FATE/NOVUS ORDO SECLORUM
"New Order of the Ages"
Chapter 2: Escape From the Gilded Prison
Three months later, it was now approaching the mid-spring season, and the temperature had risen considerably to melt all of the winter snow away. The full moon hung over the picture-perfect night sky, surrounded by countless shining stars. The twinkling sky blanketed all of America in darkness, with only these few astrological bodies to provide any sort of illumination. Even though it was in the middle of the East-West war, this time of hour was the only reprieve that both sides had before they would wake up and brandish their weapons again. It was in this midnight silence that a pair of frantically running footsteps dashed through the forests at the border of western Pennsylvania and eastern Ohio.
… What am I doing?
That question kept repeating itself over and over in Connla's mind. All through her trek across Pennsylvania, she kept asking herself why she was running. Indeed, she had abandoned the White House at the first sign she believed everyone else was asleep, and ran nonstop during the earlier part of the night. Although she had her doubts, she refused to stop. She desperately wanted to make distance between herself and the Celtic headquarters. Her innate speed plus some assistance from a few Runes made it possible for her to go as quickly as she did, but she still felt it wasn't enough.
Father… Queen Medb… How will they react when they find out I'm gone?
The thought of facing Cuchulainn's fury spurred Connla on. The man was frightening enough without angering him over her desertion. She had the ability to fight, but she couldn't fathom being able to defeat Ireland's most celebrated hero in a duel to the death. She failed to do so in her lifetime, so trying to battle him again would definitely end in the same result. All of the other Celtic warriors and various Servants who joined their cause would not agree with her decision either.
Not only did she have to contend with lack of moral support, there was also the issue of where she was going to run to. If the world wasn't being incinerated, she would have gladly ran north to British North America, where the future country of Canada would be born. Unfortunately, the incineration caught up to those lands and destroyed them. Going straight south wasn't an option either since the destruction encroached all of South America already. America was literally the only viable land remaining in existence. The only choice she had left was to head west, straight into the territories controlled by the United Western States.
Just keep going straight. Don't try to go anywhere else. If I can just make it to Denver, everything will be fine.
Connla knew the lay of the land and who owned which territories from the maps she studied in the White House's war room. She even brought a copy just to be sure, although her path wouldn't be a particularly difficult one. From her research, she understood that the Western States maintained their stronghold in Denver, Colorado, which was literally across the country from Washington where the Celts were fortified. Her plan was to surrender to the enemy and divulge any information she had in exchange for protection. She didn't know who the West's supporters were, but she believed that they possessed more reason than the Celts to listen to her pleas.
There was just one small problem with her plan…
How long is it going to take for me to get there? With the war raging on, it may take me longer than expected to reach the West. What if Father's Servants catch up to me in the meantime? Or even worse… What if Father personally searched for me? Or what if the West's forces don't listen to me? Would I have to find some other place to lay low for a while?
Connla shook her head. She needed to keep faith in her strategy. She had a gut feeling that the West would want to take advantage of a Celtic dissenter. She didn't mind if it meant being looked down upon or expected to do grueling work for them – she preferred being safe and treated like a person than being forced to live out a fantasy life while surrounded by murderous psychopaths.
As the very first signs of daybreak began to show themselves, the young Servant had reached the banks of Lake Erie in northern Ohio. The moon and stars faded, giving way to the rising sun and the brightening sky. She opted to take a short break at the lake's banks and sat upon a rock while observing the water. She was still feeling rather excited from making such a momentous decision, so she took some deep breaths to calm her nerves.
At around the same time, Diarmuid was already up and heading towards Connla's room in the White House. He knocked on the door and said, "Princess, breakfast has been prepared for you."
He didn't hear any response. Worry immediately gripped the dutiful knight's chest, and he opened the door while announcing, "Pardon the intrusion. I'm coming in."
He stepped in and found her bed occupied. He opened the curtains to let in what little sunlight there was at the moment, although he noticed some thick clouds coming in from the distance and figured it was going to rain later today. Normally Connla was prudent enough to be up and dressed already, so he was curious to see her still in bed, evidenced by the unmoving lump beneath the blankets.
"I know you must be tired, but you mustn't keep your tutor waiting," Diarmuid said, grabbing the top of the blanket and pulling it back. To his astonishment, all he could see were some futons wrapped with string that had been left behind to mimic the child's sleeping form.
"Princess!?" he exclaimed, his heart leaping from shock. "Hey, Princess! Where are you!?"
He scrambled around in her room, searching every nook and cranny for the girl. When he couldn't find her, he barged out of her room and went to look for Fionn. He found his fellow knightly companion patrolling the halls. Diarmuid gasped and asked as quietly as he could, "Sir, are the king and queen awake yet?"
"They're in the throne room already. Apparently there's been word of a powerful Servant being summoned that the resistance forces have recruited, and Cuchulainn wants to deal with it as soon as possible," Fionn explained. "What seems to be the matter? You look unusually pale."
"The princess is missing."
"Oh, dear. This makes things rather complicated."
"I've looked everywhere for her, but she is nowhere to be found. She might have been kidnapped!"
"I wonder about that," Fionn frowned. "The West may have the forces to rival us, but I don't believe they are capable of sneaking past our lines just to kidnap a child."
"W-What are you suggesting!? That she ran away!?"
"Calm yourself. I'm not suggesting anything so sordid. In any case, you get the horses ready. I will inform Cuchulainn, then join you in the search."
"Of course!"
Diarmuid ran off toward the stables, while Fionn went to the throne room where he found Cuchulainn sitting upon the royal chair, with Medb leaning against him as if he were a human pillow. One of their strategists was explaining the situation to them when Fionn prostrated and said, "Sire, there's been a slight emergency."
"What is it?" Cuchulainn grumbled deeply.
"Diarmuid just informed me that Miss Connla has gone missing."
The king's languid expression didn't seem to change much. "… Is that so?"
"Oh, what a troublesome one she is," Medb complained. "Just when we were about to go kill that Heroic Spirit too."
"Worry not, your Highness," Fionn assured. "Diarmuid and I will search for her posthaste, so that you may focus your efforts on the conquest without worry."
"Say, Cu. Do you think Connie has betrayed us?" the queen wondered. "She has been looking rather depressed lately. Her tutors told me that she probably doesn't have what it takes to be a proper princess."
"P-Please do not say such absurd things!" the white-armored knight objected, irked that the queen was ignoring him. "Though she might not be in high spirits, there's no way she would abandon us like that! Besides, where would she run to anyway!? There is nowhere to go except west!"
Cuchulainn grin was dark and ominous as he murmured, "Perhaps that's precisely where she went."
"What…?"
"Stop wasting my time and go look for her. Drag her back kicking and screaming if you have to. Of course, if she really does sell herself out to the West, then it means she will no longer serve any purpose to me. Should she actually ally herself with them, then destroy her. Make her death as painless as possible, if you are able to do so."
"S-Sir!" Fionn gasped, but immediately stopped when he saw the fierce look in the king's ruby eyes. "I… understand, sir."
The anxious knight left his superiors be, but a strange thought crossed his mind.
Is it just me, or did Cuchulainn not look as surprised as I thought he would be?
The next day…
"Hah… hah… hah…"
Deep in the middle of central America's deserts, a deadly battle waged on between two powerful Heroic Spirits. On one side was Cuchulainn, clad in his characteristic black spiked armor and dark hood, wielding a deep purple version of the cursed spear Gae Bolg. On the other side was a handsome young man with fiery red hair that turned blonde at the crown of his head. He wore Indian battle attire consisting of a red shirt, black gloves with golden claws, black pants and boots, and a white cape around his waist. He wielded a large saber that was as tall as he was, currently covered in the blood of many Celtic warriors that he had slain previously before getting into his death match with Cuchulainn.
This man was known as Rama, the hero of the Indian epic known as Ramayana. He was a king and powerful warrior who was the reincarnation of the Hindu god Vishnu, and the mortal enemy of the Demon King Ravana. Along with an army of monkeys that he commanded, Rama fought against Ravana for 14 long years. Therefore, it stood to reason that Rama had the charisma and experience needed to rally an army to rise against an oppressive king. That was why Cuchulainn was eager to fight him as soon as possible so he never got the chance to rival him.
Although Rama was strong in his own right, he had only just been summoned to this doomed world a few days ago. Cuchulainn already had more than a year's worth of experience here, so he clearly had the upper hand. Rama gripped his blade and breathed hard, astonished by his opponent's inhuman might and viciousness.
"You're still moving?" the Mad King glowered. "Punks like you should learn when to get out of my sight."
Rama let out a battle cry and tried to strike again, but Cuchulainn effortlessly sidestepped him and slashed at his ribcage. The swordsman gasped and uttered, "So many curses cover your body… They are enough to shoulder an entire nation… Such skill has only been achieved through sheer determination and willpower! You could have conquered the very concepts of good and evil! So then why!? Why have you degraded yourself to be as repugnant and corrupted as Ravana!?"
"Good? Evil? I don't care about such things. All I do is kill my enemies, or die by their hands. The law of battle is the only thing I follow."
"Don't make me laugh! Your 'law' can only result in mountains of corpses! I can understand fighting an opponent of equal strength, but to do such things to innocent civilians who cannot even hope to challenge you is outrageous!"
"How utterly trivial. There's no point in judging an enemy's worth – 'strength' and 'weakness' are irrelevant on the battlefield. War is not meant to be fought humanely. Otherwise, go work at a ranch, punk."
"Ungh…" Rama seethed. "Why…? Why are you slaughtering everyone so callously? It's as if they're in the way of something…"
Cuchulainn closed his lips, appearing even colder than before. Then he glowered with a smile, "Yeah, they are. They're in the way of achieving my dream."
"Your dream…?"
"Ponder that after I run you through with my thorn of death."
"Damn you! Brahmastra!"
Rama used his sword to summon a huge halo of pure light, then hurled it at Cuchulainn. His injuries caused his aim to be off a bit, and the spearman took advantage of that by blocking it with his weapon. Confident that his enemy had used the last of his strength, the Celtic warrior called out the name of his own Noble Phantasm.
"Gae Bolg!"
Rama couldn't comprehend the excruciating pain that seared through his chest and destroyed 80% of his heart. Cuchulainn extracted the spear out of the young man's chest, but was surprised to see him still standing even though he was losing a tremendous amount of blood out of the ghastly hole.
"Tch. True heroes can be such a nuisance," Cuchulainn spit at the ground.
"No… I can't… die here…" Rama heaved, struggling to stay on his feet. "Not until… I see… Sita…"
The other warrior wondered who his fallen foe was talking about, but he didn't really care. Even then, he seemed to feel a tinge of kinship from those words. He grinned and murmured, "Too bad for you, but I can't die here either. Not until I forge the ideal world of peace and quiet that she can enjoy."
"W-Who is… she…?"
Before Cuchulainn could respond, that was when they heard a series of gunfire rounds peppering the dirt around them. Rama suddenly felt himself being carried away by a tanned man with long black hair, while Cuchulainn was busy deflecting the bullets with deft whirls of his spear.
"Servant response confirmed. Commencing countermeasures," a strange robot that clearly didn't belong in this time period droned.
"The West's toys, huh?" the Celtic warrior grumbled, annoyed that his slaughter was interrupted. He turned his attention from Rama toward the Western forces' mechanized infantry and a troop of soldiers that had joined the fray. "So you guys want to get in my way? Heh heh. That's fine. That just means you're my enemies now. Allow me to extend my appreciation for giving me this new battlefield by killing all of you!"
"Ungh… W-What's going… on…?" Rama grunted, his mind going in and out of consciousness.
"Just come with me!" the tanned man exclaimed. "We must trust them to distract him enough so that we may escape!"
Before he could comprehend what was happening, the Indian hero finally passed out.
At the very same time back in Ohio, Connla was perched high in a tree, looking very much like she was hiding from someone. She kept her frantic breathing to a minimum as she peered down at the grass below her. She heard the sound of horse hooves galloping into the immediate area, then spotted Diarmuid riding in on his black steed.
This is bad, she thought. How on earth did Sir Diarmuid catch up to me so quickly?
"Princess!" the knight called out after spotting her in her hiding spot. "You must not go any further! Please, return with me to the White House!"
"I can't!" she objected fearfully. "I just can't do it! I can't live up to everyone's expectations like this!"
"Whatever do you mean!? You have done nothing to disappoint the king and queen! They are fighting so that you may have a peaceful future!"
"That's a lie! I've heard all about it! Thousands of people have died such horrible, needless deaths! Even if Father and Queen Medb succeed in turning America into a Celtic nation for me, it won't change the fact that I will have blood on my hands!"
"You're wrong! We are all on your side, Princess! We will do everything in our power to support you after the war is over!"
"If you're really on my side, then you wouldn't be chasing me down like this! You would've accepted my decision and left me be! You're just trying to capture me so you can stay in Father's good books!"
"No! That's not true at all!"
"Stop trying to deceive me! I'm just an excuse for you all to go on a killing spree! I won't have anything further to do with such brutality! Just leave me alone!"
Connla then leapt from tree to tree to try and lose Diarmuid. He commanded his horse to pursue her, but he was finding her to be a lot faster than he imagined. Already she had broken out into the clearing and was dashing through the tall grass and foliage with all her might. Even with his horse running at full speed, he was having trouble keeping up with her. He remembered Cuchulainn saying that while Connla wasn't particularly powerful as a Servant, her speed and agility were legendary among all Heroic Spirits. Dairmuid had found this out the hard way when he agreed to be her combat instructor and dueled her a couple of times to gauge her abilities. That was why he wasn't too surprised about trailing behind her, so he needed to think of a way to corral her first.
Connla likewise understood that Diarmuid couldn't catch her in an honest to goodness chase, so he would have to rely on some sort of dirty tactic to trap her. She didn't want to give him the chance, so she looked around for any place that she could use to slip out of his sight. She passed over Scioto River by leaping from any rocks she could find jutting in the running water, then kept going west toward Miami River. Along the way though, she caught sight of an intense battle raging between some Western infantry versus the Celtic warriors and various monsters they brought. It was around 1000 strong on each side, and there were already plenty of casualties.
It's risky, but maybe I can lose him in the middle of this battlefield.
Connla decided to gamble everything on rushing headlong into the chaos, making sure she didn't interfere with the battle itself by weaving around the numerous soldiers so quickly that they failed to notice her passing by.
"Princess!" Diarmuid screamed, appalled that she would pull off such a daring stunt. He too wouldn't falter and galloped his horse straight into the foray. Unfortunately for him, he was a much easier target for the mechanized infantry to spot and shoot their guns at. The knight's steed was shot down in a hail of bullets, so he had to abandon the dead animal and leap off, wielding his dual lances and unleashing a battle cry as he stabbed them clean through one robot.
While Diarmuid was preoccupied, Connla managed to break through and escape without the soldiers getting in her way. She didn't stop though – she had to keep moving her feet and make as much distance as possible between her and her pursuer. The sounds of battle gradually faded to silence as she made her way toward Miami River.
I might actually be able to do this!
Confident that she had finally lost him, she kept going through the forest. Instead of going straight toward Denver though, she opted to try a slightly more roundabout route by going north and curving around. She figured it would confuse Diarmuid further, so she started to head northwest and broke through some thick bushes.
That was when she saw it.
Her jaw dropped out of reflex, and her entire body seized up. She was too shocked to speak. Even if she could, there were no words in any language to describe the sight before her innocent eyes. The wind picked up around her, and the rain pounded on her statue-like body.
There was a large gathering of people in this area she escaped to, but there was absolutely no bustle of activity. It was only natural, since everyone… was lying perfectly still along the grass and mud. They just laid there like discarded dolls, as if they were props for some cheap horror movie. But this was no sensational thriller – this was much too real.
Connla's stomach threatened to expel any bile that was boiling inside her, but she was too stunned to react accordingly. Men, women, boys, girls, of all ages and backgrounds, an entire town's worth of settlers with hopes and dreams of starting their families anew in this land of opportunity… To call them 'dead' was a great kindness for the ghastly sight that they had been reduced to.
The Celtic warriors had not been satisfied with just ending their lives. To make absolutely sure that they perished while sending a terrible message to those who opposed them, the barbaric soldiers went so far as to dismember these unarmed people as much as possible. Men were castrated, women had been brutally raped regardless if they were dead or alive, and children had various weapons skewed through their small bodies. Not even infants were spared from the massacre. Worst of all, the civilians were not even allowed to have an honorable death, shown by how horribly torn apart their faces were!
"Ah…" was all Connla could utter at this evil scene.
She collapsed onto her knees in front of a boy around her age, but there was no way she could tell what his appearance was when he was alive. Just as with everyone else, his face had been hacked and slashed so badly that parts of his skull could be seen, and his eyelids had been ripped off so that his eyeballs drooped out of the sockets. The Celts had utilized their weapons of war as tools for such naked brutality.
"Unnngh…"
Connla heard someone's groan nearby. A woman who had lost one of her arms and had been sexually assaulted stirred to life in this graveyard of blood and carnage. The young Servant immediately ran to her side and took a good look at her face as well. Although it was badly damaged like the others, at least her scalp and parts of her face remained relatively intact. She was probably the best-looking of the bunch, and that was saying a lot.
"A-Are you all right?" Connla whimpered.
"Uuuuh… It… hurts…"
Though she wanted to help this woman as much as she could, she actually had no idea how. She knew some Runes, but none of them dealt with healing and resurrection. She had only been trained to use spells that were offensive in nature, which were totally useless here.
"Please, stay still," she begged. "I'll try to find someone from the Western forces."
"Angh… I… can't…"
After a labored gasp, the victim no longer moved.
"Ma'am!? Ma'am! Please stay with me!"
Connla pressed her hands against the dead woman's chest, but she was much too late. She then stared at her hands. Copious amounts of blood painted her palms red. Bit by bit, her body started to tremble against her volition, starting with her fingers, then her hands, arms, torso, head and legs. Her mind was going through a roller coaster of emotions as she thought about what Medb told her earlier:
"This is all to create the perfect country for the three of us. We'll live as a royal family, command all those below us, and be etched into history as the world's greatest and most powerful family. Cu and I will take care of everything. You don't need to do anything except be the beloved princess of the Celts. You're the daughter of the most wonderful king in the world, so you have every right to live in the lap of luxury."
"This is… being done… for me…"
Her fingers shook so out of her control that she thought they would fall off her hands. She squeezed her eyes shut, desperate to block out the macabre sight from her memory.
"YAA~AAA~AAAHH!"
Connla let out a bloodcurdling scream as she pressed her bloodied hands against her cheeks, leaving long red streaks across her face. She heard footsteps rushing behind her, followed by Diarmuid's voice shouting, "Princess!"
The spearman hurried next to her and held her shoulders while exclaiming, "What happened!?"
"Ah… Ah… No… I don't…" Connla whimpered uncontrollably, and her shaking only got worse. Tears streamed down her cheeks and mixed with the blood.
He glanced down at the brutally mutilated corpses before them and realized what was going on. He scowled and muttered, "Damn it… You shouldn't have left the White House. Otherwise you would never have seen this."
"Father… is doing… this… for me…"
"Princess," Diarmuid tried to console her. "That's enough. Forget you ever saw this. I will escort you b-"
Just as he said this, the wind suddenly started to pick up, changing from a swift breeze into a terrible storm in a matter of seconds. Connla was the epicenter of this surprise tornado, and Diarmuid gasped as he was forced back by the sheer power surrounding her. He yelped and brandished Gae Buidhe and Gae Dearg out of reflex.
"What's going on!?" he shouted.
The bodies were scooped into the intensifying gale and flung out of sight. Grass and deep-rooted plants were pulled clean out. The sky turned greyer than before, as if nature itself was responding to the child's despair. The rain fell so fast that it threatened to shear off Diarmuid's skin and give him the same visage as those dead people. Connla remained kneeling there, her entire head and torso hunched forward pitifully. To the knight's horror, her form started to glow white, then blinked as if she had become a translucent ghost fading in and out of existence.
"Princess! Please calm yourself! None of this is your fault!" Diarmuid tried to shout at her, but the wind was so powerful that his voice couldn't carry itself over the cacophony. The storm's whistling and howling overcame all else, and the gusts were able to uproot old trees from the ground. Any trees fortunate enough to survive had their leaves and weaker branches torn off instead. Then, Connla lost all control of herself and threw her head back to unleash an immense scream that symbolized all of her fear, sorrow, and guilt.
"WAAAAA~AAAAAA~AAAAHHHH~HHH!"
After unleashing that primal cry, she lost consciousness and was swept up into the storm, appearing only as a glowing white dot to Diarmuid's eyes. He held on to a tree root as hard as he could while watching the little girl disappear from his vision.
"PRINCEEE~EEE~EEESS!"
Far in the western territory of what would be the state of Illinois 35 years from now, a slender woman stood upon the highest rock face she could find and observed the spectacle that was unfolding. Deep in Ohio, a record-breaking hurricane was spawning and increasing in raw power and intensity with each minute. Even from such a distance, she could feel the tornado's aftermath blowing around her as strong breezes that swayed her long dark mauve hair. The loose cloth attached to her equally purple bodysuit fluttered about as well. She didn't have much of an expression as she stared at the unnatural storm.
So this is what I had foretold, she thought somberly. When my final pupil's hands are covered in blood, she will become the medium for countless spirits to unleash their rage upon this world. That is the true nature of her Noble Phantasm – the less control she has of herself, the more she opens herself to allow the undead to wreck havoc with her powers.
She closed her eyes.
You idiot… You should have waited for me to come and get you out of there… No, I shouldn't solely blame her for this. I am just as responsible for not coming to rescue her from his grasp in time.
The woman spun a pair of red lances in her hands, then leapt from the rock and hurried along the terrain.
In any case, I have to find her and get her as far away from Cuchulainn as possible. She must not get involved with this Singularity any more than she already has.