A/N: Yo! I am in fact, not dead! Life has just been blasting me with responsibilities. Here is an interlude, serving as setup for the meat and potatoes of the next chapter… as soon as I get around writing it.

Now, reviews:

Wally991: Worry not, for my death is but a lie!

CalmingDownReading: To be honest, I will refrain from giving him titles for now. As you can see, and READ. These title does not really fit him.

Ash the Aura Guardian: Good to have you. As an amateur author, I am thankful that you found this story worth your time.

VeganoCanibal: Thank you, I hope you also enjoy this chapter.

Guest: Don't worry… I've got that in my notes. Just need a right time to squeeze that in.

Bucio: Ah yes, it was pain. But you and your fellow reviewers keep me from quitting on this fic. For that, I am thankful.

LambMan2424: Meh, I'd say properly rated. But I do appreciate the praise.

Now, let us start. Enjoy.


Illyasviel

It was now nighttime on the capital. The staff of the royal palace has gone to their quarters to rest early for a busy tomorrow, while the guards stay vigilant of any threat that may come for the royal siblings.

Two however, were still restless. It is Shirou and Illya, staying awake at the princess' workshop for the night. Had this just been any other regular day, the punishment given to Illya would remain valid. But this day could not be any more bizarre.

Avalon, something Shirou expected to just do its minimal functions for the rest of this life. Has fully activated again. This had only happened once after Saber's departure. It was that time where he goes to King Arthur's grave and talked to the ever-tactless Sir Kay and utilizing it to extend Illya's life beyond its anticipated limits.

Avalon's existence after the war has always puzzled Shirou. He was so sure that he returned it to Saber and it disappearing along with her. But, a week after the ordeal, he found out that Avalon is still inside him somehow. Still functioning up to the bare minimum of its capabilities.

"Hmmm, at least your magic circuits had recovered last time I checked. However, it does not seem to be the reason of the sheath's activation. It works through proximity. Whatever activated it might just be close by." She spoke as her hands were touching Shirou's bare toned back. He sat at the floor as Illya continued to check his body. "I'm not very knowledgeable with divine constructs like these… Taking it out of your body might disturb it. But I can't say for certain."

Shirou nods, thinking the same thing as Illya. "Yeah. Someone out there is supplying it with mana. But as I checked it's not really as powerful as expected of an EX Rank noble phantasm yet. The supplier might be farther away than anticipated." Due to it being stuck with him for his entire life, he at least knew the major functions of Avalon, not all of it, but he knows enough.

With a resigned sigh, Illya rose to her feet, retrieving Shirou's coat from a nearby chair and tossing it to him. "It's late now, we got a busy day tomorrow. Just don't use it while we still have no idea what happened." This conundrum was starting to get through her, she decided that it's better to rest and prepare for tomorrow's ball.

Shirou stood up and dusted the dirt and chalk from his pants. "Don't worry, I don't plan to." he reassured her as he slipped into his coat. "Anyway, you sure you would sleep here and not on your room?"

Illya hesitated for a moment, her gaze drifting towards the workshop's cluttered workbenches and shelves filled with mystic codes and alchemical ingredients. "Yeah, I'm too tired to walk all the way there." she admitted softly, a hint of embarrassment coloring her voice.

"Alright," Shirou said, offering her a reassuring nod. "Just make sure you get some rest. We both know how exhausting tomorrow's ball will be." With the high society preparing for the grand event, the king braced himself for the workload that would follow.

Illya smiled, a hint of mischief in her eyes. "Only if you promise not to trip over your own feet during the dance." She spoke in a teasing tone.

With a slight chuckle, Shirou rebutted. "Tripping is the last thing that I need to worry about." His feet grew closer to the workshop's door. As he opened the door, his eyes turned back to Illya, who was still watching him walk away. "Are you really sure about this? I could carry you there If you like." He asked once again.

Illya, with a reassuring smile, answered. "Yeah, I'm alright. Good night Onii-chan."

Shirou paused for a moment before nodding. "You too Illya, sweet dreams." With those parting words, Shirou exited the workshop, leaving Illya alone with her thoughts.


Illya was now alone inside her workshop. Her eyes were on the ceiling as she laid down in her bed while thinking of her next moves. Episode 1's epilogue is coming to a close, and episode 2 is starting tomorrow at six of the evening.

Everything is proceeding as she planned. To make Meriel think that she has already won despite the lack of Lizbeth. Illya even made sure that the adoption papers of the Mayfield branch family goes as smoothly as possible. If everything clicks together. Maybe she could uncover what's really happening in the story.

Just one problem however. Avalon's reactivation. Either someone like Saber or King Arthur got summoned and started to supply mana to Avalon without a contract. Or somehow an alive iteration of the King of Knights is here at the vicinity. Either way, both are pretty much impossible.

All of this are being kept secret to Shirou of course. Not that she held animosity for her brother and thus keeps her plans secret from him. Hell, she'll even marry him if given the chance. No, it's just that… she does not trust him to do the rational thing.

The princess just knows that Shirou would jump at the chance for even suggesting that Saber is here or anywhere near.

She needs time, time to think this over. Being the blood daughter of the Magus Killer means that she has contingency plans in case the main one fails. And another one if the second one also fails. Said plans are equally morally questionable.

But enough of that.

Sleep eluded her mind. She was left thinking of all the possibilities of tomorrow's ball. Lizbeth's disappearance and Meriel's status as a fellow reincarnator seemed linked, possibly even connected to the cult that they had uncovered in Shelston.

Beyond the confident façade. She was worried. Not scared of course. But worried nonetheless. Meriel herself could be disposed so easily. But her backers might act up if she suddenly disappears. And what she said at Illya's office that day. That sheer idiotic confidence could get the maid nowhere, but her potent mental manipulation could cause problems in the future, but could be manageable if given enough preparation. Illya fears of she unlocks her sympathize ability from the game. It could be catastrophic.

Though, that could wait for later. She needs at least a wink of sleep. Getting caught with bags in her eyes could equally be as catastrophic.


Shirou (Morning)


"Your Majesty." An older man said to Shirou as he stood in front of a table, holding a screw driver. The man talking to him was his aide, Bartholomew, who was finished training the next aide for their position. "What, in your father's name, do you think you're doing?" He tiredly asked.

Shirou turned the screwdriver with his hand as he firmly grasped the contraption that he was holding. "Fixing Ferran's music box. I happened to pass by when he was preparing his cart to buy materials at the market. This came up and I offered to help." The king explained concisely, eliciting an annoyed reaction from Bart.

"Should you not be preparing for the ball? Foreign delegates are expected to come this time around. What do you think would be their reaction if they found out that the king is dedicating his time for some stable boy's music box instead of state affairs?" He reprimanded his king. Truth to be told, Bart had long accepted his king's weird habit of unnecessarily helping the palace servants. After all, the young king was known to clean his own office, often appearing early in the morning in an apron with a broom in hand.

But this time was different. It was the day of an important event. He was expected to act his own status as the most powerful man in the kingdom.

"Worry not, Bart." The King assured. "As soon as I am done with this I will return to my duties. Gods help me if I let Elise see me like this." He said to his Aide, slightly alleviating the stress that was building up inside the man.

Bartholomew decided to steer the conversation away from the king's eccentricities, he knew very well how stubborn Isaiah is. "Speaking of Her Highness. She seems to have kicked out that maid that was assigned to the kitchens." He spoke in a more relaxed tone than before.

"Hm?" The king's gaze turned to the older man. "You mean Mayfield?" Shirou asked, despite already knowing what Bart means as to extend the conversation.

Bart nods. "Aye. She seems to do her duties well enough, and is even liked by her peers. What slight did she commit to be kicked out of the palace so suddenly?" Bart questioned, but not because of pity, but of curiosity.

This made Shirou raise a brow. "Sudden? She was relieved of her duties at the plea of her relatives. The Mayfields have long dreamt of reviving their barony. As part of the main family, she was recognized as the true heiress." The king's attention returned back to the music box. "Anyway, she was not kicked out per se."

"Hm." Bartholomew hummed at the information. Yes, he seems to have heard that Meriel was from a fallen noble family, evident by her last name. But, he had not known that she had relatives from far away.

Suddenly, a chime rang out from the device in Shirou's hand, signaling that the music box was now functioning properly. Shirou set down the screwdriver and turned his full attention to Bartholomew, who let out a sigh of relief.

"Shall we?" Shirou spoke in a more elegant tone than before. He opened the door to the exit, and beckoned his aide to follow suit.

"As you wish, My King." Bart bowed down as a sigh of respect. This day is bound to be more tiring than most.


Illyasviel

Illya directed her servants with a firm yet graceful command, "The curtains should go there. Try to keep the initial style intact; I believe it complements the current flower arrangements quite well." As the preparations for the ball unfolded around her, she took it upon herself to oversee every detail.

She didn't fully trust the designers to understand her unique taste and preferences, knowing that her personal touch was essential to achieving the elegance and sophistication she envisioned for the event.

A servant boy approached the princess as she observed the arrangements. "Your Highness, I was told to bring this sculpture of a dove here. Where should I put it?" He asked, pulling Illya's attention away from the curtains.

Illya cupped her chin. She seems to recall ordering those from a sculptor that Taiga recommended to her. Closely looking at it, she recognized that it was up to her standards. "Hm." She hummed. "Ah, yes, place it downstairs near the grand door. I do recall ordering a pair. Would you be so kind as to retrieve the second one after you've placed this?"

The servant boy nodded. "Aye. I shall see it done." He bowed down as he walked away to fulfill the orders given to him.

As the servant boy walked away, she noticed that there were to figures coming to her direction. The first man was dressed in an elaborate military jacket adorned with intricate gold embroidery, the vibrant hue of his attire perfectly complementing the striking color of his hair. Beside him walked a man with brown hair, distinguished-looking, his glasses adding an air of intellect to his appearance. It was none other than the King, her brother, accompanied by his trusted aide Bartholomew.

The princess curtsied with a smile as they approached. Her eyes were focused to her brother. "Greetings. Your Majesty." And then she turned her gaze to the second man, the aide. "To you as well. Lord Hansen" She said politely.

Bartholomew bowed in return.

While the king just approached Illya and started speaking. "You seem to be busy." He commented, not knowing how to start the conversation.

Illya couldn't help but chuckle at his awkward attempt. "And are you not, dear brother?" She quipped, her tone laced with affectionate jest.

Shirou just responded with a hollow chuckle. "Quite occupied actually." His hand hovered onto Illya's head as he touches his sister's hair affectionately. "How could I not be when my sister always works her hardest?"

Illya responded with a beaming smile at the gesture, almost blinding the surrounding servants. "We are just about finished with decorating." Her smile turned into a smirk. "I assume that the chef is here?" She asked sarcastically.

Shirou just shook his head, already knowing the flow of this conversation. "You are speaking as if is he ever left."

The princess uncharacteristically snorted at the rebuttal. Well, there is no such thing as Shirou Emiya if he does not cook.

Meanwhile, Bartholomew stood silently beside them, his tired eyes growing even wearier. He couldn't help but dread whatever headache inducing stunt his king had concocted this time around.


Meriel (A Few Days before the Ball)


"M-miss Mayfield." Lars spoke in tone akin that of a dehydrated man. "Must you really leave?" He said to the maid.

A single tear trickled down Meriel's cheek. "I am afraid so, Lars. The princess has kicked me out of the palace. She has ordered me to go to my relatives' territory in exile. And to not step foot inside the palace any longer." She wept, her gaze turning from her briefcase to the aide standing in her room.

Lar's looked down to the floor while clenching his fist. He seemed to express genuine rage and sadness. "I-is there nothing I could do!?" he pleaded, desperation creeping into his voice. "I can talk to his majesty. Maybe I could convince him to see reason, to intervene—"

"No," Meriel interrupted him, her voice leaving no room for argument. "I cannot let you do that. She might target you, and I won't let that happen."

Lars looked at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of pity and frustration. Without saying another word, Meriel rose from the floor that she was sitting in and walked over to the door, bringing her briefcase with her. With a silent glance back at Lars, she reached out and closed the door behind him, leaving him alone inside the room.

Moments passed and she was now near the gate. A carriage was waiting for her, commissioned by her relatives. Just outside the gate, was a young man wearing a monocle. The Head Scribe of the royal palace, Raul Edinburg entered the scene.

"Miss Mayfield," he addressed her, his voice tinged with a sternness that barely masked an underlying emotion. "I- no. May your travels be safe, and may the gods shower fortune upon your future endeavors." Raul squeezed his own shoulder, as if holding himself back from crying.

Meriel gazed at him with affection. "To you as well, Milord." The maid bowed as she stepped inside the carriage and beckoned the coachman to go.

As she looked back. She saw Raul look down in disappointment as the sound of the carriage wheels rolling over the cobblestone pathway echoed softly in the distance.

Now Meriel was alone inside the carriage. A grin widened across her face, and with a swift and confident motion, she snapped her fingers, and like magic, a sleek, translucent screen materialized before her. It displayed various data relating to the capture targets:

[Lars Watson]

Affection (100%)

Traits: Shy, Affectionate, Hardworking, Friendly.

She swiped the display and another data was presented before her.

[Raul Edinburg]

Affection (100%)

Traits: Stern, Tsun, Hates slackers, Workaholic.

And with another swipe, the display changed once again. This time, it invoked a scowl of disappointment. She shook her head. "Nevermind, the harem endings only require eighty percent anyway."

[Jackson Antares]

Affection (81%)

Traits: Carefree, Battle maniac, Casanova wannabe, Prodigy.

Wiping away the disappointment from her face, she swiped again. "What in the world...? What- the hell is this!?" The display before her had undergone a dramatic transformation. Gone were the vibrant colors and roses of the dating sim she had been expecting. Instead, she was now confronted with a stat sheet that screamed action RPG.

Master: None

True Name: Castus Isaiah Merialis III / S***** ****a

Sex: Male

Height/Weight: 179cm 70kg

Alignment: Neutral-Good

STR: E

CON: C

AGI: D+

MGI: C

LCK: D

NP:?

Moments ago, the screen were entirely normal. "What happened!?" This sudden change was really getting to her, causing her to have headache. Before she could think about it any further, the headache got worse. To her surprise, the carriage had stopped moving.

In the blink of an eye, her vison changed from the carriage into an entirely different scene. She this sensation all too well. "Symphathize?" But for whom, she thought. The vehicle started moving again.

But now, she recognized the sound that it made. The sound of a modern car. Meriel's eyes darted to her side and landed on auburn-haired boy with golden-brown eyes, no older than five, seated next to her. The memory that she was viewing seems so vivid. Unlike the glimpses that sympathize usually shows.

"Mom?" The boy spoke with innocence.


A/N: Hints on who Meriel is… You try and solve that headache cuz... Anyway! Thank you for reading. As soon as I get time I will aim to update my other fics, as I do not plan on abandoning them.

Once again, thank you for the support. Follow and favourite, review if you can. This is TurquoiseMonarch, and peace be with you, always.