Chapter Twelve: The Black Card, Part One

It was late at night when Clare snuck out of her room at the inn in Sandro to an alley on the other side of the village.

Her eyes picked out the figure sitting on the empty crates easily enough. It was a man in black, his tunic and slacks hiding a scrawny figure beneath. Though he looked old and frail, Louvre had a mysterious air that he sported with a sly smile and a pair of dark shades. The hat on his head was what bother Clare the most.

"You choose strange company," Louvre remarked.

Clare did not comment, instead accepting the bundled package the man in black brought with him. Bound in cord and sheet was a spare uniform and pieces of armor. In the privacy of the alley behind the inn, Clare stoically shed her damaged equipment. A dented pauldron clattered on the ground beside the torn remnants of her quilted cotton suit. After undoing the cord, she evaluated and equipped the contents of the package.

Louvre continued as Clare changed. "The boy I understand. He reminds you of yourself, does he not? But I did not expect a man. I have administered to many warriors in my time in the Organization, and this is a first."

"It is nothing to be concerned of," Clare said.

Louvre smiled. "I'm not concerned. It is actually quite a welcome, fascinating development."

Clare slid her blade into the specialized harness across her shoulder blades.

"You see, after the conversion process, warriors tend to lose the ability to feel interpersonal bonds with normal humans to a varying degree. It's a certain kind of apathy, if you will. It doesn't get in the way of a warrior's duty. Not often, at least. But it does create an irreversible split between the warriors and normal humans, though exceptions like Teresa exist. Love is strictly impossible for warriors to feel as far as I am aware of."

"I am not in love with anyone," Clare said.

"Exactly. Which is why I am curious about the reason you are staying with that man. You know a normal person like him is only a burden to you."

"I choose to. Is that not enough?"

"It is until your performance suffers. As number forty-seven, you have little leeway for mistakes."

Clare said nothing.

Louvre's smile fell. "Very well. I will learn more by myself. As for my other business―" He produced a black envelope from his pocket. Clare visibly froze. Idly, he turned the envelope in between his fingers. "Yes, you understand what this is."

"I-I'm not... I haven't―"

Louvre extended the card to her. "It is for you."

Clare accepted the envelope quietly. Turning it in her hands, she opened the envelope and found a smaller, black piece of stiff paper with a red insignia inscribed on one face. Recognizing the insignia immediately, Clare's expression hardened.

"You'd best hurry," Louvre said. "These are troubling times. Who knows what may happen?"

"The yoma have been behaving strange lately," Clare reported as she slid the black card into a fold in her uniform. "I've seen large Voracious Eaters in greater quantities, and many, many more variants of lesser yoma. They are no longer content with hiding among the people, instead overrunning entire towns with their numbers. Is there something happening that I should be aware of?"

Louvre's toothy grin was haunting. His teeth looked sharp in the moonlight.

"Does it matter?" he asked. "You are a warrior. Do as you do."

"Understood." She turned and left. Soon, the alley itself was empty.

"The Schiele Mountains?"

"Exactly northwest of them. I have a comrade waiting for me there."

Shirou studied the map laid on the table in his room. A finger traced the distance between Sandro to the lines that represented the Schiele Mountains. With a contemplative but slightly frustrated expression, he addressed Clare. "This map isn't to scale. How many days will the travel take?"

"Ten days by foot, eight by horse."

"Horse? Is there a road leading through the mountains?"

"There is."

He nodded slowly. "There are four of us now. Since you can fight, having a wagon with us might be a good option for traveling, as―"

"As one can defend and another can attack. I agree."

"And feeding four stomachs, two of them belonging to children―"

"I do not need such a luxury."

Shirou frowned. "There are four stomachs, two of them belonging to children. We will need supplies that are more appropriate for long-term travel."

"I do not believe you need to go so far."

"I don't know what your circumstances are with the boy, but I am effectively the sole guardian of Shirley. I intend to raise her as well as I can. That includes feeding her as appropriately as I am able. And it's not like we have a need for space; between us, we have four or so bags to carry, as well as four bed rolls. Furthermore, Shirley doesn't have the physique for extensive travel. Late in the day, she gets slower. Having a wagon will be convenient for her."

"If we are pursued, we will need to escape. A lighter wagon would be prudent."

"We can take care of small issues. The ones we need to look out for are the big ones and the swarms. Between the both of us, we should be able to avoid them."

"I don't like it." Clare stared at the map on the table. "But I understand."

"You are right to say we should overburden the horses. I'll be reasonable when it comes to the supplies. Four or five days' worth of food at most."

"Very well."

"Is your meeting with your comrade an urgent matter?"

"Yes."

"It is early enough. I can get everything now and leave before noon."

"I would appreciate it."

"Alright. I'll be off, then. If you see Shirley, please let her know I've gone out. I'll meet you all back here when I'm done."

"Very well."

Shirou left the room quickly. Clare spared a glance around the room, her eyes lingering on the bag on one of the beds. Curiosity piqued her interest; however, she refrained from intruding into the bag. She reasoned with herself on the value of patience. That Shirou seemed genuine in his promise to lend her his abilities helped.

When she turned to leave the room, Clare found Shirley standing at the entrance.

The girl looked surprised and nervous. "H-hello. What are you doing here?"

"I was planning on our next destination with Shirou."

"Shirou was here?"

"He just left to buy supplies. We decided to purchase a medium-sized wagon for traveling convenience. He felt it was appropriate to stock it."

"I-I see."

Clare's gaze fell upon the sword and knife on Shirley's belt. "That sword," Clare said. "It was very helpful. You said Shirou created it?"

"Uh. This?" Shirley rested her hand on the pommel of the sword. "Yes, he did. I mean, he said the sword was a gift from the guards, and that he, umm, 'blessed' the sword for me." She caressed the weapon gently with her hand. A slightly flush colored her cheeks. "It was personally handled by Shirou. I... I-I treasure this gift dearly."

"I can see that. You have cleaned it well. May I?"

Shirley hesitated. Slowly, she pulled the sheath from its fastener on her belt and handed the sword politely to Clare.

Though the craftsmanship was only slightly above average, the blade was more than fascinating for the warrior. As she drew the weapon, she basked in the rush of power that surged within her. It was like first experiencing the touch of the ocean breeze after walking the desert for ages. As she swung the blade slowly, Clare pondered on how she would adjust to this power if Shirou applied such a blessing to her own claymore. So captured she was in her dreams that warrior didn't notice Shirley calling her out of her reverie.

"My apologies," Clare said immediately, returning both weapon and scabbard to a slightly annoyed Shirley. "I was recalling the fight last night."

"It's okay. Shirou told me you are a good person, so I don't mind."

"I have the impression that he is an honest man."

Shirley nodded. "He is a saint in Rabona. There were yoma that attacked the city. My..." Her voice cracked a little. "My mama and papa died. Shirou saved the city with his holy powers. He... knew my family from before. We lived in a bakery, and he lived nearby. When he learned that I was... alive, he took me in. I know from living with him that he is a hard worker, that he is honest, fair, and very brave."

Clare watched the girl turn beat red. "Is there a reason why he didn't save your parents?"

After a moment of silence, Shirley answered softly, "I think that the gods work in mysterious ways. Mama and papa were meant to go. I think all of Rabona was meant to fall. And Shirou... despite the wishes of the gods, Shirou protected us anyway. And I think that if he could, he would have saved my family too." She stared at the scabbard in her hands. "Sometimes, in the night, I see Shirou look so sad when he thinks I am asleep. I don't think he has family. I think he wanted to help me, but now I don't have a family either."

"I understand."

"I think the gods saw his sadness, pitied him, and chose me to help him. I... want to help him. And I will." Shirley leveled a fierce look at Clare. "He told me you are a nice person. I trust him, so I will listen.

"B-but, if you hurt him, or think about hurting him, I'm going to hurt you back."

"Noted."

Raki swung the stick he had found in an alley as quickly as he could. He stumbled when the movement of the stick overbalanced him, and he fell on his elbow.

Wincing, he rose onto all fours. Looking up, he saw Shirou watching him.

"You okay?" the man asked.

Flushing with embarrassment, Raki dropped the stick on the ground. It clattered noisily, drawing Shirou's attention. The boy cursed in his mind. "Y-yeah. I was just, um, playing around." Raki laughed nervously. "Where are you heading?"

"Into town. I'm getting a wagon and some supplies. Do you want to come with?"

"Okay."

Abandoning his stick, Raki left the alley and followed Shirou down the street where the inn they stayed at stood, and out to a wider street that led to the village's square. Being a small village, Sandro had an equally small center; however, in his mind, Shirou found what the village had adequate for his needs. In an agrarian settlement like Sandro, wagons were aplenty as they were necessary for transporting crops during harvest seasons. There were fewer horses than he had hoped, as horses didn't provide goods like cows, sheeps, nor pigs did; and did not work as well as bulls when it came to plowing. Raki was quiet until he and Shirou obtained a pair of horses, a wagon, and harnesses to attach the wagon to the horses.

It was when the sun was nearly at its height that he broke the silence.

"Mister Shirou, are you a soldier?" Raki asked suddenly.

Shoving camping supplies into a crate on the wagon, Shirou answered distractedly. "No. I am a guard captain at Rabona."

"Can you teach me how to fight?"

"Why?"

"Clare knows how to fight. She told me you know how to fight, too. And... your daughter―"

"Shirley is not my daughter."

Raki blinked. "Oh. She's not? I thought―"

"Her parents are dead. They... a yoma attack happened in Rabona a few months ago. They didn't make it."

"Oh."

"I don't recommend you mention it to her."

"Okay. But, uh, she has a sword."

"I gave it to her."

"You're teaching her how to fight."

"Yes."

"I don't want to be the only one who can't do anything when we're out there."

Shirou chuckled a little. "I understand." Closing the lid of the crate, he jumped off the wagon and began lifting a barrel onto the vehicle. Raki assisted him quickly. "Thanks. But Shirley isn't ready for fighting yoma just yet. She doesn't have enough experience, and she still makes lots of mistakes." He set the barrel down on the wagon easily. "If we ever get attacked out there, the both of you will stay on the wagon for a most part while Clare and I deal with the threat."

"I still want to learn."

"Fine. I'll teach you what I can."

"R-really?"

"No reason not to. I'd rather not have you fight anytime soon, but... if neither Clare nor I are around when you get into trouble, it's better that you know how to look after yourself."

Raki fumbled for words. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it. It's better if Shirley has someone in her skill level to spar with. And you don't have to swing around a branch like you did earlier." At Raki's sputtering, Shirou had a good-natured laugh. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about. We all start somewhere.

"Now, help me get some food for the road."

"Okay!"

Raki ran off to where the local farmers sold their goods. While he was initially worried about obtaining food during poor seasonal harvests, Shirou found his worries were for naught. As the world seemed to exist on a constant state of mid-spring and or even early summer, the only factor affecting harvests were the rate at which crops grew. Even from afar Shirou saw that the markets were filled with vegetables and grains. Still, such a thing could only remain possible if the village were protected from yoma attacks as the safety of the farmers was paramount to continued harvests. His observation only accentuated his thoughts about securing the village.

Indeed, the only true danger in this land seemed to be the yoma.

Growing increasingly conscious of Sandro's lack of protection against these monsters, Shirou grew disquieted inside. His ability to detect the yoma stemmed from his own minor ability to 'smell' what was abnormal, a skill he learned from an old friend of his. It was not something he could improve upon quickly, if at all anymore. In other words, if a monster took another villager, it was very possible he would never know.

No, even if he did, it would be meaningless if villagers continued to disappear after his departure.

It was a realization that conflated with his awareness of his own inadequacies.

His train of thought visited a memory from his old home in Fuyuki. Back then, Kiritsugu called him a hero for saving the dreams of a dying failure. And though he considered himself a hero since then, Shirou was beginning to believe that it would no longer be enough.

After all, how could he defeat an enemy that was everywhere?

a/n: Hey folks. Getting this out now since the semester is ending and my papers are due this month. Hope you enjoy.