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.

Wow, I was not expecting my last chapter to be so well received, but in the end I got quite a few reviews for this chapter, so many that it's now tied for the spot of the second most popular chapter I've written yet.

On a side note I think that with this chapter this story will be the second most popular Fate/Stay Night crossover fic on the , at least as far as reviews go, having just edged out Hill of Swords. Of course I'm not saying that my work is superior to Gabriel Blessing's, but I must say that I'm really flattered that so many people took the time to write to me, I honestly wasn't expecting my first fanfic to be so well received.

Of course a part of that has been people using my reviews section as a sort of substitute forum. I fully acknowledge that all my readers have the right to review, so long as they observe common courtesy and civility, and I will welcome all constructive criticism. However I think posting messages to one another about your disagreements is perhaps going slightly too far. Anyone that would like to discuss my fics in that manner can go to Court of the Devil Kings forum, to which there is a link at my profile. Feng Lengshun, who set it up, says that it will be quite alright for people to discuss, debate and disagree there.

Something a lot of people have enquired about is whether or not Shirou will gain anything from eating the dragon. Well, the answer is no. Compared to a Campione the 'weight' of the dragon's existence is simply too little. While eating its heart or bathing in its blood might have granted some form of enhancement to a normal human simply being a Campione has already enhanced Shirou's body to the point where the power of so weak a dragon simply can't do anything else.

Now if he cooks and serves the tail that he's got to someone else then there will be some effect, but nothing momentous or permanent, probably just a temporary strengthening of the eater's vitality.

SPOILERS.

I hope that Godou's misadventures with his own Sakura prove entertaining. That part of the chapter is a nod to Campione! Volume 8 which I thought to be one of the funniest in the series. Originally I had planned for the trio to run into Shirou and for his meeting with Sakura to be a bit on the painful side. However I didn't like how the scene went, it seemed too forced, so I hope that the replacement works a bit better.

Lots of people seemed to be keen on the idea of a stuffed dragon's head, so I decided to include it and thus Charlie was born. In case anyone is wondering as to why Watanabe has such a strong reaction to seeing her, there is a reason. Despite being stuffed and mounted the head is of divine origin and so retains a small part of its 'dragon fear' aura. For people with formidable Magic Resistance such as Shirou or Illya, due to her huge reserves, the effect is almost unnoticeable; however normal people and weaker spellcasters are not so lucky. And this is something Shirou is as yet unaware of.

This chapter also sees the reveal of the mystery god that the Divine Ancestors have been working to summon. I had lots of guesses as to who it was but oddly enough only two people got it right; you guys know who you are.

There's been a little more insight into the odd goings on with Arondight, but I have deliberately left out a conclusion because it's part of a future plotline. I just mention that so that nobody will be writing to me to ask what I really mean.

I am also well aware that Shirou and Illya's assumption of the activities of the Heretic God setting off Mini City Guide is wrong, don't worry, this fits into my plot plan.

The Omake at the end is simply a thought that occurred to me and completely ignores a number of reasons that it should be impossible. It was written as a result of me rewatching the Fate/Zero anime and being struck by just how poor a Master Kayneth was as well as a desire to let Shirou and Illya have a good nights sleep. I mean the Lancer of that war was almost a perfect \servant in that his loyalty to his Master was pretty much total. But Kayneth utterly squandered it and all the advantages it gave him, so it got me thinking about what kind of a Servant he DESERVED instead.

That's when I thought about one of the only characters I know that has an even bigger ego than Gilgamesh and I thought; what kind of a Servant would Lou Hao make?

Actually when I think about it if the Archibald heir shows some brains and accepts his role as a subordinate to his Servant then he actually has a pretty good chance of making it through the War alive. I haven't really given any thought to how the Ruler of the Martial Realm would stand up to some of the contenders in the fourth War, but I think she has a good chance of making it to the last four, maybe.

Of course the main focus of this Omake is the simple fact that rather than getting a loyal Knight Kayneth had instead gotten a Servant that regards him as a rebellious and not too bright lackey, hahaha.

Incidentally if anyone would like to send me a design for Heretic God Apollo I would appreciate it. I have a basic frame set out for him, but I admit it needs a bit of fleshing out, so any suggestions would be a welcome source of inspiration.

Lastly I would like to that my Beta for the aid he's provided in not only making my work fit to be read but also for his aid in getting me over a sudden case of writer's block in record time. Without his help I think this chapter would have been delayed by at least a couple of days.


God Slaying Blade Works: Chapter Seventeen: The Gathering Storm

Kusanagi Godou wasn't having the easiest of days, in fact it wouldn't be too inaccurate to say that he was starting to wish that he'd just not bothered to get out of bed this morning.

It had begun well enough, but attending a full day of classes as usual things began to go downhill. It was now after school and he'd found himself alone after all the girls were apparently busy and hurried off in various directions. Godou, on the other hand, had been getting ready to go home when he had received a message on his cell phone.

The content of the message was as follows:

From: Koudzuki Sakura

Title: 'Godou-kun, help me!'

Body: Please! There's another thing I want you to help me with regarding that great Devil King from the other day. Could you assist me?

Koudzuki Sakura was his second cousin as well as a childhood friend. Despite her being three years older than him her cute looks and slightly childish demeanour led others to think her a middle school girl. About a month back he had found out that she had become involved with the magical world and was learning magic, though when he'd last seen her the extent of her power had been the ability to break matchsticks and toothpicks with her mind so long as she had a grimoire to help her.

The problem was that while his older cousin was sweet tempered and hard working her basic personality was a shy one that easily became lonely, when combined with her natural naivety his greatest concern since her arrival in Tokyo was that she'd end up as a recruit for some cult or scam. As it turned out though she'd become interested in magic after a new female friend of hers had begun to tell her about it.

In the end his childish cousin had told him about how an evil Devil King had appeared in Tokyo and was causing havoc by doing such things as collapsing highways, destroying Tokyo Tower and various other things. Aghast by the seemingly uncaring destruction, as well as having heard of the Devil King's insatiable lust for young girls from the old magical families, Sakura had taken it upon herself to do something about it.

Her plan, if such it could be called, was to track down the one responsible and then plead to him with all her might to stop doing terrible things.

As soon as he had heard her intentions Godou had considered how the Campione he knew would have reacted to that.

Dejanstahl Voban would ignore her without blinking as though she were nothing more than an ant in his path.

That idiot Salvatore Doni probably wouldn't even understand what Sakura wanted from him.

Luo Hao might simply chastise her severely for daring to speak to her or, if she knew that Sakura was his relation, would lecture her upon propriety and proper conduct.

John Pluto Smith, well, he'd probably just laugh and disappear in a suitably dramatic fashion.

Quite frankly the only King that she would have had any chance of having even a reasonable conversation with would have been Emiya Shirou, and even then he'd prefer not to see her too near his fellow Japanese King. Shirou might be the most reasonable Campione that he'd yet encountered, but that didn't change the fact that he was an . . . odd person.

After all what kind of normal person kills a dragon and then brings back its tail so he can cook and eat it?

Anyway he'd spent the day following his cousin around as she tried to find the very person that was accompanying her. Things had gone a bit strangely, but in the end, after Amakasu Touma and the Committee agent did some fast talking, Sakura had been convinced that she needed to 'level up' a fair bit more before she could meet with the object of her search.

He'd thought the matter more or less settled, at least for the time being at any rate.

He'd gone to meet up with his somewhat troublesome cousin and had found her in the company of a girl called Renjou Fuyuhime, who despite being the same age as Sakura looked like she was in her fifth or sixth year of elementary school. Apparently she also had something of a complex about her stature, because one of the first things that she'd said to him was to call him conceited for being taller than her or Sakura despite being younger.

Apparently this was the friend that had been teaching his naïve cousin magic and had, after much work and agonized debating, learnt the name of the fearsome Devil King that had wrecked much havoc upon Tokyo and had decided to go and visit him to give him a piece of her mind. Sakura had agreed to help her and had called in Godou as reinforcements.

So now here he was following after them as the pair of childish looking young women followed lead after lead in an attempt to track down the evil Campione Kusasagi Goroh.

To borrow an anime character's catch phrase; How troublesome.

Their first efforts had been to try and track down the 'disciple' of their target at a maid café in Akihabara that he was said to frequent. As it turned out Lu Yinghua was at the café that he'd set up as a business venture in Japan and had greeted his 'Honoured Uncle' quite cheerfully and provided him and his companions with a free delicious Chinese meal. However while Sakura had been most grateful for the sumptuous food Fuyuhime had been more confrontational and domineering and had demanded the location of her target.

As it turned out though the supposed heiress to the Renjou clan was rather susceptible to mental pressure and had ended up cowering when faced with a flash of Lu Yinghua's killing intent.

However after leaving the café Fuyuhime had quickly regained her steam and had set out in pursuit of her next lead, namely Nanao Shrine where there lived two sister miko that Kusasagi Goroh has made into his playthings.

At that point Godou had wanted to find a nice quiet spot where he could bang his head against a wall. It was as though the universe really was making fun of him, not to mention that he could feel a headache coming on.

In the end the meeting between the petite Renjou heir and the Mariya sisters had not gone too well for Fuyuhime. The two Hime-Miko had read the situation well enough to not reveal that he was in fact the very King that his companions were searching for and had then gone on to question the validity of her claim to being the Renjou heir. In the face of this Fuyuhime had again seemed to run out of steam and had left rather like a dog with its tail between its legs after Yuri had admonished her for her poor manners.

And that brought them to the current situation, and it was not one that he was very happy with at all.

Namely because he was standing in front of the manor of Emiya Shirou.

"So . . . what are we doing here?" He asked, although he was already starting to fear that he knew the answer.

"This is an address that I was only able to get after a lot of work and investigation," the short girl declared looking quite proud of herself, "Apparently there lives here a talented and mysterious witch that the Devil King treats as a sister, though no doubt he harbours unwholesome and lustful intentions for her as well. I shall demand the whereabouts of Kusasagi Goroh from her."

Okay, this was starting to get ridiculous. Clearly Fuyuhime had gotten her wires crossed somewhere along the line because she apparently thought that Illya-chan was one of his supposed harem and that he was keeping her here because she was like a sister. By the sounds of it she wasn't even aware that this was actually the home of a Campione.

How could this get any worse?

"Oh, hello Godou-san. What brings you here today and who are your companions?"

As he heard the light sound of the voice of Illyasviel Von Einzbern Godou wanted to shout at the world that that hadn't counted, he hadn't said it out loud so the universe shouldn't have called him on it.

"You know Godoh too?" Sakura asked, guilelessly using her pet name for him as she turned to face the white haired young girl who was just walking down the street with a shopping bag in each hand. "He really does have a lot of friends doesn't he? It's so nice to know that he hasn't fallen into unsociable ways."

Illya blinked a couple of times then nodded to his cousin.

"Well, Godou-san is more the brother of my friend Shizuka than a friend of mine; he's also a . . . work colleague of my onii-chan, though I do like to think that we've gotten along well when we've had to work together."

Great, just great. Here was the girl in question that was the target of Fuyuhime's current search just arriving at just the wrong time. Honestly, how could the supposed heir to the Renjou clan get all her information all wrong and yet still find the right person?

And there was also the fact that even if Godou was building up a harem Illya would not be in it for three very good reasons. Firstly he had the distinct impression that Shirou was definitely the overprotective big brother type and he really really didn't want to get on his bad side that way. Secondly he had the distinct impression that Illya-chan might have a little crush on her adopted older brother, of course that was just a private theory and one that he hadn't mentioned to anyone.

And thirdly was the fact that quite frankly the white haired young girl scared him a little.

It wasn't so much that he considered a threat to his life, as a Campione he was well aware that her own power was substantially weaker than his own, it was . . . weird. There was the fact that her own power was in many ways more overtly violent than most that he had encountered. Erica and Liliana's magic were clean, elegant even. Ena's was a bit wilder but at the same time something that was, well, human despite the fact that she was drawing on the power of a god.

But somehow Illya's was different. It wasn't anything too overt about her . . . well, apart from that black giant that she summoned up and controlled, there wasn't anything about that thing that couldn't be regarded as overt. Godou couldn't help but feel a tiny shudder run down his spine at the memory of that thing. He wasn't afraid of it, not really, he was absolutely sure that even with its clearly enormous strength it wasn't a match for his Authorities, of that he was certain. It was something else, the way that the huge black maned giant seemed to radiate death and violence. And there were its prior actions, the way in which it had torn into the Divine Beasts that it had faced during the crisis with the Monkey King. Godou had stood in the presence of gods far more powerful than that thing which were somehow less threatening.

Then of course there was Illya herself, for the most part the adopted sister of his fellow King was quite a well mannered and pleasant girl. The only fault that Godou could find in her day to day personality was that she was a tad on the spoiled side. However there was another personality that he'd caught flashes of hiding beneath that persona, and to be honest what he'd seen had been unnerving.

There was a ruthlessness there, a callous familiarity with violence and death that clashed almost utterly with the impression that he got when he'd first met her, so much so that it was . . . jarring. Liliana had once confided in him that she was sure that the snowy haired girl was one that would kill if she needed to and do so without hesitation. He hadn't been able to believe it then, not that he'd thought that his friend was lying to him, only that she was somehow mistaken, but now . . . now he could believe her.

And last, but by no means least, was the rather unsettling suspicion that despite her sometimes flighty attitude she was also a good deal smarter than he was.

And now Fuyuhime was advancing towards her with a determined look on her face.

"I've found you, the young genius witch who serves the devil king Kusasagi Goroh! I'm the heir to the Renjou clan and I demand that you obediently submit to my authority and tell me where the Campione lives!"

Again Godou found himself longing for the chance to find a nice quiet corner where he could calmly beat his head against a wall. It was as though the child-like friend of his cousin had a subconscious death wish or something.

However instead of summoning her huge black giant or pulling her naginata out of the air the young Einzbern instead simply tilted her head to the side in seemingly mild confusion.

"The . . . who clan?"

Fuyuhime simply stood there for a moment blinking in surprise, then her face flushed with indignation as she took another step towards the snowy haired girl.

"Why you-" the childish heir was now openly glaring at her target, "The Renjou are one of the four families that established the Committee and now lead it, we're not some minor clan that you can just ignore!"

The only way that he could think of to describe her tone would be 'meaninglessly self important'.

"Hmmm, the committee," Godou was now absolutely certain that his sister's friend was being deliberate in her forgetfulness, "Ah wait, I remember now. Aren't they the collection of minor mages that have been trying to get the Campione of Japan to accept their service?"

Her dismissive description of the clan in which Fuyuhime clearly took considerable pride in seemed only to further enflame the outrage of the older girl. However even as she opened her mouth to deliver what would no doubt be a blistering tirade Illya suddenly took a step forwards and aggressively invaded her personal space.

"And what's this about submitting to your authority? What if I'm not feeling very obedient today?"

Fuyuhime took a stumbling step backwards as she tried to open some room between them; her face was no longer outraged but rather had become apprehensive.

"I-I am the heir to the Ren-"

"Yes yes, you said that already, don't you have anything more original to say?"

There it was, Godou could see it in the curve of her lips as she smiled and the sharpness of her eyes as they narrowed, the dangerous edge she had that made him worry. He'd better step in before things went any further, not that he expected Illya to actually hurt the childish friend of his cousin. On the other hand he doubted that she had any problems using terror tactics on Fuyuhime in order to give her a serious scare.

"Ah, Illya-chan, just to be quite clear you're not the evil minion of Kusasagi Goroh are you?" He asked in a forced cheerful tone as he stepped up behind the supposed Renjou heir.

The look that Shirou's adopted sister turned on him was one that seemed to indicate that she was beginning to question both his intelligence and his sanity. In an effort to deflect at least some of the scorn he could see building in her gaze he flicked his eyes to Fuyuhime and then quite deliberately rolled them.

Illya's own eyes narrowed slightly in puzzlement, then widened in understanding. She then gave a tiny, almost imperceptible, nod of her head.

"I can honestly say I've never met or even heard of this Kusasagi Goroh that you speak of." She declared setting her bags down and crossing her arms. "Now is there anything else? I do have things to do."

"No, thank you that will be quite alright." With a quick bow and grin that he knew looked slightly foolish he placed a hand on Fuyuhime's shoulder and as gently but firmly as he could he pushed her away from the snowy haired young magus with a somewhat confused Sakura following after them.

It was a short time later that the trio stopped and a rather upset Fuyuhime took the time to compose herself.

"Fuyuhime-chan, if you ask the way you did earlier, anyone would get angry. You need to do it gently!"

"I-I know! B-But that girl earlier was just too rude!"

The group of Godou, Sakura and Fuyuhime were once more on the move and this time they were on the way to Aoyama.

"Could you tell me why we are going there?"

"Urgs. Since long ago there have been many magic practitioners near Aoyama Doori. I heard lately an evil witch, an associate and mistress of Kusasagi Goroh, has been hanging around there lately. *Sniffle* I will capture that woman and this time I will find that Devil King for sure!"

The seventh Campione really hoped that things would pick up a bit more, he really wasn't too sure of how much more of this his nerves could stand.


-()-


The first thing that struck Koizumi Watanabe when he entered the office was the teeth.

To be more specific the teeth in question, the long, white and apparently very sharp teeth the size of his fingers at the very least, that were in the huge draconic head that was mounted on the wall above the desk in such a way that it seemed to be snarling at whoever came through the door.

"Ah, you must be the representative of the Committee that I've been expecting. Please have a seat."

Watanabe heard the words, but it was as though they were failing to find any connection in his mind, mainly because the majority of his brain power was being taken up by great big teeth.

When he'd been a young boy the Committee agent had been interested in dinosaurs, which was perfectly normal, after all what child at some point wasn't fascinated by the ancient extinct reptile giants? However Watanabe had perhaps taken his own interest in them a bit further than most.

Like most young boys he'd had his favourite dinosaur, the Tyrannosaurus Rex. He'd had toys and picture books and so on, but after a while he'd become curious as to how big the real thing would have been. Due to living out in the more rural and traditional areas of Japan he'd never had the chance to see some of the life sized models and displays that had been available in some cities as tourist attractions. So he'd set about making his own life sized recreation of a T-Rex's head.

It had taken him days of work using the large amounts of plaster, wood and paper mache that he'd either persuaded his parents to get for him or that he had managed to prepare himself, but in the end he had been quite pleased with the results. Oh, it certainly would never have been mistaken for any sort of professional work, but for the toil of an eleven year old child it wasn't half bad.

One thing that always came to mind whenever he thought of that mock up head had been the time that he'd realized that the jaws were almost big enough to snap him up whole.

Now, staring at those huge massive sharp teeth he found himself realizing that the huge head displayed there was actually more or less the same size as the fake Tyrannosaurus head that he had made.

Somehow he managed to slump into the chair in front of the desk and out of the direct line of sight of those massive gargantuan savage teeth. Once he was no longer in front of them it was as though a spell had been broken and he felt himself collapse into the chair as though all the bones in his body had been replaced with rubber bands.

"I see that you . . . appreciate my latest addition to my office." The voice commented casually, "I am quite pleased with it; it's a small trophy that I picked up during a recent trip to the Netherworld."

With a great effort the agent of the History Compilation Committee took a hold of himself and tried to pull himself together. This was ridiculous, he was a professional negotiator; he'd overseen or conducted dealing with mages, sorcerers, spirits and even ghosts. He would not fall apart simply because he had suddenly been confronted by the biggest set of jaws he had ever seen in his life, no matter how huge or sharp those teeth might be.

Sitting up in the chair, Watanabe made a deliberate effort to straighten his clothes and regain the decorum that he'd lost as soon as he'd come through the door.

Well, that had been a formidable opening gambit on the part of Emiya-sama, as to be expected of the King of Steel himself. In preparation for this meeting the only son of the Koizumi family had gone over every report and file that the Committee had put together upon the mysterious eighth Campione. Sadly there hadn't been too much solid information as most of what they had had been speculation and summation. Still some things had been quite clear, among them had been that fact that Emiya-sama was obviously a brilliant negotiator. This was clearly evidenced by the way he had conducted his now infamous Feast of Kings, having even gone so far as to invite a Divine Ancestor and yet still avoided any violence. That had been . . . masterly, a truly monumental achievement.

So when the Committee had received a message from Renjou Kaida that the eighth God Slayer wished to arrange a deal with them there had been considerable consternation.

Kings didn't need to make deals, it was well within both their rights and power to simply demand what it was that they wanted and to receive it not matter what the consequences were for those who provided what they sought. That Emiya Shirou was willing to broker some sort of arrangement was heartening, on the other hand the very thought of entering negotiations with one who was amassing such a reputation was daunting to say the least.

Still he had a job to do, one that he was honour bound to do to the best of his ability.

"Greetings Emiya-sama," He said as he stood up and formally bowed to the King sitting across the desk from him, "My thanks for so graciously receiving me. I am Koizumi Watanabe and I have been chosen by the Committee to represent them in the negotiations of this agreement that you have proposed."

Well, at least he'd been able to regain at least some tatters of his dignity. Still the effects of that huge head had been a brilliantly calculated initial gambit.

"I'm pleased to welcome you to my home Koizumi-san. I hope that Charlie here didn't startle you too much. I'm afraid that since I've had her mounted everyone that comes into my office seems to jump every time they first see her."

There were so many things that he could have said in response to that, however one question rose up above all others.

"Charlie?"

"Short for Charlotte," The young Emiya explained as his expression grew slightly pained, "While I was having the head mounted my sister managed to extract a promise that she could name it from me. Since we weren't aware of the beast's gender she chose Charlotte and then nicknamed it Charlie."

Brilliant, he used the mounted dragon's head to immediately highlight his power and position and then prepared a story with such human elements as a following blow. A well prepared combination meant to both intimidate and relax a target at the same time and leave him taking the metaphorical 'high ground'.

Brilliant.

Clearly even with all his preparations he had still not been taking this King as seriously as he should have been. Even without the use of his Authorities it was clear that this Emiya Shirou was a master at the game of verbal sparring and positioning.

Well even so Watanabe was a veteran at this, having been involved in such debates and negotiations for more than twenty years now. Even if this young King possessed natural genius surely it couldn't be a match for his years of hard won experience.

Trying to regain his centre the negotiator mentally prepared himself for what might well be the greatest challenge he had ever faced.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Shirou was pleased to see that the representative of the History Compilation Committee was starting to settle down.

Honestly, he knew that Charlie was a bit of a surprise when you first saw her, but it was as though everyone went to pieces the first time they saw the stuffed head. He knew that she was intimidating, but that was all she was, a stuffed head.

In all truth he had been a bit surprised when the dragon's head hadn't faded out of existence as he had expected. Perhaps it was because he had slain it in the Netherworld, or maybe it had been because it had been slain with a weapon of Arondight's calibre. Whatever the case might be both the head and the tail had remained as flesh rather than fading into nothingness. It was similar to the phenomena where slain deities left behind parts of themselves in the form of 'angel bones' or 'dragon remnants', in this case it was simply more complete. Right now the majority of the tail had been frozen after his first attempts at cooking the meat had proven to be a disastrous failure. He'd elected to keep it in such a state until he'd researched a more suitable method by which to cook it.

Still, no time to think about that now. At this point in time the main concern was getting these negotiations done. At the moment this Koizumi Watanabe seemed to be waiting for him to make the first move so he supposed he might as well get the ball rolling.

"Well Koizumi-san as you might be aware one of the Authorities that I possess allows me to raise the dead after a fashion. However for this Authority to function I require something of the one that I seek to resurrect such as a piece of bone, a treasured artefact or some part of their grave."

The negotiator nodded at that. It seemed that the Committee was aware of, or had at least suspected, the condition upon the use of Rule of the Underworld. Well that wasn't really too much of a surprise. Anybody that had the resources to uncover the nature of the purchases that he'd made over the internet could probably have picked up the clues to at least partially work it out. If they knew then that just made things a bit easier for him.

"The nature of the deal that I propose is that the Committee will take charge of finding such items in relation to the kind of Souls that I need. Up until this point I have been able to add plenty of mundane warriors to my service, they are strong and loyal, but I also need others. I need spellcasters to back them up and to attack the enemy, I need those familiar with the supernatural who can act as leaders and advisors to the rest."

He saw an expression of slight puzzlement appear on the negotiator's face so he decided to clarify.

"This is what I need the Committee to find for me, the best warriors of the magical world that can be brought to my service. I need for my forces to be able to be fully independent of me should it be necessary. Several of the Heretic Gods that I've faced have been able to summon servitors to aid them in battle; I want my own forces to be able to handle these servitors without me while I focus upon the rogue god myself."

Another thought crossed his mind and he raised a hand as though to ward off something.

"Let me be clear that I will not enslave any souls that I am capable of summoning up. Any that I call upon will be offered a choice as to whether or not they wish to serve me. If they do not then I shall respect that decision and seek others in their place. Be sure to inform your leaders of that, there will be no abuse of those that come into my service."

"And . . . what would the Committee be able to expect in return for this service?"

The question was asked carefully and Shirou could understand why. As a Campione it was well within his rights to simply demand what he wanted and not have to give anything in return if he didn't feel like it. In the past it had been fairly common for new Campione to indulge in their new power by becoming indolent tyrants; however that wasn't a path that held any sort of appeal for Shirou.

"My payment will be twofold," he explained as he stood and placed a briefcase on his desk so that it faced Watanabe. With a click it sprang open and revealed the four large and gleaming golden ingots that were inside. "The first part of the payment will be in plain wealth and in amounts sufficient to reimburse the Committee for any costs that they might incur in the performance of their side of the deal."

As he finished the sentence he closed the briefcase and sat down, though he was careful to leave it on the desk where it could be easily seen.

"The second part of the payment will be somewhat less mundane. If your organization can find for me the kinds of servants that I'm looking for then I would be willing to use my Authority to allow them to speak to one resurrected individual of their choice in return for every three additions that consent to join my forces. Arrangements can be made as to when and who shall be summoned and what arrangements must be made so that in can be as convenient for both parties as possible."

He let that hang in the air for a moment as he could practically see the wheels turning in the negotiator's mind. What Shirou was offering was something that was of incalculable worth. Back in his own reality there would have been those willing to trade their internal organs for the opportunity to spend only a few short hours speaking to one long dead. The secrets that could be learned, the lost Mysteries that could be recovered, any Magus worth his salt would be practically salivating at the mere thought of such an opportunity.

Granted the mages of this world seemed to be somewhat more moderate in the fervour with which they pursued their research, but even so what he was offering had to be tempting. With any luck the offer would be acceptable, although he did have a number of other options to add if he had to 'sweeten the pot' as it were. For now all he could do was wait for the negotiator's reply

. . . huh?

Why was he staring like that? For that matter why was he sweating so heavily? Might he be ill?

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Koizumi Watanabe knew that he was in trouble. Even though he had managed to talk would-be warlords, terrorists and radicals to his point of view he was finding himself outmanoeuvred at every turn.

It was as though Emiya-sama could anticipate his every thought and had planned accordingly. The normal openings that he would normally use were being closed before he could exploit them and direct the exchange as he wanted to go. That was the secret of his success up to this point, the secret control of the tempo of the dialogue. Once you trapped the other party into your own rhythm rather than theirs it became much easier to subtly guide their opinions to where you wanted them to go.

But every time an opening appeared it was snapped shut almost immediately afterwards. The first part of admitting to the limitation of one of his Authorities had been a stone wall to which allowed no interruption without overstepping the bounds of polite formality. Then the eighth Campione had gone on to explain just what it was that he wanted.

Watanabe had thought that he'd seen an opening at that point, but it had been neatly closed by Emiya-sama explaining why he needed to improve his army. That had been a cunning decision, by raising the way it improved his ability to fight Heretic Gods he was cutting the counter arguments that the negotiator could use down to barely a fifth of the options originally available to him. Those arguments had again been cut down when the King of Steel had declared that none of the souls that the Committee provided would be pressed into his service against their will.

He'd thought that he'd been able to make an inroad when he'd been allowed to ask what kind of payment the Committee might be able to expect. When he'd seen the bars of gold that Emiya-sama had produced his throat had gone dry and his spirits had leapt. On the one hand offers of gold and riches were something he was familiar with and could use; on the other hand the sheer scale of the amount of gold that was being offered eclipsed anything he'd dealt with in the past.

However even such a generous offer was not without hidden meaning. It was now a somewhat well known fact in the magical circles that the first soul that Emiya-sama had enlisted to aid him had been the now infamous Yamada Yusuke. In the time since he had come into the service of the eighth Campione the undead accountant had become a minor legend in himself given the way he had been able to turn virtually any venture he touched into pure profit. With him keeping track of the payments involved there was absolutely no chance that 'creative' number crunching could be used to make even the slightest inflation of the figures that could be taken advantage of.

Another potential avenue cut off before anyone could even think of using it.

Still, he could handle, he could-

Then, like a crushing hammer blow, came the second offer of payment.

The sheer genius of the tactic was enough to render him speechless. With that offer the Campione had essentially dictated the terms of their agreement without making a single demand and had at the same time totally cut off all avenues of argument available to Watanabe. The simple fact was that under normal circumstances being granted access to any Authority at all was a prize that any Mage would covet, but the Authority that Emiya-sama was proposing to allow them to use was valuable beyond measure.

The chance to speak to those who had died? The opportunity for the current leaders of the Committee to speak to their predecessors and learn what secrets had been lost? How could he negotiate when the eighth Campione had effectively sealed the deal before he had even spoken more than a handful of sentences?

Not only that, he had also used that very payment as yet another means to subtly emphasise his position as the stronger party in this deal by placing himself as the one that decided when the payment of a resurrection would take place.

Utterly brilliant.

As he looked at the young man before him Watanabe couldn't help but feel as though he were being pinned by the King's calm gaze. How could he have been so ignorant? He had entered this mansion confident that even if his magical skills were insignificant in comparison to the God Slayer's then at least his experience and expertise as a negotiator would grant him an advantage.

Foolishness, such foolishness.

This man was a Devil King, an existence that loomed over all puny mortals in ways that he couldn't comprehend. It wouldn't matter if he had a thousand years experience over Emiya Shirou, he would still have been crushed regardless.

As such there was nothing that he could do, all he could manage was to sit in his chair as though he were standing to attention and try to endure the searing gaze of the Campione that had so easily defeated him.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Shirou was beginning to become a bit concerned.

He remembered reading somewhere that during negotiation a common tactic was to remain silent for long periods of time so as to give the other party time to grow uncertain and uncomfortable as their imaginations manufactured ways in which everything could go wrong. The young Emiya had been willing to allow his guest a pause if it seemed appropriate to him, but it had been nearly five minutes since he had made his offer, and he was pretty sure that such pauses weren't meant to last quite so long. Still he had tried to be polite and had remained facing the negotiator rather than allowing his attention to wander, but even so . . .

In addition to that was the fact that Koizumi-san's conditioning seemed to be worsening, his face was now scarlet to an almost unhealthy hue and Shirou wasn't sure but he thought that he could see veins starting to stand out against his skin. He was also now sweating to the point where the collar of his shirt was now visibly damp and a small rivulet of perspiration was running down the side of his face.

Okay, Shirou decided that things had gone on long enough. By the looks of it this Koizumi Watanabe was a man so dedicated to his work that he had come to conduct this negotiation even though he was clearly ill. Even though the eighth Campione didn't like to rush other people in this case it was probably best to get this deal wrapped up soon so that Koizumi-san could go and see a doctor as soon as possible.

"Are the terms I've suggested agreeable to those you represent, or do I need to get . . . imaginative?"

There, that sounded suitably professional, and with any luck it could open the doors for his counter proposal. Once that proposal was made then Shirou would ask for some time to think it over and that would give Koizumi-san an excuse to get out of here and go seek either rest or medical help without losing face.

"Y-Yes, I'm certain that the heads of the Committee would be quite happy with such an arrangement."

Shirou blinked in surprise. He hadn't been expecting for such a ready agreement to his terms. Was this some sort of mistake? A snap decision made by a man that was feeling at the end of his rope due to sickness?

"Are you certain? I don't mind if you wish to take some time to consider it." He offered.

"N-No Emiya-sama," Watanabe said shaking his head, "Th-The terms that you have o-offered us are more th-than agreeable. I-I'm sure that the heads of the Four Families will be most pleased with it."

"Well," Shirou commented as he stood up and gestured for the negotiator to do likewise, "If you feel that is the case then I'm very pleased with this outcome. However please inform the Heads that if they should wish to renegotiate this agreement at a later point then I would be willing to do so."

Koizumi-san didn't even answer; he simply nodded his head in agreement. Even that seemed strange though, as though his head was resting on some sort of spring rather than a neck. The way his head . . . bobbled, for want of a better word, did not look healthy.

Seeing how the man looked a bit on the faint side now the young King of Steel came to a decision.

"Koizumi-san, I think it would be best if I had the gold delivered to your superiors by one of my servants. That much gold is quite weighty after all and, I hope you'll forgive me; you don't quite look up to carting it around. Please send me an address and I shall have it sent there by totally reliable individuals."

"Ah . . . v-very well Emiya-sama, perhaps it would be b-best to do as you s-say."

Shirou nodded in agreement and then offered a small bow of respect as a farewell, then gestured to indicate that it was alright for his guest to leave. Koizumi-san bowed deeply in return, then opened the door and exited the room.

As the western style door clicked shut behind the negotiator the young Emiya allowed himself a low sigh of relief.

All in all things had gone much better than he had feared. In his mental preparations for this meeting he'd envisioned all sorts of things going wrong. Some had been absurd, such as his brief fantasy of the negotiator conning him out of all his wealth and leaving him and Illya destitute on the streets. Others had been worryingly possible, such as his imagining of him losing his temper and using his authority as a Campione to simply demand what he wanted.

Still, as it stood it seemed things had gone very smoothly for him, he might need to enter further negotiations later, but for the time being at least things were falling into place as he wanted.

Idly he hoped that the negotiator's health improved soon. Hmmm, he wondered what he'd caught.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Watanabe leaned against a wall and tried his best to get the pounding jack hammer that had replaced his heart under control.

That . . . that had been the single most terrifying experience of his entire life. How could he have been so foolish as to think that he could outmatch one such as Emiya-sama? Ah, hubris, hubris, there was no other way to describe it.

And there was no other way to describe the outcome of this meeting as anything other than a total defeat on his part.

Truly the King of Steel was beyond anything he could have imagined. Granted Watanabe could say that he had come out of this meeting having secured the most prestigious deal that the History Compilation Committee had gained in the last four hundred years. He could tell his superiors that he had secured them vast wealth as well as access to the Authority of a Campione. If one looked at it from a purely 'cost to profit' perspective then you could say that this had been a resounding victory.

But that would be a lie.

In truth he had in no way succeeded, far from it in fact. The God Slayer had dictated the terms, defined the services and finalized the payment. He had to all intents and purposes simply told the negotiator what the conditions of the agreement would be to the point where Watanabe's presence was more or less nothing more than a formality.

However what was really amazing was the way in which the King achieved this end.

He had done it without making a single demand. Despite the overwhelming authority he possessed and the vast powers he could wield as threats he had used neither. Instead he had simply cut off all line of reasonable argument until the only rational option left was to simply accept his terms without question.

Utterly brilliant.

This went beyond the simple negotiation that Watanabe had been so proud of his talents in, this entered into a whole different realm of talent. What was the greater achievement, to talk one opposition into agreeing with you or to cut off all options until agreement with you was the only option available? The only son of the Koizumi family knew what he thought.

And he now had a new idol in his life.


-()-


"We are all ready?"

The question rang through the great cave as clearly as a struck bell.

"Yes."

By contrast the single word spoken by Athena in reply was low and quiet, yet despite that it seemed to convey a sense of absolute confidence.

"I'm fully prepared."

Andromeda's voice was resolute, the tone of one that knew they had a difficult task ahead of them but was ready to put forth the effort needed to see the work done.

"Shall we be on with this? I have far more entertaining means of spending my time than this."

Unlike the others present Venus's voice lacked any sort of tension or readiness, instead she simply sounded bored and a little impatient.

"Please allow us just a few more minutes of your time honoured Venus," Brynhildr implored, even as internally she snarled at having to ask this jumped up harlot for anything, "With your aid this task will be accomplished that much the sooner and then all of us may advance towards our objectives that much sooner."

The goddess of beauty and love gave no verbal reply; she merely inclined her head in a sort of indulging way. It was a gesture similar to what a parent might have given to a child that was making a minor but inconvenient request. To have such a dismissive motion directed at her caused the blonde Divine Ancestor's blood to boil with rage.

However despite her anger she let no sign of it show on her face. Now was not the time to move against Venus, if she was foolish enough to do so then she'd find herself either as the goddess's adoring slave or madly in love with whatever else struck the Heretic Goddess as amusing. No, now was not the time to give in to her resentments or to vent her frustrations.

Instead Brynhildr turned her full attention to the cradle of black stone that rested upon the altar before her.

"Very well . . . begin!" She called as she focused her own power upon the instrument of magic that she had crafted.

At her words a complex glyph that had been carved into the stone floor of the cavern lit up as magic surged through it. Three flows of energies directed from the three individuals that were connected to the cradle through the glyph.

Despite her suppressed discontent she couldn't help but feel a surge of triumphant glee. Her plan had worked, despite all the things that could have gone wrong it had worked.

In all truth the cradle had been functioning perfectly and it should have completed its task days ago. However due to the tiny blocks that the Divine Ancestor had carefully inserted into the flows the artefact was now only feeding a small part of the energy it held into its intended task. As a result rather than having accomplished its purpose days ago the cradle had become a sort of battery for the divine power fed into it.

And now her fellow Divine Ancestor, Athena and Venus were all pouring their strength into her creation thinking that they were overpowering the final barrier that kept their future ally from descending to the mortal plane.

This was a tight rope that she was walking. On the one hand she could not afford to lose even a drop of the power that the cradle was now storing for her future use, all her plans depended upon that store of power. On the other hand if she became to greedy and stored too much then one of the three might well sense it and deduce her deception. She had to be careful and not allow her avarice and contempt for her 'allies' to make her overconfident.

Just a little more.

Just a little . . .

And . . .

There, that was the limit; to take anymore would risk revealing herself. Now was the time to let her cradle perform the task for which she had made it.

"There!" she called out as the golden globe that nested in her artefact began to glow brighter and brighter. "The last barrier is complete; all we need to do is complete the ritual."

In a single movement she plucked the globe out of the obsidian that made up her cradle and placed it into an indentation upon the altar. The golden orb was very hot to touch, not enough to burn her fingers, at least not immediately, but enough so that it hurt to hold it for any length of time.

Her task complete she stepped away from the stone altar and made way for Andromeda. As she did so she casually took the cradle in one hand and carried it with her as she stepped back. It was a simple and easily overlooked movement, but it ensured that she would keep hold of the artefact and that no others would be looking it over.

Quickly she slipped off the robe she had been wearing and under the pretence of casually folding it wrapped it around the cradle. Her task complete she turned back to the altar to see how the dual hair coloured Divine Ancestor was doing.

"By your signs I do name you, sun, archer, serpent slayer. By your domains I call you, the prophetess, the ridden sun, the healer, the musician. By your achievements I draw you, the crow, the sunflower, the Asclepius. Hear what I have said and answer my call!"

The formula that Andromeda was using was a simple but powerful one. Most of the work had already been made by the orb and the cradle, by using the three times three incantation that named the various attributes of her target the older fallen goddess was essentially using raw power to crack the final barrier and communicate with her target.

The orb itself was another of Brynhildr's creation; an artefact forged using an abandoned fragment of the Sun god's power that she had stumbled across nearly three centuries ago. At the time it had simply been an exercise into seeing if she could preserve divine power in such a way, but as the decades passed she had noticed that there was a connection between it and the deity to which the power belonged. She had considered ways in which it could be employed, yet her experiments told her that without the power of a true deity there was little that could be done.

Then had come the alliance with Athena.

The goddess of wisdom might be far less than what she had once been, but she was still a powerful deity none the less. It had been her power that had allowed the golden orb to fulfil the purpose for which it had been altered, to achieve something that to her knowledge had never been done before.

The early release of a god from his legend.

Normally when a god was slain they returned to their legend to sleep and recover. The length of time that this took varied from one god to the next, but the time was generally centuries. However some gods were not content to sleep within their myth some carried grudges or harboured desires that would not let them rest. These rare rogue deities were constantly trying to find some way to return to the mortal plane earlier even though there was no way for them to do so.

However if an external force worked to aid them then the rules would change.

And that was what was taking place now, right before her eyes a god was escaping his myth and manifesting himself upon the lower plane.

The golden globe no longer glowed now; instead it shone as brilliantly as the sun. Andromeda had backed away from the altar as the light and heat that it radiated grew too much for her to bear. Even the altar itself, an ancient one craved from volcanic rock, was sagging beneath the scorching force that rested upon it.

Then there was a single titanic cracking noise, as though a pane of glass of continental size had suddenly broken in two. The noise echoed around the huge cavern, its force so great that the golden haired Divine Ancestor found herself on her knees and clutching herself as her very bones seemed to ring like a struck bell.

Both the globe and the altar disappeared into a golden firestorm. A column of fire the colour of the sun and more than five metres across reached from the ground all the way up to the roof of the cavern and roared with force. Though brief the flames were intense and Brynhildr could see where their heat had melted groves into the floor and ceiling.

However just as fast as the flames appeared they then vanished, leaving behind a figure standing on the molten rock where the altar had once been.

He was tall, well over six feet in height and of a slender but muscled build His skin was tanned and his hair was short and golden as the precious metal and a laurel wreath encircled his temples. he was clad in a sort of long white toga, but over it he wore golden armour upon his arms, shoulders and legs. On his back were a bow and a quiver of golden arrows and at his waist was a lyre made with a tortoise shell.

He was handsome as no mortal could be and about him was a radiance, a halo of light that seemed to come from nowhere and yet followed him around like a faithful hound staying with its master.

"Who . . . Who has done this?" His voice was as magnificent as his form, a rich baratone that reached out to all who heard it, "Who has aided me in my efforts to return to this plane?"

"We did honoured lord."

Andromeda's voice sounded . . . small, almost flat by comparison. Yet despite that she presented herself boldly before the descended god.

"A fallen goddess? I had not expected one such as you to aid me in my efforts to return. Still you have my gratitude, know that I shall richly reward you for your aid in my return."

The god took a moment to glance around the great cavern and his eyes narrowed slightly as he caught sight of the two goddesses that were present.

"Athena, Aphrodite, I am surprised to see you here. Why would you aid these fallen goddesses in their efforts?"

"The honoured goddesses are aiding us for their own reasons my lord," For all of her newfound contempt for her long time ally Brynhildr couldn't help but feel a grudging admiration for the older Divine Ancestors courage in speaking thus to a full deity. "Our goals and means intersect and they have been gracious enough to join their power to our own so that we may all gain what we seek. It is our hope that you may enter into such an arrangement with us as well.

"Would that be agreeable to you lord Apollo?"

The Greek god of the sun arched a single eyebrow at the fallen goddess's words and a look of undisguised scepticism crossed his face.

"And of what aid could any of you be in my quest? You two foreign goddesses have lost almost all your divinity, fair Aphrodite is unsuited for such endeavours and Athena is too reduced to serve as an ally. How may any of you aid me?"

"You seek to revenge yourself upon the child of Pandora that defeated you the last time that you walked upon the mortal plane," Andromeda stated her face proud and resolute. "Already we have aided you in this task my lord, this cave in which you have appeared has been enspelled so that the signs of your descent have been masked to those that might sense it. There shall be no warning to your prey; Sasha Dejanstahl Voban remains unaware of your coming."

"So, he yet lives?" Apollo's question was tinged with a sort of dreadful eagerness, a malevolent hunger for revenge that seemed out of place on his handsome features.

"Indeed," the red and blue haired Divine Ancestor assured him, "He is now the oldest of the living Devil Kings and has slain many deities over the centuries since he faced you."

"You know much of him," The Greek god commented before his eyes narrowed slightly, "You know that I wish to battle him once more, to avenge my last defeat at his hands. If so then you must also know that I will desire his location so that I can go to him, and if you know that then you must have a price for that knowledge. What is that price, and why should I not simply take it by force if you stand in the way of my quest?"

Andromeda swallowed at that, however no other sign of fear showed on her face or in her bearing.

"The price for that knowledge is a small one my lord, and I think it shall be one that you will indeed be happy to pay."

That comment brought a look of interested surprise to the god's face as his head tilted in interest.

"As you have said myself and my ally are lacking much of our divinity and honoured Athena is herself reduced. We seek to return to our former glory, to regain that which was taken from us so long ago.

"To re-attain what has been lost we must capture one of the two children of Pandora that call this land their home. Both of these God Slayers are young, not even having worn the mantle of a Devil King for a full year. Honoured Venus has consented to aid us in capturing the one that we need for our ends, however that still leaves the other.

"Our price is only a small one lord Apollo; we ask only that you deal with the other God Slayer while we capture our target. Once our ends have been achieved we will be happy to grant you the location of your target and will lend any aid you wish to ensure you may battle him as you desire."

Brynhildr felt a frown beginning to form at those words, but banished it before it could appear. That hadn't been the plan; they hadn't ever spoken of offering their aid to this god. Of course if all went according to plan then by that point Andromeda would have regained her full divinity and be more powerful than she had ever been before. What would it matter then if guaranteeing her own return to power would delay Brynhildr's?

Well it didn't matter; the blonde Divine Ancestor had been preparing to take steps against the older fallen goddess anyway. Learning of this simply proved that she had made the right choice in her own preparations.

"Heh, heh heh ha ha HA HA HAHAHAH!"

A chuckle from the god grew and swelled into laughter that echoed about the cavern. His shoulders shook with his mirth and as he laughed he shook his head in seeming bemusement.

"Oh this is rare entertainment that I find myself facing upon my descent. For fallen goddesses to try to reclaim what they have lost . . . oh that is a thought worthy of mirth."

Then, as though a switch had been thrown, all humour bled out of his expression and was replaced with a sort of grim intensity.

"Very well, I shall aid you. This young Devil King will prove to be a worthy target upon which to sharpen my edge before I go to face my slayer. However if you should try to deceive me or withhold the knowledge you'll owe me then I promise you that regaining your lost divinity will be the least of your worries."

"I would not be so foolish as to even think of such," Andromeda declared as she performed a slight bow, one low enough to be courteous yet not so deep as to be subservient. "With your aid any debt you might have will be cleared, we shall achieve our ends and you shall be led to your prey. All of us shall gain what we seek."

Well that wouldn't be quite true if Brynhildr's plans went through as she hoped that they would. But that was still off in the future, for now her plans paralleled those of her supposed 'allies'. Until she was ready it was best if their plans went as smoothly as possible as that would in time only further her own. Apollo's agreement to aid them was a definite asset, granted she would have preferred for him to be loyal to her, but in the end she didn't see him being much of a problem so long as she made no direct moves against him.

All in good time.


-()-


It had been about three hours since the negotiator had left and Shirou felt that he had been using the time productively.

Shortly after the meeting had ended the eighth Campione had made his way to his workshop and had set about the task of channelling his Prana into the Gem Sword. The blade made of jewels now held almost twenty times his full reserves of power, a sum that could easily have supported a powerful Servant through an entire Holy Grail War with ease. Honestly he didn't have any plans for how to use such a vast mass of power, but infusing his Prana into it had become a sort of daily ritual, a sort of work out for his Magic Circuits.

He'd also taken the time to refine the Mystic Code itself somewhat, minor cosmetic changes only, but they made it look a bit better. The lines were a bit smoother and the cuts that gave it shape were now slightly cleaner. The enormous gem still had a slightly rough hewn look to it, but now it looked less . . . primitive, and more like a product of civilization.

Having finished the task of channelling Prana into the Code Shirou carefully wrapped it up once more and stored it within a long chest that Illya had made for him. The chest was one of her own Mystic Codes and was adorned with various spells to ensure that the attention of others would slide off it. Those who penetrated that defence would find other enchantments protecting it from forced entry and others that would alert both Shirou and her should anyone interfere with them.

She'd offered to also install a self destruct function so that if all her protections were breached then the chest would destroy what it contained and thus deny any thief their spoils. Shirou had appreciated the suggestion, but had decided that destroying a vessel that held enough Prana to be considered a minor Holy Grail would probably be a bad thing. Granted he was pretty sure that the Gem Sword wouldn't function as a weapon, but on the other hand what if he was wrong? If he was then the sword might end up detonating with all the force of a nuclear weapon.

Instead he'd inscribed a number of ruins into the platinum that he had added to the hilt as ornamentation. He could use those runes to track the blade should it ever be stolen, and with any luck that should be enough insurance should the worst take place.

Having stowed the beautiful Mystic Code away the King of Steel decided that now was as good a time as any to finally knuckle down to a task that he'd been putting off for too long.

Arondight.

Ever since his battle with the dragon in the Netherworld he'd been meaning to investigate the Noble Phantasm's strange behaviour. However in uncharacteristic procrastination he had found himself putting that chore off again and again. He wasn't sure why, but for some reason he just kept on finding more urgent things to do as soon as he got round to doing it.

Well not this time. He'd deliberately cleared his afternoon and made sure that he'd gotten all his homework done early and that he had no forgotten appointments just so that he could take an hour or two to get some work done on this.

Holding his right hand up he . . . pulled, he could think of no other word to describe it. It wasn't Tracing, and it wasn't the summoning of a Noble Phantasm out of its astral state, this was something else. It was as though he was mentally expressing a desire for the sword to be there, and then the next instant it was.

Frowning Shirou looked down at the dark blue/purple sword that he now held. This was Arondight, of that he was certain. Almost reflexively he used Structural Analysis upon it and saw its nature and history. The Unfading Light of the Lake, Sword of Sir Lancelot, brother blade to Excalibur and a Holy Sword stained by the sins of betrayal, adultery and despair. Within it dwelt all the resentment and madness that Lancelot's guilt had driven him to, and yet there was also love, a love so strong and unyielding that even beneath layers of rage and sorrow it shone through.

With a shake of his head the young Emiya brought himself out of the slight daze he had fallen into.

That had been strange, it was almost as though his consciousness had been sinking into the blade, submerging within its history and the feelings trapped within it. It hadn't been anything malicious or harmful; rather it was as though his magic had suddenly begun to work on a deeper level than it had before. It had gone beyond him simply sensing the emotions and wishes within the sword; instead it had almost been as though he were feeling them himself.

No, that wasn't quite right. He hadn't felt them, it was more as though he had remembered them, remembered something that he himself had never experienced.

A sudden thought struck him as he stared at the blade. Was it . . . ? Hmmm.

Reaching out with his other hand he Traced a copy of Arondight from the record in his Reality Marble, then he held up the first blade and compared the two.

Yes, this confirmed what he thought he'd seen. The first sword was of unquestionably higher rank than the Traced version. The second sword hadn't been reinforced using Dragon Slaying Hero and consequently it had suffered a reduction in rank as it had been Traced, but there was more to it. The second sword was fractionally darker than the first; to his mystic senses it felt more . . . stained was the only word that he could think of.

The Arondight in his right hand was still dark, still cursed, but it felt fractionally less malevolent than its Traced counterpart.

There was more though, the Unfading Light of the Lake was a powerful Noble Phantasm, easily one of the mightiest swords in the world. Tracing it was costly, even with his new reserves it was not an inconsiderable sum of Prana, yet when he had called the first version of the Sword into being there had been no drain upon his reserves, none at all. Now that he held it he could feel it drawing a slight trickle of power from him, yet the drain was so small as to be insignificant.

This . . . this just didn't make any sense. Arondight wasn't reacting to him like a Traced weapon, so clearly this wasn't some sort of Tracing that had, for want of a better term, mutated. For a time he'd thought that maybe he'd somehow gone beyond a mere recreation and had instead made it perfect somehow, but even that wasn't quite right. This was something new, something that he couldn't quite explain.

Okay, how about trying to look at this from a different angle, what were the differences in this new sword? Well, there was this strange link that he now had with the sword, the way in which he could 'read' it so much more clearly than he could other blades. Then there was the way in which it was perfect, no flaws or deficiencies to lower its rank or power. And of course there was the way in which it kept on appearing out of nowhere without even needing to be Traced. It wasn't even like Snow who at least existed in a sort of astralized state when not being summoned, it just came out of nothingness whenever-

Just came out of nothingness . . .

Nothingness . . .

No.

No, that simply couldn't be. His Tracing might seem to be the creation of substance from nothing, but in truth it was simply the conversion of his Prana into a solid form. Einstein's law that energy could not be created or destroyed, only converted into another form, held as true for Thaumaturgy as it did for science.

Unless, of course, you were using True Magic. If that was the case then all the rules were essentially thrown out of the window.

Okay, take a deep breath and try to look at this as logically as he could manage.

He had not spontaneously mastered the Denial of Nothingness, that much was clear. However he was definitely doing something similar to it with Arondight. Just to highlight this to himself Shirou banished the sword and watched it fade with hawk like attention. There were no fading particles of Prana, no crumbling into component particles that themselves evaporated. It simply went from existing to not existing; a mental command and the reverse took place. Again there was no drain on his prana; it was simply there when he wanted it.

There was definitely something going on here, something that he didn't understand. Arondight was . . . bonded to him somehow. He couldn't simply will another into existence, that much was determined by a little quick experimentation, so that meant that this wasn't a case of him being able to perform the First Magic on the Unfading Light of the Lake alone. If that were the case then he would have been able to produce limitless numbers of the mighty sword. Yet at the same time it wasn't as though the sword was there all the time, it was deficiently being created, unmade and then recreated.

It was enough to make Shirou want to tear his hair out. It definitely wasn't the Denial of Nothingness, but that being said it was probably as close as one could get without it being the real thing.

And the really frustrating part was that he had no idea how it had happened.

Well, that wasn't quite true; he did have some idea of how this had started in the first place. Back during his battle with Mordred he'd been so exhausted and suffering from the price of using Curses without End. None the less he'd heard Guinevere in trouble and had instinctively tried to help her by Tracing a weapon. At the same time the Arondight within Unlimited Blade Works had reacted to Guinevere being in danger.

What had happened next had been . . . unique. It had been as though the sword he had been trying to create had Traced itself. His skills had made it, but it had been the weapon itself that had provided the power for its own creation and had directed his efforts to achieve perfection in its recreation.

Of course that made practically no sense; it was utterly paradoxical for something to create itself. And yet that was what had happened.

Well, there were positives and negatives to this. On the positive side he now had full access to one of the most powerful Noble phantasms in his Reality Marble at only a tiny fraction of the cost it had once taken to use it. On the down side was the fact that he didn't have a complete picture of how this new asset operated or what the rules behind it were.

Oh, and he could feel a headache coming on.

Wonderful.


-()-


The sun had set and the moon and stars now took their places amidst the sky. In a way this was Athena's favourite time of the day, night had been her domain, her kingdom, back in those long ago days when she had been young and her power at its height. This time; the first few moments after the light of day finally faded and the moon ruled the sky, this was the moment when her rule had begun.

Shaking her head to clear it of such wanderings she focused her attention upon the object of her scrutiny.

Kusanagi Godou sat at his table and shared his meal with his younger sister; she could see him through the window of his home. He looked to be in a fairly good mood as he was smiling as he spoke to his younger sibling.

Inwardly Athena found herself to be a bit on the worried side as she found herself caught between her promise to aid her current allies and her promise to herself to fight the seventh Campione after he had matured and she had regained her full power. Their plans to send Apollo to fight him made her a bit . . . uncertain.

In all truth she was a bit unsure of why she felt that way. Godou was a powerful Campione despite his relative youth. For one who had possessed no combat experience whatsoever before finding himself embroiled in the affairs of Heretic Gods her beloved prey had proven himself to be remarkably talented. The same quality that made him a King in the first place made him a natural fighter with his new abilities.

It wasn't even a question as to whether Apollo would be that much of a powerful foe should they meet. Quite frankly the descended sun god was probably one of the lower tier foes that Kusanagi Godou had faced. The strength of a god was determined by the strength of their ego. Apollo might have drive and determination, but in his haste to escape his legend as soon as possible he had accepted help in escaping and that might well have resulted in a certain level of . . . blunting of his edge. In addition to that the simple fact that he had forced himself out of his legend before the time when it would have been natural for him to do so had also gone towards the slight decrease of his strength.

It was a subtle thing, possibly something that he wasn't even aware of, but his haste had definitely left him reduced in a number of areas. If she had to estimate his current strength Athena would guess her fellow Greek deity to be about on par with her own strength when she had reabsorbed her power from the Gorgoneion. Back then though she had regained her true form Athena hadn't yet attained her full divinity. Apollo had his full divinity, but his essence was weaker than her own which resulted in the comparable power.

Still, in all honesty the former Queen of Wisdom and Death felt that she was the more dangerous of the two of them despite their equal power. By her nature Athena not only possessed a greater number of Authorities due to her longer legend, but she was also a more intelligent opponent than Apollo. She was, in part at least, a goddess of war; her supposed half brother was by contrast more of a hunter than a fighter. A dangerous one to be sure, but still not an out and out warrior. Given that Godou had defeated her then Apollo should not prove to be an insurmountable challenge to him.

So why was there a worm of worry gnawing at her?

There was definitely something about Apollo that set him apart from the other foes that her prey had fought in the past. However even as she thought about it the fallen goddess couldn't quite put her finger on it.

"Oh, so this is what has been catching your interest lately Athena? I hadn't thought that any young man would have managed that."

The slightly mocking yet beautiful voice came from behind her and caused Athena to spin around in a movement that was uncommonly hasty for her. Sure enough her worst fears were confirmed as she saw that Venus had indeed somehow managed to follow her.

Damn it, how could this have happened? Most of the time the former Queen of the gods was very careful in how she covered her tracks when she left on these small outings. While she had no ill intentions towards any of her current allies her stalking of her prey was something private, something that she didn't want them to intrude upon. The goddess of love wasn't a tracker or a spy, so how had she been able to follow her?

"And a God Slayer too, really my dear when you choose to do something you don't do it by half measures do you?"

Never mind that, right now she had to focus upon keeping her calm and not summoning up a scythe to go after Venus with.

"That one is my prey, do not interfere."

"Is that what you're telling yourself? Oh, poor foolish Athena. You can know everything about any craft you choose, you can pull the knowledge you seek from the memories of the void, and yet for all that you remain woefully ignorant of the workings of your own heart."

The goddess of Beauty and Love was leaning against a wall now as she gazed at the childlike goddess with eyes that were amused, disdainful and just a bit malicious.

"Let me try to guess what he did to gain your attention so devotedly," the request was worded politely, but held no trace of true regard or respect, "I know that you'd not look to a man that was weak, that wouldn't interest you would it? No, he'd have had to have done something special. Was it a god? Did you see him defeat a god that had been your enemy in the past?"

Despite her iron control Athena must have reacted somehow because a knowing smile suddenly appeared on her questioners face.

"Ah, so he did defeat someone, but who, that's the question, who did he defeat that could make you so fascinated with him?" Venus's eyes suddenly widened, "Was it you? Is that why you're so interested in him, because he beat you in the past?"

Again the pale haired goddess was sure that she gave no indication, but yet somehow the Roman goddess seemed to draw some sort of confirmation from her.

"That's it! Oh Athena that's so rare, have you become like an Amazon that becomes interested in a man when he proves his strength by defeating her?"

"Wait, no, that wouldn't be enough. There has to be something else besides simply defeating you."

Her head tilted questioningly.

"If . . . if he defeated you . . . then why are you still here? A Devil King that defeats a deity, even one reduced like you, gains an Authority."

Her face suddenly split into a broad grin that was almost a leer. There was something about that smile, something cruel, something malicious. Athena was not accustomed to experiencing any sort of fear, but at the sight of that grin she felt a cold shiver make its way up and down her spine.

"That's it isn't it? He beat you, but he didn't slay you. That's what caught your interest. Was it his kindness? Did he smile when he let you go?"

Her eyes flicked past Athena's childlike form and focused upon Godou through the window of his home.

"Oh, he seems like a good young boy, a good house, a young sibling, probably good parents too. A good boy that is a good person, that's it. What did he do? Did he manage to defeat you and then when he had you at his mercy did he let you go if you promised not to cause any more trouble? Did that melt something in your heart? Did it make you so curious that you came back?"

Athena was privately cursing herself for having allowed things to come this far. When faced with Venus's normally licentiousness careless attitude it was all too easy to forget that she was in many ways like Athena herself. She was a former Mother Goddess that had undergone many changes over the ages. She had been known by many names before her current one, names such as Ishtar, Inanna, and Aphrodite.

However given her normally hedonistic attitude her intelligence and cunning were all too easy to overlook. She had seen a bit too clearly into the fallen goddess's heart and been able to deduce what had happened a bit too accurately.

Her fight with Godou had been an extremely emotional experience for the normally stoic goddess. Having first been somewhat giddy with joy and exultations and the reclamation of her full divinity her temperament had swiftly soured after the young King had begun to reopen old emotional wounds. Her emotions had run a swift gambit from outrage to anger to fear to revulsion and ended in a sort of acceptance after she had been defeated. Athena had fully expected to be slain then; however Godou had simply told her to leave. That had surprised her, though she hadn't let her startlement show, after all why abandon such a chance to increase his power?

In response the seventh Campione had told her that he was a civilized man and that she shouldn't try to push ancient practices onto him.

Venus was right that that had been the source of her interest in him, but her feelings weren't romantic in nature. He was her beloved prey, the opponent that she most wished to face once she had regained her full power. By then he would be an experienced King, one fully able to use the powers that he had usurped. That would be the fight that she craved, a battle to test her limits and show her what she could be.

That was all.

Right?

"Still he is a young one, maybe Apollo will end up cutting him down after all. He's certainly been in the mood for it since his descent. He has nothing else on his mind apart from finding and killing the child of Pandora that defeated him. He even turned down the opportunity to spend some enjoyable time with me, can you believe it?"

The fallen goddess of earth and death hadn't really been paying too much attention to what her fellow deity had been saying since her own thoughts were stuck on trying to prove to herself that her feelings for Godou were purely battle related. However even though she was only listening with half an ear one thing that she said suddenly leapt out at her as significant.

'Nothing else on his mind apart from finding and killing the child of Pandora that defeated him'.

That was it.

That was what was setting her on edge about the thought of her prey facing the sun god.

In the past Godou had faced off against several foes, most of which had been immensely powerful, and acquitted himself well despite his relative inexperience. However even though he had faced daunting battles and overcome powerful foes he still had very little experience in facing enemies that were intent on killing him.

Herself, Verethragna, Melqart, Voban, Doni, Luo Hao and Sun Wukong, none of them had been really trying to kill him. Oh, gods like her and Melqert had used lethal attacks that would have slain him had they struck home, but that had been more incidental than anything else. In the vast majority of the fights he had endured Godou's opponents had been fighting to win rather than kill. Certainly if they had killed him then it would have counted as their win, but the killing was merely one of the avenues that they'd had available to them.

Quite frankly to the best of her knowledge the only enemy that Godou had faced who had wholeheartedly sought his death had been the Divine Beast that Andromeda had set upon him, and considering the difference of power between them the monster hadn't really been much of a threat.

Apollo on the other hand was an altogether different matter. He was a god on par with a Campione and he would be out for blood, all of it in fact. Might that be enough to open a gap between them that her prey might not be able to cross?

This bore more consideration, on the one hand she was loathe to even think of her beloved prey being snatched from her before his maturity completed, but on the other she was bound by her oath. Should she move against the plans of her allies then she would be in violation of the pact into which she had entered and would suffer the consequences.

"You know . . . if you want him then I could help you."

Once more the beautiful bell-like voice of Venus broke into her thoughts.

"I have no interest in him that way Venus, he is my prey, do not think otherwise."

"Oh? Are you sure that's all that you want? Have you thought of what it might be like for him to hold you in his arms? For him to gaze down at you and for you to know that at that moment you are the centre of his world? Is trying to strike each other down the only thing that you can think of to do with each other?"

It was quite remarkable how some well selected words could trickle into one's ear like the sweetest poison and then set the brain afire with the ideas they conveyed. Athena was doing her best not to let her inner turmoil show on her face, but even as Venus spoke those words the childlike goddess couldn't help but envision them.

And why was it that that image was so horribly attractive?

At that moment, more than anything else, Athena wanted to materialize her scythe and simply cut the goddess of love and beauty down. That would solve so many of her problems, or at least let her bury them good and deep until she was ready to deal with them.

The only problem with that idea was that firstly Venus was protected by the pact that she had sworn with the two Divine Ancestors. Secondly was the fact that if she were to use that much of her power she would almost certainly alert her prey to her presence here. And lastly there was the fact that she wasn't entirely sure she could successfully pull it off. Her fellow Greek goddess might not be a warrior by nature, but that didn't change the fact that in her own way she was one of the most dangerous deities one could encounter.

But her words were an insult, no; they were an affront to her very nature. She was Athena and though she had changed over the ages one thing had remained constant about her through all that time, she was a maiden goddess, one untouched by the hands of a lover. Neither man nor woman had ever known her body and yet now Venus suggested that she held . . . desire for this young King in her heart?

It took a great deal of effort not to allow her emotions to show on her face, despite the similarities between them her and Venus had always been only a step or two away from being true enemies. Their cores, their basic natures, were simply too dissimilar and naturally clashed. Even when they had found themselves as part of the same pantheon they had done their best to simply stay out of each other's way, and even then they had often come into conflict.

The Trojan wars were one example of how that conflict had grown out of hand.

Drawing upon every scrap of dignity she possessed the childlike goddess faced her more mature fellow deity and locked eyes with her, their gazes clashing like duelling swords.

"I do not care what you think Kusanagi Godou is to me," As she spoke Athena's voice was calm and level, yet within that mild tone was steel, and that steel was cold as ice and hot as an inferno, "He is my prey, the foe that I have chosen to face as soon as my power has been restored. For now our mutual allies mean that we may not clash without breaking our oaths, but he is mine to do with as I choose, do not interfere."

Damn, she hadn't meant to say so much, quite frankly that was the most that she'd said in a single go for months now. It was just typical of Venus to be able to get under her skin like this.

Deciding that there was no point to continuing this any further Athena transformed herself into a flurry of owls and departed the rooftop.

Behind her the sounds of a quiet tinkling laugh followed her.


-()-


Venus watched the fallen goddess depart and allowed herself a small laugh. Really it was so absurd that it couldn't help but amuse.

Athena had never been someone that she got on with, she was so stuffy and boring, very little fun. Also she stood as something of a living insult to the core of Venus's nature as a goddess of love. She was a woman that had never taken a lover and had seemed a direct slight to the goddess of love. All the other gods had known love, or at least lovers, even Artemis who had sworn to be an eternal virgin had known the embrace and passion of the nymphs that were her attendants. But not the goddess of war and craft, Athena had never known a lover though she had been propositioned by many heroes, gods and spirits.

It was odd to see her now taking an interest in a young man, but it was even more interesting to see her getting her own emotions all confused in her own mind.

Athena had never been in love, indeed she had never even been attracted to anyone romantically before. However this young man had somehow managed to slip past her defences by accident and now the fallen goddess didn't know how to understand the emotions she felt. In the end she was trying to rationalize her interest in him by regarding him as a foe to fight, that was something that she could understand, something she could handle. Having that rational firmly lodged in her mind it was unlikely that she would acknowledge the truth of her feelings unless they were shoved right into her face.

For a brief moment Venus contemplated using one of her Authorities upon the young man to ensure that he would romantically pursue Athena. To be sure he was a Devil King and as such resistant to the effects of her powers, but even other gods had succumbed to her Authorities in the end, even Eros himself was not immune to his own powers after all. The thought brought a smile to her lips as did the thought of Athena's inevitable panic and confusion, however in the end it was only a thought.

To ensure that her powers affected a child of Pandora she would need to bring all the strength of her Authorities to bear. That meant that if she interfered with this young King then she would not have enough strength left to affect her true target once she found him.

Resting her elbows on the ledge of the roof she gazed down just as Athena had a few minutes ago.

So, that was the young man that had caught her fellow goddess's heart? Well she supposed she could see some of his appeal, he seemed like one of those young men that had a large heart, the kind of fellow that would readily come to another's aid. Probably something of a bumbling knight in shining armour if she was any judge. And of course given that he was a God Slayer that meant that he was also strong, probably stubborn too as well as brave.

All in all she could understand how such a one could interest Athena; however he was not to her own tastes.

That brought a smile to her lips as she contemplated the one who was the object of her own search. Emiya Shirou was something of an enigma if the information that the pair of Divine Ancestors had provided her with was anything to go by. It seemed to be impossible to pin him down since he kept on doing the most unexpected things. Still he was certainly interesting and he seemed to have one aspect that Venus had always found to be most appealing.

War.

In all her incarnations Venus had always had a certain fascination for those that bathed in violence and bloodshed, indeed in her earliest form, as the goddess Ishtar, she had herself been a deity of violence and lust. As the ages past that aspect of the warrior had been lost to her personally, but her link to it had remained. In a way there was a certain symmetry to her fascination, after all she was always closely associated to beauty and lust, and such drives were most often where new life began. By contrast violence and war were the great takers of life, the enders of it. When looked at from that perspective it wasn't so surprising that she had been drawn to great warriors like Gilgamesh or gods of war like Ares or Mars.

And interestingly enough she could see those elements in the eighth child of Pandora. It was an illusive thing, more like an impression than an established fact, but Venus was used to listening to her hunches and intuitions and they had served her well in the past before.

This boy had come out of nowhere and slain three gods in less than a week. He'd then come to this land in the Far East and turned his new dwelling into a veritable fortress if the report was to be believed. His sister had supposedly slaughtered the cultist that had led the attempt to kidnap her and had then gone on to take the entire cult over and turn them into her servants. And of course there was the simple fact that he had faced and slain Mordred, a god of remarkable power and ego.

To her all these things pointed to a single conclusion. Emiya Shirou was no stranger to battle and bloodshed, indeed he had probably been intimately familiar with them before he even took up arms against a god. Oh he seemed to have some of the trappings of civilization to him, such as the desire to aid others and to avoid conflict where he could, but she was certain that underneath that there was some deeply hidden bloodlust.

Simply put that was just what she liked.

Deciding it was time for her to make her own exit the goddess of beauty and love seemed to burst into a flock of white doves just as Athena had become owls a short time before.

Soon after the roof stood empty.


-()-


Shirou lay on his back and allowed himself to simply drift.

It was odd really, even though it was late summer he hadn't really been taking as much advantage of the fact that he owned his own swimming pool as he would have expected. He supposed the simple truth was that half the time he forgot it was there. The sheer idea the he actually owned this huge manor was sometimes . . . unreal to him.

Oh sure he lived in it, but in all truth out of the more than three dozen rooms that were set up in various places throughout his mansion he himself only ever used a bare handful. His room, the study, the library, the kitchen and the dining room. That was it, well apart from his workshop and the dojo of course. In a way if he behaved like that then it was almost as though he were living back in his old house, Kiritsugu's house.

It was . . . nice that the manor was becoming livelier as time went by. Those first few days when it had been just him, Illya and Yusuke had been a bit on the unsettling side, as if their lives were somehow getting lost in this largely empty building. However soon afterwards Kaida and Manaka had come to join them, then he'd called up Asuka and then finally had been all of Illya's newly acquired 'minions'. Bit by bit the manor had filled more and more until it no longer felt empty.

Looking up through the plexiglass ceiling of the building that housed the swimming pool Shirou gazed at the moon in the night sky.

It was odd to feel so introspective, he honestly hadn't really thought about just when this place had changed from being somewhere to live to being the place that he now unconsciously called home. Still it was now where he lived, where he ate, where he slept, where he worked, in a way it was hardly a surprise that he would come to think of it as home. Even so though, as a home it wasn't yet complete.

It was missing several people before it would be complete, they wouldn't even have to stay, so long as they could visit it would be enough.

Sakura.

Rin.

Even Rider.

What was it about just floating like this that let his mind wander onto such a melancholic path? Maybe it was the quiet, the feeling of gentle serenity that came from his solitary-

"CANNONBALL!"

The eighth Campione, the King of Steel himself, had just enough time for one undignified squawk of shock before a small figure curled up into a ball suddenly came crashing down into the water only a few feet off to his left. Any kind of serene contemplation vanished as the resulting wave washed over him and sent him spluttering into the no longer calm waters of the pool.

He came up quickly and found he'd drifted into the deeper end of the pool meaning that he had to tread water rather than stand up. A quick glance around showed that Illya was now in the swimming pool with him, though she was being careful to stay up in the shallow end since her education in the far north hadn't included any chance to learn how to swim. Right now she was wearing a light pink one piece bathing suit and had a big smile on her face.

Why was it that he could sense a hostile assassin or hit man with the skills that he'd inherited from Archer, yet Illya could constantly sneak up on him without him noticing a thing?

"Well onii-chan? You promised that you'd teach me how to swim. So, come on."

Oh, yes, that was true. That was a promise that she'd managed to extract from him in exchange for her giving him a bit of extra tuition in some aspects of Magecraft that he'd been shaky on. Well, now was as good a time as any he supposed. Glancing up he checked the large clock that was on one of the walls and ideally placed so that all could see it. Right now it was just about ten past nine in the evening, which should give him about an hour to give her a few pointers before they had to get out. After all tomorrow was a school day and he'd promised himself that he'd be heading to bed early tonight.

A couple of strokes from his arms brought him over to the shallower waters and pretty soon he could feel the tiles under his feet.

"So you decided to join me?" he commented as he slowly drew nearer to his adopted sister, "I thought that you were going to spend all evening fiddling around with your Mystic Code."

On hearing that the cheerful smile left the snowy haired girl's face and was replaced by a decidedly stormy look.

"Yes, I thought so too, but I had an epiphany while I was checking over the synchro materials for the fifth time."

As she spoke Illya began to bounce slightly as she apparently enjoyed the somewhat weightless sensation that came with being in a pool.

"Everything was just right, I've checked it all over several times over and there're no flaws in the formula, no corruption of the components, no impurities in the materials, no nothing. So if there is nothing wrong with my Mystic Code then that must mean that it is in fact working perfectly."

There was a pleased smile on her face now as she explained her reasoning.

"But . . . wasn't there another false alarm earlier this evening?" Shirou asked carefully as he eyed the slightly too wide smile on his adopted sister's face.

"No, that's what they want you to think," Illya explained, her eyes bright, "My Mystic Code is working just fine, so if it isn't getting false signals then that must mean that the signals it's been getting aren't false."

"Errr . . . what?"

"The signals say that a god keeps appearing and disappearing right? Well that must be what's happening. I think that some deity is slipping in and out of the Netherworld. Every time it comes out then my Mini City Guide gets set off, but as soon as it retreats back to the Netherworld then the signal cuts off and my Mystic Code thinks that it's had a false reading."

That made Shirou blink. He'd been afraid that Illya had overworked herself trying to find the flaw in her work, but this explanation for why her miniature golden city was suddenly getting set off sounded much more plausible than what he had been expecting. Still it was also a bit disconcerting if it was true. It would mean that there was some sort of Heretic God that was constantly popping back and forth between these two planes of existence for reasons that he had no way of knowing.

Bah, he didn't have the energy to worry about that now, today had been a pretty long one and quite frankly he just wanted to unwind a bit now. Whatever this god was doing it seemed that at least for the time being it was relatively harmless. Tomorrow he could take a note of all the places where it had appeared and see if there was some sort of pattern, but for now he wanted to deal with something a little less stressful.

And teaching Illya how to swim would be just what he needed right now.

"Okay then, take my hands," Shirou said as he held his arms out. Blushing slightly his adopted sister took hold of his hands in a firm grip, "Alright, now when I say 'go' start kicking against the water. Don't worry about sinking, I'll be right here."

As his adopted sister started to noisily splash about as she tried to find the best way to kick Shirou let his mind drift back to what he'd write in his journal to Sakura later this evening. There were a fair number of things to mention, but he'd definitely have to make sure to tell her how much he missed her.


-()-


Plots were spun, plans were made.

Hopes were held, problems considered.

And above them all silently, invisibly, the Storm continued to gather.


Omake: Not a Good Servant.

Kayneth Archibald El-Melloi was a man that had never really known adversity. Oh, he had worked hard in his studies and pushed himself in his experiments, but ultimately his wealth and talent allowed him to overcome any hurdles he encountered with the absolute minimum of difficulty.

Sadly this had also led to him becoming a cruel, selfish arrogant man utterly unaware of his own failings and possessed of an enormous entitlement complex. To him the world simply existed in order to provide him with a happy life.

The current situation was an excellent example; the heir to the Archibald family had been selected as one of the Masters of the Holy Grail War and was approaching it as he had everything else in his life. Granted there had been a hitch along the way due to his intended Summoning Catalyst having been stolen by one of his students, but he was confident that he could overcome this difficulty.

In the normal timeline Kayneth would have summoned the Heroic Spirit Diarmuid of the Love Spot using a substitute catalyst and then gone on to approached the War as though it were any other Mage Duel. In time his own failings in understanding the true nature of the brutal contest that he was a part of would combine with his poor abilities as a master to spell his end. He would die with his body and magic crippled, his fiancée dead and in despair at the ruin his life had become.

However in this world a change had been made, the magus noble had decided to forgo the use of a catalyst and simply use himself instead. His reasoning being that since he was clearly the most superior master then if he simply allowed the Grail to call the Servant most matched to him then that logically meant that he would summon the most superior Servant.

Now the ritual had been completed, the circle design that he had inscribed had lit up with mystic light and now he could see a form manifesting amidst the light.

The first thing that he noticed when the light faded was the clothes; they were of eastern design, one that was clearly oriental. Then he saw the way that the clothes hugged the figure's body and he realized that the figure was that of a female, a beautiful example of womanhood, but a female none the less.

A woman and an oriental.

As with most members of the Clock Tower Keyneth bore a certain level of racial contempt for those of oriental blood regarding them as inferior in almost all ways. Of course when looked at rationally this prejudice was rather absurd given that the only wielder of True Magic in the current generation was Japanese, a nationality shared by the infamous Magus Killer. Also he possessed a certain level of sexism that was rather odd given the respect that he held for the young heir to the Barthomeloi family.

Simply put his newly summoned Servant had already disappointed him.

Well, if this was what he had summoned then this was what he was going to have to work with. Opening his mouth the magus prepared to address his Servant but found himself cut off as she spoke first.

"So, this is King Shirou's home world? Interesting." Turning she looked first at Keyneth and then at his fiancée Sola-Ui.

"It would appear that my vassals in this war are of poor quality to not be properly observing propriety. Why are you two so shamelessly staring upon me and standing there? Bow down and avert your eyes until this Luo Hao grants you leave to look at her."

The absolute certainty with which she spoke was enough to leave the heir to the Archibald family speechless. How dare she? How dare she? She was but a Servant, it was her purpose to serve him and aid him win the Holy Grail in the hope that when his inevitable victory came about he would deign to allow her to have her wish granted. Yet she dared speak to him as though he were a common Servant?

"Oh, it would seem that rather than a single vassal I have two. Good, this is suitable for a King such as myself; it is a suitable recognition of my status."

"Who-who are you?"

It seemed that Sola-Ui had managed to regain her voice enough to ask the obvious question. Hopefully learning this Servant's true identity would provide a means by which she could be reined in.

"Hear my words and engrave them into your memories," the lovely young woman declared, "My surname is Luo, with the given name Cuilian, and style name Hao. The pinnacle of all martial arts and the only one worthy to be called the Ruler of the Martial Realm. I have been summoned as the Lancer of this minor contest, though before my martial splendour such a classification is meaningless."

Well, that told him nothing. He knew of no warrior women called Luo . . . Hao or Cuilian or whatever she was calling herself. It seemed that he'd have to show her what her place was by himself without relying upon any background knowledge.

However just as he was about to open his mouth in order to deliver a blistering rebuttal his Servant was suddenly in front of him.

"Such disrespectful thoughts, clearly I have been forced to work with inferior material for this War. No matter though as I have been granted a spare vassal that means that I can afford to spare one as a form of education to the other."

Did she just threaten him?

Red started to tint his sight as Kayneth tried his best to keep his mounting anger under control. This was utterly intolerable; this pathetic slave seemed to have no understanding of her proper place. Well, he had the means to change that, he had the means to force this arrogant wench to grovel before him. The Command Seals allowed for absolute commands, well then he would-

His thoughts were cut off as he was suddenly sent hurtling back by a terrible impact to his forehead. There was a crash as he impacted upon a table, then a few moments of disorientation as he tried to regather his scattered wits. In the background he could hear his fiancée's voice raised in concern, however the vast majority of his attention was focused on the headache that he was quickly developing.

"I am well aware of those marks that you carry," the sound of Lancer's musical voice broke through his thoughts and seized his attention. "However do not think that I shall allow such things to be used upon this Luo Cuilian."

Suddenly Kayneth felt a sudden surge of Prana from his Servant and his eyes opened very wide. That was Magecraft. To be sure it was a style that he was unfamiliar with, but it was definitely Magecraft on a level he had never witnessed before. Any other thoughts were cut off as the Prana settled about the hand that had the Command Seals embedded upon it.

"That should ensure that there will be no mischief from you using them until I have properly educated you as to your proper place under my command. Now, you girl. Inform me as to our present location and what preparations you and this other one have arranged for this War."

As the beautiful oriental Servant strode imperiously from the room with Sola-Ui hesitantly following her a single thought dominated Kayneth's somewhat shaky thoughts.

Maybe using that Catalyst would have been a better idea.