The chapter of November... on December 5th... Gosh dang it to heck.

Again, apologies. Though the writing of this chapter's first draft went faster than the last, it also required a lot of revision after it came out incredibly short. Then it was far too long and had to be cut down and then real life hit Draconic and... yeah.

Beta-ed by Draconic


Sieg glanced about the hazy cavern, his scarlet eyes wide with terror. "Where… Where am I?"

He'd only just laid down to sleep for the night, comfortable in the bed Serge had provided for him, warmed by the thought that he was, at last, truly free. Part of him could scarcely believe that his fate was now his own, that he even had a fate to begin with; a purpose greater than to be used up as a disposable battery. Once the Blue Faction moved on to Bucharest in the morning, his brief but frightening role in the Great Holy Grail War would come to an end.

And yet, part of him couldn't help but find that conclusion… unsatisfying.

He was thrilled to no longer have to fear Yggdmillennia, but the people he had met over the course of his short adventure were nothing short of incredible.

The Paladin of Charlemagne who'd saved him, granting the wish of a manufactured being who hadn't even completely understood what he'd asked.

The Hero of the Nibelungenlied, who'd been willing to give up everything to save a mindless soul.

The Maid of Orleans, who shielded him from the war and ensured his freedom.

And the Blue Faction.

Most specifically, Mr. Emiya; Shirou.

As much as Sieg wanted to start a new life, whatever that would be, or if he could even figure out what he wanted it to be, all the most incredible things he had encountered, the closest examples of 'good' that he had, had stemmed from that conflict. Without it, he really had no frame of reference of how to behave in 'normal' life.

Of course, none of that explained why he was standing in the middle of a massive, smoke-filled cavern, jagged black rock surrounding him on all sides. Ahead of him, a sword, far too large for him to lift, was struck upright in the floor. As far as he was aware, falling asleep did not lead to sudden appearances in mysterious caves.

Wait… could this have been what people called a 'dream?'

He wiped the sweat beading from his brow before it could drip into his eyes. And therein lay the first hole in his initial conclusion: The cave was absolutely sweltering, and though he knew very little, he somehow felt certain that one wouldn't feel temperature in a dream. The second and greater strike against the dream theory was that he was completely lucid. And that was something he knew about. Certain mages practiced for years to achieve lucid dreaming. It was highly unlikely that he would do it with no experience whatsoever.

So, this wasn't a dream. Was it?

He just didn't know.

His gaze wandered to the only other thing in the cave, the greatsword embedded in the ground, already half his height, even with most of its length buried in the earth. The black wall behind it seemed somewhat different from the rest of the cavern, its darkness almost sleeker. A flickering light danced upon it, producing the illusion of movement.

But all his eyes could see was the sword. His mind screamed that he'd seen it before, but he just couldn't recall where. It was said that one's cognizance was often impaired in dreams, so that was one point for that possibility.

So was it a dream, or wasn't it? He wished he knew.

Before he realized what he was doing, his hand was already reaching for the blade. He blinked, and his fingers were suddenly wrapped around the hilt. For a moment, nothing seemed to happen. Then…

"Well, this is most unusual."

Sieg whipped around, his hand frozen on the sword hilt and his eyes wide with shock. He knew that voice, soft yet solemn. But how could he be here?

Saber of Black, Sir Siegfried, stood before him, the noble knight's head cocked to the side in confusion.

Despite that, the dragonslayer smiled. "Hello little one."

"Hello, Sir Siegfried," Sieg replied. He tried to turn fully towards the man who had given him a heart, show him the respect he'd more than earned, but he found he could not remove his hand from the blade he'd grasped. Strangely, this didn't worry him as much as his logical mind told him it should. His Black Command Seals gave off a soft light blue glow.

"Balmung," Siegfried noted. He looked past Sieg, his steely eyes narrowing. "I see we're back here."

"Back where?" Sieg asked fretfully. "I've never seen this place before. Have you?"

"It is a place from my memory, a pivotal chapter in my life," the knight explained. "As for why either of us is here, I cannot say for certain. Though it undoubtedly has to do with the heart that beats within both our chests."

"I… suppose so," Sieg answered. Though he was as uncertain of that as anything else, he trusted Siegfried. He glanced back at his Black Seals. "Mr. Emiy—Shirou mentioned encountering a Heroic Spirit he was linked to in his dreams, though he said that one has not been summoned to this war. Perhaps this is something similar?"

"That is certainly possible. If Shirou Emiya communed with a Heroic Spirit in some plane between this realm and the Throne of Heroes, it likely that my presence connected us, instead of allowing you to speak with the Siegfried in Akasha. By entering this place, you summoned my mind here."

"Oh," Sieg said. "I'm sorry. I hope I didn't pull you away from anything important."

Siegfried reassured him with a kind smile. "Do not concern yourself over such details, little one. Since the events in the forest, I have been confined to a cell in the citadel's dungeons, along with Rider. The most you did was remove me from the range of his singing."

Sieg cringed. "Was he… really that bad?"

"Oh, not at all," Siegfried assured him. "Nobles of his time often had training in the arts and while I wouldn't say he is a natural talent, he is far from unskilled. He has taken to the modern songs the Grail implanted in his mind with extreme gusto. Rider is a man of many talents. More than any of us were expecting to be truly honest."

"Huh." That was surprising. As much as Sieg admired Rider of Black for saving him, he never would have pegged the paladin as musically gifted.

Of course, then the rest of Saber's words registered with the young homunculus. He looked away from the knight in shame. "I'm sorry you two have gotten into so much trouble on my account."

Siegfried stepped forward and placed a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder. "You have nothing to apologize for. Rider and I both made our decisions of our own volition. We knew the consequences."

"But you still wouldn't have had to suffer them if it weren't for me," Sieg noted.

"It is a price well worth paying. Rider and I both believe so."

Sieg gathered what courage he could and looked the knight in the eye, a vivid blue as clear as a cloudless sky. The homunculus couldn't help but note the distinct contrast with his own red irises. It was barely the tip of the iceberg when it came to differences between them. His benefactor was a mythical knight, a hero of the highest order. A man who was willing to give his life for anyone who needed saving. Meanwhile, he didn't even have the first clue what to do with his life.

"If I may ask, how do you fare?"

The young homunculus' mind froze as soon as the question left Siegfried's mouth. "Wha—What do you mean?"

"Rider was worried about you after your departure," Siegfried explained. "And truthfully, I am quite curious to know how things are going for you myself. Where are you now? Who are you with? And what are your plans moving forward?"

"Um… well, a kind elderly man named Serge agreed to shelter our group for the night. And me for the long term. Ruler left earlier in the evening to speak with the Red Faction," Sieg began hesitantly. "The Blue Faction plans to head out come morning, though with any luck I'll be able to speak with Shirou before he leaves. I'd hoped to speak with him some more about cooking."

"Shirou… he is the mage with the Reality Marble, correct?" At Sieg's nod, Siegfried grinned. "And he is a cook. Perhaps this will put Rider's mind at ease."

Sieg cocked an eyebrow. "What?"

"Oh, Rider was concerned you would attempt to emulate Shirou."

"Really?" Sieg frowned. "He expressed concern about that as well. For some reason, he advised me not to look up to him. He wants me to find my own path."

"Then he is as wise as I thought. Rider will be pleased." Siegfried said.

"Yes," Sieg concurred. "But, I'm not sure how to find my own path. I know I'm supposed to find out what I like and don't like, but… beyond that…"

"There does not need to be anything beyond that," Siegfried advised. "There are those who choose to strive for some great ambition and there are those who simply choose to enjoy life as it comes to them. Neither is wrong. What matters is that you choose. Take it from me: I spent my entire life letting others decide for me, and though it was a good life, it was a life incomplete."

"What I enjoy…" Shirou had said the same thing.

Sieg hadn't tried to do very much in his short existence. And with how vast he knew the world to be, there were sure to be more activities than he could ever hope to experience, even with his extended lifespan. Already he had gained an appreciation for cooking and he hoped to have the opportunity to try out all the recipes that Shirou had left him. Despite all his confusion, there was a flutter in his heart, and eagerness to go forward and find… whatever it was that he'd find. He may not have known what choice he should make yet, but he was excited to make it.

But… there was something holding him back. Memories of his time at Millenia Citadel. And more importantly, the knowledge that scores, perhaps hundreds of homunculi just like him, his kin, or the closest he had to kin, were still experiencing those same trials. Pawns in a war they were made to fight for, to die for, either thrown against Servants as cannon fodder or drained dry as batteries.

"I have to return to Millenia Citadel," he declared.

Siegfried raised an eyebrow. "That… may not be a wise decision. Lady Celenike would be quite… aggravated if you returned."

"That doesn't matter," Sieg's eyes hardened with resolve. "The other homunculi, they're going through the same things I did. That I would be going through if I hadn't been exceptionally lucky. Perhaps there is no shame in moving forward despite their suffering, perhaps I don't owe them anything. But if they're just like me, then they deserve the same chance to choose their fates for themselves."

Siegfried tilted his head to the side. "So you are saying you cannot move forward until they are free?"

"No. I'm saying I refuse to."

The dragonslayer smiled at the young boy. "Very well. So long as it is your choice, it is a worthy one. Though I warn you, if you rejoin the war of your own volition, Ruler will not be able to protect you. I myself may have to take action against you with all my strength, and even if I did not, the Yggdmilliennia's power is not insignificant. If you seek your goal as you are, helpless and without allies, you will fail."

Sieg scowled. His savior spoke the truth. He hadn't even been able to defeat Gordes as he was, and even if his constitution had improved, he was hardly a match for a Servant, let alone six of them. If he was going to free his fellows, he needed more than just bluster.

He could ask the Blue Faction for help. Once the ceasefire was over, he suspected Lady Tohsaka would be eager for the chance to weaken the Black Faction before their inevitable clash with the Red Faction. With their help, he had no doubt he'd be able to get into the castle to help his kin.

But that wasn't enough. He couldn't keep relying on others to save him. He needed something that would let him stand on an even playing field with the other forces at play, he needed some way to increase his strength… he needed…

He needed power.

His eyes darted to his Black Command Seals, the hand they resided on still glued to the sword.

Shirou had mentioned they were powerful. Dead Count Shapeshifter Seals. He didn't know how they worked, but if they could give him strength…

"These seals… they require some sort of aria," Sieg said thoughtfully. He glanced back to his savior. "Do you have any idea what it could be?"

Siegfried shrugged. "They are still Command Seals, are they not? Perhaps you merely need to give an order."

"An order to do what? I don't have a Servant, and I don't know what they're supposed to do otherwise."

The dragonslayer frowned, his brow furrowed in thought. His eyes flickered behind Sieg, his gentle gaze suddenly ice cold.

"What's wrong?" the homunculus inquired. He followed the hero's eyes to the strange black wall and his heart stopped.

He had been mistaken. There was no wall behind him. The wall behind the sword, the one whose movement he'd attributed to the apparent firelight, had actually been moving. And he knew this because it had risen up several meters and opened a pair of massive obsidian eyes. An enormous jaw cracked open beneath its gaze, a bright, wicked flame stoking like the heartbeat of a fireplace. Even if he was only a few days old, Sieg could never imagine anyone mistaking the beast before him for anything but a dragon.

"This place is my memory," Siegfried narrated, his voice steady and commanding, like a general on the march. "It was here that I faced the evil dragon Fafnir. It was here where I pushed myself beyond what should have been possible and passed into legend. It was here that I became a hero."

"Then why is it here now?" Sieg panicked, his legs trembling beneath him yet unable to free himself from the embedded blade and flee. "If this is the memory of you killing it, why is it alive? Why do I have your sword?"

"Because killing Fafnir was only half the battle," Siegfried declared. "Facing him, the pinnacle of phantasmal beasts, a creature that a mere human should have had absolutely no chance of even wounding, let alone slaying; that is what earned me my power, my legend. And now, if you so choose, it may give you something of the same."

"Something of the same? What?"

"If you are to charge into the Great Holy Grail War, you will face things far more terrifying than a memory. This is your final chance to turn back, to choose safety. You have not declared that you will flee, nor have you stated that you will fight this beast."

Sieg shivered despite the cavern's growing heat, Fafnir's flame growing with each passing second. "What do you mean?"

"You want to give an order? Give it to yourself. You are both general and soldier. You are the only one who can determine your path, one way or another. What is your true wish?"

"I don't know!"

His confession rang across the cave like the toll of a funeral bell. Fafnir rose from his prone form and let out an ungodly bellow, an inferno erupting from his throat.

It didn't matter.

Sieg was confused. His identity, his hopes, whatever dream he might have had was murky and unclear. But the dragons would come whether or not he knew who he was or wanted to be. They would come, and they would burn everything around him.

So even if he lacked the power to slay them, he would show them steel nonetheless.

He added his opposite hand to the sword hilt and pulled, feeling every ounce of the blade's immense weight as it rose out of its earthen prison; a weight he couldn't possibly lift. And yet it obeyed his will. The entire length of the blade emerged from the ground as the dragon before him stood up and bellowed a challenge. And beneath Fafnir's roar, an aria flashed through Sieg's mind.

"I order this body…!"

Siegfried smiled.


FATEFATEFATEFATE

Saber and Shirou had both woken up at about the same time, just before sunrise. While he packed their few belongings, she took on the ever-difficult task of waking Rin up, both of them taking care not to wake Sieg or their host. After getting pawed a few times, she finally got Rin to open her eyes and realize just who she was blindly swinging her arm at. There was little else to be said of that though. Nothing that Rin would want her to give any undue attention to, at least. They left the house quietly, shutting the door behind them with a soft click.

She looked at the grim expression on Shirou's face and immediately knew what he was thinking. Off on the other side of the country, beyond the Wallachian hills, Assassin of Black was no doubt going into hiding for the day after a busy, bloody night. But it wouldn't have another. The foul Servant would be receiving an unwelcome surprise come sunset.

They didn't speak very much on the way to Bucharest. The silence was peaceful one, and Saber found herself trying to avoid pushing the engine, keeping it steady at a low rumble. Shirou opted to ride behind her while Rin chose to nap in the sidecar, though it seemed that she was at least paying attention to their surroundings; she opened her eyes periodically to have a look around in the pale early-morning light.

Having gotten an early start, they made good time, reaching Brașov just as the sun began to creep over the Carpathians. They watched the city as it woke up, lighted windows going dark as the morning sun made them unnecessary. The road began to see more cars, the sounds of the city waking Rin, and Saber decided that there was no longer any sense in trying to preserve the peaceful atmosphere. They were all awake, and the workday had started for most people, so she picked up speed, letting her steed roar. They still had a ways to go before reaching their destination.

Overall, it was a long four hours.

As the city came into view, Saber gradually let her motorcycle decelerate, letting the vehicle coast into Bucharest. She looked up to find the sun hadn't yet reached its highest point in the sky.

Assassin hadn't a prayer. It would never escape this city. Bucharest would be its tomb. They had a whole day to prepare.

They should have had a whole day to prepare.

Saber went rigid.

"Damn it all!" she cursed herself for noticing too late. She had no time to change direction, and no streets to turn onto. All she could do was race by the café where sat a bearded man in sunglasses, a sister, and a blonde girl in a red jacket and a white tube-top.


FATEFATEFATEFATE

'Saber…'

"No."

'Saber…'

"I refuse to suffer this. It's an insult to my honor as a knight."

'No one's saying you wouldn't be able to handle this on your own. But if she's here, we might as well put her to use.'

"I don't need some whiny bowman who only knows how to attack an enemy too far away to fight back looking out for me. I will find the enemy and destroy them myself, up close and in person. When I cut them down, I'll be looking them in the eye, as befits a knight."

'Right. And you're sure this doesn't have anything to do with her not letting you touch her ears?'

"…"

'Saber?'

"They're fluffy, and I wanted to pet them," she grumbled sullenly. She abruptly raised her head and shouted, "I pet lots of cats, what makes her so different?!"

"As fascinating as it is listening to only one side of a conversation," Archer of Red growled, "I can't help but wonder if you don't realize the simple fact that telepathy is a useless method of communication if you exclude the rest of your allies."

Something feral glinted in her eye.

"And, surprisingly enough, I am not your pet kitten. And before you so much as consider trying that again, I assure you that I don't need to cooperate with you."

Kairi sighed, Mordred's perpetual, impudent glare, though aimed at the other Servant, was already giving him another headache. Between the unsettling dreams he'd been having of his Saber's past and her less than stellar rapport with their reinforcements, these headaches were becoming a more common occurrence than the mercenary was comfortable with. Honestly, if he'd known that telling the priest about Emiya's history would lead to this, he would have kept his damn trap shut. All it took was Saber trying to pet the woman's lion ears once and the two had declared passive aggressive war on each other.

Well, mostly just aggressive on Mordred's part.

Still, it wasn't as if the backup wasn't appreciated. Even putting aside the town's close proximity to the Yggdmillennia's base at Trifas and the unknown movements of the third faction—Periwinkle, according to Assassin—she'd cut her Master off mid-sentence just to tell him what they were called before he did… crazy witch—whatever they were dealing with was undoubtedly dangerous. Before the arrival of the Association's forces, the killer's only targets had been thugs and gang members, but afterwards, experienced Enforcers began dropping like flies, chopped into bits with their hearts gouged out. They were dealing with a soul eater, beyond a shadow of a doubt, and given the war, it was more than likely a Servant. And while he had complete faith in Mordred's abilities, having Archer with them simply gave them more options. And more options meant there were more ways for them to not die to some sudden reversal of fortune, such as an unusual Noble Phantasm.

Not that the Knight of Treachery cared too much. It seemed as though the only thing she could be bothered to concern herself with was that all the stray cats she'd wanted to play with had been flocking to the Servant of the Bow since her arrival, and it was pissing her off!

Archer would have remained in spirit form, but without a Master-Servant link, she would be unable to participate in any discussions between the other two people she was trying to assist. Not that she couldn't talk while astralized, it was just that doing so would draw as much attention to the people she was with as going for a walk in her usual attire would have. Of course, being physically present wouldn't have been an issue with most Heroic Spirits, but most of them didn't have lion ears sticking out of their hair, to say nothing of her tail. That could not be shown in public under any circumstances.

However, Kairi had barely shoveled out the money for Mordred's wardrobe, he certainly wasn't going to do it for someone else's Servant. Fortunately, Shirou Kotomine had foreseen such a complication and gifted her an outfit. Unfortunately, a man of the church hadn't had much in the way of feminine clothing.

Thus, the trio of two street toughs and a nun came to sit outside a humble but pleasant café, the soft Romanian sunlight not quite reaching them where they sat in the shade of a table umbrella.

A small empty breakfast plate stared up at Kairi, and a notably larger one sat in front of Mordred, still piled high with sausages, though that pile was shrinking quickly. The necromancer had been against paying for the massive meal, but food was one of the few matters he couldn't reach much of a compromise on with his Servant. He could talk her down to the less pricy menu items, but she still demanded a mountain to devour. The first time, he'd been sure her eyes would prove to have been bigger than her stomach. He was painfully disabused of this notion after ten minutes and steadily disappearing orders of cold cuts and cucumbers. The girl could pack it away like a monster. There had been a mountain of pastrami and feta cheese when her orders got to the table and not only had she turned it into a molehill, she was swiftly annihilating the remains.

Archer on the other hand had declined to let him purchase anything for her, citing the known fact that Heroic Spirits did not actually need to eat. Nevertheless, she had pulled out a paper bag containing a delicious looking loaf of bread and a bright red apple, the latter eliciting an actual smile, to both Saber's surprise and that of her Master.

Mordred glared at their ally. "It's none of your business, Archer."

"You were scowling at me the entire time."

"Well, maybe I just don't like your face!"

Archer sighed. "What are you? A child?" she snatched up her apple and took a large bite out of the fruit, wiping a trickle of juice away with her sleeve.

Mordred snarled. "I am a knight for your information, you stuck up, self-important coward, so you can shove your condescending attitude up your—"

"Young lady! Do not speak to a sister like that!"

All three Red Faction members turned to find their waitress scowling at Mordred. The Knight of Treachery's ire shifted to the woman, but it stalled somewhat when she caught sight of her dessert. Well, in retrospect, she had ordered eight slices of cheesecake, so seeing the whole cake from behind the counter being brought to the table shouldn't have been that surprising. In addition to still firmly upholding her vow of chivalry and respecting civilians, the child of King Arthur was also not particularly keen on offending the people who were bringing her food.

"But… but, she's not really a—" she stammered helplessly.

"It's no trouble, I assure you," Archer interjected. Her sharp eyes were not unkind to the young woman, but there was little patience for the disruption of their meeting. "This is a simple case of miscommunication. Nothing serious, I assure you."

"Oh," the waitress replied. The woman cringed instantly, embarrassment covering her cheeks. "I am so sorry. I mean, you're eating together, so of course you know each other. It really wasn't my place—"

"You meant no harm," Archer cut her off, her words just a bit colder. "You have no need to apologize. But if you wouldn't mind, this is a private discussion. My apologies, but please, leave us."

"Right, sorry," the waitress set down the cake, Mordred's eyes lighting up as soon as it hit the table. The woman's focus remained on Archer however. "It's just… the church has helped my family so much. My son wouldn't even be able to go to school if they hadn't helped us—"

"Your… son?" Archer interrupted, her hunter's eyes softening a great deal.

The waitress brightened up. "Yes, my Eduard just turned nine and… and I'm still here. I'm so sorry, ma'am. You said not to bother you and—"

"N-No, it's fine," Archer assured her. She returned her loaf of bread to her paper bag and handed it to the woman. "Here. For your son."

"What? Miss, I can't accept—"

"Please. I insist."

The waitress stammered for a moment, but accepted the gift after some urging. She turned to Kairi. "Is everything else okay for now, sir?"

"Yeah, we're fine here," he assured her, then added, "…and we'll take the check."

The waitress nodded and bustled back inside.

Kairi sighed at Archer, who smiled at the departing woman. "That was a pretty marked change in attitude. What happened?"

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with," she responded evasively.

"I'm not tipping her. We're short enough on funds as it is."

The cat-woman scowled at him, shifting her habit into better alignment as one of her ears began to twitch. "That is your decision to make. But you really should help her provide for her child."

"Should. But won't."

He empathized with any single parent; he'd been one himself after all. But he only had so much cash. And with Mordred's appetite, he'd need all the funds he could scrounge together. "If you hadn't noticed, I'm kind of providing for a kid of my own night now."

"Hmm?" Mordred grunted, an entire slice of cake balanced precariously on a fork and being stuffed into her mouth in a goofy demonstration of chipmunk-like cheek flexibility. "You say something?"

"Nothing important."

Mordred shrugged, turning back to Archer.

"Where'd you get that bread anyway?" Mordred asked, changing the subject through a mouthful of pastry. "Smelled pretty good."

Archer shrugged. "Lancer gave it to me. Unless I'm mistaken, he did a number of favors for a few locals back in Sighisoara and they gave it to him as thanks. He in turn gave it to me."

Kairi cocked an eyebrow. "We're in the middle of a Holy Grail War, and he's going around playing the altruist?"

"I imagine he was more subtle about it, but essentially yes," Archer admitted. "I must admit, when I was summoned, I had dreaded being forced into an alliance. My past experiences with such coalitions have been… mixed… to say the least. And heroes are not known for working well together."

"Why do you sound like you're speaking from experience?" Mordred smirked, taking a break from her cheesecake.

"That said, this Red Faction is… tolerable." Archer continued with an irritated glare at the knight. "Save Caster and Berserker, all the others' faults have been offset by equal competence."

"I thought we didn't have a Berserker anymore," said Mordred.

"You'd be correct. My personal opinion is that we're better off for it." She glared at both Kairi and Mordred. "I can only hope that the two of you continue this trend."

Kairi shrugged. "Sure. We'll do our best."

Archer huffed.

"I suppose we'll see. But if it helps…" she grumbled, "…I suppose I could endeavor to be less… confrontational."

Mordred swallowed the food in her mouth. "So, does that mean I can touch your—"

"No."

"Damn it!"

Mordred leaned back in her seat in a huff and stuffed another slice of cake down her throat.

Archer turned to Kairi. "So, what did you learn from your investigation at the morgue?"

Kairi pulled out a newspaper from his coat. He unfurled it over the table. "I convinced one of the coroners to let me examine the corpses. Based on the wounds I noticed, some of the victims probably tried to fight back, but for the most part, they were chopped into pieces with their hearts gouged out."

"So, we're dealing with—" Archer began, only for Mordred to interrupt.

"Why the heart?"

"Well, for Servants, the heart is the location of their spirit core. And for humans, it's the source of life. So, if I had to take a guess, whoever did it ate them to gain mana."

"Well that's pretty disgusting," Mordred groaned.

"That's not all. The headline isn't just for show." Kairi explained. "They all bear striking similarities to the original Jack the Ripper murders. Specifically, the causes of death match those of the so-called 'canon' Ripper victims as well; asphyxiation followed by a deep laceration to the throat. Almost like an incomplete decapitation, with the murder weapon probably a knife of some sort, though not all of the wounds matched. It was gruesome sight."

"So it's a Servant. Hmm… if they had only gone after the mages it could have been excused as simple warfare," Archer mused. "But these thugs… killing those uninvolved with the war is pointless, even detrimental if Ruler were to discover the murders. Combine that bit of evidence with the missing hearts, and as I was saying before your Servant interrupted me, it's not a stretch to determine that we're dealing with a soul eater. Assassin is killing these people for magical energy. Which means…"

"They've gone rogue," Kairi finished. He sighed and adjusted his sunglasses to sit higher up on his face. "How long do you think we have until they show up to deal with their deserter?"

"Considering the penalties they could suffer if Ruler finds out?" said Archer, "Tonight, no later. They may even be in the city already and are just waiting for Assassin to show itself."

"Wonderful. Well, maybe we'll get lucky and it'll take out a Black Master before it takes the bait and comes after me," Shishigou muttered. "Then again, we can't exactly say for certain that they don't hold any allegiance to the other Masters of Black. This isn't exactly Yggdmillennia territory, and all the mage victims so far have been from the Association, so we probably shouldn't count on it being alone."

"A fair point," Archer said. "In any case, we'll have to make do with just us. Lancer would never even consider using his full power in such a populated area, and Rider would enormously vulnerable if this Assassin discovered his weakness."

"That's fine. Not like we've been getting much help until now anyway," Mordred noted, jamming another slice of cake into her mouth and starting to chew. Strangely, she didn't follow her prideful set up by boasting about how she would have been more than enough to deal with Assassin on her own. That alone got Kairi's attention, and when he turned to her, the Knight of Treachery had a pensive scowl painted across her face.

"Hey, Archer?" she asked. "The priest mentioned that our Lancer and Rider are both heroes of the highest order. Is that true?"

Archer blinked in confusion. "Well… yes, they are. Though Rider can be juvenile at times, I confess I've seen few who can equal him in combat."

"Juvenile, not him then. What about Lancer? Does he… by any chance… does he look like me?"

"Um… no. Nothing at all," Archer replied, looking just a little unsettled. "Saber, are you alright?"

Mordred scowled. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

'You thinking they might have been your old man?'

"No! Shut up! I just wanted to check to see if I could figure out who our allies are, nothing else."

'Right.'

Kairi shook his head. Even after seeing those memories, he couldn't tell whether his Servant actually wanted to run into her father in the Holy Grail War or not. On the one hand, she seemed to have a lot she wanted to work out with the guy (girl? Why couldn't Servants ever be as simple as the history books said they were?). But on the other hand, he couldn't imagine reuniting with the person whose kingdom you destroyed and who later impaled you on a gigantic lance to be something one would look forward to, even someone as crazy as Mordred.

Still, one way or another, putting her mind at ease could only help their chances in the war.

"What about the Servants of Black?" he asked Archer. "Other than Assassin, you saw them all when Berserker got captured, right?"

"Most of them." The lion woman confirmed. "My counterpart kept his distance, though he was incredibly skilled, enough to put pressure on Rider, even."

"Bah! Even if he'd annihilated Rider, that couldn't possibly be father. He'd never cower from an enemy from range like that. That was what we had Tristan's pansy ass for. 'How sad!' Every! Other! Minute!" She punctuated each word by slamming a fist on the table, getting a few stares from other patrons sitting on the patio, then scratched her head violently with both hands. "UGH! Just thinking about that loon gets me worked up! He says the King doesn't understand his subjects. All well and good, he's kinda right, but out of all the knights, he is the last person to talk!"

Kairi ignored that comment. Obviously one of the other Knights of the Round Table. It seemed that the more he learned, the weirder they got. He merely nodded for their ally to continue. "What did the rest of them look like?"

"Other than the dragonslayer and the vampire guy," Mordred added.

Archer rolled her eyes. "Very well. Their Caster seemed to have encased himself in golden armor with a faceless mask, and he wore purple robes over it."

"Father was no mage. And he'd never wear something as tacky as purple."

"Their Berserker was some strange combination of flesh and machinery. She, or perhaps it, was dressed as some sort of bride and wielded a large electrical mace, though she actually looked like she had some difficulty carrying it."

"Father was far too composed to ever be summoned as a Berserker. And he was never a bride."

'Yeah. I suppose hiding his gender would—'

"Master," Mordred growled.

'Right. Sorry.'

"And as for their Rider…" Archer's eyes scrunched in confusion. "I apologize, but I honestly couldn't tell if their Rider was man or a woman."

"…Could that have been?"

"Whoever they were, they had long pink hair and an insufferable personality. We may have to kill them first before the others."

The brief flash of hope in Mordred's eyes vanished, replaced by a disgruntled squint. She snarled and stuffed another cake slice into her mouth.

Archer turned to Kairi. "Should I assume my information was unhelpful?"

The necromancer shook his head. "No, it's fine. Just…" he shook his head. "It's complicated."

"It often is with heroes. Let us hope our hunt for Assassin is less so."

Kairi firmly agreed with that sentiment. But as assuredly as he knew Mordred would be soon be hounding him for more cake or maybe one of those fruit pastries from behind the counter, he knew that it had absolutely no chance of coming to pass.

A swift breeze passed by them as someone decided to ignore the speed limit.

And then Mordred did something he'd never seen her do before.

A half-eaten slice of cake fell from her hand, hitting the sidewalk with a near-inaudible splat. He looked up at her face, finding a dumbstruck expression etched onto her face.

"Saber…?" he asked, "You okay th—"

Before he could even finish, Mordred threw herself out of her chair, practically sending it skidding across the patio as she jumped over the fence and took off at a sprint.

"Sorry, Master, I'll be right back, I swear!" she shouted over her shoulder.

"Saber!" he called after, shooting to his feet.

He could ignore the strange stares his Servant was getting and the look on Archer's face that clearly read 'I give up.' What concerned him was the unprecedented tone of complete blatant uncertainty in Mordred's voice. She sounded panicked.

Wait a minute…

"Shit…" he grumbled, noticing the waitress coming back with the bill, and hurriedly producing a credit card.

He hoped this wasn't what he thought it was.


FATEFATEFATEFATE

It couldn't be.

It couldn't be!

It was beyond improbable.

But who else could it have been?

Mordred dashed after the speeding motorcycle as fast as she could, which wasn't nearly fast enough. The longer the chase continued, the further and further away the mechanical contraption got, mixing in with the city's rush hour traffic.

Not that the driver seemed to notice. Whoever was at the wheel of the silver vehicle charged through the maze of cars like they were riding a horse through an open field, deftly maneuvering through traffic like a dancer's recital. If their unnatural speed didn't give away that there was a Servant involved, the impossiblely nimble steering certainly made a compelling case. All too soon, that faint point of light that dimly called to her in her mind began to fall out of her reach.

Damn it all! Even if she could use her full speed, the motorcycle was still moving too quickly, and she couldn't even do that because it was broad daylight and she was surrounded by stupid witnesses!

Finally, the vehicle got too far out of her range, or whoever was on the bike somehow smothered their prana signature, or something. Whatever happened, the pinprick of recognition faded from the back of Mordred's mind, once more leaving her with only her memories.

The Knight of Treachery seethed, every inch of her body churning with fury. Knowing she couldn't fully express herself while surrounded by bystanders, she marched down a dark back alley. Once there, she promptly howled to the sky and punched a fist through a wall. The brick exploded into powder as crimson lightning sparked off her arm.

"Holy shit!"

Her eyebrow twitched. The world just didn't seem to want to cut her a break.

She turned around and took stock of the idiot who'd gasped at her display. He was shabby, unwashed, covered in filthy, torn clothes and was squatting in a cardboard box. A near empty beer bottle had clattered at his feet.

In short, a peasant. One that she was in absolutely no mood to deal with. But since the only other option would be to kill the guy, and she didn't particularly enjoy the thought of doing that, wasn't his fault the coward on the bike had pissed her off, she decided to see if she could finally get some use out of being forced to watch Gwaine make tasteless jokes all the time.

"Oh no, the pain." she stated flatly, clutching her not at all injured hand to her chest. "Why oh why did I punch that wall? Oh, the pain."

The homeless man continued to stare at her in complete bafflement and awe. Normally, that was to be expected of anyone who witnessed her magnificence, especially since this blessed soul was the first to witness her previously untapped acting talents, but it was not helpful when she was trying to get him to disregard what he'd seen. Maybe she should go for the 'oh, the pain' again-

"Saber!"

Mordred winced at her master's telepathic shout. She whirled away from the homeless man. "I'm here, I'm here. I hear you loud and clear, master."

"Finally." Shishigou sighed. "What the heck was that about?"

"Nothing. It was no big deal. I said I'd be right back and I will," she shouted, though she cast a miserable glance at the homeless man over her shoulder before groaning forward. "I've just got to fix something real quick."

"Fix something? Saber, who was on that motorcycle? Was it-"

"No!" Mordred roared. "It wasn't him. It couldn't possibly have been him."

Father wouldn't run. Father was above such petty cowardice. He'd stand stalwart and face all his foes, before knocking them all down into the dirt where they belonged. Except her obviously.

Except if it wasn't him, then who else could possibly have given off that kind of presence? It was the same one! Exactly how she remembered it, from her first day on the Round Table to her final breath at Camlann. It couldn't have been anyone else!

Could it?

Did she want it to have been him?

"Right. Well, whoever it was, there isn't anything we can do about them in broad daylight." her master pointed out. "Head back over here and we'll get set for Assassin tonight. And if we run into our mysterious biker then, you can show me and Archer how a king deals with their enemies, alright?"

Mordred chuckled at that. "Right master. I'll be there soon."

She felt Shishigou's approval through their link before he fell silent. The Knight of Treachery let out a long sigh of exasperation. Between making sure she could eat as much as she wanted, listening to her brilliant strategies, and trusting her to do what she was meant to do, her necromancer master was proving himself the closest thing she'd had to a friend in her life, even if he did make her sleep in a dirty crypt.

But he was also a mercenary. He dealt with loose ends all the time, and even if he didn't enjoy it, he wouldn't hesitate to eliminate her little screw up. Which meant she needed to figure out a way to deal with it nonlethally and quick, before Archer got curious and- the homeless man was standing right behind her why?

She whirled around and glared at the shaggy idiot. "What is it?"

The man recoiled from her reproach before carefully opening his lips. "Um, girlie, what are you on?"

Okay, that was legitimately unexpected, enough that she didn't instantly break his face for calling her 'girlie'. "Huh?"

"What are you on? And whatever it is can I have some?" the man begged eagerly. "Because the way you were hitting the wall and going on to yourself, it must some gooood shit- oof!"

His sentence went unfinished. Being socked into a wall by a legendary hero could have that effect.

Mordred wiped her hands of the fool and strode out of the alley. If he still remembered what he'd seen when he woke up, it was obvious he wouldn't figure out what had really happened. He'd have quite the concussion when he woke up, but he'd still be alive. All in a day's work for a noble knight.

Somehow though, she found herself overcome with a foreign sense of uncertainty, a thrill equal parts excitement and terror surging through her.

What would she do if it really was King Arthur she'd sensed, if her father really had returned?

She shook her head. What did it matter? It was a Holy Grail War, and she intended to win. There was one option available to her, and one alone. Besides, what better way was there of proving once and for all that she had surpassed him.

I have never once thought of you as detestable. The reason I did not relinquish the throne…

"Shut up…" she muttered, a phantom voice echoing in her ears.

Was because you do not have the capacity to be king.

"SHUT UP!"

A circle of bystanders jumped at her outburst, but they didn't have much time to gawk as she swiftly charged back to the cafe, her rage powering her briske advance.

King Arthur or no, she would win the Great Holy Grail War. She would get her wish and draw Caliburn from the stone. And then she'd show the world exactly what her capacity to be king was.


FATEFATEFATEFATE

"Still no sign of anything up here," Shirou noted, his bow drawn, a sword-turned-arrow aimed out over the city of Bucharest from his perch atop a tower.

The close call with Mordred was certainly one way to arrive in the city. Though she hadn't pursued them after their initial escape, likely on her master's orders, the experience had more than rattled Saber. She'd spent every moment for nearly seven hours devising tricks to avoid being spotted again, from mingling with crowds and letting her hair down to switching between street level and the rooftops. She was mentally and emotionally exhausted. Fortunately, they still had more than enough time to get their bearings, though not as much as they would have preferred. It had all been a very unpleasant surprise and if not for Saber's inhaling of lunch, Shirou wasn't sure if she'd be up for the Assassin hunt. But the King of Knights insisted she was alright, and given she was… well… the King of Knights, Shirou was inclined to believe her.

They had left as early as they had that morning specifically so they could get a lay of the land before night fell and the hunt began, and because of that lookalike, they weren't nearly as prepared as they should have been. Hence Shirou's current role overlooking the city.

The sun had already set, but with reinforced eyes, he didn't need the light to see clearly. Very few people were outside tonight, for obvious reasons. To anyone who didn't know about magecraft, it seemed like there was an indiscriminate killer on the loose. This was good though. Bucharest was a big city, and it had been a very real possibility that there would be witnesses all over the place.

"Do you guys sense anything on the ground?" he asked.

"Other than the ones we already knew about? Nothing," Rin confirmed through the gem link. "Saber?"

"I have not detected any Servants other than Mordred and her ally," Saber confirmed. "Cursed Assassin and its Presence Concealment."

Shirou could sympathize with that. He'd only survived several encounters in the last Grail War due to being able to sense his enemies before they made their move, such as his initial encounter with Rider. While most Servants could suppress their power outside of combat, none outside of the Assassin Class could completely obscure it and their proficiency in doing so made them aggravating to seek out for the honorable battles that Saber preferred. Still, he sensed there was more troubling his old friend.

"It doesn't help that Mordred is still on the lookout for me," she added.

…case and point.

She'd suppressed her power as much as she could, but none of them believed for a moment that the Knight of Treachery wasn't at least trying to keep tabs on Arturia. They'd done their best to stay on the other side of the city, but even then Saber seemed more worried about her wayward son than their target. She seemed desperate to make sure Mordred never even saw her. Given how their battle at Camlann ended, he supposed such hesitation was only natural, but still she must have realized such a confrontation was inevitable.

No matter. They weren't there for a fight with the Red Faction. If they could take out Assassin of Black and get out without emotionally compromising Saber, they'd be fine.

Once he'd decided on his vantage point, he'd done his best to keep an eye on Mordred from a distance, and once he discovered she had another companion besides her Master, on the group as a whole. Saber had confirmed that the man with scars over his left eye—the one he'd met as he was leaving Kotomine's church—was the same mage she had seen with Mordred at Sighişoara. Kairi Shishigou, if he recalled correctly.

Of course, mages were just a single variable. The real issue had been that nun. There hadn't been anyone that looked like her in the church when he'd visited, though it was entirely possible that she had just been on an errand at the time. Of course, if he believed that, he also had to ask himself exactly how lucky he thought he was.

He and Rin had sensed two Servants in Bucharest besides Saber of Blue. Assassin of Black was hidden under Presence Concealment and Mordred was obviously one of the pair. He wouldn't be surprised if the nun was the second, a preconception that proved to be accurate when she hopped up onto a building from street-level and threw her habit aside.

And despite everything he knew about Servants, the only thing that came to his mind was, 'Why a catgirl?!'

Rin didn't have answer to that one.

With the nun's habit on, he might have suspected her for a Caster, but her bow said otherwise.

Tauropolos

The bow granted to the Huntress of Arcadia. Meaning Archer of Red was Atalanta, the princess of Arcadia who'd been abandoned and left to die in the forest by her own father for no other reason than that he'd wanted a boy. She'd been rescued by the goddess Artemis and was raised by a bear, joined the Argonauts, and claimed no small amount of prestige by being the first among almost twenty other acclaimed heroes and demigods—though some accounts said it was closer to forty—to wound the Calydonian Boar. And after offending one of the gods, she was…cursed into the form of a…lion… oh, so that's why she was a catgirl.

"Okay, correction, she's not a cat, she's a lion," he relayed to the others. "Atalanta of Arcadia."

He got no response for a moment, before Rin answered with a not very straightforward "That's interesting, but not as interesting as why Saber started coughing the moment you said that."

"I apologize for any undue alarm. I thought I saw Mordred, but I think my eyes were playing tricks on me."

Shirou decided not to call her out on what sounded like a blatantly obvious lie. Especially since he still had eyes on Mordred and she was on the other side of the city.

The Red Faction seemed to be aware of Assassin of Black's presence as well, which he considered fortunate because it meant that they were less likely to attack them and open themselves up to an ambush from the Servant of the Shadows. That left Shirou with a bird's eye view from the rooftops, allowing him to guide Rin and Saber as they patrolled the streets.

He noted the Red Faction used a similar strategy, with Mordred and her Master on the ground and Archer of Red providing cover. Throughout, Atalanta was demonstrating her abundant hunting experience. It wasn't just traditional stealth. It was clear just by watching her—when that was even possible—how aware she was of her surroundings, and those cat ears weren't for decoration. It wasn't as though she had Presence Concealment either; she was just that good at avoiding detection, managing to find suitable hiding spots no matter where she was among the city's old rooftops. If Shirou couldn't sense her magical energy, he would have never known she was also had little doubt that he'd been spotted by the Servant of the Bow.

It seemed like she was taunting him at several points, showing herself unnecessarily in feats of spectacular acrobatics, all but dancing across the Bucharest skyline as though daring him to attack her. At one point, he actually made the mistake of pointing his bow at her while she was in midair, just out of reflex upon seeing a sudden movement. An instant later, an arrow smashed through his bow and parted his hair like a gunslinger's warning shot.

She'd been upside down, coming out of a midair somersault and moving backwards. And she proceeded to land on a telephone wire and jumped to a new hiding spot from there. It was as uncanny as it was beautiful.

That said, Shirou wasn't in a particularly good position to admire the huntress' transitional grace, still reeling as he was after being told in the most tangible way that he could have had an arrow in his skull right now if she had willed it. Likely the only reason she hadn't was a desire not to risk drawing in more combatants before Assassin could be located. But the destruction of his bow, though not as debilitating as she likely expected, sent a clear message that she would not allow another ranged fighter in her skies. He'd have to be careful not to draw his opposite number's attention again.

"Hello there."

Shirou scowled. Wrong opposite number.

'Shirou? Are you alright?' Rin called.

'Maybe. I'll let you know when I find out.'

'When you f— Ugh, alright. Be careful, you idiot.'

'Aren't I aways?'

'Smartass.'

Shirou turned around to see who'd joined him on the adjacent rooftop.

Archer of Black, Chiron, looked as calm and dignified as he had in the woods south of Trifas, a soft spring breeze surrounding him like a fine mist. Shirou quickly reviewed what skills he had registered when he had seen the man's weapon. As far as he could tell, there was no reason he shouldn't have sensed the centaur's approach—ah. Wisdom of Divine Gift. So Chiron had the ability to teach himself any skill that wasn't exclusive to another hero, including Presence Concealment. That was irritating. Still, no one could maintain that stealth if they were about to attack, so it appeared he was honoring the ceasefire.

Or at least the one beside him was.

He recognized her from the other night. Wavy brown hair, clear blue eyes, and a wheelchair that seemed far more complex than any other he'd seen in his life. She was most definitely Archer of Black's Master. He hadn't sensed her approach, so it wasn't very likely she intended to attack, and he could say with certainty that he couldn't feel the slightest bit of killing intent from her. But given her family…

On the other hand, her relation to Darnic didn't necessarily have to reflect on her. Raiga Fujimura was a ruthless gangster, and if his daughter could be hyperactive English teacher whose only violent inclinations began and ended with a shinai, why couldn't a Yggdmillennia Master be a decent person?

On the other hand, there was a difference between you father being a yakuza boss, and your grandfather being a soul-eating former Nazi.

Ergh! What had he just talked to Ruler about? He couldn't judge Shirou Kotomine by his family and he could do so with this girl either. Just because she was related to Darnic didn't mean she was a scumbag like him.

Still, with a Servant right in front of him, he felt justified in conjuring Kanshou and Bakuya.

The girl's eyes widened. "Wait! I just want to talk!"

Shirou narrowed his eyes at her Servant, who maintained his serenity even as his bow flashed into existence.

"Why bring a Servant to talk?" he asked, prana tingling through his swords.

"Apologies. That was by my insistence," Chiron informed him. "Though I have complete faith that you will obey the ceasefire between our factions, it would be unwise to leave my Master's side with two Red Faction Servants nearby."

A fair point. It would be pretty foolish of them to leave a Master unprotected, especially with an enemy Archer nearby who could strike at range before they were seen. His future self and Gilgamesh had both proven exactly how dire the consequences of doing so could be. Of course, hostility or not, he didn't put his swords away, though did lower them somewhat in a show of good faith.

The girl sighed in relief. "I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Fiore Forvedge Yggdmillennia."

"Shirou Emiya," he replied cordially. "I'm sorry, but I really don't have time to talk right now. Thank you for obeying the ceasefire, but unless you're here to surrender, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"That was actually what I was going to say to you," Fiore stated evenly. She took a deep breath and held her head high, clearly trying to be as imposing as she could in spite of her disability. "I assume you were drawn here by the killings in the paper?"

Shirou nodded. "We were."

"Then you likely already suspect who the murderer is."

"Doesn't exactly take a genius. The Great Holy Grail War begins, and before the week is out, there are reports in the newspapers about murders 'mimicking' those of the greatest serial killer in English history. I guess the only question left to ask is whether he's acting alone."

Fiore cocked an eyebrow in confusion. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Then I'll be clearer," he glared, levelling a sword at the girl, "I didn't see an Assassin with you in the forest."

Fiore's eyes widened in shock. "Wait, you don't mean to suggest—?" she met his gaze with one of defiance. "Of course not! Why would we ever do that?"

Okay, so she probably wasn't in on it at least. Her indignation upon her realization of what he had accused her wasn't exactly difficult to fake, but this girl struck him as being a terrible actor. Good to know there was one decent person in the Black Faction, but the jury was still out regarding the others.

"I can't be certain of anything. I honestly don't know," he told her. "But I'm more than aware of what your leader is capable of. Can you really say this would be beneath him?"

"Well… no," Fiore frowned. "Grandfather has… he can do horrible things. I'm not disputing that. But he doesn't do them without reason. He may have ordered the assassination of the Mage's Association's enforcers, but he wouldn't have attacked the civilians. And he hadn't…" she looked away, "He hadn't given orders to… have any of these latest mages killed yet."

Some of the victims were from the Mages Association? Huh, that was also good to know. "But Darnic wouldn't care if these mages died either. Or anyone, to be honest. From what I've heard, he's killed hundreds of people."

Fiore cringed. "That's true. But please believe me. I know to you, and especially to Rin Tohsaka, the Yggdmillennia must seem like a coven of storybook villains but the truth of the matter is that I've been sent here to retrieve our Assassin and prevent this incident from claiming any more lives. I regret to say that our Assassin has gone rogue. About a week ago, around the time that the murders started, our last Master failed to report in and we've been unable to get in contact with him. We believe that Assassin killed its Master and recontracted with someone else."

The paralyzed girl's voice was firm, but Shirou could feel the desperation underneath. She needed him to believe her, to believe that her family wasn't as black as they were painted. As heartless as her leader made them seem.

The question was, why?

Suddenly—

"EEP!"

The swift crack of a gandr hitting solid stone echoed somewhere in the streets below them.

"Rin! What happened?" he shouted, suddenly combat ready again. "Is it Assassin?"

"Ugh… no. Sorry, false alarm," Rin grumbled.

"What was it?"

"Don't ask."

"What? Wh—"

"Don't! Ask!" she repeated, more forcefully this time.

"What was that?" Fiore asked, Chiron having nocked an arrow at her side.

"Apparently, you shouldn't ask," he answered with complete honesty. It felt good to be upfront about things once in a while.

"As I was saying… Aren't you a mage?" he asked, putting Rin to the back of his mind. "Your family seceded from the Mages Association, but I doubt it was over their lack of concern for collateral damage when it came to magecraft related incidents. Why do you care if outsiders die?"

He caught Chiron's gaze flicker to his Master, curiosity evident in his eyes. It seemed his query was a shared one.

Fiore pushed herself deeper into the seat of her wheelchair, shying away from him like a cat that had been struck. For a moment, Shirou wondered if she would answer at all.

Finally, she looked back up at him, some measure of steel in her gaze. "Why didn't you kill all of us when you had the chance?"

Shirou smirked. "You mean besides needing to use you to whittle down the Red Faction?"

"Besides that."

"Because I don't want to kill you," Shirou answered, his voice iron and true.

Fiore blinked, stunned by his words. Even Chiron cocked an eyebrow.

"Don't get me wrong, I knew what I was getting into when I joined the war," he assured them. "I understand that the Servants have to die for the war to proceed, in the end, they're already dead. They've lived their lives, for better or worse, there is nothing I can do about that. And if it comes down to it, I'll do what I have to when I meet the other Masters, but ideally, I'd want them all to survive. I'm going to save everyone I can."

Master and Servant of Black alike started at him in utter befuddlement. Then, Chiron settled into a respectful smile. "And they say there are none worthy of the throne left in this age."

"I wouldn't go that far," Shirou refuted, a crimson mantle atop a lonely hill flashing through his mind. "But I do my best. Rin and I don't have any wish of our own. We're just here to make sure no one dangerous gets the grail."

"But that doesn't make any sense!" Fiore scrambled, frantically looking between him and her Servant. "You… you have a Reality Marble. To manifest something like that, it should have taken generations of meticulous study."

"That's normally true, but I'm something of a special case. What does that have to do with your previous question?"

"Everything! You've reached the pinnacle of Thaumaturgy! You're one step away from the Root! You shouldn't—you couldn't be anything but a traditional mage!" Fiore exclaimed, realizing she was sitting too far forward in her chair and pushing herself back. making sure not to get too flustered given how high up they were. "You're one step away from the Root, you should want to get to there even more than grandfather, not… how can you be so compassionate—?"

"Why do you want it?"

The girl blinked. "What?"

"What wish do you have for the grail?" Shirou inquired. "You said Darnic wanted the grail to reach the Root. That implies that your wish is for something else. So what do you want from it?"

Once again, Fiore became withdrawn. Her hands glided over her unresponsive knees.

"I was born with a nearly unprecedentedly high magic circuit count. But they're all in my legs, and they're interfering with the nerves in my legs. That's why I'm in a wheelchair. If I had my magic circuits removed, I'd be able to walk, but it would mean losing all of my magic circuits. I'd never be able to use magecraft again."

Shirou nodded. So that was it.

"My wish is to be able to stand up," she whispered. "I want to walk on my own two feet without giving up on living my life as a mage."

"Master…" Chiron placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Fiore smiled at him and then faced Shirou with a gaze of iron. "That is why I must win the grail. And it is also why I ask you to let us retrieve our Assassin without interference. As a Servant of Black, they are off limits to you for the duration of the ceasefire. I promise, we won't allow this kind of careless slaughter to happen again."

Shirou decided then that he liked Fiore Forvedge Yggdmillennia. She was a kind soul, especially for a mage. Under different circumstances, he felt they could have been friends. Unfortunately, war was not the best time to make friends with your opponents.

"I'm sorry. I'm not able to do that. The death toll is too high already, and Assassin's Master is either under his control or worse, complicit in the crimes," he said calmly. "And you've already failed to control them once. That doesn't exactly inspire my confidence that you can rein them in."

"But the ceasefire—"

"Didn't you already say Assassin has gone rogue?"

Her counterargument sputtered to a halt. "Well… yes…"

"Then by the rules of the war, they're no longer associated with any faction. And they must be eliminated as quickly as possible." Shirou's expression darkened as memories of Caster and Gilgamesh flooded his mind. "Trust me. Something like this never ends well. The best thing anyone can do is to try and mitigate the damage as much as we can."

Fiore looked like she wanted to argue, but the steel in his eyes killed her words before they left her mouth. "I… I understand. We won't attack you while you're attempting to eliminate them."

"Although, do bear in mind that we will be attempting to extricate them at the same time," Chiron added, an almost teasing smirk of his own aimed at Shirou. "I must admit, after the events in the forest, I am eager to see how your group performs against the Red Faction."

Shirou didn't know exactly how well they would do either, given Saber's anxieties about Mordred. But there was no reason to let the Sage of Heroes know that, so he flashed the disguised centaur a rival grin. "Maybe you'll get your chance. Or maybe we'll get to see how you do against them."

"Perhaps." Chiron bowed his head to Fiore. "Master, are you satisfied?"

Fiore's brow furrowed for a moment but in the end she nodded. "Yes. Let's go, Archer." The Servant of the Bow nodded and took up a position behind his Master's wheelchair.

"For what it's worth, Shirou Emiya," she called back towards him. "I'm sorry for what my Grandfather did to the Tohsakas."

Shirou cocked an eyebrow. "Sorry? For something you weren't involved with, that happened before you were born? Who was it that wasn't acting like a proper mage again, Yggdmillennia?"

"Oh, don't worry," the girl smirked. "If it comes down to it, I'll do what I have to."

Shirou allowed himself a brief chuckle as she echoed his earlier statement, but he couldn't help but frown as he realized he needed to ask, "One last question: If you know what Darnic is, what he's done, why would you ever side with him?"

Once again, Fiore avoided meeting his eyes. Her hands clenched against the arms of her chair. "Because, for whatever horrible things he's done, he's still capable of worse."

"And do you really think he won't if you both make it to the war's individual stage?"

"To be a mage is to walk with death," she recited. "I've come to accept that, and can cross that bridge when I come to it. But believe me, Shirou Emiya. I have no intention of dying here."

With that, Archer made the barest movements and the pair disappeared.

Shirou sighed tiredly. "No one does. And yet they do all the same."

He looked back out over the skyline in time to see Archer of Black skirt around the corner of a steeple off in the distance, his false Presence Concealment cloaking him and his master.

"So, how long were you listening in?"

"She's lying," Rin declared. "Not about her intentions, we can trust her not to shoot us in the back, but I know when someone is just reciting mage doctrine when I hear it. I did it myself for a long time, though she's worse than I ever was. She doesn't know how to be ruthless. Even if she's superior to that third-rate hack in every way as a mage, she'll still die, because when she hesitates at the last second, he'll go for the throat without a second thought."

"Don't be so grim. And that doesn't really answer my question, either."

"Most of it. And I don't mean to sound like she's doomed or anything. I'm just saying we have to kill Darnic before the war reaches phase two."

"Well, no sense arguing with that," Shirou grumbled. "I'm not giving up on Darnic, but I'm not expecting much from him. He can choose for himself whether he wants to live or die."

"She seemed to have her doubts about him," Saber noted. "Perhaps we can persuade her to join us once the other Factions have been whittled down. Her wish is innocent enough. If she proves to be everything she seems, I see no harm in entrusting her with the grail."

"We don't have anything to use it for, so I would be okay with that. Zelretch did say we just needed to win," Shirou agreed. "Where are you right now?"

"We came to find you as a precaution when we heard someone else's voice over your gem-link, so we should only be a few blocks away right now."

"Right, I'll come and meet you in a few minutes."

He noticed Archer of Red leap across a number of buildings, not even keeping a pretence of keeping herself hidden all of a sudden, but he hadn't seen any signs of fighting. Had the Master of Red gotten hurt? If so, Saber might not have to meet Mordred after all. That'd be a relief for her, even if he personally hoped the man was alright.

"So," he added, "If you were listening in the whole time, why wasn't I getting a running commentary from the peanut gallery the whole time?"

"She tried once, but I reminded her that her focus needed to be elsewhere."

"You didn't have to make me think Assassin was right behind me!"

Oh, so that's what he wasn't supposed to ask about.

"So that's what I wasn't supposed to ask about," he said cheekily.

"What? Of course not," Rin refuted.

Shirou smirked. "Sure."

"I'm serious!"

"I heard you yelp and fire a gandr, and you both just said it happened."

"We cannot afford to split our focus between our task and this conversation," Saber cut in, dragging the both of them out of their banter. "Particularly when Assassin could appear at any moment."

"Honestly, why haven't they appeared yet?" Rin groused, "Why is it that the enemy Servant suddenly decides to play it safe the moment we want it to attack us. Where's the damn serial killer?"

Shirou turned back to the Bucharest skyline. His eyes widened. "I think I have an answer to that question."

Off in the distance, in the direction that he'd seen Archer of Red headed, a thick, murky fog was climbing over the rooftops, obscuring the entire area.

Within moments, an entire district was obscured from view, as the Mist cloaked the area like a shroud.


Okay! Finally! Jack, next chapter! Hallelujah! Seriously, why did this thing get so stupid long?

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Thank you for Reading! I hope you enjoy what comes next!

Go Forth and Conquer!