"Your hand is better now." Irisviel spoke and her voice was clogged with emotion. Guilt. "And… I'm sorry for accusing you so quickly. I should have trusted you more. I should have known that you would never, ever shoot me." The worst part was knowing that Maiya had crippled herself out of loyalty. She could have waited for someone to inevitably come searching for her, and would have saved herself much pain and suffering if she had. But Maiya hadn't. She had soldiered on, torturing herself through the hours of the night and sacrificing her own hand to be able to come back and inform them that Assassin was responsible for everything.
"It's fine." Maiya said awkwardly. "He fooled me too. I knew that he could go invisible, but to think that he could disguise himself that perfectly; that was unexpected." But she should have anticipated it. She should have known that the enemy would have more than one trick, she should been more vigilant. Less would have gotten her killed on the battlefield or on assignment. "Next time, we'll be ready. Try and think of some password or something that only you and I and Saber and Kiritsugu will know so that we can verify our identities."
"Alright…" Iri made for the door. "I'll tell Kiritsugu that you're okay now. He should be here soon." She left the room silently and slumped to the ground as soon as the door was closed. What was supposed to be a simple search of the grounds had led to all three of them, Saber, Maiya, and herself to be terribly injured. Saber had been burned, Maiya had nearly lost her hand, and she had been shot three times… without the healing powers of Avalon she would have died. Saber would still be convalescing, and even with her own healing magic, Irisviel was not sure that she could have healed Maiya's degloved hand so seamlessly.
The danger was real. There were people trying to kill her, trying to kill her husband, her friends; and the hopeless feeling of not being able to do anything settled in. The Servants… the Servants were monsters. There was no use in disputing that. Even Arturia, who was so noble and kind and wanted to do the right thing, was an anachronism. She was not meant to be here. None of the Servants were. And yet here she was. Irisviel von Einzbern, a homunculi crafted by the Einzbern family. She was here to fight in a War that no one on the Earth could claim to fully understand; against men and women who were head and shoulders above the rest of the world, able to claim divine lineage or works of that shaped the course of human history. She felt outclassed… she was outclassed. They all were.
Rin sat as close to the wall as she could. Out in the dimly lit alleyway, old street lights shining a sickly shade of yellow, coppery green, there was a man with red hair leading a group of people. Young women and children, all following calmly like that one story of the Pied Piper of Hamlin… it was creepy to watch them with their glazed over eyes and dead smiles and shuffling, stupid gait. Worst of all was that Rin recognized some of the children as members of her class and one of the women was the cashier at the local general store where her mother had bought candy for her one day… she knew these people and something, something, about the man leading them was off. Could this be the killer that the news had been talking of?
"Come on guys! I said I'd show you some real magic, right?" The leader of the crowd of a dozen or so followers waved his arms enthusiastically and shouted.
The girl, still hiding frowned at the mention of magic. Was this the same sort of thing that her father had promised to teach her? Was that magic, the beautiful light show and display of power and wisdom, the ultimate expression of human knowledge and goodness; could the magic that the man was claiming to wield be the very same magic?
Crouched alongside her, the familiar figure of the pink and gold ghost stared forward, its usual fierce expression turned even more hostile, flecks of hot spittle issued from its mouth at every growl. It almost seemed ready to fight…
"Quiet down!" Rin whispered furiously. Even if the ghost could not be heard by anyone else, the noise was unnerving her. Even the familiar beating of her eternal heart felt to be too loud, surely the man would hear her, discover her and take her along… The compass in her hand glowed bright red and seemed to point her in the direction of the ambling crowd of people. There was fear and doubt in her mind that she would not be able to save these people. But near the back of crowd a patch of brown, just ordinary brown caught her eye. It was a shade she had seen a hundred times before, one laden with memories of good times and happy, carefree days… it was Kotone, her best, sweetest friend. And she was in danger…
Instead of thinking, she ran forward, ducking under the limp arms and shuffling legs of the small crowd of people, ignoring the leading man's cry of surprise. She barely noticed the ghost following her, knocking people aside and roaring wolfishly in spectacular fashion. Bloodthirsty noise that no one but Rin could hear. It unlocked something primal in her, a fervent desire to overcome all obstacles and complete her task. The confidence of a lion and ferocity of a wolverine. Rin ran for her friend and grasped her tightly.
"Kotone, are you okay?" Rin asked but the only answer was a low, dead moan. Her friend was dead to the world, less responsive than a rock even. All she did was stand and stare…
"And who might you be?" A voice from behind her. The man who had been leading the group of dazed followers. "My name is Ryuunosuke Uryuu. Are you lost, little girl?"
Rin stood protectively in front of her friend, arms outstretched in a meager display of strength. "Where are you taking these people? Kotone is my friend, and I know she wouldn't just follow a stranger anywhere! What did you do to her?"
Uryuu threw his hands up in a shrug. There was a small bottle in his hands with a spray attachment screwed to the top. "I didn't do anything… don't you know what we all need to breathe?"
Before Rin could even ponder his words, the man pointed the bottle, holding it like a handgun. "We all need to breath, little girl." His face was twisted into a supremely self assured smile and the trigger was pulled. A glossy cloud of perfume floated into being and Rin felt as if she was in the presence of something holy almost like an angel descending to earth, radiance scalding her eyes and the smell of some otherworldly aura filled her body, replacing all anger and discontent—
She was jerked back a meter or two, a smooth, muscular hand around her face, blocking her nose and mouth, keeping her from breathing and breaking her from her stupor. It was the ghost that had been following her. It seemed to glow in the light, and Rin knew that it was more than just some ghost that had been haunting her. It was friendly and it thought for itself, it existed to help her. A servant of sorts that would stand by her side until time died and history faded.
Away from the cloud of perfume and it's beautiful, sinister smell; Rin felt her head clear. There were no more church bells ringing. No choir of castrati to serenade the world. Once the smell cleared, Rin knew that whatever paradise had been conjured up was false. The most beautiful lie ever told…
"I should really name you, shouldn't I?" She spoke to the floating, wolf headed spirit to her right. "But maybe after I beat this guy. I need to save Kotone first."
"Uh… the fuck?" Uryuu stared at his bottle in disbelief, as if the world had betrayed him in the most fundamental way. "Caster said that it would work once someone smelled it… maybe it wasn't enough? The perfume isn't even completely done yet anyways… yeah! That's it! Just not over yet." He turned back to Rin and looked deadly serious. Murderous. "Look kid. You're going to need to come with me now. I don't know what kind of shit you just pulled, but," with a gargantuan effort, Uryuu schooled his lips into a smile again. He reached into his back pocket covertly and palmed a folding knife and expertly opened it. "You want to have fun with everyone else, right?"
There wasn't a chance in Hell that she'd be taking that offer. She didn't quite know what to do, but Uryuu was drawing closer. Taking slow, confident steps with a sadistic grin on his face and spray bottle and knife in hand.
"Come on. Just come with us. It'll be fun."
Rin stumbled backwards and fell against Kotone who had been standing stock still. A bit of drool ended up on the back of her neck, but Rin didn't care. There was less than ten feet between herself and the serial killer and the only thing in the way was her ghostly friend, golden accents glowing in the dim light and pink feeling so, so warm.
When Uryuu lunged, knife poised to carve away at Rin's soft, young flesh and put an end to her short life; she blinked and froze accepting her fate. Calm as a hindu cow. The knife never came and Rin didn't even bleed. The sound of breaking glass and the hard packing of flesh on flesh came and Uryuu fell to the ground, clutching his bruised face. Something had hit him. Not the girl, but something he couldn't see. The rest of the crowd, the dead crowd made placid by the prototype of Caster's Bottled Love, they seemed to not notice his trouble. But Uryuu… he pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the small, stinging cuts on his hand from perfume seeping into gouges made by the shards of broken glass.
"Fuck! The perfume!" Caster had mixed a single drop of his most precious mixture, the nearly finished Bottled Love with a pint of rectified alcohol. Even diluted as it was, the resulting mixture had smelled like heaven and angel feathers… It had been important, a symbol that Caster trusted Uryuu above everyone else. And he had lost it now…
Rin opened her eyes at the noise and was glad to be alive. While the killer couldn't possibly see what had happened, Rin knew that her ghostly friend had saved her. The ghost stood there, snarling and biting at the air with his large, frothing wolf jaws. Like always, the ghost looked ready to kill, but there was a distinct aura of sincere anger emanating from the shade that hadn't been there before Rin had been threatened. But this murderous intent gave her a strange knowledge that she was capable of great things… almost like the world owed her a favor and she was out to collect.
"You fucking kid!" Uryuu yelled and scrambled forward, only for a invisible for to catch him by the throat and fling him backwards into a wall. "What the fuck man?" He rubbed his head and found a trickle of blood. Across the street stood his 'cargo', enough girls for Caster to finish up his potion and some smaller children for his own personal enjoyment. The little girl, the one who had stood up to him, stood protectively in front of the one who was her friend. Uryuu didn't know how, but there was something, magical maybe, keeping him from getting to her. From cutting and spilling her blood and teaching her how the world really was… he cursed once more and ran, cutting his losses.
Rin had won, completely. She turned to Kotone and hugged her. All the while thinking the words Hungry Like the Wolf, the name of her ghost.
Thankfully, Saber was quick enough to catch Irisviel before she hit the floor.
"Irisviel? Are you okay?"
The homunculus was clutching at her head in obvious discomfort.
"Yes. I'm… I'm fine. But it seems that we have a guest." Hopefully this visit didn't end up like the last one. Maiya and Kiritsugu were gone for the night. Kiritsugu had given some vague reason for it, but Irisviel suspected that he simply wanted time alone. The fact that she had come so close to death and that Maiya had been so badly injured must have sat badly with the Magus Killer.
"Do you think it's Assassin again? That he might be back to finish the job?"
Irisviel shook her head. Even she couldn't detect Assassin's aura; and since it had been revealed that the Frenchman could perfectly mimic others, she assumed that he could mimic their magical signatures, how they 'felt', as well as their appearances.
"There are three of them. We should get ready for a fight, they'll be coming in through the main entrance."
The two women ran to the atrium to greet their guests, surrounded by the gilded walls and warms lights of the wall lamps. Beneath their feet lay a luxurious red carpet that stretched from the top of the staircase to the bottom. A palace fit for a King. Their very own mini-Versailles.
"They're here." And sure enough, a second after Irisviel spoke, there came a sound from outside; the roaring of bulls and spinning of wheels. Thunder shouting and lightning crackling. The doors broke down, smashed apart by the trampling of two huge bulls, black and angry and quivering with power. Rider's Gordius Wheel. A massive chariot pulled by divine beasts. The lightning was said to be the blessing of Zeus himself…
"We're here!" A towering man jumped down from the chariot, holding a huge barrel that sloshed about loudly. With a laugh he grabbed his shorter companion by the collar and dropped him to the floor. "Up, boy! Our hosts have come to greet us already! It is poor manners to not meet them face to face."
But the boy looked sick, his face was tinged green…
Calmly, sedately, a third man got off the chariot. Opting to step off the back instead of jumping the side as Rider did. Irisviel and Saber both recognized him as Valentine, the Archer class Servant. He was dressed today in a maroon suit and matching pants over a plain white shirt. No tie, but two huge diamonds served as his cufflinks. Rider was dressed more casually in a plain t-shirt with a logo on the front, it seemed ready to rip at the seams with every rippling movement of Iskander's muscles.
"Presenting Waver Velvet and Iskander of Macedonia." Valentine made a small bow and smiled. "Thank you for inviting us tonight."
Saber bit back a curse. Invited? They hadn't been invited here! For Iskander's talk of manners and honor, the Servant seemed to disregard what customs he wanted to and keep the ones he liked.
"You weren't invited here." Irisviel put on a strong face. "If you're looking for a battle, I suggest you leave. You're on our territory and Saber and I won't hesitate to remove you forcibly. We might be allies, but we aren't exactly friends."
Archer kept a solemn expression on his face. He more than Rider seemed reluctant to have come, even though, as Irisviel said, he had struck a truce/alliance with Saber. "This is a matter of conscience and worldly responsibility. We," the President said, gesturing to Rider and himself, "would like to know her personal goals upon reaching the Grail."
The two women shared a look before turning back to face their guests.
"I suppose that it would be alright… it's really Saber's decision. If she wants to talk, I won't stop her." Irisviel left, walking back to her room.
The four stood in the atrium. The guests pretending to admire the decoration and Saber debating with herself on whether or not she wanted to speak with her guests. Rider and Archer had both been rulers like she had. The first was an unmatched general who conquered all of the world worth conquering, and the second had ushered a period of prosperity and stability for his country that continued even today. She felt woefully small next to these two men, their time as leaders of their respective countries outstripped her own small success and of course, as far as Saber knew, neither Archer nor Rider had failed as spectacularly as she had…
"Saber, take us somewhere we may talk. I happened to notice a sort of courtyard as we were flying overhead… it would be a perfect place to have our summit!" Rider picked up his barrel and stood waiting. "Let us hurry, the night will not last forever."
Arturia sighed and motioned them over as she began to navigate the empty hallways toward the garden. "Don't order me about, Rider. Remember that you are a guest, and that I am every bit a King that you are." The last part was said with little feeling. Hollow words that only Saber knew to be posturing.
But Rider seemed chastised enough, certainly he seemed impressed that what seemed to be a little girl had told him off. And so he laughed and then apologized. "My apologies, King of Knights. I forget where I am…"
Soon enough they reached the courtyard. An expansive, open air space with four massive pathways making a cross, empty space filled with flora from all over the world kept alive through the cold of autumn by magic. Their soft scents filled the air in the most alluring way… It was a perfect place for a ruler to meet with their equals.
"Where did Archer go?" Saber asked waspishly. They were in the courtyard now, but one of their number was missing. Had Valentine wandered off into the castle without supervision?
Rider pointed at the ground. There was a heap of fabric laying there, limp. Broad stripes of red and white and blue, the blue studded with stars… it was a flag. "He's gone to get chairs."
"How…" Saber thought of words to say but none came to mind. Chairs? Valentine had just disappeared, and judging by Rider's reaction, the flag had something to do with the President's disappearance. Was this Valentine's power? "That's very considerate of him." She and Rider and Waver settled to the floor.
"We'll wait until Archer is back to start our conversation." Rider crossed his legs, and Saber thought he looked absolutely ridiculous in that too small shirt of his. The man pushed the boy sitting next to him forward, that one had said nothing this whole time. In fact, he looked quite miserable… "This is my summoner, and the newest member of my army. Waver Velvet. Boy, say hello."
"Hello…" the magus mumbled his words and blushed. Arturia noticed that he was young, younger than any of the other participants in the War she had seen so far.
"Hello."
They sat there awkwardly, not saying anything further, until the sound of rustling fabric came. From under the flag, straight out of the ground or perhaps from the space between flag and stone stepped out Valentine, and with him the pale, silver ghost that Saber had seen on another occasion. The ghost carried a table with one hand and four folding chairs tucked underneath the other arm. Valentine had in his hands a large wicker basket and a unopened box.
"Food," he announced, resting the basket on the table, "cups for the wine, and a table to eat at." The ghost set the table, silverware and plates and disappeared soon after. The three that had been sitting on the ground joined Valentine at the table and began to nibble at the cheese and crackers and salty slices of salami and other cured meats. The wine was good, if a bit sweet and the Heroic Spirits enjoyed themselves for a short while.
"What was it that you wished to speak about?" Saber wiped her mouth with a napkin and asked. Even though Servants had no need to eat, it was relaxing and enjoyable to be doing so. Especially with people that deserved her respect.
"Let's start with each other." Unlike the others, Valentine had not eaten. He sat with an imperious expression on his face, stern and solemn. "We are all rulers here in someway, shape or form. I'd like to know your thoughts on how a leader should act."
Rider spoke up almost immediately. His grinned widely and laughed. "What a simple question, Archer! A king should be an example for all his subjects. A shining paragon of virtue and strength that the citizens can respect and look to for guidance. It is a King's job to inspire. To love and be loved by their citizens…" Rider looked to the sky as if thinking of better times. "They are your closest friends, and the ones you must never disappoint. The citizens. The average soldier, the baker, the fisherman; they are your flesh and blood."
Arturia couldn't stop herself from speaking. The kingship that Rider had described was wrong. So wrong that she couldn't fathom how he could have conquered so much of the world if he had ruled his people so casually.
"A king is not a human being. How can you say the things you say Rider? The common person is a monarch's responsibility, I agree, but how could they ever understand you? Their concerns are small and in the grand scheme of things, unimportant. Emotions and attachments interrupt and cloud judgement. A king must be impartial and be able to make decisions without being swayed by such trivialities."
Unlike his usual, jolly laugh, Rider gave a bark of derision. "Even a king is not perfect, Saber. What you say of forgetting one's emotions is inhuman."
There was that word. Inhuman. Her knights whispering in the hallways when they thought she could not hear. 'King Arthur has lost his humanity. King Arthur does not understand human feelings.'
Rider spoke on. Looking uncharacteristically serious. "Emotions are important. Maybe the most important thing for a ruler. To be in touch with one's subjects, is that not what kingship should be? To know what each person goes through, you can understand their pain; and through understanding, you can work towards healing. As king, you are vested power and responsibility that the average man cannot know, but you are still human, are you not? You feel the things that all men feel; love, hate, sorrow. This is something you cannot escape from. The unending legacy of human emotion."
"How will you then punish wrongdoers? Emotions play into sentencing, and things like hate and disgust cripple justice. Will you met out executions over lashings to punish criminals for the same crime if one seems particularly repugnant? And you speak of your friends, of your loved ones; if they were found guilty of crimes against the country, could you swing the sword?" The last bit was particularly poignant, memories of Guinevere and Lancelot filled her mind, and Arturia felt emotion, the very thing that she was rallying against. "A king has so much to do… emotions only make tasks more difficult."
"What do you think, Archer? You have been silent all this time, who will you side with?"
Valentine sat hunched over with his hands steepled in front of his face. Icepick eyes ran from Saber to Rider in slow circles. "Understand that I am no king. My office, my presidency, was a responsibility bestowed upon me by my fellow citizens. They were the ones I owe everything to. Unlike the two of you, I was not born into my rule." Valentine had a burning passion in his eyes. "Saber is correct. A perfect ruler must be able to forget human emotion and deal blind justice. They must be willing to send soldiers to their deaths. They must be willing to sacrifice the lives of thousands to save millions…"
Rider wore an ugly expression on his face, he had been expecting Valentine to take his side, but it seemed—
"But doing so makes you a failure as a human being. Saber is correct that a king is no human. How can they be? A king cannot ever understand their people. They sequester themselves away in gilded castles of stone away and far removed from their subjects. Iskander," Valentine turned to his housemate now. "You are a conqueror before you were a king. Men and women today don't remember you for your rule, but for your glory. They love you because despite your royal heritage, you understood people."
"There is a common story told about you. I'm sure Waver here has heard it before."
The magus jolted at the mention of his name.
"Rider's army was crossing the desert. Supplies were dwindling and he sent out a scout to find water. Horses were dying. Men had their feet burned by the sunbaked sand. Water had been rationed to less than a mouthful a day. Men killed their mounts and mules, pretending that the beasts had died of thirst, so that they could butcher them and drink their blood. The Conqueror was aware of this, and despite the fact that killing an animal belonging to the army was a crime, Iskander turned his head, or otherwise feigned ignorance."
Rider nodded. He knew this part of his campaign well. How could he forget those days so blisteringly hot that it seemed that the sun was hanging just above their heads. Metal and leather burned to the touch. His body, the bodies of the soldiers had forgotten how to sweat in that dry Hell. And the bone chilling nights where the soldiers had marched, falling over in exhaustion and hunger, their horses all killed for food or dead in the sun. The wagons broken up, useless, dead weight without the beasts of burden to pull them… and a hundred miles left to go. Men had died in that desert and their bodies had never been recovered. Skeletons eaten away by wind and blowing sand, disintegrating into dust. Corpses and cairns of bones in a sea of endless sand.
"The scout that Iskander sent out returned with good news. He had found water at a distance of perhaps a two days march away. And he had also brought back a skin full of water. All for you, his king…" Valentine turned to Saber. "What do you think he did?"
Arturia did not know the story. Haltingly she bit out the words: "I don't know."
"What would you have done?" Valentine asked. Rider looked absurdly pleased with himself and Valentine's knowledge of his life.
"A single skin of water is hardly enough to sate the thirst of an army. Even one person might not be satisfied…" she thought for a moment. "I suppose that I would have drank it."
Archer sighed. "The story goes that Iskander gathered his soldiers and stood on a tall hill with water in hand. He turned to his soldiers and showed them the full, pregnant skin of water and poured some into a cup so that every man would know what he held."
Valentine knew well the pain of thirst and exhaustion. His forty days spent wandering the desert, the place he had first found the Heart was so clear in his mind…
"Instead of drinking he poured the skin out in front of his soldiers and stated that he would be the last to drink. That if his army went thirsty, if his soldiers died, he would die alongside them." Valentine finished and spoke to the sky now. "This is the sort of man that Iskander is. Not a king, but instead a friend to his soldiers. A fellow, trusted comrade. The stories go that Iskander slept in the same tents that his soldiers slept in. He ate the same food, and if a king invited him to a feast, Iskander would insist that his men get the same treatment as he did."
Rider seemed to brush away tears of joy. "Well said, Archer…"
Valentine spoke more softly now, staring straight into Arturia's eyes. "This is human compassion. Empathy that you seem to disregard. The love Iskander's army felt for him far outstrips any loyalty that a knight could have felt for you. He was their equal before he was their king."
Saber sat still for a moment, staring at her lap. She remembered the long days in her throne room, holding court. The men and woman, nobles milling about and whispering, gossiping, all of them snakes, disloyal and power hungry. Her knights off doing their duty, gone for weeks at a time while the quested. A swarm of people around her and she was sitting on a cold, metal throne, utterly alone…
"How about you, Valentine?" She asked quietly. "How do you think a leader should behave?"
Valentine was quiet for a while, even as all the eyes in the courtyard were fixed on him.
"The most important quality for a leader is confidence. There must be no shame, no regret in a leader's mind when they act. Saber… Rider… can either of you say that you never feel shame? Every action you have made, every thought and breath you have taken, must be pure of Heart. My hearts and actions have always been unclouded. I feel no guilt, no shame from any of my actions."
Neither of the other Servants said anything.
Saber wondered to herself, staring intently at Valentine. What had he meant by 'no shame'? It was impossible, unthinkable that any person be free of all regrets.
"What do you mean, Valentine…" Arturia felt a strange inkling that although Valentine was speaking broadly, he was speaking with her on his mind. The rise and fall of King Arthur of Camelot…
"Is there any failure in your life that you regret?"
"Of course there is. Every man has regrets. You can't possibly claim that you have none." Even Rider seemed to agree, the massive Servant was nodding silently as Saber spoke. "If you had no regrets, there would be no purpose in you having been summoned."
"You misunderstand, Saber…" Valentine looked quite calm. "The reason that people fail is shame…" the way he spoke and stared directly at her, Saber knew that Valentine was specifically referencing her failure. The downfall of her kingdom, how she had been killed by her own bastard son, the works of her life cast aside… What use was it to survive in legends when her life work had been so easily ruined?
"The reason that people fail is because of the feeling of shame. People die because of shame. Kings die because of shame. When you think to yourself 'what could I have done differently?' or when you wonder if the actions you took were morally 'just' or not; that is shame. That is regret. You feel shame and slowly you weaken. You begin to second guess yourself and you lose your confidence, the drive and ability to act that all rulers need. My whole life I have thought of my failures as tests that I must pass to earn my victory. A ruler must never feel shame. They must always have complete faith in their own abilities. All else is secondary."
"Valentine," Rider began slowly, "you told me that you were searching for a Corpse… did you ever come about completing it during your life? Or is that a regret. Saber is correct; if you had no regrets, no deeds left unfinished, you would not have been summoned by the Grail."
Arturia was lost. A Corpse? Valentine was looking for a Corpse?
"If you must know, Rider. I did assemble the full Corpse during my life. My defeat was simply a test I was not able to pass. I was summoned here to fulfill a duty; not because of any regret that I harbor."
"And what might that duty be?" Saber stood from her seat. "We have milled about this subject long enough. All this talk of rulership pales in comparison to the question that must now be answered. What will you do with the wish that you earn from the Grail? Valentine; all this talk of a Corpse makes no sense in my mind. What are your intentions for the Grail?"
Valentine gave her an askew glance. "I'll let Rider explain his goals first."
Rider stood as well and puffed out his chest, crossing his arms. "With the Grail, I will give myself a human body once more. Then I will set out to finish what I was not able to do in my life. I will conquer the world."
"And you?" Saber turned to Waver who had been listening intently the whole time. "You are his Master, what are your plans for the Grail?"
"I need to win," Waver mumbled, "to prove to my teacher that magi can become powerful and skilled with sheer talent and practice alone. That there is no need for a strong familial history or tradition of magecraft."
"Valentine?"
The president stood and stretched his arms. "I have no real desire for the Grail. All that's needed is the Corpse… That's all I want. That and to gather allies for after the War, where I plan to bring my country, the United States of America, to even greater heights."
"And your Master?"
"Dead." He stated evenly. His expression said it all, Saber knew from that bright glint in Valentine's eye that he had betrayed his Master without any regret.
Arturia sat back down.
"How about you, Saber? An answer to your own question?" Asked Rider.
"Whether or not what Valentine said about shame and regret is correct; I wish to save my country… I am ashamed to say that I ruined it completely." She fidgeted with the hem of her battle gown and spoke in haltering, short phrases. "Understand that I tried my hardest to be a good king. I was just and fair to my subjects, and when applicable I showed mercy to wrongdoers. I led my people against the barbarian hordes who threatened our borders without fail. I brought order and justice to my country just as my father had wanted me to… people stopped going hungry. Houses were built for new families…" Saber gave a hollow, haunted laugh. "And still they spoke about me! Even after all of my success and victory, even after time and time again I shouldered the guilt and burden of sacrifices that had to be made: villages razed to the ground on my order so that the greater good could be prevailed…"
'But what good is the working for the greater good when you can't even call yourself, think of yourself as good…' Saber thought to herself and bemoaned her traitorous mind. Why did it seem to be so hard to forget the past? They were haunting her, Mordred and Guinevere and Lancelot and everyone else, they were haunting her. She saw them in her dreams and while she shed no tears, it felt as if her heart was beating backwards…
"I'm going to wish that I had never been king."
For a minute or two it seemed like the others didn't even breath. There was just a sort of ringing, buzzing in Saber's ear that blocked all sound. It was exhilarating, perhaps the wrong word to describe it, to speak freely and openly. To voice her regrets and shame and guilt; it wasn't any sort of catharsis, but a form of repentance. Punishment and retribution for ruining something that had been so amazing. Her country, the lives of her knights and her wife, could be saved from her ineptitude—
"You're a fool." Rider was speaking now, and unlike his usual laughing, jovial attitude, he was dead serious, almost a little angry even. "You're a fool, Saber. Giving up your kingship? What foolishness! You were born into your role. Responsibility was thrust upon you as it was thrust upon me as it was thrust upon my father and your father and all the kings who came before. You would sully the sanctity of your country's crown, of your own fate to assuage your guilt and ego?"
"You don't understand! I… I gave everything for my country. My humanity, my capacity as a human being! It was all sacrificed so that it could be a better place, a kinder place free from danger; where children could live without the fear of war and death. I would have let the hungry feast on my own body if they wanted; and in the end it all went wrong! Everything I did and worked for up in smoke. War came and I died on a mountain of bodies!"
'Killed by my own son!'
"War is God, Saber. You of all people should understand that."
"What…" Arturia could scarcely believe what she was hearing. "What are you saying, Rider? God? War is hate! War is what happens when two groups can't hope to understand each other—"
"Then it was inevitable. You've admitted to us that you did not understand your subjects, and that your subjects, even your closest knights, did not understand you. War and strife is inevitable, and it is your own fault that war came, and it is your own fault that you were unprepared." Rider's voice was eerily soft. He was angered, greatly angered. "Worst of all, Saber, is that you are a liar." He spat out. "You would use this Grail to save yourself from your own life. One elaborate suicide attempt. Dress it up anyway you like, you don't care about anyone but yourself."
She was about ready to draw Excalibur and leave Rider a pile of ash. "I gave my whole life to other people, don't even begin to think me as selfish." Saber and Rider glowered at each other, daring each other to strike first as Waver pulled at his Servant's arm, telling him to calm down. "I would damn myself to a fate worse than Hell to save them from my own foolishness. My reign as king destroyed my country, without me; it would still survive."
"You think yourself that important?" Archer interjected while stroking his jaw and leaning back on his chair, balancing on the back legs. "Your country has survived, more or less, for nearly seventeen hundred years now; after your death. In the course of its history you are nothing. Wishing yourself away won't change anything. What point is there in wishing for your country's salvation if it's already secure?"
"Great Britain, is not the country I ruled."
"Then perhaps it's a good thing that your rule ended in violence. Great Britain is one of the most prosperous countries on earth. For such a small island, its cultural influence is unmatched. The civilized world speaks and writes and thinks in English. Did you know that the British Empire extending from the Orient all the way to the Americas? My country only exists because of Britain, the Britain you believe that you ruined."
"You don't understand, Archer."
"I understand that you are afraid of failure. And that whatever mask of unflinching stoicism you may have worn in life has grown cracked and broken after being faced with hardship. I understand that you are a coward, and that you are willing to lie to yourself to save your pride. You wear your patriotism as a mask to cover your insecurity…"
Before Arturia could retort, a strange buzzing sound came from behind Valentine, and the President gagged, choking out blood, falling to his knees. Behind him loomed a figure hidden by smoke, crimson soaked knife in hand…
"Surprise."
Instantly Saber and Rider jumped to the side, the latter carrying his Master easily, getting clear of the danger. But Valentine did not move, a puddle of blood was spurting from his back, the wound so deep and precise that it was certain that his spine had been severed, knife eased quickly in and out of the space between two vertebrae.
"Easier than I thought it would be." As the smoke cleared a man dressed in a clean, coral red suit and slightly darker balaclava came into view. "The strongest Servant, gone so easily…"
Arturia and Iskander both drew their weapons and readied themselves to fight. They instinctively knew that this man was Assassin. Who else could have snuck up on them so easily? This was the man who had killed Irisviel… she would not have been alive if not for Avalon.
Rider looked absolutely furious, even more so than the anger he had shown while berating Saber. The air around him seemed to thicken with rage and mana being expended. "Tell me your name before I kill you."
"I haven't used my name in over twenty years, before my death. You can call me 'Spy' or 'Assassin' if you wish to address me…" Assassin puffed on a cigarette, smile visible even with his face mask. "It's good that you've all gathered here. Three dead Servants in a night will put me ahead of schedule."
Before Saber could step forward to attack, Rider blocked her passage with a massive arm.
"Allow me."
Sensing Iskander's anger and watching carefully the dark expression on his face, Saber tentatively nodded and stepped backwards. If anything, allowing Rider to fight alone would give her a gauge on what the Servant was capable of, an advantage for their inevitable conflict.
"Tell me, Assassin," Rider spoke as he took a slow step towards Assassin, careful to give Valentine's dead body some proper space. "Have you ever killed a king? You have the chance tonight, but I will warn you that I will not be your only opponent…"
"Kings die the same as other men. They aren't so brave or special as they would have you think. You'll die as Valentine died. Choking on your own blood. Face down on the floor. It doesn't matter that you're Alexander the Great or that the girl behind you is King Arthur… You bleed, therefore you die."
Assassin was the first to move. A shift of the body and some sort of magical movement of the hand and a revolver was produced, roaring incessantly as bullets raced towards their target. Rider didn't even take a moment to pause. One fluid movement and the world changed, shifted. Despite it being night, the sun rose and took its place in the sky, low and huge, its glow magnified by the wavy streamers of heat rising…
"They're bodies may have turned to ash, but their spirits hear my call! Legendary heroes in their own right; these are my brothers! Men and women who gave their lives to serve me! This is my army! Ionioi Hetairoi!" Iskander was suddenly astride a huge warhorse, the wild beast whom he had tamed as a young man, the stallion Bucephalus… and behind him were legions of soldiers, armored and wielding spears and swords, all of them charging and roaring their love for battle, for their king.
Saber stood her ground next to Waver, who was hunched over, holding his head. She hadn't had the chance to tell Rider about Assassin's power of mimicry. A killer of Assassin's level would be able to find a way around an army. She was sure of it…
But maybe, just maybe, she guessed wrong. Assassin was skilled, very skilled. Only wielding a knife and handgun, the Frenchman whirled and dodged, turning invisible one moment and appearing behind the attacker in the next. Expertly placed gunshots rang out in like a drum roll, the Servant able to reload with astonishing speed with just one hand. Helmets rang, some thick enough to protect their wearers, but others merely served as containers for blood and brain to spill into.
Assassin parried a spear thrust and threw his knife into his opponents throat. Despite his skill, the numbers were too much. While he killed one man, the next would already be attacking, and while Assassin managed to bewilder his enemies by phasing invisible or taking the appearance of their comrades, the secret was quickly forgotten and injuries began to stack up. Assassin's crisp suit was now torn and oozing blood from a dozen injuries. Sword strikes and arrow wounds littering his body.
When the cavalry came, Saber knew it was over. Rider leading the charge, a thousand horsemen armed with their stout swords, screaming and whirling like dervishes. Any military commander knew that cavalry would tear apart infantry. To raise the shield and sword against a mounted target tired the arms too quickly, and the added height that horsemen had over foot soldiers extended their range. Assassin never stood a chance. Bucephalus roared forward and Iskander's sword took Assassin's head, sending it flying high above. The body was trampled under the beating feet of the horses and it was over. The soldiers disappeared and the endless expanse of sand that had been Iskander's Ionioi Hetairoi turned back into the cool stone of the courtyard.
"And the coward dies." Assassin's body was unrecognizable as a human being. It was merely a heap of flesh and it did not so much as twitch. "He was skilled, but compared to any of the other Servants… he was weak. I'm sure that you would have put up a better fight, Saber."
"And yet the 'coward' managed to kill Valentine." Saber sheathed her blade and moved towards Valentine's corpse. "I didn't even have the chance to watch our president fight… I wonder what he was capable of?" Arturia remembered the first night that she had met both Archer and Rider. She had rushed forward and cut the tall president in half. The man had somehow revived himself then, so why not now? Perhaps he could only revive himself if he was conscious? It wasn't something worth fretting about. Valentine was dead and as cold as it might have sounded, Arturia couldn't bring herself to care very much. He was simply an ally, and not a particularly good one at that. He had died after all…
"You'll get your chance, Saber." From beneath Valentine's body crawled another Funny Valentine, an exact copy of the man down to the clothes, the very placement of the follicles of hair. Just like last time. Valentine pushed aside his own corpse and stood to his full height. Not a single injury marred his body. Arturia gaped and Iskander let out a loud peal of laughter, happy and relieved.
"You had me worried there, Archer! Good to have you back!" Rider clapped Valentine on the back, his anger at Assassin dissipated completely and he was back to his jovial self.
Valentine looked at the ruined body of Assassin distastefully. "And Assassin? What of him?"
"Handily defeated. He was no match for me." Iskander crossed his arms proudly. "I truly believed that you were dead, Archer. How did you do it?"
But Valentine shook his head. He did not look happy.
"Assassin is not dead. I can guarantee you that." The ghost was back now, standing directly behind Valentine, guarding him. "He has the ability to leave behind corpses to fake his death. I witnessed it myself when Assassin and I were allied."
"Why would he come to kill you if you were his ally?" Saber asked. Just when she didn't think Assassin could get any more dangerous, Valentine dropped this bomb on her. Perfect concealment, the ability to disguise himself as anyone, and now the ability to fake his death… for all his dishonest tactics and cruelty, Assassin was a true threat. If Valentine hadn't had the ability to miraculously survive any injury with no repercussion (Saber still didn't know how he managed that); he would have been out of the War for good.
"His Master was allied with my Master. Assassin must have been ordered to hunt me down after my betrayal was found."
"Betrayal? You killed your Master?" Arturia's assessment of Valentine dipped. She had thought him to be honorable, a king in deeds if not in title, but now it seemed that he was just as treacherous as Assassin. Even she wouldn't think of killing Kiritsugu, despite their many differences and arguments.
"He did." Just as Valentine had said, Assassin was still alive. The empty, sultry voice confirmed it. The other three Servants spent a moment looking around the courtyard, but the Servant was nowhere to be seen. Rider held his Master by the shoulder in a protective gesture. This was the terror of Assassin. They knew not where he lurked, nor when he would strike. They didn't even know if they could trust each other… Arturia felt a chill run down her spine.
"Valentine," she began suspiciously. "How do we know you're not in collusion with Assassin? Your death may have been a ploy to escape suspicion! How can we trust you? You might be Assassin in disguise..." Any of them could be Assassin… What about the boy? Waver hadn't done anything that evening, he had been alternatively quiet and cowering; the perfect identity for a killer to assume.
"Or it might be you," she turned her sword to Rider's Master, causing the boy to sputter in indignation. "You haven't done anything much this evening…"
"Boy, show her the Command Spell. Even Assassin wouldn't be able to mimic that." Rider ordered. Even he seemed to be shaken. This was not like any foe he had faced before. Not a man who could be simply taken at sword point and killed. Assassin was a mystery…
Waver nodded rapidly and raised his hand, pumping magic into the seal and causing to thrum with power. "Is this enough?"
It was enough. Saber turned to Valentine now. "Show us what you did before with the tables and food. Conjuring, is it?"
"Not exactly conjuring." Valentine shook his head and stared cautiously at his surroundings. "Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap!" The ghost responded and touched the floor with a silvery hand. Arturia watched carefully. Her earlier suspicions and theory on the mechanics of Valentine's ability were correct. Through contact, the space between two objects became a sort of portal for things to pass through. A small dog yipped as it crawled out from under the ghost's hand.
"Proof."
Saber was satisfied.
"What about you, Saber?" Rider intoned. "Perhaps you are Assassin in disguise. Maybe he removed you in the confusion and took on your identity. Show us proof that you are who you claim to be."
Saber nodded grimly and concentrated. Her magic filled the air as she called forth her Noble Phantasm, the Sword of Promised Victory… after all, who else could wield that legendary weapon?
It glimmered silver and gold and blue. The beautiful, other worldly blade of King Arthur. She swung it experimentally. Its full potential was still locked to her because of the curse of Lancer's Gae Buidhe, but the other Servants didn't know about that.
"Dirty Deeds!" Archer shouted and his protector clapped its hands on either side of his head. To everyone's surprise, Valentine disappeared. And not a moment too soon. A shot had been fired from the other side of the courtyard and passed through the space where Valentine's chest would have occupied.
Saber and Rider both turned, but it was too late. Only a puff of cigarette smoke was visible from where the shooter had to have been. The worst part was that they didn't know if Assassin had left or if he had simply cloaked himself again…
"Damn…" Rider groused, "he is a worthy foe. Boy, stay on guard. It would not do if my summoner were injured."
Three shots. This time aimed at Saber. She managed to block two, but the third impacted against her armor, denting but not piercing it. The gun that Assassin was using was most likely magical. Saber could deflect machine gun fire with ease, but these bullets were much, much faster.
"Show yourself, Assassin!" Saber shouted. "Enough of this hiding and subversion! You are a Heroic Spirit. Act the part! Where is your honor?"
"Behind you."
Saber heard a buzz behind her and the swish of the knife cutting through air, yearning for fresh blood to drink… but she was faster than Valentine, and she was expecting a sneak attack like this. She turned quickly enough and Excalibur blocked the knife, easily cutting through the dagger and deflecting Assassin's attack. The man cursed in French and backpedaled. Arturia's next sword swing cut his elbow joint past the bone, causing the forearm to flop loosely and thud to the ground…
A greaved leg caught Assassin in the chest, knocking him backwards over twenty meters, careening through shrubbery and bouncing over patches of flowers and bushes. Saber seemed to glow with righteous fury as she approached the downed Assassin. Everyone watching knew without a doubt that the little girl they had been talking to, secretly doubting and disparaging, deserved the title "King of Knights". Arturia was ready to dispense justice, Excalibur cold and sharp as death itself; Assassin's fate was sealed…
Six percussive bursts rang out and Arturia's sword hand was torn apart; either the armor there was thinner and weaker or Assassin had used a larger caliber firearm. Excalibur clattered to the ground unceremoniously and Arturia gasped in pain, falling to her knees and clutching at her wrist.
Assassin tottered to his feet, woozy with blood loss and pain. His revolver was emptied now and useless. He couldn't reload with just one arm… Now that Arturia was out of commision, Rider and Archer both stepped forward to end the fight. Assassin looked mournfully at his severed arm, more specifically at the watch on the wrist and called out desperately.
"Valentine! I know of the Corpse! I know where you can find it and how it got here." Assassin spoke in a rushed, dangerous tone. "Spare me tonight and I will tell you everything. I even know who the Corpse is from…"
Valentine and Rider shared glances, the looking steadily apprehensive as Valentine's eyes widened.
"Don't listen to him, Archer. Remember that he tried to kill you and that he has injured our ally; Saber."
Valentine spoke slowly and deliberately. "Rider, if only you understood the significance of the Corpse… then perhaps you would understand what I feel when the Body is mentioned."
"Valentine…" Saber choked out, "kill him. Don't listen to him. Men like him have no honor, they lie…" her hand would grow back within the hour, but it was still excruciatingly painful to have lost it in the first place. Her surety of victory had caused her to become careless; unnoticing of the way that Assassin cleverly palmed his firearm and drew so, so quickly.
"Any risk is worth the Corpse… you are ignorant, Saber. A deal with the shadiest conman is well worth this reward." Valentine paused his languid gait and turned to his allies, seemingly unconcerned with the high tension in the air. "Move against me and you both will die." The president reached Assassin, the ghostly figure floating low to the ground. "Spy," he stated with much aplomb in his voice, "tell me the truth and you will be rewarded with life. I speak truthfully when I say that I have no desire for the Grail. Tell me of the Corpse Parts and I will let you go free…"
Both Rider and Saber reacted physically when Valentine's ghost tapped Assassin on his masked forehead, pushing the man into the ground and following suit just as quick as entering a door. What a terrifying power… to make men disappear with a touch of the hand. Neither Servant understood just what they had witnessed, but it was something dangerous, more dangerous than any military campaign or battle they had fought in. This was Valentine's mysterious power…
With the courtyard partially vacated and combat over, Saber and Rider turned to each other.
"Archer would deal with murderers… sadists. Should we consider this a breach of alliance? He has offered freedom to the man who did this," Saber shook her bloody stump that was quickly mending itself. "I say we should cut him down the next time we meet…"
Rider shook his head. On his face was an unhappy expression of resignation. "No, Saber. When Valentine and I agreed to our alliance; he gave the condition that this Corpse of his, what he claims to be the Corpse of the Son of God, or something of that effect—"
Arturia felt the world spin when she heard the words Son of God. If this was true… if what Valentine had told Rider was true, the stakes were greater than just a Grail or wish to be made; while the rest of them had been scrambling for pennies, Valentine had been aiming for the right to call himself Messiah, savior of the world. Even in the sixth century, when she had ruled, the predominant faith had been Christianity. Saber had even been anointed by scented oils of Faith… Iskander was obviously ignorant, having lived in a period before the birth of Christ, but Arturia knew all too well. To think that He had still existed on the world in such a form…
"—Plenty of men claim to be the Son of God, what makes this particular Corpse so different? It's just another man, a great man perhaps, but still just a man." Iskander rambled on, ignorant of the shocked expression on Saber's face. Yes, Christ was a man, but the scripture told that he was God in man's flesh and man in God's flesh at the same time. The Savior of Mankind. The Healer. Teacher. Miracle Worker.
Saber shook her head dumbly. "Rider… if what Valentine said was true, and if my suspicions are correct… I believe he is justified in his actions, as loath as I am to say."
"Surely you do not believe that the Corpse that Valentine speaks of is actually a holy relic? Even the body of a Saint cannot compare to the power of the Grail, surely he is merely deluded?"
…
"I don't know enough about this Corpse to make a judgement, Rider. But for a man as prudent and careful as Valentine to risk everything, his place in this War, his existence as a Servant for this Corpse, there must be some truth to his words. And while you might not know of story of the Corpse that Valentine is speaking of… the world has worshipped him for the past two thousand years as a God."
"Jesus Christ," Waver whispered.
Jesus Christ, indeed…
"God works in mysterious ways," Valentine chuckled, sitting across from an annoyed Spy in the corner booth of a bar. It was midday, and the establishment was empty save for the two Servants and the Bartender.
"Yes, well, fate decided that I lose my hand…" Spy moaned. I can't even feel a link to my Master anymore, what did you just do?" With his remaining hand, Spy pointed to the light filtering in through a dusty window that hadn't been cleaned in years. "Without mana, my hand will not heal and I will fade from existence? Explain to me, Valentine."
"Insurance, you might say. If you try and kill me, you will die without so much a chance to even see the Grail, let alone wish on it." Valentine motioned for the bartender to bring them two drinks. "But I am a man of my word, Spy. Tell me of the Corpse, tell me truthfully, and you will walk free until of course, we come to blows once more…"
Spy shook his head. "I acted on Kirei's orders, Valentine. You know that I wouldn't attack you otherwise. We have too much respect for each other." And they did. Strange as it may have seemed, Valentine and Spy genuinely got along with each other. The politician and the killer-for-hire. The man in the limelight and the one in the shadows…
"Then you should know that this mercy is a courtesy to a friend," Valentine exaggerated the word and continued, "the Corpse is worth more to me than anything, Spy. Even your friendship pales in comparison."
"Is that why you killed Tokiomi?"
Valentine threw his head back, handsome, golden curls bouncing against the wall. "Of course it is. The fool had three whole parts to himself, ignorant of what they were, only concerned for their magical properties… and of course the Corpse hadn't considered him worthy. There was no connection there. He thought of using the Corpse as a catalyst for a future Holy Grail War! The pomp, summon God himself? Not wise. Not wise."
"Then it is Jesus? No lie?"
Valentine shook his head softly. "To lie about something like this… impossible. The story you may have learned as a child surrounding Christ's actions after his death are wrong, but the Corpse is verifiably that of Christ's."
Spy was silent for a moment and then began to talk, reluctantly. "I'd prefer if you were my ally, Valentine. But so long as you do not interfere with my attempts at the Grail, I will tell you of the Corpse."
"I would have it no other way. The deal I struck with Saber and Rider is similar. I will yield the Grail to whomever is left at the end of the War, so long as they assist me in gathering the Corpse."
After a time of fruitless searching for a cigarette, Spy sighed and put away his case. "What you said about fate… I believe that Rin Tohsaka, Tokiomi's daughter, holds a Part. I don't know if she was selected or what not, but keeping tabs on everyone even remotely involved in the War seems to have proven fruitful. I watched as she pulled a human arm from the ground; one practically oozing with power."
The president nodded his head. "Children are almost always chosen by the Corpse. They are young and innocent at that age. They have little guilt and their goals are sincere, if unrealistic and unclear."
"There you have it then. The Corpse has selected her. How will you take it for yourself?"
"The Parts are attracted to each other, Spy. It is fate that they are united. I don't know how they were scattered so far since my death, or how they got to Japan, but once I approach her, the Arm will be mine," Valentine had a curious look on his face. "Does she know yet of her father's death?"
Spy shook his head in the negative. "She hasn't, and she will be told nothing concrete."
"And of the other Part you claim to know of?"
The killer smiled sadly at his stump. "Fate is funny, Valentine. Another Servant holds the Part, I believe. I have seen Caster holding a Spine…"
And there it was. Already so close to completion, and with a bounty leveled on Caster. The Corpse would be his…
AN: Sorry this chapter took so long, I've been very busy recently. The length is good so I hope you enjoy.
Rin has got a Stand called Hungry Like the Wolf. Her powers won't be revealed until the sequel to this story, and she will likely not play much of a part for the rest of the story besides Valentine speaking with her.
Note: Remember that powerlevels in Fate are partially determined by how popular the characters are in terms of fame. Think about how Iskander and Gilgamesh and Arturia are the strongest characters in Fate because they are famous. Valentine is powerful because he was incredibly popular as a President, and because people remember him for the Steel Ball Run, and because of the huge mystery surrounding his disappearance. He was literally more popular than George Washington, the first president of the US. Valentine's approval ratings were 91%. Modern America would remember him as fondly as they do Lincoln. If we go by his approval ratings, Valentine, for all his evil ways, must have done something to get so popular. It's very likely that he was a legitimately good president, and that he led America into great wealth and power.
Now think about just who the Holy Corpse belongs to. Christianity is the religion of over two billion people. And it has been the dominant faith and belief the past two millennia. Even non-Christians respect Jesus as an all around cool guy. Muslims and Jews both believe in his existence and that he was an important messenger of God, even if they don't believe that he is the Son of God. Jesus would be by far the most powerful Servant if he was summoned into the War.
With the Corpse on his side, Valentine would get an absurd powerboost. Nasuverse decrees it...
Next arc will be the CASTER arc! Will Grenouille finally get his ass into gear and finish his perfume?
Note: for those unfamiliar with Perfume: The Story of a Murderer, Bottled Love is my (oh so) original name for the greatest perfume that Grenouille made. A single drop of it was capable of sending thousands of people into a huge orgy, and convinced them all that Grenouille was divine and incapable of wrong just because he smelled good. A single drop made a father forgive Grenouille for murdering his only daughter, and made the man love him to the point where he asked Grenouille to become his son. Grenouille states that sending a letter with a drop of perfume on it could convince the Pope to declare him God on Earth and that a single whiff of Bottled Love would cause kings to kiss his feet.
Imagine what it'll do when enhanced by MAGIC and the SPINE. Grenouille's feats in book!Perfume are what I'm using to base his capabilities on, and his reality bending perfumes are inspired by the psychic abilities of Orks in WH40k (red things go faster than blue things just because Orks believe that red things are faster).
I can't stress enough how it works though, so for a final time, I'll elaborate on Grenouille's powers given by the Spine he has.
Grenouille's perfumes smell like something so realistically that when other people smell them, they believe that the perfume is something that it's not. People smell fire and whatever the perfume is on will catch fire, and spread like a real life, burn things like a real fire, etc. Only Grenouille is immune because his sense of smell is so good that he can detect that the perfume is a fake. Even putting on a oxygen tank so that you can't smell the perfume and still breath wouldn't work. If anyone else smelled the perfume, the effect would happen because someone is believing it.
Example: you put on a rebreather and Grenouille sprays you with the perfume of fire. You can't smell it and it doesn't do anything, and Caster can't trigger it because he knows it's fake, but the instant someone else is fooled by the smell, you'll catch fire.
As always, please review and such.