This is what I call the investigation route. You'll soon see why.

The Fifth Assassin is a Spy - Investigation

Now, we will practice stealth," Mata Hari began as they stood in front of an abandoned mansion in the woods on the other side of the river from their house. "I will be sneaking around and you will be too. If I hear you or see you, you fail and have to start all over again. If you detect me, then you win."

Of course, she was going to cheat by astralizing and following him around. It was more important that he get his bad habits in stealth worked out than he learn to detect people sneaking around for now.

"Okay," Shirou looked around the spooky mansion, nervously fingering a wrench he had taken with him in case he got 'mugged' again. She didn't expect it to be of use against a Servant. "How did you know this was here?"

"I asked around," Mata Hari tossed her brown hair. "Taiga's grandfather remembered hearing stories about this place. Apparently it had had some kind of military cosplayer back in his father's days and people had done tests of courage after it was abandoned. Raiga remembered enough about it for me to track it down."

"Ah," Shirou nodded in acceptance. Mata Hari held back a sigh as the reference to what was likely a Servant from a previous war flew over his head. How did Shirou survive with this level of blind acceptance?

But she couldn't blame him for being naïve. He hadn't needed to be suspicious of everyone and everything.

"Now, you go first," Mata Hari invited, waving a hand at the closed gate. While searching for it, she had found the gate slightly open from all the people who had snuck in over the years. She had closed the gate in preparation but Shirou would need to first figure out how to get inside without leaving tracks.

She would suggest the back gate that was also left open but it looked like Shirou was too straightforward to go look for a better place to enter from.

Shirou eyed the wall and metal gate before stepping a few paces back. Crouching down, Shirou got into a position before exploding forward in a burst of speed and movement. In a few quick steps, Shirou leaped, kicking off the ground in an excellent jump that had his hand land on the top of the brick wall and grasp ahold of.

"Better to go over the wall than to go through the gate. The hinges are rusted and they would make horrible noise. We'll cover the various ways of quieting them tomorrow night," Mata Hari called out as her Master hauled himself over the wall with just his arm strength. "However, next time, I recommend you get a good look at the top of the wall before trusting that the owner didn't put any defenses or alarms up. Climb one of these trees to get a better view. Remember, information matters."

Her only reply was a grunt as Shirou fell to the ground, landing in an audible thud.

"Also," She called out. "Try to keep sounds to a minimum. When it comes to landing, you can lower yourself by gripping onto something and then only dropping a few feet rather than the full height of the wall. Or you can roll and bleed off speed and noise that way."

"Okay," Shirou called out. Mata Hari could hear the ruffling of grass as Shirou started walking away. "Um, how do I walk without making noise?"

"Speed makes more noise," Mata Hari informed in a loud voice. "The slower you interact with something, the quieter it will be. I'll be starting in five seconds so you have that long to ask any more questions you have."

She could barely hear any noise of his steps now. But she could detect through her Master-Servant bond that he was barely moving now. He would need to figure out the sweet spot of moving slowly enough not to make noise but also fast enough that he wasn't a sitting duck.

"I think I'm good for now," Shirou's voice drifted through the gate.

"Alright, I'll start counting," Mata Hari began, still speaking loudly enough for Shirou to hear and for her to not hear the sound of his feet. "One, two, three, four, five. Ready or not, here I come."

She wheeled on her feet and started stealthily walking towards the back gate, moving swiftly but when her feet neared the ground, slowing down enough that the sound wasn't any louder than that of the wind. Shirou was probably going to assume she would go over the wall or through the front gate. She wasn't. She was going to use the open gate and teach Shirou to start wondering what else he could be missing.

For example, there was an escape tunnel beneath their feet. She had only found it because she had realized that the dimensions of the hallway did not match up with the rooms and a quick astralization through the walls had confirmed that there was a secret passage that went down into the ground. It didn't lead anywhere important but the distance was enough that a person could escape being seen by anyone ransacking the mansion.

Eventually and without any noise of her own, Mata Hari reached the open back gate and let herself in. She smiled.

The game was afoot.

"Magaretha!" Shirou yelled in a panic. "There's a dead body here!"

What?

Mata Hari burst into a sprint, running towards a small shed where Shirou was. Her superhuman agility had her running through the open door a few seconds after Shirou had yelled.

There was a body of a woman with dark magenta hair in a business suit. But she had evidently seen better days as her left arm was missing and the sleeves of her suit was ripped as if it had been sliced by a bladed weapon. But the stump of her arm was bound in an awkward looking but tight knot. Like it had been made by a person with only one hand.

I should have checked the shed when I was here, Mata Hari berated herself. But no, I got caught up with the secret of the underground tunnel and spent my time searching it and not for other secrets.

Looks like she needed to have a lesson on double checking her assumptions too.

"She's alive," her Master looked up at her, one hand on the corpse's throat, worry on his face. "But she's really cold. I think we should call an ambulance."

"No," Mata Hari could sense a magical energy coming from the woman's earrings and clothes. If Mata Hari had to guess, this was a magus here for the Grail War. "We can't take her to the public."
"Is she a spy? One of your pursuers?" Shirou had a complicated expression. Dismay was there but so were other emotions. Worry, concern, fear. Anger too?

"Maybe," Mata Hari compromised. "But I think I know why she is in Fuyuki and taking her to the hospital is not the best idea. I think she might be related to the source of your mysterious tattoo."

Way too easy for a Master, an already beaten one, to be killed in a hospital and it would become public news too.

"So take her to our home?" Shirou asked, ignoring the hint at the Command Seal.

"Do you want to save her life?" Mata Hari asked, leveling her gaze onto her ignorant Master.

"Of course," Shirou answered instantly.

"As you wish," Mata Hari shrugged. It didn't matter too much to her. But maybe this Master could teach her Master. Or just erase his memories again. At this point, the latter wouldn't surprise her. It would be, what, his fourth time? In the last week alone at least? "How about you, no, I'll go and get a vehicle and you can carry her."

Shirou made to pick the wounded woman up.

"But first," she stopped him, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Let's get something from the house to carry her smoothly. We wouldn't want to jar her wound open after all."

Shirou nodded in agreement.

Bazzett was surprised to wake up.

She was certain she was going to be killed. Her arm torn off, her Command Seals stolen, her Servant taken and Command Sealed to treat as his Master, that traitor, Kirei! She was alone, in enemy territory, with Kirei having all the cards. Beaten savagely, the loss of her arm throwing her off, that was her story and she was sticking to it! Beaten savagely, she should have died. She would have died if she hadn't enchanted her clothes to protect her.

But Cu Chulainn. Cu Chulainn! Her poor hero, bound by Command Seal, ripped from his Master and enslaved by what was meant to help him win! Oooh, if she got her hands on him!

Wincing from the pain in her hand, Bazzett winced and relaxed it, letting the softness and fluffiness of the blanket on her soak into-

Wait. Blanket?

Bazett's eyes snapped open to see a ceiling in front of her. She was lying on a sleeping pad with a fluffy blanket on top of her. The ceiling light was off but there was sunlight. Or at least, she assumed there was sunlight as the room was bright but not with shadows. Was she inside? In a place without windows?

Bazzett turned her head and blinked.

Why was the wall made out of paper? Sure, there was wood latticework but why was the wall made out of paper? Who would make walls out of paper?

The wall moved. Bazett blinked and raised her hands-

Bazett blinked as only one arm moved. Oh yeah, only one hand now.

"Hey, are you alright?" A soft woman's voice asked.

Bazzett refastened her eyes on the person who had entered the room by moving the paper wall. Well, at least a paper wall would be lighter than pure wood.

The woman was not Japanese. She had brown hair, blue eyes, and a non-Japanese facial structure.

She also had a magical signature of a Servant. Yet for some reason, Bazzett's instincts weren't treating her as a threat, instead treating her like she was someone she should have expected-

"Assassin."

The word slipped out of her throat. Stupid! Bazzett berated herself. Telling the enemy that she knew who they were while she was weak was just plain amateur stupid!

The Servant blinked.

"Well, that is my title," Assassin set down a platter that contained a bowl of steaming rice porridge. "But do you know that you are the first person to realize my class without me telling them? What gave it away?"

"I trust you," Bazzett narrowed her eyes at Assassin even as her mind and heart screamed at her to trust this woman. It was just paranoia. "I shouldn't."

Assassin clicked her tongue. "Espionage doesn't work if the approach is wrong. Yes, I am Assassin. I am, without a doubt, the weakest Servant. I don't even have the ability to kill someone."

"Then how are you Assassin?" Bazzett shouldn't be relaxing.

"I am a spy," Assassin answered easily, kneeling and sitting a pace away from Bazzett. "That apparently is close enough to Assassin to count even though I have never killed anyone in my life." The woman Servant shrugged. "A major disadvantage in a Grail War."

Bazzett nodded. That was true. She'd have to review this when the Servant was gone. Who knows how her mind was being adjusted. Hopefully by the time this conversation was over, Bazzett would still be able to check herself against any form of control.

"And the food?" Bazzett asked. She couldn't trust this Servant. You didn't need to be a professional assassin to poison the food. For that matter, you didn't even need to be trying to kill someone with your cooking to succeed in killing someone via food poisoning.

No, she wasn't speaking from experience from when she put herself in the hospital a week after leaving her home village. How was she supposed to know that salmonella could leave one vulnerable to typhoid? And she thought that those eggs weren't that bad…

So she was hungry enough to eat food that smelled wrong. So sue her! She didn't mean that. She didn't have the money to pay for defending against a lawsuit.

"We don't know how long you were in that shed," Assassin said, pushing the food closer to Bazzett.

"You and your Master?" Bazzett asked, tensing slightly. Who else was here?

"No, me and my apprentice," Assassin pouted, her lips falling. "My Master gave up when he realized how weak I was. Then while I was wandering around trying to see how things had changed since my day, I stumbled upon a Master taking care of a witness and I volunteered to keep an eye on the witness."

"Oh?" Bazzett raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

"The witness is now my apprentice," Assassin answered. "He decided to be a spy which is my cover story for being in his house."

Bazzett leveled her gaze onto Assassin. It didn't work so well when she was still lying down and Assassin was sitting up.

"He cooks really well," Assassin urged, pushing the platter with the bowl towards Bazzett. "You should have some."

Bazzett pursed her lips but made to push herself up. She only managed a short distance before slipping and falling back.

Stupid lack of an arm and extreme weakness.

"Here, let me help you," Assassin reached out with a hand. Like how Kirei had reached after he had cut-

Bazzett threw herself away, blanket surrounding her and cushioning her landing on the same mattress a few inches away from where she had started. Assassin paused before retracting her hand.

"Betrayed?" Assassin asked sympathetically.

Bazzett narrowed her eyes. This spy Assassin was good. She was learning more about Bazzett than Bazzett was about her. And Assassin was doing most of the talking!

Then again, Assassin was a Heroic Spirit. Very few of those became Heroic Spirits by being bad at what they did.

"Me too. I don't remember it but I know I was betrayed. As a Servant, I am from before I was framed and executed. It," she sighed in the middle of her confession. "It makes sense. Things were going bad. People were looking for someone to blame that wasn't themselves. I just never thought they would sell me out."

Bazzett shouldn't be feeling sympathetic. Heck, Assassin could even be exaggerating! And it was still working, even though she knew it was probably a skill at work.

"But my apprentice isn't like that," Assassin had a flash of amusement cross her face, a crinkle to the eyes, a smile on the lips. "He's probably the last person who should be a spy. But it is something to do. A legacy I can make."

She shrugged. "And it is something to do while waiting to be killed."

"Morbid," Bazzett shot back. Why was she so relaxed! She shouldn't be bantering like this!

"Realistic," Assassin primly said before breaking the impression by giving a sly grin. "And this is the only chance I have to spread my legs."

Bazzett's eyes dropped down to the bowl of food. It didn't look too appetizing but-

Her stomach growled and Bazzett sighed in resignation. What the heck, even if the food was poisoned, at least it would be better than being force-fed it while being this weak.

"And where is your apprentice?" Bazzet resigned herself as pushed herself up.

"He's at school," Assassin answered.

Bazzet stopped to stare at Assassin who was smiling.

"He's a good kid," Assassin answered the implied question of 'really?' "Also, his guardian is a teacher so he doesn't get excuses as to why he didn't go to school."

"How is the food still warm then?" Bazzett questioned, eyeing the steam.

"I can use a stove," Assassin replied with an offended look. "I was a mother and I do know how to cook. Reheating food isn't that difficult."

Bazzett supposed she was not supposed to hear "Just wish I could cook like how he does. How does he cook that good? He's younger than me and I have been cooking longer than he's been alive. It's not fair." but maybe the spy meant for her to hear.

Bazzett hated politics. That was why she was an Enforcer, not one of those jostling for position magi.

Bazzett reached one trembling hand out for the food only for Assassin to pick up the spoon.

"Let me," Assassin offered, taking a scoop of porridge. "Say 'Ah'."

"No," Bazzett refused.

She was not a child! She would not be babied!

"You are shaking. I don't want to have to clean up the futon of food stains, even if it is easier now than in my day," Assassin's hand didn't waver even as her smile took on a stubborn set. "Now say 'Ah'."

"No," Bazzett refused again, crossing her arms- single arm. She may have nearly died but she still had her pride!

Shirou came home to find the bowl of porridge empty.

"She woke up and ate a bit and then went back to sleep," Margaretha informed him before pouting. Shirou's heart skipped a few beats from how dangerously cute it was. "Wouldn't let me feed her."

"Not everyone appreciates being babied," Shirou disagreed. Margaretha looked blankly at him.

"Why not?" She asked, still not comprehending. "Everyone I knew did, even if it was buried deep inside them."

"Well," Shirou found himself defending a position against a more experienced foe. "People like their pride. They like being able to take care of themselves."

"And yet, the rich and powerful hire people by the dozens to take care of them," Margaretha pointed out. "They hire people for the purpose of being pampered."

"Well, maybe the rich are different," Shirou decided. "But more common people pride themselves on being self-sufficient."

"I wasn't born rich. Even the low class and middle class like being pampered. That's how places like spas and masseurs are able to keep themselves in business," Mata Hari brought up the service industries.

"Well, maybe it is a balance?" Shirou felt off-balance himself. "People like being both self-sufficient and having people do stuff for them?"

"Indeed," Margaretha nodded. "As a spy, you have to be able to pamper a person's ego while not offending their pride. Ideally, a spy would make it so that a person's ego includes you so that even things they know not to tell anyone else will spill without you even asking."

"Makes sense," Shirou agreed after a moment of thought. "That degree of trust would help a lot. But still, you can't pamper everyone, Margaretha. Some people like being able to handle things on their own."

"Like you?" Margaretha raised an eyebrow.

"Taiga told you?" Shirou grumbled as he winced.

"Yes, she told me when I asked about you working at Copenhagen," Margaretha revealed. "An early job is good experience, especially for a spy. At a bar, people are more likely to spill secrets without realizing. The downside is, anyone with a decent secret knows that they are likely to divulge while at a bar so you are the first one they will look at."

"Huh," Shirou contemplated that. He had never considered that his job at Copenhagen might work out for spy practice. "Perhaps I can hear something about why the woman was injured? What is her name by the way?"

"I don't know," Margaretha shrugged one smooth, round shoulder. "I never got the opportunity to ask and after she ate, she was sleepy so I sang her a lullaby and she fell back asleep right away."

"Makes sense," Shirou sighed. "Losing an arm has to be a major injury."

"Indeed, it is." Margaretha nodded before clapping her hands together. "So, that is why I will assign you the task of figuring out who she is and how she got that wound."
"What? Me?" Shirou pointed at himself in surprise. "Why me?"

"Because you need a chance to practice," Margaretha answered with a sweet smile. "Experience is the best teacher and she can't escape. And I can't teach you how to torture anyone anyway."

"I don't want to torture anyone!" Shirou protested, his hands slamming down onto the table.

"Neither do I," Margaretha nodded with a look of sympathy as she laid one hand on top of Shirou's. "Which is why I don't know how. I wasn't an interrogator. But she has some secrets, secrets people will kill to hide, and if you can figure them out, that will teach you more about being a spy than almost anything I can do."

Shirou stopped to think about it.

"Will that include the people who tried to kill her?" Shirou asked.

"If she tries to hide it, then yes." Margaretha gave a wry smile. "I think you'll find that pretty easy though. Most people don't try to hide who left them for dead."

To Shirou's surprise, but not Mata Hari's, Bazzett refused to name who had tried to kill her saying that Shirou stood no chance against him, that nobody stood a chance against him now.

Hmm. The problem is, I don't know which version to go with. The above with Shirou and Mata Hari stumbling over Bazzett would make a good murder mystery, where we can see Shirou and Assassin trying to figure out who ripped off the woman's arm and left her to die.

But the alternative is an interesting option too. Read the next chapter.