"The SHEBA system, center to Chaldea was created for what purpose?"

"To observe the order of Humanity and protect it against threats that seek to destroy it."

"The SHEBA system is based off of what two concepts."

"Pure magic… controlled by and manipulating the Throne of Heroes, o-or the power that comes from it."

"This excess amount of power requires SHEBA to be watched by what three entities."

"The… Clocktower, United Nations and… um…"

WHACK!

Ritsuka pushed back in his seat as a book hit the edge of the metal table. He glanced at it, but kept his eyes up on Olga, a disappointed scowl framed by her alabaster hair.

"By the Church! Your church! How did you forget that one?" His jaw worked for a moment.

"My church was focused on teaching the ways of Jesus Christ, and guiding those through him to the Lord of Hosts. Salvation. It's not about… monitoring magical wavelengths." She groaned above him.

"Circuits. Circuits or currents. You can fenagle the term into vessels if you like, but they are not wavelengths. They are not some sinusoidal pressure that is flicked into the air like a radio beacon. They are beyond the metrics of technology alone." She stood up and took a long sigh. "Can you tell me the reason for that?"

"Because technology relies upon laws of the world and absolutes about reality, like the force of gravity or density of a material. Magic is about transfer of energy between sources, attempting to alter or circumvent the laws of reality." He sighed as well. "And it is a reminder to myself why the Church forbade the magical arts."

"No, they forbade it in your book because of blood sacrifices and believing human death was good enough to get over sin." She wasn't wrong. "The real reason your Church doesn't like magic is because it can make it difficult for their scholars to be able to employ dampening arts, such as their famed keys."

"Because you can't be both zero and one." The words, spoken on instinct, got the Director to smile.

"Perfect!" She snapped her fingers. "Finally got it." He held a twisted neutral expression. "What? I gave you compliment. You were right."

"Yeah, but I don't know why I am right." Her disdain was back. "I mean… I get the concept, but thinking about how to use it… I just want to go back and watch the teachings of Fulton Sheen."

"I'm more surprised you want to watch an American Priest talk about politics and religion over learning the literal underbelly politics of the world. One seems more important than the other." She crossed her arms, looking down at him. "You've learned a lot these past few weeks. I am anything but ashamed about your progress. In fact, a month or two ago, I would have said you were the weakest link in a very brittle chain."

"Thanks?"

"But Orleans changed that. You showed that you not only can learn, but what you know is important. After all, with who we are up against, we need you to know of this world." Ritsuka didn't respond to Olga. The name of the city came back to him.

Of the Servants who laughed with him, danced with him, fought with him, and spoke to him.

And the lost Master, dying in a gout of hellfire.

Burning burning burning burning burning burning

Clap

Ritsuka jumped as Olga clapped her hands before him. He looked up at her golden eyes, almost afraid of what he'd see. Dissapoint, resentment, anger? She'd done as so many times while they were teaching. Not so much this time now.

Now, the Director of Chaldea only looked down at him, across folded hands, with a look of patience.

"Does it still scare you?" She asked softly. "Being in the war?" He swallowed on nothing.

"War…" he started. "I don't think… I was in a war. Not really. Battles, fights, things that I read about in the bible, but not a war. What I saw… was fire."

"The fake Joan." Ritsuka nodded, once. But then shook his head.

"That was a reminder. The actual fire, what I saw…" A broken body begging for power, grabbed by a hand of demons that were burning burning burning burning burning. "It's hard to forget."

"And you were never conditioned for it. Just the opposite, you were taught to always fear it. So of course seeing it hasn't done you any good." The exasperation was back. "Well, this is why magus are taught the blithe use of emotions, more for motivation than direction. I can't fault you for being afraid of fire of all things. Not after what we saw at first."

Where the burning started, she meant. He understood. Too well, in fact.

"But that's why I need you to focus and learn. Not unlearn, because I'll be one of the few to admit that you're knowledge of Jesus and his teachings is beyond beneficial now." One hand fell, letting her raise a single digit in the air. "But knowing just about Jesus and his works isn't enough. You have to know about the other powers at play here, or else your liable to be a liability in the field."

"I know, I know." And he did know. He could recall too many times of being instructed about the Chaldea works or the basic history of the other heroes that were summoned. There was no excuse or reason for not knowing them.

If a priest or sister could learn of a lost soul, they could bring them into the flock. He was not right to not learn about those who never heard the word.

"Good, and for the record, I am happy with the progress you are making." She looked confidently at him. "It's far from what someone your age is expected to know if they group up in a Magus family, or even community, but its better than what most get out of crash courses."

"Maybe because… you haven't really stopped teaching me?" Ristsuka ventured a guess. "I think we've been in these classes more often then I've been sleeping."

"And that's odd?"

"I think… doing anything more than eight hours straight is odd." She blinked at him. "Even the saints would break prayer for labor or rest." She opened her mouth.

"Well, I think that explains the difference between priorities then." He could only stare back. "The knowledge I have to teach you is more important that rest or relaxation."

"I'm not saying it isn't important, but… this much?" He looked aside her. Olga followed his gaze.

To her left were more textbooks than Hymnals present in St. Peter's Basilica. Enough to cover the molding of the wall and rise up to just his height. Then stretch the length of the wall of the lesson room. A room meant to house over fifty people, comfortably, at once. Each book was had a different name scrawled on the splines, and each one appearing to be just that, scrawled.

"That are some of the necessary lessons you have to learn," Olga defended without a blush. "They are more than just the basics of the moonlit world, but also hierarchical structures in different magus families throughout opposing regions in history, their Thermatology they use to cast their crafts, and that's not even touching on the section of books detailing the heroic legends." She tapped her foot. "I trust that last group, at least, you feel inclined to learn about."

"It was what I thought I was going to learn about." He spoke simply. "But all we've really touched on are the dragons, before we started talking about the Clocktower."

"That's because you don't understand the nuances of dragons." She put hands to hips, giving a glare only a woman in power could to an unlearned subordinate. "You kept saying that every dragon was right to be eradicated, and more for than just solidifying a hero's rise to the Throne of Heroes."

"Dragons are drakes, minions of the devil." Olga groaned at Ritsuka's response. He only shifted lightly in his seat. "Near all the stories we went over so far detail this."

"Where dragons attacked humanity, yes, but I brought up the Clocktower because it is built over the bones of a dragon that failed to cross the borders of the world. It's why its one of the largest magical focal points in all of London."

"That doesn't make it a good thing. It's dead."

"True, but dragons have say over how their powers are used. The famous knight Siegfried was only able to gain the impenetrable skin because the dragon he slew, Fafnir, allowed him to use his blood."

"I remember, the same dragon the fake Joan used." Ritsuka kept his gaze even. "The same dragon that tried to kill us, and St. George had to face off against. The same saint made so for felling dragons."

"Yes, evil dragons. And there fact that the adjective is needed there shows the exception must exist. You'd never say wet water."

"I could say sinful humans. All humans are filled with sin. It is why we need to bath in the waters of Christ and atone for original sin." Ritsuka expected Olga to shake her head in disappointment, or make a comment of how antiquated the idea was. Instead, she smirked.

"Would you include Mary in that number."

His body froze, shaking with the sudden stillness of his limbs. The Director's smile was poised.

"You see? Exceptions."

"How about vile demons? Are you going to say there are demons that aren't?"

"I'm sure there has to be at least one." Ritsuka had to shut his eyes now. The absurdity of the statement. "Me being unable to name one does not eliminate the ability for one to exist. There are many stories in Japanese lore of oni, or demons, that have assisted heroes."

"Those are monsters at best. Demons are angels who scorned God. They are, by definition, vile. Evil."

"You are calling things not of God evil, eliminating large pools of potential demons to consider good." As if she held the bible itself, Olga held up another scrawled text. Thinner than others, but no less intimidating in volume. "And there are entire scores of histories dedicated to finding these nuances to good and evil. Knowing those lines is part of discovering the root. You know what the Root is, correct."

"We're talking about-"

"We are still in the dedicated time frame for you to learn about the history of Maguses and the Moonlit world, and that means you have to answer my question." She shut him up with a stare, putting the book down. "Now, the Root. What is it and why is it important to Maguses?"

"The Root…" Ritsuka began, words of evil and dark gray lines still fresh in his mind. He shut his jaw, remembering the Root for what it had to be, spoken of in Fuyuki, of its definition. He swirled his tongue before answering. "The Root is either the source of all Magic, or the Lord of Hosts." He watched Olga lean back, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"And the why?"

"Because Maguses believe that if they can reach the source of all magic, they can understand the shaping of the world, and be able to unravel the mysteries of existence." Ritsuka could not abide his tongue this time. "Instead of giving faith to the Lord to witness him upon a righteous life."

"Wrong!" She lifted and dropped the book. "So close, but you had to add that last part, didn't you?"

"I did." He confessed. "I can't just lie about the Lord. It does his holy name injustice."

"You don't know what the Root is anymore than any other Magus before you! That's why the summoning Rituals were created in the first place, to help use a great wish on the Holy Grail to reach the root and understand it. Just saying it's God and throwing it away is asinine."

"You describe it as the source of all things, unlimited power, and with it, the infinite of possibilities laid out before you." She didn't correct him. "That's God."

"That could be a lot of things."

"It really can't."

"Actually, it really can." Both Ritsuka and Olga turned towards the door.

Leaning against it, robe hanging from his diagonal form, was the King of Israel, adorned in red cloth and golden highlights, waving a hand bearing a ring on each finger. His grin was lazy as he looked, earning a long sigh from the Director. Ritsuka only stared.

"You think it could… be anything?"

"I think the Root could be anything really," The man continued. "It could be the bottom of the well, or the cobblestone sifting the muck and water underneath. It could be the magma beneath the sheet of dirt of the world, or it could be the nexus that ties the leylines of the world together." He threaded his fingers together, silencing the chinkling of his rings. "The Root could be many things, because all Maguses have on it, even now, is speculation."

"Thank you! Yes!" Olga almost lifted her head up to thank God. "Like he said. Just like that."

"But, it could be the source of all things-"

"Of this world," He interrupted. "But there is more to life than just this world. I should know." He waved again, before unfolding his hand towards Ritsuka. "As do you." A single finger pointing towards the boy's neck.

The Cross hung from it.

Ritsuka grabbed it, holding it closer to him. He looked up, the alabaster haired man, tanned skin of the desert, smiling down at him. It was a look of a mentor to a young student. Ritsuka believe it for a moment. Olga knew better.

"Why are you here, Solomon?" She crossed her arms and put her weight on one foot. "I thought we agreed you wouldn't interrupt my lessons again."

"There wasn't an agreement, just an order."

"Da Vinci and I agreed that you trying to get Ritsuka to learn about how to manage harems was completely antithetical to learning about the world." The boy hung his head, horrified that a great King had given him a book detailing that. The memory was as vivid as the images were detailed. "Especially if that is your first concern."

"Hey, repopulation is important, especially if the Order of Humanity is in jeopardy." He grinned unabashed with his vices. "Sadly, I have to say that I'm not here to impart more of my wisdom."

"You can't hide here either. I don't care what of Da Vinci's you've broken." The man's poise shook.

"I don't need to hide… at the moment." He adjusted his neck. "Actually, she told me to gather Ritsuka and you. We believe we found another member of Team A."

The concentration of the director changed instantly.

"Where? When? As in what moment in time are they trapped in." She as already walking towards the door. Ritsuka pushed up and followed, Solomon easily keeping pace with the pair of them. "It has to be somewhere significant again. Somewhere we know."

"It is, and it isn't. Isn't as in it wasn't one before." The king hummed as he walked. "But the location is more surprising that much else. It was Da Vinci's idea to look over it through the Order of Humanity for disruption. Don't worry, she'll tell you all about it."

"Can't you give me a straight answer for once? Without jests or teasing?" Solomon smiled at the Director's back.

"I am capable, but years on the throne doing just that has made it lose its splendor. It's much more fun to make someone think for a change." Olga let out a sound of annoyance. Ritsuka only sighed as he kept pace with them. "In honesty, I wouldn't mind telling you, but I think I'd rather deal with you being annoyed with me for a few moments than have Da Vinci threaten me for ruining her 'genius'."

"Bold of you to assume I am only annoyed at you in spurts," the Director pointed at him, stopping to swipe at a door. It opened, revealing the inner workings of Chaldea's remaining staff. Them, and the control center of the SHEBA system.

It kept the ominous red glow about the sealed chamber. A chamber that had been filled with fire and likely brimstone, still possessing the jagged scars of explosions from within metal structures. Ritsuka kept his eyes on it, tracing the coffins that he'd seen bodies being held and trapped within. Just as many trapped in what they never thought to be their final rest.

And six more in there were neither resting nor waiting. They were plotting.

"Oh? Still have your eyes for the SHEBA?" Ritsuka turned at the call of the famed inventor. She walked forwards, staff clinking as she kept her eternal grin up. "I'm almost insulted, flabbergasted even. I sent dear Solomon here to fetch you with fine news, and you still want to stare at the coffins."

"I'm just… thinking." Of the burning burning burning burning burning. "The rest of them in there… what they did… what's happening-"

"Tut-tut," Ritsuka's words were cut off by the giant gauntlet of Da Vinci waving in his face. Blue metal threatening him like a blade, with but one of her fingers raised. "We already know all those things. No reason to think on them unless you have a new question. A question such as 'where are they now'?"

"Where are they now, Da Vinci?" Olga spoke up behind the pair. Her arms were crossed, with Solomon taking posture behind her, more than pleased to be afar from center. "And a direct answer this time. You can tell us the theory after we know."

The perpetual smile of the Mona Lisa was all teeth as she faced the Director.

"The Vatican City."

That same smile seemed to grow at the bewildered expression of Olga. Open mouth, shake of the jaw, then a sudden twist of her head to face Ritsuka. She blinked at him, and it took him a moment to realize he must have had the same expression as her.

"The Vatican City? Rome?"

"The Vatican City in Rome," Da Vinci corrected. "Romans wanted to claim it, didn't they Romani?" The woman laughed with her comment.

"Turning what was one of the great bastion of Catholicism, built over the grave of the first Pope, who is rumored now to watch the Golden Gates. A tomb that sits under a Basillica so great that it is lined with gold and works of art of centuries, topped with the Sistine Chapel? Of course Rome wanted it. Too bad that by the time they realized its worth, Rome was almost worthless." He waved his head back and forth silver hair following. "But Constantine did put up a long fight in Constantinople in the name of Rome, and Catholicism, so it is a matter of favoritism who got who."

"Better question," Olga followed, recovering. "Who has the Vatican City?"

"Rome, weren't you paying attention to Solomon? I'm told he is wise, though perhaps not a genius."

"Da Vinci!" The director almost slammed her foot down. "You are a genius so you know what I'm talking about." The Servant straightened herself with the comment, but Ritsuka couldn't fight the suspicion it was to prove her worth as a genius.

That was done with a wave of her large staff, the globe of it unraveling like paper. Ritsuka, still learning of the ties between magic and reality, watched as the pieces of falling metal floated and twisted, without arcing electricity or string. Something as fluid as air, curvy as water, but light as mist trickled about the elements. Elements that coalesced and made took control of the screens around them.

A screen that showed a frightening young woman. One with dark hair wrapped in long pig tails and bangs that hide the larger portion of her forehead. Eyes like slits looked passed them, framed all the more by heavy glasses. Pursed lips that he couldn't help but think were growing curses between them. Her skin was pale, very pale. Pale enough that the normally white walls and screen were instead dimmed black, or else she may have been lost against them.

"Hinako Akuta," Da Vinci spoke on, letting images appear about the screen as her orb spun. "One of the more aloof members of Team A, though not without reason~. She was a skilled botanist who impressed Marisbury with her understanding of history, older tongues, and most importantly, drawing power between technology and Leylines corrections. While not as much of a genius as I may be, she was far from inadequate as a Summoner candidate."

"She was the only member of the team given exemptions for any medical treatment or testing, mostly because there wasn't a day in in her stay here, the Clocktower, or even among Atlas that needed to be cared for." Solomon added, drawing on his memories as Romani. "In fact, she was very angry about the idea of taking off so much as her glasses for someone else, let alone letting them draw blood."

"Certainly not abnormal, but less common than having her request accepted." Da Vinci agreed. "But remember what I said, she was aloof~. She cared not for what anyone tried to speak with her, or help her, or befriend her. From what we have in notes and testimonies of nearby technicians, she was only ever willing to assist if she could use what she helped you with."

"And she'd refuse to help otherwise," Olga added. The expression her face was complicated to Ritsuka. Not disdainful, no, but not contemplative either. Disappointed maybe? "More than a few times she'd allow summoning circles to be wasted because she didn't seek to correct improper sigil graphs, even when she proved later to have seen, known they were wrong, and could have helped. It was just beneath her, apparently."

"So she's… a noble?" He ventured to guess.

"Noble… oh!" Olga gave him a look. "You mean from a line of Magus. Closer, but say strong heritage. Plenty of noble blood without strength." He nodded once. "And no, at least none that we could find. In fact, she seemed to be from the middle of nowhere, but possessing excellent circuits regardless."

"It was why I did offer to do an examination, to see if we could find out why." Solomon rubbed his head… and then his neck. "Didn't have the breath to ask twice once she said no once."

"She's… isolated then, alone by choice." Ritsuka understood, but not by understanding. He'd seen plenty of people like that before, those who entered church and those who walked by. Plenty of ability o speak, to learn, to greet others, but always choosing not to.

Forgoing kindness in order to not risk being weighted down with grief. He shook his head, knowing the truth and how incorrect such a thought could be.

"Okay so you found Hinako, that is good. But she's in Vatican City? Why would she be there?" She eyed the famed Italian inventor for a minute, before he eyes moved to Ritsuka. "Do you know?"

"Me? How would…" he thought on it, and kept his eyes carefully measured with her gaze. "I mean, there's a lot of fame behind the Vatican City, over two millenia. But it wasn't established as the Vatican by St. Peter, only over his grave after his death. The greater works of art and the basilica were only raised after the persecution of the Catholics was no longer allowed. They couldn't risk it."

"Risk being killed?" She asked, though the snide of her comment was vacant. He only heard genuine curiosity. "Wasn't it you who said dying for Jesus was a worthwhile venture. Those in Orleans said much the same, including Longinus."

"Yes," he would not deny. "But Nero was not an Emperor that would only kill you for your faith." His features were hard at the memory.

The sisters telling him how blessed they were that they could worship God, even if those around them thought them odd. So different from the times of Shirou who was slain with his followers for daring to utter the name of God, or those when the faith was young, and were made mockeries.

"I'm surprised you know of Emperor Nero. Usually, I have to explain the basic geography for you."

"Nero crucified St. Peter upside for a circus of entertainment, and only because he wished to renact the death of Christ to bring about a new end of the world, but St. Peter begged to be killed upside down, as he thought himself unworthy of dying as God did." He ground his teeth. "Staking those who followed Peter and couldn't escape and lighting them afire while parading them through the streets. Nero's Circus… lit by Roman Candles."

He could still see the images in the books the sisters gave him, as well as reminders that their deaths were made so he could spread the word freely. An opportunity that would only mock God to pass.

"Oh… you really know of him,~" Da Vinci almost seemed to sing. "I suppose that is a matter of divine providence then, being that you will be going to the Vatican City even he didn't allow to be desecrated." The smile of Da Vinci twisted, an almost somber grin to her expression. "More's the pity it will be centuries after the death of the Apostle, however, far after the bible was penned, published, and gifted to the world."

"When then. It can't be during the Renaissance," Olga deduced. "You wouldn't be able to stop singing about all the things we'd have to see and your works we'd have to look over." She laughed haughtily at the Director's words.

"She's got you there, Da Vinci,"

"By the tail even!" The woman agreed. "It is not, I'm sad to say. Far before my works or even the magnificent carvings of Michelangelo or his divine paintings and frescos." Her rod twirled as she spoke, almost dreaming aloud. "Even earlier than the deductions of Rapheal and the murals of his work."

"Da Vinci!"

"No!" She cried out, as if on stage. Ritsuka took a step back, aware of the heavy metal rod she was swinging. And the heavy metal hand. "No time for art or peace, you dear Master," she aimed at him. "Are heading to a war!"

"War? Again?" He asked. Then shook his head. "Wait, no, there was no war over the Vatican City. Not a religious war, was there?" He twisted his head in thought.

"A religious war, no." Da Vinci agreed. "A full scale war, hardly." She crushed a fly between her fingers, though nothing was between them. "An assault upon the holy site? Oh most assuredly." The hints lined up.

"The invasion of the Muslims," he muttered. "The taking of the Catholic empires." He looked to the Director, seeing her and Solomon eyeing him, with looks of wonder and patience, respectively. "Muslim troops raided southern Europe seeking to establish the faith over the lands, killing Christians, Catholics and Orthodox in droves, pillaging anything of fine gold or jewels. The Lord spoke to David to decorate his temples with fine gold and jewels, to show beauty and have others recognize his glory. Something repeated through Catholic art and architecture."

"You do know a lot more about this, don't you?" Olga asked, almost suspiciously. "More than even I do."

"Second to me," Solomon held up his hand. "I did have to make some of those temples you're talking about."

"Third, actually, unless you wish to put your mind above mine, Solomon~." Da Vinci sang. She lifted her head up as high as she believed she was above them, before tilting it down to rest on the thumb of her human hand. "But there is an oddity in this as well, one related to our precious Master."

"That is?"

"There are thousands of possible points of conflict in the Order of Humanity where danger could arise from," the famed inventor began. She twisted her gauntlet, making the staff on her hand twist with it. The floating orb and its separated parts seem to twirl about one another, leaving Ritsuka to wonder for a moment if it would fold like paper.

The question was quickly replaced with watching images fly across the screen above, and the rapid typing of computers from the technicians about the Surveillance room. Olga and Solomon watched the screen, following it more intently that he did, or could.

"There could be the point of war in the Punic saga, the failed rise of a shogunate, a plague too long in the deserts of Egypt, or even a few mythical beasts that were found at opportune times. Any of these being altered would have led to not mere changes, but dramatic shifts in the order of Humanity, ultimately relegating the current time to a statistical impossibility." Such images flashed across the screen above.

"That's the danger of it all, and why my father started the Chaldea program," Olga went on. "What's your point with this?"

"My point, dear Director, fine as the edge of a surgeon's sharpened scalpel, is that we have had three conflicts with the orders of humanity, one of which was the loss of your father's life… and the other two were the twisting of the faith for the Catholic church~." Her musing eyes fell on him.

Ritsuka had no such musings, only ill feelings, as he watched the cross, meant to be lifted high for all, being flashed on the screen. It, along with fires, murder, wars, pillaging, and the destruction of the land around them. It done with Vikings proud of their craft, invaders worshipping devils, or even demons working from within the church, with corrupt priests leading thousands of souls along the path to hell.

"It's not surprising," he argued weakly back. "We're against the devil."

"True~!" Da Vinci sang. "But the Prince of Lies know not the challenge the truth so heartily. I'd never paint the great St. Michael with horns, so true would the devil be ill to try and declare Christ fake!"

"You never painted St. Michael, did you?" There was honest curiosity in Solomon's voice.

"Nope, though not for a lack of ideas. More of a lack of rigidity." Her gauntlet clinked against the staff in a rising tone, each digit hitting the diaphysis of the shaft in different beats. "Was he blond with curls to the froe of his neck, or did his wings rise like the great Seraphim he challenged? Was he able to lift the flaming sword as one would a pike, or did it fall as like a spear cast from God's gaze?"

"Please, get to the point. Why is this all so concerning?" Olga rolled her head. "Or more concerning."

"I don't know?" The shrug she gave was too easy. "I'm stating there is a void of logic that I wish to see filled, but thoughts without facts are houses on sand."

"They cannot stand." Ritsuka recalled the teachings of Jesus well. "You must build on stone, no matter the struggle."

"Very good! And know you may know my concern. Why is the Prince of Lies, the King of Hell, the first great rebel against God on high, being so crass with his methods against the Lord? At least with Adam and Eve, he made them fall with truth among lies."

"He told them the truth?" Olga laughed. "No, the myth was that he told them to take the apple for God feared it. A blatant lie." Solomon grinned down at her, as did Da Vinci.

Both of them turned their eyes to him. Ritsuka looked between them, even spying many of the techs looking over their terminals in curiosity. Olga's expression slowly darkened as she realized their focus. He coughed once, moving a few strands of black hair from his eyes, before speaking.

"The devil, as a Serpent, a drake, told Eve that the apple contained the knowledge of God, and was kept from her and Adam out of jealousy. This… is mostly true." Golden eyes widened at him. "It was of knowledge, of all the Lord knew. They ate it, and they then knew they were naked. So… they clothed themselves. Then they knew they did wrong against God, so they hid." Olga watched him, eyes level. "The apple gave them knowledge, but not truth. It was delivered on the forked tongue from the Prince of Lies."

"Right." It was, correct even. The stare of the Director was one of calm acceptance, but bathed in skepticism. He'd seen it often before. "So then your concern, Da Vinci, is that compared to that method, he's being too direct?"

"A hammer over the chisel, one would say," Solomon interjected. "Instead of shaving away the goodness of the Lord, he's just trying to break it." The king's smile was wily. "Of course, the resilience of Man is strong."

"SHEBA's current state would say otherwise." She waved her hand at the sphere beyond the glass dorm. "But we are able to fight it. And if the Devil is being blunt and crass, then that's our benefit. We just need a stronger arm to push him back."

"Is there a force we have that can match the devil?" Da Vinci's smile was unchanged.

Even as Olga flashed her own.

"Why not ask him?" She thumbed at Ristuka. "Even I know the next quote." The flash of her smile fell on him.

It held, strong and confident. The smile she gave after his return from Orleans, and with the promise to keep fighting. He returned it, straightening his back as he did so.

"If God stands with us, who can stand against us?"

It was a flurry of preparation after that, the same way as last time.

Da Vinci handling all the logistics of the Rayshifting within the SHEBA control system. Olga handling personal and making preparations of information gathering, including notable figures of the time period who he could meet. Solomon counting his rings and speaking of pranks under his breath he wished others didn't hear.

And Ritsuka time to pray.

Pray, wait, and let the coming Rayshift settle in his mind as he knew the Lord guided his soul. Remembering being swept through time and space, ending in a land that he'd never seen, with legends he'd once heard and adored, and learned of things he never thought of the world.

It was all about to happen again, and yet closer to home. Closer to the Lord. He prayed for strength and patience as he waited for the hours to pass.

Only fifteen minutes before Da Vinci said she'd be prepared, the same Master stood outside the bulkhead doors of the Rayshifting chamber. He was shifting as he stood, uneasy with what he wore. Ritsuka adjusted the Battle Suit, feeling the tightness around his neck and wrists. The rest he could mistake for fitted clothing, but the stiffness about his joints was not something he was used to. Not the first, second, nor even the third time.

Counting training, this had to be at least the third dozenth time he'd worn it. He still didn't like it.

No matter how many times Olga had told him it was necessary and appropriate to wear to maximize the stability of his Spiritrons while transporting him through the Human Order and time itself. It was the idea of being lost for wearing the wrong 'cloth' that let him deal with the lack of comfort.

He didn't like there being conflict in the Vatican City. He didn't like Da Vinci's point of the devil's normal machinations. He didn't like that the Team dedicated to 'saving' humanity had sold themselves to the 'destroyer' of it. He didn't like that one of them was, doubtlessly doing harm to the Holy City.

Ritsuka didn't like any of it. Not even his attire.

Clap. Not even as Solomon slapped a hand on his shoulder, leaning over to grin at him.

"So how are you feeling Master? Loosened up, got your breath back? Ready to step foot on the Holy Land?"

"It's not the Holy Land," Ritsuka corrected. "It's a blessed city but… it's not the holy land."

The Vatican City was not built over Israel. Not even where Christ was last witnessed. Only where St. Peter was buried after he carried on the work of the Lord.

"That the Master of Chaldea, all full of knowledge about the way of the Lord. Him and his only begotten Son. Thank the very God on high you're the one we can depend on." He swallowed at the king's words.

"Maybe. I still don't know enough." Memories of just this morning swam in his head. Books he hadn't read, and questions he struggled to answer. Basic, simple, but so far above him the stars were within his grasp in comparison.

"That's who knowledge usually works. Some of it you know, some of it you don't. I was the Wise king, after all. Not the All-Knowing." The king spun in front of him, red robe flurrowing with the display. "There is only one who knows all, and he is the fine separation between knowledge and wisdom."

"I would argue you weren't always wise."

"Oh sure, you can say that now," Solomon took the words in stride. "But when you had kings marching from lands farther than the strength of Pangea to find me, the term wise was often spoken only with my name attached." Of that, Ritsuka could not deny. "So much more that the Lord took me upon my death and scribed me as the Grand Caster to guard this realm, before one Marie Animusphere summoned me to win a War in Japan."

"And with the wish on the Grail, you two were able to establish Chaldea and help guard the Human Order." Ritsuka recited. "Olga had me memorize that first, while we were in Fuyuki."

"You're Fuyuki, not mine." The king pointed at him, rings clinking together. "Mine ended with six dead Masters, seven dead Servants, and a city that thought the gas lines needed to be fixed. Yours was a pyre even Rome would blush in comparison with." All true. "Same name, same time, different place. Do you understand."

"I understand we were in a time upset by the destruction of the Human Order." Ritsuka tapped his foot, trying to adjust the back heel.

"Quite right. Quite the same as we are going to as well." The King held up two hands, each with a finger in the air. "We are not going to the Vatican City that was once nor what was told to you in your classes. This is one changed in some way that we are soon to find. Maybe the pope has turned to the devil."

"Impossible."

"Maybe the Romans have risen up and sacked Rome for their own pleasure."

"Less impossible."

"Or maybe God has decided that he wanted to have a Saint venerated over his son."

"Back to impossible."

"Wait, that's impossible? I thought his son was meant to be the lamb for our sacrifice?"

"St. Peter was the first pope to whom the Church, and the words of Jesus, spread through the land. As Jesus ascended into heaven, no tomb of his is left on Earth." Solomon nodded, smiling all the while. Ritsuka did not miss it. "He is the lamb of God, to whom takes on all sin. No one is to be seen above him. Ever."

"That's correct again. And it's why you have to be prepared for anything we see going there." Ritsuka blinked at him. "Even the impossible." As the man smiled and spoke he held up a piece of paper, blank facing Ritsuka. The same Master narrowed his gaze at the king, even as golden eyes grinned with matching lips down towards him. "A coin for your thoughts?"

"I'm thinking… I want to hit you." Solomon, still grinning, handed him a piece of paper, produced from out of his robe. Ritsuka took it, reading it over.

'He's going to want to hit me.'

He looked back up, the man grinning so widely, he was all teeth and no eyes.

"See? Wisdom!"

"Hello hello~! Are the both of you ready?" Da Vinci's words came from the speakers, caught in parallel with the bulk head doors opening up, letting the lone Master and Servant walk into the Rayshifting chamber. "Systems are set, marker locked in, and prepared to rayshifting procedures."

"Sorry sorry, we have to delay!" Solomon waved up to the glass, earning a blink and tired sigh from Da Vinci and the Director.

"Oh what now?"

"You don't have my correct parameters anymore." The comment floored as much as it confused Olga. "I appear to have taken an injury and no longer have matching Spiritrons."

"Injury? How!?" The alabaster hair of the director waved as she made her way to the window. She narrowed her golden eyes, staring down at the Grand Caster.

Over tan skin, the director could see a slowly forming lump, forcing his right eye to swell shut. A half-hazard wink a playboy such as Solomon would never have gotten wrong. And by the way he favored his gaze, and the aversion Ritsuka had to gaze at him, it was only too clear what happened.

Clear as the laughter of the famed Italian Inventor.

"Oh my~. It appears the Wisdom of Solomon is stronger than the patience of our Master."

"I'm not a saint." He weakly, pathetically, defended. "And he… I feel he deserved it."

"Why, Ritsuka?" Olga almost whined. Almost. Instead, she snarled it. "Why did you hit him?"

"He was telling me to prepare for the Vatican City to be sacked by Rome." That was a definite possibility that Olga theorized, having a portion of her intel related to the Roman generals and possible leaders who would lead such a charge. "Or its followers to be worshipping the devil."

Her jaw dropped. Da Vinci, balancing on her staff, laughed harder.

"And you hit him for it?" She questioned again. He nodded. "Only once?"

Solomon looked up at her in bewilderment. Ritsuka even blinked.

"Now now, deserving as the King is of punishment, we do have a member of Team A to find, and an error in the Order of Humanity to correct. No better place to ease tension then the field of war~."

"Da Vinci, again, can't leave." The king made a circle over his face. "A masterpiece is ruined. We need a day to fix it."

"Oh no~, you see I've already made the necessary corrections." The woman was all smiles as she gazed down at the former medical director of Chaldea. All eyes, Olga's as well, were on her. "Did you think a genius such as I wouldn't remember you're love for teasing? Under the circumstances, how could Ritsuka not hit you for what you said?"

"You knew he'd hit him?" "You knew what I was going to say?"

"But of course~!" The visage of the Mona Lisa threw her hair back. "You are wise, Solomon, but I know you best." Her smile was all teeth and dripping with joy. "Now enter those coffins and fold your arms tight, you have centuries to fall through."

The technicians about them chuckled in good humor, watching, doubtlessly, as the famed Caster of the Human Order dragged himself into a coffin, all but falling in to it like a spoiled child. Ritsuka took another, more careful as he settled into it. More than a few dozen times entering, and the nerve of sleeping in a coffin it appeared had finally softened.

Soft as the Director's eyes were on him, even as he gazed back up at her. A quick moment shared as they watched one another, before the young Japanese Catholic offered her an assuring smile, and thumbs up. She blinked, scoffed, and turned away.

By the time she looked back, the coffins were locked and the screen above danced with information.

"Age and location set. The Vatican City of Italy, age 846 post the death of Christ." The dazzling display of colors and lines filled above her. The replica of Earth, a scorched red, bloomed across the system. The Director held her breath.

"Spiritrons aligned with the age. Theoretical existence established. Preparing the Rayshift now!" Olga watched as the system flared, straightening her back and leveling her eyes. Her hands were tight behind her, clenched into fists.

"Initiating Rayshift, 3. 2. 1~!"

The system boomed, and the Spiritrons fell through the SHEBA system. She watched until they were flickers of dust.

"Good luck, Ritsuka."

He took aim along the walls. Walls of stone and light mortar, stacked with great weights and a fair height. He judged from standing on them that they would be capable of lasting centuries, millenia if taken care of. Simple stone did much when it was washed with water and kept from the tidings of weather.

BANG! BANG!

Of course, the banging of weaponry often reduced the life of any defense.

TWANG!

Much slower, however, than an arrow to a man's head.

A testament he took humorous note of as the man he felled toppled back, forcing his brethren to push him aside as they clamored for the walls again. Some of a hundred reaching the outer edges, with hammers and shovels over swords and shields. Skin only a shade lighter than the rocks they bashed and dirt they dug up, beating at the walls like children.

Children, however, fully grown, armored with defenses and raised upon the faith of war and blood for riches and salvation. Men screaming of the gold and wealth inside the walls, behind where he stood. Greed and lust in their eyes as they took aim with hammers at the thinnest stacked rocks.

BANG! BANG!

They beat against wall of stone, thick as they were tall, with hammers made for hands.

He watched their efforts create rippling cracks through the stone.

TWANG! TWANG! TWANG!

Arrows loosened from his bow as he took stock of the stronger of them. Each of them, aimed in less time than the blink of an eyes, taking the minds from the men. Taking them with a violent force from their skulls. The efforts created gory mists of red.

Their companions only continued to shove the bodies away.

"Greed has poisoned men's souls," he whispered to himself, letting Prana filled his arm again. He pulled back the string of his black bow, letting the prana create another long yet thin element of metal, crafted from the memory of successful invaders of the west. "Goose-stepping them into misery and bloodshed."

TWANG! Another arrow flew.

Three men fell this time. The force of the blow pushing men back. He snarled at the sight. He didn't disdain the harm done to the men.

But a force able to bowl over three grown men could not have done the walls well.

Silver eyes scanned the expanse of the wall he stood upon. Far lesser than the constructs of the far east, of China's greatest accomplishment or even those of the major cities of Egypt. But for a year's hasty work, without aid of an empire, it was a suitable.

Suitably and nearly overrun by the invaders below. He took a long breath of air, chanting.

"I am the bone of my sword."

The bow vanished from his hand, cracks rippling above him as blades took form in the air. Hanging so much as guillotines, and the men below who saw him stopped. There was trepidation in their gazes. Fear as well. A familiar fear, as it was not the first time he'd formed these blades before them.

Neither was it the first time he loosened them.

Like bullets from yet to be crafted guns, they ripped through the men, slicing off arms with the force of the air alone. Twelve men became thirty, in fewer parts then they began. Blood and gore painted the dirt and grass. To anyone else, to any other war, it would give pause and break. This was like no other, however. Least of all that he had witnessed.

He watched, for not the first time, as men picked up their fallen arms and pushed them back to bloodied stumps. Then moved them as if they were cogs of a broken machine. He watched another push dirt into the holes he'd made in another man's skull, then see that man's eyes spin as he lifted himself from the ground.

The archer had 'killed' no less than sixteen men. Only two were still on the ground.

"Visage or deeds, what is more monstrous?" He mused, before drawing an arrow. He looked down its metallic shaft and took aim, but held it.

A moment after the last man rose, they twisted and ran back.

Like a wave from an ocean, the men who had beaten at the wall began to move back, running from it as if terror was written in blood. The archer watched them retreat and scatter, no three men running in the same direction. Ants with multiple tunnels, vermin with no real home. They vanished swiftly, over hills, trees, and tunnels.

He sighed, stepping back, and falling.

Two dozen feet, he hit the ground, and walked back towards the houses of worship.

People slowly emerged, looking at him from behind wooden doors and chipped walls of stone. Women and men, hands over one another, pushing back children that were clearly entertaining the thoughts of running up to him. Dressed in robes or tied cloth, they were filthy from weeks without washing or running through fresh air. All eyes, however were the same.

Admiration and hopelessness mixed together like alcohol and water. Palatable, but undesirable.

"Umu, so you've returned unscathed! How joyous to see you make it back." He turned with the voice, sighing deeply again.

A woman dressed with a long red cloak, but lacking a dress or a skirt. A thin portion of white fabric over her upper and lower nethers, held back from lunacy only by the golden ribbons tied down her arms and legs. It kept her modest and covered from the back, but all but revealing her utmost pale beauty from the front, matched by the bob-cut golden hair.

There was no joy in any part of him, body or soul, to see her rushing to him with grins and cheer.

"I do as well! Damnable as these creatures may be, they cannot match my beauty or strength when I am running across these fields of battle!" She twisted and flourished a sword. "For I am the only one to claim the greatness of his land!"

"Did the creatures fall to your blade?" He asked, watching her emerald eyes focus on him. "Or did they trip and run away?"

"Rude! They fell in parts because of me!" She held up the red steel again. If blood coated it, it was hidden by the metal. "They wished so well to take me, but my swiftness and strength were ordained to keep them far from me."

"Yet they retreated and ran from you. I suspect few are still laying in the dirt." She glowered at him. He grinned back. "Do not worry. Few can keep down apostles such as these. Even a famed Servant such as yourself."

"Oho? Are you about to declare that you were more successful than I?" She inquired. "A nameless Servant who has no kingdom or deeds to your name?"

"Not at all. I was only able to keep them away." He admitted easily. "But I was at least able to keep damage to the wall minimal. I trust you were able to do the same." She puffed her cheeks at the insinuation. "Oh? Perhaps I overestimated the esteemed Emperor of Rome."

"You speak rudely to me, is what you do." She pointed at him. "It is by my grace I am here, as there is no Master to bind me to this land, and I fight for myself." She waved behind her at the people.

People who clearly kept distance, fearful of them as they were the terrors and clamors of battle beyond. The Archer watched, unaffected. Neither was the woman.

"These people mean little to me, and I have no reason to stay here."

"Then jump the walls and leave," he offered the woman. A disdaining smile on his face. "Let the men out there see your brashness and feel Rome. Let them attempt to take Rome from you. Every inch of it." His green was as white as his hair.

The woman's blonde bob fell, turning her presumptuous gaze into a menacing stare.

"Umu, you think of me a special kind of fool, don't you? Asking me to throw myself at feral men enchanted with a Caster's crest by the hundreds." She unforrowed her arms, showing all. Nearly all, the little of her red garb covering but the essentials. "I am a treasure of the empire of Rome and will have my name recalled for history. Those barbarians, lacking any grace or knowledge of my esteem, would waste me away piece-by-piece."

"As I said," the archer repeated, all teeth. "Every inch."

The woman twirled as if a dial, heel stuck in the ground. Her hand reached out, leaning back to grab her blade in a long twirl, whirling back with it reaching for the man's neck in one long beautiful arc. He watched, leaning back, letting the raucous tip sail over his eyes. In the same lean of his own, he uttered an immortal chant.

Blades of black and white appeared in his hands, swinging up for the woman's spine.

THUNK! They stopped as they were embedded in hard wood.

THUNK-CRSH! The woman's blade did the same, severing far deeper than his own pair.

"Enough!" Came the voice of a giant. Both turned, straightening themselves as the boom of the ground followed. Given the limited size of the city, he was impossible to miss. The figure of a hairless bear, with the glory of war upon his shoulders. Bright eyes filled with strength, tempered rage, and honed discipline. All of it with a beard long enough to hide his neck.

One look and both knew he didn't not create the 'tree' between them. The other tall man behind him did. With eyes of red, skin tan as the invaders outside, and housing the citizens of the city around him.

Citizens, denizens, and all around unbloodied people who huddled behind one man, watching another temper two warriors.

"You fight as though you are enemies at war, whilst a true evil lurks just beyond." The giant grabbed attention with his voice, judgement in his words. "Have you forgotten who we fight the moment they turn? Do you seek blood so readily you wish to spill that of your family?"

"My family is not of this time," the archer spoke, grinning. "Perhaps she should be spoken to, as these are the people who survived her reign."

"I seek to defend what remains in my territory, so that I may stand over it again!" The woman proclaimed like the teenager she appeared to be. "I'll not have you insinuate I sully myself like a whore."

"Then dress as a leader, not a tart." She drew her sword back. The man stepped before her.

TWANG! It bounced off of his body, harmlessly.

"I said enough!" His voice boomed. "The invaders have retreated, but only for the reason of their waning magic. They will return in swift time and we have yet to know where they gather their power from. If you take this lull in war to fight, you will be faced with a horde stronger the next time they rise."

"No luck in the search then?" The archer turned conversation, letting the giant look upon him. "The traitor has not spoken of our enemy?"

"Lu Bu has not returned," the giant confirmed. "But neither has he assaulted the walls. You speak to me, Archer, is he a man who will watch a war, or dive into it." The red-cloaked bowman shrugged, the answer obvious.

"Umu, then we should take the time to dance and drink," the woman cheered again. "I may perform for the people! Better than huddling in the Basilica and glorifying a cross."

"They pray for salvation, and I pray with them," he stood over her, easily twice her head, and thrice her width. "You dance upon the alter, and I will consider Archer's words no longer an insult, but filled with wisdom."

She only pouted again, flipping golden hair and spinning on her heel.

"Very well, let them chant to empty halls. I shall fine the wine and enjoy what Rome has left."

"Rome has much remaining." The tanned man spoke again. He lifted his lance from the ground as he spoke, and the tree that grew between them withered with it. "But it must take more. We cannot allow those that hate Rome to destroy it. Rome must take all, for all will be Rome!"

"Umu! I agree!" She cheered with the man. "Then let us take time to make merry with the fruits or Rome's greatness!"

The giant watched the pair walk away, a berth in the ground given to them. He sighed, annoyed and loathful of their temperament. Such feelings showed nothing on his face. Instead, he faced the Archer, prepared for a speech as well.

He only found the man already departing, walking towards the little foliage that existed within the walls, hands at his back, content with little and allowing the conflict around to wash over him.

The giant sighed, deeply.

"Soon oh Lord," the giant whispered. "Before the Servants of the most hated one break the last walls of your city. Before then, please return oh Lord." He looked to a blue sky above, adoring the ease with which it shown peace upon a brutal land. "Return and deliver us, oh Lord."

Around him, the people prayed.

Author's Note: So we begin again.

I understand the feeling people have towards this story, and have put a forward at the beginning of the fic to address there what I am here.

Many complaints about Ritsuka seem to be about his fanaticism, as described, for God. I know he is all about God, and I did my best to emphasize this was because he really only knew God. No schooling, no parents, nothing but churches taking him in and helping to raise him. I'm sorry to educate you, but you're not going to grow up wishing for Islam if a sister and father feed, teach, and love you. To say he's less of a character is odd, as I've seen he's both too vehement and too much of a doormat. Not sure how I did both with him, but I was trying to show he's pretty loose with what is happening around him, but will not let ill be spoken of God.

For saying that I am recategorizing the older myths? I confess, I am. That's what they are, myths. Legends and stories that were made up either in spite or without God. But all of them converted to Catholicism. From Rome to Iceland. Don't forget either that the ten plagues of Egypt were not just random things. They were plagues showing God 'killing' the Gods of Egypt. The Nile was Red with blood after all.

For those who are still giving this a try, I thank you. I can also say this arc is where the most change in Ritsuka happens. While I have outright said now that Olga is educating him, he's not going to be lenient to all things around him. Also, Jesus will educate him on the right and wrong way to defend him. I confess there are wrong ways to defend Jesus, and Ritsuka may have done that to a few of you in the reviews.

Ritsuka is the protagonist, he is faithful to Jesus, but all who recognize Jesus recognize themselves as Sinners. We follow him because we may only be saved through him. So, by definition, he is NOT perfect. If his flaws bother you, I am sorry to hear it, but I hope it isn't that they are being celebrated. Rather, he is constantly being told what he doesn't know.

That all said, I hope what comes next will be enjoyable. I did change Septem because… Septem was bad. This way, there is a LOT more to tell. I hope you like it!