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.

Well, I'd like to start this chapter by saying that I'm a bit miffed that all the translations of the Campione light novels that I normally use have been taken down, and that's made it a bit more difficult to get this chapter done. I mean if they'd taken them down because an official translation that you could buy in the stores had come out then I'd understand it, but until then they should let fans like me actually have something to read so long as we aren't taking their revenue. Ah well, I guess I'll just have to rely on memory. Still, if anyone knows of any surviving translations please let me know since it would be quite the help in my writing.

Things ran on a bit longer than planned, but more about that in the spoilers below. On to another subject; I've decided to start planning the upcoming sixth Holy Grail War, even though it'll be a while until I get there. Still, getting some of the future plot points fixed in my head makes current writing a bit easier I've found, staves off the demons of writer's block to some degree. As such if anyone wants to make some suggestions as to which Servants can be brought into play feel free to let me know.

My plan is for the war to have at least twelve different Servants involved, but no more than twenty at the absolute most. At least two will be masterless and one must be strong enough to seriously take the place of 'last boss'. Aside from that nothing is really set in stone yet. Shirou might have a Servant, or he might arrive too late to get in on the war and end up as an ally to Rin or Sakura. If he does get a Servant he might end up calling Saber again, but as of yet I'm not sure if he'd get 'true' Saber or the Saber Alter that he fought to get to Sakura at the end of the Heaven's Feel route. Maybe summon Hercules as another class, something to surprise Illya, or even bring Iskander back into play again. Waver might end up conscripted as a Master once more, if there's a shortage of suitable candidates. Having him teamed up with someone other than the King of Conquerors could be interesting.

Anyway, if you have a suggestion please feel free to let me know, though I would appreciate the reason for your idea as well as the suggestion itself. Once again I can't guarantee that your idea will be used, but I promise to give it all due consideration.

SPOILERS!

You know, when I started writing this chapter it was my intention to make it all the way to the end of the fight between Shirou and Alex. I had the main confrontation planned out in my head and all I had to do was write the bit to get there. Originally I planned that to be only the first seven or eight thousand words of the chapter, then I'd get to the real fighting. However as I wrote more and more I realized that there were bits that needed to be included if I didn't want the story to be missing parts. I'm sure there are some readers that would have preferred it if I'd skipped straight through to the main action, but I felt that if I did I'd end up skipping many important parts that lent the story the flavour that I've come to enjoy writing.

Sorry if I sound like I'm preaching or making excuses, but that's really how I like to write.

Well, this chapter sees the reveal of Lancelot in her true form. I brought it forwards to a bit earlier than in canon due to me feeling that this was a good point at which to do it, but also because I'd gotten sick of writing 'him' in that way all the time. Perhaps not the most noble of reasons, but I work with what I've got.

I think a few readers might have a bit of a problem with how I've depicted Alex controlling the battlefield so well, but I do think it's in keeping with his character design. Shirou is a bit more of a dynamic, or if you prefer Shonen type, character. As my story has gone along I've tried to depict him maturing into a more thoughtful type, but at his base he is quite action oriented. By contrast Alex is depicted not as someone that goes looking for a fight but rather as someone that draws the enemy into a trap. With him going after Guinevere it really seemed likely to me that he'd carefully evaluate all her potential allies and advantages, then devise ways to eliminate them in one way or another. Shirou is a massive complication, but all Alex needs to do is keep him out of the ways for a short time, something I think is within his capabilities.

What it comes down to is a case of circumstance. Shirou is eager to save Guinevere whilst Alex is both cold blooded and meticulous. He's also, at least as far as scheming and planning goes, smarter than Shirou. In the end these are all factors that favour Alex and make him more likely to come out on top in the scenarios depicted in this chapter.

Don't worry though, pretty soon things aren't going to be going nearly as smoothly as he'd like. Heh heh heh . . .

Once more I would like to offer my sincerest thanks to my Beta for all his help in getting this chapter all shipshape for release. Rest assured that without his patience and help you'd all be reading something decidedly inferior to what you're getting.


Chapter Thirty: Setting the Pieces

(Are you certain of taking this course? Once this knight has made his descent then there will be no return for him.)

Guinevere stood on the small jetty and gazed down into the waters of the lake behind her base of operations. She hadn't been expecting to return to this location, she'd pretty much abandoned it after she moved into King Emiya's home, but when she'd left it she'd taken steps to ensure that it wouldn't be occupied by others before she was ready to give up on it completely. The spells she'd laid had done their jobs and nobody had entered it, her possessions had been completely undisturbed.

She hadn't really wanted to return here. If all truth were to be told then she'd have preferred to have returned to the eighth Campione's manor, though she hadn't been there long she had had time to prepare a small workshop, one that had been surprisingly well equipped despite it's rather recent construction. While most of it had been old artefacts and equipment brought in by her some of it had been newly produced while she was a guest in the manor. Those creations had been made using the materials that King Emiya had graciously granted her when she'd asked, materials that even the finest jewellers and smiths in the past centuries would have been unable to produce. Indeed, even with modern techniques it was incredibly difficult to gain such materials. Silver, gold, platinum, all of them in any form that she needed and all possessing an unearthly level of purity, one that not even her spells would allow her to emulate.

The witch queen of Britannia didn't normally practice alchemy. She was aware of its uses and had some knowledge of it, but for the most part her magic and goals never really required the use of such magic. Still, the precious metals given to her by King Emiya, the ones that she knew were produced by his Authority, they had opened up options to her that she'd never had before, options that she had immediately taken advantage of. Her creations hadn't been of monumental proportions, but their sheer utility had been of considerable interest, in a way it could be said that she'd built a better tool to create even better tools later.

Well, whatever the case it wasn't relevant any more. She had cut her ties to the King of Steel and had returned to her old home to plan her next move.

She knew where she had to go; the newly risen island in Tokyo bay had to be it, the resting place of her long lost King. All of her careful research had led her to this land in the Far East, the last place where her King had exerted his power, so this had to be the land where he had returned to the Earth's embrace in order to regain his strength. The problem had been that she'd been utterly unable to locate his exact resting place. Not only had her King taken precautions to conceal himself, but the gods and mystics of this land had also taken their own steps to ensure that his sleep would be long and undisturbed.

The sealing of the Great Sage Equal to Heaven had been performed with that in mind. The Monkey King had been bound into a spell of such divine power that even a potent god like him had been held by it, all for the purpose of subduing any dragons that appeared before their presence could cause her beloved Artus to awaken.

More proof, more information. It had all piled up, but it hadn't given her the vital piece of information that she'd needed.

Where did the King that Appears at the End of the World sleep?

And now the answer to that question had been provided to her by her bitterest living foe. She was well aware that it could be none other than the Black Prince that had caused the island to rise, for all the dislike she had of the man she couldn't deny that he was quite brilliant in his own erratic way. In the past he'd managed to ferret out many secrets thought to be lost, all of them leading him on to further research and discoveries. As much as it vexed her she had to admit that if anyone was able to ascertain the location of her King before her, it would be him.

The problem was that since it had been the fourth Campione that had raised the island she sought to reach the chances that it was a trap were pretty much absolute.

This was bait that she knew would lead her into a confrontation with the Black Prince, but it was not a bait that she could resist. To reawaken Artus was the reason for her existence, to not make the attempt was unthinkable. So, given that she had to make the attempt, her thoughts had turned to trying to work out how to ensure that she would be successful. Alexander Gascoigne was a canny fighter, in many ways more dangerous than many of his fellow god slayers. He wouldn't charge into battle, rather he would draw his foe to a location that he had prepared, one that would afford him every advantage he could squeeze from it.

In their previous encounters Guinevere had seen several of his Authorities, enough that she had a vague notion of how they worked and the potential limits that governed them. If she was correct then many of them required certain conditions in order to manifest, or at least to manifest at full power, but she knew little of the fourth and fifth Authorities that he had gained in the time since their first meeting. Those were wild cards in this coming confrontation, random factors that might well be the end of her.

The battle lines were drawn, she wished to revive her King, he wished to dispose of her and to claim the Holy Grail for himself.

The problem was that as things stood the odds were considerably in his favour. Though she was a powerful Divine Ancestor and protected by her beloved knight, Alex was a Devil King. The aid of her protector might act as a shield that would enable Guinevere to evade or escape the Black Prince, but in a true battle where retreat was no longer an option . . . there the game was stacked against her.

That was what led her to this place, to gaze into the waters of the small lake as the light of the rising sun filled the world about her.

"Guinevere sees no other possible course," the golden haired immortal child admitted. "Even though Sir Knight has regained much of his lost strength and vigour to face a Devil King in pitched battle may be beyond you whist under the spell that binds you as Guinevere's protector."

There was a pause as the armoured figure stared back at her from the surface of the water.

(This is a step that might be too far,) the Knight of the Lake intoned, (This knight is content in his duty, in the role of protector of his most beloved child. In recent days I have drawn great pleasure and satisfaction from the time that has been spent with Sir Shirou, but even that has been as nothing to the heady joy of battle. If this knight should take this step, to become Heretic and rebel against his legend, then I may well become drunk upon that joy. If that happens then even beloved Guinevere might not be safe from this knight, not when he seeks to once more charge across the work wielding his lance and trampling foes beneath his steed's hooves.)

"Guinevere feels no fear that Sir Knight will fail in his duty," the immortal child declared, "Sir Knight is the greatest knight of all, never would he lose to simple battle lust. Sir Knight will overcome it and steadfastly stand at Guinevere's side, in that I have absolute faith."

There wasn't a hint of uncertainty in her voice, only rock solid belief. To Guinevere the sky was blue, water was wet, her King was her sun and Lancelot was her ally, these facts were as immutable as the pull of gravity.

(Ho ho, in the face of such a heartfelt declaration of trust what choice has this knight, but to descend upon the world of mortals? Await my coming, dear Guinevere; I shall be at your side before the sun completes its rise.)

The image of the armoured figure faded from the waters before her and left the witch queen of Britannia alone.

So she waited, and as she did so, she planned.

Sir Knight was a match for just about any god in the world, only those of truly exceptional power such as Artus or Mordred could outdo him, and even they would acknowledge the strength of his Steel. Heretic God Lancelot would be a powerful force, one that could well match the Black Prince in a fair fight and even win, but the fourth Campione didn't fight a fair battle if he could help it. That was the problem, though she had total faith in her protector Guinevere knew that even the finest of knight could be brought down by a cowardly and cunning blow.

What she needed were additional factors, wild cards that would allow her to overturn any advantages that Alexander Gascoigne might have set up for himself.

Extending her hand she focused her will and watched as dull red sparks of light condensed into the form of Rhongomyniad. As the spear settled into her grip she allowed herself a brief moment to luxuriate in the feel of her King's power in it. The feeling might be . . . changed from what she could remember, but it was certainly familiar.

This was a possible trump, wielding the spear had increased her protector's strength while 'he'd' been in an incomplete state, enough that 'he'd' been able to land a sudden and severe wound upon Jord. With 'his' full strength returned to 'him' how much stronger might it be able to make 'him'?

But sadly it was unlikely to come as a complete surprise to the Black Prince, as much as she might dislike him Guinevere would never deny his capability, no doubt he had been keeping a careful watch on her actions ever since she had shown herself during the Feast of the Four Kings. If that was so then he certainly knew of the gift the King of Steel had given her, and he would also be aware of how Sir Knight had used it against Jord. While the exact nature of the spear would be unknown he'd be able to guess at its general abilities, enough that the weapon alone wasn't enough.

She also had her own final trump card, the one that she'd only play when all other options were exhausted. By giving up her immortality and transforming into a dragon she could temporarily regain her lost power as a deity, the lost power of an Earth Mother. The regaining of that power was temporary though, once the change ended so would her life, and it would be decades at least before she resurrected once more.

It was a risky gamble, but if she combined her strength with that of Lancelot then the two of them might be able to overwhelm Prince Alec. However that suffered the same problem as did Rhongomyniad in that it was something he was aware of and would undoubtedly plan for. She needed something different, unexpected, something she had never used before.

Something unprecedented.

A plan began to form in her mind, something that she'd contemplated in the past, but which she had never had the resources or need to do. The Sword of Divine Salvation was her King's weapon, but though it belonged to him that didn't mean that others couldn't wield it. In the past he had bestowed the weapon upon his followers in times of need allowing them to share in his strength. King Shirou's inexplicable ability to use Excalibur despite not being tied to her King aside, there was one other way to use it. To be sure her King currently slept, but as his sworn handmaiden she did have some small authority over it.

Turning from the lake the golden haired child immortal strode across the jetty until she stood upon the turf of the manor's lawn. This wasn't the ideal location to do this, she knew. The best place to do this would have been somewhere old; somewhere the presence of human civilization had only touched lightly. Ancient forests or long abandoned battlegrounds would have been ideal, but as time was a precious commodity Guinevere decided to exercise force over finesse.

Her hands extended before her as she felt the grass beneath her, beneath that was the soil, and beneath that there was denser dirt, gravel, stone, the skin of the earth. The blonde immortal poured her magic into it, reaching out even as she spoke words to a spell that she alone could invoke. In truth it wasn't really a spell, it was something older, more primal, something that in a mortal would have been a prayer, but when backed by a Divine Ancestor . . .

"Spirits of the earth who have accepted my blessing, hear my words and answer my plea! Return to me what is mine, return to me what I have kept! Offer up the treasure of the Witch Queen!"

The task was hard, harder than she'd expected it to be, as the earth drank in her power as the spirits within it moved to answer her request. Long seconds ticked by as the drain on her reserves continued. A thin trickle of sweat ran down her right temple as her hands began to shake ever so slightly.

Then the ground before her split open and the object of all her efforts rose up before her.

To all appearances the artefact that she reverently took into her hands was a very long double edged sword, or at least it had been in some ancient time. Now the sword was a ruin of its former self, worn, rusted and corroded to the point of being little more than a piece of scrap in the shape of a sword. Any who saw it would have dismissed it a worthless trash.

But they would have been wrong.

Despite its decrepit state this sword had once been the weapon of her King. To be more accurate, once upon a time the sword she held had been Excalibur.

It was not entirely accurate to say that the sword itself was the weapon of legend; Excalibur was an Authority and didn't truly have a physical form that could be picked up and passed around. The sword of Divine Salvation was an existence that transcended that, yet at the same time when it was wielded it did have a physical presence. What she held now could be described as the . . . remnant of Excalibur, or perhaps a relic of a former avatar. Ever since the sword's wielder had disappeared from the surface of the earth his swords power had done likewise, leaving its physical form to sink into the earth, lost its lustre and fallen into this decrepit state.

But Guinevere could do something about that.

As a hand maiden to the King of the End a number of tasks were hers to perform. She was the mistress and attendant of the Holy Grail, charged with filling the sacred vessel with power that could later be used by her king or herself in his aid. She was the ward of his knight and so served to aid Lancelot during their search even as 'he' protected her. And it was her duty to polish the Sword of Divine Salvation.

It was not a duty essential to the weapon, indeed it could function perfectly well without her, but her attentions did lend it a certain enhancement, a marked improvement that her King had in time come to appreciate.

Gifting Excalibur to another, even one that had already wielded it in the past as Lancelot had, was beyond her ability. What she could do was create an avatar of the sword, not the true article, but something that did possess its power and could grant that power to another to use. It wasn't the equal of the true Sword of Divine Salvation, but then was there anything that really was?

At the back of Guinevere's mind a treacherous thought reminded her of the field where she had been saved by Sir Shirou, of the impossible sword that slew Mordred. It reminded her of the battle of the Three Kings, where Sir Shirou held a blackened and corrupted power that could only be Excalibur. It reminded her of the island she'd been on just a few days ago, of the majesty that had thundered to the sky of its peerless power. He had held Excalibur, changed or twisted though it might have been it was Excalibur . . . so what did that mean?

With a shake she dismissed the thought. King Emiya's relationship to her King remained a true enigma, but it was one that could be solved simply by speaking to Artus once he had reawakened. Up until now it had been a complex clue, but now that she knew where her King slept it was of lesser importance. What was of greater import was ensuring that her protector was suitably armed for the battle that was to come.

Taking the desiccated sword in her arms with almost reverent care she called on her magic to bring certain items from her workshop to her. Under other circumstances the best approach to awakening the power of the sword would have involved a more lengthy ritual which would have required the sword to be buried in the earth so that like its master it could have absorbed strength in preparation for its revival. Sadly that wasn't an option for her now, not with what could be Avalon so close and yet so vulnerable. If Alexander Gascoigne were to be kept waiting too long he might well use whatever method he'd used to raise the isle to once more sink it. If, as Guinevere suspected, the island wasn't merely a physical existence, but something of a more ethereal nature then it might well drift away and be lost to her after it was once again sunk. To be sure she might be able to find it again using her own magic and resources, but she was unwilling to gamble the best possibility she come across in decades on a 'might'.

So she gathered the items she needed, powerful reagents that would let her substitute her own strength for the time she didn't have to spare. Taking the sword in her hands Guinevere carefully drove it into the soft earth of the lawn until it was in deep enough that she could let it go without fearing it would fall over. As soon as she was secure in that it wouldn't tip over in the middle of her ritual she stepped back and took the time to carefully double check her reagents, just to be certain everything was in order. Finding that there was no cause for concern there she took a deep breath and began.

"Oh Steel of the King, I beseech you to awaken from your long slumber!"

Simple words, but they were spoken with power. In answer to her call power answered her own, but the response was sluggish, that of something rousing itself from sleep and not yet being at its best.

The Witch Queen had anticipated this though, and at her gesture three thick bars of precious metal floated from her side and came down to form a triangle about the old sword. At another gesture all three melted as though composed of mercury and ran in liquid form before solidifying into a number of mystic designs.

Silver, gold, platinum, each of the three 'royal' precious metals of the world and each of a purity that surpassed what could normally be found in the mortal plane. Guided by Guinevere's will the precious materials acted as magnifiers for her spell, intensifying the power she was calling up. Under other circumstances this wouldn't have been enough to compensate for the loss of time, but the Witch Queen was a magic user beyond human equal, just as the reagents she was using were beyond the mortal norm.

"More dazzling than gold, more pristine than silver, that is what you are!"

Taking hold of her last reagent with both hands Guinevere pushed her magic into the artefact and, with great care, shattered it.

"Born from the ashes of the dragon's skeleton is the dragon slaying Steel, that is what you are!"

The powdered pieces of the dragon fragment that she'd just shattered were caught in a wind only they could feel and were drawn down towards the sword. The fragment had been a trophy of hers for decades, a potent magic aid that many a mortal mage would have been willing to saw their own limbs off one by one in order to obtain. To her it had been a useful tool with which to augment important spells, but now its destruction served a more important purpose.

Steel was the natural enemy of dragons. Heroes of Steel would naturally seek out the snakes and dragons that other deities could become and slew them. Excalibur was in many ways the absolute pinnacle of Steel, the mightiest Authority of the Strongest Steel. Its origin could be linked to the fall of dragons; therefore it could absorb the power of a remnant of such creatures in order to bolster its own depleted strength.

"The stars, the sun and the moon shall lose their brightness before you! All treasures shall lose their value before you! So please, I beseech you to awaken! Please let the girl that is your maidservant see your light once more!"

As she spoke the words the incalculably precious metals that made up the mystic signs blackened and crumbled into dust, the powder being sucked into the blade as the fragments of the dragon bone had been.

"Divine Sword of Salvation, Steel amongst Steel, the Witch Queen beseeches your divine self to revive!"

Completing her chant Guinevere raised her arms to the skies and implored the powerful Authority to heed her plea. She had made a connection, of that she was certain. She could feel the pull as more and more of her energy was being drawn out, but many times more was being drawn in from the earth and the atmosphere. The world itself seemed to have heeded her call and in response a truly enormous amount of energy was rising up in response.

And yet for all the power it was drinking in the sword stood stubbornly unchanged. More and more force flooded into it, power enough to cause the earth to quake, to make a volcano erupt, power enough to make the ocean rise up in a tsunami, and still it didn't change, didn't heal, didn't awaken.

Had she been wrong? Was she unable to force a reawakening in such a short amount of time? Did the blade need to spend more time in the earth before it was able to revive? No, her own research had been meticulous in preparation for an emergency like this, irregular though it was it should be within her abilities. But if that was the case then why-

Her speculations were cut of as a lightning bolt tore out of a perfectly clear sky and struck the impaled sword with enough force that Guinevere was blown off her feet and sent sprawling into the grass.

The impact wasn't really harmful, even though she was small of stature she was still an immortal, and she was back on her feet almost immediately. The spots that clouded her eyes on the other hand, took a few more moments to clear. However once she managed to blink them away a pleased smile grew on her face at the sight that greeted her.

The sword, which had been almost a metre in length, had now shrunk down to about half that size. However though smaller in stature the blade was now a pristine platinum and totally free of any sign of age or ruin. The hilt of the sword was also gone and only the blade of the sword remained, yet shrunken and reduced though it was the pure white blade radiated an aura of power that would have caused even a god to feel respect.

"A most fine weapon, this knight is pleased that his most precious child has been so successful in reviving our king's sword."

Turning in place Guinevere's smile only grew as she saw who had spoken to her. By the edge of the lake stood the white armoured forms of her knight and 'his' steed. In appearance there was no difference between the knight that had raced King Emiya and the knight that stood before her, but the aura that enveloped both mount and rider spoke of subtle but profound difference. There was energy there, a solidness, a firmness that her protector had previously lacked.

"Sir Knight should not be so quick to praise," she said in gentle admonishment, "The task is as yet only half finished, after all, what is a blade without a grip?"

"It is a blade still, merely one that should be handled with greater care."

Amusement tinged the knight's voice as Steadfast trotted closer to the childlike Witch Queen.

"Well, this blade shall have a handle," Guinevere declared, ignoring the gentle teasing of her guardian, "Mystic powers of the ancient oak, lend your strength to Sir Knight so that the chosen weapon of the Strongest Steel might once more be wielded!"

In response to her words the blade shot into the air as a length of oaken wood grew up from underneath it. For an instant it was as though a tree had suddenly sprung up from below it, but then the wood slowly smoothed out and straightened. In moments it no longer looked like a natural plant growth, but rather was a long shaft of polished oak wood at least six feet in length.

"With this . . . the Divine Lance Excalibur is born!" Guinevere declared huffing as though she had just been forced to run a marathon.

"Ho ho ho, a most fine development," Declared Lancelot as the weapon floated out of the earth and drifted towards the horse and rider, "Excalibur was ever a most magnificent weapon, but this knight always preferred the lance to the sword. This is a most touching gesture, and this knight is most grateful."

"With this in Sir Knight's hands as well as King Emiya's generous gift Guinevere is sure that you will emerge triumphant in any battle with the Black Prince!" The blonde Divine Ancestor declared proudly as one hand brushed away a droplet of sweat from her temple.

The newly created divine lance drew closer to the Knight of the Lake, yet despite the nearness of a weapon that any warrior god would have been willing to give up an eye to wield the mounted knight did not reach for it.

Instead 'his' hands came up to grasp the sides of 'his' helmet. For a moment Guinevere was unsure of just what her protector was doing, then her eyes widened as she heard the squeal of metal being crushed and torn.

"Sir Knight?"

"This knight . . . this Lancelot . . . one has grown tired of this armour!"

The announcement caught the Queen of the Divine Ancestors completely by surprise. Whatever answer she'd been expecting that hadn't been it, she was also surprised by the sudden shift in her protector's voice and speech manner. The deep male tone was gone, replaced by a feminine voice that could almost be the very sound of spring. It was a voice that Guinevere hadn't heard in her entire existence, but whose memory she had inherited from the goddess that had been her previous incarnation millennia ago. The voice was cool and fresh, it was the voice that one would expect a gentle breeze that gusted across an open meadow of wildflowers to use were it able to talk

"Sir . . . Knight?"

The white metal of the helm was now visibly cracking under the pressure being applied to it, in the next instant the divine metal lost the battle against the power of the being that had created it and shattered in a manner more fitting for porcelain than to metal.

The helmet's destruction revealed the face beneath, that of a beautiful young woman with shaggy hair the colour of golden honey with a short plaited braid falling from each temple and eyes like two chips of the spring sky. Her face was beautiful, but it was a beauty that even one with decades of life such as Guinevere hadn't seen before. This wasn't the innocent beauty that she possessed, nor was it the effortlessly sensual gorgeousness that the likes of Tiamat wore with the ease of a shawl. It wasn't the classical loveliness that King Emiya's servant Kaida possessed nor was it the pure animal magnetism that Venus had radiated like heat from an inferno.

This was the beauty of purity, an otherworldliness that was at once comforting and daunting. This was the true face of Lancelot du Lac.

"Why . . . why does Sir Knight shed his- I mean, her armour?"

Reaching over the goddess of Steel began to tear off other pieces of armour even as she answered the question of her charge.

"One is . . . tired of this. For so long one wore her armour until it became a second skin. One's legend has changed over the centuries until the very knowledge that one was a goddess was lost. Yet through it all one continued in her duty to guard the most precious child, to aid her in her attempts to revive our king and to protect the greatest witches in heaven and on earth during the precious child's absence. All of these duties were gladly taken and performed, even as the years passed and more of one's vitality and drive were lost because of the strangeness of one's situation.

"But now one is no longer tired, one's vigour and liveliness have restored to what they once were. No, they are greater even!"

More armour fell away, only to reveal closer and more form fitting armour beneath the heavy plates. A breastplate and cuirass, gauntlets, pauldrons, all exquisitely crafted and sized to their wearer. Even as they were revealed so did the armour worn by her steed also changed, becoming lighter, though still remaining strong. All about the rifer and mount was changed now; no longer did they feel as . . . heavy as they had. A burden had been shed, but their armour remained, indeed it had even grown.

In a single motion Lancelot swung her steel clad leg over and dismounted her horse. In response to the act her steed let out a sharp whinny, but a single hand placed on his neck calmed the mount with ease.

"Even Steadfast has grown beyond what he once was," the knight declared, an almost exultant grin on her face, "If one and the most beloved child are to once more face the Black Prince and awaken our true king from his long slumber then this knight wishes to do so in the guise that one wore so long ago."

Her expression shifted, growing less joyful and more teasing.

"Besides, if one were to encounter King Shirou again then perhaps this guise would be more suited to trying to . . . persuade him to ally with our side."

Guinevere was suddenly made aware that though her protector wore a breastplate and had a slender build she was none the less a woman grown, and a beautiful one as well.

"S-Sir Knight should not tease Guinevere thusly!" she admonished, though the outrage in her voice did little to hide the blush on her cheeks or the uneasy fidget in her hands.

"Oh, come now most precious," The honey blonde reached out and gently tousled the head of the Divine Ancestor, "One is not so cruel as to simply steal away the Devil King which her charge is so smitten with. One would make sure that King Shirou knew that this knight wishes to battle him. More . . . romantic pursuits can be left to the most precious child. Once she grows a little of course."

The smile faded from her face as she reached out to take the shaft of the newly create Lance Excalibur in one hand and the dark red shaft of Rhongomyniad in her other.

"Twin lances bearing the power of our king, and yet neither have ever been wielded by him in truth. There is some humour to be had in that thought, one feels."

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she scrutinized the shrunken Excalibur at the end of its oaken shaft.

"Though the beloved child has done a most admirable job in restoring life to the relic of our king one feels that it is but a temporary thing. Divine lance Excalibur is a powerful weapon, but it shall only last a short time, a mere handful of days at most."

"Guinevere is sure that it shall be sufficient!" the immortal child declared, "We shall make our attempt well within that time so that Sir Knight can be sure to have all strength available to hi- . . . I mean, to her."

"Very well then, this knight shall entrust herself to the plans of her dear charge."

No more words were needed after that, both immortals simply turned and began the short walk back to Guinevere's manor.


-()-


Homura found himself in a strange emotional state, one suspended midway between rampant anxiety and joyful euphoria.

His king had returned. More than that, Shirou-sama had come back to Japan and was making demands for the History Compilation Committee's aid. To be sure his demands were politely worded, but there was no mistaking that he expected them to be obeyed in short order.

Given that Kaida and Manaka, the Committee's normal points of contact with the eighth Campione, were still back in London the heads of the main families had decided to assign Homura and one of his subordinates to act as their liaisons with King Emiya. By this point it was well known that Homura was the nominal head and main driving force behind the 'pro-Emiya' faction that had sprung up, though his involvement in some of the more . . . forceful indications of opinion were still unproven. As such it had been only natural to grant him that task, though the former field agent had little doubt that he'd be shadowed by agents from the main families, just to ensure he didn't try to overstep his bounds.

Well, for now that was alright, if kept in his current position then he was willing to toe the line, for the time being at least. This was an opportunity that he simply couldn't ignore, the chance to serve the King to whom he had privately pledged his support and loyalty.

That was what led Homura to be here, standing at the main gate of the King of Steel's manor. The king had returned the night before, and after consulting with his servants and staff in the manor had contacted the Committee and informed them that their aid would be expected the next day. Glancing to the side the former field agent took in the form of Satoshi Kamiya, not the man that would have been his first choice for this assignment . . . or second, or third for that matter. Kamiya was a decent operative, but he was the kind of man you chose for a task that required a lot of sitting around and waiting for something to happen. His fellow agent's greatest strength was his sheer patience, a trait that let him spend hours staring at screens or locations without losing any of his concentration.

That all meant that though he wasn't a dull man, he also wasn't a man known for being . . . dynamic in his actions. He was solid, dependable, reliable, not fast, not wild, not unpredictable. Homura could understand why the heads of the family had gone to some trouble to make sure he'd be the one to accompany the former field agent on this assignment.

From their perspective Homura was a wild element that had been placed in a situation where he might very well either stabilize or explode. Most likely they hadn't even wanted him to be involved in this matter, but the influence he'd been gaining in the Committee had grown to the point where he couldn't be simply ignored. He might not be near the influence that the heads of the founding houses had, but even so enough people were accepting his truths that he could cause quite the schism in the organization if he pushed it. It was most likely their hope that having Kamiya along would act as a . . . counterbalance to Homura, enough to temper him.

Well, it wasn't as though he couldn't see their concerns, foolish though they were. The leaders of the Committee might not act as he wished, but he still respected them despite his frustrations. It was a paradox, he knew. On the one hand he sometimes found himself almost ranting about the foolish way that the heads of the main houses seemed to favour Kusanagi-sama over Emiya-sama, but on the other hand he also respected them for the way they and their families had skilfully handled their duties for centuries.

Well, all of that wasn't too relevant to his current situation.

And that situation was that he was currently waiting at the gate of his King's manor, or rather he was waiting at where the gate had once been. He'd seen pictures of how the gate had originally been; the Committee had performed some subtle reconnaissance in the early stages of their interactions with the eighth Campione. It hadn't been anything too overt since they hadn't been willing to tip their hand in regards to the new Devil King, but it had been enough to give them a general idea of what they were dealing with.

According to that report the gate as well as a great deal of the manor's grounds in general, had been enchanted with a number of spells of detection and traps. Though the composition of the spells were almost entirely alien to the agents that had investigated them their basic function had been possible to determine by those with the right skills and resources. Quite simply the manor had been turned into a fortress, one able to repel even a small army of determined mages, and that was merely when one took the purely mortal magic that had been brought to bear. When you included that Emiya Shirou had also used his Authorities to enhance that protection . . . well, gods and fellow Campione were really the only things left to be worried about.

Unfortunately it had been a fellow God Slayer that had attacked the manor in the King of Steel's absence.

One gate hung from a single hinge, its finely wrought metal design blackened and misshapen by some tremendous impact, yet defaced as it was it had faired better than the other. That one had been entirely torn away from its place in the manor's wall and had been broken into several parts that were scattered across the estate's drive.

Looking at the gate Homura couldn't help but wince. Spells enough to defend against an oncoming tank and yet they had been ripped apart with almost casual ease. It was a grim reminder that though he might hold Emiya-sama in the highest esteem he must never discount the power of his fellow Campione.

Any further thoughts were dismissed as he heard the crunch of gravel. Looking up from where the shredded gate laid Homura felt his heart pause for a moment as he saw the approaching form of the King of Steel himself.

Emiya Shirou didn't really look like a king; in fact there was something almost ordinary about him. Oh, he was tall for his age, and the red of his hair was unusual amongst Japanese youths, but there was no hint of the majesty and power that the former field agent had witnessed. Well, that wasn't truly needed, not now anyway. The recollection of that grandeur was engraved upon his heart, if his king wished to conceal his greatness then who was he to gainsay him?

With that thought in mind Homura resisted the impulse to fall to his knees as Emiya Shirou drew closer. Clearly the King of Steel was not standing on any sort of ceremony, so it was not Homura's place to force that kind of thing now.

"Are you the agents from the Committee?"

The question wasn't sharp or angry, but there was a definite sense of urgency behind it. No, perhaps urgency wasn't quit the right word to use. Tension might be more accurate, a feeling of barely controlled energy, like a bowstring that had been drawn and now trembled in anticipation of launching its arrow.

"Yes, your highness. We have been dispatched to serve as your aids until Kaida-sama and Manaka-san are able to retake their positions at your side."

And with any luck that would be long enough for the faction leader to convince the Devil King to see the wisdom of securing the Committee to serve him.

Yes, that was the best path he could hope for. Godou-sama clearly had no personal interest in taking t History Compilation Committee into his service, even if he did have a good working relation with them. Emiya-sama would be far more able to employ the organization to greatest effect, propelling them to greater heights of glory. In his minds eye Homura could see it, with the resources of the Committee married to the small empire of businesses that already served the King of Steel a foundation could be made upon which to build something even more titanic.

The image was vague, and if he was to be honest with himself he wasn't too sure of just why it compelled him so, but at the same time the former field agent knew it must be with all the fervour of a true believer.

It MUST!


-()-


Shirou resisted the urge to yawn as he looked at the two agents. Really, he had the literal vitality of a god and even so he had a hard time shaking off the trailing edges of sleep. Still, he supposed he had good reason to feel tired. Even if it had been Snow that had been doing the flying the winged horse had drawn his strength from his master's power. On top of that even if the pegasus had been flying at speeds normally only achievable by top of the line military aircraft it had still taken quite some time to cross most of the European and Asian continents, long enough for Shirou's muscles to get tired and cramped.

He'd arrived at some ungodly hour in the morning when any sane person with any choice in the matter would have been asleep only to find that instead of Guinevere being engaged in a desperate battle for her life the night was as calm as could be. In the absence of any immediate commotion Shirou had contacted the Committee to arrange some sort of debriefing on what was going on in Tokyo, and then tried to get at least some sleep.

As it turned out though that wasn't going to happen. Of his five hours in bed he guessed that he might have been able to snatch at most two hours of sleep, the rest of it was spent tossing and turning as he tried to calm his racing mind.

A large part of his inability to sleep had been that he couldn't really sort out his feelings in regards to just why he was doing this. Well, that wasn't quite right; he was doing this because he didn't want her to get hurt. Exactly why Guinevere was important to him, that was a bit less clear. Oh, he knew she was a friend, and he knew he owed her for her help in the past, that was enough to ensure he'd do his best by her, but at the same time it didn't explain the odd urgency that he felt.

No, he couldn't let such thoughts distract him now, last night might have been quiet, but as things stood for all he knew things could come to a heads at any moment. He had to use what time he had to try and get as much of a handle on things as he could. Already he was cursing his impulsive decision to come back to Japan immediately and without Illya. Had his adopted sister been here then she'd have been able to use her Mini City Guide to locate all sources of supernatural power. Oh, to be sure it could be hidden from by those with sufficient power or skill, but it could still have probably found Gascoigne. And if not then it would have let him know immediately if anyone started any sort of fight. As things stood he was going to have to do things the more old fashioned way.

"This new island in the bay, tell me all the Committee knows about it."

That isle had to be the Avalon that Guinevere had spoken of, that meant that it was unquestionably the bait that his fellow God Slayer planned to use to lure in his target. Shirou might not know the 'when' of the clash that was to come, but he at least had a decent idea as to the 'where'. That meant that all he had to do was keep an eye on the island, it was the only sure way he had to be able to do anything.

That meant the time honoured method known as the 'stake out' was his best option.

"The isle was discovered yesterday," answered one of the agents. "It's at more or less the centre of the bay, at the mid point between Yokosuka and Cape Futtsu. It's not very large; one of my colleagues described it as being the size of a large park. As of yet there seems to be no vegetation on it, and the only landmark appears to be a single mountain at the centre. From what we can tell that mountain might well have caves and hollows within, a sort of natural castle, if you will. Of real note is that it isn't some landmass that has risen up from under the water, as far as we can tell the island is a large mass that's floating on the sea rather than reaching the bottom. We have no idea why it isn't sinking, but can only guess that there is some very powerful magic involved in it. It doesn't seem to move from its current location, and the reefs and rocks around it remain in place as well."

Alright, that gave him at least some information to work with. Shirou was pleasantly surprised with the apparent readiness of the information he needed.

"So far the island has only been discovered by a few fishermen and those related to shipping that have been going in and out of Tokyo Bay. The Committee has been able to keep the flow of information under their control through the use of magic, bribes and a little blackmail. So far the only group to know anything about it is the coast guard, and the individuals involved know enough about the world of magic to cooperate with us. The island won't appear in the media for some time, but as time passes the effort needed to keep it secret will grow until our resources can't keep up. There are plans in place for that, a cover story about unique volcanic activity leading to its creation and how it is unsafe for humans to land there. That should keep the ignorant from going there, but even that can only hold for so long."

"Good," Shirou said, nodding his head in approval, "The last thing we need is normal people getting caught up in this. Could anyone in a boat have landed yet? If so then we'll have to make sure they're gone before any fighting starts."

"A boat that tried to approach the island was wrecked by reefs below the water," the agent explained, "It seems that the isle is completely ringed by them. The passengers on the boat were all able to get off safely, but they found that strong currents carried them away from the island. The same seems to be true of the air . . ."

As he spoke the man pulled a small tablet out of his jacket and tapped away on it until a picture came up on the screen. It showed a large stack of dark grey clouds spiralling above an island.

"The air currents around the island are also ferocious enough that trying to take any form of aircraft there would be extremely difficult at best, and flat out suicidal at worst. Use of magic might allow someone to land there, but given the absolutely terrifying amounts of magic it's unlikely anyone short of a great sage would be able to do it, and even then it would leave them exhausted."

"That'd probably be the result of Gascoigne using his Labyrinth Authority," Shirou commented, recalling the file he'd read on his fellow King. The data on the Authority was incomplete; the result of information gathered by observation and guesswork, but it was enough to give him at least some idea of what the divine power was capable of. "It can affect large areas and would be able to cut off the island like this. How long he can keep it up is another matter though, if he's using his own power then his time has to be limited, but if it's an Authority that draws in external magic to power itself then he could keep it up for weeks on end, maybe even make it permanent."

"Your majesty, there is one other thing." The same agent spoke again, "Sayanomiya Kaoru has used her spirit sight upon the island and confirmed that there's something else there. Not just the power that has been laid upon it, there is something that's lying dormant there, something that feels unimaginably powerful."

Well, that just confirmed all that he already knew. Guinevere had told him that she was sure that the island was Avalon, the place where her King slumbered as he regained his strength. Now he learnt that one of the more talented users of Spirit Vision had confirmed that the new isle held a dormant power of great strength. All in all it was looking more and more likely that the queen of the Divine Ancestors was right, this really was the resting place of the King That Appears at the End of the World.

The King Arthur of this world, the counterpart to Saber. He had to admit to some curiosity in regards to him, or it could be her he supposed. What sort of god could he be? Would he be a reasonable one like Tiamat or as crazed as Mordred? Would he be as powerful as his legend suggested? Would his Excalibur be a match for the one that Saber had wielded? If nothing else Shirou was curious as to just what kind of a being could inspire the near total devotion that Guinevere demonstrated.

The King of Steel wasn't unfamiliar with magnetic personalities, Saber had been an almost embodiment of chivalrous magnificence, and in his memories he had the 'pleasure' of standing in the almost inhumanly forceful presence of Gilgamesh. Third hand memories gained from Archer had let him experience the overwhelming charisma of Iskander, and the Counter Guardian's memories had included other potent leaders and such. It was an idle thought, but Shirou couldn't help but wonder what this world's Arthur would be like.

Well, that wasn't really a concern for now. If Guinevere should succeed in rousing him from his sleep then he'd have to deal with whatever happened, until then his main concern was to ensure that she didn't get killed.

"The island is under constant surveillance, right?"

At the answering nod Shirou allowed himself a small sigh.

"In that case I suggest we find a nice coffee shop at the bay, we're going to be waiting there until something happens."

That was the bit that he knew would be the most difficult. Archer's memories were rich with recollections of times that he'd been forced to wait for days in a single spot whilst waiting for some activity from his target. At least Shirou would be able to do his stake out with help and in some place with actual toilet facilities, as opposed to making do with binoculars, optical reinforcement magecraft and a bush that might have snakes in it.

"Of course your highness, I should be able to find somewhere suitable in the time it takes us to get to the bay, the car is already waiting."

It was then that the young Emiya saw the slim limo that had been parked just down the road from the entrance to his manor. Even as he spotted it, the driver turned the engine on and began to back it towards the mansions drive.

"Thank you . . . sorry, I didn't ask your name." Shirou was a bit embarrassed that he'd let his manners slip; he'd been too focussed on getting the information he'd been waiting for.

"Ah, I'm Hayate Homura, this is Satoshi Kamiya." For a moment it looked as though the agent wanted to say more, but decided not to.

For a moment Shirou considered trying to make conversation with the older man, then dismissed the idea. Right now he had other things to worry about, and the time it would take to reach the bay could be spent planning for the possible battle to come.


-()-


Alex Gascoigne was not pleased with the report that he'd just read. The return of Emiya Shirou to Tokyo, despite the black Prince's courteous requests to the contrary, was unwelcome, but not entirely unexpected. Alex prided himself on his abilities to assess others, to get a feel of their characters and their disposition. Such was a useful skill, both for managing the Royal Arsenal and for getting the handle he needed to manipulate his enemies.

Everything that he could learn indicated that the eighth Campione was one of those unnecessarily loyal types, the sort that would force themselves on and on regardless of the odds if it was to save someone they cared for. Actually, scratch that, he'd seen those type practically throw their lives away to save someone they'd only met ten minutes ago. Such types tended towards the heroic, though in reality it tended not to go as well for them as was depicted in fiction.

Both the Kings of Japan were of that mould, of that Alex was quite sure. In the case of Kusanagi it had been proven by the way that he'd become the ally of Erica Blandelli shortly after meeting her. The fact that he'd followed her into battle when any man of a more normal bent would have run away screaming only highlighted the point. On the other hand Kusanagi had become a Campione; normal didn't really enter the equation when you took that into account.

Emiya Shirou seemed to be somewhat similar, though his protective nature seemed to be more reserved for those that he knew to some more intimate degree. The report supplied by the Witengamot had been quite clear on the fact that he'd shown no interest in fighting either Perseus or Hades until after they had made a move to threaten his adopted sister. Of course the fact that he'd stepped in to protect the weakened Tiamat from a fully empowered goddess even though he'd only been a step or two out of his own grave did indicate that he wasn't always pragmatic or even rational about his impulses to leap to the defence of others.

What it all boiled down to was the fact that he was certain that the King of Steel would move to interfere with his own plans to slay Guinevere. This brought up a whole other series of problems, the least of which wasn't that even if he were to succeed Alec had no desire to enter into a blood feud with a fellow King. The other, and far more pressing concern, was that the interference of Emiya might cause his plan to fail.

As things stood this was probably going to be his best opportunity to finally deal with the witch queen and steal the Holy Grail. Always before Guinevere had shown an uncanny ability to elude him when she had to, when that was combined with the formidable guardianship offered by Lancelot the act of trying to force her to fight him was only slightly less frustrating than banging his head against a brick wall. To make matters worse in the past she'd created counterfeit Grails that had managed to distract and confuse him.

There were no words to describe the kind of disappointment he'd experienced when he realized that the cup he held was simply a fake. The Grail had been the goal of his father, a goal that had driven him to his grave and a goal that Alex had taken up. He didn't think that he was quite as consumed by its allure as his father had been, but even so it was his great undertaking, the task that he'd set himself years ago when he first became a Devil King.

To his mind Guinevere had accumulated too much debt; she owed him for too much. Her end was the only coin that she had that could pay that he would accept. Well, she could have given him the real Holy Grail . . . actually even that wouldn't have been enough, not when it was still linked to her. Her own existence made that coin worthless since it meant that even if she handed it to him the Grail would never truly be his.

No, her death was the only outcome of their conflict, and that was why he'd set this all up so painstakingly.

The revival of her King was the central fact of Guinevere's existence, indeed it wouldn't be inaccurate to say that it was the very reason for which she lived. Under other circumstances she might flee, but not in these. This was why she had searched these past decades; it was why she had carefully gained power for the Grail and diligently scoured the world. For her and Lancelot this was either do or die. For him it was an almost ideal situation since only then could the true strength of his Authorities be brought into play. This would be his own best chance to bring her to battle under conditions that favoured him. To be sure he knew that she'd be using all her ammunition, bringing out all the trump cards that she'd been saving for an emergency, but Alex was sure he could overcome them.

That was all brought into question by the possible interference of Emiya Shirou.

Well, problematic as he might be the Black Price had a plan in mind to deal with him.

"You do know that when you smile like that you end up looking like a very cliché villain from some children's television show."

Alexander Gascoigne most certainly did not jump at the unexpected voice. The simple fact was that by this point it was entirely too familiar to shock him much.

"Ah, Alice," he said, knowing that his casual use of her given name would irritate her a bit, "I see that you've decided to pop up again unannounced. So, what brings you to this corner of the world?"

"Oh, just the usual," she replied airily, "A world crisis."

With a sigh Alex sat down in one of the comfortable armchairs that stood by the large French windows of his otherwise rather modest hotel suite and gestured for the projection of Witengamot princess to do likewise.

"And just do you mean by that?"

"If Britain's Devil King offers mortal insult to one of his ilk it's always a cause for concern, however this time the situation is further compounded by the fact that Guinevere and the possible resurrection of the King of the End have also been brought into play."

"Hmph, is that all? Really, I trust you don't think that I'd allow the situation to get that far out of control for me. I have planned this meticulously and there is no chance that she will succeed."

"Perhaps, if there is one thing I have learnt in the past years is that you aren't to be underestimated, but even so there is real concern at the Witengamot about the possible revival of Artus. At this point in time there are an unusually high number of Devil Kings in the world, however even more unusual is that for the most part they cause only minimal chaos in the world. Marquis Voban and her Eminence Luo Hao tend to remain in their homes and estates and will only stir to battle the Heretic Gods that catch their interest. Madam Aisha wanders where she will, but generally isn't malicious to those about her. You are an adventurer, and sometimes a troubling one, but the commons have little reason to fear you. John Pluto Smith is protector of his people and almost loved by them, while Lord Salvatore Donii is . . . troublesome but not unmanageable. On top of that the two new kings to appear in Japan have both proven to be surprisingly reasonable, despite certain . . . incidents."

The Black Prince had to let out a somewhat undignified snort of derision at that. Kusanagi Godou wasn't malicious, but he tended to leave chaos and wreckage wherever he battled. Entire parks burned and cratered, long sections of road torn up, Tokyo Tower brought down. Thanks to having to deal with all those incidents the ability of the History Compilation Committee to keep the true nature of things hidden from the ordinary people of the city was becoming something of a legend in the magic using world.

Emiya Shirou wasn't quite as bad, but his two major battles on Japanese soil had still left quite the mess to clear up, one in the form of a field reduced to a wasteland and the other being a city park left in ruins.

That these were some of the more reasonable Campione to appear in recent ages simply spoke to how utterly unreasonable many of his past contemporaries had been.

Well, such thoughts were largely irrelevant, Artus would not be awakened. Indeed, in these circumstances he couldn't be awakened. Poor Guinevere, she didn't know the one secret that he'd been able to work out after all his long research, but that was fine since it played to his favour.

"And of course there is a lot of concern about this item that you've stolen from king Emiya," Alice continued, "There's not much known about it, but the reports gained from those that witnessed its use after the Battle of the Three Kings all confirm that it's one of the mightiest vessels of stored power they've ever seen. And all those that have seen it have also seen the Holy Grail."

"I didn't steal it, I merely borrowed it to make certain it was safe to leave in the hands of such a young king," Alex declared, his face absolutely straight, "There's no cause for concern there, after some extensive research I have been able to determine the origin of the Gem Sword and I now know exactly how to handle it."

There was a moment of silence as the Sage Princess simply smiled at him, her face a picture of happy politeness.

"It really isn't polite of you to lie to a lady you know."

Her smile grew almost beatific as her projection sat down in the seat across from him.

"You still haven't done anything about that habit of your right eyebrow twitching the second anyone guesses correctly. It really is a shameful weakness for a cunning Devil King like you to have. What if a deity challenges you to a card game and then divines your shameful tell? That would be a most ignominious defeat for a king like you."

How!? How could she do that? He'd spent literally hours in front of a mirror training himself to be able to keep that wretched muscle under control. He'd devoted such effort to it that there were times he felt that could actually feel the muscles there growing stronger. In the end it had become rock solid, utterly unmoving to the point where he'd had to spend some time relearning how to form some expressions.

So how was it that she could still read it?!

There were days that Alexander Gascoigne truly regretted his fortune with women.

". . . There is no danger. I am fully aware of what I am doing."

Under normal circumstances he might have tried to change the subject, but he felt his pride slightly stung by the implication that he would be unable to handle the treasure of his junior contempory. Emiya Shirou had only been a Supreme Ruler for a few months while the black Prince had been such for years. To be sure he hadn't been able to unravel some of its inner secrets, but what he had been able to learn had opened up avenues that he could use.

"Alec, you really are difficult to deal with, nothing like that nice new King and his sister. Oh, just so you know, King Emiya refrained from razing the Royal Arsenal to the ground despite your somewhat boorish letter. You know, there were a number of members of the Witengamot that were a bit disappointed about that. They really were hoping that he'd utterly annihilate your organization's headquarters and deal the Royal Arsenal a crippling blow. Foolish really, after all King Emiya is far too heroic a king to ever take such steps."

Why did it feel as though she were criticizing him even as she casually complimented the younger Campione? This was why Alex disliked having to deal with her, even when he won in their little verbal sparring contests he always felt as though he'd been somehow lost in some way.

Shaking his head he very carefully did not glance over at the cupboard in which the Gem Sword was currently stored. It was true that he hadn't yet been able to unravel all the mysteries that the artefact had to offer. On the other hand he had been able to make some discoveries, true they might not enable him to use the sword as fully as a true owner might have been able to, but what he had available to him had opened a number of interesting options.

Options he intended to use.

-()-

To the casual observer the day went on with little in the way of the unusual. It was a fairly nice day, sunny, slightly cloudy, but not overly so. The heat was pleasantly warm, but without the harshness of midsummer. As the season waned and autumn came closer the oppressive heat that had gripped the city was loosening as cool breezes began to flow in. All in all it was the kind of day that you hoped for on the weekend, a chance to get in one last day of summer fun before the summer vacation ended.

Of course that was for the regular people.

For those that actually knew what was going on the day was a far different affair. All eyes were on the bay, or rather on the island that had appeared there. The Committee watched it for Shirou. Agents of the Royal Arsenal that had come to Tokyo watched it for Alex. Several mortals that for one reason or another served Guinevere watched it for her. The agents of various other organizations watched it for those they served.

And all of them were watching for who was going to make the first move, which would show vulnerability by breaking the stalemate.

Hours ticked by as the sun continued its course across the sky. Morning gave way to afternoon and the various watchers ate what provisions they'd brought with them as they kept their vigil. Nobody wanted to be the one that was away getting food when something finally did happen. Midday passed, then the afternoon ticked away, the sun slowly started to descend and people began to ask themselves if perhaps the plan was to wait for nightfall before making a move.

Then, as the shadows began to lengthen, someone made a move.


-()-


"Sir! We're seeing movement in the bay! Some sort of vessel just came out of nowhere!"

Alex didn't even bother to reply, he simply snapped his cell phone closed and stepped over to the open French windows that overlooked the bay.

"Thunder of the Blue Sky!"

The short incantation was all he needed, at the command of the spell words his first Authority responded to his will and transformed him into lightning. In a split second he was no longer in the hotel room, instead he was over the bay gazing down upon a world that had ceased to move.

Often he couldn't help but marvel at the way that his Black Lightning Authority allowed him to see the world. To him it was as though all creation had frozen in its tracks, a planet of statues through which he could move with ease. More than that though there was the freedom that it granted him. When he'd first gained the Authority all it had seemed to grant him was heightened speed, heightened reaction time, a potent ability, but one that seemed weak in comparison to those he'd seen Ramiel demonstrate. It had only been when he'd pushed himself to the limit that the true power of the Authority had been revealed, the power to not merely move like lightning, but to actually become it.

With that he had gained a freedom of motion that he had never even dreamed of. To move through the air, along the ground, even to flow through metal as current all of that had opened up to him, and all at blinding speeds. Still later he had learnt of the destructive power his Black Lightning possessed, but even so he always regarded the speed and freedom of his Authority to be the true value of the usurped divine power.

Now, from high above the bay, the black Prince gazed down to see if he could spot his prey.

Ah, there it was. Not a modern ship of any kind, but rather a ship made from wooden beams and cast iron fixtures. Cannons were visible on the deck, as were coils of rope and buckets of water. The three great masts of the vessel each billowed with large white sails and caught the wind as they drove the ship onwards. The image was that of the pioneering ships that had set out from Europe to find the continent of America.

As if the antiquated style wasn't clue enough as to its supernatural origins, there was the fact that it was operating without any sort of crew. Ropes tightened on their own, tillers moved without being touched, the entire ancient ship functioned with the precision of the finest modern machine despite the utter lack of a crew.

As silent as the ghost ship it seemed to be the vessel cut through the grey waters of the bay, its route arrow straight towards where the newly risen island was.

Could there be any doubt that this was a ship summoned and moved by magic?

"Thunder Descend!"

At his simple command a bolt of lightning lashed out from his form and struck the ship beneath him. It was trivial thing, the simplest almost incidental ability of his transformed state, yet had the ship been a mortal construction it would still have been set aflame and sent sinking into the depths of the sea.

However the vessel beneath him was no simple creation of dead trees and shaped metal. The bolt struck and blasted a hole into the deck, but despite that the course of the ship remained unturned and flames refused to catch. This was a creation of magic, something brought into existence by the sheer will and power of its caster. An Authority might be able to damage it, but unless the user brought more of their strength to bear it would still be able to endure that level of attack.

Had Alex lips he would have smiled. That confirmed that his target was aboard the ship. Though he'd been expecting the bolt to be completely negated the simple fact that it hadn't destroyed the vessel was proof that a magic user of enormous power was on board. And off hand he could only think of a single such being that would be making their way to the island he'd raised in such a ship.

In the next instant he was shooting towards the ship's deck at the kind of speeds that even a bullet would have envied, then as he landed he completed the transition back to human form in an instant and with flawless timing. To an outside observer it would have been as though he had simply appeared out of nowhere after a flash of lightning.

"Ah, greetings to you Alexander-sama."

Turning the Black Prince saw that Guinevere was exiting the ship's cabin, her white doll-like dress oddly clashing with her surroundings as she carefully crossed the deck. What was even more interesting was the figure that followed her, a woman clad in white armour and carrying a lance.

Alex didn't need to ask to know who this was, in the years since first meeting the queen of the Divine Ancestors he'd devoted many hours to carefully researching the origins of the god that served as her guardian. It had been no easy feat, but after many sleepless nights and careful studying he'd been able to deduce the true identity of the god that had come to be known as the Knight of the Lake. As such he wasn't as surprised by the sudden revealing of Lancelot's true gender as he could have been. To actually see it was a little jarring, but it was something that could be dismissed as he focused his attention upon the bearer of the Holy Grail.

"To come out into the open like this is unusual for you, Guinevere. Does this mean you have finally steeled yourself for a decisive confrontation? I must say that it happened faster than I expected."

That was certainly true. After all the years that the two of them had spent in conflict Alex had grown to have a pretty good grasp of his foe's way of thinking. Guinevere was cautious before all else. Oh, she might take risks and seem to gamble, but normally that was only when she'd carefully arranged things to be in her favour.

This, though . . . this was a different matter. Here she was confronting him directly. Even if she did have Lancelot, descended as a true Heretic God, at her side this was too direct for her.

"Yes, despite the dangers and costs Guinevere has mustered all her courage and has come to awaken her king!"

Despite her youthful sounding voice there was an odd mettle to her tone, that of one that had found her resolve and would not let it go even if all her fingers were broken. To his surprise Alex found that he liked it, it seemed more suitable for his enemy than the normal affectation of childishness that she put on.

"Oh, this is a most interesting change Guinevere, but as a King I approve. For you to show your courage is most suitable for you as my enemy."

The witch queen's childish features creased slightly as she frowned at him. Not a sneer, not a glare, not even the childish dislike that he'd been expecting. Instead there was an incongruously mature look of disapproval there, one that actually took him aback slightly with its unexpectedness.

"Do not mock me, your Highness," she declared, her face almost stern in her unexpected dignity, "I have resolved to risk everything I value in order to wake my King. All that is dear to me is being gambled on this confrontation, and you shall not make light of what I have given up for it."

It was all Alex could do not to burst out laughing. Oh, this was just so precious. Guinevere, the same Divine Ancestor that had always run when he thought he had her cornered, was going to be . . . what? Resolved? Brave? Committed? It was like a child trying to be an adult.

"And what have you given up?" He asked, willing to let this conversation run on as long as it could. Every word exchanged gave him a better handle on the way she was thinking now, every word from her let him plan his trap that much better.

In response to his question the immortal child cast her eyes down to the deck for an instant. It was a foolish move, one that could have made an opening that Alex could exploit, but rather than act he took careful note of it.

"King Shirou. I . . . I can no longer be his friend, not if I am to release my King in good faith."

Alex's mind raced as he tried to fit things into place. Was she lying? He'd always thought that her entering the Eighth's protection had been part of a plan, such as buying time until she could make her own move. Perhaps that was the case, but it seemed that somewhere along the line something unexpected had happened, Guinevere seemed to have developed some feelings for her host.

Now that was interesting. In the past the queen of the Divine Ancestors had shown little loyalty to others aside from her King and her protector. In the past he'd seen her ruthlessly use any allies she might gain and then discard them when they were no longer of any use to her. This was different though, either she was far better a liar than he'd given her credit for or her feelings were genuine. If he had to guess he'd go with them being the real deal, it was what his gut was telling him, and even though Alex was a calculating man he also didn't discount the value of intuition, especially not his.

The question was how to use this though. Guinevere had shown a chink in her armour, so how . . .

Ah. Yes, that could work.

"Really Guinevere, you don't have to pretend for me."

Her eyes narrowed slightly once more, her posture stiffening further as she unconsciously flexed the fingers of the hands that hung innocently at her side. He was watching those hands closely, should they move violently it would be the first sign that the fight had begun.

"And what do you mean by that, Black Prince?"

"You don't have to pretend that you care for my fellow king, you have finished using him after all. Further deception is superfluous at this point."

He knew the verbal volley had hit home as he saw her eyes widen in shock as she processed his words.

"You . . . How dare you?! Do you really insinuate that Guinevere would treat Sir Shirou in such a way?!"

Such outrage, how interesting. And he was no longer King Shirou, but Sir Shirou now. That was certainly tellful.

"Of course, the youngest of all the God Slayers in this world, one that you'd already had contact with, one that you had saved from Jord. Really it was a masterstroke to get him to accept you into his household as you did, it granted you an almost unassailable position to work from, one that even I would have been wary of assaulting."

Internally he smiled as he saw the effects his words were having on the immortal child. He could see her temper starting to simmer, still under control, but testing her grasp none the less.

"G-Guinevere would not treat Sir Shirou in such a way!" she angrily declared, "He has been a fine friend and host to me and Sir Knight, to imply that we would-"

Alex cut her off with an almost negligent wave of one hand, a move intended to further irritate her.

"I said there was no reason to continue the deception. No doubt he's already aware of just how you've been using him, the fact that you immediately dropped him like used refuse as soon as a hint of Artus' presence appeared is clear proof. You don't have to pretend that you were ever friends with the poor fool."

Yes, twisting that knife was indeed having the effects that he wanted; the immortal child's face was flushing with anger. She was trying to keep her calm, trying to remain unmoved, but this was proving to be surprisingly effective.

"Sir Shirou is no dupe or fool!" She declared hotly, "He is a fine young king and a true friend! Guinevere left his company because she didn't want to impinge on his honour or that of his majesty, the King of the End!"

"Maybe," Alex replied, allowing a smirk that he knew to be infuriating to appear on his face, "But that doesn't matter, does it? You are the handmaiden to your King, and that means that you'll have to cast young Shirou aside regardless, since it is their nature to be enemies. So you knew that you'd be his enemy, but you still became his friend. Tell me, do you look forwards to the day when your King will kill him?"

Yes, this was working just as he'd hoped. Her loyalty to her King was one of the central pillars of Guinevere's existence, but that was now being set against her apparent affection for her former host.

"H-His majesty would have no need to move against Sir Shirou!" the child-like immortal protested, her composure fraying a bit more, "As a Supreme King that doesn't rampage or cause calamity Sir Shirou is not one that his Highness would need to move against. Indeed, Guinevere firmly believes that the two of them could be friends!"

It was all Alex could do not to actually laugh at that. The sheer notion was simply too absurd.

"Really? You know that I've performed plenty of my own research upon your King; did you know that he always slays all the Campione that exist in the era in which he awakens? How confident are you that his very nature won't compel him to slay Emiya Shirou regardless of his disposition?"

Guinevere didn't reply, but that was enough of a reply in and of itself.

"So you don't know! But even so you intend to continue, even though it might well lead to the death of the young King that has treated you so well? I suppose that indicates just how much you chose to value that offer of friendship."

"I am not blind to the possibilities."

Her words were quiet, yet they caught Alex somewhat off guard. The short sentence was void of the normal childish mannerisms that Guinevere almost always affected. That seriousness lent her small stature a . . . gravity that honestly surprised him.

"I know that this might set them against each other, that they might have to fight. But I chose to believe in them. His majesty is a god that stands above all, the divine presence that my mother goddess chose to dedicate her all to, and the one to whom I am likewise dedicated. Emiya Shirou is the young child of Pandora that defies all that I know of his kind and the gods of Steel, and yet he is my dear friend. Perhaps they will fight, perhaps they won't. But I shall not deny either of them."

For a moment the Black Prince was actually taken aback. The Witch Queen of Britannia was an immortal child, certainly her magic and intellect surpassed what mortals could conceivably understand, but even so by her very nature she was a child-like being. For her to suddenly speak in such a mature way . . . it surprised him.

Still, it didn't really matter too much to him, not in the end. That he'd been able to push her this far simply meant that he had been able to touch on a sensitive subject.

"So you didn't-"

The attack that came at him actually caught him somewhat flat footed. It had been his plan to emotionally prod the blonde immortal until he elicited a reaction, but he'd expected for her to run or shout at him. For her to actually lash out, that had been so out of character that it had caught him almost totally off guard. Evidently he'd managed to touch on more of a sore topic than he'd thought.

Worse still was that she didn't simply try to hit him with a wild blast of magic, if she had then that would have been easy enough for him to deal with. Divine Ancestor though she might be Guinevere still didn't have the raw power to make her magic strong enough to hurt him. The magic resistance of a Campione was strong, strong enough that it needed a divine power to pierce it. No, had Guinevere simply attacked in anger then he could have dealt with it, honestly the only threat she truly posed was if she used the Grail to augment her spells. With that kind of power behind them it was possible they could pierce his protection, but he regarded it as highly unlikely given how miserly the witch queen had been in the past with using the power of the sacred cup.

What was the real problem was that she had lashed out intelligently. The blast of energy that had struck out at him hadn't been powerful; instead it had been loud and bright, enough so that the sudden flash and roar had sent him stumbling back.

Clever, the thought ran through his mind even as he shifted into lightning and dodged to the side. Sure enough the pristine point of Lancelot's new lance stabbed through the spot where he'd been reeling only an instant before. Alex's instincts served him well as he once again shifted and shot over to the far end of the ship's prow to avoid the follow up attack.

To his surprise the expected assault failed to occur, instead his reforming eyes caught sight of the form of Lancelot's mount bearing both her and Guinevere towards the island at impressive speed. This didn't make sense, why was she making a break for it? Surely she knew that his speed was more than enough to catch up to them with ease. Lancelot might be swift, but his Authority was practically built around the concept of speed, something he knew that she knew so why-

"RRRHHAARRGGGHHHHHH!"

Ah, that would be why. Once again the Black Prince shifted into lightning to avoid an attack, but this time it wasn't a lance that he dodged, rather it was a claw that was itself easily the size of a spear. There was a loud splashing sound and he had to shift once more, this time to avoid being struck by a huge and pale tentacle. Had he been upon any sort of mortal vessel the ship would have already been coming apart around him, however this was a construct of the potent magic of the witch queen herself. The wood might break and the ropes might snap, but the main body of the ship held together despite the damage.

As his eyes cleared Alex saw just what it was that had attacked him, a long snake like dragon with blue scales and a pale white kraken. Each had taken up a position alongside the ship and were now focused on attacking him.

So, not one, but two of the powerful water spirits Guinevere could summon, not totally unexpected but definitely unwelcome. He knew that she could do this, having faced it in the past. What was a surprise was that she'd been able to summon two such beings. On the other hand it did make a certain level of sense, though the reincarnation of an earth mother goddess, the powers of earth and water still recognized her as kin to them. That was what made most Divine Ancestors so powerful despite their diminished state. By tapping into that and reinforcing it with the enormous power of the Holy Grail the summoning of two such beings would have been well within her means.

This . . . this was irritating. There was no doubt that he'd be able to defeat them. As servants of Guinevere they didn't have quite the same power as the subordinates of true gods; however they were still quite powerful, enough so that they could harm him and slow him down if he wasn't careful. Unexpected as they were he could still deal with them; the only problem was that doing so might throw his carefully crafted timeline off. Well, that was alright, he had his own ways of dealing with complications like this.

He didn't use any spell words this time, he didn't need to. Having anticipated the need for this Authority he'd made preparations beforehand and as such the Faceless Queen had been just waiting for his call.

The dragon just had time for a startled yelp before it was suddenly pulled down into the deeps; the kraken wasn't even able to match that having disappeared before being able to do a thing. Taking a moment to look over the side of the ship Alex could just about make out a trio of vague silhouettes thrashing about beneath the surface.

The Faceless Queen was one of the two Authorities that he'd gained in the years since his first encounter with Guinevere, and as such he'd taken great pains to ensure that the details of its strengths and weaknesses were kept as hidden as possible. For all those years he'd been slowly working towards this moment, the time when he'd slay the witch queen and claim the Grail for himself.

This particular Authority was a powerful and versatile one in that it allowed him to summon up a subordinate deity to aid him. The queen in question was a female giant who could adjust her size and possessed both wings on her back and a fish's tail for legs, meaning that she could both swim and fly with equal ease. In terms of sheer destructive power she was quite potent, enough that she was able to shatter an entire tower forged from steel that he'd encountered during one of his adventures. In addition to that not only was she able to conjure up a nigh limitless number of spears, she was also quite independently intelligent, enough that the Black Prince didn't feel the need to directly control her. All in all she was almost the perfect accomplice.

Unfortunately it was the nature of powerful Authorities to have some flaws to balance their strengths, and despite his best efforts Alex hadn't been able to keep the main weakness of his summon concealed. Her title of the Faceless Queen came from her principle limitation, that should her face be glimpsed then she would be immediately unsummoned. Of course, given her long hair and sheer speed, getting that glimpse was no easy task.

She would unquestionably be able to deal with the two lesser spirits. Lower ranked divine spirits like them simply didn't have the power to fight on equal footing with the servant of one that stood as equal to a true god. Granted, there being two of them might cause the fight to drag on for a bit, but in the end he was completely secure in her victory.

With the formidable distractions dealt with Alex turned his attention back to his quarry. Even though it had only been a few fleeting instants the mounted pair had already made considerable distance to the island. Catching them wouldn't be easy, though he could if he pushed himself. In their past exchanges Lancelot had proven herself to be troublesomely swift and agile atop her mount.

Fortunately he didn't need to catch up to them, not if things went as he expected them to.

No, his biggest worry wasn't Guinevere and her protector, it was someone else entirely. Namely the young Campione approaching on his winged white steed.


-()-


Guinevere could sense King Emiya drawing closer. His steed was swift and sure, but the bay was a large area to cover and talented though he was the eighth Campione was still relatively new to both riding a mount and handling that mount's top speed. Such speeds were useable over the open waters of the ocean or at high altitudes when passing over entire countries, but on a smaller scale if he were to push his steed to such velocities there was a good chance he'd overshoot his intended target and go careening into the water or a building. As such he was limited in his speed, enough so that by the time he arrived she and Sir Knight would be gone.

All of this was just a peripheral thought though, something that ran through the back of her mind while the vast majority of her heart was caught between two emotions. First was a sort of mild annoyance that her former host had followed her back to his homeland, and then there was an almost childish glee that came with realizing he'd cared about her enough to follow her back. Caught as she was between them all the immortal child could do was hang onto the pommel of Lancelot's saddle and duck her head to try and conceal the rising blush that was colouring her cheeks.

Apparently she didn't conceal it well enough.

"T'would seem that your young king is less than willing to stay out of this matter. Hah, it's enough to make this one's heart flutter is it not?"

"S-Sir Knight shouldn't tease Guinevere like this." The witch queen of Britannia declared, though her voice did stutter slightly.

"Oh, one's precious child should not be embarrassed," Lancelot answered, her voice tinged with clear good humour, "She should be proud that she has ensnared King Shirou so. He is a fine young man, one whom one approves of. Indeed, I think his highness would approve of him as well, since he isn't one of those kings that abuse their powers and run rampant."

Guinevere tried to reply, tried to find any words at all, but it seemed that all cohesion had fled her voice as all she could do was make a soft squeaking noise as she craned her head to try and stare at her protector.

Then there was no more time for words as the two of them entered the territory of the labyrinthine Devil's Sea. Even as they did so Guinevere could feel the very air being charged with power. Unlike a more combative Authority the Labyrinth was meant to take control of a territory and then subjugate it to the Black Prince's control. Not merely the land it appeared on though, it also took control of the waters around it and even the air that surrounded it. Under normal circumstances the only way that the witch queen and her protector could have broken through would have been the use of sheer brute force.

However her knowledge of the origin of this Authority allowed her a different option.

"Beloved child, it is almost time to summon Fake Minos."

"Is Sir Knight certain? Doing so will leave your divine lance unpowered for a time."

"One still has the spear gifted to you by King Shirou. Until the strength returns to this borrowed Excalibur it shall suffice."

Guinevere nodded in acknowledgement to her protector and clasped her hands as though in prayer.

"O Holy Grail! O Fountain of Life, legacy of the white goddess! I beseech you to answer to her daughter, the goddess' descendant!"

The golden urn appeared in front of the flying divine horse.

"King of Crete, father of the minotaur, His Royal Highness the priest of live sacrifices. Guinevere implores the sky, praying to the earth, petitions the ocean for Your Royal Highness to grace us with your presence once more. Please listen to a young girl's pleas, and send forth your fragments to the earth!"

Guinevere once again used the spirit power of Divine Summoning. Under normal circumstances this was a secret trump card unique to certain Divine Ancestors, one that allowed them to manifest the minions which once served them when they were still goddesses, the divine beasts of water and land.

However, the spell Guinevere was currently using took it one step further.

Her spell words for summoning manifested as golden light in the air and began slowly enveloping the Holy Grail. Next the golden urn began to change in form, the head of a ferocious bull with the nude figure of a man below the neck. Standing tall at ten meters or so.

This was the likeness of the god Minos whom Alec had slain on Crete eight years ago.

Using the Holy Grail's magical power to manifest a fake god was no easy feat and required turning the Grail itself into a god. During this time, the Grail's original functions were lost, thus disabling the divine lance Excalibur which relied on its connection with the Holy Grail. Guinevere had pondered the notion of focusing on having her Knight battle the fourth Campione rather than break through to the island, but had dismissed it. Granted, if Lancelot was wielding both the lances and was backed up by her two divine spirits then she might be able to emerge victorious. The problem was that Alexander Gascoigne was not one to engage in a fair fight. If it looked like he might lose then he had no problem with escaping until he could shift the odds to his favour. It was an unchivalrous approach which none the less was very hard to deal with.

That was what had led her to this plan instead.

In a matter of seconds the transformation was complete and Fake Minos leisurely hovered in the sky beside the soaring divine horse and its riders, its aura of power expanding to wrap around them.

Then there was no more waiting. The false god and the mounted pair advanced towards the island that had been raised by Alex. As they drew closer Guinevere was the first to feel the pressure of the Labyrinth pushing at her, trying to keep her from even landing upon its shores. It was a pressure she could resist, but it was by no means an easy thing. If this was the effect of merely approaching it . . . well, she was quite certain she could never have broken through the labyrinth itself without aid. Quite simply it would still take days to break through by sheer brute force, even if Sir Knight lent her full strength to the endeavour.

This was not a fight the witch queen wanted to pick, not if she didn't have to. Doing so would exhaust the endurance of both herself and her ally, so by the time they did face the Black Prince they would be tired and he would be fresh and prepared. In other words just the kind of fight he liked. No, that was something to avoid at all costs, and to do so she had been willing to give up the divine lance form of Excalibur.

The Labyrinth was a potent Authority, one that could have sealed off the isle to her; however it was an Authority whose origin she knew. It had been taken from the god Minos, the king of Crete that had demanded sacrifices and fathered the minotaur. So, if power was borrowed from the fake Minos, who possessed the same authority . . .

Under the guidance of the false god, Lancelot and Guinevere finally entered the territory of the devil's sea. Avalon along with the 'King of the End' were in reach!


-()-


Shirou tried hard to bite back his frustration as he headed towards the ship. Underneath him Snow sensed his rider's irritation because the winged horse snorted and shook his mane in a show of distress.

"Don't worry," the red haired teen assured him, patting his neck, "It's not you I'm angry with. Shhhh . . ."

It had all been a comedy of errors as far as trying to keep an eye on things in the bay had gone. He'd spent most of the day in a small café that Homura had recommended. The place had turned out to be quite pleasant, good coffee, polite staff, nice ambiance and a great view of the bay. Homura and his colleague had made their way to another café on the other side of Tokyo Bay, the idea being that by observing from two directions they increased their chances of spotting any activity. Of course there were other agents keeping an eye out, but Shirou wanted to be on scene to do his own watching.

Sadly the eighth Campione had been on the wrong side of the bay to spot when things had begun to happen. But that would have been alright since there were people on the other side that did spot it. As soon as Guinevere's ship had made its appearance agents had reported to Homura who had in turn swiftly dialled Shirou's cell phone.

Only to be told that the number he was trying to reach had been unavailable.

The cell had survived everything the world could throw at it. In fact Shirou had begun to wonder if he'd accidentally used some sort of one-shot Authority upon it, because nothing else seemed to explain its seemingly invulnerable nature. Oh, it did get scratched and scuffed, but considering that it had been in his pocket during his fight with Mordred, his encounter with Venus, his battle with Luo Hao and Kusanagi Godou, the fight with Tiamat and then Jord and his last fight with the archer on the island . . . well, the fact that it functioned at all was a miracle. That it was not only functional but actually in pretty decent condition was nothing short of mind boggling.

So why had it failed him now?

It hadn't broken or anything like that. As far as he could tell from a quick inspection it was still working fine. The problem was that he'd forgotten to charge it up and the last of its power had run out some time after he'd arrived in the café. Normally he made a point of charging it every night, but the last few nights he'd been in unfamiliar locations and the little ritual had slipped his mind. As a result Homura hadn't been able to reach him there.

Still, the Committee agent hadn't been deterred and upon realizing he couldn't reach the eighth Campione via his cell he'd instead rung the café's landline and told the proprietor that he had an urgent message for the young man that matched Shirou's description. The manager knew who he was talking about, the nice young man that had arrived early, set up by a window and had been ordering a steady supply of snacks and coffee. Since he'd spent a decent amount on a somewhat slow day she'd have been more than happy to pass on the message.

If he'd been there.

As it turned out the call had come at the exact same time that Shirou had decided to use the toilet. It would seem that a steady intake of coffee and tea could in time leave even a Campione with need to take a couple of minutes.

As such it had only been after he'd returned that he'd received the message.

From there it had been a mad scramble to check his cell and confirm that yes; the battery was flat, dashing out of the café, finding a spot away from civilians and then summoning Snow. Once up in the air he'd swung his mount around and headed towards the isle as fast as he dared.

And it wasn't fast enough, even as he drew closer he saw that there was only one figure on the ship, and it definitely wasn't Guinevere or Lancelot. Looking towards the isle he could see a huge form hovering in mid-air, one with a horse and rider beside it. Had he been a betting man Shirou would have laid money that those were his former guest and her allies. He could catch up with them . . . well, maybe anyway. But that didn't seem the most practical approach. Instead he tugged slightly on Snow's bridle and aimed the Pegasus towards the ship.

For his part the figure on the vessel showed no sign of concern as Snow and Shirou landed. Indeed he simply leaned nonchalantly against the wooden railing and nodded a greeting. He was easy enough to recognize, the young Emiya had seen pictures of the man before. Tall, of clear British ancestry, wearing a comfortable but elegant black suit that matched the colour of his hair. In his late twenties, pretty much the prime of life, and clearly in excellent shape. However despite all that it was the eyes that stood out, sharp eyes, eyes of a type that the memories of Archer recognized. Those were the eyes of an utterly confident schemer and planner, the eyes of a man who through guile and effort could make the world dance to his tune. Those were the eyes of someone dangerous.

"Alexander Gascoigne, I presume?" Shirou asked as he slipped from Snow's back, even though he already knew the answer.

"Indeed. Emiya Shirou, I take it?" The man's voice was every bit as relaxed as he was, but underneath it there was an unmistakable note of readiness. As Shirou nodded the more senior king tilted his head slightly.

"I see that you didn't take my advice on remaining on holiday. A shame, I just this morning sent instruction to one of my subordinates to recommend a small restaurant to you, one that I'm quite fond of."

He was too relaxed, that was what the Archer part of his memories was yelling at him. There was something here, some set up. Or he was being expertly bluffed, that was also a possibility, and an irritatingly plausible one. Everything he'd been able to learn about Alexander Gascoigne indicated that he was the trickiest of all the Campione to deal with. The likes of Salvatore Donii, Luo Hao or Voban might have more destructive power or combat skills, but they were simplistic in their own ways. Undeniably brilliant in battle, but straightforward in how they would come at you.

Simply put, they were Sabers and Lancers, the Black Prince was an unholy combination of Caster, Assassin and maybe a little Archer or Rider, depending on how you looked at it. In a word; troublesome.

"I'm going to make this simple; I don't plan to let you kill her."

Forget trying to verbally dance around the subject, if he was talk to his fellow god slayer then he might as well play the part of a king once more. Saber, Iskander, even Gilgamesh, none of them would have tip toed around the subject.

"Do you really think I'm going to take that so easily? She is my enemy, she has been for years. This isn't a vendetta that I'll let go simply because you say so."

"Maybe, but I'm still not going to let you kill her."

Alex's forehead knitted slightly in a mild display of confusion. It wasn't a real emotion though; it had the look of a deliberate act, a visual prop he was using to make a point.

"She is a Divine Ancestor, the natural enemy of those that have usurped the powers of a god. Not only that, she is also the servant of the Strongest Steel and seeks to bring him back into the world. Though I have full confidence in my abilities I don't think reawakening a god whose purpose is to slay God Slayers is a move that speaks too well for our prolonged lives. It's far safer to eliminate her and be safe from her efforts for a few centuries."

If he was trying to provoke Shirou then he was doing a damned good job of it, but the eighth Campione was managing to hold his temper in check.

"She's my friend."

Shirou knew that the answer he gave was simplistic and a bit juvenile, but at the end of the day it was how he felt. Guinevere had helped him; she'd spent time with him, become familiar to him. He'd grown to have a certain level of admiration for her dedication to her king and enjoyed her presence. Yes, he knew that the rational thing was to let Alex kill her and ensure that the King of the End wouldn't awaken. But then again, Shirou and cold blooded rationality had a somewhat complicated relationship.

For his part Alex just looked at him as though he'd begun to speak gibberish.

"You do know that she's simply been using you to secure her position until such time as she could discard you? Are you really too blind to see that?"

"That might be the case, but she saved me when she didn't have to, she has been a good guest, and I've come to enjoy her company. I have no intention of letting her get murdered. As for her king . . . I think I'd be interested to meet him."

That was true as well. Guinevere's King was the counterpart of Saber, and for all his intimidating reputation Shirou was curios as just what kind of a god he'd be.

However his almost casual answer seemed to rub the Black Prince up the wrong way; a scowl was working its way onto his face despite his attempts to stay calm.

"She has abandoned your protection, Emiya Shirou! You have no stake in this matter any more, this is a confrontation between long time enemies and the resolution of a grudge that has gone on for years before you even became a Campione."

Oh, so he knew about that. Internally Shirou grunted in irritation at the loss of a potentially useful bargaining advantage. Had he still been able to claim that Guinevere was under his protection it would grant a certain amount of legitimacy to his moving to help her. Without that this was basically reduced to him being an interferer. Guinevere and Alex were legitimate enemies, and it was a quarrel that Shirou had no part in.

"She's eaten at my table, sailed on my ship, fought at my side, whether she wants it or not she has been my ally and has become my friend. What kind of a King would I be if I were to abandon a friend simply because she tells me to go away?"

On that both Gilgamesh and Iskander would have agreed. The King of Heroes would have faced the gods in order to save his one true friend had he had the chance. Iskander would have likewise never left a friend to die. Oh, he would have accepted their deaths in battle as a grim reality of conquest, but to abandon them? Never!

"A rational king, one that sees to the wellbeing of his subjects. What you're doing is endangering them all in order to save one. Is she worth it? Is the life of Guinevere worth putting your other friends at risk? Worth risking your sister?"

That was another jab at his reasons, trying to undermine any determination he might have. Shirou had to admit that it was a good tactic, but it was something he was already firm on.

"I'd do the same for any one of them," he replied, "If any of them were in danger, I'd come to their aid just as surely."

It was true too. Had it been Manaka that was walking into a battle like this he'd also have come to her aid. Had it been Kaida or Yusuke it would have been the same. If it had been Illya . . . well, if he was honest with himself if it was her he might be somewhat more violent in her defence, but he'd still help her all the same. It was the decision he'd made when he'd had to choose between Sakura and the unknown masses, and it was the decision he'd make again for them.

"They are all of my household," Shirou declared, "And what kind of King allows any of his household, even the wayward, to simply wander off and be killed? No, I'll deal with Guinevere, and if she raises her King, I'll deal with him as well. There's always room for more in my house if they so wish!"

Even as he made the declaration Shirou felt his stomach drop. Damn it! He'd done it again! He'd fallen into the role of the Fake King again and gotten carried away, but this time he'd actually said that he'd . . . what? Take the King That Appears at the End of an Era as a friend? An ally? This was even worse than when he'd invited Tiamat to be his guest.

For his part Alex was looking at him with a sort of bewildered contempt, as thought he couldn't really believe what he'd just heard.

"I see. I'd thought you to be more rational than this, but I see that you're just like the other king of this land, reckless, careless of the damage and ruin that you leave in your wake and a danger to those about you!"

"I hardly think the opinion of a glorified thief means anything to me," The red haired Emiya shot back as a bit more of Gilgamesh's manner bled into his performance. "Godou might have his faults, but I hardly think his honesty lesser to one that so casually takes the property of another."

"I borrow!" Alex snarled back, all attempts at calm put to the wayside, "I left a clearly written letter saying that I'd be returning things as soon as the current matter is settled, that's what I always do!"

"Yes, and I hear that the Witengamot are still waiting for you to return that burial urn that you 'borrowed' from them seven years ago. Speaking as one that has been subject to your unsavoury habit I can honestly say that there isn't any difference between you and any other common burglar, at least not in the regard in which I hold you."

Shirou allowed a small smile to touch his face as he saw the sheer stunned outrage on Alex's. How long had it been since someone talked to him like this, months? Years? Having been a King for half his life had he forgotten what it was like to face someone who not only held him in contempt but also had no qualms about showing it?

"That artefact was not safe in such inexperienced hands as yours," the more senior Campione snapped back, his growing anger clear in his voice. "You have been a King for less than a year, you aren't suited to handle a creation of such power, a single mistake could lead to Japan being depopulated."

"True, to a degree," Shirou allowed, keeping his voice as calm and casual as he could since he was sure it would annoy his fellow God Slayer, "I am new to this, but I knew what I was doing when I created the Gem Sword, and I know how to safely handle the power within it. You, though, you know nothing. You're basically a chimp that's stolen a nuclear weapon because you think it's shiny."

Alright, that was an exaggeration and he knew it. Even if the Black Prince wasn't completely familiar with the kind of magecraft that made up the sword he'd stolen he was still a fearsomely capable individual, and one with a history of dealing with unfamiliar artefacts. But Shirou had already decided he wasn't going to give him any of the credit he deserved, since he knew that would only further irritate him.

As things stood the young Emiya's entire plan, such as it was, was to simply distract Alexander Gascoigne for as long as he could since if he was here talking with Shirou then he couldn't be trying to kill Guinevere. And if he could goad him into a fight, well that would be so much the better. It was a basic and immature plan, he admitted it, but on the spare of the moment it had been the best that he could come up with.

The problem was that he was basing a lot of his needling on some guesswork. Virtually everything he knew about the fourth Campione was derived from the reports that he'd read, and most of those had been focused on his capabilities and resources rather than being dedicated personality studies. He had some ideas, based on his past actions and Archer's memories in reading some people, but it was a chancy thing that had holes in it that you could have driven a bus through.

"Oh, I'd think you'll be surprised at how well I've been able to use it."

Even as Alex said the words Shirou knew that his plan had fallen through, there was no more time for words.

It all happened in an instant, he reached out, and his hands were already filled. In his left was the black bow of Archer and in his right was the equally black form of Hrunting.

"Hmph," Alex's response to his action was a snort of derision, "So, resorting to violence so soon? If anything this only proves your foolishness, do you really expect to be able to hit me with that?"

Shirou didn't answer, at this point the use of words was passed, instead he simply drew the arrow and loosed.

Light flashed before his eyes, two lights actually. There was the brilliant flare of electricity as his enemy shifted into lightning and there was the flash of red and the Traced sword became a large bullet of crimson energy. Had he been a normal human he would have missed what happened next, but then again, had he been a normal human then he'd have been dead a long time ago.

Shirou hadn't had Dragon Slaying Hero activated because he hadn't wanted to present too aggressive an exterior. He'd wanted to prolong any sort of dialogue between them for a long as he could before Alex either attacked or left. Instead he'd taken a different route and used Reinforcement upon himself.

The rational behind this was that Campione had a certain ability to sense when others of their kind were using Authorities. It wasn't an exact thing and all of Shirou's research and personal experience confirmed that it was a skill that varied from King to King. Luo Hao was more than two centuries old, but she'd mistaken his Tracing for an Authority, so he didn't think her talent in that area was too strong despite her years of experience. On the other hand he'd noticed that Godou always reacted to him using an Authority, no matter how subtly he did so. It was always a small reaction, so slight that he sometime wondered if the seventh Campione was consciously aware or simply reacting on instinct. He wasn't sure where Alexander Gascoigne fell in regards to that skill, but he didn't want to take chances.

However Reinforcement wasn't an Authority, it was a mortal magic and thus undetectable so long as Shirou was careful. Trained mages could sense it, but during his mortal life Archer had made the most of what few skills he'd had, and one his achievements had been a trick that let him hide his use of Reinforcement. Certainly it couldn't stand up to detailed scrutiny, but it was enough to hide from cursory examination. As a result the King of Steel had pushing as much Prana as he dared into his body from the moment he'd decided to land and meet Gascoigne.

Now eyes sharpened and enhanced by that magic watched as the bolt of lightning left and the bullet of magic chased it. Muscles likewise enhanced held a second Traced copy of Hrunting and drew back on the bow once more even as his eyes remained locked on his target.

Hitting Alex by aiming at him was to all intents and purposes a useless action. The black bow of Archer was able to launch its arrows at speeds that were comparable to bullets, and some of the Noble Phantasms that it fired could attain speeds that surpassed even that. The problem was that Alex was literally lightning fast. Bullets from powerful guns could attain speed so thrice the speed of sound, but lightning had no physical form and so moved at a hundred times the speed of even the fastest bullet. Simply finding an arrow that could move fast enough to hit him was a daunting task, and then there was the matter of tracking and aiming. Reinforcement and Dragon Slaying Hero might give him the sheer speed and accuracy needed, but despite having absorbed some of the skills of his alternate selves Shirou wasn't confident of his ability to hit such a small, distant and fast target.

So he didn't try.

Hrunting wasn't the most powerful arrow in his arsenal, nor was it the fastest or the most destructive. What it was was in many ways the most accurate. Once fired the magic bullet that the arrow became would fly at its target and change its course to ensure a hit. It would avoid obstacles, dodge parry attempts and even chase a fleeing target.

And that was what was happening right now. In his lightning form the Black Prince was nearly a hundred times swifter than the projectile following him, but that didn't matter so much because the Hound of the Red Plains would continue to follow him until it struck or its magic was exhausted. Given that it was a Noble Phantasm it had enough power to keep up its chase for at least another half hour, if not longer. Alex could outrun it, but every time he returned to human form it would begin to close in on him. In theory he could easily keep ahead of it until its power ran out, but if he did do that then he'd have to abandon whatever plans he had for Guinevere.

Pull. Release.

Now he had a second red bullet flying towards him. Shirou was just drawing a third when he finally lost track of his enemy's lightning form behind a rise on the floating island. A second later the air shuddered as two massive explosions went off so close together that they were almost one.

Alright, in the absolute best case scenario both of the weapons had managed to hit him. Exactly how much damage they might have inflicted to his energy form was uncertain, but two Hruntings weren't something that could be easily dismissed. Some sort of defensive power, like Armour of the Champion or Berserker's God Hand, might be able to negate it, but Black Lightning was, to the best of his knowledge, based on speed and last resort offensive power. If he was very lucky that might actually have taken Alex out of the fight.

No, best not consider that a realistic possibility. The Black Prince had faced at least five gods and managed to slay them all, someone like that wasn't going to fall simply to a pair of attacks. Hrunting was a useful Noble Phantasm, but Shirou knew that it lacked the raw power to kill a Campione, even if it struck them while they were off guard. It was more likely that Gascoigne had somehow managed to dodge them, or use an attack to detonate them early. In any case it was best to assume he was alive and well enough to pursue Guinevere until Shirou could confirm otherwise.

Swinging himself back up onto his mount's back the King of Steel gently kicked at the divine beast's sides.

"Come on Snow, as fast as you can!"

With a sharp snort of assent to his master the winged horse once more took to the sky, its aura of divine power shimmering in the sunlight as it accelerated towards the isle.


-()-


Things were going about as well as Guinevere had any right to have expected. She wasn't sure of exactly what was taking place between Sir Shirou and Alexander Gascoigne, but whatever it was it seemed to have prevented the hostile Devil King from following after them directly and had bought them enough time to begin breaking into the territory claimed by the Labyrinth.

There had been some trouble in that even though her fake Minos had shared the same Authority it simply hadn't had enough power to fully break it down. This wasn't really a surprise; even though the Holy Grail was acting as the core for the false divinity it didn't change the fact that the being in question was a forgery, a counterfeit. Even if it had the same Authority the power and potency of the being backing it was too different for them to be regarded as equals. Oh, her creation had been able to weaken the Devil Sea over which they flew, enough to let them draw nearer to the isle, but as it was they had been caught, not able to draw closer swiftly enough to get out of danger.

Sir Knight had been the one to come up with a way to get through. With her normal disregard for conventional methods the Knight of the Lake had suggested that rather than having fake Minos break through each layer of the Authority they should instead use her own Authority of Insane Rush to send the false god berserk and let it batter a hole through the defences arrayed against them in a single suicidal charge.

The plan had worked, though in the end the false god had destroyed itself violently enough that Lancelot was moved to voice her concern.

"How is the Holy Grail, beloved child?"

"Basically fine. How fortunate . . . !"

The golden urn was hovering in the air where Fake Minos had exploded upon his destruction.

Guinevere could tell after only a cursory glance that there was no damage, and as she voiced her assurance Lancelot silently nodded in acknowledgement. It was to be expected, the indestructible divine artefact had endured throughout the centuries without damage, despite a number of attempts by gods and goddesses to destroy it. Such a level of power as the self destruction of a fake deity could not possibly have been enough to inflict damage upon it.

But if the god was no longer being manifested . . .

"Then Excalibur can once more be used?"

"Well, it is a weapon that was revived forcibly once already. Strength should return to it soon, but it won't remain functional for long now. Sir Knight should not be using it except at a crucial moment."

The quiet conversation was carried out with the view of Tokyo Bay laid out before them as they slowly drew closer to their target. Before them the rocky island rose from the sea in a sort of strange solitude. The bizarrely shaped rocks were very conspicuous, giving the island a distinctive look, as though the land had been forged by intent rather than by nature. This was indeed Avalon, the final destination that they'd been seeking for so long.

But any sense of satisfaction either of the two immortal might have felt was quickly dispelled, because just as Lancelot took up the reins and made ready to advance in earnest, magical power burst forth from the ocean directly beneath them.

"This is an authority!? Where's Gascoigne?!" The restored divine lance raised the Knight of the Lake swung her steed around in a tight turn, readying herself to enter an aerial battle with her lightning fast enemy. However even as her protector scanned the skies for their foe her immortal charge sensed the direction from which the power was emanating.

"Sir Knight, below us!"

At Guinevere's warning her protector's gaze followed the direction her arm was waving in. There, almost directly below them, was what she'd spotted, a huge black sphere about sixty meters across submerged just below the sea's surface.

And even as they spotted it the sudden rush of power had . . . steadied, firmed into something strong, something forceful. The sphere was emitting an attractive pulse, a relentless pull that sought to drag down the divine horse that the white war god and the Divine Ancestor were riding. Immediately Lancelot spurred her steed to pull away, but all that Steadfast could manage was to prevent them from being pulled in further as the attractive force matched their attempt to escape perfectly.

"A magical sphere of avarice! This is the authority of attraction and compression that Alexander-sama usurped from the divine beast Behemoth! Not good, we're being pulled into it!"

Inwardly Guinevere cursed in a most unladylike manner. She'd known that the black Prince had slain the great beast Behemoth, but she'd been unable to determine exactly what the new Authority he'd gained was. Though Alex had gone to great pains to ensure that none had seen it in action the Divine Ancestor had been able to study a number of battlegrounds in the wake of his fights. Judging from how debris had been strewn about she'd been able to determine that his new ability involved the manipulation of attractive and repelling forces from a central point. Her guess had been that he could use that power upon himself, pushing away or dragging in targets as he so chose.

This, the notion that it could be manifested as an external force, had occurred to her, but she'd thought it would be as a servitor in the same vein as the Faceless Queen. This, something that lay in wait, undetectable until it activated, hadn't been something that she'd imagined. Her internal curses redoubled as she felt her protector's steed try to break free once more only to fail to achieve more than a deadlock.

"To have a door guard prepared should we reach the island, what thorough planning!" Lancelot grudgingly acknowledged. "The Labyrinth is strong, but he didn't trust solely in that strength, he had a backup plan prepared!"

The attractive pull released by the submerged sphere had immobilized the knight flying in the sky. Again Lancelot kicked at her steed's belly, ordering him to gallop, but his efforts were futile. Steadfast's attempts to follow his rider's orders only resulted in him moving his legs with full force as though pushing through deep mud. Normally, the mount could have kicked off the air as if kicking off ground, galloping with speeds to match any modern aircraft. But now the divine horse's legs were only waving in the air fruitlessly.

Not just the divine horse either, as the force of the black sphere increased both Lancelot and Guinevere felt their bodies stiffening as if the air about them were turning to stone. In only a few short moments both found that neither could move a single finger, they were trapped, immobilized by the power of Alex's Authority.

With an audible grunt Lancelot began summoning magical power, trying to break free from the Authority's restraints, but despite her efforts it wasn't working. Glaring down at the black orb beneath them Guinevere reached out with her senses and tried to divine what she could of its nature. The source of this attractive force, the sphere, had actually moved from its original location, but it was doing it very very slowly. If she had to guess then the queen of the Divine Ancestors would have said that the sphere was incapable of being used as an attack. It could not be hurled or projected, it was simply too slow. Rather this was an Authority meant to be used as a trap, something that laid in wait and captured the unwary. It had no mobility, but its attractive power was terrifyingly great, a proportional compensation. Even with her full strength restored the white war god could not struggle free.

"Clever, setting something like this up."

The Authority had little in the way of destructive power, at least not against a god. Had the sphere been allowed to run rampant in a city it could have easily wrecked a massive amount of damage, toppling skyscrapers and sinking roads. But against a foe that held equal power it couldn't really inflict any harm. Instead its strength lay in immobilization, caught in its pull even power became almost irrelevant since the orb didn't really fight. Even if the foe was powerful enough to resist then they would still be severely handicapped, and so much easier prey for the Fifth Campione.

A caltrop, that was what this Authority was. Not a weapon but a tool to immobilize and weaken the enemy. Was that Gascoigne's plan? To use this sphere to hold her and Lancelot here while he dealt with Sir Shirou? Even if her dear knight was able to break free of the black orb's grip it would cost her strength, enough to weaken her. But surely the Black Prince wasn't so arrogant as to believe he could overcome the King of Steel easily enough to still have enough stamina to defeat even a weakened Lancelot. Alex might be confident to the point of arrogance, but he was also far too calculating and rational to make such a mistake.

There had to be more to it, more to this plan. But what?

Then everything happened at once.

Guinevere saw the approaching form of a black humanoid silhouette at the same time that Lancelot saw the incoming lances.

The profile the immortal child saw was of a mature female with a pair of white wings on her back. From the waist down, the body was serpentine while there was apparently a fish tail where feet would normally be found. It was a grotesque demoness that approached, flying with such speed and agility that it really was flying like the wind. The face of the approaching foe couldn't be seen, but given what Guinevere knew about the figure that was hardly a surprise.

Lancelot, on the other hand, spotted the incoming weapons of the enemy before she spotted the enemy herself, Guinevere felt her guardian once more gathering her strength and feeding it into her mount as both horse and rider struggled to break free before the lances could strike their trapped forms. The spears couldn't kill her protector, not in a single attack, but the queen of the Divine Ancestors wasn't quite as durable. Was this it? Was this how Gascoigne intended to kill her?

Then with a suddenness that was jarring, the restraining force suddenly disappeared. The divine horse which had only a moment ago been galloping at full force was sent lurching forward, both him and his rider shocked at the sudden turn of events. Lancelot didn't hesitate for an instant, as soon as the force restraining her vanished both her lances flashed through the air in deadly arcs. There was a burst of sparks and a screech of metal as the spears of the enemy were cut from the air. But even as the Knight of the Lake moved to defend her charge the Faceless Queen was already moving.

Light as the wind, she darted forwards, aiming at the tiny opening exposed by Lancelot and the divine horse. It was a tiny thing, a miniscule opening made by Lancelot having to lash out at last instant in order to turn aside the attack, and even though the knight recovered almost instantly it just wasn't enough as the queen flew in on her pure white wings and snatched up Guinevere in her arms before retreating just as fast.

"Sir Knight!?"

Just like an abductee in a movie, the Divine Ancestor desperately reached out with her hand. But in the instant before Lancelot could react the Faceless Queen gestured with her free arm and the attractive force from the black sphere resumed once again.

Both the knight and her mount were once again imprisoned by the attractive force and could only watch as the summoned spirit moved out of range of the black orb's force. For her part the immortal child could only stare back as she was carried away from her immobilized protector. It had all been timed perfectly; the servant's attack, her releasing the sphere's influence, her darting in even as her spears engaged Lancelot, her reactivation of the orb as soon as she was out of its reach. A truly ambitious plan, and one that the Black Prince's servant had been able to pull off flawlessly.

As the summoned servant carried her away from her trapped guardian Guinevere could only guess at what he might have planned to deal with Sir Shirou.


-()-


Alexander Gascoigne quietly fumed as he rubbed at his sore arm and patted dust from his clothes.

This Emiya Shirou was proving to be far more of an irritation than the Black Prince had been expecting. He seemed to recall reading in some report that the eighth Campione had used a bow in the past, but it had been an isolated event and hadn't seemed to merit much attention given that he'd not done so again since. That report hadn't mentioned anything about powerful attacks that independently sought out the target even after it dodged to avoid them several times. If it had, he was sure that he'd have made a note of it.

Avoiding the attacks hadn't been difficult, but their persistence had been a problem. Every time he looped around to try to return to the floating island the red bullets would home in on him. They were too slow to hit him, but likewise they kept him from entering the field of battle through sheer persistence.

They had to be dealt with before anything else could be done, and in only an instant the Black Prince came up with a plan to deal with them. Rather than heading away from the bullets he instead shot directly towards them, passing between them before they could react. The two projectiles immediately reversed course and pursued him as he headed towards the centre of the island. Deliberately slowing his flight he'd allowed the bullets to draw closer as he aimed towards the ground, then, at the last instant, he'd shifted from his dive into a parallel flight with the ground at full speed. It was an almost childish tactic, but one that he could utilize due to the supreme speed and manoeuvrability of his Authority. Agile though the bullets were they didn't have enough ability to change their course in time, and both of them struck the ground and detonated.

What Alex hadn't been counting on had been the sheer destructive force that had than been unleashed. He'd let the bullets get close to him so that there'd be no chance that they could change their course in time, but as a result he found himself caught in the outer edge of their energy discharge.

Had he been a normal human the explosion would have been enough to pick him off his feet and deal him severe burns. As a Campione he could have endured it far easier, though it would have been enough to toss him about. Most likely he'd have suffered some superficial scrapes and a little damage to his clothes, not much more. The problem was that he hadn't been in his flesh and blood form; he'd been in his lightning form. Black Lightning was a powerful Authority that boasted superb speed and agility as well as a powerful last ditch attack, but it wasn't meant to endure attacks but to avoid them. When the detonation of magic force hit him it had slammed him out of his energy state and back into human form.

While he was travelling at a speeds normally reserved for the highest grade military flying war machines.

Fortunately his initial transformation had bled of a significant chunk of that energy, but even so he was sent tumbling across the stony ground of the island like some toy tossed away by a careless god. When he'd finally come to a stop, he was pleased to see that the spells on his clothing had managed to keep them in surprisingly good shape, but he'd been less pleased to find that his left arm was aching as though he'd managed to pull every muscle in between his shoulder and elbow. It wasn't a debilitating injury, more like something an athlete might experience if they pushed themselves a bit too hard, but it was an unnecessary irritation.

It would seem that Emiya Shirou was going to be the source of a great number of irritations. Thinking back on their short conversation Alex couldn't help but grit his teeth in barely suppressed anger.

Dislike was something he was familiar with, given his past activities it was hardly a surprise that he'd managed to accumulate a fair amount of ill will from various others. Normally the sheer fear that he could impart by being a Devil King was enough to make most swallow any resentment they might have, at least while in his presence, and even those brave enough to show it to his face were courteous about it. He'd been faced with hatred before, from gods and divine spirits that had wanted to kill him. He'd just taken that in his stride and continued on without letting it get under his skin. He'd even dealt with his fellow Kings, putting up with Luo Hao's superiority, Voban's predatory drive, John Pluto Smith's eccentricity, Donii's idiocy and Aisha's carelessness. Many of them had grated on his nerves, but it had been something he'd been able to deal with.

Pure naked contempt though, that was something new to him. And he was finding that he didn't like it at all.

Straightening up Alex ignored the pain in his arm and instead focused on his connection to the Labyrinth, a connection through which he could instantaneously travel to any part of the labyrinth that he wanted to reach. After all, as the master of the maze, it would hardly do for his own Authority to impede his path. In this particular instance, he bypassed the outer edges of the maze that extended into the ocean and took himself directly to the isle itself.

Having usurped the labyrinth authority from Minos eight years ago, he was fully accustomed to the ways of using it. Indeed, while not quite as favoured as his Black Lightning Authority it was still one of his preferred powers to use. It was an authority of creation that could materialize virtually any sort of labyrinth as imagined upon an existing location. Not only could it modify buildings above or below ground, it could also convert locations into mysterious forests or mystifying fog which could not be exited once entered, with all sorts of variations. The Devil's Sea created this time was one such example, a stretch of ocean that none could enter without his permission, either by water or by air. It had been this Authority that he'd used to seal Circe away on her island after he'd finished pretending to be her lover, once caught in it even a god would have trouble escaping.

That was why he'd taken the trouble of setting it up on this false island, both it and the labyrinth weren't made to grant him an advantageous battlefield, but rather had been set up as a trap to separate Lancelot from Guinevere.

The war god who was already strong enough alone to be a concern was now armed with a version of Excalibur as well as whatever other trump cards the witch queen could bring into play. Furthermore, Guinevere still held that particular trump card of her own that could prove quite troublesome if used at the wrong time. In such circumstances divide and conquer was the only proper strategy to employ.

However he didn't plan on fighting Guinevere here, the isle that he'd created had served its purpose in separating Guinevere from her protector, now it had just one more part to play.

Reaching out with the senses that the Labyrinth provided Alex could feel Emiya Shirou drawing closer. The pegasus he rode upon wasn't quite as fast as his lightning form, but it was still quite impressive. It would only be a few more seconds until he got here, but that was fine, it would fit into the plan nicely.

The angle that the eighth God Slayer was coming from was actually quite convenient. When Lancelot and her charge had fled earlier they had curled around the isle somewhat as Guinevere's keen mystic senses had located a spot that had been slightly weaker than the rest. Of course that weakness had been deliberately made on his part, a trick to ensure that the pair came close enough to his Wandering Avarice to be caught in its power.

The King of Steel, on the other hand, possessed no such senses and was instead heading directly to the island by the shortest route possible. Once he was actually on the island he'd probably be close enough to see Lancelot where she was trapped in the air, but that still left a small window of opportunity for Alex to exploit. If he acted quickly, that is.

As soon as he landed the Black Prince had shifted back to flesh and blood and quickly reached behind a rock to pull out the wrapped length of the Gem Sword. Even as he tugged the cloth covering off he simultaneously lowered the strength of the Labyrinth in the direction from which Emiya Shirou was coming from.

Not a moment too soon as it turned out, almost immediately after he had lowered its strength Alex could feel the Labyrinth strain as something tried to break through its defences. They held briefly, then they began to give way as the power of both the mount and his rider proved too much for them.

Just as Alex had planned.

As soon as the barriers of the Labyrinth began to crack he deliberately shut them down completely, allowing the eighth Campione to shoot forwards as all opposition faded like dew in a blast furnace. Then as soon as he'd come well into the island's territory, Alex brought the Authority up once more.

For the time being the King of Steel was essentially trapped, but sadly for Alex that was only a temporary. The strengths of the Labyrinth lay in misdirection and manuvering. While fighting in it Alex could move to any location as he chose whilst his enemies would become hopelessly lost inside, an overwhelming tactical advantage if used correctly against the right sort of enemy. The problem was that while the Authority's ability to act as a prison was strong it wasn't its greatest strength. It was possible to break out of the Labyrinth with pure strength, but doing so required one to attack with enough force to destroy the Labyrinth in its entirety.

In this case the problem was that Emiya Shirou had a number of Authorities that had that kind of power. Curses Without End, the sacrificial attack of his mount, Titan Knight, all of them had enough raw power to let him break through the Labyrinth, and that wasn't even taking into account the strange weapons he could pull out of nowhere. And of course there was also that strange magic of his, the Unlimited Blade Works that had allowed him to defeat both Kusanagi Godou and Luo Hao.

Honestly the fourth Campione had no idea of just how something like that would interact with the Labyrinth. Given that it seemed to be a spell that overwrote the existing world it might cause his Authority to dispel completely. Alternately it might be dragged over into the world that Emiya Shirou was creating, but in that case it could then be subjected to the full array of firepower that the eighth Devil King had at his disposal there. Either way the end result would be the destruction of the Authority trying to keep him prisoner.

However if Alex was to have his final confrontation with Guinevere then he needed to do more than merely delay his fellow King. Getting out of the Labyrinth might require a sacrifice of energy, but it was time that he needed to buy. Time to finish his fight, time without Emiya Shirou interfering.

Which led back to his plan.

Even as he returned his Authority to its full strength he manifested its avatar before him. The familiar that appeared in response to his mental orders was a small black calf only slightly bigger than your average dog. This was a lesser used ability of the Labyrinth, the ability to create an overseer to keep an eye on things whist Alex himself was off elsewhere attending to his own affairs. The calf didn't really have much power; all it could do was observe those trapped in the maze and report that back to its master. Well, that wasn't completely true; under certain circumstances it could also make modifications to the maze if it looked like someone might be able to overcome it through simple cunning. Such changes were pretty minor, but they were normally sufficient to get the job done.

Well, none of that was really important right now, all that was of concern was the link between the calf and the maze.

For a moment Alex felt slightly bad about what he was going to do. The familiar wasn't really a living thing; it was simply a portion of his divine power in a form that he could interact with. It took the form of a calf because the god that it had originally belonged to had possessed a strong connection to bulls, that was all. Still, it did have a certain character of its own, and he knew that it could experience discomfort, if not real pain.

"Sorry about this."

And with those words he stabbed it with the Gem Sword.


-()-


It was all Shirou could do to bite back a snarl of frustration.

Childish as it was to think it the simple fact was that from the very outset of this whole affair very little had gone right for him. Notices came at inopportune moments, he kept on making the wrong choices and surprises kept on blindsiding him.

He'd chased after Alex, having seen him heading towards the island he'd had Snow pursue him as fast as the Pegasus could manage. At the speeds they'd been travelling it had only taken them a handful of seconds to reach the isle, a trip that would have taken even a helicopter a few minutes. But despite their speed it hadn't been enough to keep up with the Campione become lightning, and Shirou lost track of him despite his best efforts. With hindsight he should have focused upon using reinforcement to augment his vision rather than activating Dragon Slaying Hero. The Authority might enhance his physical attributes, including his visual tracking speed, to the point where he could at least keep up with Gascoigne by sight, but it did nothing to sharpen the range of his vision in the slightest. By the time he'd realized his mistake the Black Prince was already too far away and moving too fast.

Still, he'd known where he was going, of that there'd been no doubt. So he had continued on, if Alex was to engage Lancelot and Guinevere in battle then it shouldn't be hard to spot. All he had to do was get close enough to the island for a good view and then he'd be able to move in to aid them as was needed. Exactly what he'd do then was still something he wasn't too clear on. He had some vague notions, mainly revolving around breaking Gascoigne's nose and giving Guinevere a good smack over the head for worrying him like this, but that was it.

He'd dismissed such thoughts when he and Snow had run into the barrier surrounding the island. No, to call it a barrier wasn't entirely accurate, it wasn't as though they'd run into an invisible wall or anything like that. Instead it was suddenly as though they weren't making any progress. Snow's wings had flapped and they had travelled through the air, but at the same time it didn't seem that they were making any real headway.

Then Shirou had noticed the strange aura that was wrapping around them. Not invasive, not overt, more like running into a thick cloud of steam than anything else. The pervasive feeling of subtle power wrapped around not only him but everything, the air, the ground, the water, even the magic he and Snow gave off.

The Emiya heir wasn't by nature a strongly sensitive magic perceiver. He had some talents in it, namely his ability to quite literally sniff out certain magic engravings or markings, but for the most part it wasn't something he had much utility with. Archer had been a bit better, being able to use reinforcement with considerable accuracy to augment what little sensitivity he had until it was of some practical use, but even then it had been mediocre at absolute best.

Becoming a Campione had improved that to some degree, but even so Shirou had found he could only perceive divinely empowered magic. Some experimentation with Illya had confirmed that he was still as generally insensitive to normal mortal magic as ever, a fact he suspected his adopted sister would use to prank him at some time in the future.

Whatever the case he'd known that he was trapped in the Authority that was covering the entire island. However he'd also been able to sense that it was . . . thinning out around him, becoming strained. It had been a sign of weakness, he'd been sure. So he'd pushed, he'd spoken spell words and channelled more power into Snow. The winged horse had snorted in exhilaration as the magic had flowed into him and had flapped his wings harder even as he began to visibly glow with power.

And then just like that the resistance was gone. They were still moving, but now he could feel them making progress, the stony ground of the isle drawing closer at an almost alarming rate. Pulling back on the reins he brought Snow up even as they began to slow. He'd been getting ready to ascend once more, gain height and a better view, his mind already formulating plans as to how he'd help once he found his runaway guest.

Then it was almost as though the sky had fallen on his head.

The aura of the maze Authority, which had remained but had felt thin and scattered, returned with a vengeance. For a brief moment Shirou couldn't breathe and Snow let out a distressed whiny as his wings stiffened into a wobbling glide, the strength mainly robbed from them by the sheer oppressiveness of the returned aura. The eighth Campione had taken a shuddering breath, even as he forced his own magic to flow a bit faster to fight off the external pressure, his recovery was reflected in his mount as Snow shook his mane and once more flapped his wings to regain the height he'd lost.

But that didn't really matter, not when they didn't know where they were going.

As the oppressive aura had set in Shirou had lost sight of the direction in which they'd been heading. Now he couldn't tell which way that was. He'd tried to orient himself by looking for the isle's shore, but to his horror found that no matter where he looked all he could see was the stone covered land of the island running off in every direction as though the small isle had suddenly swollen to the size of a country. He could feel it pressing down on him with a force behind it, something that was lending the Authority a strength it hadn't had before.

It was a force that he recognized, though he didn't want to believe it. It was his own prana, vast amounts of it flowing into the Labyrinth like adrenaline into a human body. Somehow Gascoigne had worked out a means to tap into the prana Shirou had stored in the Gem Sword, that was the only possible answer. But how? How had he managed it? Shirou had been sure that none but he could access it safely, the simple fact that it was his prana stored in there meant that only someone with his prana could handle it. Had he been arrogant, overconfident? Clearly he'd been wrong the simple fact that this was happening at all was proof of that!

Taking a deep breath the eighth Campione reined in his emotions and forced himself to be calm. He could worry about that later, right now he had to understand what was happening.

Somewhat to his surprise it was much easier to sense and understand what the Authority was doing now that it had substantial amounts of his own power running through it. Quite simply the new prana was acting on the Authority like a doping drug on muscles, the comparison was a bit crude, but it captured the essential elements. The new power was reinforcing the maze, making it and its effects stronger, but at the same time it was making the Authority unstable. Quite simply by increasing its strength it had decreased its lifespan.

The problem was that though the Labyrinth's ability to last had been cut from years to hours Shirou couldn't afford to wait even that long. He didn't have hours to spare, he didn't even have minutes. He needed to get out of here now!

Gathering prana to his hands he began to Trace his bow. He'd use Caladbolg to blast his way out. The twisted sword might not be the powerful arrow in his metaphorical quiver, but it was efficient and its space distortion quality would be of extra use in this case. One probably wouldn't be enough to break free, but several in rapid succession would be enough to tear a way out. At least it would be if his guess was on the mark. In a single practiced motion his fingers caught the shaft of the Traced sword-become-arrow and notched it to the string.

Draw.

Release.

"Caladbolg!"

The spiral arrow took off in a manner more suited to a bullet being fired than an arrow being released. It traced a line of blue light across the sky before impacting on the outer edges of the Authority's territory.

Space twisted around the arrow, the very air screaming as the power of the Broken Phantasm distorted the world around it. More than that, the Labyrinth almost audibly groaned under the pressure of the assault, the special distortion it created to contain itself being twisted in a way it had never encountered before. The Authority fought back though, prana surging, space forcing itself back into the correct configuration as the divine power forcefully asserted its rule over the affected space.

But though that was enough to mitigate the passage of the arrow it was not able to stop its path. The reshaped sword impacted upon the outer boundary of the Labyrinth, the spatial distortion having been broken as the counter distortion was cancelled out. The resulting explosion was tremendous; enough that Shirou could practically feel the earth beneath his feet shudder slightly from the impact.

There was something else though. Even he felt the Authority around him reel from the hit that it had been dealt, currents of prana rushed to the 'injured' spot in the Authority, and in barely a handful of seconds the sense of stress that had been there before was gone. There was something else though, something that had rippled outwards at the moment of impact. It had been so swift that he hadn't been able to properly sense it, but it was something . . . something he was sure was important.

Frowning Shirou Traced another sword, not Caladbolg, just a lower rank Broken Phantasm, and fired it from his bow once more. Again there was the impact and the damage, though both were much smaller this time, and then a surge of his own prana that reinforced and repaired the damage. There was something else again though, and this time he was certain he knew what it was. It was like a shockwave reverberating through the streams of his prana in the Authority. No, not a shockwave, it was more like there was something else inside the flow of prana itself. It was a . . . fracture, a crack, a discord that came into existence as the Labyrinth was stressed, then faded away as it healed.

He considered letting loose with a consecutive barrage, trying to bring the whole thing down in one go, but something gave him pause. It wasn't anything quantifiable; it was pure instinct, a certainty that something was wrong. That pulse, that shock that echoed in the Authority, something about it felt . . . wrong, important. Unstable, that was it; there was something off kilter in the pulse. He knew his own prana, maybe not as well as a true magus might, but he knew it well enough. The power that flowed through the Authority felt off, unbalanced, dangerous. in something like the Labyrinth the flow should have been as smooth as blood in a vein, this discord felt savagely wrong, something that shouldn't be.

For a moment he considered ignoring it and continuing to try to blast his way out. After all, anything that was wrong should be to his favour as it would only help bring down the Authority that much faster. But in spite of that logic something about it nagged at him, a feeling that he was missing something that shouldn't be ignored.

Biting back a curse and trying to stamp down his impatience Shirou dismissed his bow and laid a hand on Snow's mane.

Now what?


-()-


Huh.

Alex was honestly surprised that had worked as well as it had.

He'd come up with the theory that it would be possible, at least in part, for his Labyrinth Authority to tap into the power stored in the Gem Sword, after a great deal of contemplation on the natures of the sword, the nature of the power it contained and the subtler aspect of his Authority. The idea was built on a number of factors, firstly was that despite being a working of mortal magic the material from which the sword was made was created by an Authority, one that had belonged to Hades to be specific. The nature of Hades had been that of a god of the Earth. His underworld had been below the earth, he'd had authority over all the riches beneath the earth, heroes had gone to his lands by going into deep caves and ravines. Minos, the god from which this Authority was usurped, had also been such a god, though his areas of influence had been more to do with the fertility of the soil and the richness of the land. Even so there was a connection there, a bridge to be exploited, if used correctly.

Authorities weren't quite so inflexible as they might first appear to be. Even though they had specific functions there were numerous factors that contributed to how well they worked and how they interacted with each other during conflict. Minos had been a god with many aspects, but as his legend had continued certain aspects of it had gained fame. The Minotaur was famed as the beast of the Labyrinth, but it was also known far and wide as the monster that had taken sacrifices of young men and women. Of course, over the years the truth had been distorted by various storytellers. Minos had not eaten the flesh of his sacrifices; rather he'd drained their lifeforces, their vitality, their magic.

Quite simply, he had fed upon the very energies that were stored in the Gem Sword.

This was a trait that could be exploited, and after some consideration he'd come up with a method he'd thought had a fair chance of working. The calf that he had used as an avatar of his Authority was created by an earth based power, just as the sword was. The act of sacrifice had power in it, but even that would not have been enough were it not for the simple fact that the Gem Sword was a sword. Had it been in another form, such as a chalice or a talisman, this act would have been meaningless. However forms had significance in the world of gods and magic, and the container of power that the King of Steel had created was in the form of a weapon. Thus two of the most important conditions for his plan had been cleared, he had a sacrifice, and he had a suitable weapon for it. True, the power should be drawn out of the sacrifice rather than the weapon, but the act of using his familiar in such a manner was enough to create a bridge between his Authority and the power stored within the sword shaped jewel.

To be sure the results weren't perfect; Alex could feel that while the maze had been empowered that empowerment was corrosive. Still, that was within acceptable parameters, he didn't need the Labyrinth to last too long, just long enough would do.

Well, whatever the case another condition for victory had been cleared, Emiya Shirou had been rendered a non-factor. This would let him turn his full attention to Guinevere.

She'd already been taken captive by his summoned Queen, now all that was left was to isolate her so he could finally have the chance to kill her.

Of course that battle couldn't take place on this island. Not only was the eighth Campione being held captive here, but it was also too close to the point where Lancelot was being held. If he was going to fight her he'd need to do it somewhere else. But, that was something that he'd already taken into account, he had already chosen the appropriate stage beforehand, a location near the Floating Island, but far enough away to ensure that help couldn't reach her swiftly should either of her allies manage to break free.

During the Meiji period, for the purpose of guarding the imperial capital Tokyo, the Japanese military of old had constructed three island outposts in the sea offshore from Chiba's Cape Futsu. These were Sea Fortress One, Two and Three.

As the stage of his final confrontation with the queen of the Divine Ancestors, Alec had chosen Sea Fortress Two.

This was an uninhabited island under the management of the Coast Guard where civilian entry was prohibited. The lighthouse, still in use, was powered by solar batteries. Apparently, fire fighting training was also conducted here sometimes. Given that the little island contained little more than ruins and debris, Alec could fight as violently as he chose without any concerns.

It took only an instant to reach it. Flying at lightning speed for a split second was all that was needed. One moment he was on the Floating island, the next he could see the island of Sea Fortress Two beneath him.

Landing, he resumed human form and sent his mental summons to the Queen. Really, other than the face concealing restriction, she was a convenient servant indeed, and quite a precious treasure in many ways. He'd issued orders to her for capturing Guinevere and he knew they would be carried out; all he'd needed to do was provide her with the opportunity. To be sure he'd been a bit concerned when Guinevere summoned those two spirits, but he'd been confident that even if his Queen couldn't defeat them in short order she would have no trouble escaping them in time to completing her mission. All she had to do was reach the Devil's Sea in time to catch Lancelot while she was trapped by the Behemoth sphere he'd set up beforehand. This was in preparation for the moment when all other conditions were clear, when all of Guinevere's additional protections had been stripped away and it was just the two of them.

He didn't have to wait long, shortly after he landed the Queen finally returned to him with her prize.

The grotesquely beautiful female familiar lay down on the ground the girl she had been carrying in her arms, then spread her wings and once more took flight. Her movements were oddly frantic, as though making an exit because she was embarrassed about her appearance. Alex frowned slightly, guessing from her behaviour that her face must have been seen while she was abducting Guinevere. She'd completed her task, but she would no longer be available for him to call until a certain amount of time had passed. Well, that was acceptable; he didn't need her for this next part.

Straining to keep a smug smile from forming on his lips the Black Prince casually approached the witch queen as she struggled to her feet and brushed the dirt from the material of her white skirt.

"Finally, its time for us to catch up on old times, Guinevere."

There wasn't any threat in his tone. Indeed, he sounded as though he were greeting her across a table at some small café, but there wasn't any deception there either. This was no polite conversation; this was the prelude to a death match.

"Such a description is only appropriate for a reunion between lovers or friends. Incongruent with your title of Prince, your Highness still has no idea how to treat a lady."

Guinevere responded to Alec with a measured calm that was at odds with her young appearance, though beneath her apparent control Alex could see her growing trepidation. The immortal child was putting on a brave face, but alone as she was, without any of her precious allies to defend her, the timidity that had made her flee from him many a time in the past was starting to assert itself.

"To have been invited to this kind of place when the location of the 'King of the End' was finally within reach . . . When both King Shirou and Sir Knight had both come to lend their support as well, truly you are a king that is not only cruel, but also most lacking in chivalry."

"Chivalry is hardly something that would fit me very well; indeed I think it would be quite uncomfortable. As for us . . . the truth is that our relationship is not that lacking in intimacy. Do you know how many incidents you have caused as a result of your inability to let go of your obsession with your past master? I have grown tired of dealing with you."

Alec deliberately posed his reply with casual familiarity, but despite his tone the smile on the corner of his lips displayed merciless egoism.

"Amongst those who have lost their lives in the schemes of you and your fellow Divine Ancestors, many were my friends and subordinates. It's time for you to pay the debts you owe them . . . Ah yes, by the way, there's also that woman who worsened her health in order to seal away that Arthur you summoned."

The memories concerning their eight-year-long conflict were reawakened.

The simple fact was that had Guinevere simply been a witch who harassed Alec, even if annoyed, he would probably not be so intent on eliminating her. It would have been similar to the way he tolerated Princess Alice despite her general irreverence and her tendency to needle him. Even the Holy Grail could have been, if not overlooked, at least side stepped. He'd have found some way to steal it without also taking the life of the one that currently held it.

"But there's no rule saying that the Witch Queen does not have to pay her debts. I'm just doing a little stint as a debt collector, just on this one occasion. I'm sorry but would you please indulge this little wilful wish of mine?"

There was simply too much bad blood between them for it to end any other way. Perhaps when this had begun it had simply been his wish to complete his father's lifelong quest of finding the Holy Grail, but as the years had passed and events had unfolded one after the other things had changed. Now, beneath the thin veneer of politeness there was a definite will to kill emanating from the fourth Campione.

"You revived Avalon for this . . ."

The beautiful child-like face of the Witch Queen was viciously distorted as she glared at Alec.

"Not only did you find out Master's sleeping location before us, set a shameless trap in that place, force Guinevere to break her ties with King Shirou and even separate me from Sir Knight, you had to impose such a self-righteous explanation! Alexander Gascoigne, you really are the worst!"

There was actual indignation in her tone, but then he supposed that was to be expected. The Witch Queen might look like a child, she might act like a human, but in the end she was an immortal, a being that had seen the rise and fall of empires. To her what value could mortal lives really have? So some had been lost in the course of her activities? To her they must be like butterflies, pretty, interesting, but ultimately short lived and largely irrelevant. Should some get squashed in the waking of her king . . . well, it was a shame, but that was just how the world was. Truly, Alex wasn't sure if that made it better or simply made him more furious.

"Like you, I am in a scolding mood, but its best that I don't act on it."

Alec dismissed the Divine Ancestor's accusation with a heavily sardonic smile.

"Now you must make a choice. Are you going to find a way to escape, avoiding risk even though the 'King of the End' lies before you? Or will you play your ultimate hand in a bid for everything? It's one or the other, now choose."

This was it, at any point in the past; Guinevere would surely have picked the former, escape and then wait for Lancelot's rescue. But this time things were different, the reason for her very existence was right there before her, only he stood in her way. If she did choose to run, would the island remain? Alexander Gascoigne was many things, many of which she disliked or even outright hated, but one thing she could not deny was that he was resourceful and brilliant. If she were to run what was to say that he wouldn't find some way to ensure she could never reach the isle again? Such a thing should be impossible, but then again Campione were born from the impossible.

He could practically see those thoughts running through her head, see her realizing her options, see her consider following her old patterns. However this time things were different, this time she was trapped between only two choices, gamble with her remaining life to seek the King of the End, or abandon him entirely? Which would it be?

Feeling magic begin to surge up within the tiny form of the eternal child the Black Prince allowed himself a small self-satisfied smile.

Of course she would have to go this route. It was risky, but he'd carefully cut off all her other options until this was the only one available to her, the option he wanted. Guinevere was playing her final card, casting aside her immortality to become a dragon once more. In that form she would once more hold the power of a god and be able to fight him on an even plane. However even if she were to win she wouldn't be long for the world afterwards. From looking at countless centuries her life would instead be measured in months or even weeks.

Well, that was all in keeping with his desires. He wanted to fight her at the height of her power. What he wanted was an absolute and total victory over the Witch Queen. He wanted her to bring out all her hidden trump cards, all the aces that she'd been storing up, just so that he could either snatch them away from her or crush them before her eyes. In the end he planned to leave her with nothing, totally broken in the face of his complete triumph. After all, what better w-

The fireball that hit the side of his head caught him completely by surprise, its impact was strong enough to knock him off his feet and send him sprawling in the dirt. It hadn't been potent enough to break through his magic resistance, but the fact it had struck him at all was significant enough to be of concern.

Under normal circumstances he could have dodged it, fast though it was it was nothing on his Black Lightning. But it came from an utterly unexpected direction. There shouldn't have been anything from there! The island should have been completely deserted save for him and Guinevere. Everyone else that should have been a factor was accounted for. Lancelot, Emiya Shirou, the History Compilation Committee, even Kusanagi Godou and his female attendants. None of them could be here! He'd taken long and careful steps to ensure they were either accounted for or not involved. So who . . . ?

"I don't think that you should be taking that step just yet, Guinevere. King Shirou would be very disappointed if you did."

It took Alex only a moment to get to his feet and to drop into a ready stance; however the sight that greeted him gave him pause. Standing at the shore of the small island, the waters of the sea lapping at the stones behind her like an obedient puppy awaiting instruction. Long red hair with touches of blue, eyes the colour of the sea, a tall beautiful body that possessed a gorgeous sensuality that no mortal could hope to match. Garbed in clothes vaguely resembling a brief south Asian sari that displayed that body to full effect without vulgarity. A shawl wound round her elbows as it hung behind her.

Of course he knew who this was, even if it was his first time seeing her. His time had been spent reading many reports about the various strange guests that had taken up residence in the eighth Campione's manor, and though the majority of his focus had been upon his enemy he'd also taken the time to study the others there. The former members of the pretentiously named Circle of the Chosen had hardly been worth noting. Indeed, aside from some amusement at the fact that they had ended up being enslaved by the girl they'd sought to kidnap Alex had more or less dismissed them from his mind. The agents from the History Compilation Committee had been of more note, but in the end had been dismissed as largely inconsequential. There had been the resurrected souls that now served the King of Steel, but they hadn't been anything to be concerned with either.

Then there were those that merited his attentions. His sister had been one such to pay attentions to, a young girl who possessed an enormous amount of natural magic as well as having somehow bound some sort of divine spirit to her will. For a time Alex had considered the possibility that Illyasviel Von Einzbern was some sort of hidden Divine Ancestor, but in the end had discarded the theory. Still, she was powerful enough to be a concerning factor, but since she was currently abroad in England she had no way of being a factor in this situation.

That had left the last of Emiya Shirou's guests to consider, Tiamat, a crippled full goddess that had somehow ended up the houseguest of the same Campione she had helped Venus kidnap and enslave. On the face of it her living there was utterly incomprehensible, she should have been slain by the young Campione, either as revenge or to gain a new Authority, but there it was. Alex hadn't been able to work out why she was being allowed to stay there, not to his satisfaction anyway. Oh, he had theories, ranging from the eighth Devil King planning to make her some sort of servant all the way to him having fallen in love with her, but nothing concrete to prove any of them.

Still, even if he hadn't been able to divine the reason for her being there he had been able to learn enough about her interactions with Guinevere to be able to predict her action in regards to his current scheme. There had been multiple reports that had shown that the diminished goddess made no secret of her animosity to the queen of the Divine Ancestors. Obviously she hadn't been able to act on it whilst both of them had been guests of Emiya Shirou, but everything he'd been able to obtain had confirmed that the Mother of Dragons would be delighted to see the Divine Ancestor out of the picture.

So why was she here?!

It was a mad risk for her to take. Weakened as she was Tiamat had little to no hope of being able to survive in battle with him. Entering this arena was irrational.

"T-Tiamat-sama? Wh-why are you here?"

It seemed that Guinevere shared his confusion. The power that had started to build around her small form was fading now. Instead the Witch Queen was backing away slightly so as to open some more room between herself and both the other occupants of the small island.

This . . . this wasn't good. Two of his Authorities were currently unavailable to him since they were engaging other targets. The Labyrinth was trapping the King of Steel while Weird Greed was holding Lancelot. As for the Faceless Queen, he couldn't resummon her soon enough to be of any use. On the other hand, weakened though she might be, Tiamat had access to three of her own Authorities, and if she were to work with Guinevere they might have a good chance of overwhelming him. All in all he was in a critical situation.

At least that was how the naïve would see it.

Internally he bit back a savage grin. Odds? What did he care for odds, he who had killed a god in the fullness of his power when he, Alex Gascoigne, had been a mortal with nothing but his wits and bravery? Hadn't he already fought gods when he only had one or two Authorities to work with before? This was just another challenge.

That was when the semi-translucent tendrils shot out of the water behind him and wrapped around his legs.

In the brief instant between turning around to see the unholy mixture of tendrils, tentacles, scales, semi-see-through skin and HUGE DAMNED TEETH, and him turning into lightning to burn through the limbs holding him Alex most assuredly did NOT let out a rather unmanly shriek of terror.

But it was a pretty close thing.

Alright . . . maybe this wasn't going to be quite as easy as he thought.


-()-


Internally Tiamat was railing at herself, asking if her loss of power had also resulted in her losing her sanity. This was madness, no matter how much of her power she might have been able to regain in the months since her betrayal she was still simply a shadow of her true self. To be sure the battle on the island had helped her recover a surprising amount of her strength, though exactly how she wasn't sure yet, but even so she had barely regained a tenth of her old strength. If she was to be honest with herself she'd admit that she had reached a level of recovery where she didn't strictly need to remain under King Shirou's protection, she was now strong enough to be able to fight off any jackal magician trying to use her as an easy route to becoming a Campione.

Of course she was by no means on par with a full god or a Devil King; right now she was occupying a sort of middle tier of power just above Divine Ancestors like Guinevere. The only other deity she'd ever heard having been in a similar situation was Athena, and the Queen of the Night had been stronger than Tiamat currently was. All of this added up to a simple single fact; she was stronger than she had been, but she wasn't nearly strong enough to fight a Campione.

So why was she here?

That was the question that went round and round in her head as she drew up all the power she could muster. Why was she risking her life to protect Guinevere? She didn't even like the Divine Ancestor, in fact if she were to be removed from the picture then it would only bring benefit as far as Tiamat was concerned. A rival for King Shirou's alliance would be eliminated and she would be in position to improve her own standing with her host, either by offering sympathy or support in any planned vengeance.

So why was she now standing shoulder to . . . well, not shoulder, not given that she was nearly two feet taller than the Witch Queen, but why was she standing beside her, rather than simply watching from the side?

Because she knew that Emiya Shirou wanted to save Guinevere, he wanted to keep her safe and he didn't want her to die.

It was so ridiculous that it was taking all her willpower not to break down in a combination of hysterical laughter and despairing tears. She was most likely about to engage in a doomed battle, and she was doing it because she didn't want a seventeen year old mortal to feel sad. Had she somehow gone insane?!

"Ah . . . so Tiamat-sama really has fallen in love with Sir Shirou. Truly Guinevere is most impressed that your maiden's heart would lead you to such lengths."

The Mother of Dragon's thoughts, which had been racing as she tried to sort out her feelings as well as plan the upcoming fight, came to a screeching halt as they were explosively derailed by the Witch Queen's words. Love? Her? No, that couldn't be it, surely! And what did she mean by 'maiden's heart'? She'd many lovers in the past, she'd been the wife to Perseus when she'd had her divinity sealed and borne him children.

A mad part of her wanted to forget about fighting the fifth Devil King and instead turn on Guinevere to rebuke her. Really, if there was anyone here that had fallen prey to the friendly charms of the King of Steel it would be the queen of the Divine Ancestors herself. Given the way she was always watching the young man when she thought no-one was paying attention to her, or the way she blushed when he paid her a compliment or hung on his words when he was talking, if anyone was playing the role of a love struck young maiden then it was her rather than Tiamat. For a moment she imagined them bickering back and forth, each trying to prove they were right.

Then Alexander Gascoigne moved, and all other considerations fell to the wayside.


-()-


Shirou snarled in frustration as he glared down at the Gem Sword.

At first he'd been elated to have found his lost treasure. In hindsight it wasn't too hard to work out what the source of his own prana reinforcing the Labyrinth might be. He'd known that Gascoigne had it, but the thought that he'd be able to actually use it hadn't seriously occurred to him. Shirou had been more concerned that his fellow Campione would accidentally end up breaking or detonating the sword in his attempts to either study or use it. He'd thought that the principles of the rudimentary jewel craft that he'd used to make it were simply too dissimilar from anything the mages of this world had for it to be used. Perhaps that had been arrogant of him, but the simple truth was that the magecraft of this world lacked the sophistication of his own.

The ultimate root of this was in the simple fact that the magic of this world was, for lack of a better word, friendlier than back home. Here the roots of magic were tied up with the gods, and most spells were more akin to prayers than anything else. The gods wanted mortals to be acknowledged, if not outright worshiped, so consciously or not they lent their aid to mages so that their spells worked correctly. Even magic users that tapped into the more neutral forces that lacked any sort of intelligence had a much easier time of it than they would in Shirou's home dimension. By contrast those mages had to constantly walk a tightrope of control and care, lest the very forces they were dealing with twist against them and tear them apart. They had spent centuries learning convoluted and intricate ways of using prana without shredding themselves from the inside out, ways that the mages of this world would most likely never have thought of.

When looked at from that perspective he wasn't so overconfident in his belief that it was a far shot that anyone would be able to tap into his Gems Sword other than himself.

Sadly, that seemed to have been an error.

It had been something of a task to find the spot at which his sword stood. By its very nature the Labyrinth confused and deceived those caught in it, however the currents of prana being released into it had served as guiding threads that Shirou had been able to follow back to their source. It would have taken him hours on foot, even with Dragon Slaying Hero to speed things up, but on Snow's back it had only taken him a few minutes.

And that brought him back to his present situation.

He had found the Gem Sword, and there wasn't anything he could do about it.

When he'd first got here he'd thought that all he'd need to do was pull the sword out of the familiar it was impaling and thus cut off the feed to the Labyrinth. Once the Authority was bereft of its additional source of power all he'd have to do was bombard it with enough Broken Phantasms to make it collapse. The eighth Campione wouldn't even have to bother conserving his prana, not when he could simply refill his reserves by using his recovered Mystic Code.

Then he'd touched the Gem Sword and all his newly forming plans collapsed like a house of cards.

Fragile, that was the first word that sprang to mind. Cracked, damaged, crumbling, all of them were applicable, but at the same time none of them were accurate. Shirou had created the prana vessel using a combination of his Authority, his somewhat hazy inherited memories of jewel craft and his own Tracing magecraft. He knew this sword intimately, and all he needed was a touch to realize just what was wrong.

Whatever Gascoigne had done to the Gem Sword in order to let his Authority tap into it had made some sort of link between the divine power and the prana vessel. In theory it was a near perfect situation, the Labyrinth could continue to draw on more and more prana to rebuild or reinforce itself as needed. To be sure it couldn't last indefinitely; like an athlete taking steroids there would come a point where its use of foreign power would end up breaking it rather than strengthen it, but until that point it would be almost inescapable.

The problem was that the same link that let it draw out power was doing . . . something to the Gem Sword. It wasn't damaging it, not in any physical way, but somehow its leeching of prana was causing the Mystic Code to lose proper cohesion. It was as though tiny crack were appearing in the thaumaturgy that let the sword hold the prana it stored, and every time the Authority drew more power the cracks were spreading just that bit more.

This . . . this was bad. If he attacked the Labyrinth to blast his way out then it would draw out more prana to strengthen itself and cause the Gem Sword to completely collapse. If he physically pulled it out of the calf it was impaled in then the breaking of that link would most likely have more or less the same reaction.

In both cases all the stored up prana would be released in a single instant, probably in the form of an explosion. A very big one.

As far as Shirou could see his only real option at this point was to do absolutely nothing. If he just left it so that the Labyrinth was only taking in the absolute minimum prana it needed then the Gem Sword would probably stay intact until the Authority collapsed from erosion by the foreign energies. Once that happened he could retrieve the sword and see about repairing it before the entirety of Tokyo was rendered uninhabitable.

Had Gascoigne set this up? It seemed too reckless for the Black Prince . . . but on the other hand the young Emiya could see him doing it. Shirou could clearly envision it, the fourth Campione calmly shaking his head in disapproval while saying something like; 'All he had to do was act in a rational manner. He chose to act carelessly and so set off this disaster by his own hands. It's simply proof that he was unsuitable to own such an artefact in the first place.'

That seemed all too plausible. Gascoigne wouldn't feel in the least guilty that he was putting every man, woman and child in Tokyo in danger, because in his mind it was in no way his fault. He'd set things up so that it was Shirou's choice, as long as he stayed out of his way and let him kill Guinevere then there would be no issues. If he did set the Gem Sword off trying to break out . . . well, that was Shirou's decision, not Alex's fault in any way.

Hell, if you got rid of all the moral quandaries there was also the simple fact that if Shirou did set the sword off, either by accident or design, the resulting detonation might well end up killing not only the innocent, but also himself, Guinevere and Gascoigne. The sheer amount of stored prana might be able to pull it off.

Damn it! He was trapped!

No! There had to be a way out of this! But what? What was it?!