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.
You know, with the addition of this chapter I think I've now reached more than one million words on this fic. That truly boggles the mind, given that when I started I honestly wasn't sure my interest would hold past a few thousand or so. Yet here I am, several years later, and I'm pretty sure that in terms of sheer size this is the longest Fate/Stay Night fiction on the net.
Wow!
On a different note I recently purchased the Udon English translation of the Fate/Complete Materials; Character Materials, and I find myself both pleased and let down. On the one hand the artwork is gorgeous, crisp detailed renditions of the original game, and the variety of expressions and postures takes me back to when I was watching the playthroughs for the first time. There are also some translations of the character discussions between Kinoko Nasu and Takashi Takeuchi; those were pretty fun to read.
On the other hand there were some pretty glaring gaps, such as not giving the stats and abilities of the Servants, not giving descriptions of Noble Phantasms. More than that though, the translation seems to be sloppy and ill researched, like the bit about Zelretch. They say that he is a wizard, and one of the 'five living Magicians capable of using True Magic', I swear, they could have done a better job by simply copying and pasting from the Type-Moon Wiki.
Anyway, I think that's enough of my irritated ranting. Let me thank the people who sent me ideas and suggestions. Sorry I couldn't use them all, but I think that a few of you will spot more than one or two places where I took your suggestions to heart. I hope you feel I did them justice.
Also, I've still got a few slots free if anyone still wants to send me ideas for a Master in my planned Holy Grail War. As always I can't promise that they will be used, but any inspiration is greatly appreciated.
SPOILERS.
I'll be honest, I'm not completely satisfied with this chapter, but the sad fact is that it needs to be done. This chapter is about tying up a few loose ends before I get started on the next major adventure, that and some other things that I wanted to get done as well. I think that it is a fairly decent job, but at the same time it seems to have dragged on for a bit, which is one of the reasons it took so long to get done. Still, despite my dissatisfaction I still think I've done an okay job, so I hope you enjoy it.
You know, the part where Lancelot goes shopping initially started as an Omake. I had this image of her going in, and then all the otaku there would fall to their knees in worship of her. She'd be a bit surprised because she'd kept her divine aura suppressed, but then the only other female in the shop informs her that these otaku would worship any girl that came in, so long as she was cute. In the end though it started to grow on me as I included more and more detail, so after a bit I decided to make it a proper scene in the chapter. I hope you find it both entertaining and funny.
Shirou's interactions with Guinevere in regards to Artus are something that I felt was rather overdue. This Shirou might not have had a romantic involvement with Saber, but she was a dear friend and someone that had a major impact on his life. I've been planning for a while to have the two of them sit down for a talk about him, but there never seemed to be a correct time for it to be done. It didn't happen during the first weeks of her residence because he was still recovering from his encounter with Venus. It didn't take place on the island since that was meant to be a 'no work' holiday. Afterwards things just got too busy. Since this chapter details one of the few peaceful times that Shirou has had while Guinevere has been his guest I thought I should get this done since I couldn't think of a reason why it shouldn't take place.
It was a chance to go into some detail about the King of the End's capabilities and try to put them into a frame of reference that is easily understood by those less familiar with the Campione world. These questions seemed the sort of thing that Shirou would ask, under the circumstances.
The part revolving around the whole mess with the History Compilation Committee was something else that needed to be resolved, and I found myself both disappointed and pleased with it. When I first got the idea of a conflict within the Committee it was with the intention of there being a civil war going on during the last portion of the current arc so that both Shirou and Godou would be cut off from a vital resource. However as I planned it out I realized that not only was it unrealistic, as I couldn't see Shirou, Godou or the elders letting it get to that point, and inconsequential, as neither Campione really relied on the Committee in any great way. The more I planned it out the more I realized it would be an unnecessary complication that would simply make the story harder to write.
Instead I've resolved it as logically as I could here, Shirou accepting authority over them, with the condition that those dissatisfied could leave, seemed like the most reasonable outcome. That it serves as a minor point of contentions between the two Kings of Japan ties in nicely to some plans I have.
Once again, I would like to thank my Beta for his time and effort in making sure this chapter is up to snuff for my reader. Rest assured, without his aid you'd be dealing with a much inferior final piece.
Chapter Thirty Five: Nightfall Oncoming
"This knight does not understand why Sir Shirou doesn't simply ride his great mount to this marketplace." Lancelot commented as the car slowed down and slid into the free parking spot.
"I think that Snow might end up causing a bit of an uproar," the Emiya heir replied, "If a pegasus shows up here then it'll either cause a panic, or we'll be mobbed by people looking for a show."
"Which is just as it should be!" The Knight of the Lake declared. "What other response should the common masses have for their King other than fear and adoration? I could have summoned up my own steed, then the two of us could have arrived together far a true spectacle! Your Snow and my Steadfast together would have been a sight to stop entire crowds to stare in awe and wonder!"
Shirou had already been having some concerns about her going out in public like this, but right now those concerns were receiving some very unwelcome reinforcements. Still, he had basically committed himself to this. Like it or not as her host it was his duty to see to it that Lancelot could interact with the mortal world without causing a huge mess. The irony of the situation, that a God Slayer was trying to essentially educate a god, was not lost on him. However he didn't really see any way around it.
Tiamat had been a bit more familiar with the mortal world due to her centuries as a Divine Ancestor. In that time she had, due to her reduced power, been forced to deal with human minions and had to exchange favours and materials with others in order to accrue the resources she needed. This had meant she'd needed to keep at least somewhat abreast of the trends of mortal society, if for no other reason than to know what kinds of prices she could quote or be charged without being cheated. She might not have been of the mortal world, but she had kept afoot in it, if only out of necessity. When she had regained her divinity she had still been weak, so the same logic had applied. Now, even as close to full strength as she was, she knew that her host wished her to avoid interfering violently with the affairs of mortals, so she maintained the same demeanour was dealing with them.
Lancelot, on the other hand, had never had that stage of weakness. She was a goddess in her full strength, and normally would have been more akin to a typhoon tearing through the city than she would a mortal. Heretic Gods didn't think, they didn't plan, they didn't consider. All they did was act upon their wants and desires in a sort of carefree madness as they gloried in having escaped their legend and being able to rampage as they wished. Lancelot was a Heretic God, but her circumstances were a bit unusual. Rather than having forced her way from her legend due to frustration, desire or simply wanting something different she had instead been called down to the mortal plane for a reason and a mission. Additionally she had not spent the last few centuries trapped in her legend, rather she had been in a half summoned state as she acted as a bodyguard to Guinevere and the other witches that were afforded protection by their covenant with her.
As such she was less susceptible to the battle madness that would normally have taken her over, especially after her defeat at Shirou's hands. She was now sworn to him as a knight, and as such she knew it was her duty to comport herself in manner that would not bring him shame or dishonour. As such she wasn't going to go on a destructive rampage, at least not without severe provocation, anyway.
The problem was that she didn't need to be malicious in order to cause him difficulty. Unlike Guinevere or Tiamat, the Knight of the Lake had little to no idea of how to interact with mortals in a modern setting. Instead, she fell back upon experience that she'd gained the last time that she'd had any major interaction with mortals, namely back when she'd been a knight to King Arthur and the mortals had been his subjects.
Fortunately Lancelot was by no means stupid. She had been able to master modern appliances with relative ease, and at her host's insistence had gained at least some understanding of social conventions. This little outing was the first test of how well she'd learnt those lessons.
"The doors are now unlocked, Shirou-sama."
The former Circle member that was acting as their driver spoke in a somewhat nervous tone. Given that she had been selected as the transporter to people with enough divine power to remove Tokyo from the map her uncertainty could be regarded as understandable.
"Alright, the store is waiting for you, don't feel rushed, take the time to do things comfortably." Shirou advised, having visions of her charging in there and demanding what she wanted at sword point, only to depart and leave his card on the table as some sort of payment, forgetting that she had to put in the number he'd painstakingly had her memorize.
"Very well then!"
In a single movement Lancelot had opened the door and was out onto the roadside pavement surveying the shop before her as though evaluating an oncoming army. The shop in question was quite a large one, one of those that catered to just about anything that the random otaku might be interested in handing over their hard earned money for. Anime, manga, video games, figurines, posters, wall hangings, cosplay, light novels, construction kits, and of course a large selection of H entertainment. Quite frankly if it weren't for that last little detail he'd probably have brought Illya here for an afternoon. Letting her run rampant in there with one of his credit cards would most likely ensure that she'd forgive him just about anything.
Instead he was going to let Lancelot du Lac go in there on her own to see if she could handle the task of buying her own game.
Ah well, what was the worst that could happen?
. . . Had he really just thought that?
As the goddess began to stride purposefully into the store Shirou pulled out his mobile phone and quickly began to call the History Compilation Committee. Maybe he hadn't yet made up his mind in regards to whether or not he was going to take them over, but one thing he could do right now was call on them when he felt he might need their services.
As Lancelot pushed the door to the shop open and stepped inside another customer came out, a somewhat skinny young man that was carrying two bags of shopping. As they passed each other the young man's eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the gorgeous beauty passing him by. His eyes remained locked on her as she went by him, and he seemed to sort of swivel in place as he continued to watch her walk away. Shirou noted that his eyes had dropped from staring at the back of her head to instead lock on to her backside instead. One that was shown quite nicely due to the rather tight leather leggings that the goddess favoured.
The young man was apparently so fixed upon staring through the now closing glass door that he didn't realize he hadn't stopped walking. As a result his gaze was broken due to the sudden pain of walking into a motorcycle that had been parked by the road. Both the young man and the machine went down together in a sprawl of limbs, machinery and spilled manga. There was also quite a bit of cursing.
Yes, perhaps some memory manipulators would be a good idea. Shirou had the disturbing notion that things were only going to go downhill from here.
-()-
Lancelot confidently strode into the . . . huh, what should she call it? Clearly it was too large to be called a stall, but neither was it a market. She knew that King Shirou called it a shop, but to her mind that word conjured up images of the dingy little shacks that the mortals of Briton had thrown together in order to have some place to sell their wares. This . . . well, it compared to those shacks in the way the palaces of the time compared to the chicken coups used by farmers.
With a shake of her head the knight goddess dismissed the thought and continued in. What did it matter what this manner of building was called? What was of import was that her host assured her that it was a location where she could purchase Bloodline Clans 2: The Bloodier Clans! The first game in the series had been most entertaining to play, so much so that she had gone so far as to complete the game multiple times using avatars in different classes. She had been disappointed with how poorly the Knight class had fared, but had found the Crusader to be enjoyable. What had come as most of a surprise had been the enjoyment she'd derived from playing an Arcanist. She was looking forward to this second instalment. Illyasviel, the adopted sister of her King, had learnt of her interest in the series and had informed her of the recent release of the next instalment. The snowy haired mage had informed Lancelot that this version contained more than seven new classes, revised versions of the old ones, and a new 'Subclass' system that allowed for even greater flexibility in customization.
She could hardly wait.
Still, this was going to be a new experience. The Knight of the Lake was an old goddess, despite her eternal youth. She was regarded as an example of the most Primitive Steel since her origins could be traced back to some of the earliest of the equestrian tribes that had first begun to use metal in their weapons. She had begun life as a symbol of both life and death, the maiden wielding the weapon, and had developed from there. She had been many things in her life, a goddess, a queen, an amazon, a knight, a protector, so many things. However, now that she thought about it, the one thing she couldn't ever recall having been before was a customer.
It was almost laughable, the notion that in her entire existence she had never performed the simple act of paying for her possessions. As a goddess she had been given tribute, as a queen she had taken what she wished, even as a knight her king had been the one to provide for her by giving her a portion of his tithe. In all the millennia of her life this would be the first time that she would hand over money in exchange for what she wanted.
She was actually looking forward to trying it.
Entering the . . . alright, she was going to think of it as a shop, if only because she couldn't be bothered to try to come up with a more suitable description. Anyway, entering the shop was somewhat akin to stepping into another world. So many colours, so many images, over there a screen was displaying some animated story she didn't recognize, nearby there were a number of dresses that seemed to have so many ruffles and ribbons that she doubted even her beloved charge would have felt comfortable wearing it. It was a veritable bombardment upon the senses.
No, she had to remain focused upon her objective! King Shirou had warned her of the perils in these businesses, of how they would seek to distract her so that she would purchase more than she had originally intended to. She would not be taken in by such trickery! Instead she would boldly march up to the shop keeper and claim the prize she sought.
Now . . . where was the shop keeper?
Her host had informed her that the keeper of this business would be simple to find, however despite those words Lancelot could not seem to spot one that fitted the role. If she recalled correctly from the moving pictures that King Shirou had shown her, 'movies' she believed they were called, then the one she sought should be behind a desk or counter with one of those money counting contraptions that she had seen. Unfortunately no such sight was visible to her, much to her annoyance. Ah well, if she could not find him herself then she would fall back upon a tried and true tactic that had served her well in millennia past.
Make it someone else's problem as well.
Glancing about she noted that she was in no way short of potential candidates. Indeed, she seemed to be surrounded by a small crowd of young men that were staring at her with suitably worshipful gazes. As was to be expected for a goddess such as herself of course.
"You!" she declared, pointing at one of the bystander mortals at random.
"M-Me?"
His answer was more of a squeak than a word, but he seemed to flush with pleasure at the honour of being selected by her. Around him the others that had surreptitiously gathered closer looked on with a mixture of envy and sympathy that she really didn't understand. However she gave it no mind, instead she simply continued upon her chosen path.
"I require your assistance! Direct me to the illusive proprietor of this shop, I have a purchase to make!"
"Errr . . . you mean Hiroshi? Ah . . . well, you see . . . he's n-not here r-right now."
"What?! Why would a merchant leave his stall? How does he intend to earn his money if he is not there to take it?! For that matter, how does he intend to keep villains from pilfering his wares if he is not there to safeguard them?"
"Well, Hiroshi sort of knows us," explained the young man, nervously shifting from foot to foot, "So he thinks it's okay to go to the back for a snack while we keep an eye on things. In return he gives us a discount on some of the stuff we buy."
"Well, go and fetch this 'Hiroshi', I have a purchase to make and I do not wish to be held up."
"Ah, yes! Yes ma'am, right away!"
As the young man dashed off Lancelot took a moment to look about her a bit more. Most of the garish pictures that adorned the walls were of minimal interest to her, but one particular one caught her eye. It depicted a blond haired man in intricate and impractical white armour wielding a sword with lightning crackling along its length. By his side was a blue haired female knight armed with a lance wreathed in swirls of water. She wasn't too sure about what it was, but something about the picture spoke to her.
"You!" She repeated her earlier action and simply selected another of those about her at random. "What is this picture related to?"
"That? That's one of the promo posters for Neo Camelot Rebirth! It's a new anime that came out last year. It turned out to be pretty popular, so there's word that there's going to be a second season coming up."
"Neo Camelot? So then, who are these knights?" the warrior goddess enquired.
"Oh, those are Gawain and Lancelot," He explained, apparently warming to the topic as he spoke because the hesitation faded from his voice. "Everyone was a bit taken aback when they made Lancelot a girl, but she's ended up being one of the most popular characters in the show."
"Truly?"
Well, that was a surprise. Lancelot knew that she was a popular figure in the legend that Guinevere had helped make popular, but always she had been depicted as a man since that was how the mortals of the time had perceive her. Wrapped in armour as she had been few had known her true identity as an Amazon queen, and those who did had remained silent upon the matter. To see a version of herself that was so depicted was . . . interesting.
"Yeah," the young man continued enthusiastically, "When she was first introduced everyone thought that she was just going to be a standard support character to the main lead, maybe just another romantic interest. But she really fleshed out as the series went on, so much so that she actually ended up as being more popular than the main lead!"
He paused for a moment and looked Lancelot over.
"You know . . . if you wore a wig I think you might be able to cosplay as her."
The Knight of the Lake didn't quite know what this 'cosplay' he spoke of was, but she had to admit that she was becoming greatly interested in this animated story that he'd mentioned.
"Ah . . . ah, sorry to keep you waiting."
The apology came from an overweight man that had just emerged from a back room with the first young man that Lancelot had sent off.
"Now, what can I-"
"Yes!" The warrior goddess cut of his words as she spun to face him, her arms crossed and her posture imperious. "I came here to purchase a copy of the game 'Bloodline Clans 2'; however I now have an addition to make to it!"
Spinning in place she faced the group that had still been hanging around.
"All of you . . . assemble all suitable purchases related to this Neo Camelot, and focus upon this Lancelot!" Seeing them pause she decided they needed additional incentive. "NOW!"
That worked. Immediately all eight of them had shot off to different parts of the store and were busily assembling various things for her.
"Errr, you do know that they don't actually work here, right?"
"And yet they are willing to serve."
The absolute confidence with which she spoke seemed to be enough to rob the merchant of further words, at least until the first of her 'helpers' arrived, carrying an armload of various things. This was quickly joined by more products as more of the youths that had been swayed to her side returned with their own acquisitions. In short order the merchant was sorting them into bags and ringing them up upon his machine.
"Are . . . are you sure that you want to buy all of these?" he enquired as the last of them were scanned by the small handheld devise he was using. "This isn't going to be cheap, you know?"
Lancelot didn't respond. Instead she simply slapped down the card that her host had provided her with. She had no fear as to whether or not it would contain sufficient funds, after all, was not King Shirou now known far and wide as the 'All Wealthy'?
"Hold on!"
The merchant's move to swipe the card through another one of his machines was brought to a pause as the final one of the young men that had been helping her staggered over. The cause of his unsteady steps was the large pile of boxes his arms were currently balancing in a rather precarious tower.
"I found this! Hiroshi must have gotten it in on the last shipment, because this is the latest one. I read about this in Dai Dai Neko, it's the latest 3d printed version, high quality resin based and heat hardened. There's even a version of the lance in here, all you've got to do is assemble it!"
"Hey, is that the-"
"Yes, and it's even-"
"Hey, do you think that she'd-"
"Well, it is adjustable, maybe we can-"
"Yeah! She'd look awesome in-"
The young men that had been serving her descended into mad chattering as the flocked about the latecomer. Clearly whatever it was that he had brought back with him had been enough to draw all their attentions.
"Are you sure you want to add that to this lot?" The merchant asked. "I brought that in mainly as an attraction, I didn't think there'd be anyone who'd be willing to casually buy it, it's just too expensive."
"But come on!" One of the youths said, one of older ones in the crowd unless Lancelot missed her guess. "Look at her, she's perfect!"
"Truly spoken words," the Knight of the Lake declared, a pleased smile on her face that her natural supremacy had been acknowledged. "But what is this that you refer to, and why does it cause you all such interest?"
"It's a full cosplay kit," explained the store owner, carefully taking each box from the pile. "The thing is that this isn't the normal mass produced stuff, this is a limited production range, each made with high quality materials and great attention to detail and design. Word is that the run was created as a proof of concept, a pitch that a live action version could be made. Anyway, there are only about one hundred complete suits, but the whole thing is so expensive that the decision was made to sell the parts individually. The problem is that the total price is so much that think that only about ten of the complete suits have been bought, the rest are sold as individual pieces to use as ornaments. Look, miss, I can see that you've got money to spare, and I can see why the boys think it would look good on you, but are you really sure that you want to shell out that much?"
Lancelot . . . had pretty much no idea what he was talking about. 'High quality materials'? 'A proof of concept run'? The only thing that she was really able to take away from the merchants words was that this . . . this false suit of armour was in some way limited in quantity and highly prized enough to be costly. Well, she wanted to see what this armour of her fictional self looked like.
"One shall purchase it!" she declared, "This knight would like to see what this suit of armour looks like!"
As soon as the words were out of her mouth she felt a little irritated with herself. She had assured her gracious host that she would do her utmost not to allow her habits as a deity to cause a disruption. She had even gone so far as to watch a few more of the animated adventures that Illyasviel Von Einzbern had provided her with so that she knew the speech mannerisms to affect, rather than her normal choice of words. But here she was, slipping back into her familiar patterns as soon as she grew slightly excited.
However, by the looks of things her slip hadn't caused any unpleasant attention. Instead all of the young men, and even the shop keeper were all staring at her with eyes that seemed to be shimmering with unshed tears. The experience was at once slightly disturbing and pleasantly nostalgic. It vaguely reminded her of the worship she had once enjoyed from the mortals that had sworn their lives and service to her, how they had gazed upon with awe and adoration.
"Oh god, she's perfect!"
"That was just like Lancelot in the anime!"
"Hey, I think there's a wig over here that would fit her just right! It's a bit long, but the colour and style are right!"
"Hey Hiroshi, don't you have that old changing room out the back? Couldn't she try the armour on now?"
That last one was of interest to her, more so than the rest anyway. She could try the armour on here? Well, obviously it wouldn't be true armour, but at the same time she liked the image that she had seen, it was as though there was a tiny connection there. Hmmmm . . .
Lancelot had said it many times before, but she was well aware that she was not an intellectual god. She was a self acknowledged . . . what was that term she'd heard on the anime the other day? Ah yes, she was a bit of a meat head. She had cunning as befitted a warrior, and she wasn't slow of wit or dull of thought. It was just that she didn't exercise those traits much outside of combat. As she had said to Guinevere before she wasn't any use in coming up with grand strategies or intricate plans, she was more at home with just charging across a field of battle, trampling foes beneath her hooves and impaling them upon her lance.
Still, she had been forced to do more thinking than she was accustomed to since having descended to the mortal plane. First it had been to aid Guinevere, then it had been to serve as her new king's knight, then it had been to achieve victory over the games that she had been playing. All of them had been small things, minor steps at most, but taken together it had led to some interesting affects upon the goddess. Namely she was becoming more astute and contemplative than before.
This image of her . . . this Lancelot that was a woman, might there be some connection there? Lancelot had long since come to accept that unlike other gods she was going to die. Or at least, die as much as an immortal god could. The Lancelot that existed in her legend was simply too dissimilar to who she was now, centuries of tales of the knight of Camelot that had overwritten her own legend, until the Knight of the Lake was a man in the minds of all those that knew of him. Were she to die then the next time the war god Lancelot manifested it would be a male knight due to those changes. It would not be death, as she would exist as part of that new deity, but she as she was now would no longer exist.
However, this . . . this new development changed things. Incarnated as she was the war goddess of the Lance could still feel a slight connection to her legend. Enough that she could feel it changing ever so slightly.
The connection formed in her mind, and it was enough to make her blink. This animated show; it was promoting the notion of Lancelot as a woman once more. It was being watched by many many mortals; thousands of them, tens of thousands, maybe even hundreds of thousands, and every one of them now had a mental image of the female knight Lancelot. It did not have age to it, it didn't have the weight of centuries of belief and repetition, but it was feeding into her legend, and it was reinforcing the long lost part of her that was her female identity.
"C'mon, if you're going to buy them can't you at least try them on here? If we can get some shots it would be awesome!"
"Yeah, we could even use them to promote the image!"
"Hey, we could enter her in that online competition! She'd be a shoe in!"
Lancelot listened to them with half an ear, but the majority of her attention was still focused on her thoughts. There was something she could do to use this, but for the time being she wasn't too sure what it was. Honestly, she wasn't used to this, used to having to think so hard, used to having to come up with ideas like this. She wasn't stupid, but she was . . . inexperienced. So, she fell back on what she knew best, doing what she wanted and not caring too much about the consequences. Well, not too much anyway, she imagined that her new king would be vexed with her if she were to summon her true armour, call up her soldiers and steed, and loot this shop before riding off with her loot, trampling all that would stand in her way. That said, she doubted he would mind too much if she tried on this fake armour and saw how it looked on her.
"Now, show this knight to the chamber where she may don this new armour!" she declared. "Also, acquire the false hair that you spoke of earlier, if one is to don this role, then she will do so in its completeness!"
There was a brief moment of quiet, then all the young men were falling over each other to help.
-()-
Shirou was getting a bit concerned. His best estimate had been that it would only take Lancelot about five minutes to buy the game she wanted, but it had already been nearly half an hour, and she still hadn't come out of the store.
On the other hand, the store wasn't on fire, being overrun by suits of living armour, being blasted with lightning or inundated by mystic fog, so that meant at least something was going more or less right. In fact, now that he looked, the only thing that seemed even slightly out of place was the occasional flash from inside the store. Not a flash of lightning, he'd almost jumped out of the car when the first one went off, but rather the familiar flash of a camera.
Actually, now that he thought about it, hadn't there been rather a lot of those flashes? What were they taking pictures of, it wasn't like there was going to be anything too exciting in there.
. . . Inside the store that a goddess had gone into.
. . . And the flashes had started not too long after she did.
. . . And why was this only occurring to him now?
Blast it all, he'd let himself drift off into contemplation about the wretched mess with the History Compilation Committee again! Alright, calm down. As he'd noticed, the building wasn't on fire or anything like that; people weren't running out screaming, so maybe it wasn't as bad as he thought it could be? Was that a naive hope?
Only one way to find out.
"Please wait here, I'm going to go and see what's holding Lancelot up. Oh, and call the Committee, have get a 'clean up crew' ready in case she's done anything . . . too showy."
"O-of course, Shirou-sama."
The agreement was offered somewhat shakily, but the King of Steel didn't really pay it any attention. Instead his mind was more focused on what might have happened. Clearly it wasn't anything violent, he'd have noticed if his knight had started doing anything like start a fight or something like that, the war goddess wasn't subtle after all. So it had to be something else. Frankly he was hoping it was something simple, like her having stumbled across an anime being played on a demo screen or something like that, and she'd gotten caught up watching it and just lost track of time. That would probably be the best case scenario, but he doubted he was that lucky. What was more likely was that she'd been challenged to a game on a demo console, and was currently demonstrating her inhuman speed and co-ordination when it came to playing the games she liked. That would be irritating to deal with, but it was a damned sight better than the worst case scenario, namely her losing her temper and having inflicted some sort of punishment upon them. Given her nature it was unlikely, but still the thought wouldn't go away no matter how logically he tried to dismiss it.
Whatever, he'd just have to deal with what he might find. Now-
"Camelot shall never fall to the likes of you!"
Anything else that he might have thought was cut off by the sight before him. When he had heard those words Shirou had been worried that somehow some idiot had managed to piss her off enough that she had declared him an enemy to the ancient kingdom she had once pledged her loyalty to.
"""PERFECT!"""
The enthusiastic chorus of voices was accompanied by a series of flashes that left Shirou momentarily blinded. Pausing in place he blinked a few times, clearing the spots from his vision. As he did so he heard someone moving towards him and instinctively stepped out of their way. He was able to avoid a collision, but found himself pressed up against a stack of merchandise. As his eyes cleared he found himself staring into the eyes of an anime style Darth Vader. Huh, he hadn't known that there was an anime version of the famed science fiction film. Apparently his bumping into it must have triggered some sort of internal mechanism, because a small electronic voice began proclaiming itself to be his father. At the back of his mind an image formed of him wielding a glowing Excalibur and Kiritsugu dressed in the trench coat he'd worn to 'work' while holding that massive hunting gun that had fired his mystic codes. Except that his adopted father was also wearing the famed mask of Darth Vader and the two of them were in that space station.
. . . Alright, if he was thinking things like this then maybe Illya had been more right than she'd known when she'd told him he needed a hobby.
Brushing the thought away the King of Steel turned away from the toys and took in the scene before him. It looked as though Lancelot had been . . . busy, that was the only possible explanation for what he was seeing.
The far end of the shop seemed to have been converted into some sort of improvised photo studio. A pair of plaster columns, some sort of red satin sheet and a large towel or sheet with an image of a far off city surrounded by woods had all been set up to act as a backdrop to the one standing before them. the floor was covered by an off white tarp that looked to have hastily been thrown down and the whole thing was illuminated by a number of desk lamps, ones decorated with characters from various anime, that apparently been pressed into service.
And in the middle of this whole arrangement was Lancelot. She now had blue hair, and she was wearing armour that looked to be more fantasy inspired rather than practical. It was also a tad on the fetishized side, given that it had a boob window in the breastplate, something that any decent armourer would have preferred to cut their own arm off than make. In her left hand she was holding a shield with some sort of dragon design on it, and in her right was a weapon that vaguely resembled a jousting lance, assuming it had been designed by someone that wanted it to be used in melee, and who had little to no idea of how to construct a functional weapon. To top it all off both the armour and the weapons had the tell-tale look of plastic rather than metal. Granted, it was damned good, probably enough to fool the average layman, but Shirou had a more intimate knowledge of metal and armour than most people.
Still, all of this was secondary to the simple most glaring fact; Lancelot du Lac, war goddess and knight of the King of Steel, was currently posing in front of more than half a dozen stereotypical otaku who were all frantically taking pictures on the cell phones, tablets, cameras or any visual recording medium they might have had. In fact, he wasn't sure but he thought that one in the corner might actually be trying to scrawl something down in a notebook he had.
"-e've already had more than ten thousand hits on the new spread! Shall we try to-?"
"-kay, I'm loading it up to the site now! HAH! They're already commenting on-"
"-lready taken third place, even though it's only been there ten minutes! Maybe we should-"
"-ey, HEY! I've just got an email from the main studio! They're asking if they could schedule for a publicity-"
"Ah, my King! Welcome, welcome, this knight is please that you have arrived to witness one's triumph!"
All around her there was a general jabber as everyone seemed to be doing their best to shout the loudest, but even so Lancelot's voice cut over them with all the ease of a lion's roar being heard over the chirping of crickets. There was a brief pause as all the otaku paused in their activities to look at him, then the chatter resumed.
"Eh? He doesn't look like-"
"-rthur was a blond, so why-"
"-hy does he get to be the-"
Doing his best to block out the mutterings about him Shirou focused upon the goddess that had sworn herself to him as his knight and asked the question that was burning in him.
"Uh, what the hell is going on?"
"Well, these young men informed me of the tale of the Reborn Camelot, and showed me the new depictions of Sir Lancelot!" She explained, grandly gesturing to a large wall scroll that had been hung on the other side of the room. The character upon it bore a rather stunning resemblance to her, especially with her bluish hair. "This knight felt it only right and proper that one should do such a depiction justice!"
"The sites are going nuts over her!" a young man declared as he came up beside Shirou and thrust a tablet into his hands. "Check it out, we only put up these pics a few minutes ago, but they've already got more hits than stuff that's been up there for weeks!"
The tablet displayed some website that had quite the spread of pictures of Lancelot posing in her make-believe armour. There was a counter next to the picture, one that indicated how many times it had been viewed as well as a comments section.
The counter was going up at an almost alarming rate, and currently there seemed to be more than five hundred comments, all of them to the effect of 'awesome!'
Well, that was hardly a surprise. Lancelot might be doing something as simple as a little cosplay, but in the end she was a goddess. Though she was suppressing her divinity it still didn't hide the simple fact that her beauty and charisma were beyond what should be possible for a human. Held back as it was it was a subtle thing, so the mortals about her weren't simply falling to their knees and worshipping her, but it would seem that either it wasn't subtle enough, or these otaku had less resistance than most.
This . . . brilliance, this charisma, it was visible even in the pictures that had been loaded onto the internet. Even if she was just wearing plastic armour and wielding pretend weapons his knight still managed to convey the impression of a magnificent warrior, the kind that would have led armies or been champions to kings. The fact that she also looked incredibly hot probably had something to do with it as well.
"Lancelot-san, who is this?"
The question was asked by one of the young men, but this one was clearly a bit older than the others. Shirou noted, most likely with a part of his mind inherited from Archer, that for someone spending time in an anime and manga store his clothes were pretty high end. Those were tailored, he'd be willing to lay money on it, and they were fairly casual as well, so this was someone that could afford to splash out on his every day stuff. It wasn't suspicious, but it didn't fit.
On the other hand, who was he to judge? He had a personal fortune that was rapidly approaching the ridiculous, but he was here as well.
"Ah, this is my most gracious host!" The goddess declared. "One and the most precious child are residing at his domicile after this knight swore her sword and lance to his service!"
"What?"
"She and her sister are staying at my place." Shirou explained, thinking as fast as he could.
And . . . maybe that hadn't been the smartest idea he'd ever had. Shirou was a warrior, not simply because of the experiences he'd gained from his other selves, but also from the battles he'd fought through himself. He'd faced gods, Berserker, all the worlds' evils, Kotomine Kirei, even his fellow Campione, he'd endured bloodlust and killing intent that would make hardened soldiers curl up in a corner and start sobbing for their mothers. That said there was something distinctly disconcerting about the sheer venom that was being directed at him by every otaku in the shop as soon as they learnt that he and Lancelot were apparently cohabiting.
It wasn't exactly intimidating, he was completely aware that unless they caught him while he was comatose, or preferably severely wounded and on the verge of death, that these people were no threat to him. That being said the weird mixture of resentment, burning envy and hateful outrage did have an oddly potent effect, rather like a horde of puppies giving someone the evil eye. There was something wrong about it, but the target knew there was little to be concerned with
"You and your . . . sister? You're living with him?"
Shirou didn't catch just who asked the question, but he had a sudden premonition of what was to come.
"Indeed!" Lancelot agreed. "One's precious charge has fallen-"
And there it was. The eighth Campione didn't really stop to think; he just reached out and grabbed the goddess's wrist. He had no idea what she was going to say, but he had a moment of absolute certainty that it would in no way be good for him. Most likely she was going to say something about Guinevere being his handmaiden, and this lot would somehow interpret it to be him trafficking in child slavery, or equally ridiculous.
"Yeah, you know that's great, but you do know we have to get back soon, right?"
His words were just a tad rushed as he tried to think of a decent reason to get his guest out of here before things escalated any further. Sadly nothing sprang to mind.
"Well, one supposes that her host is correct. This knight has had a good time, but one is still looking forward to enjoying a fresh slaughter upon the lands of the Blood Clans!"
"What?! But we're doing so well!"
"Yeah! Can't you stay for a few more shoots?!"
"What about-"
With all the dignity of a queen ignoring the plebeian whinings of the commoners Lancelot strode past them and made her way to the shop counter where the owner had sat down after finishing with Shirou. It was odd really. The way she moved should have been imperious or arrogant, uncaring and superior . . . actually, now that he thought about it, it was, but in a different way. Lancelot wasn't treating them as inferiors, as though they were beneath her and she was lording it over them. Instead she was just flat out not acknowledging them, as though they were simply ants hidden in the grass as she walked by. It was a similar result, but her manner lacked any cruelty to it, she simply didn't acknowledge their existence.
Honestly, Shirou would have expected it to grate upon the otaku that were trying to get her attention, that they would feel hurt or slighted. However rather than being downtrodden the young men instead just gazed upon her with even more admiration and reverence.
"Have all this knight's purchases been made already?"
Lancelot's question was directed at the shop owner, who simply nodded and handed her back her credit card.
"Yes, all your purchases have already gone through, though I knocked some off the total." His face creased in a smile as he looked over to where the improvised photo shoot had been going on. "I think that you might have been able to drum up a bit of business for me later, so I think we can call it even."
"Splendid!" the knight's boisterous reply matched her grin. "Then one shall be on her way!"
Turning back to the small crowd she raised her lance before her in salute. Immediately several phones and cameras were raised and the flashes started to go off. This time Shirou was more prepared, and the bursts of light failed to catch him unawares as they had before.
"Farewell, one had has had a fine time, but the sweet fields of battle await upon the games console back at one's domicile."
Bringing her lance down she turned and began to make her way out of the shop, a large bag of various manga, DVDs, figurines, posters and games dangling from her free hand. Shirou moved to follow her, but was stopped as a hand landed lightly on his shoulder. Turning he saw that it was the same guy that had caught his attention before, the one in the oddly expensive clothes.
"Here, would you be so kind as to pass this on to your friend?"
Even as he asked he was pressing something into the young Emiya's hand.
"Errr, sure, I'll give it to her as soon as we have a spare minute."
Shirou replied largely in instinct rather than thought. In truth he was going to have a good look at whatever this was before he gave it to his guest, there were much fewer chances for general chaos that way.
"Please do. It's quite clear that she has a real talent, it would be a shame for it to go to waste."
The young red head nodded his head, then followed Lancelot as she left the store. Idly he noted that not only was she showing no shame in being clad in fake fantasy armour, but she had also left the clothes she'd been wearing behind. Well, it wasn't like there was anything special there; those garments had been something that she'd randomly selected from the closet he'd provided her with. Sure, she'd made them look good, but she could have worn a skirt made of bin bags and a shirt stitched from old cooking cloths and could have made it look awesome.
Truly, the charisma of a goddess was to be feared.
Anyway, there was no loss there, so he just followed her out and back to the car that was still waiting for them. Lancelot didn't seem to see any reason to talk, instead she just picked out one of the manga she had purchased and started to leaf through it. Shirou noted that the cover had a colourful depiction of a character that wore the same armour that she currently did locked in combat with some sort of tentacled dragon.
Well, that was okay, it would give him a chance to look at whatever that guy had given to him. It was a small rectangle of white card, a business card. On one side was a logo with a stylized star framing the name 'Ayamine', which was written in elaborate and curling characters. Blinking Shirou turned the card over and read what was on the back.
'Ayamine Inc.'
'Talent Recruitment and Marketing.'
There was some contact information underneath that, and then a hastily written message in slightly smudged ink. It read; 'Ask for Kamijyo when you ring'.
It took the eighth Campione almost a full minute to realize exactly what the small piece of card meant, and even then he had some trouble believing it. Scouted, Lancelot, the Knight of the Lake, had been scouted to . . . what? Become an idol? He had to hand it to that fellow, Kamijyo, he guessed; he had an eye for talent. His guest was, from a certain point of view, both the worst and best idol material that could be imagined. On the one hand she was limited in her skill set, he knew that Lancelot couldn't sing or dance or act, not in the way that most idols in the entertainment industry would. She probably knew some campfire songs, and could dance the wild formless dances that warriors enjoyed in the wake of victory. But the cute stylized dances of modern pop culture? No, those would be as foreign to her as the concept of snow would be to a desert nomad.
On the other hand, she had beauty, charisma and energy that no mortal could match. If a niche could be found for her, one that fitted her character and skills, then she would probably become something that the modern media world had only seen on the rarest of occasions. Idols, rock stars, celebrities, they were the focus of the modern adulation and worship that had once been the sole property of the gods. To be sure, the 'flavour' the 'composition' of the worship had changed, it lacked the element of submission it had once possessed, the understanding that the one they adored was also one they obeyed. Even so it was still the same energy, the same force, no matter how it had altered. Such would be naturally drawn to Lancelot, and she would take to it like a fish to water.
Of course, that was what had him worried. It was rare, but some stars and idols could gain enough popularity that they could kick off riots or frenzies if they said or did the wrong things. Sure, people like that were rare as gold dust in a coal mine, but they did show up every now and then. Fortunately very few of them ever did cause any problems, being more concerned with their careers than in kicking off general chaos and destruction, but someone like Lancelot, that was a whole different matter.
A divine being like her, even if she was suppressing that divinity, would easily eclipse anything any mortal could have done. He could see it so easily, cults of personality springing up around her, only to turn into real cults in very short order. Hell, he could see entire stadiums of people falling to their knees and worshipping her if she ever took part in any sort of concert.
Closing his eyes he rubbed at his forehead and tried to dispel the minor ache that was forming behind his brow. Maybe he was being a bit alarmist? After all, Lancelot wasn't malicious, nor was she a deity that thrived on chaos and disorder. Really, what was the worst she could do?
As soon as he mentally asked that question he could see it clearly, modern day knight sweeping into the city in search of wrongs to right, villains to punish, and glory to claim. Oh, they would be gallant, and chivalrous, and noble, and they'd also be no end of trouble as they bulldozed their way through anything and everything that got in their way. There would be no malice or evil in it, just the unwavering desire to do good regardless of common sense or simple rationality.
Great, one more thing to worry about.
-()-
Illya carefully reached out with the small sharpened rod and gently poked at one of the hair thin wires that ran across the surface before her. The point made contact, and a spark of raw prana briefly illuminated the workshop before fading away once more.
She didn't grimace; she was doing her best to keep her frustration under control. Instead she put down the rod and picked up an identical tool, only this one was made from platinum.
Honestly, she didn't want to be doing this right now. If she had a choice she would have been spending the afternoon working on her manga. Still, she needed to get this right. Recent events had only shown that in terms of direct combat power she was not in a position to stand by Shirou. To be sure her puppet Berserker was a force to be reckoned with, but past events had shown that as things stood he just wasn't enough,
No, if she wanted to be able to help her adopted brother more she needed to come at it from a different direction.
The Heaven's Feel.
The idea had come to her after she'd been reviewing one of the reports that had been filed to the Black Forest Association in Germany. Illya had asked Kaida to see if the History Compilation Committee could gain access to such reports, and after a few days the Dragon's Roar user had brought her a number of envelopes containing reports from various magical organizations in Europe. The Einzbern heiress had wanted them so she could get an idea of how her adopted sibling was seen in distant countries. It had been a personal interest more than anything else. Had she been back in her home reality then she might have been worried about associations working together to try to kill or capture Shirou, but in this new world the dynamics were far different.
Here it was simply accepted as fact that you couldn't go against a Campione. Water was wet, the sky was blue, things fell down, and God Slayers were absolute. It wasn't a philosophy that she herself particularly liked, since she doubted she would have meekly submitted to a Campione regardless of the difference in their power, but it did work to her advantage. So, she had been reading the reports in an effort to get a feel of how her adopted brother was viewed abroad.
It had actually been an interesting and amusing read. Interesting in that she now had a good idea of how much in awe some of the more distant magical communities were of him, what was amusing was all the ways that they were wrong about him. She supposed, seen from the outside, that she could understand some of the conclusions they'd come to about him. His gathering wealth, building up the small business empire he now possessed, getting goddesses to swear their loyalty to him, all of it could be seen as a steady build up of power and resources. For her, someone that knew that Shirou had more or less bumbled into it all simply because he was being himself, the sight of them speculating about his master plan and their feverish debates about which brilliant move he'd make next was hilarious.
Still, their wild conjectures had drawn her attention to something, namely her brother's Reality Marble.
Unlimited Blade Works had sent shockwaves through the world that were still not yet fully settled down. The revelation that there was a mortal magic that could stand against the power of Authorities and emerge triumphant had been received with awe, disbelief and greed. The simple fact was that it should have been impossible, the strongest spells of magic, the ones that could actually harm a god, were always ones that invoked the power of a god to aid them. A mortal could not stand against a god; it was that simple, only by borrowing the power of another god could any sort of impact be made upon them.
But that was not the case with the magic of the King of Steel. Instead it had been proven that he could use a mortal magic that could slay gods, overcome Authorities and defeat his fellow Devil Kings. This had been acknowledged by Luo Hao herself, the Ruler of the Martial Realm, and largely regarded as the most prideful of all the God Slayers. Any other scepticism had been removed by the 'fight' that had taken place between the King of Steel and the Black Prince. Though none had been there several scrying spells had been used to observe what had happened. Almost all of them had been knocked out by the clash, but those that had survived had been able to confirm that it had not been an Authority that had broken the Thunder of the Fourth Campione.
Since then many sects, cults and associations around the world had thrown themselves into trying to create their own god defying magic. It was also well known that Luo Cuilian had gone into retreat so that she could devote herself to duplicating the spell that had defeated her. It was almost funny in a way, all around the world people were trying to recreate Unlimited Blade Works, and they had no idea what they were doing.
Illya had a fairly good grasp on how the magic of this new world worked. To be sure, she was no virtuoso, but she understood the basic principles behind it, the unifying theories that all schools used. It was due to this that she knew that it was to all intents and purposes impossible for anyone to create their own Reality Marbles, and that wasn't taking into account the sheer difficulty of the magic itself. As far as she could tell almost the totality of the magic schools were outwardly focused. Practioners invoked powers, made deals with spirits, tapped into remnant energies; all of it was externally based. Oh, there were spells and rituals that relied upon one's own power or internal stores of magic, but even these were reinforced by an outside force, even if it was something like an ancestor or saint.
Reality Marbles, by contrast, were spell craft that was almost entirely inwardly derived. After all, its basic premise was the overlaying of the internal world over the external one. For these people, who seemed to so rarely look inwards, it was nigh impossible for them to ever be able to emulate what her adopted sibling could do.
Still, reading over the reports of their efforts and their ambitions had gotten Illya to thinking. She'd tried to match up with Shirou, but the sad fact was that she simply couldn't keep up, not in the way things were going. He was a Campione, but even without the power and advantages that granted him, even if he'd just had to rely upon his magecraft he'd still be stronger than her, at least as combat went. Illya was a powerhouse of a magus, and she could do things that would leave any normal magi green with envy, but when it came to battle Shirou had the advantage of specialization and flexibility. Unlimited Blade Works was, at its core, as repository of weapons, one that even the Gate of Babylon would feel rivalled by, and as such not something she could match with magecraft, no matter her skill or power.
Had he been a 'normal' magus, or at least as normal as one with a fully functioning Reality Marble could be, then her puppet Berserker would have been an equalizer, at least to some degree. But as a Campione both he and the opponents he faced all trumped anything she could bring to bear. She could be sneaky with her magecraft, innovative, or just plain vicious, but it wouldn't overcome the gap in power. With a combination of magic resistance, overwhelming power, and natural dominance, gods and God Slayers simply stood above where conventional magecraft could reach.
So that left her with the most unconventional magecraft of all, the True Magics.
Or, more specifically, the Third True Magic, the one that her family had been desperately trying to reclaim for over a millennium; the Heaven's Feel.
Now, under normal circumstances her desire to attain the Third Magic would have been little more than a pipe dream. To be sure, with the Dress of Heaven she had some limited ability to use the Heaven's Feel, but that was barely a shadow of what the True Magic would have been able to do. At the absolute best she might be capable of achieving Soul Transference. Actually, that had been one of the fates that she'd intended to inflict on Shirou, at least it had been before she'd actually met him.
Back then she'd hated him so much; to her he'd been the one that had stolen her father from her, the one that had replaced her in his heart. She'd been planning to place his soul into a doll, something that she could play with as much as she wanted, something that could never escape her. Then, after she had grown to know him, after she had grown to love him, her plans had changed. When she'd run into the cave that held the Greater Grail, clad in the Dress of Heaven and fully intent on giving up her life to stop the Grail, she had planned to use the incomplete magic she had to transfer Shirou's soul out of his dying body and into another. It hadn't been an ideal solution, and the container would have been a 'cheap' one formed from the remnants of her own body, but it would have kept him alive. She'd had faith that Rin would have been able to work something out, for all that Illya hadn't gotten on well with the Tohsaka heiress she wouldn't deny her intelligence.
In the end though, she'd had no chance to help Shirou. Instead she had been delayed, the Grail had misfired, and her, her brother and Angra Mainyu had all been sent into a completely new world.
Well, there was nothing to be done about it, but it did open up a considerable number or options that Illya could take advantage of.
True Magic, or Sorcery as it was otherwise known, was nigh impossible to learn. Under normal circumstances it was widely accepted that the only way to acquire a True Magic was to access the Root of All and gain its knowledge. The snow haired girl didn't have that option, at least not under the current circumstances. Had she been back in their home dimension she might have tried to study the Grail so as to recreate parts of its functions. It would most likely have been the work of years, but if she could master certain functions then she could have recreated and power them using the prana stored in the Gem Sword. After all, by the time it was ready Shirou would most likely have stored enough raw energy there to power two entire Holy Grail Wars.
Still, even without that option she had other resources available, ones that she thought might let her make up the difference. Firstly she was currently living in a world were the 'rules' of the world were far less stringent than her home reality. The higher mana content of the atmosphere, the looser rules, the less severe repercussions to failure, all of it was conducive to experimentation.
Secondly was the additional data she'd been able to gather by watching Shirou. His Authority, Rule of the Underworld, was horribly frustrating to categorize, but it was also fascinating to observe. The ability to contact the souls of the dead and then incarnate them into prana based construct bodies was one of the best known applications of the Heaven's Feel, so she was sure that there had to be some sort of connection. Or, if not, then at least some sort of similarity in function. That in itself wasn't enough, but aside from the Holy Grail War it was probably the closest that anyone had seen of the Third Magic in centuries.
Thirdly was the abundance of resources that were available to her. When she'd worked upon her puppet Berserker she'd had loads of reagents and materials to use thanks to Shirou being able to provide her with pretty much any precious material she needed, and she'd taken full advantage of it. Now though, things were different. The gifts and tributes that Shirou had been receiving for the last few months had included all sorts of rare reagents with all manner of properties. Things like phoenix feathers, dragon scales, or mermaid hair. Back in her world things like this were insanely hard to get hold of, given that the vast majority of the phantasmal races had departed for the 'other side' ages past. Here though, Heretic Gods brought them to the mortal realm with their Authorities, and sometimes they left things in their wake, things that could be used. They weren't as refined and powerful as true Dragon Bone type artefacts, but they were still powerful and useful.
Lastly was the object of her current work, namely the Dress of Heaven itself.
The Dress was the only personal item that she'd brought with her from their own reality, but she'd done her best to take care of it. The fact was that the Dress of Heaven hadn't been meant to last this long, and had it not been for the enormous amounts of time and prana that she'd sunk into it then it probably would have dissipated only a week or two after their arrival.
Another spark leapt off her tools, this one strong enough that even through the protections she was using she felt a jolt run up her arm.
This time Illya couldn't keep a sigh of frustration and tiredness from escaping her lips. Putting down the thin rod of precious metal she sat back in her chair and did her best to relax the tense muscles in her back and shoulders. On the work table before her, the Dress of Heaven shone as pristinely as ever, a beautiful combination of white, gold and red. Reaching out the Einzbern heiress gently ran her fingertips across it, feeling the silken smoothness of the material, as well as the power that it contained.
Had she been a normal human, even a mage, then the simple act of touching the Mystic Code would have been enough to transmute her into gold; such was the nature of the power it channelled. As the child of a homunculus and a human though Illya was able to touch it without fear, just as had been intended when she was selected as the Vessel of the fifth Holy Grail War.
It was more than that though, beyond its power and danger the Dress was precious to her for another reason. Leysritt had given up her life to make it, Leysritt that had been so close to her. The homunculus maid had been a failed creation, one that had been retooled to serve Illya during the Holy Grail war. Her strength had been maximized, to the point where she was physically a match for some of the weaker Servants, and she'd been armed with a weapon that took advantage of that strength. She was to be a bodyguard, one to ensure that the enemy Masters couldn't slay Illya while her Berserker was engaged with their Servants. However, Leysritt's main function was to sacrifice herself to create the Dress of Heaven.
The Dress of Heaven was a powerful and complicated Mystic Code, and not one that could be easily created. However the Einzbern family specialized in alchemy, and of the primary applications of such magecraft was the transmutation of one resource into something else. Leysritt was created as a candidate for position of the Lesser Grail, but was deemed a failure and replaced by Illya instead. But despite being insufficient for her primary purpose, the Einzberns still saw a use for her. By capitalizing on her lingering innate power as a potential Grail it was possible for the ether that formed her to be converted into a potential Mystic Code that could augment Illya. That such a procedure would kill the maid was not really taken into consideration, she was their creation and as such a resource to be used.
For Illya her feelings had been more complicated. On the one hand Leysritt had been her guardian and protector for years, she had been . . . important to her. On the other hand she had been well aware that the homunculus maid's life span was limited, even more so than her own. Whether she was used to create the Dress of Heaven or not, she was going to die. If that was the case then wasn't it better for her death to mean something? Wasn't it better that she helped achieve something of worth rather than just fading away as her life gave out?
Whatever the case, Leysritt had felt it worth it, because during the mess that the fifth War had become she had given up her life to form the Dress. Sella had prepared it for her, one of her last acts before her own death. Illya had worn it into the cavern that held the Greater Grail fully expecting that it would be the last thing she ever wore, certain that it would be the only thing that would let her save Shirou from his impending death.
In many ways it was the Dress itself that made her think that her plan might not be impossible. The Dress of Heaven was a Mystic Code that allowed for a flawed and limited version of the Third Magic, but for all those flaws that magic was the Heaven's Feel. She was sure she could build on that, expand upon it until she could . . . what?
The thing was that she had some vague ideas, but she couldn't really be sure of anything until she'd made more progress. It was a catch 22 in many ways; she couldn't make progress until she knew how she was going to proceed, but she couldn't proceed until she knew which way she wished to make progress. Well, if mastering a True Magic was easy then they wouldn't be anywhere near as revered or desired as they were.
As she tried to relax she idly allowed her thoughts to drift onto just what it would mean if she was able to become a sorceress. Any one of the True Magics were absurdly powerful, almost to the point of being distortions in the world. Just look at Zelretch, at the height of his power he had personally faced the Type Moon in single combat, a being that was aptly described as the Ultimate One of the moon. Against such a being it should have been impossible for any being on Earth to defeat it, yet the Kaleidoscope had managed it, even going so far as to return the moon to its proper place when his foe had sough to crash it into the earth. To be sure the efforts that Zelretch had expended had left him permanently weakened, and the wounds he had sustained had led to him becoming a vampire. Even so it only served to show how powerful a sorcerer could be.
The Heaven's Feel was different from the Kaleidoscope, but it could not be said to be inferior. Just as the Second Magic could provide unlimited prana by harvesting alternate realities so could the Third by using the soul as something akin to a perpetual motion machine. The Kaleidoscope provided access to all the skills across realities. The Heaven's Feel provided access to all the skills of those that had lived and died throughout history.
Still, as formidable as those aspects of the Magic were it was the most basic aspect of it that she thought might allow her to close the gap that existed between her and Shirou in regards to combat power, namely the power of true resurrection.
Theoretically a master of the Heaven's Feel would be able to summon souls without any limit, save what the rules of the world imposed upon them. This meant that if they wanted they could summon up Heroic Spirits as Servants with almost casual ease. Actually, they would probably be superior to the Servants created by the Holy Grail since, for all its power, the Grail was simply using an incomplete version of the True Magic. Heroic Spirits summoned via the complete Heaven's Feel would possess far superior forms, meaning that they wouldn't need to draw prana from a Master; instead they would be able to generate their own like any living being. Of course the Heaven's Feel didn't possess anything like the Command Seals to enforce their loyalty, if a sorcerer wished to compel obedience then their only tool would be the threat of dismissing the new body of the soul they had called up, essentially killing them again. It was a weakness, but one that Illya was sure a little imagination and intelligence would be able to overcome.
In truth Illya wasn't sure if it was possible for her to access the Throne of Heroes from this reality. She knew that Shirou had tried to reach it using his Authority, but had found the 'distance' to it to be too great for his Rule of the Underworld to reach across. Perhaps the power of a True Magic would be able to bridge that gap, but it wasn't something that the Einzbern heiress was willing to gamble all upon. Instead she had another plan, one that carried its own risks, but which also promised to solve all her issues in regard to her limited combat power.
Authorities, or at least the ones that Campione like her adopted brother possessed, were essentially additions to their souls. Whatever process it was that allowed a mortal to transition into a being that was at once divine and mortal simultaneously it also attached the Authorities that they usurped at a spiritual level. That meant that if a substitute body was created via the Heaven's Feel it would do so with the Authorities intact. Theoretically that meant that a Sorceress of the Third Magic could freely summon any Campione she wished and their full power would still be ready and waiting. Granted, there were the issues of control and management, but if those could be overcome then the possibilities boggled the mind.
Campione were rare, normally only three or four appearing each century, barring times when the numbers spiked as they were at the present. Even so, it had been nearly three and a half millennia since Pandora invoked the Grand Ritual that allowed for the birth of a God Slaying King, meaning that in that time at the very least there had been more than a hundred Campione. Actually, now that she thought of it, if one included the 'failure' Kings, the ones that only lasted a year or two or died after only gaining a single Authority, that number probably doubled. After all, all Campione were those that could defy fate and slay a god, this didn't mean that they were particularly intelligent or competent. Certainly none of them were ordinary or mundane, but she knew from her own research that a fair number had drowned in their own power and given themselves over to debauchery and excess. Invariably these tyrant Kings lost their edge, their supporters, their mettle, and fell to the gods that normally came looking for Campione to battle.
That meant there was a large pool to draw upon, potentially an Authority for any conceivable situation. If her idea could be implemented then she'd go from being lower middle tier in the Emiya household to standing at the top.
For a moment she indulged in a silly little fantasy. Herself, older, taller, sexier, lounging upon a massive throne of gold and jewel and clad in a flattering version of the Dress of Heaven, one that fully showed off her developed figure. To her side would be Shirou, dressed in something midway between a consort king and a butler. On the other side would be Berserker, her berserker, not the puppet she had made, in full command of his faculties and ready to protect her from everything. Beneath her, standing on either side of the long red carpet that ran from her throne, would be Tiamat, Guinevere, Lancelot, Sakura, Rin and Rider, all of them dressed in maid uniforms, and all looking up at her with envy in their eyes. Laughing at them she would reach over and pull Shirou into a-
With a shake of her head Illya cut off that particular fantasy. Attractive as it might be there was no way it would ever come true. Tiamat would probably rather die than be a simple serving woman. Guinevere would probably never consent to it, unless Shirou asked her of course, then she probably would be happy to don the uniform. Lancelot . . . well, that was a bit less clear. She might well consent to doing it, at least for a short time, simply because it might amuse her. As for the others . . .
Bah! No matter! Why was she wasting time on it? As things stood it was a purely fanciful notion, given that she was still a long LONG way off from unravelling the mysteries of even the Dress of Heaven. Oh, she could use it, could employ the Mystery that it allowed her to invoke it, but she had no idea of the intricacies behind it. Well, she might have a general idea, but she was like an electrician suddenly forced to repair a high end computer, she might know some of the principles and technology behind it, but there was so much she didn't know that doing anything might cause more harm than good.
Hence her painstakingly careful advance.
Illya knew that she wasn't a genius in the same vein as Rin. The two of them might not get on so well, but even so the snowy haired girl acknowledged that the Tohsaka heiress was brilliant in a way that was only seen as rarely as a blue moon. Even so Illya was smart, talented and had more magical 'muscle' than Rin had access to. She also had Wishcraft, an inefficient but flexible magecraft to bring to bear on her frustrating little project, one that she could use well due to her extra large prana reserves.
Turning to the side she made another addition to the careful notes she'd been keeping, then she selected another rod and carefully reached out to the powerful Mystic Code before her.
There was another spark.
This was going to take some time.
-()-
"Past the jaws of Cerberus, down the twisting path to the kingdoms three, before me lies the domain over which I am monarch. Beneath the earth, beneath the darkness, all within is my possession."
As Shirou spoke those words he felt the familiar power coursing through him, connecting to the reagents that were lined up on the table before him. There was a slight drain of prana, another sensation he was familiar with, and he felt the last connection form as the figures began to materialize before him.
There were six of them, so that meant that of the ten reagents he'd tried to use four had been unsuitable. Well, that wasn't completely unexpected, the quilled pen and the seal stamp had been slightly long shots, but he'd been willing to give them a go. He was surprised that the lock of hair hadn't worked though, normally parts of the subject almost always served as decent reagents, sadly it looked like this wasn't one of those times. That just left the small note book, which had also been a bit of a gamble. With all the work and notes that had been written in it he'd felt sure it had a good chance of working, but he guessed that it somehow hadn't managed to form the kind of close connection that he needed. Oh well, he wasn't quite sure how to determined which reagents would work best at a glance, but he was becoming fairly clear of what was needed.
An emotional component was normally the best, but a physical component also worked just was well. Bones tended to be the most reliable, though he'd learnt that samples of blood or locks of hair generally yielded good results. Of course, it wasn't always needed; being able to summon Yusuke by using a fragment of his grave stone was an example of such.
"King."
"Our king."
"King of the dead."
"The king that calls."
"The great king."
Ah yes, he couldn't get distracted now. The figures that had formed on the other side of his desk weren't the perfectly human resurrections that he'd used on Yusuke and Asuka, instead they were the skeletal undead that he normally used in battle when he called warriors to fight at his side. However these were not warriors. They were clad in robes; some of them had staffs, while others held amulets or tomes. They seemed to come from a number of different cultures, the cut and design of the clothes they wore ranging from European, to Arabic, to ancient Chinese. The only thing that they all had in common was that they were quite clearly magic users one and all.
This had been something that Shirou had been planning to get sorted out for some time, but had never quite managed to find the time to get done. However his recent acquisitions from the Royal Arsenal had been sufficient to accelerate his plans. The History Compilation Committee had been able to provide him with a number of reagents that had allowed him to summon up several magic users; however they had not been what he considered to be combat assets. The mages he'd had access to had specialized in divination, clairvoyance, purification, things like that. They were of potential use, of that there was no doubt, but for what he wanted they were of highly limited utility.
At first he had wondered if the class of the mages being sent to him was a deliberate choice on the part of the Committee. In the end he had dismissed the idea. With his Authorities them not supplying him with combat capable magic users would in no way lessen his own destructive potential, indeed in some ways it might increase it. If he needed servitors capable of battle magic and didn't have any souls he could call up then he would instead have to fall back upon the demon creatures he had created with Curses without End. When you took that into account then him having an option that was considerably less devastating and vicious was the far more sensible option.
In the end he'd done a little digging and found out that it was a sort of unofficial tradition in the Committee that their more militant agents received cremation after death. He supposed he could have asked for some of their ashes in the case of those where the remains hadn't been scattered, but he'd decided against that particular route. Shirou had been putting together some other plans, seeing if he could get in touch with some organizations he'd learnt about that operated in Russia and Western Europe. It was an association that skirted on the edges of criminality, but it had possessed a reputation for reliability and neutrality. He'd thought to see if he could get potential reagents through them.
Then the whole mess with Venus had taken place, and then he'd spent the next few weeks obsessing on personal matters and burying himself in his research, and his plan for a squad of spellcaster supporters had fallen to the bottom of his list of priorities. After the mess with Gascoigne though . . .
He once again looked at the six figures as they finished solidifying. In appearance they were rather intimidating, skeletons in robes were an image that was prevalent in most societies around the world, and often associated with death in one form or another. These six seemed to match that image quite well, something that could be of use in the future, he supposed.
Four of them were male, and two of them were female, or at least he guessed that to be the case. Two of the skeletons wore robes of a more feminine cut, and had some more jewellery, but he supposed that didn't automatically mean they were women. Well, it wasn't really worth devoting much thought to, it would only be relevant if he ever granted them a full incarnation. Until he did so he'd best keep his mind on the matter at hand. With as much gravitas as he could manage he stood up from behind his desk and faced the souls he had given form.
"You've all answered my call, so you know that I have need of you. I shall not demand your service; I shall not force it or compel it. I am a king that does not seek tyranny, so if any of you do not wish to enter my service you need but speak out at any time, and from then on I shall no longer call upon you. I seek willing servants, not slaves."
Shirou paused and looked the six over. Having them in the form of skeletons might be easier on his reserves of magic, but it did mean that they were much harder to get a read on. No flesh meant no expressions, no eyes, no muscles. Still, some body language remained in the way they held themselves, even if it was only in their bones. None of them seemed to have straightened or relaxed, as much as they were able, at his words, so it seemed that there had been little worry in them. Well, that was probably a good sign, it meant that they were likely here willingly, rather than simply forced.
"I seek to have skilled spell users at my side in battle," he continued, "I cannot promise that they shall be easy battles, for on most occasions my foes are either gods gone rogue or my fellow Kings. However my own skills in the mystic arts are limited to my specialities, and I would be glad to have those with more diverse power upon my side. Also I wish for your aid in dealing with smaller foes that may arise, foes I wish subdued but not crushed beneath the might of my Authorities."
That was another part of why he wanted to assemble this group of souls he could summon. In all honesty he didn't really have and great need for them. In a battle with other Authority users they wouldn't be much more than cannon fodder, a distraction at best. Against lesser foes, like ambitious but foolish mages or the like, his options were almost uncountable. Many of his Authorities could be leveraged to defeat them without inflicting fatalities, and even if that weren't the case he had literally hundreds of other options waiting in his Reality Marble to be used at a moments notice. However, the more visible and understandable threat of mages under his command would be more intimidating without being overwhelming, especially if said mages were clearly undead.
"I would be honoured to serve you, oh great king!"
"I too, it would be my honour to answer your call!"
"For glory! For the King!"
"My service is at your disposal, great king."
"Call and I shall answer!"
There words were not quite a sound, more of an impression that somehow reached him and made itself understandable on a level that surpassed simple language. Shirou allowed himself a small smile as he nodded his head in acknowledgement of their declarations.
"Very well, I would be pleased to accept your service." He paused for a moment. "Rest assured that your services will not go unrewarded. In return for your loyalty you will receive days when I use my Authority to grant you time as a human once more, one with flesh and blood forged of my power. You shall be able to walk in the sun once more, taste the flavour of food and drink of both water and wine as you wish. This is my reward to those that serve me well."
This time they didn't speak, instead every last one of them went down to one knee before him, their heads bowed in respect and deference.
"Good," he said as he sat back down and gestured for them to stand. "Now, tell me about yourselves, and what you can do on the battlefield and off it."
-()-
Manaka followed Kaida-sama as she walked through the manor grounds.
This in itself wasn't too strange, the grounds of their King's mansion were very large, especially for a manor that was built inside the city limits of Tokyo. Even after living here for nearly quarter of a year the Witch Fighter was still slightly awed at the sheer size and richness of the place and its gardens. If the place was demolished and used for building she was pretty sure that a good sized shopping complex could have been built there, that or a couple of spacious apartment buildings. That meant that the land alone must have been pretty valuable, even if you didn't take the luxury of the mansion itself into account.
She recalled how one day, after her curiosity had gotten the better of her, she had asked Yusuke just how much Shirou-sama had spent to acquire the place.
So he'd told her.
Manaka considered herself a fairly worldly young woman, despite her relative youth. She had pulled herself from her status as a foundling orphan to being one of the most potent combatants that the Kuhoutsuka family was able to field. Through her own skill, determination and stubbornness she'd risen through the ranks until she'd been trusted to be Kaida-sama's bodyguard and a direct servant to the King of Steel himself. On her way there she'd seen a lot of things, some of them quite ugly, enough so to give her the occasional night terror. She wasn't some naïve and sheltered flower that knew little of the true value of money and property.
Even so, once she learnt of the sum that her King had paid in order to gain ownership of the manor she hadn't been able to keep her jaw from dropping open. This was only exacerbated when Yusuke had confided in her that he was quite proud to have purchased the manor at that price since, in his opinion, it should have been even higher. That he'd been able to bargain it down had been a triumph to his mind.
It was things like that which served to remind Manaka that the young man she served wasn't simply a mighty warrior; he was also the All Wealthy King, an individual swiftly becoming one of the richest people on the planet.
Well, that wasn't really important at the moment, what was important was keeping an eye on the Hime-Miko that she was sworn to protect.
And these days that was an entirely more pleasant experience.
A smile touched the witch warrior's lips as she looked up at the figure she was following. Kaida had never been one to let her circumstances put her down, and had maintained a positive outlook despite every tragedy that had hit her. She had tackled problems with enthusiasm and always gone around with that earnest smile on her face that was so unknowingly charming. Still, once you knew her well enough you could spot it, that tiny hint of depression and sadness. It was small, almost unnoticeable, but it could colour her every action in a way that ate at Manaka.
Kaida-sama was special. She was more than a powerful Hime-Miko, she was more than the destiny the witch fighter had seen in her Aura Sign, she was more than the talented and gifted person Manaka knew her to be. She was Manaka's friend, one of the tiny number that had gotten past her mask of abrasiveness and ego to reach the surprisingly timid girl within. To Manaka Kaida-sama was everything, and it hurt her to see that small knot of pain in her that the bodyguard could do nothing about.
Now that was gone. Her steps seemed to have a bit more bounce to them, her every movement seemed to have a bit more energy to it, her every expression was a tiny bit brighter.
"Oh, here's another one. Manaka, could you pass me the crystal?"
Really it was a bit on the uncanny side. Here they were, using the crystals that Illya-chan had prepared to recharge the various death traps that littered the manor grounds, and the possessor of the Dragon's Roar was positively radiating good cheer and happiness. Absently Manaka handed the crystal over as she watched her principle at work. Really, someone recharging a trap that was meant to coat the victim in potent acid should not be happily humming the theme song of some Disney princess.
. . . Well, at least not someone who wasn't in imminent danger of breaking down into deranged laughter and starting to cackle about 'proving them wrong' and 'showing them all'. Shaking her head to get rid of the image of Kaida in a slightly scorched lab coat and with her hair all wild and frizzy the witch fighter decided to voice her curiosity.
"You're in a good mood today. Did something good happen?"
The smile that the Hime-Miko turned on her was so bright that for a moment Manaka felt dazzled.
"It's wonderful!" Kaida-sama practically sang. "Yesterday I went to see my mother again. She's much better now, able to stay awake for hours at a time. She's also begun basic exercises, though she still can't get out of bed yet. Anyway, we were talking and she told me that she'd received a letter from my father! He'd heard about what Shirou-sama did, how Mama had been healed, and he's coming back to Japan!"
The black haired possessor of the Dragon's Roar turned to face her friend and bodyguard and seemed to almost vibrate in place with pent up energy.
"I think . . . I think that this might be it! Papa went away because of what happened to mama, but now that it's fixed, now that she's getting better, this means that things can get better. That we can be a family again!"
Manaka looked at her dear friend and truly hoped that she was right. Unfortunately a cold and cynical part of her, the part that had been educated by all the trials and tribulations that life had been able to throw at her, thought it unlikely. Kaida-sama's father had left because he couldn't stand to look at his daughter after she inadvertently put her mother into a state of living death. The witchcraft trained bodyguard knew the story, had heard it from her charge and had confirmed it with her own research. Kaida-sama's father had been a good man, a good husband and a good father. However he had adored his wife, in many ways she had been the centre of his world, and when she had fallen into her deathlike state it had nearly destroyed him. Afterwards, when it was learnt that his daughter had been the cause, he just hadn't been able to handle it. He had loved his daughter, but she had been the one to unintentionally steal the love of his life, something that had bred a towering resentment in him.
The dichotomy of emotions had simply been too much for him, and he'd done what people had been doing since the dawn of time when confronted with adversity.
He'd run away.
After that it had been years with only the most minimal of contact between father and daughter. For her part Kaida-sama had been astonishingly understanding of her father's feelings, but even so it had been clear that the whole mess had left its mark on her. As much as she wished it was not the case Manaka was certain that the family that had been broken would not be able to so simply become whole once more.
Or maybe she was wrong? The world had many wonders and miracles in it, maybe it would surprise her again and things would turn out for the best. She'd prefer that, to see her friend happy rather than her being right.
"Isn't this one of the ones that gave the Black Prince some trouble?"
Manaka looked up to see Kaida-sama pointing at the ground. Yes, though it had been skilfully filled in she could still see the spot where a rather ragged crater had once marred the garden. It had been quite a large crater, if she remembered it correctly, one that had been the result of a particularly vicious trap. Some sort of spatial distortion, if she was remembering right. She'd seen recordings of Alexander Gascoigne's break in, and quite honestly it had been more than a bit frightening.
She was well aware of how powerful Shirou-sama was, she'd been there when he'd remade the world using only his mortal magic rather than a divine Authority after all. She'd also borne witness to the titanic powers of Luo Hao and Kusanagi Godou, both powerful Campione in their own rights. However there had been something oddly . . . personal about seeing the lightning form of the Black Prince tearing his way through the manor's defences with such ease.
The witchcraft trained bodyguard was intimately familiar with many of the magical traps and obstacles that littered the grounds; she'd helped Illya-chan install a few of the later ones and had received very detailed instruction on where and why the others had been placed. It had been as a sort of back up; so that she could co-ordinate them if neither Shirou-sama nor Illya-chan were here.
As it turned out the one night when that was the case and the manor was broken into they hadn't been there either, so everything had been running on automatic. True, the defences had been incomplete since the King of Steel hadn't been there to deploy his undead army or to unleash the demons that slept beneath his home. Still the multitude of magical booby traps that had been set up would have been enough to stop a moderately sized army. They would certainly have been enough to stop Manaka, of that she was certain. She knew that she was skilled and resourceful, but if she had tried to break into the mansion grounds without having prior information she was pretty sure that she wouldn't have made it past the fifth trap. She'd have either been captured by the less lethal ones, or been reduced to cinders or ooze by one of the nastier ones.
The Black Prince though, he had managed to rip his way through them like a chainsaw through sheets of newspaper.
Acid spays, claws of stone, zones that for a brief instant were as hot as the surface of the sun, none of them had done any good. The more esoteric ones, those that attacked the mind rather than the body, had been of even less use, the magic resistance of a Devil King more than enough to ignore them. There had been the weird ones, the ones that Illya had made using a combination of her own strange magic along with the magecraft that she'd been learning from Manaka and Kaida-sama. Those had been bizarre to say the least, areas where physical laws seemed to break down briefly, where time would run out of control, where matter refused to stay in one state, where distance and direction were suddenly no longer operating on a rational basis.
It had actually been rather impressive, but it had been mitigated by the fact that neither she nor Illya-chan had had any idea of how to control the things. As it was all they could do was limit the effects to a specific area and make sure that they didn't cause any widespread effects, but that was about the limit to what could be done. The snowy haired mage had seemed interested by them though, enough that she'd commented that she'd have to research them more thoroughly when she had some spare time.
This particular trap had done something to warp space in a way that made the brain hurt to look at. Manaka had only seen a recording of it, and the three or four seconds that it had held the lightning form of the Black Prince had almost made her want to grab the nearby paper bin and empty her lunch into it. Kaida-sama, who had watched it with her, had handled it better, but even she had been looking a bit green. There was simply no way to describe it, as soon as the lightning form had entered the traps it had shifted from horizontal into a sort of loop, but the loop was constantly moving in a single direction even as it fed back on itself, all while simultaneously inverting, turning, imploding infinitely towards an . . .
Ouch, just thinking about it was enough to give her a headache. Still, it was had been something to see, reality bent and warped in a way that defied rational explanation.
And it had held the fourth Campione for all of four seconds.
It only served to drive home just how ridiculous an existence the Devil Kings were. Even something like that was unable to contain the sheer power of his Authority combined with his magic resistance. Still, it had held him for a short time, and when Alexander Gascoigne had broken free he'd come out of the trap at an angle, crashing into the ground and briefly reverted to human form. It had only been a brief thing; he'd been back on his feet and back into his Black Lightning form in a heart beat or two, but it was significant in that it had managed to do anything.
Of course, it had also exploded quite nicely after the Black Prince broke out, so clearly it needed further work.
"Yes, the only one that did." She replied, keeping quiet about her thoughts and simply answering her charge's question.
"It's amazing to think that he broke through all of them so easily." Kaida-sama commented as she skirted the filled in hole. The earth and gravel there were still fresh, unsettled, so it made sense to stay off it. There was also no point in trying to recharge it, there was nothing to recharge since it had broken when it exploded. "His power was not to be underestimated."
"Agreed. Not that it did him much good when he faced our king, though."
Manaka felt a little bit of vindictive pleasure as she said that. Though she had only been staying here for a few months the manor had started to feel like a home, rather than just somewhere she was simply staying. His breaking in here had been . . . vexing, an irritation that had nagged at her. The knowledge that the King of Steel had met him in battle and summarily crushed him had been a balm to her soul.
"Oh, there's another one. Can you pass me another crystal?"
Well, things could be a lot worse. As it stood, things seemed to be improving, for Kaida-sama, for Shirou-sama, for Illya-chan, even for Manaka herself. For now that would do.
-()-
"Sir Shirou," as always Guinevere's voice was bright and respectful as she curtsied before him, "Guinevere is ready to aid in the empowerment of the Jewel Sword."
The eighth Campione nodded his thanks as he carefully unwrapped the second iteration of his first successful Mystic Code. Well, to a given value of 'success' anyway. Taking a seat on the wooden floor of his workshop he fitted the tip of the sword into a cleft in a large block of wood so that the gemstone weapon would remain standing before him. As he did so his handmaiden elegantly sat on the other side of the sword across from him, her movements concealed by the folds of her elaborate dress.
"As with before then?" He asked as he held up one hand to lightly rest on the cross guard of the Mystic Code.
"Certainly, Guinevere will perform her own duties while Sir Shirou provides the magical energy.
Upon her confirmation Shirou began to feed prana into the sword, not the most he could, but a good sized trickle. As before some of it soaked into the Jewel Sword, but an unpleasantly large amount of it failed to be taken in and began to fade into the atmosphere. This energy was caught by Guinevere's expert touch, and the prana circulated back to the sword where some of it was absorbed, and the rest cycled back to try again. It was a simple system, but not one that the Emiya heir could have performed on his own. The Divine Ancestor's skill simply surpassed anything he was capable of.
That thought, of his own limitations as a magus, brought his mind back to the souls that had sworn their allegiance to him earlier that day. They were an interesting group, from a number of cultures and times, but they brought a number of useful talents with them. Fire, ice, water, mist, sand, soil, metal, curses he'd never heard of, blessings he found intriguing, spells to blind the eyes of foes, enchantments to enhanced weapons, so many options, so many new avenues.
Too bad they were weaker than he wanted.
In hindsight Shirou had realized that he was being at least somewhat unrealistic in his expectations. When he had thought of this he'd envisioned a group of mages on par with Godou's 'harem' backing him up and lending their aid. Mostly he'd wanted them for suppression, taking down lesser foes that he either didn't wish to bother himself with, or who were distractions from a main target. With them backing up the warriors that were already sworn to his service he'd felt that they would make a potent combination, a mixture of melee and artillery, as it were. They could still serve in that capacity, the simple fact though, was that they would not be able to provide the simple quality of skill that he would have preferred.
Unfortunate though it was he could see the reason for this. He'd though of them being a match for the girls that were so obviously in love with his fellow king, but it hadn't been until he saw the abilities of his latest servants demonstrated that he realized how unrealistic a wish that was. In terms of purely mortal followers Godou was quite possibly the best served Campione in the world. Erica and Liliana were some of the best magical knights in the entire European continent, at least for their generation. There were those that surpassed them, who were more skilled or more powerful, but those were generally individuals well into their prime and able to call upon years of refinement and experience. By contrast the two knights were barely entering adulthood, and yet they were already upon a level where they could aid their king in battle with fellow God Slayers, or even Heretic Gods. Yuri might not be on their scale when it came to combat ability, but her spirit sight was top notch, and her ability to gain knowledge straight from the netherworld was one that would only increase in time, meaning that to a Campione like Godou, whose power could increase with knowledge, she was a first class asset. Ena was another war asset that might even be strong enough to eclipse either of the knights. Her ability to channel the divine power of the gods she made contracts with made her one of the very few mortals that could fight on the level of a Devil King, if only for a short time.
Shirou had Illya, but though she had power and expertise his adopted sister lacked any sort of formal training when it came to battle. Oh, she could use her magecraft to fight, but for all her ruthlessness and talent she still had so much to learn about how to operate in the midst of battle. Quite frankly it was only due to her immense talent, and no small amount of luck, that she'd faired as well as she had in the fights that she'd been engaging in. She was getting better; he knew that she often practiced using her Berserker doll in the middle of the night when she thought others were asleep. It was a foolish hope; one of the skills he'd inherited from Archer had been an awareness of his surroundings sufficient to let him know when others were moving around.
By comparison pretty much the only one of Godou's girls that Shirou would feel confident about Illya going up against would be Yuri. Erica, Liliana, Ena, all of them were either too powerful or too skilled.
That had been another thing that he'd wanted some battle mages for, to see if they could help his adopted sister develop her own battle prowess. Unfortunately from what he could tell as skilled and powerful as they were it was unlikely these new additions to his forces could stand against the sheer power that Illya could bring to bear on them, not enough to force her to push herself anyway.
Well, it was hardly as though they were really useless. Certainly they were less than he had been hoping for, but that was something that he could adapt to. The ability to create large, if rather simple, golems with a wave of a staff was hardly an inconsiderable level of power. Likewise creating short lived pseudo fire elementals or manipulating sand constructs were anything but useless. If nothing else then they would be of use against the servants of his foes.
Shirou's mind slid back to his battle with Mordred. He recalled when he'd summoned up his own undead soldiers to battle with the knights that the Heretic God had summoned up. Things had changed since then, enough so that if he was forced into the same battle now he was quite sure that the results would be different. Back then he'd equipped his army with Traced Noble Phantasms to give the edge they needed to win. Now, with the new Authorities he possessed he knew he could do far better. Steel for the Legion was a potent Authority, one that could raise the undead servants it was used upon to a level where they could not simply be ignored by a god and slaughtered with ease. If he equipped them with suitable copies of Noble Phantasms before then their battle capacity would be increased even further. And now he could summon up mages to lend them magical support from the back. Support which would be enhanced by them being equipped with armour provided by his Authority.
Huh, that wasn't something he had considered actually. Yes, the magic users that he could now call upon were below the level he would have preferred, but there wasn't any reason that he couldn't augment them using the resources at his disposal. The divine armour that he could sheathe those sworn to him was a good example, but give then using that Authority did seal his Tracing it might be best to think of it as a secondary option. More practical might be the idea of equipping them with Noble Phantasms, ones that worked to build upon their strengths.
"Sir Shirou, you are making a face most grave. Might this humble handmaiden enquire as to what might be troubling you?"
The eighth Campione looked up at Guinevere's question. As his thoughts had wandered his eyes had come to rest on the blade of the Jewel Sword, his gaze unconsciously tracing the subtle change of colours as ruby transitioned into garnet and then sapphire, and then emerald. It was a beautiful sight, one that he'd made more on impulse than any real thought, but he had to admit to a certain pride in it. He'd had a vague image in his mind, one that he'd known was rapturous to see, but which he would have been unable to describe or draw had his life depended upon it. On the other hand, he hadn't really needed anything like that to make his Mystic Code; he'd just pictured it in his mind and told his Authority to make it real.
And it had. It was a sight to see, something to be proud of. It was also something he didn't get enough of a chance to admire really, not when he had to keep it locked away most of the time. Realizing that he was letting his mind drift again Shirou shook his head and focused on Guinevere once more.
"Nothing too serious," he assured her, "I was just wondering how best to deploy some dead mages that have sworn themselves to my service."
"Oh, so Sir Shirou's allies continue to grow in number?" The blonde immortal smiled charmingly, even as she continued to feed his magic back into the sword that stood between them.
"I guess," he agreed, "The problem is that I'm unsure of what to do with the allies I already have."
Guinevere didn't voice any questions; instead she simply tipped her head to the side slightly, her face one of pure curiosity.
For his part Shirou briefly considered what he could say, then he began to consider a decision that probably wasn't the smartest one he could make, but at this moment he was increasingly finding that he didn't really care too much.
The simple fact was that he was tired, since coming to this world, since their very first moment here, both he and Illya had been doing their best to keep every possible detail about themselves as secret as possible. In the beginning they had done so because they had thought that to reveal their origins would be to become hunted by the magical societies of this new world. Later, when they had realized just how secure his being a Campione made their position, they had maintained their secrecy so as to ensure they wouldn't be exposing any weaknesses, and because they didn't want to draw any more attention than they had to.
Actually, now that he looked back on it, he realized that secrecy had become something of a habit for them. Something that they had continued to maintain even past the point where most of the reasons they'd been doing so had ceased to matter. He was a Devil King, and probably one of the more powerful ones in the world. Not only that, he had gods as friends and allies, wealth that only grew on a daily basis and a small army of souls sworn to his service, and of course there were the demons sealed up in his basement. At what point did sensible precaution become irrational paranoia?
Actually, now that he thought about it, maybe revealing his and Illya's otherworldly origins could open up new options for them. Yes, they knew of one potential way back home, but that was tied in with Odysseus, a Heretic God that seemed to have disappeared off the face of the world. Shirou had no intentions of giving up on tracking down the god that had tried to kill him, but as much as he hated to admit it he had to allow for the possibility that he wouldn't be able to. Heretic Gods were powerful; they were living natural disasters that mortals could never stand against. However for all that power it was unusual for a Heretic God to remain on the mortal plane of existence for very long. More often than not they were slain by Campione or other gods that sought the joy of battle. Sometimes, if they beat the odds, Heretic Gods used up their fevered energy and returned to a more calm state. Those, like the Japanese god Susanoo, returned to the netherworld and lived relatively peaceful lives there. Other gods remained on the mortal plane, but disappeared after they went into deep sleeps that could last for centuries.
There were a great many ways in which the travelling god could vanish if he so chose, and take with him that strange . . . interaction between them that had somehow opened up that unstable portal. If that happened, then Shirou could either devote all his resources and attention to track him down, or he could try to find other avenues of investigation to follow. Logically speaking it would be more sensible of him to do both, thus maximizing his chances of finding what he wanted.
And such effort would be greatly facilitated if he could simply announce what he was looking for and have the considerable resources of every magical association willing to aid him bent to the task as well. He could also offer an official reward for such information, that would certainly provide incentive beyond simple fear or obedience.
"Oh, Sir Shirou's face seems to be a bit less grave now. Have you thought of something more pleasant?"
"Indeed," he commented, nodding towards the blonde immortal, "I think I may have thought of a mean to aid in the completion of some of my very important goals."
"Oh?" Guinevere visible perked up at that. "This humble handmaiden would be most honoured if she could help her king in the completion of his ambitions. Might she ask what they might be?"
"Sorry," he replied, "I think I'll have to talk it over with Illya-chan before I can freely talk about it with others."
"Ah, so Sir Shirou continues to remain mysterious." There was a small smile on the Divine Ancestor's face as she made the comment. "Well, that is only to be expect, you are the King Shrouded in Mystery, after all."
"The King Shrouded in what?" The Emiya heir had no need to fake his puzzlement; the confusion in his voice was completely genuine.
"Oh yes, it is one of the more recent titles that have been awarded to Sir Shirou. In Guinevere's opinion it is quite an apt one, after all so much of Sir Shirou's past is unknown, and this humble handmaiden did quite some investigation while trying to learn more about you."
"Titles?"
There had been so much in that sentence that he could have focused on, but oddly enough it was that particular detail that his mind focused in on. He knew that he was known as the King of Steel, Guinevere herself had been the one to name him so, in quite a public manner at that, but he hadn't heard of any other names being attributed to him. What else were they calling him? The King Shrouded in Mystery wasn't too bad, but it still sounded like a character out of one of those anime that Illya was always trying to get him to watch. Could there be worse ones?
"Indeed, Sir Shirou has acquired quite the number of them for such a new king." The blonde immortal assured him. "Let Guinevere see . . . there is the title of the King of Steel, which this handmaiden bestowed upon you at the Feast of Kings. There it the title of the All Wealthy, which Sir Shirou gained after his personal fortune grew to such heights that the Committee realized that your wealth surpassed theirs. There is the title of the Host of the Divine, which became yours after you offered your hospitality to honoured Tiamat and myself, and then later to Sir Knight. There was also the title of the Impossible Mage, that one was earned when it was revealed that Sir Shirou possessed a mortal magic that could surpass the power of an Authority."
She paused for a moment, her eyes dropping in slight embarrassment.
"There are also some . . . less than kind titles that you have received." She admitted.
Shirou closed his eyes for a moment, as though fighting off a sudden headache, then opened them and looked back at her.
"Okay, I think I'm braced for the worst. What are they calling me?"
"Well, after your slaying of Venus some of your detractors have taken to calling you the 'Heartless King'." Guinevere visibly grimaced as she said it. A strange expression on her otherwise beautiful face. "There are also some that foolishly call Sir Shirou the Weak or Traitor King, since he has offered friendship to honoured Tiamat and Sir Lancelot when he had them at his mercy. They see his refusal to slay them and claim a new Authority as proof of weakness, that he is too soft to perform his duty as a deity slaughtering supreme ruler."
Honestly, Shirou found that he was more bemused than he was angry.
"And just who is saying this?" he asked.
"It is mainly the associations and covens of western Europe," she assured him, "Such groups have been fervent followers of his highness Sasha Dejanstahl Voban and are in awe of the zeal with which he hunts down and slays all the gods he can find. Their infatuation with his savagery means that a king like Sir Shirou, who has shown such kindness when he didn't need to, flies in the face of what they admire. There are also smaller associations around the world that regard the gods as the natural enemies of all mortals. To them your willingness to open your home to those that should be your enemies means that you are siding with them against your fellow mortals."
Again she paused in her words, and for a moment there was only the very slight hum as prana was circulated by her efforts to feed it back into the Jewel Sword.
"They are fools!" Guinevere declared, her tone vehement. "Sir Shirou is the strongest King in the world, and his so-called 'weakness' means that he has the strongest support in the world too. Guinevere and Sir Lancelot will offer all their strength to aid their king, and honoured Tiamat has regained enough of her strength that she can well stand as true goddess once more! Let them bay and growl like the worthless dogs they are, while they denounce your 'weakness' Sir Shirou will only grow in power, in every way!"
For his part they young Emiya found himself staring at her, slightly taken aback by the sheer passion of her words. The Queen of the Divine Ancestors spoke with absolute conviction, as though what she said was, as far as she was concerned at least, the unassailable truth.
"How am I your king?"
The question slipped out before he could really think about it. It was a simple question, but it carried a truckload of complications. Really, he hadn't meant to ask it, it could only leads to things getting more difficult if it uncovered things that should have stayed hidden. But he wanted to know, it was that simple.
"What does Sir Shirou mean?"
"I mean . . ." Shirou cut the feed of his magic into the Mystic Code as he slowly stood up, one arm waving in a vague gesture. "You were so dedicated to your king, the King of the End. I remember how you talked about him, back when I had my Feast, and when we had that competition of kingship. There were four of use there. Four Campione, your natural enemies, and yet you came to the Feast, and you spoke up for your King when you felt his path of kingship needed to be defended. I don't understand how you can just have given that up. How can I be your king now? How did you give up on Artus like that?"
"Ah . . ." the Queen of the Divine Ancestors glanced down in an almost bashful gesture. "Guinevere was wondering when Sir Shirou would ask this question. He has shown kindness and courtesy by waiting this long, but Guinevere knew it was a question that would need to be asked."
She paused again, obviously taking time to pick her words.
"Yes, Guinevere's loyalty to his highness, the King that Appears at the End of the World, was absolute, for it was for his sake that she existed. The goddess that I once was sacrificed her life to create the Holy Grail, and also ensured that her Divine Ancestor reincarnation would serve her beloved king as his handmaiden. It was to be my task to gather up the magic and life of other mother goddesses within the Holy Grail so that when I once more awoke his divine majesty the power residing within it would be at his disposal so that he could reach his full strength with ease. It was . . . the reason for Guinevere's existence, to revive his majesty Artus so she could once more glory in the service she could perform for his divine self."
She shook her head, he face become downcast.
"Two lifetimes and all the effort Guinevere and Sir Knight put into finding the resting place of our king, only to learn that he never wished for us to wake him, that our efforts were mere nuisances to him . . . It doesn't seem right that it should end like that. Guinevere despaired when she realized that Prince Alec was telling her the truth."
Again she paused, her hand reaching out to lightly touch the Jewel Sword.
"When Guinevere lay dying, the role of the handmaiden left her with the Holy Grail, but Sir Shirou saved her, so she did not die. You must understand, Guinevere is not a mortal, she was not born as a mortal, and she did not grow as a mortal. Guinevere came into life knowing what she was and what she would do; she was a handmaiden to his majesty, the King of the End. How could she be anything else, even after the role had left her? So once Sir Shirou returned me my life is it any wonder that I would chose to serve you in the only way I know how? Guinevere is no longer the handmaiden to the King of the End, but she can be the handmaiden to the King of Steel."
"Just like that?" he asked, his voice gentle, rather than accusatory.
"What else is there to be done? Sir Shirou need never fear for Guinevere's loyalty though. She has sworn herself as the handmaiden to his rule, and she shall not shirk in that duty, nor shall she betray a confidence. Sir Shirou is her king now, and even if divine Artus were to return then she would stand beside you against him."
Her eyes met his, and a slightly sad smile touched her lips.
"Not that it would make any difference if he were to become Sir Shirou's foe."
Huh, that came as something of a surprise. Just a few moments ago she was telling him how she felt he was the strongest Campione in the world, now she was saying that her aid would make no difference in a fight that she thought he would lose?
"Your former king, King Artus, the King that Manifests at the World's End, tell me about him, please."
As he spoke Shirou sat down again, and once more began to pour prana into the Jewel Sword. Raising her own hands the Queen of the Divine Ancestors once more took on the task of recirculating the unabsorbed energy. It was a simple task for both of them, something that didn't require much concentration once they began and left them free to speak.
"Guinevere has never met his divine majesty herself, all she has is recollections inherited from the mother goddess that chose to reincarnate as her." She admitted, "Still Guinevere remembers, she remembers his magnificence, the way in which he crushed those that stood against him. She remembers how he saved a nation on the brink of annihilation and then brought it back to prosperity. She remembers his charm, his charisma, the way in which it drew one in and let them feel part of something. The goddess, Sir Knight, even Mordred, all of them felt it; all of them followed Artus because he burned like the sun. He was so bright, so huge, so . . . so much, you could just look upon him and see all that you admired."
She paused for a moment, then continued.
"Looking back, I can see some of what Prince Alec spoke of. Though he was glorious in battle Artus never gloried in it. Never will you have met one so grand in combat that disliked it so much. To him facing his foes, be they gods lost in madness or God Slayers seeking his life, it was a chore, something that needed to be done, nothing more. Towards the end of his reign, before Mordred betrayed him, the goddess Guinevere once was could see him growing tired. She thought that it was the battles draining his strength, but now Guinevere sees it for what it was. Artus had grown tired. Tired of the battles, tired of the pressures of ruling, tired of the expectations that were heaped upon him. Had he been like other Heretic Gods then it would not have borne down on him so, he would have simply played at kingship until it ceased to entertain him, then abandoned it, but that was not his way.
"He cared about his subjects, he tried to fulfil the role that he had been given. He was both their king and their god, and he did the best he could to give them a paradise to live in. But even for a god the task was too great. The Campione that had ruled over Briton had left it a chaotic wasteland, and his majesty could never bring his full attention to bear upon it due to having to constantly fend of attacks from other Heretic Gods and the Devil Kings of the age. When other gods joined him this was bettered, but even so there was just so much to do, so much . . . so very much, and always there was another threat, another foe that needed to be defeated.
"I think . . . if what Guinevere sees in the memories of her mother goddess is true, then perhaps one of the reasons that his majesty fell into such a deep sleep after Mordred's betrayal was his exhaustion with his own rule. Perhaps that is why he did not wish for Guinevere to find him again; perhaps he felt she would drag him back into it once more."
It was strangely sad to hear. As she spoke his memories drifted to Saber, his Servant that had been his friend, then his enemy, then his victim. His other memories, the ones that he'd inherited from his other selves had filled in much of what he hadn't known about her. In his world she'd died relatively early in the War, consumed by Sakura's 'shadow' during her battle with True Assassin. She'd been resurrected, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say she was regurgitated, as the most powerful Servant in the war. No longer bound by his limitation, backed by Sakura's virtually limitless magical energy and blackened by the corruption in the Holy Grail, Saber had become an unsurpassable monster. Even Berserker, a Servant of mind boggling power, had been cut down by her with terrifying ease and fed to Sakura's 'shadow'.
He hadn't had as much time with her as his other selves had, but even so she had been important to him. She had agreed to fight by his side, to be his power at a time when he had been powerless. Those other versions of him, they had known her better, had seen parts of her past, had come to know her fairly intimately.
. . . Damn it, now he was thinking about that threesome his counterpart had had with her and Rin. This was not the time for that.
Anyway, he knew something of Saber's path. Of how she had tried to save her country, of how she had succeeded for a time, but how her own need to be a 'perfect king' had in time undermined her despite her best efforts. Then other factors had come in to play, Guinevere and Lancelot falling in love, Mordred's betrayal, Merlin disappearing, Morgan La Fay working her mischief, each alone would not have been enough, but in such swift succession of each other, with no time to recover . . . that had been enough.
He remembered the memory that his other selves had seen through their link, the hill, stained red with blood and dotted with corpses, devastation as far as the eye could see, and at the top, alone by the corpse of her 'son' had been Saber, weeping in a combination of rage and despair.
Was it a curse that afflicted all versions of his former Servant? Were all versions of the King of Briton destined to rise only to fall? It was not a pleasant thought to contemplate, but not really something that had much bearing on the current situation.
Still, Saber had been strong. In many ways she had been the strongest Servant in the War. To be sure, Gilgamesh had surpassed her in terms of the sheer firepower he could bring to bear, and Berserker had her cleanly beaten when it had come to sheer stats. But even so, Excalibur, and Avalon, they had been two of the greatest Noble Phantasms in the world, and Saber herself had possessed both great power and consummate skill. The only reason she had ever been at such a disadvantage in his War had been because she'd been burdened with such an incompetent Master as him. With Rin as her Master she had become a top level Servant. With Sakura as her Master she had become a veritable force of nature.
Huh, that was another thing that struck him.
"Guinevere . . ."
"Yes, Sir Shirou?"
"Just how strong was Artus? I mean, you know how strong I can be, yet you sound pretty sure that he could beat me. Just how strong is he?"
Absently he noted that he was falling into a more informal way of talking with her. It just seemed right really. Putting on the mask of the false king around her . . . it just didn't feel right. He supposed this was a sign that he was growing more comfortable with her presence, that she was moving from being an ally to being a friend.
No, wait. She had already been his friend, that had been the whole reason for him taking on Gascoigne for her. Damn it, why did feelings have to be so complicated?
"How strong was his majesty?" The Witch Queen's eyes seemed to mist over as she stared into the past. "That is one of the clearest memories that Guinevere inherited from her the mother goddess that birthed her. Sir Shirou, you are a mighty King, you have defeated foes of great power, even your fellow God Slayers. But Artus, he is the Strongest Steel, and it is no mere boast.
"Where other gods are powerful his majesty eclipsed them all. Just as the Children of Pandora hunt Heretic Gods so does he hunt the Children of Pandora. He . . . he is the world's final check against them, against your kind, Sir Shirou. Whenever there are too many Devil Kings, whenever they rampage beyond certain bounds and bring about an end to the world, he is the god that gods pray to for salvation."
A god to gods. Now there was an existence that was almost frightening to contemplate. Still, it did fit in with what little he knew of the King of the End. In some ways his role was similar to how the Counter Guardians had operated in his world, at least on a superficial level. The King that Appears at the End of the World was a final weapon that was deployed by . . . what? The world? The mother goddesses? Exactly to whom he answered was one of the mysteries that surrounded him, but that he was directed by some sort of force capable of judgement was clear.
"So . . . what kind of Authorities does he possess? Do you mind telling me?"
"Sir Shirou has only to ask. His majesty would have no concerns of Guinevere revealing his secrets to her new liege, that was always his way. He never bothered to keep secrets; others did that instead, concealing his identity and history out of both fear and adoration.
"As to Authorities, Artus had many. As a god of Steel his body was invulnerable to harm to a greater degree than almost any other gods. Hero gods such as Achilles, the Monkey King and Siegfried, they have taken on skins of iron by bathing in molten metal, searing rivers or even the blood of a mother goddess become a dragon, but he never needed that. His nature, his Steel, was so strong that his body was able to turn aside blows from swords, axes and maces wielded by other gods. Even the Authorities wielded against him by the Devil Kings he fought had great trouble in simply marring his skin.
"And that was not the only way that his Steel manifested. As the Strongest Steel all other Steel was subordinated to his, that was why lesser Steel could be captured by him when they fell, then resurrected to serve as his allies. They became weapons in place of the swords and arrows that he would give up in order to give them form once more. Many of the knights that Guinevere wrote as being part of the Round Table in later years were actually fallen gods of Steel that had been resurrected in order to serve his majesty.
"After his fall to the wounds dealt him by Mordred that Steel was lost, so it became this handmaiden's duty to try to recover further Steel, so that it might be ready to serve her king on his return. Sadly Guinevere was not very successful; the only Steel she was able to gather was that of the Great Sage Equal to Heaven. Now that, and the medallion left in her care, will be passed onto the next handmaiden so that they shall be ready when his majesty returns."
Alright, that sounded like a dangerous combination. Invulnerability wasn't an unknown power for gods, especially warrior gods, to possess. The notion of gaining protection in such ways was prevalent in any number of mythologies, as she had mentioned. Achilles in Greece, the Norse Siegfried, Sun Wukong in China, there were many examples. His being able to surpass them though, that was of concern. Though it wasn't quite as concerning as his apparent ability to bring fallen gods back to the battlefield as his weapons, that was entirely more disturbing. One god was enough to be troublesome regardless of just how powerful they were, multiple gods were even more of headache, but they tended to be too independent to work together. Subordinate gods though, especially powerful ones under a single more powerful deity, that was another matter.
However, even as these thoughts ran through Shirou's mind, the blonde immortal continued.
"However his majesty's greatest Authority was the Great Ritual of the Old Covenant," she explained. "By accepting the sacrifice of a goddess related to the Covenant it's possible for his highness to use this Authority to increase his power until it can match that of all the God Slayers that live in the world."
And with that Shirou found his thoughts coming to a screeching halt.
"What?!"
The question came out before could stop it, more an exclamation of disbelief rather than an actual question. Still, it was asked.
"Indeed, it is one of his majesty's greatest powers, one of the Authorities that secures his position as the Strongest Steel."
"So . . . when you say that he could match all the Campione alive you meant that he could just . . . what, raise his power until it was equal to all of them combined?"
"Exactly," Guinevere agreed, "The Great Ritual was conceptual ability that reacts to the existence of God Slayers. His majesty would immediately gain power equal to their combined strength. Since he was meant to bring down the Children of Pandora when their numbers grew too great and they ran amok it was the Authority meant to ensure they could not overpower him with numbers."
Alright . . . alright, he could deal with this. No, wait, this was ridiculous! An Authority like that was absurd. Admittedly it did have a steep price to be used, but once that price was paid then the King of the End would have been only a step or two away from being flat out invincible. No, no wait, he had to take this calmly. Archer had routinely battled beings several times his power, yet at the end he'd been alive and they had been dead. It was even the basic nature of a Campione to be able to overcome the odds; after all if they couldn't then they wouldn't have been able to kill a deity in the first place. Of course, there also came a point where sheer power created a barrier of its own, one that even the destiny defying power of a God Slayer might stumble.
Wait, hold on a minute.
"You said that was his strongest Authority? What about Excalibur?"
True, his research hadn't been able to turn up too much about the counterpart to his words Last Phantasm, but he did know that it existed, was called the Sword of Divine Salvation, and was regarded as an Authority of enormous power.
"Ah, but divine Excalibur it not only an Authority, it is also a subordinate deity," Guinevere explained. "Excalibur's legend now echoes to all corners of the world, and even before it received that name it was acknowledged as the greatest of weapons. It is the Strongest Steel of all, but it is also a part of his majesty, so the title is both of theirs."
"So . . . what can it do?"
"Excalibur is a weapon meant to slay the Devil Kings that beset the world, so it is especially dangerous against them. Against all other foes Excalibur is a deadly weapon, one able to summon up stars in the sky to crash down upon their foes, or call down blasts of light able to destroy cities or annihilate mountains. Against the Children of Pandora his highness can call upon the Divine Lightning of Salvation, steel tipped lightning that is poison to Devil Kings and can suppress their godly vitality. Even as a simple sword Excalibur is mighty, a single stroke may radiate massive heat waves to scorch the land and destroy whole woods.
"Of course, it is in its true form that the Sword of Divine Salvation is mightiest."
"Its true form?"
Honestly, Shirou was already concerned enough with what he'd heard. By the sounds of it the Excalibur of this world was an Authority that possessed pure overwhelming power. Mentally he equated it to something like Godou's Stallion Authority, only one that could be used again and again and on a larger scale. But this wasn't its main power, not if that wasn't its 'true' form.
Why did he have a worrying feeling that the other shoe was about to drop?
"Its true form is that of the Divine Sword Mandala," Guinevere explained. "Once invoked it allows his majesty to summon and use all the weapons in his arsenal, all the gifts given to him from gods from all parts of the east."
"All the weapons?"
"Indeed, Sir Shirou," she confirmed, "For his great valour in defeating the tyrannical God Slayers that troubled the ancient world his highness was gifted with weapons and artefacts by many gods from many cultures. Mithra, Indra, Shiva, Brahma, Hou Yi, all gifted him with weapons that bore their power and offered thanks for his great deeds. When Excalibur invokes the Great Mandala his majesty may not only use the powers of his great sword, but also freely call upon the arms that are held in his armoury. In this way he may call upon dozens of Authorities that are of other gods and use them as his own."
Dozens? That shoe . . . it was a rather large one.
"He's really got that many?"
"Sir Shirou, his highness has battled gods and God Slayers across the world, and those other gods that live in the land acknowledged their debt and offered him their weapons as both thanks and tribute. Sir Knight offered her own Lance of Mists to him when they first met, as thanks for his defeat of the vile Devil King that had been tormenting the land. Such as happened many times in the past, and his majesty's armoury has only grown as time passed."
Alright, it would seem that the King of the End was . . . formidable, to say the least. Perhaps even more worryingly he was seeing elements of the Servants his various other selves had faced in the description that Guinevere provided. Emiya, Heracles, Saber, Gilgamesh, there were bits of each of them in there. Maybe he was just projecting his uncertainties and bad memories onto the mental image he was developing, but even so he didn't think he'd be too far off.
The simple fact was that Heretic Gods and the higher level Servants seemed to be on more or less the same level. Mordred, for example, would not have been out of place in the Holy Grail War. His raw physical power, even before he became that corrupted hybrid of dragon and warrior, would have been in the A class range, and his Authorities were comparable to Noble Phantasms of various types. Shirou was pretty sure that Gilgamesh would have been able to overwhelm him, and Berserker might have been able to bring him down before all his lives were taken. Had Saber been at her best he was pretty sure that she might have been able to match the Traitor Knight, though his hybrid form might have too much for her if she didn't use Excalibur. All the rest of the Servants, Caster, Lancer, Assassin, even Rider, he didn't think they had the sheer firepower to finish Mordred off, not with the immortality he possessed with his layers of armour.
Yes, Mordred had been a powerful god, in terms of a straight forward fight he'd been the greatest challenge the Emiya heir had faced since coming to this world. Hmmm, that was an interesting idea.
"How would you say Mordred's strength compared to your former king's?" He asked, his tone reflecting his genuine curiosity.
"Sir Mordred was a powerful god," Guinevere allowed, though it was clear that she took no pleasure in allowing the Traitor Knight even that much credit. "During the times when his majesty ruled over Briton as divine Artus, Mordred served as his right hand and strongest supporter. Even Sir Knight acknowledged his strength, though she never admitted to it being greater than hers. Still, the only reason Mordred was able to inflict a mortal wound upon his majesty was that Artus at the time was exhausted from have had to face three Devil Kings in rapid succession and the Great Ritual of the Old Covenant had been lost.
"Even so, Artus was possessed of incredible power, even without the Covenant to empower him. Despite his exhaustion he was able to slay the traitor with his divine might, but not before being dealt a mortal blow in turn. Afterwards his highness descended into the earth once more to recover, and it was during that time that Guinevere's previous self sacrificed her power as a mother goddess to create the Holy Grail and reincarnated herself as this humble handmaiden."
Well, at least that meant he wasn't flat out invincible, just pretty damned close.
Shirou knew that a great deal of his reputation as a strong Campione was built on his successful defeat of Godou and Luo Hao simultaneously. To defeat an older and more experienced Supreme King like the Ruler of the Martial World was a noteworthy achievement, but have done so while she was allied with Godou, regarded as a promising Campione in his own right, had only augmented his prestige from the victory. The thing was that there had been factors that had spun things in his favour, such as his opponents being largely restricted to non-lethal tactics since they wanted to take him alive, while he had had only held back to the tiniest degree possible given his controlled mental state. Also it had been that strange mentality that had been forced on him that had allowed him to break through to his own Reality Marble; something so new that his opponents of the time had had no idea of how to deal with it.
Even so his victory over the other two Kings had left him spent. Maybe if he'd fought that fight in a more rational state he'd have been more cunning, but in hindsight his obedience to Venus's commands had probably been an important factor in and of itself. Regardless, the point was that by the time he'd won his victory he'd been so weak that saving Tiamat from Jord's attempt to devour her had been the absolute limit of what he could do. By contrast the King of the End had faced no less than three Campione one after another in rapid succession, and then still had strength enough to defeat and slay Mordred, a feat that had left him exhausted almost to the point of death.
More and more this divine counterpart to his former Servant was sounding like a major threat on the order of Gilgamesh.
Well, maybe that comparison wasn't entirely accurate. He knew, from the memories of the version of him that had faced the King of Heroes in his Unlimited Blade Works, that if he deployed his Reality Marble then he had a good chance of defeating him. The problem was that Gilgamesh possessed pretty much unlimited firepower in his store of Noble Phantasms. The reason he'd lost to Shirou's counterpart was that he hadn't seen him as 'worthy' of facing the king's full power. Unlimited Blade Works was a powerful weapon, but Ea was something that literally destroyed worlds. Had the Golden King brought it out immediately then the Reality Marble would have been torn apart.
In the end it came down to who could effectively use their trump cards first, and in that situation Gilgamesh was more constrained by his vast ego. Using his 'true' sword against a lesser foe like Shirou's counterpart was a thought he wouldn't even contemplate, instead he'd use 'lesser' weapons to wipe him out. However, if Shirou himself were to face the King of Heroes things might well go differently. For all his overwhelming ego and arrogance there was no denying that Gilgamesh was dangerous for more than his treasury. He was keenly observant, and had an uncanny ability to see through his foes. Caster had been a sorceress from the Age of the Gods, and the Golden Servant had still seen through her cloaks and tricks with frightening ease. He'd also shown himself to be quite capable in evaluating the strengths and talents of his enemies, though this was mitigated by his contempt for them all regardless of their merits.
If the two of them were to meet Shirou was fairly sure that Gilgamesh would realize just what he was at a glance, a man who wielded the powers of a god. Faced with such a 'worthy' foe there was a good chance that the King of Heroes would forsake his normal reluctance to push himself and would instead bring out his more deadly weapons straight away. Under those circumstances Shirou honestly wasn't sure of his chances of defeating him. If he could close to melee range then there was a good chance his superior skill and physical abilities could overwhelm Gilgamesh, especially if he used both Dragon Slaying Hero and Armour of the Champion together. At a distance though . . . even if he didn't bring out Ea his enemy would have enough sheer firepower to bring down even the Titan Knight before it could reach him.
Realistically speaking, his best option against Gilgamesh was to use Golden Cupid to befuddle his enemy's mind. True, given that Gilgamesh's ego was so great that it had been able to resist the bile of Angra Mainyu; the arrows of love might be less than totally effective. However their largely unblockable nature combined with the King of Heroes tendency to remain stationary while attacking his target meant that their striking was almost a certainty. That golden armour of his had a decent magic resistant quality, but Shirou was fairly sure the arrows could get through. What effect they might have was a different matter.
Of course, this was all purely hypothetical. Gilgamesh was gone after all, and Shirou was never going to use that Authority if he had any other choice in the matter. And letting himself be turned into an oversized pincushion by an ungodly number of Noble Phantasms was also a choice.
Actually . . . was Gilgamesh dead? Shirou had never seen him in his own Holy Grail War. No, there was absolutely no chance that the King of Heroes would have stood on the sidelines and just let things go without interfering. Something must have happened to him; somehow he must have been consumed by Sakura's corrupted Grail. Exactly how that happened he didn't know, but it must have happened. Huh, maybe Saber Alter was enough to bring him down? Given how she could use her version of Excalibur almost continuously she might have been able to do it.
Oh well, this was all just speculation in any case. And it had led his adrift from the matter at hand.
"So, do you think I will have to face Artus?"
As he asked the question Shirou ceased to pour more of his prana into the sword before him. That was quite enough for one day, it had been just over half of his full reserves, an amount that even a top class magus like Rin couldn't have matched if she'd stored every drop of her spare prana for a year straight. Not for the first time he considered that the most dangerous thing he might face if he found a way back to his home dimension would most likely be Rin herself trying to experiment on him to see what made him tick.
As the flow of magical energy slowed and faded Guinevere leaned back and gave the question some thought.
"Well, Sir Shirou is the eighth Child of Pandora to reign in the mortal world at this time. To have eighth God Slayers in the world at once is unusual as far as Guinevere knows. She can't actually remember another time when there were so many Devil Kings in the world. Normally this would be enough to call up the King of the End, but the God Slayers of the current generation have not brought as much hardship and suffering upon the mortals and the world as past Kings have. Guinevere doesn't think that the King will be awakened by the cries of the world, though it is possible that a Mother Goddess shall be willing to sacrifice herself in order to call him up. Still, it shall be no easy feat to rouse him from his slumber, Guinevere knows."
There was a slight note of bitterness to her words, and Shirou could understand. She had spent more than a century trying to find and awaken Artus, she had endured hardship, given everything she had in the attempt, almost lost her life to it, and in the end had found out that rather than being the saviour of the sleeping king she was simply an annoyance to his rest.
Okay, change the subject, change the subject.
To what? Put on the spot Shirou found his mind treacherously empty. Wildly he cast around for anything to talk about, and his wandering thoughts came down on a rather odd subject.
"So, how is Lancelot enjoying the games she bought the other day?"
It would seem that since the Knight of the Lake had fully incarnated as Heretic God and now lived in the fairly opulent mansion of the Emiya family she had been taking full advantage of his generosity and plundered several of Illya's games and their consoles. She seemed to be a fairly big fan of the action RPGs, especially those that allowed for a lot of character customization. She didn't seem to have any preference of the type of characters she played; having been knights, wizards, assassins and even smiths in the various games Shirou had seen her play.
He'd been somewhat surprised when the goddess of Steel had come up to him the other day and asked for some money so she could actually go out and buy a game. He'd offered to have it delivered to the house, but she'd been pretty insistent on getting it herself. That had been an . . . interesting experience.
Come to think of it, he still had that card in his pocket. He'd have spoken to her about it sooner, but Lancelot had disappeared into her room to play her new games as soon as they'd returned, and Shirou had been distracted by Illya asking him for some help with one of her latest projects. By the time he was free again he'd completely forgotten about it.
"Guinevere went in to speak to Sir Knight earlier," the golden haired immortal answered. "At the time she was engaged in battle with some sort of goat creature. One that spat fireballs of green flame and summoned up undead sheep clad in burning wool. Apparently if she slew this fearsome foe then she could advance to the hidden dungeon wherein she could challenge the vampire camel lord to battle so that she could claim the key that allowed her to face the mummified hippopotamus prince. Should she be successful in that endeavour then she would complete the quest and claim the Rod of the Lost Ancients, a prize that would allow her to customize her characters sub stats values."
"Huh?"
All Shirou could do was blink in surprise as he stared across at her. What was she talking about? Vampire camels? Mummified hippos? Just what kind of game was she playing? More than that, why did it sound as though the Knight of the Lake was somehow starting to slip away from rational behaviour?
The notion was almost absurd, an otaku goddess? No, more than that, Lancelot herself, the very epitome of knighthood and chivalry, her as an otaku? It sounded like the plot of a comedy manga.
"Guinevere is thinking about trying out these games that Sir Knight has become so enamoured with. If she is willing to devote such time to their enjoyment then there must be something to them."
Shirou was beginning to think that maybe he had been a bit too overly generous in providing entertainments for both his adopted sister and his guests.
"King Emiya?"
The question didn't come from Guinevere, rather it was from a young man that had walked up to them, but was remaining a respectful distance away. Shirou couldn't quite place his name, but he knew that he was a former circle member, namely one of the forced recruits that Illya-chan had managed to acquire. Right now his posture was nervous, but not afraid. Not bad news then, despite his best efforts some of the former Circle members still seemed to think he was in the habit of shooting the messenger.
"Yes?"
"A delivery has just been made to the manor, your highness. It was the file that you requested Estevan to acquire for you. You left instructions to be informed immediately as soon as it arrived."
"Ah, I have been waiting for that to arrive. Please have it placed in my study, I'll be there momentarily."
Even as he gave the instructions Shirou mentally allowed himself a smile. Estevan was one of the recruits from the Circle that had come after Illya had forcefully taken it over. With Yusuke having taken over total control of all the financial matters that the inducted members had been able to give him access to, the remaining free members in Europe had found themselves faced with a choice, they could either surrender to the authority of the Campione, at least as far as they were concerned, who had conquered them and now held all their purse strings, or they could flee with what they could carry and try to make a new life for themselves.
The Circle of the Chosen hadn't been filled with members that had that much in the way of initiative, at least as far as financial matters went. The Circle had never had to worry about money due to the regular influxes of precious metals and jewels that Hades had bestowed upon them whenever he awakened. As such the small cult-like mages association had been able to focus upon the advancement of their crafts and researches rather than having to quibble over such mundane details as how to pay for their next meal. The loss of the source of their easy income had come as a devastating blow to many of them, since having to worry about paying for anything but the most expensive of items was almost a foreign concept to them. That had been why so many of them had gone along with Beradino's plan, even though it meant trying to extort a Campione, they had just been that desperate.
As a result when news of what had happened reached them surprisingly few had tried to flee. Those that did didn't make it very far, with most of them later returning to the Circle after realizing that their insular lifestyle had left them unprepared to deal with the complexities of the outside world. A report he'd received had informed him that a number of them had turned to trying to use their magical education to commit petty crimes, but members of the Copper-Black Cross had quickly brought them down and seen to their imprisonment.
Basically this all led to Illya and Shirou finding themselves in charge of a small magical association that had been composed of main academics with few practical skills. They'd been able to make it work, especially with Yusuke at the helm, but for the most part there had been few useful members to be had.
Estevan, who apparently lacked any sort of family name, had been a glaring exception to that particular rule. Apparently he'd been a part of the ruling body of the Circle, and had been in charge of keeping an eye out for security threats, or other associations trying to horn in on the Circle's holdings or personnel. He'd advised against going up against a God Slayer, but in the rush of fear and greed he had been overruled and ignored. Once the Circle had fallen to Illya and her puppet Berserker, Estevan had been one of the last people to arrive from Italy. As it turned out his greatest skill was in information gathering, though rather than for research he used it to remain abreast of current events. He'd been of great aid to Yusuke, who had him monitoring various high risk business enterprises, but he had also made it a point to develop some contacts in regards to the local mages association, namely the History Compilation Committee.
To be sure he hadn't done anything so intricate as to set up a genuine circle of informants or organize an intelligence network, but what he had managed to put together was a large number of people willing to talk with him about what they knew. Certainly, alcohol, food and a few strip clubs did contribute to loosening their lips, but it wasn't anything that a semi-competent private investigator wouldn't have used if the situation called for it. It wasn't quite a back door into the inner working of the Committee's leaders, but for what he wanted it would serve. He had asked Estevan to talk to all his contacts and try to compile a general overview of the current state of the Committee's rank and file, as it were.
He deliberately hadn't informed the former Circle member of what Homura had let him know, instead he wanted to see what the information he compiled suggested to him. Shirou wanted his agent's honest opinion on how things seemed to be balanced in the Committee at the moment. If it matched with what Homura had told him . . .
He'd have to see.
"Thank you very much for your time, Guinevere." The King of Steel said as he nodded to the immortal witch queen. "Unfortunately duty calls. I hope we can have more such talks in the future though. It was . . . informative."
"This handmaiden is ever at the service of her king." She replied, inclining her head in a deep bow. Still, Shirou was sure he could see a pleased smile play at her lips.
Well, that was something. Honestly he hadn't been too sure what to do with a handmaiden, he'd simply accepted her as such because it seemed like a good way to keep her close and ensure her safety. Since then she had proven herself useful, but he was unsure if she was content with the situation. After all, for decades she had been on a quest to revive her king from a sleep like death, compared to such a fairy tale undertaking helping him charge the Gem Sword seemed like quite the step down. He'd been trying to find other things for her to do, other duties that might be worthy of her, but quite honestly he was coming up blank with most of it. Sure he had some ideas, but they seemed a bit too much like exploitation for his taste, even if he was sure she would be willing to do them.
The thing was that he wanted her to accept him as a friend, and ordering her to sit in a workshop for hours so as to mass produce some of the artefacts she was capable of making didn't strike him as something a friend would have her do.
This though, this was better. Perhaps he wasn't comfortable wit her in the role of a servant, but as an advisor . . . that was a different matter. With any luck he could build on this, make it into something that could work for both of them.
Right now though, he had a report that needed reading. He wondered what decision he'd end up making after he'd finished with it.
-()-
One would think that by now Homura would have developed some sort of tolerance for this state of suspense. Here he was, waiting for his king once more, and he felt exactly the same way as he had last time. And the time before that as well.
"Alright, I've decided to go with your advice. Please inform the Committee that they have my offer of leadership if they would so choose to comply."
It was such a simple sentence, but it was one that validated all his efforts up to this point.
Well . . . maybe not quite.
"Your majesty, what do you mean 'if they would so choose'? Would it not be best to simply inform them that they should accept your authority? I assure you, none would refuse such an order from you, and it would most likely do much to cement your position."
He was careful not to sound critical or disapproving. He was well aware of his place, and it was not for him to gainsay a God Slayer. He could offer advice, point out options that his liege might have missed, but ultimately the final choice lay with Shirou-sama.
"That isn't how I wish to bring them beneath my . . . reign." The King of Steel explained, "I shall give them the option to refuse me, but I shall also give those that wish to follow me the opportunity to do so. I want no violence, no discord in this matter. Make that clear to all when you inform them. However, if the History Compilation Committee is unwilling to come under my authority then please inform those that do wish to serve me that I would welcome them should they chose to leave."
Alright, this wasn't quite what Homura would have preferred, but it was certainly something he could work with. Had the eighth Campione simply demanded that the Committee submit to him then it would have simplified things, but he supposed that it wouldn't have been in keeping with his normal character. Creating an option for them to accept his rule or, if the Committee did not wish to, opening a path for those that wished to so they could leave, that did seem more in keeping with him.
Actually . . . as he thought about it more Homura realized that there might well be more to the offer than he'd originally thought. Yes, on the surface it was a simple offer, one that gave the Council of the Committee an option in what they wished to do, but that was only if you didn't look beneath the surface.
They didn't have to join him. They didn't have to accept his authority, but at the same time he had made it clear that any who did wish to join him were free to do so. Of course, that did essentially back them into a corner. At this point in time roughly half of the Committee members favoured Emiya Shirou as their choice of King to serve. Of that number a good two thirds would be willing to leave the History Compilation Committee if it meant that they could enter the eighth Campione's service. Two thirds of a half, that meant a third of the whole. That meant that the Council had no choice, only the illusion of it.
Once again Homura felt his admiration for the King he had chosen to follow swell even larger. This . . . this was the kind of brilliant tactic that had convinced him to swear his service to the King of Steel. Koizumi Watanabe had spoken of his admiration for Emiya-sama's prowess in their negotiations. He'd never been overtly aggressive or domineering, yet he had somehow managed to totally control the flow of the discussions and more or less dictated the terms without allowing the negotiator an opening to disagree with or even object to. He'd simply closed off all avenues so there was no path to follow save the one he wanted.
That was more or less what he'd done here. In a single sentence he had laid out the History Compilation Committee's options as being either service to him, or evisceration as more than a third of their members left. Granted, many of those that supported the choice of Emiya Shirou belonged to the younger generation, those that wanted a more . . . dynamic ruler. Kusanagi Godou was a powerful King, but his demonstrated lack of interest in exercising that power made him the favoured choice for the more conservative members of the magical association, those that preferred to maintain the status quo rather than raising waves. These individuals generally belonged to the older and more established families, meaning that in terms of resources and connection the pro-Kusanagi faction had a distinct advantage.
However, those that followed Homura belonged to the field agents, the bodyguard sector, the couriers and managers. Essentially they were the 'hands' and 'muscle' of the Committee. If they were to leave then the association might survive, but their ability to act would be crippled for months, maybe even years, and the large portion of an entire generation of their agents would be gone. Hell, it was entirely possible that if they did refuse, and the Pro-Emiya faction did leave, then the Committee would have to approach the eighth Campione and actually ask to be allowed to enter his service so that they could recover enough to continue their duties.
Yes, it was all Homura could do to keep a slightly maniacal grin from breaking out on his face. With this there was no chance for those decrepit old fossils to keep the Committee from following the correct path. There would be some issues still, but with his Highness having taken a more concrete stance the former field agent was sure that he would be able to leverage circumstances as needed.
This would even allow him to neatly avoid the potential civil war that had been brewing beneath the surface. As he'd said to Emiya-sama, there had been a lot of issues brought to the surface on this, lots of other things getting dragged into the debate as to which king they should support. True, he might have been willing to set off that civil war himself just yesterday, but that had only been when it had been his final resort. Now, with Emiya Shirou having stated his wish and the matter settled, there was no reason for such a dire step to be taken. Indeed, it would be best to avoid it at all cost since it would only serve to harm the History Compilation Committee's effectiveness as an organization, and Homura had no intention of presenting his king with a damaged prize.
Standing from where he had been seated the former field agent bowed formally to the eighth Campione.
"I completely understand your highness. All shall be as you wish, and I see no difficulties with implementing your orders."
Well, that might not be entirely honest. Homura could see a couple of issues that might pop up even in the best case scenario, but that was irrelevant. He would ensure that if any problems did raise their heads then they would be run over by a steamroller. He would not tolerate anything interfering at this point.
"Good," The King of Steel nodded from where he was seated, casually leafing through a folder of information that Homura had handed to him a few minutes ago. "Also I want you to ensure that there are no issues with Godou. Leave his girls alone, I don't want to see any idiot attempts to recall them or anything like that. Make it clear that even if the Committee has agreed to accept my authority I have no intentions of changing their relationship with him."
"Of course, your majesty."
Simply another proof of Emiya-sama's forward thinking. Other Kings, lesser Kings, might have tried to hoard the resources of the History Compilation Committee for themselves, seeking to deny them to a fellow king and thus secure their own position. Inevitably this would lead to conflict, and most likely end up with the very association that was the prize of the battle being torn apart between them. Emiya Shirou was not so foolish though, seeing the wisdom of cooperation and knowing which battles were pointless to fight.
Maintaining good relations with the other King of Japan was a sensible route to take. Seishuuin Ena and Mariya Yuri were each powerful Hime-Miko, but it was quite clear that their hearts belonged to the King of Ruin, and any attempt to take them by force would only lead to him fighting back with all his strength. Granted, Homura had absolute faith that his chosen King would emerge the victor of any conflict between them, but it would be a senseless and wasteful fight, one without meaning or reason.
Japan could, in many ways, be regarded as one of the safest countries on the planet at the moment, and that was due to the presence of two Kings. More than that, they were two Kings that would not only refrain from interfering with the lives of the mortals in their domain, but who were also willing to work together when needed. Such alliances, no matter how shaky, were as rare as gold dust and immeasurably valuable. He had no desire to cause any sort of damage to that relationship.
"And after that, what should I say your new policies will be?"
That was the main question that everyone in the Committee would be eager to hear. King Emiya was a well respected king, despite his relative newness to the role, but his unpredictability left many within the magical association unsure as to what he'd do once he had confirmed dominion over the dominant association in the Japanese isles. Well, here he was, asking that very question. Well, it was time to find out.
"I only have one task that the History Compilation Committee need concern itself with, beyond what I've already requested of them." Shirou said.
"A dedicated investigation into the origins of the Heretic God Odysseus and into his as yet unknown ally. Also we should continue to track down any knowledge related to travel to different worlds." Homura nodded, knowing that both of these tasks had been a part of the Committee's general efforts for weeks now. "Have no fear; those will continue to be pursued with all the diligence displayed up until now. What was this new task that you wanted taken care of?"
"I want the Committee to begin making plans to quickly evacuate a large portion of Tokyo at an extremely short notice."
The former field agent blinked at that, his mind stalling slightly as he reviewed the request from his king.
"Your highness, that is no small task that you ask of us. It can be done, but I fear that the resources needed to implement something like that will not be easily marshalled or casually used. At your command it will be done, but if I might ask, why do you feel it necessary?"
"My last battle with Odysseus nearly ended with the absolute annihilation of the island we fought on," The All Wealthy King explained, his gaze slightly distant as he spoke. "None of us, not me, not my sister, not even the goddesses with us, were entirely sure what happened to prevent it, but it was stopped. If not then the resulting damage would have been . . . enormous. Out there at least it would have been limited, contained by the ocean. If it happens again, here in the city, the result could be something akin to a nuclear detonation."
The words were spoken clearly and calmly, but Homura felt a cold chill run down his spine. Mass destruction was never an impossibility when Campione were involved. The old comment about the Devil Kings reducing entire cities to seas of flames might be cast about rather liberally, but that didn't mean that there was no truth to it. Voban had done it once before, reduced a city sized area to a charred wasteland during his battle with the three Chinese weather gods that he had been fighting. Luo Hao had the same capability, though her transformation of vast areas into green hells was less destructive and more terrifying in a way. Even John Pluto Smith, arguably one of the most benevolent of the current generation of kings, at least until the rise of the Japanese one, was theoretically capable of massive widespread destruction if he used all of his Artemis Arrows at once.
Still, there was something more . . . real about the threat of an explosion on par with a nuclear weapon. Japan had been the only country in the world to suffer a military nuclear attack, and even after all these years the scars still ran deep. More than that though, if such an explosion were to take place there was a good chance that it might incite the country to believe it was under some sort of attack.
For a moment his mind conjured up images of miscommunications, accusations, retaliation, a world caught in the flames of a nuclear war gone out of control, then his rationality reasserted itself.
Japan had no nuclear weapons of their own, and it was unlikely that a sudden atomic detonation on their shores could trigger the Armageddon his imagination had conjured up. True, it might send the world into a frenzy of speculation, blaming everything from terrorists to black ops from every other country in the world, but in the end it was unlikely that any of the nuclear powers would make any moves without their own interests being threatened. To be sure Japan would suffer terribly, but it would hardly be a true apocalypse.
And if the city was evacuated before hand the damage would at least be somewhat mitigated. The loss of buildings and property would be terrible, but it would not be unrecoverable. The Committee would have to make some sort of cover story, most likely some sort of terrorist attack that had been discovered but not prevented, but if the loss of life was minimized then the public would be more willing to swallow it. Of course the terrorist cell that committed such an attack would need to be dead already, probably in their own detonation, otherwise the public would call for a veritable crusade against them, somewhat difficult if they didn't actually exist. Well, he supposed that some existing organization could be blamed, evidence manufactured, false memories implanted. It would give the general population some catharsis to have them placed on trial and sentenced.
Homura shook his head as he realized that he'd allowed his thoughts to wander due to the sheer enormity of the task that his king had set before him.
Oh well, he had thought . . . no, he was still convinced that King Emiya was the correct king for the Committee to follow, and this only served to confirm his beliefs. This sort of forethought was a good thing, something many kings lacked, their feelings for the mortals under their protection being that they were of as much consequence as paint upon the walls.
"I shall see to it the very instant that the Committee receives word of your decision."
"Very well. If you please, please deal with that now. I would prefer to avoid any further delays."
Homura elected not to draw things out any further; he just nodded his head respectfully, then bowed to be on the safe side, and left the room. Soon he was pounding down the stairs, his cell phone at his ear as he relayed the news to his allies in the Committee. He felt a slight pain in his cheeks, and realized that his mouth was spread in an almost maniacal grin.
He'd done it! He'd finally managed to bring the History Compilation Committee under his great king! Granted, it hadn't been finalized, and his king was choosing to be gentle in his acquisition of the organization, but all that meant was that there'd be a slight delay before the matter was finalized. The Committee would bow to the King of Steel, of that the former field agent was absolutely certain; it was just a matter of time now.
This was great! This was what he'd been working towards ever since the battle with the Monkey King!
He continued down the stairs, and as he did so he felt his cheeks begin to ache again.
Heh, it was a good pain.
-()-
"Godou, it's happened! Emiya Shirou has moved to take over the History Compilation Committee!"
The so called King of Ruin looked up at the blonde Mage Knight that had just burst into his room and was now looking down at him. Absently he couldn't help but notice that the angle from which he was forced to look up at her from only served to make the swell of her bust that much more apparent.
It had been a rather nice quiet night up to this point; the most challenging thing he'd had to deal with up until now had been his math homework. That was the way he'd have liked things to stay, after all, today was the first quiet day he'd had in a while. Not having to learn sword fighting with taskmaster sensei, no Mariya trying to further his education on the History Compilation Committee's history, no worries about Athena's return. Just a nice night in, worrying about the same things that normal students did, was that really too much to ask for?
Now there was this to deal with.
Before he could say anything he heard the doorbell to his house chime again. He was about to get up, but he heard Shizuka answer it. There was some conversation that he couldn't work out, then the sound of several pairs of feet making there way up the stairs to his room.
"Your majesty, we've come to play!"
"Ena, not so loud!"
"Ah, I see that you're already here, Erica."
There was a general babble of voices as Liliana, Mariya and Ena all trooped into his room.
"So . . . why are you all here?"
"Because I called them here," Erica explained, casually sitting down on his bed as she did so. "Given the momentous event that has occurred it was imperative that we immediately met to talk about what has happened, and what we can do in response."
"Yeah, you said something about the Committee being taken over? Does that mean that they've signed up with Shirou?"
Godou could honestly say that he wasn't all that concerned. He'd been aware of the situation with the History Compilation Committee for a while, but he didn't really see any problem with them being subordinate to his fellow King. As long as it was Shirou, it wouldn't be so bad. He might be a good deal scarier than most of the other Campione in the world, but he also seemed to be one the most sensible of the lot. Sure, he might act weird sometimes, but the more that the seventh God Slayer interacted with him the more certain he was that his fellow Japanese King was someone to have confidence in.
He was certainly more reliable than Donii or Voban, neither of those two were the types that could be considered dependable. The King of Swords was liable to wander off as soon as something caught his attention, most likely a promising fight or a strong opponent, and the results would probably be general chaos and destruction. Voban, on the other hand, would simply follow his own whims and wants without regard for any others, something that could result in as much or more damage than Donii's bumbling.
As for the other Devil Kings he'd met . . . Well, John Pluto Smith seemed to have his heart in the right place, but it was rather difficult to view someone that wore a mask and cape, and claimed to be a superhero as being a reliable ally. As for Luo Hao, while he held his self appointed older sister in high regard that didn't change the fact that her sensibilities had no place in the modern world. A few hundred years ago she would have unquestioningly have been a great hero and ruler, one respected by the masses and feared by her enemies. Unfortunately that kind of mindset no longer fitted into the modern world.
He'd never met the other Campione that had recently come to Japan, Alexander Gascoigne, but given his actions, stealing from the Committee, stealing from Shirou, trying to kill Guinevere, he didn't seem a particularly sensible fellow either.
Ultimately it all came down to the fact that despite the whole mess with Venus, Shirou seemed to have been the God Slayer that the young Kusanagi had the easiest time getting on with. So, if he wanted to take charge of the History Compilation Committee Godou didn't really see any problem with it.
"Indeed," Liliana commented, having also seated herself on his bed. "From what I have heard it was a masterful stroke by King Emiya. He offered them terms that were completely reasonable, yet left no openings that the Committee could use. Truly, King Shirou is a most cunning and domineering negotiator."
There was a brief pause as Godou looked at them all. Then, since it seemed they were waiting for him to say something, he asked the only question that he could really think of in relation to this matter.
"So . . . how is this going to affect us?"
"I don't think that there'll be much of an impact on us," Mariya volunteered. "Amakasu-san came by the shrine earlier to let me and Hikari know about what was happening. She said that King Shirou had made a point of stating that there wouldn't be any problem with us and Ena remaining in your service."
"There!" Godou couldn't help be feel a triumphant grin form on his face. "I told you that Shirou wouldn't do anything stupid like try to recall of Mariya and Ena. I know he can be a bit strange sometimes, but he's never struck me as the kind of guy to pick a fight so uselessly."
"That may be," Erica agreed, getting off the bed and beginning to pace about the room. "I have no doubt that his highness will not do something so foolish as to try to seize Mariya, her sister or Ena for himself. His devotion to the mysterious 'Sakura' is already known through the world, so there is nothing to worry about there. The issue is that as his influence has waxed yours has begun to wane. The History Compilation Committee is the premier magical association in Japan, and your having apparently lost it to your fellow King will convey the impression that you are inferior to him in the eyes of those that watch from afar."
Her movements as she paced weren't hurried or nervous, instead she moved with her normal unconscious sashay. It was a movement born from natural grace and poise, not something that was affected consciously. Not for the first time the young Kusanagi found himself wondering just how in all the heavens he'd managed to gain the affection of a girl like this. Even in a world where magic and knights didn't exist someone like Erica would have been a fashion model or famous actress. Here though, here she was a mage knight that was regarded as one of the best in the world, and by some miracle she'd decided that HE was her King. It boggled the mind.
Of course, the same could be said of all the others, Liliana, Mariya, Ena, any one of them was a treasure in their own right in the magical world, and yet here they all were, in his room ready to offer their help.
The world was a strange place.
Still, he couldn't afford to get lost in his thoughts. Mariya and Ena had both taken the spot that Erica had vacated and were now watching the Mage Knight as she continued her slow pacing. The elder Yuri sister seemed a touch concerned, but Ena seemed more amused than anything else.
"I had thought that we had more time before this became an issue, but it looks as though circumstances have advanced faster than I thought they would." Erica stopped by the room's window and turned to face the others. "The simple truth is that when it comes to gathering influence King Shirou has the distinct advantage. Measure for measure Godou has more individual Authorities, thanks to having usurped so many from Verethragna, but in sheer utility Emiya Shirou is far better equipped."
She paused for a moment, then made a vague waving motion in the air, as though trying to shoo away something that she didn't want to hurt.
"I must confess that I never would have expected to see an Authority so adept at producing wealth though. Though his Rule of the Underworld is only of moderate use in combat his ability to draw upon unlimited wealth has been of vast aid in his rise to power."
"Look, Erica, I really don't get what you're worried about!" Godou exclaimed, feeling his patience fray a bit. "I get why you wanted to make sure the Committee would swear to me, but I think things turned out okay. Shirou will do a decent job with the Committee, he won't try to mess with Mariya, Hikari or Ena, and he won't try to mess with us. Everything's fine, right?"
-()-
It was all Erica could do not to sigh in frustration at her beloved's hard headedness.
Godou was by no means stupid; indeed he was really quite intelligent and cunning when the need was upon him. The problem was that he couldn't see the curves of things, the more intangible elements that wrapped about the situation like drifting spider webs.
Under normal circumstances his unambitious attitude would have been . . . well, perhaps not 'fine', but certainly something that could be worked around. Being a Campione meant that he was the supreme force in any location that he chose by virtue of simply being there, so long as no god or fellow King challenged him for it. Were he the only God Slayer in Japan then it wouldn't have been an issue, the associations and guilds would have fallen in line behind him even if he didn't try to enforce his will upon them. Unfortunately, with a second Devil King brought into the mix they were left with a choice and a defender if Godou were to retaliate for not choosing him.
Not that he ever would. Erica cut off another sigh as that particular thought ran through her mind. She loved Godou, there was absolutely no doubt of that, she knew his bravery, his cunning, his viciousness when it came to fighting a foe that had the advantage on him, even his willingness to sacrifice himself. She had full faith that in time he would rise to become a Supreme King that stood above all other Kings. However the main impediment to that far off goal was Godou himself.
He didn't seem to grasp the fact of just how cutthroat the world of the God Slayers could really be. In many ways his life so far as a Devil King had been both hectic and peaceful. On the one hand he had gone from crisis to crisis what with the gods he'd faced, the mess with the Monkey King, the disaster with Venus and Jord, and so on. On the other hand his foes had mainly been honest in their desires and goals; he'd not had to face any intrigue or deceptions. Even when he had fought against others of his own kind it had been head to head, no alliances, back stabbing or knives in the dark. As a result her King didn't understand just how important it was to build up a support network of allies and associates.
It was true that the power of their Authorities allowed Campione to tower over mere mortals in such a way that resistance was futile. However, this didn't mean that mortals were without consequence. Campione always died by violence, either at the hands of the Heretic Gods they battled or at the hands of others of their kind that challenged them, but those battles were not unaffected by the mortals that served them. It wasn't unknown for the subjects of King that were tyrants to hold back a crucial piece of information, or offer poor service when aid was called for. On some occasions Campione had even found themselves poisoned upon the eve of some grave battle. Those that did so very rarely survived, but the act alone placed the Devil King in question at a disadvantage that in time led to their deaths.
Godou had support, powerful support in the form of her, Liliana, Mariya, Ena, and even little Hikari, that much was absolutely certain. However that small handful of devoted allies couldn't take the place of a nationwide organization like the History Compilation Committee. They could provide all sorts of things that her and the rest of Godou's 'women' wouldn't be able to. Information from a frankly massive network, resources in the form of transport, accommodations and manpower, even immediate resources that could be tapped on almost a moment's notice should the situation call for it.
Being dependant upon another for all of these was a glaring weakness that could be exploited by those sufficiently ruthless or cunning. Godou couldn't afford such a weakness, not so early in his rule. Later, when he had accumulated more Authorities and influence, then he could allow himself a weakness or two for the sake of his conscience, but only when he was strong enough to cover them.
Quite simply, her beloved king needed to do something to demonstrate his power, and soon, otherwise others would smell weakness, and whether it was real or just perceived would be irrelevant.
Perhaps . . . yes, that could work.
Erica didn't know the exact details, but she knew that the Committee had been split on quite a number of issues, not simply which king they should be swearing their allegiance to. Logically speaking, even if the main issue had been settled there would still be a considerable amount of other conflicts boiling beneath the surface. That meant that even if the principle matter was dealt with there would be those who were unsatisfied with the outcome. That was something that could be taken advantage of, if one was imaginative and a little unscrupulous. Given that she exhibited both of those traits that would be no issue.
Yes, the History Compilation Committee was going to be swear themselves to Emiya Shirou, this was a fact, and one that she should just accept since she couldn't change it. If it couldn't be prevented then the logical next step was to mitigate the damage that losing it would have upon her king. If she couldn't secure the organization she wanted, then perhaps she could create something similar. Those dissatisfied from the ranks of the Committee, if she offered them an alternative then perhaps they would choose to leave their posts and join it rather than remain.
The main problem was that there might still be some bad blood in regards to the History Compilation Committee. She would have to take care of that, make sure that antagonism didn't spring up. Making an alternative to King Shirou's service only served them so long as it didn't lead to conflict. If she did set up a second magical association then she'd need to make sure she didn't let herself or her king get dragged into an unneeded confrontation. Still, that shouldn't be too difficult, not so long as she acted carefully.
There were issues of course. This plan would require funding, capital, things that her king couldn't produce out of nowhere and the All Wealthy was so capable of. Still, she did have the backing of the Copper-Black Cross, and that was something. Certainly there would be a limit to the funds that they could provide, they had commitments of their own to maintain after all, but there should be sufficient seed money to allow for the setting up of something. It would serve to foster better ties between them and Godou after all, and that was always a good thing. The Copper-Black Cross might not be officially allied with the seventh Campione, but her presence at his side had not gone unnoticed, nor had the fact that they hadn't sworn themselves to Salvatore Doni. If she could convince them to help in this matter then not only would she secure his local aid, but she could also all but guarantee overseas support as well.
Of course, there was the issue that some of the Japanese mages might be less than impressed with the new organization being funded by foreign organizations. Such complaints could easily be quashed by Godou claiming that it was at his behest, after all the will of a Campione was absolute, but there was still the possibility of underlying tensions. Actually, if she could persuade him to simply demand the money from Copper-Black Cross it might well be better for all involved. It would let the new organization here to save face, and the Italian association could easily spin it as lending aid to the Japanese Campione. If the funds given could be repaid later then it could even become a feather in their cap.
Or . . . a smile crossed her lips as a thought occurred to her. Actually, wouldn't King Shirou be willing to help fund such an endeavour? After all, she would be helping him by taking a collection of malcontents off his hands and trying to put them to productive work. When looked at from that perspective didn't it make sense that he should be willing to take on at least some of the financial costs? She'd have to be diplomatic in how she presented it to him, and she would also need to avoid seeming as though she was begging for a handout, but the idea had merit. She could present it as a business scheme that would probably be the best way.
She would need to be careful in just how much she asked for though. If she asked for too much it could easily be seen as an insult or slight, one which could place her, Emiya and Godou all in difficult positions. Too little and it would be an insult in the other direction, a seeming jab at the eighth God Slayer's needlessness in the new organization. Honestly, she didn't think that Shirou would have any problem supplying the money, she felt she had a decent grasp on his personality type, despite how his character seemed to jump about. Money in and of itself had little meaning to him, but it did serve as a sort of measuring aid for reputation and regard, and those were things that he did hold in value.
It was an intriguing idea, and if she could get it to work then, provided she was able to give it the right sort of spin, it might well serve to enhance Godou's reputation somewhat. On the other hand it might be more trouble than it was worth, especially for an organization that would no doubt be inferior to the parent association of the History Compilation Committee. Still it was something that she felt would be of use. It might be smaller than she would have preferred, but with a Campione offering them backing even a small organization could quickly grow in power. Still, intruiging though it might be she would make efforts not to have to rely upon it, it would be far better if she could carry through her idea without having to involve the second King of Japan.
And of course, she couldn't let Godou know of her plans just yet. If he did then there was a chance he might veto them rather than letting things continue. It would be far better to keep quiet about it and then just present it to him as a fait accompli rather than try and convince him of the correctness of her plan.
Oh, and she still had to answer his question.
"I have no doubt that his majesty, King Shirou, will be able to put the resources and people of the Committee to excellent work," She allowed, "But the simple fact is that if they serve another king you cannot expect quite the same level of aid that you have enjoyed up until now. There will be hesitations, worries as to whether or not they are acting in their king's best interests by aiding you, miscommunications. None of it will maliciously intended, but you will be forced to contend with it."
"I fear that I have to agree with Erica," Liliana commented as she nodded her head. "I can affirm, from my own experiences in the Bronze-Black Cross, that it is all too simple for chaos to seep into the lines of communication when the wishes of a king are involved. I have no doubt that the History Compilation Committee would try to perform as best they could for you. However with their loyalties beholden to another king . . . I fear that Erica has struck the nail on the head."
"Hey, hold on a moment now!" Yuri's voice rose up in a slightly uncharacteristic exclamation as she slapped her hand down on the desk she was sitting beside. "The Committee would never leave Godou-san poorly served. Even if they do swear their loyalty to Emiya-sama they would still continue to give Godou their best, at least as long as Emiya-sama doesn't specifically order us not to."
"I don't know," Ena commented, leaning back against the pillow she had snatched from Godou's bed and was now using as a pillow where she sat, "Grans was always complaining about how people in the Committee were able to make a mess of even the simplest orders. I remember once she told me about how the Heads ordered for some agents to investigate a girl that was showing signs of having talent as a Hime-Miko. Two weeks later they'd ended up kidnapping the poor girl, teaching her magic and started up a cult in her name. Grans said that if they had been trying to rebel against the Committee then she could have understood how it had happened, but the thing was that they had really been trying to follow their orders. It turned out that their orders had gotten switched a couple of times with those meant for another team. It was a small mistake, but it snowballed out of control."
Erica could only blink at that. She knew that such events weren't unknown, The Copper-Black Cross had a story about some poor fools that ended up carving half of a mountain face into the likeness of some Campione before they found out that the real orders they had been sent had meant for the visage only to be the size of a man's torso, and carved into a pillar, not onto a mountain face and a few hundred feet in size. Supposedly the error had been a misplaced decimal point, and the whole debacle was regarded as a cautionary tale. Still, it was odd to hear of a recent such example.
"I'm sure that the Committee could maintain the standards that it has shown until now." Yuri replied, her face calm and secure in what she was saying.
"Maybe, but even so that doesn't address the other matter of import in this. Namely the loss of face."
Honestly, Erica hadn't wanted to bring this up, since she knew that Godou didn't really place much import or weight upon his renown as a Devil King. But it seemed as though this was going to be the only way to get him to understand just how important it was.
"Erica, come on." Godou's reply was almost pleading, and for a moment she had to concentrate on making sure her heart didn't pitter patter. How did he manage to make himself look so adorable so easily? "You know I just want to live a normal life. If Shirou wants to take on the Committee then that's fine, I'm sure he can manage it better than me. As for losing face; you know I don't care too much about that."
"Hey now, you shouldn't be so dismissive of it!" The protest came from Ena, who was now sitting up and looking at him with an earnest expression on her face. "Reputation can be pretty important, especially if you want people to leave you alone. If you don't have standing as someone that shouldn't be messed with then you'll always have to be dealing with the small fry that keep bugging you because they don't know any better!"
Erica blinked at the black haired Hime-Miko, then nodded emphatically.
"Yes, not quite the way I would have put it, but Ena has the right of it. Your renown as a Campione isn't just a matter of ego; it is also something that serves to shield you from the vast majority of the magical world's less savoury elements."
"Like what?"
Alright, this was progress; at least he wasn't just denying things out of hand.
"Well, on the lightest end of the scale if your reputation suffers enough then I'm sure that you can expect a visit from her Eminence, your sworn sister. I'm sure that if she feels it is needed she will come here to straighten you out so that you will not bring dishonour to your name, or to hers."
It might have been slightly petty, but Erica did take a small amount of pleasure in watching Godou blanch as he heard that. Given his power and position it was easy for her king to dismiss many of the trials and consequences that normally would have followed his actions. Luo Hao, on the other hand, was nowhere near as easy to disregard.
"How are your lessons going with Tanaka-sensei? You were improving quite a bit the last time we sparred."
Ena's innocent question came at the perfect time. Really, if Erica had somehow scripted this it wouldn't have been in the least bit different. Godou had been reluctant to take his lessons with the blade master seriously, but when the martially inclined Hime-Miko had challenged him to a sparring match it had become clear that his skills had improved to the point where he was at least semi-competent with a sword. That, combined with his natural talent for battle meant that he had given her a surprisingly good fight without having to use any of his Authorities. Liliana had been the one that had managed to get Godou to admit that the lessons were a good thing, no matter how he might despise them. As a result the lessons continued, and even though he disliked them the blonde mage knight knew that the young Kusanagi had come to respect his teacher in the sword arts far more than he casually let show.
Still, he loathed the lessons and made no secret about hiding it. Those lessons had been a gift from his sworn sister, her way of supporting the young man she had taken as an oath sibling. What might she do if she got it into her head that he was letting her and her name down? Erica knew that her king had spoken to Lu Yinghua in the past, and heard about some of the 'training' that his master had put him through. One could only imagine what she would regard as a suitable training regime to bring a fellow God Slaying King up to the level she would think suitable of them.
Godou was certainly trying, she could tell by the way he had paled slightly and was beginning to look distinctly uncomfortable.
Excellent.
"I'm . . . doing okay. I hardly have to redo the exercises that sensei has me going through. He says that soon I'll be ready to start practicing with a proper weapon."
"That is most heartening to hear," Lili commented. "Perhaps at some point soon we could enjoy a spar of our own; it would be a pleasure to see how far along your skills have come."
"I think I might request the same at some point," the Diavolo Rosso said, putting in her own two cents, then took on a more serious tone. "However right now we have other matters to discuss. Godou, you do realize that if the repute of your name falls then a visit from her Eminence is the least that you can expect, right?"
"Uh . . . what do you mean?"
Good, perhaps he was finally beginning to understand the severity of the situation.
"Well, I'm certain that you can expect a visit from his majesty Salvatore Doni. Knowing him he would be disappointed to hear that you'd grown weaker and would have to make sure that you were 'levelled up' enough to give him another good fight. I'm not sure how he'd do it, but I can imagine that it would be somewhat troublesome to have to deal with."
Ah, another hit home! Godou visibly flinched at that one, probably because he knew that it was something that the somewhat . . . impulsive Campione might well do, regardless of consequences or difficulties. He most likely remembered just how the King of Swords had managed to arrange for their first fight, something he did not want to have to go through again.
"And, of course, there is always Marquis Voban to consider. He might have abandoned his last battle with you, but that was because he was defeated according to the terms he set. If your reputation falls, then it will damage his since he lost to you. What do you think will happen then? Might he become interested in . . . erasing that particular loss? And how do you think he'd go about accomplishing that?"
Now her king was looking distinctly panicked. Well, she could understand why. Though he had acquitted himself well during the fight with Voban, that had mainly been due to the older Campione not being too serious in his fight. He had relied upon many of his lesser Authorities in that battle, and had not brought out those capable of greater levels of destruction, nor had he attacked with all the fervour he possessed. Instead he had used one Authority after another, constantly pushing the seventh King to see how far he could go. Godou had won by forcing the fight to continue past the deadline that the eldest of the Devil Kings had set, but by that point he had used up many of his powers had had few arrows left in his metaphorical quiver.
Godou was stronger now, having acquired two more Authorities since the last time he had faced the older King, but even so Voban, at least if he chose to use his full strength immediately and without restraint, was still too much of a threat for her beloved to handle. To be sure, her faith in him remained undaunted, but though she was sure that he would one day become the strongest Campione of all that day was not yet now. He still needed time, time to grow, time to harden, time to sharpen his fangs. Losing face could well deny him the time he so desperately needed, and she had to make him see that.
"It is not even just your fellow Kings that you need to be concerned of," she continued, unwilling to let go of the momentum she had been able to build up. "Heretic Gods may also be informed of this by their worshipers, and if they see you as an easy target then they will flock here in hopes of using you as a whet stone to sharpen their skills upon before moving onto the stronger kings. Then there will also be the ambitious and the foolish that will seek to improve their own standing in the world by facing you in battle. If they think you weak then they will seek to bring you down, to make you a sacrifice to their own renown. If they were to manage it then they could boast of doing what no mortal has ever been able to before, the head of a Supreme King would make their own authority a thing to be feared and deferred to by all the mortal associations."
"Alright, I get it."
To her surprise Godou didn't sound angry or resentful, that had been something that she'd been prepared for, something she'd been willing to take if needs be. Seeing him . . . dispirited instead, that was harder. She could understand why, at least to some degree. Despite his attitude the elder of the Kusanagi siblings was actually a surprisingly powerful Campione for one who had been such for less than a year. So any mortals coming against him were going to be more like being bothered by flies than being genuinely threatened. He wasn't frightened, battle didn't scare him, she knew that very well. What had brought his mood down was that once more he was getting dragged into the affairs of the supernatural against his will.
Well, he'd get over it.
Gripe as he might about the troublesome nature of being pulled into such conflicts it didn't change the fact that once he was there her king thrived like a man born for it. That was part of why she had such faith in him one day ascending to being the greatest of all the Campione. Luo Hao had perfectly polished skills, Emiya Shirou had magic that could even defy Authorities, but Godou had more natural killer instinct than either of them. Had he been born in another era he might well have led armies across savage lands to conquer an empire and found a civilization. In this era though, civilization was already there, so the fires of ambition that could have burned in him were never ignited in the first place. It was almost a joke in and of itself.
Still, that wasn't the issue at the moment. She had managed to get her king to understand the gravity of the situation, so now she had to give him the advice he needed. That was why she was his knight and first woman after all.
"I know that things seem somewhat bleak, but I don't think you have too much to worry about. I have an idea that might help with the issue of having lost the support that the Committee provided, though I'll have to check some details first."
That being to see how feasible her plan was to form an offshoot of the History Compilation Committee under Godou's control, and implementing it if it looked like she could.
"You can build your own power base up by continuing what you're doing with her Eminence's servant to improve your skills. Perhaps some sort of display of power as well." She paused for a moment as she contemplated the worth of that idea, then dismissed it. "No, that wouldn't be your sort of thing, it would seem too staged, too forced, hardly something to engender respect. No, we'll have to take the slow boil approach on this, go for a slow but steady build up of strength."
She paused for a moment, then nodded her head.
"Oh, and we can't forget about you seducing Athena when she returns. Adding a goddess to your retinue would go a long way to increasing your standing."
"Are you still going on about that?" Godou sounded genuinely pained as he asked the question.
"Of course," It wasn't Erica who answered, rather it was Liliana. "We spoke of you needing to play to your strengths, well your ability to capture the hearts of any maidens foolish enough to approach you unawares is a strength that none here will deny. Entrapping the goddess's heart and binding her to your side is indeed a suitable move to make, one that will earn you much renown."
On hearing the pale haired knight's apparently honest opinion of his womanizer talents Godou seemed to just slump in place.
"It may still be some time until she arrives though," Ena noted, her tone turning playful. "Maybe his majesty should sharpen his skills in preparation. I, of course, would be happy to help, though I don't mind if Yuri-chan wants to join in too."
Of course this caused the elder of the Mariya siblings to turn red and begin a stuttering denial, but honestly, Erica wasn't paying attention. Really, if that girl ever intended to be Godou's woman then she was going to have to get over this shyness of hers. At this rate it was more likely that her younger sister would be ready to . . . consummate the matter before she was. Instead she looked at Godou, watching as he pulled himself back together and his earlier slump disappeared. Yes, he might not be completely happy with what was going on, but he was dealing with it and getting ready for whatever might come next.
"Well, maybe I'll get lucky and she won't show up for a while."
His words were so quiet that the Italian Mage Knight almost missed them; she doubted that they were meant for her ears, most likely he hadn't even been aware that he'd spoken them out loud. She didn't reply though, all she did was allow herself a pleased smile. Godou's luck was an odd thing to say the least. On the one hand he was able to defy the destiny of mortals and succeed in defeating a god. On the other hand, had he ever been able to stay out of trouble when it came calling for him?
She didn't think so.
-()-
This had not been how she had planned for things to go.
That was the thought that continued to repeat itself again and again in her mind as Athena stood upon the roof of the huge mortal sailing vessel of metal. This was not how she had wanted to return to the lands in the Far East where her chosen prey awaited her. This was not the time at which she had wanted to return. This was not even the location upon that chain of isles where she had wanted to set foot ashore. None of it was in any way as she had planned.
Unfortunately, goddess though she might be the world had not seen fit to bow to her whims as she had wished it to. Her triumphant return to King Godou's lands had been marred with many setbacks and tribulations almost from the instant in which she had decided that it was time for her to return.
Idly she gazed down at the ship that was carrying her across the waves. It was a massive thing, many times the size of the ships that the Greeks had used to sail about their islands and harbours. In those days not even brilliant Daedulus would have conceived of anything like this. Truly, mortals could be most inventive in what they build or forge. She had chosen this in particular because her knowledge had told her that it was bound for Japan, but even though she was on her way there at last she couldn't bring herself to feel the joy and anticipation that she'd expected to fill her heart.
She was now far stronger than she had been before. Perhaps she was not as powerful as she had been when she first faced the Seventh of Pandora's children, but in a way this was even better. Back then she had been . . . drunk upon her restored strength. So euphoric had she been with the restoration of what had been lost that she had not bothered to try and reign in her divine power as it began to run rampant across the city. Darkness and death, two of her oldest Authorities, had threatened to drown the entire population of mortals in short order, but at the time she had not cared. Essentially she had become a Heretic God, her full power having driven her into the same intoxication by her nature that other gods suffered when they broke free of their legends.
Now though, after all the painstaking time and effort she had taken, her power was restored. This time though, it was a patchwork thing, a mixture of her own power and those of others left behind by her fellow mother goddesses that she had integrated into her divinity. It sat somewhat uncomfortably, but it was strong, and, more importantly, it was not overwhelming. The very discomfort that she felt kept it from growing too comfortable, too easy, too intoxicating. As such she knew that even in the heat of battle her control would not be tested, not as it had been before.
So, she had been ready for her triumphant return, her strength restored and her heart resolved, that was when she had felt a call through the Void. It had been a weak thing, clearly the work of a mortal mage, and under normal circumstances the goddess would have paid it little mind. However, flushed as she was with the joy of having regained her lost might, Athena decided to answer the call. After all, it wasn't as though she was committing that much of her resources to it, nor was she diverting from her course to answer the call. Rather than responding in person she was simply using her own power to ride upon the spells call so that she could reply to those that had sent it out.
"Mother goddess, honoured goddess, goddess of the Earth and life and death! Hear our plea, hear our prayer, hear our need, and grant us your mercy!"
Interesting, it wasn't a call meant for her in specific, but rather a call cast out into the world for any of the Mother Goddesses to answer. Her blank expression had been tinged with mild interest and she felt some curiosity as to just what the matter was about.
"Speak! You have the attention of this goddess for this moment. Relate why you have called upon me swiftly, or suffer my ire."
There was a brief moment of confusion and disconnection upon the other end of the spell, then a few seconds of frantic activity. Athena didn't allow a smile to touch her taciturn face, but internally she did feel a touch of amusement. Clearly those that had sent the spell out had not been expecting a reply so soon afterwards. No doubt they had been planning to spend hours or even days repeating the message again and again in hopes of attracting some deity's attention. A risky proposition given that some gods regarded being called upon in that way to be an insult, or there was the chance that though they might attract the attention of a deity it would not be the sort that they were calling for, a result that could be almost as perilous an outcome as raising a divinity's ire.
She supposed that was part of why she was answering to the call, curiosity as to who would be so desperate as to use this method despite the myriad risks that it entailed.
"G . . . Great Mother, you honour us with your notice, might we have the name of the goddess that has deigned to answer our call."
Well, foolish mortals they might be, but at least they had the proper level of deference to her. That was a good sign; it meant that she didn't have to deal with the occasional egotistical fool that seemed to think the gods were there for their convenience. Such dolts were not common, but every century or two there were some, some that thought that since they called down the gods it meant the gods had to obey them. Needless to say, they were swiftly disillusioned at the hands of the divinity they sought to order. Fortunately it seemed that these mortals were aware of where they stood in regards to her, even if they only had her voice to hear.
"We . . . we beg your indulgence for this presumptuous calling, but we have no choice but to entreat a boon from you. In return we are willing to pay what price is needed, merely ask it of us and we will bend all that we are to pay it."
Well, that was pleasing. Tribute from mortals was hardly something that she needed, but with the fullness of her power restored Athena was feeling unusually generous. She would hear what it was these mortals wished of her, and so long as it was nothing foolish such as immortality or the return of the dead then she might well choose to answer their request.
"And what boon would you ask of me? What reason did you have to seek the aid of a Mother Goddess of the Earth?"
If all truth were to be told then Athena could not rightly claim the title of such, even though she did bear the mantle. Though she was an incarnation of much, death, darkness, womanly wisdom, snakes and the underworld, never had she been a mother, though the right and power of it was hers. The closest she had ever come had been in her incarnation as Metis, and even then she had not really given birth, she had only reincarnated herself from the fallen queen into the dutiful daughter.
Still, childless though she might be motherhood was still a part of her being, it was simply a part she had never chosen to exercise.
"Oh Great Mother, we entreat you to grant us this boon. Keep our families safe from the darkness that is to come, allow them safety, let them live their lives out in peace and security from the doom that comes. We are willing to give up all for this plea to be granted. Our lives, our souls, all that we own! Merely ask it of us and it shall be offered up to you gladly, we only ask that our kin be safe in return."
The Queen of Darkness blinked at the request that had been made of her. That . . . was unusual; she'd been expecting requests for ancient knowledge, the healing of an injured loved one, the impartation of power, things of that nature. Protection though, that was less expected, but she supposed that it wasn't too far from what she might have anticipated. Still, there was something oddly intriguing about the darkness that they wished to be protected from. Darkness was her domain after all, so anything to do with it was worthy of her notice.
"Your plea has been heard and I shall consider it," She informed them. "For now speak to me more of this doom that you face. If I am to offer my protection against it then needs be that I must know of it and what the nature of its threat is."
Even as she sent them her words Athena was also sending her mind and will down the spell, tracing it back to its source. She had no malicious intent; she simply wished to take a look at just with whom she was dealing with.
The task was easy to one such as her, and in short order she felt a picture come together in her mind. There were several of them, just under a dozen or so, and they stood in a circle, their hands unjoined, but some sort of ribbon connecting each hand to that of the figure that stood next to them so that the circle was a closed one. Within the circle was some sort of spire. It was a thin and short thing, only coming up to an adult's waist, and seemed to be the pale white of bone. Its sides were visibly inscribed with runes, though she didn't waste any time trying to identify them. She already knew what this was, some sort of Dragon Bone or Angel Remnant, something that explained how such a small group of mortals had been able to cast out such a strong message.
What was interesting was that of all present as part of the circle the youngest of them had to be in their fortieth years, while the oldest there were at least double that. So, these were the older members of their family, taking steps to protect their young ones? That seemed to be the best interpretation of what she was seeing through her power. If she wanted she could always tap into the Void to pull forth her answers, but that was unnecessary at this point, and she was certain that her reasoning was correct. They had chosen to take this route because they were those willing to give up their lives if needed. They had lived out those lives well, and were ready to surrender them if needs be to preserve their younger kin.
Athena wasn't impressed, few things that mortals did could have that much of an impact upon her, but she did feel some small sliver of approval. Quite clearly this wasn't some random gathering of the greedy that she was dealing with. These were dedicated people; those who had taken this route because they felt it offered them the best chance they could find. But even if they were to fail, they had taken steps to ensure that only the older generation was lost, at least to this.
"Honoured Athena, a member of our circle is gifted with some small measure of prophecy. Always before her foretellings have been vague, indistinct things. However three days ago she had a vision that was completely clear to her. She said that in ten days time darkness would cover the world. Darkness would roll forth and death and worse would hide in its depths, hungry for those that would be lost within it. She also saw the way to survive, that only the protection of a Mother goddess would be able to keep one safe from what hides in the darkness."
That was of some interest to the goddess. A prophecy was not something to be taken lightly, not even by a divinity. Athena herself had little talent for foreseeing the future, at least not in any mystical sense, but she had dealt with those who had in the past. Sometimes it had even been her that gifted mortals with such an ability, though perhaps calling it a 'gift' was not entirely accurate. To see into the mists of time was a double edged sword, one that could cut the wielder just as easily as it would any other. She didn't know why, but her intuition was telling her that this was no casual prophecy. This was something with weight and power behind it, something that was going to come true.
Also there was the matter of what they described. Death and darkness, both of those were aspects of her power, Authorities under her command. Could this foretold calamity be of her creation? She supposed that if she were to fall prey to intoxication by her own power then she might well let them run rampant as she had just before she had faced King Kusanagi. Or, she supposed, it was possible that her power would slip from her control and run wild on its own. Such was highly unlikely, but the patchwork mantle of divinity she wore could prove to be more fragile than she believed. If something unexpected should happen and her divinity was to be torn asunder once more then it was possible that such a thing could happen.
Or, it could be something else entirely; after all she was not the only deity in the world with command over such forces.
She felt her brow furrow slightly at that thought, discontent nibbling at her heart. If it was another god . . . then that could mean that her long awaited death match with the young King that had caught her attention might well be imperilled. Kusanagi Godou was a King that would rise up in the defence of his subjects, not hide in fear or discard them as he hunted his prey. If the one behind this possible future was as powerful as these mortals seemed to think then it might prove problematic.
She didn't have enough information, that was the simple truth of it. The mortals were saying something else now; some plea for the safety they desired, but she paid it no mind. Instead she drew upon her Authority over the darkness and used it to reach out. This was not an exact tool for her use, since this was not the way that the Authority was meant to be used. Athena had been the Queen of Darkness, but that sovereignty only extended over her own darkness, the one that she cast. What she was trying now was to reach out to see if she could find the darkness of others.
"Take this."
She sent her words to the group, manifesting a small part of her divinity in their presence through the link. It latched onto the Dragon Bone they were using and sank in, the traces of divinity already there welcoming her power with surprising ease. She had expected some resistance, but it seemed that whichever god it had come from was compatible with her power.
"This shall cast a veil of my own darkness, one that shall offer protection from any darkness that might threaten you. Stay within its bounds and you shall have my protection. The price shall be levied upon you afterwards, for now I shall seek the source of this coming darkness."
It was the truth, though perhaps a slight exaggeration. The protection she had imparted would indeed hold back another god's darkness, but only so long as that deity's attention was not focused upon them. If that did happen then the shard of power she had left there would alert her, and she could use its power to travel there swiftly. It was not the ideal protection, but it was the best that she was willing to provide them with. She could exact her price for it later. There had been words of gratitude from the mortals, but now the ancient goddess was no longer paying them much attention.
That was what led her to her current situation. She had been planning to take things more leisurely, perhaps even let her prey know that she was returning so that he would have plenty of time to muster up his full strength. Instead she was now riding upon this vessel that was carrying cargo, taking a direct route so that she would arrive as soon as possible. Internally she cursed that when last she had been in his country she had not been recovered enough to mark a location as her own. Had she done so then she would have been able to walk there through the darkness and avoid this journey in its entirety. Instead she was forced to use this mortal ship to bear her to her destination.
In all honesty she was uncertain as to why she felt this sudden urgency. The prophecy had been vague, and she had not even bothered to hear just how it was worded. But despite that she felt a twitch in her gut that told her on a purely instinctual level that this was not something to be casually dismissed.
This was not how she had planned to do things, but it seemed she would need to return to the Far East sooner than planned.
-()-
Shirou sat in his mansion's dojo and watched as the sun set outside.
He supposed that if someone was watching him they might have found his actions to be somewhat unsettling, maybe even a bit on the creepy side. After all, who sat in a dojo with the lights off and watched as the shadows lengthened and grew into darkness as the sun dipped beneath the horizon? When you got right down to it he actually agreed with the sentiment, what he was doing wasn't something that could be considered a 'normal' activity. Still, he found that just sitting here, watching the day go by was oddly relaxing. After all the rush, all the hecticness, all he wanted was to enjoy some stillness and silence after all that he'd had to deal with.
To make matters worse he was still a bit unsure as to whether or not he'd made the right decision in regard to the History Compilation Committee.
On the surface of it the question had seemed to be almost laughably simple. Everything he'd been able to find had indicated that Homura had in no way been misleading him as to the situation within the magical association. Tensions within it were every bit as taunt as he had described, and according to every source he had been able to access things were only going further downhill as time passed. The heads of the families were digging their heels in, and the newer members and their followers were becoming more and more restless as there seemed to be no change.
So he'd been left with a simple choice, either take command of the Committee, convince Godou to do so, or do nothing and watch things crumble, all the while knowing that it was his own fault for not doing something in the first place.
Needless to say option three was utterly unacceptable. Shirou might have changed a great deal from the person he had been at the start of the Holy Grail War, but no matter how he revised his priorities he would never simply leave someone to die if he could help it. Granted, the situation might not be quite that bad, but by the looks of things there was a strong possibility of fighting, and no matter what anyone intended once a fight broke out it would be all too easy for things to escalate. Even if it didn't, fighting was a chancy thing even at the best of times. All it would take would be one accident, one missed step at the wrong time, someone hitting just that little bit harder than they thought they did or should have done. That was how the bodies started to pile up, as the cycle of retaliation was kicked off.
So that left either him stepping up, or convincing Godou to do it in his place. Quite honestly he had been leaning towards convincing his fellow King to take the position. Shirou himself didn't want to have to deal with it, and he knew that the Seventh Campione had closer ties to the organization in the forms of Yuri-san and Ena-san. True, Kaida and Manaka had been assigned to him, but they were his friends, rather than apparent harem members as was the case with Godou, at least according to Illya anyway. Also, he had been sure that if the other Japanese King were to take the reins of the association then he wouldn't do anything so foolish as to sour relations between them by forcefully recalling the pair.
Still, in the end he hadn't felt that he could in good conscience simply foist the whole matter onto Godou's shoulders. His interactions with his fellow Campione had been . . . inconsistent at best, so he had a bit of trouble getting a proper grasp on his personality. The problem was that while they had a fair amount of interaction at the school they both attended neither of them showed all of themselves there. Shirou played the part of the normal student, even though these days he wasn't too sure how much of that was an act and how much was real. Godou, on the other hand, seemed to be completely genuine in that he really was a normal high school student. However this image clashed rather violently with the cunning and ruthlessness that he had shown in the past when forced into battle.
At the Feast of Kings he'd said that he accepted his role, but at the same time wished that he was simply a normal person. He'd even gone so far as to say that he considered himself to be something of a hypocrite for both wanting to be normal and for taking joy in the exhilaration of combat.
It was this clashing of images, the contradictory nature of how he acted, that had led Shirou to decide to be the one to deal with this. Godou was a surprisingly effective fighter, and with the likes of Erica backing him up he had no shortage of intelligent aid on his side. However he had no experience in dealing with the management of an organization such as the Committee, it was a task as foreign to him as the need to speak Russian. Thanks to Archer's memories Shirou at least had some idea of what to do, enough to give him a general idea. It wasn't much, but the difference between a little and nothing at all was technically pretty enormous.
Well, now he had a nation spanning organization answering to him, and quite honestly he wasn't too sure what he was going to do with them. Preparing the evacuation of Tokyo was a suitably monumental task for the time being, but after the situation with Odysseus was dealt with . . . then what?
Well, to be honest if the best case scenario came to pass then he'd have access back to his reality once more and would be able to leave. But if he did that then wouldn't he just be running away from his duties and obligations? And, of course, there was a good chance that it wouldn't be that easy. If so, then what would he have the Committee do? He already had them scouring every source they could lay their hands on for anything to do with otherworldly access and portals, what more was there for them to do for him? He didn't want to implement any sweeping changes in the History Compilation Committee, despite what a great many people seemed to think he didn't regard himself as qualified to make such decisions. Unfortunately if he didn't shake things up a bit then the faction supporting him, the one that had called for change, would end up feeling they had been betrayed, and the very conflict he'd accepted in order to prevent would flare up again.
Maybe . . . yes. The King of Steel felt a small smile touch his lips as an idea occurred to him. It was a rough one, more of a concept than a proper plan, but it had the right shape to it, he was sure.
Rather than restructuring the Committee he should enlarge it. The principle issue, as far as he could see, was that many in the lower ranks felt there wasn't any 'stretching room' in the organization. The majority of the power to be had was in the hands of the families that had founded the organization. Oh, there were a whole litany of other issues, but most of them were born from the simple fact that there seemed to be little room to grow, to attain rank on one's merits rather than blood connections. This was made even more complicated by the fact that in many cases the higher positions of the Head Family members was genuinely deserved. The Founding Families had spent years carefully accumulating knowledge, skills and useful bloodlines to ensure that each generation was competent to succeed the last. It had worked well, and Shirou was actually quite impressed with how well the families had avoided either corruption or stagnation. Unfortunately to those from below this steady competence could easily be mistaken for favouritism or nepotism, and lead to feelings of oppression or marginalization.
Hence his idea.
He couldn't restructure things, not to the level his supporters had wished anyway, not without possibly damaging the Committee, and certainly unseating several people that seemed to be perfectly competent at their jobs. No, instead he had to make more room for those who felt they were held back to spread into. It would hopefully relieve the pressure and give things a chance to even out and stabilize.
Of course, actually implementing the idea was going to be a bit more difficult, but he thought he could do it. The main thing holding back such an expansion before now was the limit of the resources that the Committee had access to. To be sure, the Committee had considerable wealth to back it up, and its members had all sorts of connections in the various walks of the government and powerful businesses. However, from what Shirou had learnt of the Committee, that wealth was tied up in maintaining many of their holdings and supports. Dozens of shrines, temples and the like, all of them were paid for and maintained by the Committee due to their mystical significance or the quality of the Hime-Miko that lived there. There were other costs as well, such as maintaining certain rituals and spells, payments to allies, the purchase of mystic items, all of this added up to a tremendous amount. With its wealth, the History Compilation Committee could maintain itself and meet these demands, but it left them with far less spare resources than one would expect of a nation spanning association like them.
Perhaps he could also see to extending the influence of the Committee abroad. As things stood the organization was mostly focused in Japan, with a few agents in the closer countries. Shirou's own holdings were mainly in Europe, but Yusuke's management of the Circle's former assets had spread so that he also owned a few minor businesses and properties in such locations as Russia, Mongolia and Pakistan. Other assets could be purchased, and agents from the Committee sent to take part in their management and development. If the Committee could be expanded in such a way then it would greatly aid in their efforts to track down information and artefacts as he had instructed them to. True, it would take considerable funds, but that was no issue.
Shirou now possessed considerable resources of his own, the least of which was a truly staggering amount of money that he had no idea what to do with. If he were to pump a substantial part of that back into the Committee, then surely the expansion he was envisioning could take place without too much issue.
His smile turning into a chuckle, and he leaned back, placing his hands behind him to take the weight as he stared out of the dojo's large windows. When had one of his chief ways of dealing with issues become to just throw money at them? Hell, for that matter when did he acquire enough money that it was even a viable option?
This world . . . it hadn't given him an easy ride, not by any stretch of the imagination, but it had provided some strange rewards. Being rich, that was something no other version of him had ever experienced. Archer might have sometimes stumbled into large sums of money when he sold off some of the spoils of his actions, or simply looted what he could, but while it had sometimes been lucrative he'd almost immediately spent it all on new equipment or as simple charity. Having a stable source of wealth, and one that seemed to be constantly growing thanks to Yusuke's expert handling, that was something new to him.
Well, if nothing else it seemed to make things a bit easier. This idea he had, it wasn't a total solution, but just knowing that he had some way of moving forwards was a huge weight off Shirou's shoulders. There was still a lot to do, but at least he could see some sort of path now, and that alone meant he didn't feel as trapped as he had a few minutes ago. Getting to his feet he gently stretched his limbs, then ambled to the centre of the dojo's floor.
"Trace, on."
Od surged through his magic circuits and prana crackled off his hands as the familiar white and black forms of his most commonly used Noble Phantasms formed in his hands. Outside the last of the daylight was beginning to fade, but he didn't reach to turn on the lights. Instead he allowed his body to assume the stance that came naturally to it as he began to go through a series of exercises designed with these weapons in mind. These were not the formal katas of some sort of school of martial arts; Archer had never bothered to come up with anything so formalized. His combat style had been a utilitarian and almost ugly thing, something forged not from study and training but rather from endless practical experience and repeated life and death battle. This, what Shirou was doing right now, was just a drill meant to loosen up muscles and get the body primed for a real fight.
The King of Steel didn't plan to enter battle though; all he wanted to do was enjoy pushing his muscles a bit. No Authority to enhance his speed and strength to the levels of a demigod. No prana shot through his veins and arteries to reinforce his physical attributes. This was just a simple workout to let him push himself a bit before he went in for his evening meal.
Perhaps today had been a good day.
-()-
The ship moved upon the waves of the ocean. Up and down, up and down. This might be the vessel of a legend, a ship that had sailed through seas of monsters and braved the fiercest tempests, but that didn't change the fact that when the sea rolled up then the boat had to go with it.
Circe wasn't paying this any attention. Oh, she was aware of it, but unlike the fragile digestive systems of mortals her form was totally unaffected by the movements of the ship in response to the ocean. Indeed, if anyone ignorant of the truth about her were to look in her direction then they would most likely have thought that she was in deep meditation, or something like that. Well, her eyes were closed, and her attention was turned away from the vessel upon which she rode.
This was not her true area of strength. She was Circe, goddess of the Dawn, Inheritor of the Sun, Mistress over Magic. She knew more about the forces of witchcraft and sorcery than mortals could comprehend over their entire life spans, she knew secrets that would leave their fragile minds burnt out, knowledge they would gladly trade their sons and daughters for. However what she sought now was not tied to the realm of magic, instead she sought out the nature of one of her fellow Heretic Gods, one who had already fallen in battle. Had she possessed the Authority of Wisdom wielded by the likes of Athena or other Mother Goddesses then it would have been far easier to find what she needed, then she could have simply drawn what she needed to know from the Void.
Instead she was forced to take a more circuitous route to knowledge she needed, crafting a spell that would seek out what she sought, then gently tease it out and pull it to her. In many ways what she was trying to do resembled a mortal going fishing with a fragile line and poor bait. Patience and care were the only ways that she was going to succeed in anything. She had 'caught' the knowledge that she needed; now she was just having to reel it in.
"Have you been able to learn what I sought yet?"
It took every iota of the goddess's considerable willpower and control not to lose the fragile hold she had on her target, even as she suppressed a shudder. That voice . . . even as it asked the seemingly careless question there was such hatred and poison in it that it was all she could do not to hurl herself from the ship and use her divine powers to flee as far as she could. So much hatred, and it wasn't even directed at her, at least not completely. It hated her, it hated the wood she sat upon, it hated the sea they sailed upon, it hated the air that surrounded them, it hated the sun that shone down on them. Quite simply, it hated everything with a venomous and black hatred that she, goddess though she might be, could barely comprehend.
Still, she was no cowering mortal. She would not be cowed by such a simple display of her . . . companion's nature. The sound of metal gently groaning echoed across the deck of the ancient ship as she carefully got to her feet. She was reeling in the knowledge she sought faster now, her efforts accelerating as she drew it closer. Though what she sought had no mass as crude matter would, the forces within the Void acted upon it in ways vaguely akin to such forces as momentum and inertia. Having started to draw it to her the act was growing easier as it came closer, her earlier efforts having imparted 'inertia' upon it so that it would continue to come towards her even if she ceased her efforts.
This meant that she could devote some of her attention to answering Ahriman.
"It comes to me, just a bit more time and I shall be able to answer you."
She was proud that her voice didn't waver, an absurd thing for a deity to take pride in, but there it was. Being sure to keep her gaze as firm as she had her voice the goddess of the dawn looked over to where the incarnation of evil casually stood.
Ahriman continued to wear the form he had taken when he had first joined them, that of a young boy in simplistic robes. The only thing that gave away his nature were those light consuming black eyes that even now were turned towards her. Currently he sat upon the upper deck of the ship looking down at her, his posture far too relaxed to be believable. He couldn't be so relaxed; she doubted his nature would allow it. Instead she focused upon the way he had continued to watch her, never blinking, never moving.
When they descended to the realm of the mortals the gods took on mortal form. This was flexible of course, some gods chose to take on more monstrous forms, such as dragons or lions, sometimes they effected such changes as animal features or even animal heads, but always they were tied to the mortals that worshiped them. Yet even in those forms the characteristics of mortals remained to them, emotion, ambition, even fear, all of them were as much a part of them as their new bodies. Circe was well acquainted with that, after all it had been her hunger to find a new love that had led her to be a part of this endeavour of Odysseus' in the first place. Now it was her fear that kept her from leaving.
Ahriman though, there was something about him, or perhaps calling him 'it' would be more accurate since the body she was looking at was just a shell that could be easily exchanged or altered, that was alien in a way she couldn't grasp. She knew that he had more emotions than just hate; he would not be here otherwise. But even his greed, or fear, were coloured by the hatred he seemed to bear everything. It was beyond anything a mortal could have experienced or sustained. Their poor flesh would have burnt out within hours of trying to sustain such an intensity of emotions. Idly Circe wondered how such a god as this could have come into being in the first place, what manner of human torture or brutality could have created enough faith in hatred to have given rise to something like him?
"Haste would be your ally in this matter. I require the wisdom you seek before I can begin my hunt for this thief. It would hardly do to court failure before I had even begun, would you not agree, daughter of the sun?"
Not a word was insulting or threatening in and of itself, yet every syllable that he uttered sounded like the vilest bile mixed with the most hateful of threats. Icy spiders ran up and down her spine once more, and she felt her fists, metal though they were, itch with the desire to destroy this . . . this thing that scared her so. Instead of giving in to her base emotions she willed her brass hands to relax, then delivered her reply as coolly as she could manage. She refused to allow the dark god to see how much he could rattle her; she refused to allow him that much power over her.
"What you asked me to learn is not knowledge that is casually claimed! Haste is the enemy in this endeavour; it only serves to make it more likely that I will have to start again! If this is so valuable to your plans then it will be worth the wait once I have claimed it!"
Each exclamation was bitten out, her fear retreating in the face of her growing anger. For days now she had been having to deal with the threat of Ahriman's displeasure looming over her like a cliff waiting to collapse, she was beginning to lose the hold she had been maintaining upon her temper. Most of it had been simple self preservation, since she knew that she was no match for the god of evils if they were to come into conflict, but also it had been to avoid provoking Odysseus. Since securing Ahriman's alliance the hero god seemed to have calmed somewhat, but there was still an aura of brittle but sharp edges to him. As though even brushing against him the wrong way could leave you cut and bleeding.
It was all becoming too much; her control was beginning to fray at the edges.
No! No, she had come this far, she just needed to maintain her composure for a bit longer. This plan of Odysseus', it could still work! Ahriman might be malignant beyond all reason or belief, but he kept his word, such was his nature as a deity. All she had to do was stay the course for a bit longer, until he aided the hero god in retrieving what he sought from the eighth Campione. Once that was done then they could leave, go to other worlds. Ahriman could unleash his hatred upon this world if he so wished, other heroes would rise up against him. As for her, she would seek out a new love in the different worlds, a hero who had a legend completely different from any she had ever seen before. Yes, all she had to do was hold onto that knowledge, that goal. It would see her through.
Even as she thought that she felt the knowledge she had been seeking slide into her mind as the spell she had been using finally completed its task. She didn't even try to hide the smile that bloomed on her face as she reviewed what it had provided her with.
"Ah, has the answer you sought finally arrived?"
Odysseus spoke from just behind her, standing beside the ships railing. Somewhat strangely he had a fishing rod in his hands, the line running out into the dark waves that surrounded the vessel. Truly she didn't understand why he was doing it, he didn't suffer from hunger as a mortal would after all, but even so he had chosen to try and catch a fish while she was working her spell. Perhaps it was done purely for the entertainment of it, she didn't know, nor did she really care. What was important was the answer to his question.
"The knowledge we sought is now mine," she confirmed, allowing her smile to grow a tiny bit self satisfied. "The first God that the Campione we seek slew was called Perseus, a hero god of Steel."
"That much is already known to us," The Traveller God said, stepping around her so they were face to face. "Was what we suspected true? What was his original identity?"
"Once he was Marduk, but he was also once called Mithra," she confirmed, "Once he was the foe of our most revered ally, and once he smote him down with but the sight of his strength."
Even though it was a fool's business to needle the evil god Circe still took a vindictive pleasure in seeing how her words had disturbed the childish form of Ahriman. Just the mention of his ancient enemy was enough to cause him to stir in place, shifting his weight as though preparing for either fight or flight. It was a small thing, but she would take what victories she could from this entire mess.
"So his name is revealed. Now, can you tell us which Authority the boy king was able to usurp from him?"
That was the question she had been working so tirelessly to find an answer to. Mithra and Ahriman were enemies, but the relationship between them was in no way equal. Mithra was destined to defeat Ahriman, that was the nature of their clash. Ahriman might be able to devastate the world, slay entire nations by drowning them in blood and horror, but in the face of Mithra that strength would fail, his curses would weaken, and his might would fade. There were many words for it in the cultures of the world, geass, wyrd, fate, legend, whatever you might wish to call it it added up to the same thing. Mithra was not a foe that Ahriman could stand against.
Odysseus had some idea as to the origin of the Authorities that his foe had wielded against him. He had been able to recognize the curses that belonged to the source of all the worlds' evils when they had been inflicted upon him. He had also recognized the trace of Mithra in the young man's power. In many ways he and Mithra had been much alike, both of them were deities that had travelled far from their homelands, giving up their original names and taking on new identities as they did so. Both of them had ended their journeys in the lands of the Greeks. And both of them had gained new names there, not as gods but rather as heroes.
What was important though, was whether or not the power that the King of Steel had taken from Perseus was the same power that would have allowed Mithra to inevitably triumph over his arch foe. Authorities were multi-faceted things, powers tied into different aspects of the god from which they originated. A power to call down lightning might be tied to a legend of that god slaying an evil tree, while another power, one based on the god's strength, would be tied to a legend of him holding back a flood. In these cases it would mean that the lightning power would possess properties that made it an ideal foe to face a god of the forest, while the Authority of Strength would prove difficult for a water based god to overcome. The crucial detail was that it would be impossible to exchange those aspects; it couldn't be done to ensure the strength would be strong against trees or the like.
"You have no need to fear the young God Slayer," Circe stated, "The Authority that he gained by vanquishing your enemy is in no way tied to you. In his days in my homeland, your foe defeated a great dragon and took a former goddess as a wife and priestess. The Authorities that the young King gained are tied to that role, and are intended to defeat dragons. So long as you make no use of powers that grant you draconic traits you have little to fear from him."
There was a certain savage glee to Ahriman's stance now, an eagerness to act now that he knew there would be no hidden blades he needed to fear.
"And what of my other question? Can you tell me how he came to wield the power of all of mankind's curses?"
Any pleasure or smugness that the goddess might have been feeling disappeared like morning dew under the burning sun. As irrational as it had been she been hoping that he would forget about his other question in the joy of learning he was safe from defeat. Foolish and irrational, but that had been it, rationality wasn't as great part of her nature as if she had been mortal, and so some part of her had hoped that if she didn't think about it then he wouldn't either. Ridiculous, 'forget in the joy of the moment' what had she been thinking? She doubted Ahriman was even capable of joy, at least not in the way others were. As for him forgetting something like that . . . such would require mercy, and she doubted a single drop of it existed within him.
"No, my spells could find nothing that we didn't already know. This King of Steel slew a god, and from that god he gained the curses that should have been yours. I can find nothing within the Void that hinted at the god's name or origin, all I could learn was that all the evils and curses of mortal kind are still yours."
It had been frustrating in a way. She'd thought that learning the identity of the god from whom the newest Campione had usurped his first Authority from would have been the easier task, so she had set herself upon it first. Instead the Void had offered no answer that was of any help, instead it had only served to waste her time and confuse her.
"That simply means that there is another thief that needs to be dealt with." Ahriman's voice came out in a voice that was almost sweet, but there was no disguising the venom there. "If they have been able to hide their identities even in the Void then it means that they have gone to great efforts to keep themselves concealed."
His smile grew almost . . . happy, or at least something that might be called happy on another. There was no joy there, as she had thought there was nothing like that in him. Instead it was something more akin to hungry anticipation. Yes, that was it. He had another target for his hatred, and he was savouring it as a mortal might savour the knowledge of an impending meal. He wanted it, she realized, he was happy that someone had transgressed against him because it let him have another target for his hatred.
The insight came to her in that moment, not from the Void, but from her own deduction. His hatred was all consuming, it was all he knew, all he had, but it was a diffuse thing, something that covered everything that existed. To have a target, to have someone upon which to focus, that lent sharpness and definition to his hatred. It let him concentrate it, savour it, take savage pleasure in it.
"I shall need to learn more, so perhaps I can find some other that can search the Void for me. Perhaps a coalition of gifted mortals and Earth Mothers will be able to break whatever power this other thief is using to hide. I am certain I can provide them with the motivation to give forth their best efforts."
Circe once again had to struggle to repress a shudder. In her mind she already knew that were she not protected by the agreement between them then she would already have earned a place in that little gathering, at least as far as Ahriman was concerned. She could only imagine what kinds of nightmares he had planned as 'motivation', and she knew that her own imaginings would not be able to do the truth justice.
"That can wait until after our own affair is dealt with," Odysseus broke in, his voice as fearless as it had always been. "Once I have my freedom and we have left then you are free to do as you wish. Gather every Mother Goddess in the world and use them as playthings or wives, I do not care! For now, let us focus on the battle to come."
Ahriman moved. No, that wasn't the correct way to say it, since that implied the existence of motion. Instead one moment his small robed body had been sitting where it had been, in the next he was standing beside the Traveller God, no intermediate steps seeming to have existed.
"So cruel for a hero, Odysseus. Once you would have risen up to stand against me had you heard word of my intentions. Now . . . now you cast aside those that will be my entertainment without even a second thought."
His lips twitched into a smile, and Circe felt her blood run cold at the sight of it.
"Such change has been wrought upon you, are you certain that you wish to once more find what has twisted you so?"
"Yes!" There was no hint of hesitation in Odysseus' voice as he answered. "I saw what was out there, how small we are, how little we understand. Do you think that you and your cruelty mean anything? I saw entire worlds locked in eternal screams as they tumbled through the void. I saw whole races savaging each other with wild abandon in battles that had no end to them. What happens here, whatever you or anyone else chooses to do to this world . . . it means NOTHING!"
The final word was spoken with a horrifying sort of finality, as thought here was nothing in the world that could be said to change or disprove it. And in that moment Circe finally began to understand the true magnitude to which her one time lover had been warped.
"I spoke wrongly," Ahriman no longer sounded malicious, at least not so much in comparison to before. Instead his tone was almost pleased, like one that had seen some fine piece of art and was taking the time to savour it. "You are not twisted, my dear ally. You are broken, broken so completely that you seek out what broke you before as a slave that has come to love the torture might seek out the one that wields the whip."
"Say what you will," Odysseus replied, his voice and posture both conveying his dismissal of what his ally had just said. "I am not broken; I have merely seen the truth. Feel free to drown in your delusions if you so choose, but do not attempt to push them onto me."
"Perhaps, but I am aware of my madness. I even choose to take some pleasure in it. Tell me, who is the greater fool; the fool that admits his madness, or the fool that denies it?"
Circe watched the exchange between the two, and was once again reminded that for all her own carelessness with rationality she was still by far the sanest being aboard this ship. Again she reminded herself that this was only until the alliance was complete, only until Odysseus had taken her to a new world. Once that was done she would abandon him to enjoy his 'endless freedom' while she would be content with searching the new world for a hero worthy of her love. It was a simple plan, and all she had to do was hold herself together until it was completed. Surely she could do that.
A sudden thought struck her, and in that instant she felt her blood turn to ice in her veins. Yes, she could hold out until matters were complete, she could escape with Odysseus . . .
Escape with him through this power that he had seen upon the island . . .
The same power that had driven him mad.
Inside her mind she could almost hear a click as the jaws of the trap finally closed on her. No, that wasn't quite right. The trap had closed on her weeks ago; it was just that it was only now that she was realizing it. She was caught, utterly and completely. On the one side if she went with Odysseus then she would need to travel through the very force that had driven him mad, she would apparently need to forfeit her sanity in order to use it. On the other hand, if she remained then once the pact ended she could look forward to Ahriman hunting her down to have a special place in his future plans.
Madness versus torment, those were her choices.
Even though she was doing her best to keep herself as unchanging as stone something must have slipped her by. Maybe it had been a widening of the eyes, a tremble of the shoulders, a paling of her skin; she had no way of knowing. What she did know was that for just an instant there was something, and in the next instant Ahriman leaned forward. His movement was small, but it was sudden enough to draw her eye, and as she did so she found herself meeting that unfathomably black gaze. They remained like that for a bare second, her eyes staring into the black oblivion of his, then she broke the stare. But not before she saw one thing.
His smile.
And as she saw it she knew, she just knew with absolute certainty, that he knew how she was trapped. Perhaps he had known of the trap closing on her since they first met in his cave. Regardless he knew that she was trapped between the fire and the wolves, left with no choices but the fangs or the flames, and he was relishing her helplessness.
"Enough of this! We have the knowledge we need, now let us make our way to the lands of our target. You can claim your curses and I shall take my freedom. Once we are done we can each go our separate ways, and never have to contend with each other ever again!"
Odysseus' loud declaration broke her out of the horrified spiral her thoughts had been descending into. They were leaving? So soon? She had thought that he would take some more time to bolster their forces, maybe seek to improve his strength, maybe even seek to heal her wounds so that she would be a greater aid to them. Instead he was simply calling for them to leave now? Granted, it would still take them some time to reach the lands in the Far East where the King of Steel made his home, but even so . . .
She needed more time! That was the truth of it. She needed time to try to work out a way to escape the trap she found herself in. Time to find something, anything!
Instead events continued to collapse in around her, burying her under their weight.
As she turned away, she was sure that Ahriman continued to smile.
-()-
Around the world more and more mortals touched with the gift of prophecy found themselves struck by potent premonitions. They were powerful, but vague, uncertain. Still, the fact that so many were having similar precognitions was a fact quickly noticed by many of the magical associations. The similarities were compared and shared, and soon a general picture began to form. Nothing was certain yet, as too much remained unclear, but one thing was common to each of the prophecies.
Darkness was coming.
