Author's Note: Apologies for this being late. I really did plan on a every 2-week basis, but between another story I wanted to get out, more work with people leaving the company at my job, and my girl deciding to jump a few milestones and start walking before crawling, things added up.
I do have this arc planned, I do have hope that it will be entertaining… and I do have some understanding that people are going to be angry I'm not taking the typical "everything is gray" choice with Catholicism. Sorry, but if you can paint a broad brush on one group for being evil, the same can be said for good. And back during the last breath of the Roman Empire, Catholicism was undeniably good.
Ritsuka took a deep breath of air as light fell from him. He took a deep breath of air as it did so. When his eyes adjusted, he held it there in awe.
From a city of fire, then a field of lavender, finally, this time, to a singular grand building. One of colored marble and grand arches, rising from grass and dirt and towering like a monument. Lines of gold and silver ran up walls and columns, as if frozen whilst falling from rain. They decorated the carved marble, and stretched further than he believed a street in Japan may try.
It stretched and lumbered, but at its center was the unmistakable sign of where they were.
The cross, raised and secure, carved of the same stone as the building itself. It… but not the walls that surrounded them.
There were more than walls, he knew. There were buildings that looked older than those he saw in Orleans, made more of stone than any lumber, brush, or nails. Carefully lain like the old fixtures described in the Old Testament. Archs to maintain weight, no doors to shut off the chill, but those affixed to the most prominent of the homes. They were plain in comparison to the grand hall.
But all he could focus on were the walls. Or wall. One continuous great wall he could see around them. Tall, dozens of feet so, and stretching what felt like miles in each direction. He wasn't sure, never having measured a true distance, but it was far farther than he knew most buildings could reach on their side. It was a wall he'd never seen before.
But the sounds beyond it he'd heard more times now than he wished.
Sounds of steel clashing, screams of rage, cries of torment, stomping boots, and clattering stone.
Sound… battle… war.
"We really hit the ground running this time, huh?" Ritsuka heard before he saw Solomon step in front of him, the king neither grinning proudly nor grimacing vainly. "Dropped in the middle of a fight!" Where they?
No, they were. He would be a fool to deny it. He looked around, trying to find something, anything tells him what was going on. A citizen of the city, a soldier, a messenger of some foreign land. He saw none, so he started to run.
"Running into the heat of battle, Master?" Solomon spoke easily, keeping pace even as Ritsuka beat his legs to their fullest. "It may help us see what's happening, but I don't think you're strong enough to handle too much of my power."
"I know," he labored out. He'd lost consciousness too many times in Orleans over it. "But the fighting… someone else… may need us."
"I'm sure either side will appreciate us. Issue is knowing which side." The grinning face of the Wise King was something to behold. "Best way to know which one to side? Survey from a higher view!" That was all the warning Ritsuka had before he felt the king wrap an arm under his.
Then, the rush of the ground disappearing beneath his feet and the sky dragging towards them. He didn't have the time to breath, only let out a mute gasp of surprise, as Solomon easily cleared the two dozen feet up. They landed on the wall above, breaking what was the horizon of the land and the ring of battle. Ritsuka found his feet, waving at the change.
Then he fell to his knees at the sight of war. War not across the plains of the fields of France, but before the final resting place of St. Peter.
Bodies and blood filled the fields opposite the walls, to the river near and turning green red. Spears and weapons he couldn't name were raised as many charged the walls, racing for them as if looking to climb the stone. It didn't make sense.
He saw only one group of soldiers. Saracens. The Pirates of the Islamic world that were charging towards them. He saw no armor no garb carrying the cross of God. He saw only bodies falling in one direction. They were lain against the stone wall of the Vatican City. And yet, they still charged.
He looked along the wall and was given relief to see guardsman. They had bows and flew arrows at the coming invaders, grabbing at the stalks of them and letting the arrows fly as fast as they could pull the strings. He wasn't keen enough in his gaze to see how many hit their targets or struck dirt, but with the bodies on the ground, the former was so much more likely. Yet they were still coming.
He thought it suicide, until he saw the catapults beyond them. Saw them, by the dozen, raise, twist, and launch balls of fire into the air.
"Ah, that's some bad timing," Solomon noted almost passively as the objects flew towards them. "Something tells me this isn't the first time this has happened." He raised a hand into the air, chiming with his rings. "But I can stop them if-"
"I am the bone of my sword." The chant sung in the air.
No sooner did it finish then did streaks of silver slap the flaming balls from the sky.
Ritsuka watched, in horrified fascination, as the mortars meant for the Vatican City fell onto the invaders themselves. Their cries continued on, drowned and smothered in the roar of fire, burning burning burning BURNING BURNING BURNING.
And yet, they still charged.
"Well, two things you don't see in a day," the wise king continued. "Does it answer which side we're fighting on?" He asked Ritsuka as if it were a question.
"Take the city!" One of the men cried, reaching the wall and lifting a heavy hammer. "Rip the gold from the stone!"
"The women are ours! The men are stone!" And screamed, already beating at the wall with his sword. "Leave them to drown in the river!"
"If not, that'll do it," he pointed at the pair of men. "You think they know how long it'll take for-"
TWANG! The break of a bowstring filled the air. Loud enough to overcome the roar of the pirates and the scream of flames. Ritsuka watched as the pair of men fell, arrows lodged in their skulls. He stared down at them, petrified.
Still enough to slowly realize it wasn't arrows pushed through their skulls. Arrows were metallic only at the tips. These were metal, shining silver, through and through.
They were blades.
"Oh? Do we have new guests?" A man spoke, finally forcing Ritsuka to turn.
He looked up at a tall figure wearing red, a cloak of it over the robe like Solomon. It was not the only similarity the two bore. He also had alabaster hair but cut short as a man would in the modern day. He had tanned skin, looking more like it was slowly burned. He had silver eyes, opposed to the gold of Solomon's.
He even had a shifting grin on his face, given as he peered down at Ritsuka. Solomon had one himself, beneath a confused brow.
"You weren't here before, and I can't imagine you'd scale the wall to enjoy the sights, would you?" He asked calmly as war waged below. The Master was silent, looking at the thick black blow he carried. Pulled half-string, looking as if it would snap in the wind, and notching an arrow still.
No, Ritsuka corrected himself again. Not an arrow, a sword.
"I suspect I know who you are," he replied, looking up from the Master and to the wise king. "But we'll have to wait for introductions. There are more monsters to slay." He spoke as he calmly turned his bow and loosed the bow.
TWANG!
The sound and pressure of it felt as if he was to be crushed atop the wall. He heard the blade impact somewhere on the field of battle, already too far out of sight to see if it had hit a person. The long whistle from Solomon, was easier to follow.
"Good eye," he spoke. "Mystic eye?"
"Sorry, I'm not so gifted," the other man, a Servant, Ritsuka was all but confirmed in his mind, answered. "Just another fake." He managed to look up and watch the man pinch the air. Pinch, and let blue sparks flip from between his digits. He pulled his hand back, and with it, the long tip and slowly growing center of another blade. One that was quickly notched again in his bow. "Hold a moment, they're still coming."
It was all the warning he gave before he shot again. The sound, the pressure, it was the same. This time however, Ritsuka was able to bear himself and watch it fly. Like a streak of silver, so fast it looked as if the blade grew more than flew.
Until it impacted a far of field, already tainted with bodies and blood. The impact blew several of them into the air. In parts. He breathed deep, unblinking.
"No screams?" Ritsuka looked up, thinking the man must have been deaf. Until he realized that silver eyes were quired with a smile, still looking down at him. "Most others cry out when they first see this. This isn't your first time experiencing this, is it?"
"This specifically?" Solomon asked. "Sorry to say I wasn't kicking the dirt at this time. Little guy here wasn't a sparkle in an eye yet. Hope not at least." Solomon picked him up bodily, like they were exchanging stories at dinner. Suddenly on his feet, Ritsuka could only look off the wall. Look off, over, and watch the mad men trying to break the stone all the more.
That, and something else breaking the horizon. Something that was approaching, fast.
"Not specifically, but battle in general. This isn't new to you." The new servant grinned.
"You either." The king grinned back.
Ritsuka pointed out into the field. With it, he spoke his first words.
"That's." Both Servants looked up to follow his gaze.
Up at the hanging streaks of blue that sifting through the air like smoke. Smoke that swam faster than any current of air he'd seen, fire, earth or water either. It was like a river for one moment, then coalescing into a ball of fluff the next. A ball of it, hanging what had to of been hundreds of feet in the air, but massive enough to cast a shadow over them. Ritsuka could feel the chill.
The all the more as he saw great muscular arms slowly extending from the clouds, like a page from the final book. His jaw shook.
"Damn, their Caster is acting again," the black bowed archer spoke. "From where, I can't see." That was all he said as he loosened his blade.
It streaked through the air and hit the 'cloud' above. It blew through it, as Ritsuka expected a plane would. But the Cloud did the same in return. It reformed, the empty hole filling with its own blue-tinted mass and leaving the arms to reach further out. Out, over, and almost pull something else from the cloud.
The Master of Chaldea couldn't believe it was a head. Not until he saw it.
"That's Caster?" Solomon asked.
"That's Caster's magic," the new Servant clarified. He said that as he tossed his bow into the air, letting it fall apart into sparks and vanish from sight. "Not something any blade, I can readily make can stop."
"Yes, steel has a hard time scratching clouds, I bet." The King agreed, even as the figure above loomed over them. Ritsuka felt the chill seep down his back, watching as the thing descended towards them. The cloud looked to become a mist, and one that was determined to choke them, complete with a long cruel grin from the head. "You seem awfully calm for your coming demise."
"It wouldn't be my first, yours either." Rather than turn heel, he raised a pair of fingers to his lips.
The whistle he let out was high enough Ritsuka almost couldn't hear it. It didn't make the cloud of magic above tremble either. What it did instead, however, was something he thought impossible, not without the hand of God.
Trees burst forth from the ground.
No, not trees, forest giants, the kind that he had heard some sisters theorize were common in the days of Genesis, before man inherited the earth. A set of trees that looked to become their own forest, rising from the ground and flinging the bodies of the pirates, living and dead, through the air.
Clouds were meant to cover the blue sky, but the trees took over so quickly and mightily that their canopy could be mistaken for a green hued cloud themselves. They blotted out the blue shape, removing it from view. That wasn't all it did.
Boom Boom
The dull boom came with the trembling of the giants, a feat that Ritsuka knew from walking around skyscrapers and buildings was not a small feat. The shook with a force hurricanes would struggle with, and yet these timber giants waved under the pressure. Ritsuka watched on the backfoot, knowing a sheer drop was just behind him, and it felt preferred to the force beyond the woods.
"Don't worry," the archer responded, letting silver eyes glance at the Master. "It's like I said. This isn't my first time." His eyes returned to the forest giants. Ritsuka with his eyes, Solomon the same. Only the Archer raised his bow, notched with swords.
Moments passed under the boom and wave of the giants, before they did something different. Something as unbelievable as almost all other acts Ritsuka had witnessed in these wars. The trees began to wither. Not rot, fall, or break, but wither. As if liquid was being drained from them by a pump, like he'd seen plastic bags emptied in stores.
Emptied out until the sky beyond was visible, and the blue clouds with protruding arms was gone as well. It was a minor relief, with the bodies beneath still present.
"I always did like the term break upon me," Solomon noted. "Though I can't tell if it was ever quite as serious as clouds breaking against trees. You'd think the Caster would just make more clouds."
"Have you ever heard of quality over quantity?" The archer posed next.
"Quantity is its own quality." The answer made the red-dressed, but silver eyed man laugh. A chuckle, deep, and mirthless.
"Such a wise answer." He raised his bow. Ritsuka followed.
Then fell back, this time almost from the wall, as guns lined the sky.
He knew guns, familiar enough even with the forbiddance within the Japanese borders. They were not from any script of text of the bible or the church's scholars. Olga had given him no instruction on their mechanics or craft. Yet despite that, he knew them. Yakuza loved to brag about their possession of them, after all.
He was sure that if they had as many as he saw the dots the skies, Tokyo would be a warzone.
"Overcast skies," Solomon noted. "Let's find cover." He raised his ringed hand, letting the metal beat as his fingers waved. Ritsuka felt the pull of his prana from him, commanded by the wise king.
A shield formed around them, as it did in Orleans. Translucent, shimmering, but more solid than any walls the Master could think to stand behind. This time, however, he maintained his breath and vision. Short, exertive, but far from wiping of his spirit.
"I am the bone of my sword," the archer spoke again, the same chant.
More mystic circles appeared in the air, a name that Ritsuka was sure Olga would hate him for using. But he cared little as he watched the multitude of shimmering portals around the archer multiply. From a few to a dozen, to hundreds, over and over.
"Steel is my body; fire is my blood." The chant continued and ended.
TWANG!
BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BA-BA-BA-BA-BANG!
It was the rattle of an engine from above them, or the closest thing Ritsuka could think of it like. Incongruent booms that filled the air, all with the archer next to them loosening a single blade from his bow. Only one from his bow.
FWOOOOOOOO-ANG!
But hundreds from his art.
The withered trees blotted out the clouds from before and made a curtain of timber and shadow.
The blades of the archer met the projections of the floating guns and made a show of light the skyline of a major city would blush at.
Ritsuka had to shield his gaze as the cacophony and brilliance overtook his senses, like standing under an overpass, with the lights of a hundred spotlights shinning upon him. The wall rumbled beneath him, shaking under the force of the colliding aerial battle. This, all while still guarded by the shield of Solomon and his firm hand on his shoulder.
Through the mess, he blinked up to look at the sky, watching as the floating armaments dissipated like smoke. One by one. He managed to catch his breath as they slowly disappeared, only for him to remember the war wasn't just above but began below. Forcing himself up, he moved forward, the shield of Solomon and its caster following him, always a hand to him. He looked over the edge of the wall, past the ramparts, and saw the men below.
Bodies were scattered, hundreds of them. Very few appeared to have been felled quickly. He saw tossed arms and legs, heads rolled off their shoulders. Even those were the lucky ones. Those with limbs removed by clean cuts or thrown swords. Shot swords.
The rest appeared crushed, under weights and blows that Ritsuka only experienced from hundreds of yards away and through a shield. It was something akin to the remains of a traffic accident, and a brutal one at that. The few he'd seen and felt sick after experiencing.
He could only take a long dry breath now. Compared to the burning burning burning burning burning burning burning of Fuyuki… it was only comparable.
"Uncommon sight?" The Archer spoke again, bow at his side. "I thought this wasn't your first war."
"First one so close for him," Solomon answered honestly and quickly. "Though it is the first time having to deal with Casters creating masses in clouds and guns. Guns aren't common for mages."
"That's because it wasn't caster who made those. That was the enemy Archer." Ritsuka wasn't sure what that meant. "I have suspicions of who they are, but they haven't shown themselves. Their Archer or their Caster."
"Neither, then why have you not taken the fight to them." Solomon waved his hand, clinking his rings together, and letting the shield fall. He didn't take his hand from Ritsuka. "You are far from lacking in power yourself, between blades and trees."
"The trees were not mine," he responded simply. "That would be our Lancer, whom I'm sure you'd enjoy meeting."
"Only adds all the more reason you should jump the wall and find the enemy Servants. No man can stand in the way of a Servant." The Archer grinned, all the brighter, and darker, at Solomon's words.
"You're correct. No man is comparable to a Grail-blessed Servant." He presented his hand forward towards the gore of the battle below, as if looking to offer charity. No other facet of him promised alms. "But these are no longer men." Ritsuka blinked.
"They… aren't?" Did he mean because they were dead? He couldn't, could he? That would have been a cruel thing to suggest, even for pirates. "But they-" He started and stopped. His eyes, wide and shaking, were focused on the bodies.
On the rising bodies.
The Master watched, open mouthed, as the men began to lift from the ground one by one, grabbing severed limbs and pulling them against their stubbed limbs. Crushed to gore chests, heads, and legs, churning like jelly, holding themselves up by something other than natural means. No cries came from them as they rose.
Neither as they dragged themselves from thew all, stumbling, hobbling, or even crawling away. No howls or cries like before, only the drifting away across land. Like foam in the sea, pulled away until vanishing. Ritsuka watched them, the walking dead. No, they weren't dead, they walked.
"Perhaps this is your first time witnessing them." The man spoke again, closer, silver eyes judging him almost admonishingly. "Those things that were once men, made something else."
"What… are they?" He couldn't help but ask. "I've seen the dead before but… but not like this." The dead were long since dead, those of the Horned Rider from Orleans. Or they were nothing but charred skeletons, no longer moving. These men were crying for blood, cut and crushed, then rose again and departed, as if the gates of hell lay beyond the river.
So close to St. Peter's tomb, Ritsuka could only pray to God that was not the truth.
"They are the unfortunate curse laid upon us by something else." He waved his black bow, the instrument vanishing like the blades before. "A Servant? A Master? A True Ancestor? Maybe even another force that was crafted to fight with will of the Counter Force. There are many possibilities and means to craft a Dead Apostle, after all." Apostle.
"Those were not apostles," Ritsuka was quick to say. "Nothing was holy about them." The words, stern and heavy, only made the silver-eyed man raise a brow. His grin never changed, confident and filled with chagrin.
"You are correct. They are not holy in any way. But apostles can belong to more than a church and serve things other than a God. Now…" the man turned, running a hand through his silver hair. Matching eyes looked down at him, observing him from head to toe. "Introductions?"
The walk from the wall was slow, even for after what Ritsuka had witnessed. From atop the wall, he could the limit of the Vatican, or what it one day would be known worldly. On the ground, the rolls of hills, small homes, and vegetation began to hide it. It offered the illusion of an expansive city. One day it would be more than a dream.
On this day, in the far flung and quickly twisted past, it was the stronghold of those cowering by the small cathedral of a saint while Servants fought back invaders. Invaders aided by far more than merely small arms or good fortune. Ritsuka walked along dirt and trodden soil, realizing quickly that he had no concrete way to know exactly what the Vatican would like before the laborious task of construction the Basilica, cathedrals, and monasteries.
He only knew it wouldn't look like this.
Hastily built homes of more mortar than stone, a good push away from falling. People looking fearfully from behind archs lacking doors, and with skin looking pale and depleted. The vibrant beauty of the land ridden by the constant marching of boots and war, like a blanket of damp blood was washed from it. It brought misery to him, knowing that it was the burial site the first pope.
That was all that gave him hope now. Seeing the single cross raised, perhaps in haste as well, announcing that they were in a site dedicated to the Lord. Holy as well, as no burial site of a saint could be anything else. But to lack the beauty of it twisted at his soul.
It did not seem to register with either of the red cloaked Servants.
"Chaldea?" The archer spoke twisting his hand in the air. "I am familiar with the city, but from your attire, Master, I can assume it is not the one I'm thinking of. Perhaps yours, however."
"Not mine either," Solomon replied. "Though I'd be lying to say I'm not related."
"That speaks little of who you are."
"As I said, Chaldea," the king replied all smiles. "One from the future, looking to correct the Order of Humanity. And, from you have heard of the Grail, I am sure you are aware this is not the corrector order of humanity." A tanned hand waved at the trodden earth, rings clicking together.
The archer smiled.
"No, not here at least. Though it is better than many other places I've been too. Perhaps I've thought that people here are just lucky, having walls around them." Ritsuka had to glare at the man.
"Lucky?" Silvery homed in on the trembling word. "You think they're lucky?"
"They're alive. Doesn't that mean they are blessed?" He mocked. "I was told so by the Pope, or the man who wears the crown in these times." Ritsuka ran the idea of it through his head.
"Leo the IV? He built the walls."
"He has certainly made them a priority, wisely at that. I'd say without them the people here would have been overrun long ago." The archer looked away from him, noting the many homes around him. "There is an undeniable incentive in threatening one's life. The Pirates certainly brough the threat forward the first time."
"So, this is the second round then?" A confused gaze met Solomon's inquiry. "The future, remember?"
"Yes, the future. And what does the future say will happen here?"
"That you are all doomed to burn." Solomon spoke the words with a bright smile. The Archer raised a brow at the words.
Ritsuka kicked his legs. It just made the Servant waver. Mostly, he laughed.
"I suspect by the actions of your Master that is not the case, especially not if you are trying to preserve Humanity's Order."
"No no, you caught me." The King waved his hand, before turning it into an accusing finger. "And by the look of surprise on your expression, you are as well." The Archer didn't blink.
"Of course, the Order of Humanity is long, I would dare to think most come from-"
"No no, I mean the future. A future even to us." Ritsuka stared at the comment. "Too assuming of our answers, evasive and jokingly clueless when we admit who we are. Even then, knowing the attire of my dear Master is from a present day. Heroes, I'm sorry to say, don't tend to appear in the time we are from."
The Archer stopped. His grin had finally fallen. Solomon did as well, folding his hands behind his back, showing the little height he had on the fellow Servant. Ritsuka, hearing lessons from Olga and witnessing Servants class before, took a step back and behind the King.
"Wise, clever, and perceptive," the Archer finally spoke. "More so than just your average warrior, far above even that of great thinkers." He turned, his hands hidden from view. "I'd say wise enough to make it a part of your legend, like the blade of a king. Perhaps so much, you are referred to as a wise king."
"The best rulers usually are." The quick comment earned another confident grin from the archer.
"I've met wise kings who make many foolish mistakes. Often because of their great pride." He looked between the pair of them. "You are gifted in magic, and pride should come from that. But I don't see the arrogance that usually drips from it. IT's almost as if the magic you have was gifted to you, and you knew it. Gifted like your wisdom."
Solomon was silent, Ristuka the same. The Archer held up his hands, as if to avoid insult, though the grin he bore spoke little of his care.
"There's no reason to be worried. We are in an rather unorthodox position. Knowing your true identity in times such as these is more of a boon than a threat." His silver eyes hardened. "You wouldn't disagree, would you Solomon?"
The name didn't surprise or shock Ritsuka, he knew it well. Speaking the king's name also did little to make him shake, as he only needed to be asked to learn of it. Nothing about the man's actions should have given the Master pause or fear.
Nothing but the supreme confidence he held as he spoke, ease of deducing the Servant's identity with words alone, and then passing it off as unimportant. He sounded too much like the scoundrels who prayed on the innocent and charitable. Too alike to too many people he'd seen before.
"You appear to have a score of wisdom yourself," Solomon eventually added. "Plenty a lot for an Archer."
"As I said. I am an Archer, and I must be observant to-"
"And I am justly aware the grail grants knowledge of what occurs in the world at the time of summoning," Solomon interrupted. "It doesn't grant knowledge of the future beyond the war, means to defeat opponents, nor of languages not native to the land it is hosted in. Yet you named before many means to craft a Dead Apostle."
"Is that not a part of this war?"
"It is a means to win a war, knowing the origin of your enemy." Solomon stepped forward. "And for you to know methods beyond the acts of a True Ancestor, knowing they can be crafted my magic or curses, speaks of two things experience or given knowledge."
"You caught me," the Archer held up his hands, face never shifting from aloof confidence. Ritsuka kept himself scarce behind the King. He only understood every third Proper Noun in this discussion. He didn't like where any of it was going. "I am famed in my life for hunting them, closer to the modern day."
"If that were the case, you would have been able to kill them." Solomon quickly silence." The Master of Chaldea risked a glance, seeing the humor of the king was gone. Hard gold stared into veiled silver. "You did not kill more than a lucky soldier with a good weapon."
"Luck has never been my strong suit. I am here, after all."
"But weapons are," he motioned to the air with his ringed hand. "Just as knowledge is the strong suit of the other device you named?"
"Oh? Did I name another device?" The ambivalence was concerning more than insulting. "Pray tell, King of the Israelites, what was this?" Ritsuka knew it.
"The Counter Force." Both eyes looked to him. "You named the Counter Force." Olga had told him about it.
"Is that not something the Grail would grant me knowledge of?" Ritsuka didn't know if it would or wouldn't. King Solomon did.
"You would be granted knowledge of the Counter Force, you'd know of its existence, but knowledge of that does not grant you knowledge of its enemies, or forces that work to over night the Order of Humanity." Solomon pointed a ring hand at the Archer. "You know not only of the Dead Apostles, but the means to craft them. You hail from a time close to ours, long after the Age of Heroes."
Silver eyes were leveled carefully at the Wise King.
"You are not a Servant of the Grail," Solomon declared. "You are contracted to the Counter Force, Counter Guardian." Ritsuka didn't understand the significance nor the meaning. He blinked in confusion.
When he opened his eyes, a blade of silver was against Solomon's neck.
The same king had a hand grasped against the Archer's throat, rings clenched together.
"You are wise as all legends predict," the Archer replied, even with a Servant's hand against his neck. "But it seems not wise enough to be quiet." Ritsuka still didn't understand what was happening.
"I will not be silent when my Master's life may be threatened. And you, Slave to that Force, are a threat to him with your every breath." Ritsuka looked between them, breath dipping until it was a faint flutter of wind.
The air was still and thick, the eyes, arms, and blades of the Servants heavy and strong, and he just a man watching legends fight, over something he did not know.
"ENOUGH!" The scream was like an explosion.
Ritsuka jumped back, the same as Archer and Solomon. He was dragged by the king, hand gripping his shirt and pulling him over the trodden ground. Archer had leapt onto a nearby house, sending the people inside into a huddled fright, even as he tore out the black bow of before. He loomed like the reaper from higher up, and Solomon held out his hand to catch any blades that flew. The Master, however, looked for who yelled. It was not hard to find him.
He was, after all, a giant. Larger than any man he'd seen so far.
"Do not threaten those who came to help us Archer, no matter what truths they speak of you!" The man threw out his arm to the Servant above him, showing the muscular nature of the limb. Thicker than both of Ritsuka's legs fit together. At the turned angle, the length of his beard was impossible to ignore. Especially as he rounded to them. "And you pair. I do not know how you entered this city, but I trust if Archer did not strike at you without conversation, you did not leap over the wall."
He marched towards them, fists clenched and arms pumping. Ritsuka could watch as loose pebbles on the ground shook with his steps. When he stopped before them, his figured almost eclipsed the sun. Olga may have taught him, and Orleans showed him, that size of a foe did not matter in a battle of Servants, but it was a force of intimidation for sure.
"But I know little of you, and I am not in such a position to show leniency to potential threats." Ritsuka blinked.
"We're not." He quickly spoke. "We wouldn't be. You're defending St. Peter's tomb and I'd never wish for that to be defiled, let alone robbed." The man's eyes leered down at him. But only for a moment. They softened so soon after.
"You know the name of the St. behind us," he spoke more then bellowed. "How do you know?"
This was a meeting, as Olga had taught him. Introduction to a Servant was key, paramount to establish trust. In these ties where the Order of Humanity was threatened, he had to show strength to earn that trust. Ritsuka stood to his tallest, but still felt like a child behind the King of Israel and the giant.
"We come from Chaldea, a facility in the future dedicated to preservation of the Order of Humanity." Just as the Director had told him to speak. The man's expression did not change. Ritsuka reached around his neck, producing the crucifix. "And I am a Servant of the Lord."
Now he blinked.
A quiet calm settled between them, the man not so much relaxing, but the tension of his muscles loosening. Ritsuka kept his posture as best he could, looking up at the man. It was easier when the man knelt. Ritsuka, though not nearly as tall as many of the Servants he'd seen thus far. Not even the men of the other nations, was still only chest high to the kneeling giant.
"So my prayers were answered. A Servant of the Lord has come." The calm in his voice was matched by a grin. One visible even through the thick of his beard. "My apologies for not being there when you first came, or bearing witness to our plight before seeing our state."
"It's… It's okay," he caught himself, keeping his posture. "It's not the worst way I've entered a time like this." Here he came with a Servant surrounded by walls and fortified. There were no collapsed skyscrapers looming over him with demons laughing and fire burning burning burning burning burning.
"That a sorrier state exists is not reason to accept the poor state I've given you." The man's hand came out. Ritsuka realized it could have crushed his head like the apples Olga enjoyed. "I was the first Servant summoned here, brought by the man who leads his flock in the name of the Lord. I do not know if I am familiar to you, but I also worship the word of the Lord."
The hints racked his mind. He could think of no saints following the time of Christ described as so massive as this. No one that was thought to be part giant and none that had beard as thick and full as this man. He was not dressed as a king, though clearly not a knight or bum either. He was clean, strong, and spoke evenly. Like a judge.
A judge… he found it.
"The strongest of the judges," He blinked up at the man. "Samson."
The broad smile broke to show teeth.
"I am," he affirmed. "And you are one deep in the knowledge of the Lord." His eyes looked up, just barely below eye level with the King. "I was too far away to hear your name, though I hope you did not speak harshly to the Archer for fun."
"Concern, actually," he spoke with all smiles. "And now I'm not concerned, having a fellow like you around." Solomon then did as he enjoyed.
Putting hands to the man's shoulder, grinning at him as an old friend.
"Judge of the Israelites, I greet you as Solomon, Son of David, King of Israel."
Samson rose to his tallest, fast enough that Ritsuka nearly fell over. Solomon let go, holding his hands up in mock surrender, smile still present, as the Judge loomed over him.
"King Solomon," Samson repeated. "The contractor of demons and adulterer of women."
"Both true," he replied easily. "Just as you are the one who would touch a dead body." The giant shook but once.
"There was honey within the carcass. I wished to eat it."
"What irony, so did I~." He sang like Da Vinci praising her own genius. Ritsuka could not help but groan. "But I am also the one blessed by the Wisdom of God. Twice in fact."
"Twice?"
"Twice," Solomon replied with a raise of his ring hand, showing his middle and index digit. "Though I admit I was only half as lucky the second time." He raised his other hand, showing the lack of rings upon it. "Consequence or reward, it is as the Lord decided." The Judge watched him carefully, eyes drawn and breath deep.
"There is a great deal more happening here, more than just your entry into this raid." His eyes looked from the red-garbed king to the Master beside him. "And this is a raid, no war."
"A war by the decree of the precious Holy Grail," the Archer spoke up again. Ritsuka found himself behind the pair of Servants, only to spy the same short-haired man lounging atop the house. "Only wars are fought over the grail."
"Wars are fought for conquest, glory, revenge," Samson returned. "This is a slaughter of those seeking to praise the Lord, whose only time with a blade was to kill cattle for food or sacrifice." Ritsuka saw one of those people, and he believed it.
They were terrified, huddled away. He could not help but think of Joan from Orleans, the first man he met upon arriving in a different time, and who had fears for the land but offered comfort. These people, so close to the tomb of the first pope, appeared sustained only by silence and swaying patience.
"Only because those who could have fought before have fallen. Usually that would be the end of the war." His grin was lopsided and proud. "It would be easy to say our presence here, growing in number, is only prolonging the inevitable."
"Nothing is inevitable but the Word of God." The Judge's words were harsh.
As was the laughter of the Archer.
"Then let him speak, and let me hear."
He stood with those blasphemous words. "Until then, I'll keep the walls safe, so long as I see fit." His silver eyes flashed upon the king's gold. Then with another leap, he was gone. His departure came with a long sigh from the judge.
"I apologize for him. He's one of few others who have been brought forth to defend this holy place, and coming with each of them is a test of patience I did not endure before."
"It makes sense there are others. We did see a rather impressive display of magic with the trees growing. However, Archer said that was Lancer's doing. A forced Class by chance?"
"You'll understand when you meet him. Him and the others." The judge waved his head, turning a hidden smile to Ritsuka once again. "But before that, I believe it best to speak with the one who prayed for our coming first. The one who gave orders to build the wall with all haste."
"The Pope, you mean the Pope, right?" The smile couldn't be contained as it grew on his features. A hatchelled laughter came from the Judge.
"Yes, Leo the Fourth. A strong man in times such as these, with Pirates aiming to steal and ransack a site already threatened by the Empire around it. Were he alive in my time, he'd be an excellent judge himself. To see the safety of those around him."
"He built the walls in order to defend against the pirates, but only after they attacked the first time, the late ninth century," Ritsuka recalled again, before looking over the great armaments. "The walls were held until the sixteenth, where they were reinforced again because of the failing Roman state. But right now… they already look huge."
"A consequence of the current raids, or what is obviously an intervention of some darker force." The judge rolled his shoulders. It felt appropriate to compare him to the Berserker of Fuyuki, but Ritsuka had no fear or tremor in doing so.
The Berserker attacked with a great bow and swore damnation. This judge, though tall, hailed the Lord.
"Off to a better start than last time at least, aren't we?" The grin of the king was present again. "No roving wyverns in the sky or far flung Servants attacking villages. Just held up behind walls with a set of Servants to help us."
"There are Servants beyond these walls as well, king," Samson replied. "And You must have seen the dead rise."
"I said we are better off, not well off. There is a difference." He waved his finger, grinning. It only had the giant look down at Ritsuka. He knew the silent question well. He could only shake his head, earning a sigh from the judge. "That said, we really should meet the Pope. No use trying to help if we don't know who to. And those other Servants you mentioned. How many are there?"
"Counting the Archer you met, four others. Lancer, Saber, and another Berserker." Another? The Judge almost heard the unspoken question, raising and flexing his arm. "I may not be mad, but my strength is tied to force alone. I wielded no weapons in life."
"A calf's jaw doesn't count?" Solomon had to ask. "I must admit it's not good to admit to use things God says no to, but that is a pretty famous way to slay over a hundred men."
"Would you say you're any better, contracting with demons in the vain hope to control them?"
"It did work, and God's wisdom did let me do so," Solomon, somehow unwisely, continued. "Then again, when did I say I was better. I'm perfectly happy to be on the same level as a Judge of Israel."
"Umu, what do we have here, another Servant descending to save my land?" The sing-song voice came from beyond a ruined house. "And a fellow king to boot?" Ritsuka watched it, seeing a woman prance out from behind it.
He immediately averted his gaze, a blush furious against his features.
"Huh? And here I was under the impression women were more conservative in this time," Solomon almost joyfully uttered next to him. "What does this count as, pleasant surprise or damnable temptation? If I have to be true to myself, the former, right?" Ritsuka refused to look up and glare at him.
"The latter, King," Samson answered. "And I am sure our Master will have no love for her."
"How rude of you to say, Israeli judge!" The woman scorned, even as she struck a pose with wide legs and thrust chest. It only showed off the utter lack of garments covering her front. Beach goers in Tokyo had more coverage than her. "All those who gaze upon me are struck with love. I was so loved I was emperor of these lands!"
She spun on her heel, arms outstretched, as if trying to grasp all the earth. She couldn't extend past the walls. Ritsuka couldn't look anywhere but the ground or sky.
"You are chaste as the Lord desires," Samson spoke to him. "But I am sorry to say that she is more similar to the Archer you met before than myself. She is also the Saber summoned to defend these walls."
"Of course I was," the woman spoke, and Ritsuka could hear her marching forward. "These are my walls, after all. I was emperor of these lands before. And then there were great monuments to me, upon this very soil! Umu, it is a sign of my greatness that I am here again to rid it of the invaders who wish to sully my name."
"Your name is already scorned through history," Samson spoke simply back, though it did little to the woman, making a scoffing sound and tossing her hair.
"Only by those who fail to know me. Why I bet that if these pair of new arrivals were to recognize my name, they'd throw themselves at me for joy!" Ritsuka couldn't even entertain the thought, let alone the idea. Who was she?
"Oh, he'll throw himself at you alright." He just managed to look up from the dirt and stare at Solomon, the man's expression between humored and pained. "With all the energy a man can. Probably harder than I tossed myself into the concubines."
"Then you know me? Of course you do! If you are a king you must recognize one as great as I?" Ritsuka cemented his gaze on Solomon, watching as golden eyes stared at him. Oh they were pained. Even mouthing 'I'm sorry' to him.
Who was this woman?
"But if this boy is a peasant, or worse, one of these Christians, then perhaps he should hear of me from me." Mockery given, Ritsuka just managed to face her. Kept his head high, staring only into the green pride-filled gaze of the woman, framed by golden locks and grinning with satisfaction that could be born of nothing but delusion.
For a single brief moment, she thought she was Mordred of Fuyuki, barren of the corruption of the Grail. A single fleeting moment, passed only by the difference in pride they held.
"I am the Emperor who oversaw the establishment of this very site. For in my wisdom, I saw to the death and burial of the Peter!"
In the moment that followed, Ritsuka's eyes widened in horror. The woman's smile did so with pride.
"I am Nero Claudius!"
Author's Note: I confess, I am struggling to make sure everyone stays in character while learning how to move the plot forward. I realize a shortcoming of my writing is over emphasizing character traits in conversation. I need to learn to integrate characterization and story beats better. Only Solomon, Olga, and Jesus are easy to do this with, because we KNOW them.
For new characters like Samson, Archer (you know who he is), and Nero, who will have to be challenged, I have to make sure I don't fall into the trap of non-stop convenience. Well, wish me luck!