FATE/NOVUS ORDO SECLORUM

"New Order of the Ages"

Chapter 8: Separation and Reunion

Ituha remained slumped over the same spot where she watched Fergus die, lost in a myriad of rampant thoughts. Nightingale said to her, "What's with the sullen reaction? You should be glad to know who you are at last."

"But," the child whispered despondently. "If he was telling the truth… then that means I'm the daughter of… the man who is trying to destroy this world…"

"Do you think he was lying?"

"… No. I think he was being honest. I just have a hard time believing it…"

"Good grief," Robin huffed. "It's just as we suspected – you really are the missing Celtic Princess."

She looked up at him in surprise. "You knew who I was?"

"Not quite. Call it a hunch if you will. We kept quiet because we didn't want you to be misled with our assumptions."

"I see."

"So you're the one Cuchulainn was talking about during our battle," Rama murmured. "I never would've imagined that he had a daughter… No, now that I think about it, there was a short tale where Cuchulainn fought and killed his only son."

Billy said, "It could be that history misremembered Connla as a 'son' when she was actually a 'daughter'."

"That's true. No wonder the idea never crossed my mind."

Ituha became quiet for a long moment, unsure of what to do or say next. Geronimo asked her, "Now that you know your True Name, are you beginning to remember anything?"

To everyone's dismay, she shook her head and replied, "Just because Mr. Fergus told me who I was doesn't mean I'll automatically regain my memories. It feels like I'm an empty canvas – I have plenty of 'knowledge', but I was summoned here with absolutely no 'memories'."

"Well at least it's a start. With your identity known, we can continue on that path until something comes to you. Would you like to be addressed by your birth name from now on?"

"No. I don't feel like I'm back to my original self yet."

"All right. Take it easy and pace yourself. There's no need to force yourself to remember everything."

"Okay," Ituha said, feeling a lot better and getting back to her feet. "I think there's something more important we need to talk about anyway. Mr. Fergus told Lord Rama where his wife is being imprisoned. That's what we needed to know to help with his treatment."

"Right," Nightingale said. "The patient is starting to reach his limit of endurance."

"Ugh…" Rama groaned. "I can't give up. I'll hold on as long as possible… until I see her again…"

"Not just 'until you see her'. You're going to live and tell her everything that you want to say to her. That is my duty as your caretaker – to make sure your long-awaited reunion becomes a reality."

"Of course… Hearing that is getting me fired up… Argh!"

Geronimo said, "Let's take this time to rest in town, then we'll discuss our next strategy this evening."

"I'll leave the war planning to you guys. I'm gonna go sing," Elizabeth said. "Just because we're in the middle of a fierce battle doesn't mean it's okay for me to get lazy with my practice!"

Nero smiled. "Umu! Then let's compare and see who is the better singer in this very moment!"

"You're on!"

Several hours later, night cloaked the abandoned village in darkness. The tiny lights of countless stars pierced through the blackness, and Ituha gazed upon them silently. She couldn't stop thinking about Fergus' revelation and how she was so interconnected with Cuchulainn, the worst enemy of the nation.

Everyone's being so nice to me, even though I'm a Celt. But… I'm sort of scared. Cuchulainn has done so many horrible things to the people of this land. He's needlessly killed thousands, perverted America's history, and even nearly killed Lord Rama. How can I possibly be the child of someone so ruthless? Does everyone think I'm the same way as him? Are they going to be wary of me from now on? Or perhaps is it I who should keep my distance for their safety?

She bunched her knees against her chest and sighed.

If I regain my memories, am I going to behave like Cuchulainn? Is this side of me going to disappear and be replaced with something unrecognizable to everyone?

Ituha suddenly jolted when she felt a hand touch her shoulder. She looked up to see Nero standing over her. The emperor smiled and asked, "How are you feeling?"

"Hm… Kind of confused."

"That's not good. You're a child – you should be full of joy and vigor, not sitting here looking depressed."

"I know, but there's been so much going on that I haven't had time to reflect on it."

"Geronimo told me everything about your amnesia. You're quite brave, taking on the enemy forces without asking for much in return. Then in my infinite grace, I shall brush your hair so that your glittering appearance belies the courage brimming within you!"

"No, that's not-"

Nero sat down and used her personal hair brush to comb through Ituha's long lavender locks. She straightened out some tangles and braided a couple of side locks, tying them together at the back so they resembled violet embroidery crowning the girl's head.

"There we go! Nothing but the most splendid of hair styling!" the emperor remarked.

"Um… thank you very much…"

"Umu! There's nothing to worry about! Just relax and leave everything to me!"

"Mm… It's getting pretty late. I think Mr. Geronimo said the meeting will be soon."

The two Servants headed into the center of town, where they found Billy maintaining a campfire in the middle of the dusty street. Nightingale had Rama lying on a collection of blankets while she was treating him, and the others sat around in circle formation around the gentle blaze. Ituha and Nero joined them, and they ate some food for a short while before getting down to business.

Geronimo began the strategy meeting by saying, "Let's go over what we know, especially since Lancer and Saber need to get caught up with the situation. The Celtic armies have taken over the original 13 American colonies and some additional territory in the east. They are bent on massacring men, women and children alike, although some of their Servants allow the civilians to go. Regardless of their intentions however, if the Celts continue advancing like this, those people will die anyway. Meanwhile, Edison has been taking in those refugees and forcing them to work in factories to produce the mechanized infantry. You could say that thanks to the chaotic nature of the situation, smaller groups of Servants such as us are more able to move around freely.

"Now, the most important part is that the Celts are using Washington as their base. After all, to further humiliate the defeated, an invader would want to lower morale by occupying the capital city. That's why Edison had to establish Denver as his stronghold, and he is accompanied by the occult philosopher Helena Blavatsky, especially since they knew each other in life. They also have Karna on their side, though it's a mystery as to why he would assist Edison. Those three and the infantry are compensating for the lack of Servants, which the Celts are able to boast about.

"Since we've established that Washington is the enemy base, the only question is how to proceed from here. Ituha, since you are familiar with how Celtic soldiers behave, I would like to hear your insight on any potential patterns they have and what we could exploit."

"Hmm," the child murmured dubiously. "Before I say anything about that, shouldn't we address our own weakness first? I mean, look at who we are."

"You're got a point. Robin and I are lone wolves, Billy's an outcast, Elizabeth's an Anti-Hero, you're a Celtic traitor… Our group truly does consist of some disorganized characters, a fact which the Celts may conversely try to take advantage of. We're not exactly shining examples of heroism when the only tactic we can deploy is assassination, but it's the best option we've got. We need to pick off any of their Servants first before going for the leaders."

"Oh, similar to what that muscle-man was doing," Nero said. "He told me that he had offed three other Servants before trying to murder me."

"Right," Geronimo agreed.

"Hold on now," Elizabeth frowned. "You say you're going to assassinate the Celtic Servants, but there's more than one holed up in Washington, isn't there? Do you even have any idea how many there are?"

"Not necessarily, dragon girl. Even if we had an Assassin in our group, not even Presence Concealment would be able to help them infiltrate the enemy stronghold. That's why I wanted to ask Ituha if there were any general patterns we could use as a basis for slipping in."

The young Archer nodded, then explained, "Celts are not known for employing strategy due to their belligerent nature. Also, if you think about the invasions we dealt with, they are very haphazard in their movements."

"You mean they do as they please?" Robin asked.

"Yes. Like I said before, Celts follow an overall mission, but how they accomplish it is up to the individual. You could say that while they're ferocious, they're also extremely disorganized."

"That's the opposite of Edison's philosophy – absolute uniformity and dedication to a higher goal at the cost of losing one's individuality."

"Yeah. In fact, I don't even think the idea of protecting a single place would cross their minds if they're given such freedom. I believe they'd be more interested in going off and fighting the war than defending their home and superiors."

"Aah!" Geronimo gasped, as if he had an epiphany. "If you begin thinking like a Celt, then you'll realize that they only see a fortress as a place to live. If it falls, they can always establish another one so long as a leader is around to tell them where to build it. But if there are no leaders to give such orders, the lower-level grunts will lose focus, giving Edison's forces the chance to mop them up. Even so, at the end of the day, it's all still a gamble. It's impossible to defend the West, so an unexpected strike at the enemy's heart is the only way to go."

"I don't like the prospects, but at least it's a plan," Billy said.

Robin smiled shakily. "I'll take any chance, even if it's only a 1% likelihood of success."

"Sounds quite doable," Nero said.

"Yep. The sooner we get this done, the better. I want to get back to organizing my show," Elizabeth agreed.

Nightingale added, "If Washington is the source of the illness plaguing this land, then it must be excised immediately. However, my priority is the treatment of this patient."

Rama moaned, "I wish I could help, but I'd only get in the way like this."

Geronimo declared, "That is what I want to get at. I propose that we split into two groups – one will go to Alcatraz to find Rama's wife, while the other will go east to assassinate the Celtic Servants. Nightingale will take the lead for the Alcatraz group, and I will do the same for the Washington group. We need to select the correct Servants for both tasks, since the assassination will be extremely dangerous."

"Got it," Nightingale said. "Naturally, I'll be bringing Ituha with me. I am still responsible for her psychological treatment, plus I will not allow a child to go with you on such a sordid mission."

"I was going to say the same thing myself," the Apache warrior smiled lightly. "If I bring Robin and Billy with me, that will be enough Archers to provide support fire. The question is what Nero and Elizabeth want to do. The Alcatraz group only has Nightingale and Ituha, so they need a close-range fighter to balance them out."

Nero piped in, "Then Elizabeth, you should go with them."

"Huh? Why me?" the young Lancer asked. "I don't have a problem wiping out the pigs who are interfering with my dreams."

"He he. While your vigor is something to behold, you can't exactly sing at your loudest during an assassination. Besides, there's one fundamental difference between us, other than our talent as idols."

"What would that be?"

"I'm Nero Claudius!"

"… Meaning?"

"As an emperor, your life is full of nothing but conspiracies! Poison or be poisoned, control or be controlled, execute or be executed, it's all thoroughly unpleasant! That's why I'm accustomed to assassinating and being assassinated! Hah… I feel heartbroken just saying that… Alas, the fact remains that I have more experience with such a bitter world than you do! Go on now, you all, applaud for me!"

"That's not exactly something to brag about, little emperor," Robin chided.

"Believe me, I wasn't trying to pontificate. Anyway, my Imperial Privilege ability should give me temporary Assassin-like skills. Think of it as a secret live performance that will throw the curtain on our enemy's blind rampage!"

"I get it now," Elizabeth said. "Then that's fine. I'll go with the nurse and the little puppy to Alcatraz. You better come back from this, Nero! We still haven't settled our score on whose talent as an idol's is greater!"

"Umu! This assassination will be a show that America will never forget!"

"Very good," Geronimo said. "Now that we have established our teams, we will depart early tomorrow morning."

"Please be careful," Ituha told him.

"Of course we will."

"Before I forget," Robin said and tossed the child a strange device. "I plucked a couple of these off of some scrapped mechs earlier. They're communication devices that we can use to talk to each other from long distance. It'd be best if you didn't try to contact us since we'll need to be as silent as possible. On the other hand, we'll give you a call and let you know our status."

"Okay."

"We need to be careful as well," Rama said. "There's the high possibility of a Servant keeping Sita inside Alcatraz."

"Mm," Ituha nodded. "Then we should get some rest before leaving."

In south Georgia, Fia-Leanbh huddled herself within the entrance to a cavern obscured by a gentle waterfall. She slept soundly, lulled by the constantly pouring water, not looking much different than a small white wolf taking a nap. It had been a harrowing experience for her, first having to fight Cuchulainn before being forced to escape from Scathach. She only barely managed to evade the warrior woman due to her familiarity with the terrain plus remembering that she possessed some knowledge of Celtic Runecraft that allowed her to obscure her figure.

Thanks to those two encounters however, Fia was starting to run out of energy. She had been killing any Celtic scouting groups she came upon to feed on their organs for sustenance, but with two high-level Servants now aware of her presence, she needed to be both careful and resourceful. That was why she slept in such a remote place before thinking about going back out to do more hunting.

Fia experienced some nightmares of herself being imprisoned in a castle – not in the dungeons, but in a beautiful room decorated with flowers and gold trimming. The doors and windows were always locked, and the walls were see-through like glass so that faceless people passing by could ogle at the elegant prisoner like she was some kind of freak show performer. Numerous guards were stationed around the glass room, and plenty of indescribable monsters also kept a watchful eye to make sure she didn't try to run away. She was being put on display for everyone to look at, with no one to rely on for comfort or companionship. She screamed and clawed at the glass over and over again, but no one responded to her desperate cries for freedom with sympathy. Rather, they all shared a sort of vapid mirth as they stared and giggled at the unfortunate prisoner.

The nightmare caused Fia to stir awake, leaving behind a sickening feeling of dread and loneliness. Although she couldn't voice it coherently, she knew she was alone in this world and had to survive on her own. If she had any sentience, the isolation would have driven her crazy. Without the ability to think rationally, she could function like any other animal and focus on nothing but finding her next meal.

"…"

Fia emerged from behind the waterfall and inspected her surroundings. Leaves and grass swayed in the breeze. The only signs of life around were small animals like birds, squirrels and rodents. She yawned, then subconsciously thought about what to do next. She was concerned about finding more Celts to murder when there could be more powerful people like Cuchulainn and Scathach who could defeat her. Perhaps if she laid low and only hunted the local wildlife, any heed to her presence would fade away gradually. Then she could go back and pick off the soldiers more carefully this time, making sure not to draw too much attention to herself again.

Fia sniffed the air, using her heightened sense of smell to detect any animals nearby. She thought she smelled a grizzly bear nearby, so she prepared to go after it.

"Wait."

The child Berserker immediately stopped. Landing near her was Scathach, who had concealed her presence this entire time without Fia noticing. The feral girl grit her teeth and got into battle position.

"I don't intend to fight you," Scathach said calmly. "Look, I've brought you some food."

"…?"

The warrior woman showed her several demon boar carcasses nearby.

"I only want to talk to you. If I give you this food, will you listen to me?"

Fia wasn't sure what to do. The scent of fresh meat made her stomach grumble, and she approached the dead beasts with curiosity. Her mouth watered from the delicious sight of red flesh. She ignored any pretext and began munching away, digging her face and teeth right into the bloody meat.

"Good girl," Scathach murmured, stroking Fia's back. "Nothing calms a raging beast like a succulent meal. Now, I want you to listen to me carefully. There's someone very important I want you to meet. If you come with me, you won't have to worry about being attacked by that scary man anymore."

Fia looked up at her, seemingly perplexed by the woman's promise. Normally she couldn't understand human language, but Scathach was using a series of Runes that mimicked the Animal Communication skill that certain Servants possessed. Fia tilted her head, as if quietly asking, "Who is this person you want me to meet?"

"She's a young girl just like you. No, it's more accurate to say that she's your missing half," Scathach explained. "Once you see her, you'll understand right away. I need you two to reunite if I am to resurrect my lost pupil and safeguard her from her insane father."

Fia still didn't understand what she was talking about. Scathach patted her head and said, "It's fine if you can't comprehend my words. All I want is for you to believe in me and follow me. I'll make sure you're properly fed along the way."

"…"

The Berserker finished eating the last of the boar carcasses, then wiped her mouth clean of blood and stood before the Lancer. Scathach smiled, knowing that Fia was ready to accompany her.

"Good. Now, we must make haste," she declared. "The war grows ever more intense with each passing day. We must rendezvous with my comrade, who is looking for your other half as we speak, and get you both to a safe place. Follow me, and do not stray from the path."

With those instructions, the two Servants leapt into the forest and disappeared from the area.

Morning arrived, and the team of Servants divided into their assigned groups. Geronimo said, "We'll be heading to Washington now."

"Likewise, we will go to Alcatraz and find Rama's wife," Nightingale said.

"Our time together was short, but quite enjoyable."

Ituha murmured, "You make it sound like we'll never meet again, Mr. Geronimo."

His features turned slightly grim. "I suppose I do sound like that. Don't worry, we will see each other again."

"Relax, it'll be over before you know it," Billy grinned. "Just sit tight and wait for the good news!"

"You better take care of our little princesses there, Nightingale," Robin said to the nurse.

Elizabeth barked, "Hey! I'm the one who's going to be taking care of the puppy, got it!?"

"Right, right. Well then, time to get to work."

Nero said to Ituha, "Take care of Elizabeth for me, okay? I want to be able to see her again so we can settle our score about who number one is."

"Yes, ma'am."

With their good-byes said, the two groups went their separate ways. Nightingale took the lead as she, Ituha and Elizabeth turned back west and retraced their steps through the towns they previously passed by. By the time they returned to the first town, Rama was showing visible signs of strain and his skin was turning deathly pale.

"Let's take a short break so I can heal the patient back up," Nightingale declared. "Though all things considered, he really is beginning to lose his endurance. The necrosis in his heart is advancing faster than I can treat it."

"Ungh…" the swordsman gasped pitifully. "I already promised you, didn't I? Until I see Sita again… I won't let this kill me…"

"Your tenacity really is something else. An ordinary man would have been mentally destroyed already."

"It's my duty as the king of Kosala to see her again… Yet, she wound up being harmed for that reason…"

"What do you mean?" Ituha asked.

"Ugh… I suspected her of infidelity… and tested her twice…"

"Seriously?" Elizabeth muttered sourly. "What kind of faithful girl enjoys being treated like that?"

"That's not it…" Rama protested. "It was my people… who suspected her. Even though we had that ceremony… it wasn't enough to appease them… so I had no choice… but to exile her…"

"Whaa~aat!? What kind of bull-crap is that!?"

"So in the end, you suspected her," Nightingale said with all the bluntness of a baseball bat being smacked on the cranium.

"That's right! You're terrible!"

"Please, you two," Ituha implored. "Lord Rama isn't feeling well."

"No, they're right," he groaned, gasping through the excruciating pain. "I valued my own self-protection above my faith in her… When a king ages, their priorities change. In youth, kings are self-indulgent, but as they grow older, they must learn to discard those luxuries in order to keep their citizens happy. Whether it is family, money, power, or love, such things must be tossed aside in the name of dignity."

"Then it is all the more imperative that you see your wife again," Nightingale said. "With none of those hassles to hold you back in this world, this is your chance to prove your unyielding love for her. Overcoming death itself is the greatest accomplishment a man can achieve for his beloved."

"Yeah, I know. I'm fine now. Let's keep moving."

"Got that right," Elizabeth smirked. "At the very least, she deserves to give you a nice slap on the face. I could lend her my microphone if she wanted something more painful."

"A girl's heart really is delicate, isn't it…?"

Another day later, the Servants journeyed as far west as they could. They reached the area that would be instated as California over 65 years from now, arriving on the beaches where the city of Oakland would be established in the future. The landscape was pristine, with no sign of the modern era that would change the land into a bustling metropolis.

Ituha placed her hand over her forehead and panned her eyes across the water, searching for the prison island. She pointed to a small mass of land jutting out from the ocean and said, "That must be it. But how are we going to get there?"

"It's not a very big island," Rama said. If he looked bad yesterday, his condition was at its absolute worst today. "It'd be difficult to land without being seen…"

"Then we just don't bother with the stealth and go for it," Elizabeth declared boldly. "More importantly, I am NOT swimming! The seawater will ruin my skin!"

"The currents are strong, and the water must be freezing," Ituha murmured. "Let me see if I can find us a boat."

She ran around the beach for a short while until she came across an elderly man who was calmly fishing at a nearby pier. She quickly explained the situation to him, then returned to her allies and said, "I managed to procure us a boat. But that gentleman said something really disturbing."

"What is it?" Nightingale asked.

"Apparently there are 'demons' on Alcatraz. He hinted that they may actually be dragons."

"Huh. That doesn't sound too bad," Elizabeth shrugged. "I'm part dragon myself. I can take them on no problem."

"Servants and dragons regardless, we must go. The patient has nearly exhausted the last of his strength," Nightingale warned them. "We mustn't be afraid of battle. We'll push through and reunite Rama with Sita posthaste."

"Yes. Let's hurry," Ituha said.

Just as the heroes suspected, there was one Servant standing guard at Alcatraz. He was known as Beowulf, the Scandinavian hero who slew a grendel with his bare hands. He was summoned here as a Berserker, appearing in his peak condition when he was a youth. His attire didn't consist of anything except for a pair of black pants, bandages around his wrists, and a pair of handcuffs with a very long thread of chains. What stood out for him were the generous number of huge scars etched all over his face and body. He wielded a pair of broad swords, Hrunting and Naegling, although it was said that his true power did not lie within using them.

Beowulf planted one bare foot on the stone balustrade and squinted as he saw the boat with Nightingale's group approaching from mainland America. He analyzed who they were and estimated their capabilities based on their appearances and the weapons they carried. He figured that since Rama was fatally injured, only the three females would prove to be a worthy challenge for him.

"Hey come on, just three of them? Two of them look like little brats as well. That's hardly enough for a good scrap," he complained with a disappointed frown. He took a closer look at the Servants however and paused. His eyebrows pursed in curiosity as he focused his attention on Ituha.

Wait a minute. That kid looks awfully familiar…

After some recollecting, he eventually matched her face with someone else's. He widened his eyes in surprise as he murmured, "Well, I'll be. It's Cuchulainn's kid, isn't it? The rascal that Medb is calling the Celtic Princess or whatever?"

His mind drifted back to when he became acquainted with the little girl.

Two months ago…

It was the middle of the night. Darkness enveloped the White House, save for rows of softly glowing candles in numerous sconces that lit up the hallways. Beowulf returned inside after doing some strength training by himself, and he wiped his brow with a cloth. Satisfied that he had enough of his workout, he headed for his room to get some sleep. He stretched his arms and let out an unrefined yawn as he turned the corner, only to stop immediately when he came upon an unusual sight.

Just outside her bedroom, Connla sat on the floor in a fetal position, hugging a pillow close to her face and chest like a stuffed doll. It was rather chilly, yet she only wore her nightgown and left her legs and feet bare. Her eyes were closed, so she either was asleep or trying to pass out there.

"Hey," Beowulf whispered and shook her shoulder. She opened her eyes and looked at him wearily as he asked, "What are you doing out here?"

Connla didn't respond immediately. She wasn't sure who the man was at first, but then remembered seeing his face a few times, especially during meals. She hadn't been told much about him other than he was a famous beast slayer from the Scandinavian region of Europe. Normally she would stay far away from someone who frightened her with his countless scars and barbaric countenance, but she was too tired to react with her usual hesitance at this moment. Despite his normally rough and tumble behavior, his concerned expression told her that he had no intention of beating her up or anything.

She rubbed her eyes and mumbled, "I couldn't sleep…"

"Why not?"

Connla glanced over at her door, then got up and showed him inside. She suddenly averted her eyes from the décor and hid behind Beowulf. After taking a good look around, he figured out what had made her so upset.

"Oh, I get it," he realized.

Lined along the walls were numerous statues of dragons, chimeras, gargoyles, serpents and mythical creatures, all lit up by sparse candlelight to create a nightmarish scene of monsters glaring at their prey from the darkness. He was just glad not to find a grendel monument anywhere, or his blood would really have boiled. He folded his arms and muttered, "So this is Medb's idea of interior design, huh?"

"Mm…"

Beowulf grumbled, glaring at the draconic effigies. "That bimbo has some seriously bad taste. I can put up with it throughout the rest of the place, but in a little kid's room? That's just low."

Without any warning, he suddenly rammed his bulky fists through the statue and smashed it into thousands of fragments. The astonished Connla quietly watched as he continued bashing the gargoyle monuments and chimera figures, reducing them to powdery rubble. After a few minutes of demolishing the statues, Beowulf cracked his knuckles and said with a satisfied grin, "There you go. No more creepy crawlies to keep you awake."

"Um… I, uh…"

"What, cat got your tongue?"

"No, I just wasn't expecting you to…"

"Did I startle you? My bad. Think of this as a chance to do a little remodeling. Don't expect me to clean up though."

"N-No, I'll do that," Connla uttered.

"Good. I'm gonna be stationed somewhere starting tomorrow, so you take care of yourself. Make sure you tell that crazy vixen to get you some flowers and books instead of those god-awful statues, 'kay?"

"Sure…"

She watched him leave, then stared at the mess he left behind.

The present…

"So she's coming here as the enemy, huh?" Beowulf said to himself. "I heard she was actually pretty good as a Lancer. Maybe I'll give her skills a test."

He turned towards the wyverns who were perched all along the prison facility, then shouted, "All right, you bastards! Time to go to work!"

The dragons roared in response to their commander's order and flapped their mighty wings, taking flight and diving down towards the heroes.

Inside her dark, isolating cell, a beautiful young woman tilted her head up when she felt a tinge of energy bursting in her chest. She looked almost identical to Rama except she kept her long orange hair in a pair of pigtails, and she had a bow as her weapon rather than a sword. She got to her knees and gasped lightly.

"… Lord Rama?"