Genesis 8: The Crow
Shirou hardly awoke to a recovered state; a piercing migraine began heckling him immediately. A splitting pain ran down his body, but his focus had somewhat returned, and he was glad for that. Standing was a much less daunting task than before, but that was about all he could do without straining himself.
As he turned about the entranceway of the castle, he found himself alone. Had they taken the fight elsewhere? Walking outside the castle, he turned to face its walls, noting the damage that had been done to the building.
Finally alone with his thoughts, Shirou had the opportunity to take a step back and rationalize. Why are Servants here? Is there another War? A feeling of nostalgia struck him, and he reminisced of earlier times, when heroics and virtue were at the forefront of his very existence. But what of the present? Amidst Servants, he was no match alone. What was to be done in his case? Realizing the futility of overzealous hopes, Shirou carelessly tossed those thoughts away.
"Ahem," Sakura announced from behind Shirou. "Senpai, do you know how hard it is to follow you sometimes? I've been searching all around the city since you ran off. I probably would have never found you if I didn't notice the flash of light over here."
It had traveled that far?
It was hard to take Sakura's soft-spoken reprimands seriously. As she was about to lecture Shirou some more, he turned to reveal his poorly-bandaged wounds. Growing wide-eyed with worry, Sakura ran forward to take a closer look. The blood flow had stopped long ago, but the injuries still needed intensive care.
"Senpai! We have to get you home." Sakura shrieked. "I have everything there."
"That won't be necessary," a man's voice called from nearby.
Mordred slammed his fists against a wooden table, reducing its center to splinters and causing it to collapse to the floor of the abandoned shack. Rising from his chair, he began pacing furiously, wrought with frustration. He hadn't been able to pry the golden bangles from his wrists this whole time, but he didn't even care at this point. They simply gave him more weight to swing around in his fit of rage.
"Damn it! Why is it he that came to be summoned? Of all the knights…"
"He's that powerful, you say?"
"Powerful enough to taunt me? Powerful enough to make a fool of me? Perhaps. See the way he fights, as if he has no need to strike his opponent."
"Well, you did almost kill him back there," Ken remarked. The color had seemingly returned to his face, and he was able to breathe freely now. "But I don't know if I can handle the air in that place again."
The Servant refused to look at his Master. He simply exhaled, reclaiming his composure. This was the first time Ken had seen his Servant react this way.
"He, who has never fallen in battle? He, who has never sinned, and is said to be blessed by God's radiance? He, who has such a profound degree of protection? How could one have summoned such a man?"
Mordred's sudden lack of confidence seemed to rub off on his Master, and at once the man seemed uneasy.
"Well, we don't need to fight him. Maybe we should just forg-"
"But o', would I love to smile upon his dying face, gasping for air," Mordred muttered, allowing a grin to cross his lips. For a moment, his wicked imagination overcame him, and he clenched his fists, as if he were set only on picturing the very image.
The Master was silent, but his fear of confronting Rider was becoming readily apparent. His discomfort grew as Mordred's deluded tirade continued.
"He is too confident a knight. I shall find him. I shall strike him down. He will crumble beneath my feet. I will have the last laugh."
"But how would you kill him?"
"I ask you, Ken," Mordred questioned, picking up his blade and toying with the hilt. "Do you know why chivalry weakens a knight?"
The Servant smiled amidst his Master's silence.
"Such a thing works only when both parties submit."
--
Looking about for the source of the voice, Shirou eventually noticed a figure sitting on a wayward branch of a tree on the outskirts of the forest. Dressed in an unruly brown jacket, tattered slacks, and a pair of cheap aviators, the man seemed to come straight from the homeless demographic. Tossing a cigarette butt to the ground, he blew out wisps like a weary dragon, taking his time in addressing the pair.
"Shirou Emiya. Foster son of Kiritsugu Emiya. Indecisive winner of the fifth and final Fuyuki War, in conjunction with a Saber-class Servant in the model of Arthur Pendragon of England. Resides at 29-3 Osaka Street in the Houjou District. Notable deeds number in the hundreds, yet none have been publicized. Unaffiliated magecraft user specializing in Gradation Air. Have I forgotten anything?"
Shirou was taken aback by this strikingly precise recitation. Who exactly was this man?
"Miss Matou can go on her way. I have no business with her," the man said indifferently, waving her off coldly.
"Who are you?" Sakura queried with an irritable tone.
Letting himself fall from the tree, the man landed with the grace of a feline, silent and delicate upon the wood-ridden grass. Rearranging and dusting off his ragged clothes, the man cleared his throat.
"Well, I suppose introductions are in order," he acknowledged, gradually assuming a more formal tone. "My full name is Edward Javier Solana, but they call me Crow. As member of the Mage's Association, I've been charged with intel collection in the Fuyuki area. Since you met up with a rebellious Master and her Servant, I've been following you closely. I have a few questions to ask you, Mister Emiya. Under the authority given to me outside of national law, I have the command to take action should you refuse, but I'm sure you wouldn't mind a simple conversation, would you?"
"So you've been stalking him," Sakura pressed. "And what right do you have to threaten us?"
Edward took no effort to address the girl. As firm and mature as she'd become, she was yet to display much sincerity in her confidence. Her assertiveness almost seemed rehearsed.
"Well? Would you entertain me with a few words? I had to wait this whole time until you awoke, so I gather I'm entitled to at least that much."
Shirou questioned this man's intents, but perhaps there was a way to find out more about the situation through his questions. There was no doubt that this man knew more than he did. Nodding reluctantly, Shirou elicited a polite smile from the magus.
"Good. Let's go inside and talk, then. Miss Matou, as one of Mister Emiya's possible confidantes, you're welcome to come. Although I'm reluctant to allow this, I'm sure any information he has to disclose to me, he will make available to you, regardless."
As they stepped over the corpses and rubble inside, Sakura couldn't believe the chaos that had ensued in her absence. Edward chucked at Sakura's expression, taking a seat on one of the fallen magi.
"Go ahead. Pull up a seat. Make yourself comfortable," Edward said with the utmost airiness. Noting that the pair simply stared at him, he smiled and lit another cigarette, proceeding to take out a small, spiral notebook.
"All right then. First question. Have you previously known or seen either this Master or her Servant?"
"Never."
"Have you, at any time, given your name or hinted towards your identity to either said person?"
Shirou found Edward's tone and manner of questioning peculiar. Had they not been in a derelict castle filled with dead bodies, he would have mistaken the talk for a job interview. Shirou nodded; the man looked at him for a moment before returning to scribbling diligently in his notebook.
"You gave your full name?"
Shirou nodded.
"What, outside of what is readily visible, do you know of the Master?"
"She barely told me anything. Christie. From the United States."
"Oh, Christie, was it," Edward chuckled. "It seems she tells every person a different name nowadays. I begin to wonder if she has a real name at all. Interesting choice she made this time, though. You took such a long walk with her, and all you were able to do is get a fake name? You must be great with the ladies."
Was this his method of making small talk? Sakura looked off into the distance, seemingly discomforted by the man's words. As the conversation continued, her gaze was unmoving.
"Now answer my question," Shirou pressed. "Who is she?"
"Oh, that's a small matter. I'm not at liberty to discuss that, anyways."
This answer perplexed Shirou, and it only served to raise a myriad of other questions.
"Although, I'd advise you to turn tail if you ever see this… 'Christie' again. They say her Servant is one of the strongest ever witnessed. Born of the greatest Heroic Spirit," Edward declared, taking another puff. "But that's just what I heard. Who knows for sure?"
Shirou paused for a moment, recalling another question that'd been pestering him.
"If the Holy Grail was destroyed, then why are there still Servants? Haven't the wars ended?"
Producing a stream of gray clouds, Edward sighed, his tone losing its formality and professionalism. "Ugh. Okay, look here, kid. Since you're not a magus, I'll cut you some slack. What your Servant destroyed was the Fuyuki Grail – what you so readily call "the Holy Grail." A construct of three families' delusions of grandeur, if you will."
How did this man know so much? Did the Mage's Association really have eyes and ears everywhere? As he spoke, his words seemingly caught Sakura's interest, and she began to listen attentively.
"Apart from the Fuyuki Grail is what we call the Throne of Heroes, which was the source of Fuyuki's Servants. An extension of the very core of all existence. I somehow find it hard to believe that you could have destroyed such a thing. Wouldn't you say the same?"
The magus paused for a moment, making sure Shirou was following. "The Fuyuki Grail and its imposed jurisdictions for the Fuyuki Wars – they all originate from the Third Magic." He paused. "Shirou, what do you think would happen if someone were to replicate that Magic?"
"It would take an extraordinary magus," Shirou crossed his arms, satisfied at being able to answer. He wasn't as clueless as Edward proposed.
"Incorrect. It would take an extraordinary magician," Edward corrected. "Someone whose power exceeds any of us here. One who can recreate the Third Magic used in the Greater Grail without the use of such a mechanism – such people were thought to have perished long ago. But the Association – no. The world has taken notice of Fuyuki's Servant system. We are not the only ones who have researched in this field. As you can see, the Einzberns had gathered a great deal of magi here to do their own research, although they didn't get very far. We recently succeeded in producing a homunculus with the capacity to summon a relatively weak Saber-class Servant, but she was too trusting. The man you encountered was Kenichi Fujita, a former love interest of said homunculus. He was able to deceive her and rob her of her command spells. And what a hassle that was! All those years of research."
"But he wouldn't be able to keep the Servant intact," Shirou added, remembering Shinji Matou's plight and how Rin explained it to him.
"Indeed, Mister Emiya. Fujita is a relatively insignificant magus. I reckon he'll only be able to maintain his Servant for three or four more days if both of them survive," Edward mentioned with a chuckle. "What a waste."
If both of them survive?
"It's apparent you've been kept in the dark about most of this, but that's to be expected, I suppose. Regardless, you two, keep this in mind: what we're dealing with here transcends any of your little wars over some artificial 'grail.' This whole thing is bigger than you, so I suggest that when we're done here, you go home and let the big boys play."
"But why would someone summon a Servant without a war?"
Edward was silent. He simply looked down at his notes, reviewing them briefly. "Mister Emiya, I think I've answered enough of your questions, and you too few of mine. Now, if you could answer these next few to the best of your ability, I'll be on my way."