Chapter three is here for you to read. And just so everyone understands, I really love Ceri. I really love her. Not as much as Saber, but I still love her. What can I say?
As usual, if you spot any mistakes, please let me know. I'll fix them as soon as I can. Reviews are always welcome!
Shirou felt his heart start to pound.
This had to be a joke. Dragons actually existed, and his luck was actually bad enough to go up against one?
You've got to be kidding me!
The large beast in the sky raced down towards what it thought to be easy prey and Shirou did the first thing that came to his mind: pick up his bag and run for his freaking life.
"Ah! Why is there a dragon here?" he yelled out, running as if his life depended on it, which it did. "You've got to be kidding me! How do I beat a damned dragon?"
Had someone been passing by, they would have been treated to the amusing scene of a foreign, young man racing down the road with smoke billowing behind him, screaming bloody murder as a large beast drooped down to blow fire at him. They may have also been interested to see the dragon's head slam into the man's back and send him flying one hundred meters forward. Then, they would've have been able to spare a smile as the young man stood back up and continued running away.
Shirou kept running until he saw shapes resembling buildings at least a few kilometers away. Sliding to a stop, he gritted his teeth. If that was a village, then he couldn't allow the dragon to progress any further. Turning his gaze back towards the oncoming dragon, he fell flat onto the ground as the dragon roared over him. Standing back up, he was getting ready to run in the opposite direction, away from the village, when he noticed the dragon had switched targets. The time-traveler stared at the dragon, horrified, as it gained speed and raced towards the town instead.
"No!" Shirou shouted, eyes narrowing.
Myrus' words came back to him: "A final word of caution, boy. Do not so readily release your Reality Marble, or project anything, at all. I doubt it need be said, but take great pains not to project something which has not been invented by that point in time. If others see technology beyond their scope of understanding, you may encounter more problems than you are ready to undertake."
Shirou hesitating, expression full of confliction as he lowered his projected bow and swords. A bead of sweat slid down his cheek as he weighed the effect his actions would have if anyone happened to see what he had been prepared to do. He cocked his bow, drawing back the single sword in the drawstring, before again lowering it as he once again considered what to do. His fingers twitched slightly and he released his projections, fists falling to clench at his sides.
Closing his eyes, he gritted his teeth in frustration, not sure of how to proceed. If he didn't use his abilities, the village was doomed to fall, but if he did, someone might discover who he was.
What would she do?
He saw the smoke rise from the village as the dragon reared down on its people, and the bow and arrows immediately materialized back into his hands.
Like I even have to ask!
He bent down low to ground himself as drew back his bow's drawstring.
Step one: measure approximate distance from self to target.
Step two: predict expected angle of drift of target, speed of wind crossing and resistance, and all possible angles and courses of fired shots.
Step three: narrow down possible courses to those with a higher than ninety percent rate of execution.
Step four: imbue all ammunition with readily prepared magical energy.
Step five: replicate each "bullet" by two, five, ten.
Step six: bind each set of bullets together as separate units.
Step seven: calculate range and rate of speed, and allocate magical energy accordingly.
"Step eight," Shirou whispered, releasing his fingers from the drawstring "fire."
Each bullet flew away from him, speeding through air like bomber missiles, spiraling, sinking, rising, and zigzagging between one another as they raced for their target. As if they were built with an infrared homing device, each bullet head aligned itself with the target as the dragon looped around the village. The target noticed its enemy and took to higher in the air, drafts blowing back at the bullets as it flapped its enormous wings. The bullets, undaunted by the sudden wind current, stayed true to their path, instead growing ever closer to the beast.
Shirou threw his hand into the air, clenching it slowly as he said, "Trace on: augment!"
Each of the five bullets simultaneously split into ten different swords, pausing temporarily in the air before rocketing straight at the beast's head, ignoring the main body. Shirou knew he couldn't take a dragon – not with his skills, or at least, not the way Saber might be able to. He had to devise other methods of eliminating it. He tightened his clenched fists, shouting,
"Trace on: bombardment!"
Each arrow shot forward, and as soon as they touched the scales of the dragon, exploded in a series of blasts, almost like C4 as it is detonated. Shirou focused his eyes to see if his attack had made any kind of dent in the beast at all, but was hardly surprised when the dragon, now raging with fury, turned around and came surging towards him.
Shirou dug his feet into the dirt for further stabilization, and closed his eyes to dig for the remnants of his magical energy supply. He bent his body down, trembling slightly as a light green hue formed around his body. The dragon opened its mighty jaws, a ball of fiery flames whirling around tightly before it launched its attack, and Shirou threw up both of his hands and shouted,
"RHO AIAS!"
The second the flames hit Shirou's shield, three petals dissipated almost immediately. Shirou gritted his teeth as he felt something in his body tear and start breaking down. He closed his right eye unconsciously, feeling the strain of the fire against his shield. Shirou had known from the start that he didn't have enough energy to maintain the shield, especially with his back-up plan already in place as well.
Taking a chance with his life – as if fighting against a dragon wasn't risky enough – and released his shield and dashed to the side simultaneously.
"If I can't take you on," he grunted out, six swords, each strengthened to be like steel, appearing in the air over him, "then I'll just have to take away something that might cumber you forever! Take this!"
The dragon's bright red eyes widened for but a second before Shirou's weapons slammed into their depths, three for each eye. Shirou jumped when the dragon screeched its pain, completely startled by the loud noise. He clapped his hands over his ears, eyes closed as he winced. "Gah!"
He felt his body being nudged away gently by the dragon's snout, and as soon as he opened his eyes, Shirou let out a sound of surprise and fear when the dragon spun around like a spinning top and slammed its tail into Shirou's body. He had barely been able to strengthen his bones a split nanosecond before the tail made contact with him and sent him soaring through the air towards the village. Pain riveted through his body from the attack, and he felt like five Beserkers had all bum rushed at the same time. He hardly felt his impact against something flimsy and as he slid across the ground before eventually sliding to a stop.
Shirou felt his vision fading when he tried to force his eyes open. Everything was blurry, and he was too exhausted to keep them open for much longer than a few seconds. His ears kept ringing, and he briefly entertained the idea that the dragon might come back after him, kill him, and destroy the village as well.
"Ugh," he groaned softly, clenching his fists and tightening his muscles as he, inch by inch, forced his body to rise back up. His body shuddered all the while, and he felt him lose a few inches of air before he caught himself again. Again forcing his eyes to open, Shirou slowly turned to look around him, the muscles in his jaw jumping as he ground his teeth. His body hurt, and he felt like if he got up, that would be the end of his story.
What about everyone else's stories? Whose fault was it that the dragon found the village in the first place?
That was an accident, Shirou argued with himself, still struggling to rise up. I didn't mean to lead that thing so far and put so many people in danger.
If you didn't mean it, then prove it! If you're a hero, then it's your responsibility to save the innocent!
I can barely stand on all fours right now... How am I supposed to save everyone?
So you don't care if everyone dies around you again? You don't mind repeating the same travesty that happened seventeen years ago? You're okay with being the one lone survivor, incapable of doing anything but saving his own hide?
"No," he gasped, his eyes opening fully as he forced his body to rise. He reached deep within him for any magic leftover, anything that would help him, just...something!
"Ahhh!" he yelled out, his body fervently rebelling against his wishes.
Then, as if a switch had been flicked off, he felt himself lose control over his body and fall face forward back onto the ground. Again, I just...
He was shaking. Honestly, why must he have been the one to fulfill this assignment? He wasn't even remotely related to the discussion at hand, but thanks to being the only free to leave the town without consequence, he had been sent as a result. Lifting up his eyes timidly, he gulped and quickly looked back at the red carpet as soon as he had peered into the other's eyes.
The king's eyes appeared soulless to him – soulless, cold, and calculating. He's not human!
"When can we expect the next shipment, louse?" asked a pudgy man, his belly barely covered by his brown robes. "As I recall, we have already sent the appropriate funds."
"Y-yes, esteemed sir, that is true, but..."
The man winced when the king narrowed his eyes. He bowed his head lower until he touched the carpet. "That is true, but the caravan carrying the goods underestimated the band of thieves in the area and was overtaken..."
Arthur Pendragon, born under the name of Arturia, the king of Britain, tapped her index finger against the arm of her throne, the only telling of her irritation. This was not the first, but the second time their supply of iron had been "stolen" or "lost". She didn't doubt for a moment that there was something more to this predicament – if the town had already experienced such an issue, then they should have been more than prepared.
"How can that be?" her king-of-arms asked, standing down the steps to her right. "I personally sent a troop of men to take care of the issue. I have received no word or otherwise of any complications."
"Cedrych," she called out calmly, earning the attention of the entire court. "How long has it been since you've received communication from your men?"
"Hardly a fortnight, sire," Cedrych responded courteously, his torso bowed out of respect.
She felt herself start to grind her teeth. Two weeks without a single letter of communication? Twice already she had requested the town of Puria to send Camelot a much needed source of iron, but this was the second time her demands hand been turned down via other means. The first time was passable, as the town was technically on the outskirts of her rule in Logres. Being only nearly two years into her reign, her influence was not yet widespread enough for towns to willingly supply the people of her town with materials.
However, after the battle against the other eleven kings, and two additional battles against the Saxons along the Dubglas river, she had realized Camelot's stock of materials was sorely lacking. While Camelot was pulling in resources from nearby mines, farms, and woodwork factories, it simply wasn't enough to meet the demand of supplying her soldiers with the armor they dearly required. Several men had joined to fight under her banner – far more than originally predicted – after the battle, and the towns Camelot held a treaty with were hard-pressed to keep up with the demands asked of them.
"Gawain."
The blond standing to the immediate right of her turned obliquely, bowing deeply. "My Lord?"
"Take fifty of your most trusted men and march to Puria. Evaluate the situation and take action based on your own judgment."
"It will be done. Providing that this man speaks lies, what would you have me do?"
"As I said previously, I will leave that to your judgment. However, if something smells of treachery..."
She paused, focusing her gaze on the man quaking down in front of her. "...Then purge the town of its curse of lies and deceit and deliver it unto justice."
Arturia's eyes narrowed imperceptibly as she noticed the man smirk for but a moment – the expression was gone so quickly she was not sure if she had really witnessed what she thought she had. Her fingers on her right hand coiled in slightly as she felt something stir from deep in her stomach. Something – she wasn't sure what, but something was off about the entire situation. Breathing out softly, Arturia realized this was one of those times where it was best to follow her instincts rather than consider reason to be a solution.
"Gawain, have Lancelot accompany you."
She knew she had made the right decision the second the man's face paled slightly. Gawain turned back to give her a fleeting glance of confusion before he bowed again. "By your will, Your Majesty. I will inform Lancelot of your command. And what of this man, sire?"
"He will, of course, lead you to the town. I ask that you keep your eyes on him at all times."
"I understand," Sir Gawain responded before rising to his full height and looking down at the man currently bent down on the floor. "Rise, you. We will set off immediately."
The man shook his head back and forth as Gawain grasped his arm and starting pulling him towards the entrance of the throne room. Gawain showed no hesitance when he squeezed the man's arm hard enough to bruise, forcing the other to follow after him.
"Do you mean to kill every villager in my town, King?" the man yelled out, trying to resist as the knight continued pulling him away. "What is the meaning of sending two knights simply to recover something? Your foolishness will bring about your end, mark my words! I swear that –"
"Would you shut up already?" Gawain muttered, letting go of the man's arm to backhand him across the face. The man was so surprised that Gawain had little trouble of pulling him the rest of the way out of room.
Arturia bowed her head slightly, letting out a sigh as soon as the man's screams could no longer be heard. That villager had not been the first one to curse her that week, least of all, that day. Perhaps she had risen on the wrong side of the bed every morning for the past month, as nothing seemed to be going well. Her head cook, Baeddan, had been repetitively complaining to her, directly, for that matter, of his "concern" over their lack of ingredients, seasonings, cookware, and more so than anything else, the lack of helpers to help with cooking all the necessary meals for the soldiers and her knights. She realized the importance of meals for the keep, but really, did he need to complain to her every moment she was unfortunate enough to be seen by him?
Then there was Merlin, yet another thorn in her side. Just a couple of weeks before, he had, again, used her for some experiment with her none the wiser. Arturia could feel her muscles tensing as she recalled how often she had gone to the pot, and found herself cursing the gleeful expression on the wizard's face.
"It's a success!" he had told her when she had come out of the toilet room for the fifth time that day. "Egads, I've done it! Even after boiling it to rid it of all impurities beforehand, for it to be able to induce such a condition by simply using water from the river, I now realize that our sewage system does indeed feed out into the local water systems! This will allow me to work with those in charge of sewage to develop a system that will not filter out into our pure water. Thank you, Arturia, for your help with this experiment."
Arturia had just stared at him, her face first paling as she realized what he'd forced her to drink. Then she had felt herself flush with anger before quickly turning an odd shade of green, and finally blue as she clutched at her stomach.
After hearing about her condition, her foster brother, Sir Kay, had spared her no expense at laughing at her misery. Not even Sir Bedivere had been unable to disguise a snort of amusement, and the meeting she had carried to discuss the future plans with the Knights of the Round Table turned into nothing short of a laughing fest. Her body had quivered noticeably, unable to hide her embarrassment and anger. She hadn't spoken to Merlin again for a full week afterward.
"Sire," came Bedivere's from her left, snapping her out of her reminiscing. The screaming man had long since been "escorted" out of the room, and she had apparently been caught up in her own thoughts to notice the expressions of uncomfortableness on her court's faces.
"Yes, Bedivere?" she asked, acknowledging him without her expression shifting remotely.
"My Liege, I must say that I, too, am curious of your motives for sending Lancelot to take care of as small a matter as securing funds or materials. And fifty men, Your Majesty? Need we send so many?"
It was a decent question, and one she had given much thought to.
"Cedrych indicated sending a total of ten men to Puria with the intent to escort and secure our demanded amount of iron, a trip that should hardly take a week were one to head straight there and back. Yet we have not received confirmation or otherwise within two? Do you not find that suspicious, Bedivere?"
It was Cedrych who spoke up instead. "You suspect foul play, then, Your Highness?"
Bedivere cupped his chin, stroking it as he considered what the king had said. "I see, yes. Of course – Conan the Great has been known to traverse through that area. If bandits are indeed stealing the supplies we need, it would only make sense to first suspect Conan and his band, as they have been quite vocal in their opposition of Camelot's king."
"Precisely my thoughts on the matter, Bedivere," the king said, facing forward and not even glancing at him. "In which case, it would not be pure folly to assume the soldiers we previously sent may have very well met their end at Conan's hands. I am also wary of believing that messenger – his intentions did not seem pure."
"Perhaps I should attend to the issue myself, as well?"
Arturia shook her head slightly. "No, I would prefer that you remain here by my side, Bedivere. Aside of you, all of my knights are out on various expeditions of great importance to the kingdom. Were something to happen in their absence, I want to be certain that someone I have absolute faith in will be my side."
"Very well," Bedivere replied, the bangs of his light blond hair – so light it looked white – falling to cover his eyes. "If we are to secure a trade route with Puria, we will not need to worry about iron or steel for a short time, at least. But what of our copper and coal supplies?"
Arturia raised her right hand, indicating a thin, wiry man to come forward. "Dylan, you have kept score of our trade routes, have you not?"
Bowing, her steward curtly nodded once, his dark-brown eyes downcast as he answered his king's summoning.
"We have successfully communicated with the villages of Dawson, Tirad, Monnae, and Poiran. Each village has acknowledged His Majesty's kingship and is sending a steady supply of copper, while seven other villages, Yustaeia, Losteanc, Worick, Briata, Kronsinae, Ewikwe, and Bron have promised us our necessary supply of coal."
"What about our food trade routes?" Bedivere asked, turning to the king.
"Dylan," Arturia merely said, closing her eyes as she bowed her head slightly.
"Camelot has more than quadrupled the number of plots for farming, and there are currently several teams of hunters exploring beyond the castle's walls, hunting game for consumption use."
"You are quite knowledgeable," Bedivere complimented the steward with a smile. "I see why you are the king's steward. You are most deserving of the title."
Dylan bowed again and Arturia waved him away.
"Now then, if you have no more questions," she began, pausing when Bedivere shook his head slightly and turned away, "I would like to see to a few more villagers before retiring from hearings for the rest of the day. Dylan, see the next person in."
After making a quick bow, the wiry man scurried to the entrance, calling for the next visitor. Bedivere bent down slightly to whisper in Arturia's left ear, "After the man from earlier, I wager things will only be better henceforth."
She did not reply, instead watching as a burly man with a pot belly entered, dressed in the rags normally indicative of a peasant of low class. He fumbled with his shirt momentarily before flopping down onto the floor like a jelly roll. Arturia felt her eyebrows raise slightly, unsure of what to make of this commoner, before stealing a quick glance at Bedivere, as if to question his words. He smiled back at her reassuringly, and she turned back to look at the...thing, on her red carpet.
"I would hear your name, now."
"Onion," came the muffled reply, to which Arturia frowned slightly, slightly bewildered.
"I beg your pardon?"
Dylan hissed at "Onion" to lift his head and speak more clearly, and the pudgy man did just that.
"Einion, Your Greatness!" the man exclaimed, flopping back down onto the carpet.
"...Yes, of course," Arturia murmured, taken aback by the man's strange mannerisms. "Then, Einion, was it? Einion, what is that concerns you as of late?"
"It is about my horse, Oh Great One," Einion said, holding out his hands towards her pleadingly. "My wonderful horse and that snake in the grass, Catrin! That fox has given me nothing but headaches since I so kindly took her in, and yet she somehow felt fit to do such a horrid thing! My poor horse, how he must have suffered! He was such a fine steed, and yet she took him away from me!"
"Ah," Arturia said, unsure of what else to say. "So, you are reporting a stolen horse. That is a grave offense indeed."
"No, Your Majesty! My horse has died!"
"...She murdered your property?"
"No, sire! He died of heartbreak! You see, that vixen took it upon herself to have her way with my horse and when she died from her sinister act, my great steed, too, died, but from heartbreak! Whatever am I to do, Oh Majestic One?"
"By 'had her way', you mean...?"
Bedivere cleared his throat. "I believe he refers to what you think he speaks of, Your Highness."
The daughter of Uther Pendragon stared down at the flabby man, unsure of whether or not she had a firm grasp of the situation. As the pudgy man continued whining, moaning, and groaning, Arturia clenched her right fist tightly, her left hand cupping her face as she leaned forward. Why, why, why, why couldn't she just have a normal day sometimes? Bedivere leaned down and whispered,
"I seem to have lost that wager."
Only twenty-some more people to go...
Three hours later after listening to villagers from near and far as the talked about their various issues, Arturia could be seen calmly walking up the spiraling staircase to her study, two squires following along behind her. The two followed along silently, two to three paces behind her at every step to ensure she was neither crowded nor too far away. Her blue cape of fur hanging off of her left shoulder billowed around her gently as she climbed, gaze steadfast and cool. After reaching the fourth flight, Arturia turned away from the staircase and walked down the long corridor, the torches along the walls lighting up the way. Dusk had already fallen, but she still had much work to attend to.
Her armor clanked with every step she took, the sounds ricocheting through the stoned passageway. She could also hear the soft padding and scraping of his squire's leather boots as they walked along behind her. Arturia had not intended to take on any squires, much less two of them, but her knights thought it best that there be someone at least somewhat knowledgeable on the roughness of her schedule to attend to her. Of course, she had servants to do that as well, but her squires were the one who polished her armor, sword and sheath, and took care of her various errands when they were not training.
Arturia came to an abrupt stop as soon as a tall, old, elderly stepped out of the shadows in front of her. She frowned as the old man gave her a pearly grin, and turned her head away. Lifting her left hand up, the two squires quickly bowed, took a step back, pivoted, and started walking away to what she assumed would probably be the Great Hall for dinner. She was rather hungry herself, but that would have to wait.
As soon as she felt the two boys were outside of earshot, she folded her arms across her chest, cocking a hip as she met the old man's gaze with her own blank one.
"Merlin. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Her words were dry and sarcastic, though Merlin didn't appear to be affronted in the least. He gestured for her to walk with him, to which she did, albeit a bit grudgingly.
"You seem healthy, lad," Merlin chirped cheerfully, much to her annoyance. "I take it you are no longer living in the toilet room?"
"Rather than any sword on the battlefield, you will be the end of me, Merlin," she rebuked angrily, eyes narrowing dangerously. "You and your foolish experiments."
"Now, now, child, no need to speak in hyperboles," he said, pausing when she glared at him. "Do not be so hostile. My intentions were pure."
"As pure as my steed's manure, I'm sure," she muttered, turning her head away from him. "You really will one day cause me my death."
"Come now, dear. That is why you were given Avalon: to keep yourself alive for me to conduct my various experiments."
Arturia simply glared at him further, saying nothing in return.
As soon as they arrived in front of her study, Merlin ushered her in like a mother hen would a chick. He then dismissed the two guards standing right outside the doors so he could speak to her in private. Closing the door with a gentle whoosh, and locking it, Merlin turned to look at the young king frowning at him.
"You have been quite irritated lately, Arthur," he remarked after a moment of silence.
"Arthur" sighed, her shoulders drooping slightly. "Something has not felt right lately, though I suppose it may just be nerves playing tricks on me."
"I wouldn't say that," Merlin replied, serious for once. "There has been talk of a dragon appearing to the east, near the border of the Saxons. While I am not certain of its type, it was apparently seen chasing a traveler before moving onto a village."
"A village?" Arturia asked, her fists clenching immediately as she stepped forward. "I have heard nothing of this! What village was it?"
"A village called Tryst. No one was killed, thank goodness, but they did take some damage to their buildings. However, you may not have heard anything because they are far out of our scope, and dangerously close to the Saxons. We haven't been able to reach out to them yet to include them under our protection of safety."
"What of the dragon?"
"Felled, by the traveler, apparently. Of course, I do not know the details so I couldn't say for certain."
"Tryst," Arturia murmured, a finger on her lips as she turned away in thought. "I suppose it is good that the village is safe, though I do worry about what might happen should they be attacked by the Saxons, or worse, another dragon."
She sighed, covering her face with her hand. "Today has certainly been eventful."
The old man nodded wisely, and walked forward, holding a vial of something. She looked at it suspiciously before glancing back up at him. "And pray tell, what is that?"
"I know you haven't been sleeping well lately. Trust me, I'm fairly certain you may come to need it rather soon."
Arturia took the glass vial warily, looking at the pasty white mixture inside. "And you say this will energize me? It will not kill me?"
"Lad, I have invested far too much of my time in your life to kill you so easily," Merlin said with a small smile. "Just drink it. I guarantee it won't do anything to you."
She had her misgivings, – and who could blame her after what had happened two weeks previously – but gingerly popped the cork and tilted her head back to drink it down. Her eyes opened as wide as physically possible as she felt a burning sensation go down her throat. Tears flooded her eyes as she coughed a few times, feeling as if her throat had been burnt all the way through.
Merlin grinned so happily at her that she wanted to punch him.
"How's that? Do you feel rejuvenated yet? I call it my Pepper Strike, a drink guaranteed to pep you up!"
"Merlin..." she gasped out warningly, her hand at her throat.
They both quieted down as they heard the sound of someone running down the corridor. Frowning, Arturia moved around Merlin to the door, swiftly unlocking it, and opening it right as a young man came running up to her. Her two squires ran up directly after the man, each one breathing heavily. Pedr spoke first, his chest heaving as he bowed to her and rushed to explain:
"Y-Your Majesty," he gasped. "Th-this courier hails from the town of Tryst! He reports of a travesty that will befall the people!"
"Tryst?"
Arturia gritted her teeth slightly. Was that not the very same town Merlin said was attacked by a dragon not too long ago? If it was close the Saxon border, then it would not take long for the army to burn through the village and march towards Camelot. More so than for the village though, she was concerned about the places with which Camelot had a trade route in place. If the Saxons tried edging forward too much, it would put those towns at risk, which would severely hamper Camelot's ability to function further.
"Not just Tryst, Your Majesty," the courier continued, holding an arm across his body to cover the wound she had been too preoccupied to notice.
"That wound!" she exclaimed. "We must have you treated immediately!"
"No, Your Majesty, I fear my time is near. Tryst, Your Highness, isn't the only one in danger. Perc and Hwol are within barely a few hours' journey from there. They will all be enveloped if the Saxons are not beaten back to where they belong."
"...How much time is there before the Saxons are due to arrive?"
"Within the week, perhaps sooner..."
The courier was starting to sink down, his wound taking a toll on him. Arturia raised to her full height, coming to the realization that if she did not act promptly, those towns would soon be no longer, and the Saxons would be that much closer to vilifying her lands further.
"You have done your duty well. You may rest."
The courier stared up at her as his eyes began to glaze over. "You...honor me, Your...Majesty..."
"Take him away, Pedr," Arturia directed. With that, she turned swiftly, her cape flowing around her.
She walked up to where her sword, Excalibur lay in its sheath, picking it up and promptly secured it to her belt. For a short moment, she bowed her head, almost as if in prayer. Then, she turned back around, she barely gave Merlin a second glance as she glided past him and out the door. Unbuckling her cape, she tossed it into Ynyr's hands. Her second squire peered up at her, an expression on his befitting that of a future knight. Inwardly, she could say she was proud of his progress, but now was not the time for such thoughts.
"Inform Bedivere to meet me at the gate with three hundred men at the ready. It will take at least three days to reach that area."
"You are leaving?" came Merlin's voice, stopping her in her tracks. "I sense something that will change you forever at your destination. Are you sure about this?"
Arturia didn't even bother to look back, and began to walk down the hallway.
"Be off, quickly!" she commanded Ynyr, unconsciously projecting her authority and ability as a king. "We depart immediately!"
Shirou shoveled another scoop of coal into the hearth fueling the forge. Sweat running down his face, he dropped the shovel and moved to maneuver the large bellows attached. Looking down that the forge, he simultaneously pulled down the lever that would manipulate the bellows to heat up the heath. Shirou backed away from the forge as soon as a large, burly man came walking into the enclosed area.
"Alan," Shirou greeted the man. "Forge is all heated up for you."
"Well, there, lad. You've gone done a good job this time, here," Alan said gruffly, grabbing a small steel ingot. "I'll make a blacksmith out of you yet, boy."
"Hah, I'm just here to help," Shirou replied with a smile. "I don't know a thing about blacksmithing."
"Yeah, you magic types don't really know how to work things like true men. Well, be off with you, then. Ceri's been awaiting your arrival."
Shirou waved as he ran away from the forge, grabbing his tunic top along the way. Every day was filled to the brim with incredibly hard work, so he normally didn't bother wearing a shirt around. It often became very sweaty and really uncomfortable. However, he couldn't really stand showing his bare chest to the women of the village, so he would always pull it back on right before meeting any of them.
Dashing down the main road, his boots scraping against the dirt, he ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back so the sweat wouldn't drip into his eyes. Shirou grinned when a young, blonde woman in her late twenties turned to smile at him, gesturing daintily to the cart next to her. He spared her a quick grin and put himself in between the handles to push it forward.
Ceri looked up at him gently as he pushed the cart forward. "You appeared rushed this morning, Ro. Has Alan been working you hard today?"
"Nah, just the usual," Shirou replied. "Smelt some ingots, heat up the forge, shine the weapons in supply, sweep up the area... You know, same old, same old."
"You'll die an early death, you know."
"Nah, it's the least I can do. Besides, I like helping."
It had been approximately two, almost three months since the dragon incident had occurred. The village had been in such a bad state, it had been difficult for the fifty-some villagers to get by. Luckily, the dragon's fire had not reached as far as their farming lands, but a lot of the trade shops had needed to be rebuilt and restocked. Surprisingly, Tryst was a rather well-known place in the area, as they supplied all the weaponry to surrounding villages and their militia. Tryst also made armor, but it wasn't really comparable to Hwol, a village with half its population proficient in armoring and tailoring. Hwol was hardly a couple hours' walk away, so it was relatively easy to trade product among the towns.
As far as he knew, Tryst traded its weapons for Hwol's clothing and armor, resulting in a more or less equal trade. By extension, Hwol would also lend out a number of its militia to protect the town when danger came. They lived on the outskirts fairly close to the Saxon border, so there was a chance of attack at any time. Shirou wondered why they would stay there knowing they could be killed at any moment, but several people had told him that they were under protection of the great King Arthur. If anything happened to them, King Arthur was sure to come to their defense, although they had yet to actually swear their allegiance to the young king.
He and Ceri were actually on their way to Hwol at that moment. One every month or so, the villagers would consolidate a list of necessary items, and hand her a bag of different elaborate trinkets to cover the costs. Shirou had actually arrived halfway through the cycle, and was too out of commission to walk with her when she went the first time. He had, however, gone the time after that, making this his second trip to Hwol total. It was a fairly easy trip, and even as slow as the two of them walked, it still only took them the better part of a couple of hours. The two were carrying an assortment of weapons in their cart to trade for the clothing. The trinkets were simply in case the trade didn't quite match up enough for the volume of clothes they were buying.
"You know, one day Alec is going to fall on his face with how high he always puts his nose when walking near me."
"Oh, don't mind him," Ceri reassured him. "Alec has always been suspicious of anything that was 'different', so to speak. He would be suspicious of a two-headed chicken if ever he saw one."
"I probably would be, too, actually."
The two shared a laugh, content as they walked along side by side.
Shirou really liked Ceri and being around her. She was actually the one who had nursed back to health while the rest of the village had told her to cast him out. The major reason they hadn't was not because of any expert persuasion by Ceri, but because Shirou had ultimately saved the town from an early demise. Shirou had been unconscious for a solid two weeks, having pushed himself to his limits and his body needing a great amount of rest before it could move around like normal again. Upon finally awaking, he was treated to the scene of Ceri vehemently opposing several men storming into her house to get rid of him. She was a small little thing, with a bark to match her bite. Did all women in the sixth century grow up to have fiery dispositions? Both Ceri and Saber scared him as much as they made him admire them.
Actually, it only made sense that the two of them grew so close so quickly. Shirou, being the foreigner he was, was seen as a threat to everyone's livelihood. He had only been spared his life because of the dragon thing. Ceri, on the other hand, was also an outcast, though for an entirely different reason. According to her, her husband had left the village to volunteer his services in Camelot, but had met his end early during one of the battles against the Saxons. Ceri had received a small settlement to compensate her for her loss, but that would never allow her to forget what her husband had attempted to do. To Ceri, her husband was a hero who fought for what he believed in, and fought to protect not only her, but their town, and their country. Now that he was dead, he would forever be regarded highly in her heart.
The village, on the other hand, felt that by going out and getting himself killed so quickly, he had only brought shame upon them. The husband had been none too popular when alive either, always spouting out his ideals and feeling the need to include himself into everyone else's business. It was unsightly for a man to take such interest in matters of the household, or childrearing, and yet, that is what the man valued most. He had always desired a family of his own with Ceri, but to their dismay, she was proven infertile, and unable to foster any offspring. If the husband could not protect a child of his own, what better than to protect the children of the village? His mother hen tendencies only pushed the other villagers away instead, and in the end, according to the rest of the village, he had escaped to instead prove himself in battle. However, even then, he had only failed as a result.
It was sad, Shirou realized, seeing the telltale signs of Hwol only a few kilometers away. Damned if he did, and damned if he didn't. Ceri's husband seemed to have been doomed from the start. From what Ceri had told Shirou about him, the guy seemed to be rather decent, but born with bad luck. It would've been nice to have had a chance to meet him, though. The town's dislike for Ceri was different though, and he could somewhat see why. If her husband was the most caring man around, she must have been the most beautiful. When her husband had died and left her a widow, Ceri had caught more than a few looks from the other men in the village, married and single. Her eyes were the gentle shade of grass-green, and her lovely blonde hair seemed to glint whenever the sun's rays touched it. She was also ridiculously kind, and always willing to give a helping hand to whomever she thought needed it.
Unfortunately, jealous, older wives had taken notice of their husbands gravitating towards her for something they might have needed mended, or something that they couldn't understand about the "relations between the three villages", or something else equally ridiculous. The men would attend to her at any given moment without her asking for their help whatsoever. The more attention she received from the populous, the angrier housewives became and she was ousted from the circle of women, only receiving their scorn and anger. Very much valuing the friendship of others, and desperately hungry for it so she would no longer be lonely, she instead began turning away help from the men, so they would focus more on their own families and make their wives happy. Expecting everyone to be happy, she was astonished to find out the men were insulted – their help was not good enough for her? After all the time they had helped her out, she was turning them away from her door?
Ceri began to accept it as a truth that she would not be able to satisfy either side, and she retreated to her home, rarely leaving except on her monthly trek to Hwol, and to Perc every so often for meat, and the local market for other groceries. When Shirou had arrived, Ceri had taken care of him not only because she was kind, but to fill in the part of her heart torn away by loneliness. In a way, Shirou helped her to smile again, somewhat. However, she still lived in Tryst, so it wasn't as if she could escape her problems. Shirou was only too glad to help her through her anguish, though, if he could. He knew how it felt to lose someone he loved for eternity – the Saber he had known was gone forever, and even if he did become friendly with the king, she would never be the same as his Saber had been. She wouldn't have gone through everything they had, she wouldn't have already given up on her foolish desire to have the Holy Grail, and she wouldn't have been able to let go of the regret built up within her.
"You know," began Ceri softly, her eyes downcast shyly. "I was born in Hwol, myself."
Shirou looked up, his grimace disappearing as he concentrated on her words. "Huh, not Tryst?"
Ceri shook her head, still smiling gently. "No, I grew up in Hwol, but moved to Tryst after...an incident."
"...Incident?" Shirou asked, not sure if he should have.
"My parents were killed by the Militia Chief when I was all of ten years old, under suspicion of conspiring with enemy spies."
She narrowed her eyes, each green orb hardening as she recalled the past. "Hwol is a town built upon clothing – armoring, tailoring, sewing... Anything that had to do with fabric, material, thread, or any of the sort was something well within Hwol's line of expertise. Naturally, those who could manipulate clothing best were the ones who would receive the most acclaim, and the most envy."
Shirou felt as if she was glaring at the town ahead of them, instead of glaring as a result of being angry. "I take it your parents were good at what they did?"
"They were the absolute best. These are not merely words of pride, but of an absolute fact. Anyone, for all of their jealousy, could say much of the same. The house where I lived was the largest by far, two times bigger than any other, and we could actually afford to sleep on makeshift beds. My parents were that well-off."
"Did they actually talk to any enemy spies?"
"Of course not," the blonde scoffed, as if the idea was nothing short of unbelievable. "All visitors to the town back then were normally regulars – as in, they would come every few months or so on a regular basis. Those who had never been seen before would be trailed by the militia until they had proven themselves trustworthy. My parents were too busy to go out on any trips either – they were always holed up within the shop, making something or another."
"Then how could they have been under suspicion of doing something like that?"
"Someone planted 'evidence' that claimed my father had done something indecent, such as answering to the demands of those foul beasts to the east. He had hardly ever taken a single step out of town, and his contacts were limited to the people who visited the village. How could he have ever done something so elaborate as betray the town?"
"Huh? Why didn't they just analyze the paper for DNA–"
Shirou clapped a hand over his mouth as Ceri glanced at him, seeming somewhat confused. "I'm sorry, what was that, Ro? DN...what?"
"Haha, nothing! Nothing! So, uh," he said quickly, clearing his throat. "So, the police, I mean, militia took away your parents?"
"They burned my father on a stake, as if to make a statement and ward away evil. Evil, in this case, of course being too proficient at something."
O...kay. Why were they talking about this again?
"My mother was then raped by the chief, who was insistent that no one but a whore would marry a criminal."
Oh, wow. Really? That was... Uh, okay. He'd heard worse (he actually hadn't), but...
"So, you were ten when this all happened?" Shirou said, trying to be polite and continue the conversation. He was actually pretty curious on how she could still be so sane even after all that had happened. He probably would've turned into a serial killer or something after that.
"Yes. I had lived a life of relative luxury – of course, nothing compared to what real royalty would have. And yet, the people of Hwol stole that existence from me, for the sake of their own greed. They stole from me my parents, my life, my inheritance, my future, and my soul."
Shirou heard her knuckles pop as she clenched a fist.
"I hated them. Bitterly. I hated them for everything they did, for their greediness, for their ability to hurt the innocent without any concern. I still hate them," she finished, her voice low and brimming with loathing. "I wanted them to suffer in the same way I had. But I was young, without power, without voice and govern. There was nothing I could do, but I couldn't stand to stay there any longer. In rebellion, I fled Hwol. But where was a ten-year-old girl supposed to flee to? I had no choice but to head to a village nearby. I had intended to head to Perc, but somehow found myself in Tryst instead."
"How'd you survive?"
"I sewed," Ceri replied, almost wistfully. "That was all I had known how to do, and Tryst did not have anyone with as much expertise as I had, so a family was quick to take me in. I gained them renown, and they gave me bread and abed. There was nothing more I could ask for at that point."
Shirou tilted his head, smiling a bit. "So, you learned to forgive and forget then?"
"No. I hated. At first I thought I would try to escape the reality I had lived and move on, but then Hwol accused the family I was with of stealing their village's secrets. That was their line of expertise – Tryst, a blacksmithing and farming village should not have been able to reproduce something of excellent quality in that trade. So then, that family, too, was taken from me, after three years of living with them. I returned home one morning after spending the night at a friend's house to find the stabbed bodies of the entire family.
"They would not kill me, but were not against killing those who came into contact with me!"
Ceri had stopped walking, her shoulders trembling as she recalled her past. "Tryst, too, looked to spite me. The family at whose house I had spent the night over claimed I had never been there, and that they had nothing to do with me. I was cursed, they said. Anyone who came into contact with me would be cursed, they said. Was losing my second family not enough? I had to lose my reputation as well?"
Wow, the girl was on a roll. He knew better than to interrupt a woman's tirade, though he had to say that Rin's rants had never been so...dramatic. No, ex that. They had. They just didn't make him feel bad for whoever Rin was ranting about – in a way, she was always wrong somehow, so he could only pity her instead. It was usually her own fault, after all.
"I wanted to slash open their abdomen, pull out their entrails and hang the people by them like the filth they are. Then I wanted to burn the villages to the ground, laugh as the land scorched to nothing, and revel in the glory."
Shirou snapped out of his reminiscing and stared at Ceri, mouth agape. She wanted to what? Hang them by their organs? What the fuck?
"...Why didn't you?" he asked warily.
"I changed my mind," she answered calmly, as if that answered everything.
He wanted to ask what was the cause of her transforming from a terrifying teenager to the calm, reassuring woman next to him, but they had already entered the village by that point. As soon as the two had stepped foot into Hwol, Ceri clammed up, only displaying a smile for the people she ran into. Shirou watched the blonde carefully as she bent down to talk to the children who would run up to her, patting them on their heads and trading with them kind and gentle words. Then she would stand, smile back at him as well, and continue walking forward towards one of the several shops along the main road.
They would go by several shops, dropping off weaponry and picking up clothing and material instead. Even after trading all of their goods and receiving the requested clothing, Ceri had him visit one more shop with her.
Shirou looked down at the cart of clothing, not sure if it was a good idea to leave it unattended. Ceri pulled on his hand insisting that he come with her. Sighing, Shirou walked inside beside her, looking around with a bit of curiosity. He had never actually gone into any of the shops, and it was always interesting seeing how bare they were in comparison to stores in the future. The future would have clothes upon clothes all ready for selling to interested customers, but the shops here in the past simply had the material on display. Interested customers would choose the material of their fancy and the clothing would be specially made for that one particular customer, and none other.
Ceri greeted the shop owner, bowing her head a bit.
"Do you have what I ordered last month?"
"Yes," the woman behind the counter answered courteously. "Just finished it a few days ago. It should be ready for the young sir to wear whenever he would like."
Shirou raised an eyebrow when the lady gestured to him, confused on how he fit into all of this. Ceri turned to him, teeth showing as she truly smiled at him. He had never seen her look so at ease before. It completely went against the opinion he had formed of her from her story, but coincided well with his opinion of her from the past two months. He wasn't exactly sure of how to think of her.
The shop owner bent down to retrieve something from behind the counter and came back up with a package, holding it out to him. Shirou stared at it for a bit before looking back at Ceri.
"Think of it as a gift. Your own clothes won't last for much longer as it is."
Shirou's heart skipped a beat. She...had bought him new clothes? After living with her, he knew she didn't own much. She couldn't afford to buy many pleasantries, and spent most of her time knitting and sewing by hand to make ends meet. When she traded off her works, they were used to pay for the levies for maintaining the militia in Tryst and to buy themselves food and drink. Her house was old, too, and needed several repairs. Shirou had worked on several already, but even he had a limit. He couldn't make something out of nothing for a long period of time without raising suspicion. To be blunt, there were a lot of things she needed, and he was in no position to get them for her, and yet...she had bought him clothes? He was part of the reason she was having even more trouble buying enough sustenance for the two of them, and the reason she had to work deep into the night to finish her projects.
Shirou didn't know what to think. He reached for the package with trembling hands, unable to express his surprise, joy, or pain. This...was a kind gift. She was kind. Her past didn't matter – all that mattered was what she did now. He had a bad past, too, didn't he? He left all of those people in the fire to die, and again when he went to the basement. They all died so he that he could be saved. Maybe he hadn't wanted to cut them open and burn their livelihood – at least, he didn't think he did – but he was no better. Shirou wasn't any kind of saint. He had no reason to doubt her when he wasn't perfect himself.
Shirou pressed his lips together to keep them from quivering. He hadn't wanted to cry for a long time, but it had been a long time since a complete stranger had helped him just because they could.
Not wanting to let the gift go to waste, he grinned at Ceri, forcing his tears back. "Can I try them on now?"
She looked back at him, seemingly taken aback. Perhaps she hadn't expected him to be so happy over receiving something from her, especially after the story she had told. It pleased her that she could make someone so happy over something as menial as new clothing.
"Nothing would make me happier," she responded with a smile of her own.
Shirou placed the package back onto the counter and quickly tore off his shirt – both sleeves had been lost long ago and the trim had been steadily unraveling day by day. Ceri and the shop owner turned their heads away when he took off his boots – they were still in pretty good shape, as far as leather went – and then shimmied out of his pants. He quickly untied the straps around the package and opened it up, holding up the new tunic to look at it better.
It was a brown tunic, made of a very thick and heavy material. It had red embroidering along the shoulders, and for the trim on the sleeves and bottom of the shirt. It was simple, but beautiful. He slipped it on quickly, finding that it was far softer than the one Myrus had given him. He turned to grab the breeches next, slipping them on quickly to appease the nervous women. As soon as his boots were back on, he twirled around.
"How do I look?"
Both women turned their gazes back to him, and Ceri giggled softly, a hand raised to cover her mouth as she did.
"Absolutely dashing."
Ceri turned towards the other woman, bowed her head again and looped her arm through Shirou's, smiling all the while. "Shall we head home?"
"Of course, my lady."
The two walked out of the shop arm in arm, each in a chipper mood. Shirou got behind the cart again and started to push it forward while Ceri matched his pace and walked next to him. They walked back down the main road, heading back towards Tryst. Shirou kept looking down at his new clothing, before looking up to see where he was going with a grin each time. Ceri cracked a joke about him being afraid to lose his clothing as he wore it and he laughed. It was just such a good gift that he couldn't help but check every now and then.
As they walked along the dirt path that fed towards some of the farm plots, Shirou looked down at the cart for a few moments before raising his head again.
"Hey Ceri?" he started, getting her attention. "About our conversation earlier... You said you changed your mind. What changed it?"
Her features were warm – she seemed pleased that he would see past what she had told him before and still be interested in what more she had to say. She fiddled with her own long tunic for a while as she recalled more of her past.
"You know of Tryst's relationship with Perc, yes? Tryst supplies them with vegetables from our own gardens, and our various chicken hatches, and Perc, in return, gives us milk and meat from their cattle ranches. They also give us manure to use for our farms. Perc is a bit farther inland, but it has enough space for a few hundred cattle. They have both milk and beef cows, and when both types of cows die, their leather is used for armoring and tailoring, which is the connection they have to Hwol. In return, Hwol, of course, grants them militiamen to make do with. The horns are also used as a material for blacksmithing as well."
Shirou nodded as Ceri spoke, having only known a bit about the three villages' relationship.
"I would often go to Perc to trade my wares for milk – I believe I made the trek at least once a week, if I could. Times were difficult, and I sometimes had to pull all-nighters to get anything finished. I was a horrible girl, never wanting anything to do with anyone anymore. My personality had become twisted and horrid, cruel. I treated the shopkeepers as if they were mongrels, or bugs far beneath me. They were a good sort, though, the people of Perc. They would wait for my tirades to finish before completing the deal as usual. In fact, thinking back on it, they treated me far too well for my attitude towards them."
Her expression turned solemn. "I hadn't known that there was a man who would offer them his body for whatever chores they needed doing so long as they continued to see past my horrid exterior and trade with me. He would be up well before dawn and asleep well past dusk, performing whatever duties the people of Perc asked of him simply so I could keep trading, and living. The man – Rhys was his name – was in love with me, I later found out. Had been for years, but I was too invested in my schemes to pay him any notice. He even asked me to marry him when I turned twenty."
"Wow, that's pretty cool. So, that's when you got married?"
"Absolutely not. I hardly knew the man, didn't care for him at all, and thought his proposal was preposterous."
Shirou chuckled, believing she would think something like that. "But you did eventually, right?"
"Eventually. His ridiculous proposals only grew more ridiculous, and at some point, I wasn't even sure why I had turned him down so much in the first place."
Ceri squared her shoulders, looking towards Tryst only a little ways ahead of them at that point.
"I hated Tryst. I hated everyone. But he...somehow, managed to make me see things I originally couldn't. He made me learn to appreciate the things I had, in spite of the things I had lost. He truly loved all of the people, and would have done anything in his power to protect them. I thought him to be a complete and utter fool, but perhaps it was I who was the fool for falling in love with him."
Shirou let out a sigh of relief – her life had changed around because her Rhys had healed the scars in her heart. It was nice to know that at least love was no different no matter what the time period.
"I'm glad you were able to change for the better," Shirou said happily. "You're a great woman. I'd hate for that greatness to be overshadowed by regret and hatred."
"Oh, no, Ro," Ceri corrected Shirou. "I still very much hate them. Absolutely loathe them. But I will protect them and help them to the best of my abilities, because that is something he would have done, without fail. I will honor his memory by protecting the people he loved most."
Shirou sighed again. Well, as long as her heart was in the right place, he guessed that was okay.
About half an hour later, the two were back in Tryst, delivering the orders of clothing. After completing the deliveries, the two of them went to go get some vegetables. Since Shirou had been doing favors all around the village ever since waking up, they got plenty to go for a few nights' dinners. Shirou stole a few heads of cabbage from Ceri and ran off down the street, much to her surprise. She was further surprised when he came back, holding a bleeding package and a couple of eggs with a large grin on his face.
"I'll make us a dinner fit for a king!" he exclaimed happily, gesturing towards the package. "Ceri, if you warm up the hearth, I'll start prepping everything!"
"How exciting!" she said, clapping her hands joyfully after setting down the bag of vegetables. "I would never have thought I would meet a man who could cook, and would happily do so!"
"Heh, I'm no ordinary guy," Shirou said with a smirk. "Watch and be amazed."
The two paid no attention to whoever might have been staring at them and each one laughed readily. Then, together, they headed back to Ceri's house, with her immediately putting some firewood into the hearth and starting a fire. Shirou set the bleeding package on a large stone block, grimacing when the blood began to form a small cesspool.
"Oh yeah, Ceri, can you get the seasonings for me?"
"Of course. Basil, salt, pepper, and...honey, right, Ro?"
"Yep. Thanks."
After being with Ceri for so long, he had finally gotten used to her nickname for him: Ro. Most of the villagers couldn't pronounce his name, but for the most part, no one bothered to acknowledge him directly anyway. Ceri had come up with the nickname, and unfortunately, it had stuck. He supposed it was better than "Dragon Vanquisher," which is what most of the kids had run around calling him.
Oh yeah, Shirou thought, looking up from chopping the slab of steak. I'd forgotten all about that...
Honestly, Shirou had never intended to stay in Tryst for the near three months he had, but one thing had led to another, and before he knew it, he was helping out every single villager that demanded something of him. In a way, he felt bad because it was his fault the entire village had been in such a disarray – thanks to the dragon, he had flown through an entire row of houses. It was a wonder he was even still alive.
When he'd woken up two weeks after the incident, he'd already been in Ceri's care, though, most of the village cursed the idea of his existence. Shirou hadn't found out what had happened to the dragon until much later.
Apparently, he'd somehow killed the dragon, though it had definitely been a fluke. When he had pierced the dragon's eyes, the magic in his weapons had turned the beast blind. The smoke from the village must have confused its senses, and it tried to flee into the air to regroup and restart its terrorization. When the dragon had come down to take vengeance on Shirou, it had flown in the wrong direction entirely towards the ocean instead. As a result of two of its senses having been destroyed, the dragon ended up flying out towards the North Sea where it ended up sinking and drowning. All in all, it had been an anticlimactic end.
The villagers, in their ignorance, had simply thought that had been his intention from the start. Hah, no, he wasn't capable of planning anything that far in advance. As time went by, the villagers grudgingly realized he was not there to kill them, stake them, or whatever else they thought he would do, and starting warming up, slightly. However, with his red hair, most could not really take him too, too lightly. They apparently thought he was Scottish, but his eyes were too slanted to be a normal European. So then they thought he was a demon Scot, risen from Hell to spurn them all. So, he went from Dragon Vanquisher to Scot Demon.
Shirou sighed. Now, he was just known as Errand Boy, though the old people still called him Scot Demon on occasion.
He knew that he should have moved on from Tryst, even if he had wanted to help out. Who knew what was going on with Arturia, or if she was in danger. Wait, no. She was always in danger, it was just a matter of how much. He wanted to leave, he truly did, but he felt like there was a reason he had to stick around for a while longer.
Shirou turned around, having cut all of the vegetables and the steak. "Ceri, is all the stuff ready to go?"
"Yes," she replied, looking over at him from the cooking spit. "The water is boiling for you in the pot, Ro."
"Great. Let's get started."
Ceri pulled Shirou by the hand towards a large hill a kilometer or so away from Tryst. She had pulled at him the entire way through, but the temperature had sunken sharply within the past week since they had returned from Hwol. His breath came out in white puffs of air each time and he shivered a bit, wanting to sit and do nothing next to the fire instead of venturing out into the cold.
"Ceri, what's going on?" Shirou complained while he followed her to the top of the hill. "It's cold. I swear that it's like less than ten degrees out here. I'm freezing."
"Just a moment," she chastised him, hands on her hips. "This won't take long. I just want to show you something."
It was already dark, so dark that it was difficult to see much. However, the sight Shirou saw when they made it to the top made him gasp out with pleasure.
The moon glittered down on the faraway ocean, causing each wave and crest to shine brightly through the pitch dark night. He watched, with his archer eyes amplified, as the waves rolled over and over, crashing into the beach sand with a gentle rumble. He couldn't hear it, of course, but he imagined that the sound would definitely be gentle. It was odd, having come from Japan, but he had never actually been to the ocean before – not even when he moved to Britain. He simply hadn't really been interested in going to the beach, and didn't think he really deserved to enjoy life much anyway back then.
Shirou frowned slightly. Beyond this hill, barely some fifty kilometers away, was Saxon land, and just beyond that was their home territory. Tryst, Hwol, and Perc really were incredibly close to the enemy, but he knew they were far too proud to move away. As Ceri had put it, that was the land their fathers and forefathers before them had worked so hard to build up, so they had a duty to ensure everything stayed as it was, come what may.
He ground his teeth slightly. Shirou just couldn't understand the importance of pride and duty that every single person in this time period stressed so much. Something like pride shouldn't force you to put your life in danger knowingly, especially when there were other ways to achieve the same thing. Saber's ridiculous pride and desire to see things through on her own terms had caused him no end of trouble, and if she could have just sucked it up a few times, neither of them would have gotten kicked around so much. Her pride though, had been the only thing she'd had left after losing both her country and her people. Perhaps, it was the same thing for these people – maybe their town was all they had left to live for. If so, could he really say they were so stupid for believing what they did? He had his pride, too, as a man, although that was comparing apples to oranges.
Shirou was snapped out of his train of thought when he felt something wrap around his neck. He looked down at Ceri in front of him, blinking a few times as she smiled back at him. Shirou touched the cloth around his neck, feeling the thickness and warmth from it.
"Ceri..." he started, stopping when she shook her head.
"No, this is a present from me to you. You've truly been a godsend, Ro, no, Shi-ro-u. Shirou. I really was lonely and you have brightened up my life so much lately... I am not good at thanking people with words, so, I worked really hard to make sure you would have this in time for the cold weather."
Shirou looked down at the knitted scarf, closing his eyes as he tilted his head back. There it was again, that feeling that he couldn't express. He was gracious, but...did he truly deserve this kind of present, when he'd only brought danger upon the village? His fists clenched tightly and he gritted his teeth. This was too much.
Ceri jolted forward slightly, her eyes wide before she closed them with a soft sigh. Taking a couple steps forward towards Shirou, she wrapped her arms around him, causing him to stiffen up.
"Shirou," she sighed out, burying her head in his shirt. "Those who come in contact with you are blessed, more than anyone else. I don't know why you hate yourself, but I plead that you not follow my example and look toward the future as a new life, instead of focusing so much on the past. The chains of the past will only drag you down to the depths of Hell with them, and once you get that far, there will be no chance of escape for you."
Shirou opened his eyes, looking at the moon as Ceri continued speaking.
"Shirou, I know this might be too much for me to ask of you, but I want you to stay and be one with these people. I may hate them, but you... You are too good for that. Much too good. Their ignorance blinds them, but you can make them see. I ask that you stay, and protect them as I have been unable to. They deserve that much."
"Ceri, I..."
Shirou looked back down at her, ready to tell her that he couldn't do something like that when he noticed it. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her off of him, staring into her eyes. He felt his heart stop when he saw her beautiful green eyes glazed over, a smile frozen on her face.
"Ceri...? Ceri? Ceri!"
He shook her back and forth a bit, before turning her around to look at the arrow embedded into her back. His teeth clacked a bit as his lips started to tremble. Shirou's eyes widened and his hands started to shake as he gripped her shoulders tighter.
"Ceri! Ceri, Ceri, wake up! Wake up, Ceri!"
He heard the whisper of an arrow flying past him before he saw it. Turning back away from the fallen Ceri in his arms, Shirou looked down at the arrow lodged into the grass and dirt.
Ah, so that was it...
Ceri had been killed by the enemy...
The Saxons had killed Ceri...
She was dead, now...
He laid down her body, looking over the ridge at the now obvious troop of fifty coming his way. Shirou felt his blood start boiling, his anger over losing Ceri to such a stupid situation causing him to lose hold of rational thought.
"You killed her," he muttered, his golden-brown eyes flashing as a switch flipped from within him.
He heard the sound of armor clanking as the enemy started running up the hill to take care of him as well.
"You," he murmured softly, anger beginning to peak as he swirled around with two long swords in his hands, "KILLED HER!"
The two soldiers must have thought him to be helpless and incapable of battle as Shirou's swords easily sliced through the breaches in their armor, effectively killing them. Shirou didn't even bat an eye as the two men fell at his feet – his eyes were on the enemies roaring ahead towards the town.
"NO, I won't let you!" he screamed out, thrusting a hand forward with several swords appearing over his head. "You'll die here, by my hands!"
Several men at the vanguard turned around when they heard blood-curdling screams as soldiers died behind them. They looked up at the hill to see a man with flowing red tresses and golden-brown eyes silhouetted by the shining moon behind him. A few of the fifty men took a step back, some mumbling of magicians as they saw one sword after another suddenly appear in the air above the redhead. Had they been able to see Shirou's expression, they might have run away without even considering striking back.
"Archers, take him down!" cried one man, the apparent leader of the group. "Britain will be ours!"
Then several archers immediately took aim and let out a barrage of arrows. Shirou raised a hand as five swords sped forward, easily slicing through the iron arrows and piercing each archer through the slits in their helmets.
The leader hesitated before pointing his sword up at the red demon, shouting,
"Charge!"
Shirou simply stared down at them, his gaze cold as he clenched the two swords in his hands. He didn't need any special tricks to take any of them. The bugs were swarming towards him like gnats to a flame – he needed only apply some pesticide to rid himself of them.
"Not a single one of you is leaving this place alive," he warned softly, raising the sword in his right hand straight up.
The oncoming soldiers rushed him, and he let loose a toothy grin, eyes burning as he yelled,
"Now die!"
The swords tilted down before plunging through the air, slamming into one soldier after another and sending them flying back down the hill. Shirou created so many swords that three or four swords would hit each surprised soldier, killing them instantly. Bending down close to the ground, Shirou rushed down the hill, his feet pounding against the ground as he leapt up into the air. The leader stared as Shirou flew down and couldn't even raise his sword to block as Shirou slammed the swords through the man's chainmail.
"You bastards... I'll kill every last one of you if I have to..." Shirou growled out, his hands still shaking as he forced his anger back. "I'll make you suffer..."
"You won't have the chance," the leader gasped out, blood spurting out of his mouth as he attempted to talk. "We're just the reconnaissance team... There are more than five hundred men on their way here... You can't stop them all..."
"You bastards!" Shirou shouted, plunging the swords in further as he grew even angrier.
The chains of the past will only drag you down to the depths of Hell with them, and once you get that far, there will be no chance of escape for you.
Shirou's head popped up as Ceri's words rang through his mind. He looked down at the soldier had just killed, seeing the man's eyes staring back at him, cold and lifeless.
"Ah!" Shirou cried out, falling backwards and pushing himself away from the body until he felt his back hit something else. Shirou looked back behind him at another soldier who had fallen by his hand, the projected weapon already having long vanished.
"Ah..."
He looked around him at the fallen bodies of all of the soldiers. He stood up quickly, his face stark with terror at what he had done – he'd killed another human being! He'd killed, and hadn't cared at all as he'd done so! His mouth gaped open at the destruction before him, his right eye twitching as he realized what all he had done. Grasping at his head with his hands, he took in deep breaths, knowing he couldn't turn back time. He'd killed people...
Shirou had never killed another human being before. Demons, corporeal spirits, sure, but actual humans? This was...what was he supposed to do now? He was supposed to save people, not hurt them. What kind of superhero would he become if he lost his senses and killed without discrimination? No, Shirou was not that type of person. Ceri had died, but...they were the enemy. Of course they would attack the first citizen they saw.
No, he would not make excuses for them. They deserved to die. No, they didn't deserve to die, they were just...
They were the enemy.
They weren't his enemies.
They were her enemies.
That made them his enemies.
Shirou's hands fell from down to his sides as he finally calmed down. Yes, they were her enemy, so he would've had to kill people like them at some point. It's just that it happened sooner than he had thought, and at his own discretion. He covered his face with his right hand, sighed once, and opened his weary eyes.
"More are on their way. I have to warn the village... But before that, one last thing."
Shirou walked slowly back up the hill where he had just enjoyed the sight with the first friend he had made in this time period. He stopped just short of where her body was, looking down at it with little emotion on his face. If he'd been more attentive, he could have saved her, but because he was still lacking, she had to die to make him understand his position better.
Wordlessly projecting a shovel, he walked past Ceri's body and dug the shovel into the hard ground. He shoveled one pile of dirt after another, never saying a word nor thinking a single thought. He wasn't able to do anything for her when she had been alive, and now he would never have the chance to pay her back for everything she had done for him. Building her a grave overlooking the view she had loved so much was the least he could do.
Shirou pulled himself out of the hole, and walked back to Ceri's body.
"I wish I could bury you next to him, Ceri. But I'm afraid this is the best I can do for you."
He picked up her cold body, the body that had been hugging him less than an hour before, and gripped it tightly. Shirou turned back to the hole, jumping down into it and lying down her body in the dirt. He didn't have anything to wrap her in, and didn't have enough time to make a coffin, so he could only return her to the earth and hope she would be happy enough with that. After laying her down, he pulled himself back out of the pit and after making one last glance at her, started shoveling the dirt back into the hole.
Fifteen minutes passed before he was finished entirely, and he patted the ground a few times with the shovel, ensuring it was packed enough. Shirou dematerialized the shovel, and turned his back on the grave. His eyes closed and he began to walk away when he heard,
"Thank you, Ro..."
Shirou's eyes widened and his head spun back to stare behind him. His shoulders dropped when he realized she wasn't there, and that she really was dead. Gritting his teeth, he clenched his hand into a fist and aimed the fist at Ceri's grave.
"I promise you, no, I vow to you, that I will protect the villages with my life. I will not let a single person be harmed!"
He turned back around, expression determined as he walked back down the hill, the moonlight casting its glow over him all the while.
Thoughts? I'm willing and ready to hear what everyone thinks.