding door to the entrance hall open and announced the arrival of the new guests.
"Presenting his majesty Kusanagi Godou-sama along with his companions for the evening; Erica Blandelli, Diavolo Rosso of the Copper-Black Cross. Liliana Kranjcar, Great Knight of the Bronze-Black Cross. Mariya Yuri and her younger sister Mariya Hikari, both Hime-Miko of the History Compilation Committee and sworn to the service of Godou-sama. Lastly Seishuuin Ena, Hime-Miko of the Sword and . . ."
There was a sudden pause as the red eyed Hime-Miko stepped up close to the Dragon's Roar wielder and started to whisper something to her. Shirou noted with interest that Kaida blushed bright red at whatever it was that Ena was saying to her and shook her head furiously. Ena, however, didn't appear to be deterred by her apparent refusal and simply whispered to her again. This went on for a couple more exchanges and the eighth Campione was beginning to consider whether or not to use reinforced hearing to find out what they were discussing when Kaida finally nodded in acquiescence.
". . . And . . ." there was another pause while the Hime-Miko turned maid directed an imploring look at Ena, only to have it rebuffed by an encouraging nod of the head from the warrior Miko, " . . . and formally acknowledged concubine, and hence no longer his underground woman."
On hearing those words the Seishuuin heir strode into the hall while looking very pleased with herself.
As this happened Shirou took the opportunity to take a good look at his newly arrived guests. To his admitted surprise Godou didn't look unhappy or resigned as the eighth Campione had half expected, rather he looked . . . resolved. Not intimidated or nervous, his expression was largely neutral, but in a strangely pleasant way. Of course that was only until Kaida finished her introduction for Ena, then his face became a picture of pained woe.
"Welcome to my home," Shirou declared as he stepped forwards, "I'm pleased that you've decided to attend Kusanagi-san, I feared you might choose not to come. You and your companions are all most welcome."
"I'm pleased to see that you've decided to attend our ally's most excellent event my sworn little brother," announced Luo Hao as she also stepped forwards. "Had you forsaken this magnificent opportunity you would have brought considerable shame to both your own name and the name of your sworn elder sister."
"Err, thank you Emiya-san, I'm glad not to disappoint you Nee-san." Godou's left hand came up to rub the back of his head in an expression of slight awkwardness that the young head of the Emiya clan was familiar with. "I thought it would be kind of rude to turn down the invitation, but I'm not really too sure what to expect."
"I'm sure that this evening will not prove to be a bore Kusanagi-san," Shirou hastily assured his guest, then he noticed that the female Campione's features were marred by a slight frown. "Is something the matter sempai?"
"I do not like this," she declared, her hand tapping her fan into her empty palm, "Both you and my sworn brother address me in the correct form, but you do not address one another correctly, and, now that I think about it, do I address you as I should."
"Sempai?" there was honest confusion in the young man's voice.
"Precisely, that is a correct form of address, one both respectful and familiar. A suitable term of address between those who have been allies as we all have. However you are both still calling each other by your family names, and this is not suitable. We are Kings, we should be known by our own names rather than those of our families, after all have any in our family's histories ever achieved such heights as becoming Rakshasa Raja? Should our own given names not have more weight to them?"
For a moment a number of responses went through Shirou's mind. The fact that he was adopted. The fact that his adopted father had been an assassin so successful that he'd basically made a new official title through his achievements. Then he dismissed the thought, he still had secrets he wished to keep, so bringing those topics up wasn't something he should be doing.
Still, he could see the older Campione's point. They had all fought together; it seemed somewhat absurd to continue using the formal and impersonal address after that.
"That's fine with me," commented Godou, "How about you . . . Shirou?"
Before the eighth Campione could give his reply the sound of applause came from the other side of the room. All present looked up to see the costumed form of John Pluto Smith leaning casually against the door frame whilst clapping his hands enthusiastically.
"Magnificently done your Eminence. Truly a heart warming display of two young men casting aside their former awkwardness in order to become true friends. This John Pluto Smith offers his heartiest approval and admiration for your good work here."
Shirou paused for a moment and wondered just what it said about his life that he was not that surprised that this had happened. The American Campione had somehow managed to enter his mansion and arrive in this very room without tripping a single one of the multitude of security measures he and Illya had managed to set up and it didn't surprise him in the least.
Idly he wondered if he was becoming jaded.
The caped hero of Los Angeles stepped forward, his steel tipped boots clicking on the wooded floor and his cape fluttering like that of some cinema vampire.
"My greeting to you all, my fellow Kings; please allow me to be a part of this heart-warming agreement of friendship, address me as you would prefer. On this night I feel there is little need to stand upon ceremony."
"I bid you welcome to my home John Pluto Smith," the host of the Feast replied as he extended his hand in greeting to the latest arrival, "I see that you've elected to come alone, is your collaborator still injured? My sister spoke highly of her and I was looking forward to making her acquaintance."
"Annie is as well as can be expected," the masked Campione replied as he shook the offered hand, "the healing took a bit out of her, but she should be ready to leave the country tomorrow morning without any problems. That aside did I not just say that it was acceptable to be less formal, have my words been cast aside so soon?"
Shirou smiled and took a step back while spreading his arms wide.
"Allow me my formality in the act of at least greeting my dear guest by his full name. As of now I agree that proceedings should be less formal and so I shall address you as Smith."
It was of course impossible to tell what expression was upon the man's face behind his mask, but for some reason the eighth Campione was sure that his guest was smiling broadly.
"It is a pleasure to see you both once more," Illya spoke up as she curtsied to both the newly arrived Campione. "I fear that I was unable to bid you both a suitable farewell after your victory over the Monkey King and his siblings, but at least now I may give you both a proper welcome to my home."
The American King simply inclined his head in acknowledgement, but Godou was more expressive, directing a warm smile to the snow haired girl along with a grateful look.
"Very well King Shirou," Luo Hao spoke up as she moved forwards to the centre of the hall where all the other Campione had gathered, "Now that we are all here shall we move to the festivities that you say you have planned. This Luo Cuilian is curious to see if this cook of whom you speak so highly can compare to the work of my own servants."
"Actually, we're still missing one more guest."
The Ruler of the Martial Realm paused in mid turn before turning back to frown at Shirou.
"This is a gathering of Kings King Shirou, whom could you have invited to this auspicious celebration that would be fit to join our august company?"
As though in reply to the question Shirou felt the small alarm go off in his head just as it had earlier that morning. At his side he felt Illya stiffen as she too sensed one of the security fields being tripped, but when her adopted brother laid a hand on her shoulder and gently squeezed she relaxed.
"I do believe that our final guest should be arriving in just a few moments," answered the red haired young man as he gestured towards the door.
It really was remarkable just how well he was being able to time these things lately. As though the entire thing had been scripted and practiced Guinevere faded into view even as he waved his arm in her direction. As before she was clad in a white dress of vaguely Victorian cut, though this time the dress she wore was far more ornate, more of a gown than a dress. She also had a slightly nervous expression upon her face, but it was only a slight thing that was clearly held in check by her bravery.
"Lady Guinevere will be attending our Feast to represent the sovereignty of her King. I thought that having a representative for one of the most famed kings in history might do well to enrichen our discussions tonight." As he spoke Shirou turned back to the Witch Queen. "Lady Guinevere, I am thankful that you have elected to accept my invitation to my Feast, please consider yourself welcome in my house."
In response the golden haired Divine Ancestor curtsied in a courtly manner.
"Guinevere is privileged to be allowed to attend this auspicious gathering of Kings. I shall endeavour to comport myself in a manner so as not to bring shame to either my gracious host or my noble fellow guests."
"To invite a Divine Ancestor to a gathering of Kings . . ." John Pluto Smith commented as he tilted his masked head, "A most unusual decision to make King Shirou. Traditionally the former goddesses are the enemies of us God Slayers. I myself have spent many months dealing with the machinations of another in my homeland. As the leader of the Sorcerous group King of Flies she was quite formidable."
"Guinevere has done nothing to make herself my enemy," Shirou replied, "And to the best of my knowledge she has no feud with any of the Kings here tonight. That aside, I owe her a debt for her aiding me after my battle with Mordred. I believe in repaying my debts, and extending this invitation seemed an appropriate courtesy to extend."
He'd worked out that the Divine Ancestor must have been the one to apply some healing magic to him after his battle with the old god. There was no other explanation as to why he'd felt so surprisingly energetic when he'd awoken, given how drained he'd felt when he passed out. He wasn't entirely sure why she'd done it; but given that he'd just fought a pitched battle with one that she had good reason to hate and that he'd saved her life he supposed there was ample reason for her gratitude.
"It is true that I, Lou Hao, have no enmity with this Divine Ancestor," agreed the Ruler of the Martial Realm as she stepped forwards, "Indeed we have recently been allies in an endeavour that has yielded surprisingly fine results. Still, I do not believe she should be a part of a gathering of Kings. We are the Supreme Rulers that stride the path of total domination. She is a fallen goddess that is now but the maidservant of another deity."
-()-
Guinevere stood before the assembled Campione and did her best not to fidget, blush or show any hint of the nervousness that was bubbling within her.
She'd thought about not coming, about going back on her decision to attend this insane Feast. She considered simply getting out of the country entirely until she was ready to return. After all even though the appearance of Mordred had indeed taken up the majority of her attention she had been able to lay spells to monitor the actions of the Great Sage Equal to Heaven. When she'd gone over what those spells had found she had been elated. She still needed to compare the knowledge she'd gained with some other information she had stored in her stronghold, but she was becoming convinced that this chain of islands in the Far East was the final resting place of her beloved King of the End.
However she had decided against it. There was still the matter of the young Campione that could somehow wield the power of both her King and her protector despite not having claimed an Authority from either of them through the curse of Pandora. That was simply too intriguing a puzzle for her to leave unsolved.
In truth she was beginning to put a theory together. She admitted that for the moment it was somewhat shaky and possessed a large number of holes, but she was sure that it was at least close to the truth.
Her thought was that sir Shirou must in some way not have been a pure blooded human before he became a Campione. The notion was strange, given that only human mortals could be subject to the curse that granted the Devil Kings the powers of gods, but she thought that it might have some grounds. She'd never heard of a human possessing an essence of Steel, such was only the providence of the gods of Steel. If one accepted this fact then it meant that sir Shirou must be an existence that was tainted or influenced by a powerful external force. Perhaps it was in his bloodline, or perhaps he was some sort of secret project of a bored deity, one seeking to create an impossibility.
However her personal theory was that sir Shirou had somehow come into contact with her King while he slept in the earth.
Artus was beyond doubt the most powerful god she'd ever witnessed, where other gods more often than not fell to Campione her King of the End had battled God Slayer after God Slayer and always emerged victorious regardless of the odds he faced. Given that then what effect might it have upon a child or young man that might have stumbled across him. Would that contact, that exposure to the power of the Strongest Steel in its purest form, be enough to impart the essence of Steel upon a mortal?
If so then that would mean that her suspicions that Artus rested in Japan were correct, it would also mean that sir Shirou might know where he was. Perhaps that knowledge was not possessed upon a conscious level, but if her theory was correct then there was a good chance that her saviour was the best clue she could hope for in her quest to be once more reunited with her beloved master.
It was for this that she had decided to attend this Feast of Kings that the red haired Campione had invited her to. In defiance of both logic and common sense she had willingly entered the den of the lions that were her natural enemies.
And now that she was here one of those very lions was questioning her worthiness to be here.
"Your Eminence, Guinevere does not in any way think herself the peer of the Kings of this world. However sir Shirou has called this gathering as a contest of Kingship and he has generously allowed me to attend as the representative of my esteemed Master. I know that Guinevere's memories of my King are fragmented, but I feel that I remember enough to be able to do justice to his Kingship if called to defend it. I ask you to allow my attendance not as your equal but as the mouthpiece of the one who is."
The Witch Queen might be a bit intimidated by the number of Campione arrayed before her, but she had died twice in the service of her lord and had endured through the millennia for his sake. She would not allow a chance to defend his rule to be brushed aside so casually as this.
"I have no issues with the queen of Camelot attending our contest," declared Jon Pluto Smith with a smile almost audible on his voice, "It shall add some lustre to the evening, and I confess to being somewhat curious as to what kind of king she served in ages past."
Luo Cuilian frowned slightly and turned to Godou.
"And what is your view little brother?"
"I don't see her presence as a problem, isn't a contest often more fun if there is lots of competition available?"
The Chinese Campione seemed to pause in thought for a moment before giving an acknowledging nod.
"Very well, this Luo Hao shall accede to the wishes of her host and her fellow guests. My newly sworn little brother is correct, a contest is the most entertaining when there is a surfeit of opponents against whom to match one's self."
"Very well then," declared sir Shirou as he strode over to a door and stepped through it while indicating that his guests should follow him, "Since the weather is fine and the night promises to be beautiful I have decided to have the feast served outside. If you will all accompany me I'm sure that the food shall not be found wanting."
He paused for a second as he stared at the American King.
"My apologies Smith, would you like me to prepare somewhere that you can eat in private?"
"Have no fear;" declared the masked Campione as he stepped forwards and caused his cape to billow, "The King of the Underworld has a number of tricks available to him. Rest assured that I shall have no problem in sampling whatever fare you have been able to prepare for us."
Guinevere made to follow after them, content to take the last place given that she didn't want to take the chance of causing any offence to the Kings by either presuming to be their equal or by placing herself ahead of their companions. However, to her surprise, she found that she had company. The white haired girl that had been standing next to sir Shirou had fallen into step beside her.
The Witch Queen allowed herself to frown internally as she turned her attention to the girl. This must of course be the eighth King's adopted sister. Guinevere had learnt of her when she'd sought further knowledge on the young man that had saved her life. Granted even with her magic and the resources available to her she'd only had a single day in which to learn more of him, but some things had stood out to her when she'd perused what information she'd been able to assemble.
Among those facts had been several mentions of the sheer level of power possessed by the girl called Illyasviel Von Einzbern. They wrote of how she held more power than any mortal had ever been recorded to possess, save of course for Campione, so much so that she was initially thought to be either a Divine Ancestor or a Divine Descendant only three or four generation removed from the divine source. Now that she was standing next to her Guinevere could feel the amount of mana she had within her and had to say she was honestly impressed. Not even her former ally, the most powerful witch on earth Lucretia Zola, had possessed such large reserves of power despite all her skill.
The Witch Queen was confident that her own reserves were the superior of the two, however on this occasion they were not so by the clear margin that she had become used to enjoying. Even among Divine Ancestors Guinevere was considered to be one of the most powerful, an advantage compounded by her possession of the Holy Grail and the protection of Lancelot. Consequently she was pretty much royalty within the ranks of the former goddesses, one of the few of her kind to be treated with almost as much of a hands off policy as a Campione by the various magic societies around the world.
So why was it that this girl barely into her teens made her nervous?
It wasn't simply her power or the depths of her reserves that unsettled her, of that she was certain. Potent though they were they were still only on par with some of the weaker Divine Ancestors, enough to be respectable, but hardly enough to worry her. It was something else, something that she couldn't quite lay her finger on.
There was an aura about the girl, an invisible feeling that the Witch Queen couldn't quite pin down. It was in some ways close to divinity, but the feel, the 'flavour' of the power, was distinctly different. Also there was the disquieting sensation that it wasn't so much emanating from the young girl as it was accompanying her. It was a phenomenon that Guinevere had never encountered before, but the feeling of barely restrained tension within that power was enough to put her nerves on edge.
"You helped onii-chan after his battle?"
The question broke the golden haired Divine Ancestor out of her thoughts and brought her back to the present. Casting aside her ruminations she instead focused upon answering the question.
"Yes, sir Shirou saved Guinevere when sir Mordred tried to kill me. Since sir Shirou had exhausted himself slaying the Traitor Knight I felt it was only my duty to aid him in his recovery afterwards."
There was a moment of silence as the eighth Campione's sister seemed to study her.
"Well . . . my thanks for helping Shirou. I felt how low his life force had fallen after the battle, for a time I was scared it would fade away entirely. Your aid to him might well have saved his life, though I'm not sure he realizes it himself."
Those odd red eyes turned to her again, and for a moment the Witch Queen felt oddly pressured by the stare.
"But . . . don't think that that means that you kiss Shirou whenever you want. I won't approve of strange people kissing onii-chan. Even if he did choose the Matou girl . . ."
Guinevere wasn't too sure what that last sentence referred to, but as things stood she honestly didn't care. That comment had struck a bit too close to home given some of the guilty daydreams she'd found herself having of late. More and more she found her mind had kept on wandering back to the moment on the blasted and slashed battlefield. To the moment when she'd pressed her lips to the fallen King's mouth in order to heal him.
She'd tried to reassure herself with the thought that if her theory that sir Shirou's nature had been changed by contact with Artus was correct then it would explain her attraction to him. It would mean that he could be regarded as the shadow of her beloved King of the End.
At least that was what she told herself.
"I-I assure you that Guinevere has no such intentions," she tried to assure the red eyed girl even as she felt her cheeks starting to flame, "I am here in order to defend the Kingship of my master before the Kings that have gathered here, nothing else."
"Good," replied Illyasviel as she nodded her head, "Because I'm Shirou's ally no matter what and as long as you're not his enemy I won't have to kill you."
That was enough to draw a surprised look from the former goddess. Unlike Heretic Gods Divine Ancestors were not so far beyond the capacities of mortals that none would dare to oppose them. However that didn't change the fact that even the weakest of all the fallen goddesses possessed powers the likes of which even the most gifted of mages could not equal. Certainly a group of talented and well organized magic users could conceivably bring down a Divine Ancestor in much the same way a pack of wolves could pull down a bear. But for a single girl to make that threat, well, it should have been ludicrous.
But it wasn't. The white haired girl had spoken the words not as a threat or a warning, but as an absolute statement of fact. If Guinevere were to become the enemy of sir Shirou then his sister would kill her. To her own immense surprise the Witch Queen found herself believing her too. She might wield an artefact of unfathomable power and be protected by one of the oldest and strongest deities of Steel, but despite that she couldn't help but feel that this tiny mortal would succeed in ending her life.
Further analysis of this strange feeling was cut off as the group of guests finished walking through the corridors of the eighth Campione's mansion and stepped out into his garden and the fresh air of early evening. Above them the sky was taking on the first minor tinges of sunset red and the first stars were starting to show themselves. The various artfully arranged plants of the garden were in the full and vibrant life of summer and lent themselves to an excellent background.
Ahead of them was a large patio set up in the middle of the lawn with a small pavilion style tent of Japanese cut erected next to it. A number of long wooden poles had been driven into the ground about the patio and several chairs and tables had been arranged upon it. Three women in maid uniforms stood by the side of the pavilion with looks of professional attentiveness on their faces.
But the main thing that caught her attention was the smell that was wafting out of the pavilion.
Guinevere was a Divine Ancestor, and as such was not as susceptible to the needs of the body as a mortal girl her age. If she so chose then she could easily go for weeks or even months without food or water. It might be a tad uncomfortable, but it was nothing that she couldn't deal with. Still despite that she often saw no problem in indulging herself and enjoying her food, indeed she'd developed something of a sweet tooth that she quietly indulged on occasion. In her life she had been privileged to dine in settings fit for royalty, had eaten delicacies normally reserved for great rulers.
In short she had experienced some of the best cooking that the world had to offer.
And yet the smells that drifted tantalizingly from the silken tent before her caused her mouth to moisten involuntarily.
"First allow me to present my feast to you all," declared sir Shirou as he gestured towards the pavilion, "I have prepared plenty of food and drink for all to eat more than their fill, and I assure you that all of it is truly fit for a King. Let us take our fill of the food and drink and indulge in some light conversation before we settle down to our contest."
Guinevere nodded her head in silent agreement. Yes, that sounded like a good idea, after all it let her get at that delicious smelling food that much sooner.
-()-
"Are all the preparations complete? We cannot afford to allow any errors to occur."
At the sound of her ally's voice Brynhildr had to restrain the urge to seize one of her more pointed instruments and stab it into the blue and red haired Divine Ancestor's neck.
That had been happening a lot lately, for some reason all the slightly irritating personality quirks that she'd been able to patiently deal with for the past few centuries were now driving her to levels of murderous irritation. She really couldn't explain it; it wasn't as though the elder fallen goddess had changed her habits or anything of the like. It was simply that what Brynhildr had once been able to ignore or endure now grated on her nerves like claws on a blackboard.
Still, she would not allow that to break her. Too much was riding on the actions of tonight to let her unsettled nerves throw her off. With careful precision she made the last mark on the object upon her work top and then leaned back to observe the fruit of her labours.
"Ah, you've completed it, my apologies for interrupting you then. It would seem that my worries were unfounded."
The golden haired Divine Ancestor closed her eyes and allowed herself to relax back into her chair as she listened to her companion's words. It was gratifying to hear her admit that her concerns had been without merit; it soothed her nerves and eased the sting of her champion's loss. That pain still lingered despite the day and a night that had passed.
"The cradle is finished."
The quiet almost monotone voice jerked Brynhildr out of the pleasantly relaxed state she'd fallen into in a rather jarring manner. It still irritated her just how well Athena was able to conceal her divine aura. The blonde fallen goddess might have centuries' worth of experience in hiding and detecting potential threats, but the goddess of darkness and wisdom could still approach her without being detected in any way. Intellectually she knew that as a true divinity Athena's abilities were beyond her own, but that still didn't stop her feelings of inadequacy and anger.
With a small shake to herself she dismissed the thought and brought herself back to the matter at hand.
"Indeed honoured Athena," she said as she inclined her head in respect to the deity in the form of a child. "It is fortunate that you are here, that means that we no longer need contact you. Would you be so kind as to invest the cradle with a portion of your power as we spoke of earlier."
The old goddess of earth and darkness said nothing, but instead reached out wordlessly to the object that Brynhildr had spent the last eight hours diligently working upon.
In appearance it vaguely resembled a bird's nest that had been made out of sticks carved from polished obsidian. The carved 'sticks' that made up its form were thin as straw stems but were marked along their length with dozens upon dozens of tiny carved runes. This was an artefact that would have made any mage that saw it gape in awe had they seen it, so intricate and complex was it.
Now Athena fed a steady flow of her power into the artefact, power that was greedily absorbed by the convoluted series of interlocking spell wards that Brynhildr had carved into it. Before long the black natural glass of the talisman seemed to radiate a deeper darkness as the goddesses power was fully internalized.
"It is done; I leave the rest to you."
Without further discussion or preamble the deity in the form of a child turned and strode out of the room. For a moment the blonde Divine Ancestor felt irritation and anger tug at her heart. Who was she to dismiss her and her work so easily? Did she forget that though she might not be reduced to a Divine Ancestor she was still a broken goddess rather than a complete deity? She was nothing, she was worthless, she was-
With a shake of her head Brynhildr cut off those lines of thought. Even in her reduced state Athena was still a being of great power, and as such not someone to tread carelessly around, certainly not someone against whom she could afford to carelessly leak malicious intent. If the goddess were to sense it then it would be perfectly within both her rights and character to kill the blonde Divine Ancestor in retaliation.
Instead she turned her attention back to the cradle that her fellow fallen goddess was carefully examining.
"Your work here has been superb," she complimented as she leaned back, "The spell array is holding honoured Athena's power perfectly without any flux or deviation from the desired flow. It's absolutely perfect."
Brynhildr's earlier irritation faded as her ally's praise soothed her earlier grievances. She wasn't sure why she was so much touchier of late, but for the moment at least she was back to her usual self. Well, never mind that, now she had to put the last touches to her work.
"There is still the last test, seeing whether or not it can actually perform the task for which it is designed."
As she spoke Brynhildr reached into a chest on her work top and pulled out the same gently glowing sphere that she had shown to her allies so many weeks ago in Naples. Since then the globe that had been the size of a marble had grown until it was now the size of an apple. The light it gave off had also changed, no longer was it colourless as it had been before. Now it was a rich and vibrant gold that tinted her skin as she picked it up.
With careful precision the blonde Divine Ancestor placed the orb into the exact centre of the cradle.
The effects were almost immediately visible; the subtle darkness that hovered about the artefact was slowly drawn towards the orb. However rather than smothering the light that darkness acted as fuel to its fire, feeding the golden light and making it brighter.
"It seems to be performing flawlessly," The artefact's creator commented in a low voice, "In a few more days it shall be ready, and then we shall be able to add another god to our allies."
There was an opening there, a moment that almost begged to be filled with a comment about how Brynhildr had wasted the last deity she'd managed to recruit to their cause. It was an opening to return her to her pervious ill humour and dark thoughts.
However the elder Divine Ancestor didn't say anything, instead she simply nodded her head, turned and walked out of the room.
Brynhildr let out a sigh of relief and turned back to watching the orb consume the dark power that Athena had invested into the cradle. There would be no more conflict today, and for that she was grateful. She really had no idea why she was so moody lately, but with any luck fortune would continue to favour their efforts and the irritation would not return again.
And, even as she stared at the golden orb or crystal and light, deep within her heart the seed of treachery that Mordred had planted within her continued its slow and unnoticed but inexorable growth.
-()-
Shirou had to admit that Asuka-san had outdone herself with this feast. He knew that she'd been putting lots of effort into getting all of the food ready just in time for it to be served to his guests as fresh and flavourful as possible, but he hadn't been expecting something quite as spectacular as this.
So much food, all of it steaming hot or freshly chilled as needed, on plates, in bowls, on platters or in fancy glass cups. Sweet, savoury, salty, spicy, cooked, fresh, hot and cold. So many options ready and waiting, and every single one of them utterly delicious.
Right now the eighth Campione was helping himself to a plate of perfectly cooked chicken fried rice along with thin strips of marinated sizzling beef. By his side Illya had elected to go for more western food and was chowing down on roasted potatoes and meat from a turkey crown that had been roasted in a variety of herbs and seasonings, all with lashings of rich dark gravy that had been served on a dish to the side. Sitting across the table from him was Guinevere who had apparently forgone the 'main course' and skipped straight to the dessert. Her plate had slices from all three of the cakes that Asuka had prepared, chocolate, strawberry and lemon respectively, as well as a large scoop of vanilla ice-cream.
The other Campiones had settled down to their own meals. Luo Hao had claimed a table and had told Godou to join her. The two of them were now speaking quietly while the young Kusanagi's harem and the Chinese King's student had set themselves up on the table next to the pair of God Slayers so they could listen in. John Pluto Smith was still by the table selecting his food, apparently taking pleasure in taking his time at the task.
Turning his attention back to the two seemingly young girls at his table Shirou had to repress a chuckle of amusement. Both of them were now sporting 'moustaches' on their faces due to their eager eating. Illya's was a rich brown where her taking large bites out of her turkey cuts had caused her to stain her upper lip with thick gravy. Guinevere was in much the same state, save that her own was composed of the thick white creamy frosting of the strawberry cake she'd been enthusiastically biting into.
The result was that far from looking like the Witch Queen and the formidable former Master of the Holy Grail War the pair looked like a pair of adorably cute kittens that had managed to get at the milk.
Shirou was about to say something when the American Campione sat himself down in the seat next to him and set down a plate of Indian rice and Chungudi Jhola prawns.
"Since her Eminence seems to be monopolising Godou's attention and would not welcome an interruption I thought I'd join you Emiya Shirou. I trust my presence isn't unwelcome?"
"Far from it, I fear my current companions have fallen to the power of Asuka-san's cooking for the time being."
"Ah, your cook?"
"My housekeeper actually. After I recruited her she also took over the kitchen and I haven't been able to use it since."
A note of the young Emiya's sorrow crept into his voice as he described his predicament.
"Oh? You enjoy cooking then?"
"It's soothing; also I really want to learn how to cook food this good."
To illustrate his point Shirou used his chopsticks to snag some meat and rice and bring them to his mouth. As he did so he noted the foods that were on the other Campione's plate, a number of small savoury pastries and several tiny sandwiches. He also had a glass of red wine in his other hand.
"Really? Please allow me to sample this food of which you speak so highly."
The eighth Campione watched with fascination as Smith picked up one of the pastries and brought it up to his mask. As the food bit reached the helmet the substance that made the mask up took on a sort of liquid quality. As he watched the pastry passed trough it as easily as a stone being lowered into water.
There was a brief pause as the American King presumably chewed the food bit, then his head slowly leaned to the side in a manner rather like a bird cocking its head.
"Delicious, truly splendid."
In short order the rest of the pastries and all of the little sandwiches disappeared into the helmet.
"King Shirou, truly you are blessed to possess a servant with such wonderful skills in cooking. I fear that if I found myself with such a subordinate I'd soon find myself falling prey to the desire to overeat."
"No you wouldn't, Asuka-san refuses to make more food than is healthy and always rotates her plans so that those she serves have a healthy and balanced diet."
There was a brief pause once more.
"Surely you're jesting."
"Oh no, I'm being completely serious. I may be a Supreme King that has claimed the power of gods, and I may be the man that holds her soul in my very hands, but as far as she's concerned the kitchen is her domain and if God himself stepped in there with her she'd expect him to follow her directions."
"A . . . formidable woman by the sounds of it." Smith agreed as he turned his head slightly in order to look at the housekeeper and the maids that were still standing dutifully by the pavilion. "And you were hoping to learn how to cook from her?"
For a moment Shirou was angry at himself for letting that bit of information slip out. It was out of character with the persona he'd presented before. Still, now it was out in the open so there wasn't much to be done about it except roll with it.
"Even Kings need hobbies, and it was cooking or bloody conquest. I decided to go with the less troublesome option. Or at least I thought I did; now I'm not so sure."
Smith nodded his head in agreement, then he leaned in close to the younger Campione and spoke in a hushed voice.
"While I applaud your impressive disregard of convention in inviting Lady Guinevere I fear that you may be underestimating how much of a threat she might potentially pose."
Shirou took a moment to compose his answer in his head. What Smith said was true, he knew a little of Divine Ancestors, but only what he'd been able to learn from his cursory research. That in itself wasn't very much, he knew that as a Campione his power was far greater than theirs, but he also knew that despite their weaker states Divine Ancestors were well known for being the enemies of God Slayers regardless.
"I shall endeavour not to underestimate her," he replied, his voice just as low, "However we've both aided each other and I believe that to be a basis for at least regard if not trust."
Smith leaned back and seemed to scrutinize the red haired teen with those insect like lenses on his mask. Then an audible chuckle could be heard coming from behind the helm.
"Very well, it is after all the privilege of a King to walk whichever path he chooses, even if that path might be called foolish or fraught by others."
The eighth Campione said nothing, merely inclined his head in acknowledgement of his fellow King's words.
"Perhaps it would be true that Guinevere would be dangerous to sir Shirou in other times, but for now I remain heavily in his majesty's debt, so he need worry about nothing from me."
The Witch Queen's voice sounded from across the table and caused both the Devil Kings to turn to face her. Guinevere had laid down her plate and was now sitting in her chair as though it were a throne in a castle. Her posture spoke of dignity and resolve as well as of sincerity and earnestness. Her face betrayed a hint of shyness at suddenly being the centre of attention, but it was clear she was overcoming her nervousness with commendable bravery. All in all she gave the impression of a foreign queen attending the banquet of a monarch of whose intentions she was unsure, but one such queen with steel in her spine.
The image was rather ruined though by the fact that she still hadn't realized that she still had a cream frosting moustache on her upper lip. With that she looked less like a queen and more like an adorable child princess trying hard to imitate her mother.
Totally oblivious to how the image that she was trying to project was being sadly warped the former goddess continued her explanation.
"Sir Shirou not only saved my life from the traitor knight Mordred, he also defeated one of the greatest enemies of me and my master. For tonight I am his guest and will not behave in any way that would shame him for the hospitality that he has extended to me. Though we may find ourselves at odds in the future I would never dishonour the debt between us by using underhanded methods against him. This is the very least that Guinevere can do."
So saying the beloved child of sir Lancelot sat back in her chair with all the solemnity she possessed.
In the meantime Shirou was doing his absolute best not to let his amusement show on his face. He appreciated what the Witch Queen was saying and he was genuinely grateful, it was just that it was nearly impossible to take her seriously when she had that coating of frosting on her upper lip.
Drawing on all the self control he could muster he nodded his head to her in acknowledgement.
"My thanks Lady Guinevere, it is gratifying that for tonight at least I need not consider you a foe, I merely hope that that will remain the case. Errr . . . incidentally I fear you have something . . ." he brushed his finger over his upper lip, indicating where the frosting was clinging to her.
Guinevere touched her lip in puzzlement, then snatched up a napkin off the table and frantically cleaned her face as she realized what had been there the entire time she'd delivered her assurances. By her side Illya giggled in amusement, only to break off into innocent silence as soon as the Witch Queen glared over at her.
"Illya . . . you too you know."
His adopted sister's face suddenly lost the look of smug enjoyment as she reached up to touch her own face. When her fingers came away stained gravy brown she grabbed her own napkin and set about cleaning her own face. A tinkling giggle came from her blonde neighbour, but when the snow haired girl glanced sharply at her Guinevere was innocently eating the last slice of cake on her plate with innocent grace.
"Truly you can arrange a splendid Feast King Shirou," Smith commented as he downed another gulp of his red wine. "Food that could make an emperor salivate; wine to make an angel weep and entertainment that I never in my most fevered dreams thought to see. A fine evening indeed, and it's only just begun."
Shirou directed a smile at the older Campione, but found that it was slightly forced.
"I just hope things continue to go as well as they have so far."
-()-
"Little Brother, while I appreciate that you have fine taste in choosing your subordinates do you not believe that it was somewhat immodest to bring them all to this Feast?"
Kusanagi Godou hadn't really known what to expect when the Ruler of the Martial Realm had directed him to sit on the chair across the table from her and then to scare off all his companions with a sharp look before they could join him. He supposed he should have been prepared, his newly adopted sibling was nothing if not predictable in some ways at least. Her care for her ego and image was as reliable as the rise and fall of the sun it would seem, and she was carrying that over to her sworn brother it would seem.
"Immodest?"
"Indeed. In the past your subjects have been able to impress me with their abilities and talent. You have two Great Knights in your service, each of whom is of comparable skill to my young eagle, as well as three of the Miko that hold the title of 'Hime' in this land, all of whom possess talents that I deem noteworthy. You should be proud to be able to gather such exceptional followers to your banner so soon after becoming a King.
"I also acknowledge that it is natural for a young man to exercise his new powers to . . . indulge himself with those subjects that are . . . smitten with their new King. Such is behaviour that might be expected of a young tyrant and is a privilege that we Supreme Ruler are entitled to."
At this point Godou felt rather like weeping. He knew that he was developing a reputation as a King that drowned himself in hedonistic debauchery, but having his newly sworn older sister saying that such behaviour was completely expected of him . . . Well, that was a bit too much. There were honestly days when he wondered just why he bothered to get out of bed in the morning.
"However to bring your lovers to a meeting of your fellow Kings in such a careless manner is shameful conduct for a sworn brother of this Luo Cuilian. Tonight is a contest of our paths of Rulership, to so flagrantly bring all of your servants with you is a rather careless and immodest demonstration of the followers you've gathered."
Godou blinked at that. She wasn't annoyed that he'd brought the girls because she disapproved of them, rather she was annoyed that he'd brought them all with him while she'd only brought her student and Smith had come alone? Well . . . perhaps he could see the logic, strange though it may be, in that. Of course that meant if he didn't do something to convince her otherwise the Chinese Campione might well take it upon herself to dismiss his friends from the feast. And he knew that most if not all of them really wanted to be here, so . . .
"But Nee-san . . . they're here as . . . part of my Rulership."
Time to talk fast again. Still, it looked like he'd managed to hit at least near the target because rather than immediately dismissing him. Now all he had to do was follow through . . .
Now how could he do that?
"Oh, what do you mean by that my little brother?"
"I-I mean . . . that . . . that it's like . . ." he cast about frantically for inspiration, then his eyes saw the blonde girl that had been introduced as Guinevere. Guinevere who was the wife of King Arthur. King Arthur who was famous for the Knight of the Round Table. That was it!
"Like King Arthur."
"How?"
"I . . . I'm one of the most inexperienced of the Kings. I mean I had no idea of what was going on in the world before I first ran into Erica and saw my first god. I was just an average student on holiday. I mean you were a great martial artist before you became a Campione, Salvatore was absurdly gifted with a sword and Shirou already knew magic. Even after I gained my Authorities there was still much I didn't know and areas in which I lacked.
"That's why I'm fortunate to have gathered such companions; they make up for what I lack. After all if the King lacks in a certain area then isn't it the wisest course for him to gain allies that make up for that lack? Arthur surrounded himself with knights of wisdom and strength, so I've done the same."
Well that wasn't quite true, but it certainly was close enough to the truth as to make very little difference. His friends did make up for his weaknesses, that was certainly true. It was also true that it had been more blind luck than anything else that had allowed him to gain their friendship and aid. It certainly hadn't been any master plan of his or any desire to become a King.
Still, Luo Hao didn't have to know that.
"Ah, so that is why you brought them. They are your strength until you learn to cover the weaknesses that you have. Well if that is the case then as accessories to your own Rule they are entitled to accompany you to this most grand night. Once again you surprise me with the clarity of your vision little brother, your older sister approves of your forethought."
With a nod of approval the Ruler of the Martial Realm stood up and picked up her now empty plate. The seventh Campione blinked at that, when she'd sat down her plate had been holding an array of foods from spring rolls of both Chinese and European recipe as well as a small pile of spaghetti with a delicate sprinkling of cheese. Now it was all gone and her plate only had a few small smudges on it to show that it had ever even held any food.
When had she eaten all that? She'd been speaking to him most of the time so when . . . Truly the skills of his sworn sister were formidable indeed.
"You should enjoy the cuisine that our host has so hospitably prepared for us; truly I had not expected him to have access to so talented a cook. I must remember to ask if I may send some of my servants to train under his own."
Godou glanced down at his own plate and realized that despite having sat down a bit ago he had yet to try any of the various foods he'd picked up. There was an eclectic combination of cuts of roast beef, pizza slices, sushi rolls, Indian rice and a small heap of what he'd been assured was caviar. Now that he looked at it he wasn't really sure why he'd taken those in particular, he'd been dazzled by the sight and smell of so much delicious seeming food and had simply grabbed what had caught his attention. Oh well, might as well give it a taste.
That was how the seventh Campione was introduced to the wonders of Suzuki Asuka's cooking.
It became a sort of moral dilemma for him after a bit, should he leave the forkful of delectable food in his mouth for longer in order to savour it more or should he swallow it quickly so as to be able to get to the next mouthful that much sooner. He was still working on trying to resolve this perplexing conundrum when Erica sat down next to him.
"I'll say this for Shirou-sama; he certainly knows how to prepare a Feast worthy of his guests."
As she spoke she was dabbing at her mouth with a napkin to clear away any smudges of food that might have been left there. Looking over her shoulder Godou saw that the rest of the girls that had come with him were apparently paralysed by the deliciousness of the food they had served themselves. Liliana seemed to be in a semi dazed state as she almost mechanically ate some sort of fish dish that he didn't recognize. Yuri and Hikari had oddly matching expressions of dreamy bliss on their faces as they slowly consumed the cake they had served themselves. Ena on the other hand seemed to have a plate heaped high with an almost worrying amount of various meat dishes that she seemed quite intent on working her way through.
"Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves." He observed after reluctantly but happily swallowing his mouthful.
"True, but you mustn't let yourself grow complacent Godou," Erica's lips curled in that smile of hers, the one that was both radiant and slightly intimidating at the same time. It was a smile that said that she knew something that others didn't, and she was going to use that knowledge to the goal that she chose. "This is merely the prologue; the real meat of this story will come once you and the other Kings enter into your competition."
Her chosen Lord looked at her with a slightly bemused expression on his face.
"Erica, you do realize that I have NO idea of just how I'm going to defend my Kingship against them? I don't even havea Kingship to defend; I'm not really a King."
"Nonsense," The Diavollo Rosso of the Copper-Black Cross replied immediately, "Godou you are a King, even if you haven't carved out a kingdom or imposed your rule upon others you are a King. Didn't you use your Authority as a Supreme Ruler when you told Sayanomiya Kaoru that you would vanquish the Monkey King only after you saved Hikari? Have you not accepted the allegiance of all of us that follow you?
"Your Rule might be small, but I can tell you Godou that it is not weak. You've faced three other Campione in battle and you've never lost once. You've faced gods that are regarded as strong even by their fellows and in the end it has been you that walked away victorious. You are a King, and you're the King that I honestly believe will one day rule over all, even your fellow Kings."
It was a strange feeling to know that there was someone that had such an absolute level of belief in him. It was simultaneously heartening and terrifying, both a crushing weight and a precious gift. It was at times like this that he honestly wondered what he could have done to have earned the affection of a girl as strong, talented and beautiful as the blonde beside him.
"Don't worry too much about it Godou. Think of it not as defending your Rule, but more as you defending your way of life. Just tell them why you live the way you do and why you act the way you do. That should be enough I think."
Okay, that didn't sound so bad, that he could do. The black haired teen felt some of his tension drain out of him as the first of the girls to come to his side managed to address one of his chief worries. If that was all that was needed to take part in this Contest of Kings then he should be able to manage it.
"Now, let's see about getting some more food, there are still quite a few dishes I haven't tried."
As Erica got up Godou noticed that somehow he'd managed to clean off all the food on his plate without even noticing it. For a moment he found himself feeling oddly cheated. Then he remembered that as Erica said there was still lots of food left to try.
Also he found himself beginning to feel a bit on the thirsty side.
-()-
Yusuke watched as the various guests served themselves from the huge buffet that Asuka had prepared. He watched as their faces glazed over in rapturous joy as the flavour of her works hit them. And he watched as they got thirsty.
There was a distinct kind of anguish to watching someone else open one of the bottles of wine that he'd so painstakingly chosen and purchased. To watch them pour out the sweet drink and then gulp it back. He remembered reading once about a poet that managed to severely offend a King, as punishment the poet was chained to a wall and forced to watch as page by page all his works, the works of years that had no copies, were torn from his tomes and cast into a fire. The resurrected accountant wondered if that was a similar sensation to that which he was experiencing.
"You there!" the sudden address brought Yusuke out of his brooding and back to the present. He looked up and found himself being addressed by the female Campione that had followed Shirou-sama. Now that he was closer to her he was struck by just how beautiful she was, so much so that even though he considered himself past being moved by a pretty face he couldn't help but stand a little straighter.
"Servant of King Shirou, inform me as to the best drink you have available." Then she glanced at him, and the look she directed his way reminded him very pointedly that this wasn't just some pretty young thing, this was one of the peers of the King that had called his soul back from the afterlife. "Under normal circumstances I would see you severely punished for daring to lay eyes upon my appearance. However on this occasion I shall show leniency since you are the vassal of my fellow King and the host of this Feast. Now attend me, which of these bottles holds the finest wine. Is it this one?"
Reaching out she grabbed one bottle out of the chilling bucket in which it rested and waved it at him in a manner that had Yusuke restraining himself from snatching it from her hand.
"Ah, that is a bottle of 1912 Larmes de récolte Abondante, an extremely fine vintage by some of France's most talented wine makers. To my Knowledge only fifteen bottles were ever made."
The Chinese Devil King glanced at the bottle for a second before replacing it and grabbing another one at random.
"And this one?"
Yusuke had to bite back a slightly strangled scream as he saw her casually waving an old green glass bottle with a faded label.
"Th-That's a bottle of Shipwrecked 1907 Heidsieck Champagne, arguably the single most costly example of that beverage in the world. Those bottles were lost in a shipwreck at the start of the twentieth century and remained at the bottom of the sea for nine decades until they were discovered. The long time beneath the waves has lent them a mystique that makes them very sought after."
She considered it for a moment, then dumped it back into the ice bin with a dismissive attitude that made the resurrected soul's knees shake slightly.
She moved to pick out another bottle, this one smaller than the others and with blue glass.
"That would be Fuego Azul Tequila, possibly one of the most potent drinks produced on the American continents. I would not recommend that for casual drinking your Highness, I don't know how the constitution of a King can handle strong drink but the bottle you are holding is said to be quite sufficient to leave an elephant unconscious. It is a spirit best taken in moderation."
"Then tell me, which of these bottles would you say would be the wine best suited for a King."
For a moment Yusuke considered lying. The answer to that question immediately leapt to his mind, but that was the one bottle that he most wanted for his collection, the one he'd prayed none would touch. If his beloved compilation of wines could gain that . . . oh it would be the crowning jewel to his trove of drinks.
However it was only a momentary temptation, and one that was immediately shaken off. He was a loyal servant to his King, and his liege had ordered him to serve his guest as would Shirou-sama himself. And the thought of deceiving or cheating the man that had returned him to the mortal world never even crossed his mind.
Reaching into the array of cooling buckets he selected one long but slim bottle and held it before him as though presenting a sword.
"This one your highness, if there is anything here that is suitable for a King then it is this, the 1944 Goût de la liberté."
"Oh, a bold claim to make. What is it that makes this wine such a prize in your eyes that you would proclaim it suitable for one of the Supreme Rulers?"
The Campione's voice now sounded more amused than anything else, mildly interested in the antics of some beetle that had scurried across her path. Well if she wanted to know.
"During the Second World War seven owners of respected vineyards were involved in supporting the French resistance to the Nazi invasion. By the time the invaders were finally driven out only four of the original seven remained. To celebrate the reclamation of their country and to honour the memories of their fallen friends they worked together using all their family secrets to produce a batch of twenty four wine bottles that have been regarded as being without equal. Since the day they were sealed only eight of those bottles have been opened and only at the most prestigious events hosted by emperors and kings. If you are looking to try what could be the best wine in the world then you need look no further than this."
The beautiful woman gazed at the bottle for a moment, then picked up a crystal wine glass in one hand and took the bottle from his grasp with the other. With one perfect fingernail she flicked the cork out of the neck and poured the ruby red wine into the glass.
Yusuke had to bite back a moan of despair as he saw what could have been the crowning jewel of his collection spill forth. Oh well, no point in moaning about it now, he could only hope that this God Slayer agreed that this drink's flavour was the equal of its reputation. With almost baited breath he watched as she raised the wine to her lips and took a sip.
Her head cocked to the side as she swirled the wine around in her mouth savouring the flavour, then she swallowed. The Chinese King stood there for a moment, her gaze turned inwards as she pondered something, then she drank the rest of the glass's contents in a single long draught. The resurrected accountant was barely able to keep a whimper of anguish in as he saw her gulp the drink down.
"Servant, see to it that the rest of this bottle is served to myself and my fellow Kings when we begin our contest. Such a fine vintage is truly a fitting drink to be had by us. I commend your skills in selected such a fine wine upon which we could sup; truly the Kings of Wakoku both have fine eyes for finding talented followers. Now thank me well for my praise."
Yusuke blinked, then blinked again. She was actually ordering him to thank her for her praise? It would have been laughable except for two things, her completely serious voice and her equally serious face; this was a woman that genuinely meant what she said.
"My sincerest thanks for the kind praise that you have deigned to grant my most humble self." He declared as he bowed deeply to her. To others such words might have seemed over elaborate to the point of being mocking or foolish, but to this King she simply nodded in satisfaction, as though he had performed completely expected courtesies, and turned away.
As she stode off and was met by the young man who had accompanied her earlier Yusuke found himself thinking that he truly had been fortunate to be a Japanese citizen. After all by the looks of things it seemed that his was the only nation to produce semi-sane Kings. Well, that was the impression he was getting from seeing the guest Campione anyway. After all one of them appeared to be a woman with an ego that could only be described as titanic and the other was a man who dressed up as a superhero in order to battle gods and evil organizations.
Yep, it definitely looked like Japan was monopolizing the sane God Slayers.
-()-
Illyasviel Von Einzbern considered herself to be a rational and intelligent young lady. Consequently she was rather ashamed of her loss of control when faced with the huge buffet of Asuka-san's cooking.
Her original plan had been to learn a bit more about this Guinevere girl that was obviously interested in her beloved onii-chan. Oh she might try to hide it, but thanks to her recent education in the subtle arts of romance (courtesy of hours spent watching anime, romantic dramas and a few soap operas) the snow haired girl was able to notice the signs. The way she kept glancing at Shirou out of the corner of her eye, the way she mildly blushed whenever he smiled at her, the way she fidgeted slightly whenever they were talking, unconsciously smoothing her dress or absently playing with her hair.
Illya was on to her; clearly she was interested in Shirou and had come to this Feast in order to get closer to him. Well it was her duty as her onii-chan's closest ally to protect him from the devious intentions of this obviously sneaky girl. After all Shirou couldn't afford any romantic entanglements since Sakura was waiting for him back in their home reality. Sure the snow haired girl might not be entirely approving of the last Matou, but she had acknowledged her as her adopted brother's lover.
The thought that this also meant that there wouldn't be any females closer to him in this reality than his adopted sister was a notion that Illya's subconscious was ruthlessly suppressing.
Well regardless of that all her good and noble plans had lasted right up until she'd caught sight of the Feast; at that point her stomach had succeeded in wresting temporary control of the body away from both her head and her heart. It hadn't been until a little bit ago that Illya had come back to herself to find her belly pleasantly full and her mind equally filled with memories of delicious food.
It was enough to make her want to bang her head on the table. Why did Asuka's food have to be so GOOD? Alright, granted that she didn't really want it to be bad, not when she could enjoy such culinary brilliance on a regular basis. But still . . . couldn't she show at least a little self control?
Her only consolation was that it appeared that the target of her animosity hadn't fared any better than she had in the face of the cooking of the Emiya manor's housekeeper, not if the pile of plates in front of her and the frosting on her face was anything to go by.
Illya took advantage of the moment of relative calm following both her and Guinevere's cleaning of their faces to take stock of what her senses were telling her about the golden haired girl sitting only a few feet away from her.
One thing she knew immediately was that she was strong, perhaps not on the same level as the Campione that had gathered here, but none the less the impression that the young Einzbern was getting was that this Guinevere would not have been out of place as a Caster in the Holy Grail War. Quite simply her power felt beyond anything that could be regarded as human.
And it wasn't just the vague impression of her enormous reserves that made Illya tense ever so slightly, there was more. About her there was an aura that spoke not merely of power, but of association with power. The eighth Campione's adopted sister would have been willing to bet her eye-teeth that this Guinevere not only had powerful allies but also spent a considerable amount of time in the presence of an object of enormous power.
She'd seen similar effects in the past back in her home reality. Mages that spent a lot of time carrying around a powerful Mystic Code tended to have a 'tell' in their auras that she could pick up on. The talent was of no real use since none of the Masters that she'd faced other than Rin had used any sort of Codes, and even then she hadn't been able to tell what kind of Code it was or even if she had it on her, only that she'd had it on her for a long time in the past.
Right now though it did confirm that this Divine Ancestor was in regular contact with an artefact of power, and that was something important to know.
Another look at the seeming girl beside her caused Illya to frown ever so slightly. All her power aside there was the fact that Guinevere was unquestionably beautiful despite her apparent young age, so much so that the young Einzbern felt a little envious. She knew that she was pretty for her age, and she was sure that she'd grow into a beautiful woman like her dear Mama, but even so . . .
No, she mustn't let jealousy creep into her heart, sure she was beautiful, but she wasn't flawless. Just look at her forehead, it was so big. That might be a bit of a petty thought but it did make her feel a bit better. Besides, she thought absently, Shirou likes girls with big boobs, not lolis.
There was a brief pause as the daughter of the Magus Killer reviewed her last thought.
Why had she thought that? Alright granted that Sakura was the most gifted girl in that area that she knew of . . . well, except for Rider of course. But given that the Servant of the Charger was an example of unearthly beauty perhaps that comparison wasn't quite fair. Illya frowned as a thought struck her, had onii-chan been spending a surprising amount of time with Sakura's Servant in the days leading up to the whole mess with Angra Mainyu? Could it be that he really did find busty girls to be the most attractive?
She shook her head as she tried to dismiss the thought. This was absurd; she should be trying to focus on learning more about this potential danger, not considering how attracted to busty girls her adopted brother was.
Looking up she noted that her brother had finished his plate and had returned to the buffet for another helping. John Pluto Smith was beside him and the two were talking as they walked. They made for a rather unusual looking pair, but given the nature of this small festivity that was pretty much par of the course.
"You are fortunate to have so valiant a young man for a sibling, why then do you not share the same name?"
Guinevere's voice broke into her thoughts and brought Illya's attention back to the Divine Ancestor. For a moment she considered how to answer, then decided to go with the same story that she and Shirou had been using about the school, the one that was pretty close to the truth.
"Onii-chan is adopted, my father became his guardian after circumstances and family politics ended up separating us."
"Your father had a fine eye for talent or considerable good fortune to have become the new father to sir Shirou. I trust he is suitably proud of his son's achievements. Very few can claim parentage to a King."
For a moment the former vessel for the Grail wondered just how her father would have taken Shirou gaining such power and influence as he now possessed. Would he have been proud? Would he have been afraid? Would he have looked upon all that power and thought that it would inevitably lead to Shirou's corruption and transformation into a tyrant? Would he have killed him in order to nip such potential at the bud?
In the years after he had supposedly abandoned her the Einzbern family had forced her to study her father's history so as to destroy the image she had had of her kind and gentle papa and sever the ties between them. Illya was well aware of the kind of monster her father had been, of the lengths to which he had gone in order to save lives. She knew that and couldn't help but wonder what he would have done.
"Our father died years ago, he never lived to see Shirou learn his strengths, let alone see him become a Campione."
Guinevere simply frowned slightly and nodded.
Looking at the shadows cast over the Divine Ancestor's face Illya realized just how dark it had become. The sun had finished setting some time ago and the site of the Feast was being illuminated by a large number of electric lights that ensured that it remained as bright as day. Despite the late summer heat a Bounded Field that she'd set up earlier in the morning ensured that no flies, mosquitoes or other such pests were being drawn by the light, food or body heat of the participants. Above she could see the stars multiplying in the night sky as they emerged from the day's sky. It looked like it would be a beautiful night.
"Well now," Shirou's voice sounded out loudly enough for all to hear, "I think that we have all eaten our fill for the time being. I think that it is now time to move on to the main event of the evening, but first . . . let's have a slight change in the ambiance. Kaida, Manaka, if you would be so kind . . ."
At his words the two maids nodded, drew out a pair of long wooden torches and lit the heads on fire. They moved around the outside of the patio, stopping at each of the wooden poles that lined it to light the large torches at the heads of the poles. Those heads were made of tightly packed bundles of chemically treated wood and fuel; they would burn long and brightly, and would provide the appropriate atmosphere.
As the torches were lit the electrical lights were turned off until only a fifth of the original remained on. The patio remained brightly lit, but now the light and the shadows danced and flickered in eerie accompaniment to the movements of the flames.
The mood among the guests had also changed as the lighting had been altered. Before there had been a friendly cheerfulness, a certain energy and light heartedness as though this was a party that they were all attending. Now there was a certain tension to the atmosphere, nothing hostile or malicious, nothing unpleasant. It was as though the festiveness had left and now there was a certain unresolved competitiveness beginning to raise its head. Between this new air and the use of fire to illuminate the Feast things seemed to be a bit more . . . primal. No, maybe a better word would be primitive?
Illya wasn't too sure; all she knew was that this didn't feel like it was taking place in the middle of modern day Tokyo. This felt like Kings meeting one night in the middle of a potential battle field, their armies waiting, one at each point of the compass, for the signal to be given, for war to be called. There was no hostility, but there was the overwhelming sensation of the huge power that the four Kings present possessed.
"A fine setting indeed for this," commented Smith as he seemed to emerge from the shadows to her adopted brother's right. In the dancing torchlight his cape seemed to possess a life of its own, moving and fluttering with the flames in a breeze only it could feel. "So it is now time for the Contest of Kingships that you proposed?"
The other two Campione also drew closer, perhaps unconsciously standing shoulder by shoulder in a line that faced the ring table that Shirou had prepared for the contest.
"So then, the true core of our meeting shall begin now." commented Luo Hao as she idly tapped her fan against her elbow.
At Illya's side Guinevere stood up, brushed her face with her napkin and walked over to stand to the side and a little behind the God Slayers. Her actions were clear and easy to interpret; she was making sure that she was a part of the gathered competitors, but at the same time making it clear that she wasn't implying she was their equal.
The Kings moved forwards to take their seats.
-()-
Urban legends all have a root, a point of beginning that could be found if one knew where to look and was resourceful enough. Tales of supposedly titanic bloodbaths could be traced back to having begun as simply as single murder/suicide. Mad scientists were really only unlicensed doctors operating illegally. From humble seeds flowered the terrifying and the spectacular, a tale that grew in horror and splendour with each retelling.
However sometimes, very rarely, the seed that began it all wasn't of humble origins but instead beggared the story that would in time follow. Such legends could be traced back to the rare times that a mage stepped too far out of line.
However now there was a new legend being born, one already whispered of in the criminal underworld as thieves and lowlifes passed it on again and again by word of mouth. Some told it in order to pass the fear onto others and so alleviate some of their own, others passed it on with a derisive note in their tone since they did not themselves believe it and others spoke of it with desperation and horror as they tried to warn those to whom the spoke. All of them had a name for the tale they told though, one that some unknown soul had thought up and that had stuck.
The Night of the Hungry Shadows.
It had only been the day before, but already it had passed into a sort of modern myth. Throughout Tokyo it was as though some unknown force had decided that they would go hunting among the criminal refuse that infested the city. There had been no one area or ward where it had happened, nobody had really seen or heard anything conclusive; there had been no large movements of people or dramatic explosions. It had all been so quiet.
And that was part of what had made it so terrifying.
Nobody had known when it had started, when the first victim had been taken, but by the end of the night everyone knew that something was happening. The numbers that had disappeared weren't huge, barely over a hundred, but it was who had been taken that was strangest. The most notorious thief, the most connected fences, those people that everyone knew but didn't like. Those who weren't outstanding in any way and yet still seemed to be everywhere and know everyone.
What made it the most horrible was that nobody seemed to know what had happened to them, they had just disappeared, one minute they been in a crowded room with someone looking at them, then the watcher would look away and when they looked back there'd be no-one there. Some people said that they'd seen shadows that moved on their own, others had claimed to have heard shrieks of fear that were suddenly cut off.
In the end there would be an investigation by the authorities after it was confirmed that a large number of less than honest citizens had suddenly disappeared all on the same night, but the investigation would yield no results. There would be theories about vigilante groups and criminal organizations, but in the end these were just random speculations from which nothing came.
The truth was far stranger than any of those who tried to puzzle it out could ever have imagined, that it wasn't the work of any organization of criminal or vigilantes, that it was all due to the creation of a single mad mage and the monstrosity that he had created.
-()-
The mage stood in the park and watched as the shadows moved around him.
He knew they were there, all about him even though he could not see them with his mundane senses. He could feel them in his mind, through the link that he'd made between him and his creation; he could feel the smooth coldness of their thoughts.
Oh that was a pleasure, to feel the movements of their mind against his. It was so much better than the earlier experiments that he'd conducted with his first tentative steps into the world of life creation. Those thoughts had been hot, clinging and rough. He'd hated them, hated the way they'd stuck to his own mind and not let go, not until he'd disposed of the physical host form at least.
But this time it was perfect. It was as though the mind of his dear thief was constructed entirely of glass, glass as hard as diamond, as dry as a desert and as cold as a glacier. Everything slid and turned and locked with beautiful mechanical precision and timing. And it didn't press in on his own thought either, rather it stayed beside his own mind, a constant presence but not a pressure.
Marvellous.
There were so many of his lovely thieves now, more than a hundred, and yet there was no sign of weakness or instability in the glass mind that he could see. Each time another piece of trash was recycled and used it was as though a new part of the massive glass engine was seamlessly slotted into place alongside the rest. Theoretically if that remained the case then it meant that his thieves could continue to multiply indefinitely. The more there were then the larger the glass mind would become, and the larger the glass mind became then the more there were that could be added to it. A self perpetuating cycle.
"Good, good my little thieves. There're so many of you now, so many many many. Many is better than few, few is too few, few isn't enough. We need many, but not too many. Too many means that we can't fade, can't dodge, can't hide. You have to hide when you need to, if you don't then they come for you, come with their wolves and their lightning and their thunder. Their loud loud thunder. Thunder that's too loud, so loud it drowns out the screams, drowns out the last words, drowns it all. All all all, all things that you want and want to keep safe, all taken, all burnt, all gone.
"Have to be smart if we don't want to be burnt. Have to be unexpected. A surprise is a surprise is a surprise when they don't see it coming. Have to be a surprise guest."
As he rambled he turned to face the direction in which he knew the manor of the eighth Campione was. In the shadows moved dozens of forms, every one of them similar in appearance, but varying in height, weight and build. The black substance that the insane mage had created had consumed those it fell upon and reworked them into the pattern that it knew taking their memories and talents into itself and using their bodies as fuel and material for the transformation.
"They think they have no equal, that they can just thunder about as they wish," the madman continued to mutter to himself as his eyes remained fixed on the direction of the Devil King's home, "That they can take what they want, take your findings, take your wife, take your hope, take your life, take take take take, always take. Well, let's take from them, take what they won't notice, take it and hide it and use it. Wait in the dark, wait in the shadows, grow big and strong while they're not looking, not preparing.
"Then make them see, show them, hurt them, hurt hurt hurt hurt, all the pain, all the sorrow, all for them."
His words devolved into an incoherent rambling that mutated into kind of giggling laughter.
In the shadows his creations did not react nor did they care, they simply waited for orders and listened to the sound of a genius's madness.
-()-
As the sun set and the dark of night fell across Tokyo the Contest of Kingship began and the shadows converged upon the site of the Feast.
