With the freakishly uncanny frequency by which Chaldea is forced to deal with unexpected situations, peaceful days are a rarity to be savored.
That's not to say that all the personnel and Servants must participate in every operation. Only the Final Master of Humanity must be sent on every mission, though there isn't a single person within Chaldea who didn't wish otherwise. The young mage's mental and physical health is constantly and closely monitored but a Master needs to be present to provide Mana for and support the Servants. Because of this, and how fond all the Servants are of their shared Master, rules and agreements have been established to reduce the number of incidents that could deprive the overworked Master of the moments of rest that do so scarcely come around.
Making Servants unable to participate in operations is forbidden. With the wide range of problems and threats that can manifest in Singularities and Lostbelts, the criteria of who can and can't be sent on a mission can be limited.
Using Ascensions and Spitiron Dresses that make a Servant a danger to those around them is forbidden. It's better to reduce the potential problems that can come from problematic and/or inhuman or alien thought processes and interpretations.
Fighting between Servants is forbidden within the facility. While non-violent means of conflict resolution are preferred, if two or more Servants can not resolve a matter with words, they must take their disagreement to the Simulator.
And as she sat in her room as Chaldea's mobile base/assault vehicle flew over the Bleanched Earth to avoid the gaze of the Foreign God, one of the more recent and more unusual additions to the Servant roster gazed out her window. Once a queen who ruled a nation of faeries for two thousand years, such memories should not have been recorded in the Throne of Heroes. Even sealed deep within her Spirit Origin was the regalia she wore as the High Queen, an elegant and beautiful dress of black and blue with gold patterns and accents. With the black veil that draped from the tall, ebony crown decorated with blue spikes atop her head, almost every inch of her flawless, pale skin was concealed. However, even with her features partially obscured, her face wasn't a foreign one to Chaldea. She bore a striking resemblance to several other Servants and their Alters despite being a historic figure separate from all of them… save one.
For the Fae Knights who served under me during my reign, the only unusual part of their summoning was that Chadlea was able to summon them at all. Faerie Britain's versions of Gawain, Tristan, and Lancelot never existed in Proper Human History, I simply gifted them those knights' names. So for them to manifest with their memories makes sense.When left to herself to contemplate and think, the mystery of why she had manifested as she did frequently occupied her thoughts.I, however, did have a counterpart in Proper Human History, and a famous one with connections to Artoria and her knights who already reside in Chaldea.
Being one of the first Servants summoned to Chaldea, and the first of the famed Knights of the Round Table, until her, every Servant summoned based on Arthurian myth was the version of themselves from Proper Human History.
Stranger still are the other Servants summoned who manifested in my Faerie Britain whom Chaldea had no interactions with previously. Habetrot appears to be the version of herself that would have existed in Proper Human History.Her apathetic visage darkening slightly, what she thought would have been another unexpected reunion with an old friend had been taken from her. Though the petite bride-making faerie was, at her core, the same faerie she ventured with before becoming Faerie Britain's High Queen, she shared none of the memories. That, however, didn't prevent her from forging a new friendship with the self-destructive Rider.The Percival who helped Chaldea was a human born and raised in the Lostbelt who shared his name and likeness. Unlike Gareth, Chaldea had never encountered him before, and yet it was the Percival from Artoria's court who was summoned.
Like her, one of her former Fae Knights had been excited to see a familiar face in Chaldea, one she thought of as family, only to be given a grim reminder that the man she saw as a younger brother was gone forever.
Other than my successor, the only Servant in a similar position to me would be Oberon, a Servant from Proper Human History mixing with a resident of Faerie Britain. Though our cases were the reverse of the other… We are the only two with memories of ourselves from both histories.Unlike the first Pretender to be summoned by Chaldea, she did not fuse with and take the body of the only Rogue Servant capable of manifesting in a Lostbelt devoid of human legend and myth. She received the memories of her Proper Human History counterpart who had been summoned by the Crypter, Beryl Gut.Given how much time my Husband spent with Oberon during his time in Faerie Britain, it makes sense that he would be able to summon him if he could also summon Barghest, Baobhan Sith, and Melusine. I, however, only met him twice, I believe, and neither instance was a protracted interaction like my journey with Mash… Then again, the same could be said for the other Lostbelt Kings. Other than the mechanical gods of Olympus, my Husband has summoned all the versions of Heroic Spirits that should not exist in Proper Human History.
There was no pattern that she could concretely discern even with all the information she had acquired. All she could do was ruminate on the circumstances and attempt to come to a more satisfying conclusion during the rare moments she had to herself. The better she understood how she and her court manifested in Chaldea, the more likely she could devise a way to etch their existences on Proper Human History and stay with her Master.
Once these trivial matters are resolved, Proper Human History only stands to gain from my Knights and I remain to protect them. Barghest is a strong and loyal knight, and serving under my Husband appears to be enough to keep her voracious instincts at bay. While I'd prefer her not devour him, I am prepared for that eventuality.With her mastery of Magecraft and cautious nature, casting a protective charm on the young mage who denied her cosmos was one of the first things she had done. Oddly enough, some of the other Casters seemed to have similar thoughts to her, as the opinion of wishing to devour their shared Master was concerningly more common than expected.Otherwise, both she and Melusine get along with the other Servants. My greatest concern, then, would be Baobhan Sith…
Unlike the chivalrous Demon Hound or the socially inept 'dragon fae', most of the friction that caused conflict between the red-haired vampiric fae and other Servants was due to her own standoffish nature. However, for all the girl's faults, she couldn't bring herself to be too harsh or abandon her. In Faerie Britain, she spoiled her, took her as her own daughter, and overlooked the evils and atrocities she committed. It was all she could do to try and give Baobhan Sith a happy, safe life after the girl had saved her from drowning in despair, even after generations of incarnating after death.
If only she could settle down and behave a bit more.Sighing as she pictured the pure-hearted, childishly sadistic faerie's face stained with tears and scrunched up crying after breaking something, or someone, she was playing with. Her Proper Human History counterpart had two children of her own who were in Chaldea, as well as a well-made homunculus, but she was unable to see them as hers. A part of her heart was gladdened to see them grown into proper knights, but she only had one daughter. While there are some Servants who are patient with her, and others who are a poor influence on her, she's causing the least trouble when she's–
"Mother~!" Barging into the room and disrupting her thoughts, the ashen-skinned redhead faerie merrily rushed over to her. "It doesn't seem like anything interesting will be happening today, so I was hoping we could have some tea together~"
Looking at her adopted daughter, the blue-eyed beauty smiled softly and nodded. "It seems I've allowed myself to get lost in my thoughts for too long and nearly wasted the day. Some tea sounds lovely, Baobhan Sith."
"Really!? Awesome~! This will be great!" Hopping up and down, the Archer's smile only widened further. "Oh, what blend would you like? We'll have to get snacks that pair well with them, and there are so many options to choose from."
Ruminating on the question for a moment, the Berserker smirked as she noticed how her daughter was dressed. Not in the finery of red and white frills she so often dons to emulate an aura of innocence, but her revealing, formfitting attire that bares most of her flawless flesh without a hint of embarrassment. It was no attire the princess of Faerie Britain should wear, much less to prance about where others could see her, but unlike the pretty red dress, it perfectly reflected her true nature. Beautiful and dangerous, a fae with the appearance of a human, but unable to completely conceal what she was. Mischief, pure and uninhibited with concern or restraint.
And her daughter's mischievous nature, paired with how peaceful and uneventful the day was, inspired a mischievous idea of her own. "Actually, Baobhan Sith, would you mind if I extended an invitation to some special guests? We can make this into an intimate, family tea party."
It had been commonly believed that Heroic Spirits recorded in the Throne of Heroes could manifest in variations of themselves depending on certain circumstances. As a general rule, Servants are summoned in a body that represents the prime of their legends, a class that best aligns with their skill set, and all the memories contained in the Throne. However, within Chaldea, the validity of such rules is tested with surprising frequency. Whether it is Servants altering their Spirit Origin to unlock new Saint Graphs, or summoning younger or older versions of a Servant than what is more commonly depicted in their legends, it is a constant reminder that the so-called 'rules' around Servants are simply humanities best attempt to make sense of something they sorely lack information on.
With independent manifestations of the same Servant being less common than one being able to change their class, there is one Heroic Spirit who stands above all others in both regards. The famed King of Knight, Arthur Pendragon, or rather, Artoria Pendragon. While a male version of King Arthur from a parallel timeline has taken up residency among the Servant roster, the King Arthur recorded in the Throne of their timeline was one who hid her gender. She was also one of the first Servants to prove that multiple, independent versions of the same Heroic Spirit could manifest simultaneously.
Initially only matched in simultaneous instances with the Celtic Child of Light, as of overcoming the challenges of their sixth Lostbelt, Chaldea welcomed their ninth variation of Artoria into their ranks. While some Servants tend to avoid their other independent manifestations for various personal reasons, others get along with their variations amicably. Most of the Artorias tend to take a neutral stance towards themselves, most often only interacting with one or two of the other Artorias at a time. Like all the Servants contracted under their Master, they can cooperate and coordinate with each other in combat, but it is a rare sight to see more than two Artorias together at a given time.
Which is why eight of the blonde-haired girls and women moving together as a group seemed so unnatural. The atmosphere about some of them was tense and slightly hostile, though none were in their combat-ready forms. Broadly speaking, the body an Artoria manifested in heavily reflected whether she used her Sacred Sword or Sacred Lance more. Because Caliburn and Excalibur prevented her body from aging, most of her variants, regardless of age and experience, shared the same height, weight, and physical development. The three that primarily wielded Rhongomyniad developed into tall, busty, beautiful, unmistakably feminine bodies.
"Remember to keep your guard up. Morgan is far more cunning than you can imagine." Looking at the three versions of herself from an alternative universe known as the 'Servantverse', the Saber in a blue combat dress attempted to stress the importance of not underestimating her half-sister. Though she didn't interact with them much too often, she was aware that they seemingly had no experience with their universes Morgan. "We've already agreed to a pact of non-aggression for Master's sake. I see no reason for her to invite us to tea so suddenly."
"Well, she's not a Saber so I'm willing to give her a chance." The Assassin in a blue tracksuit jacket and short black shorts said dismissively. "That said, something about her makes my Spirit Origin unsettled."
"I know what you mean! She hasn't broken any Galactic laws, but every time I see her, I feel the urge to arrest her." Agreeing with her direct younger self, the bikini-clad Galactic police officer placed a hand over her moderately developed chest. While her body hadn't matured as much as the two Lancer Artorias', she handedly outclassed the other Sacred Sword Artorias.
"It would be safer to have her locked up. Master is just too kind for his own good." Rolling her eyes at the other Artorias' naivete, the paler, amber-eyed Saber Alter sighed as she shrugged her shoulders. As much as she'd rather greet Morgan in her armor and corrupted holy sword in hand, she would give her half-sister the honor of attending in her formal dress either. The black tank top under a zip-up hoodie and black shorts she wore was more than enough.
Unlike their Lancer 'counterparts', she and the blue Saber Artoria generally didn't associate with each other. Their fundamental views were as opposed as they were aligned, but when it came to Morgan, their opinions were perfectly synchronized. None of the other Artorias had memories they could call their own that dealt with their manipulative half-sister, and the Lancers were more Divine Spirit than human, having less of an emotional investment.
"By that logic, we Alters should also be locked up then." The pale-skinned, amber-eyed Lancer in a formfitting, black body suit countered. "Besides, she has more than 5000 years worth of memories from Faerie Britain as well. Do not let your personal emotions cloud your opinion of this Morgan."
"We understand blindly trusting Morgan is not wise, but casting undue doubt is just as foolish." The other Lancer donning a red cape that covered much of the blue, skin-tight body suit she wore agreed. "She merely invited us to tea."
"And other than when she tried to get Master to dismiss his contract with all the Berserkers, I have no problem with her." Without a shred of doubt in her mind, the amber-eyed Berserker in a school uniform, heavy jacket, and red plaid scarf was beaming an excited smile, wiping a bit of drool from the corner of her mouth. "I wonder what kinds of sweets she'll serve!"
As the group closed in on the room where Morgan invited them, both the Saber Artorias glanced at each other and let out a weary sigh. They were the only ones who knew and remembered how dangerous Morgan le Fey truly was.
"N-Now, now… I d-don't have the fondest of memories of High Queen Morgan myself, but this is Chaldea. She can't start a fight with us for no reason." Less confident to be in the company of her Proper Human History and Servantverse counterparts, the Artoria hailing from the sixth Lostbelt tried to mediate between them.
Like the Sabers, she too wanted to attend the tea party in her combat-ready form, Artoria Avalon but refrained from doing so to remain amicable. Instead, she wore her second-best outfit, the short white dress with long sleeves and a blue mantle that she received prior to an important battle in Faerie Britain's Gloucester.
While she didn't have the same personal connection to Morgan that the Saber Artorias did, she had spent sixteen years hiding from the tyrannical High Queen before rebelling against her. "Since we're both Faeries of Avalon, she knows she can't lie to my Fae Eyes, and we all have Skills that offer some form of increased Magic Resistance. She might be strong, but not even she could mess with all of us at once."
The reassurance of another Artoria at least voicing reason as to why she wasn't as doubtful of Morgan seemed to help relax the two Sabers a bit. Having a pair of Fae Eyes on their side would make it easy to see through any nefarious plots their half-sister might be trying to hide.
As the group arrived at the door though, the Assassin and Foreigner Artorias looked at each other as what their Caster counterpart registered to them. "Hey, wait a second! We don't have any Skills like that!" They said in unison, realizing they had no passive protections from spells being cast on them.
"O-Oh… right. W-Well… you still have us, right?" Smiling meekly at the two, the Caster had no words of reassurance for them as the Berserker Artoria knocked on the door.
Since being summoned to Chaldea, Morgan has hosted many tea parties. She mainly played hostess for her Fae Knights, Habetrot, or her Husband, but there were other amicable Servants outside of those from Artoria's court she enjoyed the company of. As such, getting everything ready was a trivial task for her, but given who she was hosting, she had to do her best to not put her half-sister on edge. Most Artorias have access to skills like Instinct that would tip them off if something was amiss, and her successor Faerie of Paradise's Fae Eyes were no less potent as her own.
Of course, few knew her half-sister better than she did. The Morgan le Fey of Proper Human History obsessed over Artoria and knew of the steps necessary to create circumstances to bypass the King of Knight's instincts. Getting them to relax their guards for a simple tea party would be no challenge.
"Mother, they're here~" Before the rapping of knuckles against metal could announce the arrival of their guest, the redheaded faerie had heard the numerous footsteps approach and stop before their door.
"It would appear so. Let us greet them, Baobhan Sith." Finishing placing out the confections and condiments to go with them, Morgan smiled as she and her daughter stood in front of the door as the party that arrived knocked. As the door opened, she and Baobhan Sith bowed politely. "Welcome, my sisters. Please, come in and sit where you like. I hope you do not mind, but Baobhan Sith said she wished to join us today."
Only the two Sabers and Caster seemed to have reservations about the Archer's presence, while the Lancers and Servantverse Artorias accepted Morgan's greeting. However, they all did enter her room without making a fuss.
Much to her and the Lostbelt Faerie's delight.
Step 2: Complete.
W-Well… nothing seems out of the ordinary yet…Shifting in her seat uncomfortably, under the elated gaze of the violet-eyed Archer, the self-conscious Caster did her best to remain vigilant.
The Servantverse Artorias had been drawn in and lowered their guards completely with the offer of free food while the tea was prepared. The sweets-obsessed Berserker in particular was happily munching away at the cookies and macarons, layering generous portions of jams onto crackers and scones, and seemed otherwise oblivious to anything else. However, she looked so happy and content, she couldn't bring herself to ruin her fun.
There doesn't appear to be any strange magic mixed in with the food… I wish I could just enjoy myself like she is.Mentally sighing as her eyes drafted back to the unnervingly smiling Baobhan Sith, the biggest problem was that the vampiric faerie was sadistic and malicious, but honest and innocent by default. From the first time she met her, Boabhan Sith never hid her intentions or minced words. That frank honesty was oddly refreshing in Faerie Britain where everyone was duplicitous and only cared for themselves. Tori-ko wanting to torture and torment me is nothing new, and Queen Morgan has always had animosity towards the Saber Artorias… but I'm not sensing as much ill will from them today.As she nibbled at a cookie and waited for the tea to be served, the blonde faerie's eyes were not warning her of anything she wasn't already aware of either. The biggest red flag was that the tea party was being hosted in Morgan's Magecraft Workshop, but even that wasn't unreasonable. Any Servant who practiced Magecraft converted their rooms into Workshops, aside from Da Vinci who received her own space for one, and she was no exception.In fact, they both seem to be genuinely happy that we came.
Looking at her other selves, the two Sabers were as reserved as she was, only taking token bites of the food so as not to be rude, but were keeping an eye on Morgan. The Lancers were conducting themselves more appropriately, engaging Morgan in conversation, indulging in the food in moderation, and not treating the white-haired Berserker with suspicion.
It wasn't a hostile atmosphere but it was tense, like carrying barrels of gunpowder through an active smithy. In a way, it reminded her of her life in Faerie Britain: unpleasant but tolerable. Though she came of her own free will, she was hoping the tea would be served soon so they could leave.
As usual, these more physically matured Artoria are not as irritating to converse with as the ones who wield the sacred sword.As they waited for the water to draw out the mellow flavors of the blend of leaves and spices she selected, Morgan wasn't ignorant of the glares from the two Sabers. She also found the meeker Caster's timid cautious and anxiety humorous. They were the only ones who were so blatantly displaying their want to end things as quickly as possible.If they were anyone else, seeing such distrust may even have wounded me, but this is all to be expected. However, it is too late for you to regret your actions, sisters.
As the timer went off, Morgan prepared and poured tea for her guests.
"This is an original blend I have been working on. It should compliment your tastes, Artoria." Once everyone was served, Morgan noticed that even the more amicable Artorias hesitated to accept her hospitality. Not an entirely undeserving reaction.She and Baobhan Sith were the first to drink. They were all served from the same pot, and she waited for her guests to arrive to begin preparing it because she knew they would be suspicious of it.
The gesture was enough to get the others to drink, the less suspicious one savoring and mellow flavor profile of the brew while the Sabers and Caster took little more than a sip. But a sip was all Morgan needed them to take.
Step 4: Complete. Now the true fun can begin.Smirking as she reclined in her seat, Morgan maintained her composure as she continued to enjoy her tea. On its own, there was only one component missing that would round out the combination of flavors, but it wasn't time yet to add the final ingredient. She just needed to buy a bit more time. "Now that refreshments have been served, I believe we can get straight to the reason I invited you all here today. No doubt your Instincts have made you question why I would extend invitations to you so suddenly, yes?"
The budding pleasant atmosphere that began to form once the tea was served vanished as guards were raised and unspoken suspicions were verified. Not among the Servantverse Artorias. They continued to enjoy her hospitality without reservation. To the others, however, the tea party was now confirmed to be an excuse to get them all in one place for some other scheme. It had been over a year since their shared Master summoned Morgan, and of all the tea parties she had hosted, not once could any of them remember so much as receiving an invitation.
"What are you scheming this time, Morgan? There is no Britain for you to rule here." The blue Saber said sternly as she narrowed her eyes.
"Ruling a mere kingdom when the Foreign God has bleached the planet? Is that truly a concern at this juncture, Artoria? No, what I wish to speak about is of far greater importance." Morgan replied, calmly taking measured sips of her tea.
"There is something more important to you than ruling Britain?" Scoffing at the idea, the Saber in black rolled her eyes. "Forgive me if I find that hard to believe."
"Britain has long since fallen, Artoria. While I'll not deny my Proper Human History self's role in its downfall, would it be accurate to place all the blame on her?"
Her carefully calculated counter deflating the two Sabers, they were the only ones at the table with clear memories of how 'King Arthur' ruled Britain. They were acutely aware of how the people viewed their rule.
"Then what, pray tell, is more important to you now, Morgan?" Continuing the conversation while the Sabers contemplated their shortcomings in life, the blue Lancer Artoria cut straight to the heart of the matter.
Setting down her cup, Morgan leveled a serious stare at her sisters. "Your roles in relation to myself and my Husband, of course."
For the first time since she had been summoned, even the Artorias more vocally hostile towards the former queen were speechless, and all past grudges were forgotten. Instead, a more heated and viciously contested debate followed as, like so many of the other Servants in Chaldea, the relationship they individually shared with their Master could even supersede hostilities and rivalries from their myths and legends. Valentine's Day was one of the most chaotic and competitive days of the year, and that's not including the annual fiascos that accompanied the holiday for some reason or another.
However, unlike their opinions of their half-sister, the Proper Human History Artorias and the normally timid Caster from Faerie Britain's attitudes were almost completely flipped. Having the deepest 'measurable' bond with their Master, the Caster's brash and more crash mannerisms surfaced as she defended her spot as the top Artoria. The mature and regal Lancers seemingly reverted to purer, inexperienced maidens, not outright denying their affections for the young mage, but unable to commit to their feelings either. And the Sabers were split. The blue Saber was more in line with the Lancers while the black Saber was about as vocal and assured of her claim on their Master as the outspoken Caster.
Other than a shared plan to abduct, or rather 'invite' the last Master of Humanity back to their universe, the Servantverse Artorias kept themselves out of the conversation. Once they were home, they could decide who got to look after him.
Morgan and Baobhan Sith sat back as the Artorias began to argue among themselves over who would be what to their Master, calmly indulging in sweets and exchanging grins and smirks. Whatever conclusion the Artorias came to didn't matter, all that Morgan needed was a bit more time to pass.
And just as the threshold of her plans came to pass, Morgan held up a hand and cleared her throat to get her sisters' attention. "Now, now, settle down, Artoria. There's no use discussing the roles my Husband has already assigned us." She said, motioning to herself, and the blue Artorias. "Buster, AOE farmers. Though, it would seem my Husband prefers to rely solely on me rather than you two lately."
Unable to hide the smug satisfaction she found, the deployment records didn't lie. Since she arrived in Chaldea, most of the Buster AOE Servants saw less deployment, not just those two, but she loved rubbing it into her sisters' faces.
Pointing to the Caster, however, she sighed as facts turned against her. "Arts looping enabler."
Seeing the most deployment not just of the Artorias, but arguable all Servants, she couldn't deny that her successor excelled in her field of expertise. Though she could do without the smug grin on the Caster's face.
"Throwbacks to a time when my Husband was forced to rely on Kaleidoscopes to farm efficiently."
Swiftly moving on the the Saber and Lancer in black, even multiple strengthenings since they were summoned didn't increase their deployment rates.
"The glorified lumberjack. The stray that didn't go home. And the…"
With less to say about the Foreigner who was typically only sent out to cut down the Trees of Emptiness in each Lostbelt or the Assassin with a vendetta against Servants who shared a likeness to Artoria, there wasn't something as unique to call the Berserker out on. Artorias were notorious bottomless pits, so her voracious appetite for sweets wasn't anything new, and she mostly kept to herself.
"...well, the point is, regardless of what you say, my Husband has roles assigned to you all already. And while I'll not repeat the mistake of suggesting he dismiss any of his Servants again…" Trailing off for a moment as the trauma of her greatest mistake since being summoned replayed in her mind, Morgan recollected herself and continued. "It's only proper that you serve your Master's spouse just as faithfully, no? And what I desire most from you, my sisters is," pausing for a moment just as all the preparations she had set him fell into place, with perfect dramatic timing, all the Artorias instantly shrunk to various sizes and fell onto the table in unison. "Entertainment."
Looming over the gathered group of Artoria, all the shrunken blondes stared up at her in shock and terror… except for the gluttonous Berserker who was more surprised that all the treats on her saucer were now many times bigger than before. Unlike the others who either were too confused to act or shouting up at her with demands to be returned to their normal heights, the Servantverse Alter leaped up onto her plate and indulged in a supersized cookie.
Breaking her uncharacteristic silence once the trap was sprung, Baobhan Sith cackled wickedly as she looked down her nose at her half-aunts, and the Caster who humiliated her in Faerie Britain in particular. "Ahahahaha! Wow~! I didn't think my Aunties were all so gullible and stupid, but then again, this was a collaborative effort between me and Mother. Maybe I should cut you some slack." Drowning out their tiny voices, the sadistic faerie locked her pale, violet eyes on the only Artoria she had a personal relationship with, and her devilish grin grew even more. The confused and panicked look on the ignorant faerie's face was priceless. "You really didn't notice anything, did you? So much for your pathetic excuse of Magecraft. Well, the subliminal hypnosis embedded in those invitations was only strong enough to get you to accept coming here in secret anyway. None of you told anyone you were coming to have tea with Mother, right?"
Though the Artorias didn't care for the condescending tone of the cruel, spoiled Archer, she was giving them the answers they wanted as she gloated. Just taking a moment to think about it, getting a couple of them to accept the invitation to tea was feasible, but getting all of them to agree at the same time was highly improbable. The Sabers were too distrustful of their half-sister, the Lancers were more detached, and even the Servantverse Artorias had their reservations about her. Yet, they all came, and just as Baobhan Sith stated, they told nobody that they were coming and took measures to ensure nobody followed or noticed them.
"And, like, sure, this is Mother's room, but what sort of idiots walk into another mage's Workshop like that?" Chastising the shrunken Servants, Baobhan Sith's disappointment was overshadowed by mocking glee, given that they all but served themselves up on a silver platter to them. "You didn't even notice the buff Mother cast on the treats to enhance their flavors. Of course, it included a demerit that made it so spells and curses would bypass your Magic Resistances. It was still a buff though, so all it took was you drinking the cursed tea Mother prepared and, well, you can see." Reaching forward and grabbing the stupefied Caster, she brought the tiny faerie before her face and grinned maliciously at her. "There's no way a wannabe, backwater, country bumpkin mage could hope to contend with Mother. She's the Morgan le Fey, the one and only High Queen of Faerie Britain."
As her daughter continued to gloat and cackle victoriously, Morgan retained a more dignified air of superiority. Despite the limited precautions the Artorias took, they all shrunk, though to varying degrees. The more suspicious Artorias who had little of the snacks and tea, the Sabers and Caster, were roughly one-tenth their heights. The Lancers were a bit smaller than them, barely bigger than her palms as they ingested more of the enchanted treats and cursed tea. Had they not engaged her in conversation, they may well have shrunken more, like the Servantverse Artorias who were all less than half the size of her thumb.
"I knew you were up to something, Morgan, but don't think this will end favorably for you!" Standing her ground with the irritatingly boundless courage that saw her through countless battles, the blue Saber glared up at her with her black counterpart and the two Lancers and Foreigner backing her up.
Out of the corner of her eye, Morgan saw her daughter had pinned the bewildered Caster under one hand while she used her other to 'chase' the Assassin Artoria around the table. 'Walking' her hand across the tabletop, each of the Archer's long, slender fingers was multiple times taller than the careless, anti-Saber Servant. Much like a cat toying with a mouse, she'd jab her long, perfectly manicured nails into the smaller girl's back and legs, tripping her up but not piercing her skin, giggling innocently all the while.
"Master won't let you keep up like this forever." The swimsuited Foreigner said, drawing the Berserker's wandering attention back to the defiant group.
"And once we're back to normal…" The Altered Saber added, glaring at her with an intense hatred.
However, rather than be intimidated by their threats, Morgan shrugged and dispassionately reached across the table to retrieve the plate the sweets-obsessed Berserker was on. Placing it on the opposite side of her to her playful daughter, Morgan lowered her gaze onto the assembled Artorias and smirked smugly. "If you still feel the same way once this is over, you're free to seek retribution. Just remember to follow the rules."
Almost more than putting her nemesis into such a compromising position, that was what was so satisfying about this scheme. She broke none of the rules around Servant-on-Servant conflict resolution. At least, none that could be proven.
And the Artorias knew it.
Instead of surrendering and letting Morgan have her way, or wasting time trying to convince her to change them back, the miniature Servants turned and ran, looking for any opportunity to escape.
Seeing so many versions of her half-sister helpless and fleeing from her made Morgan's heart flutter and color her paler cheeks a beautiful shade of crimson. However, she wouldn't let any of them get away, and seeing how much fun her daughter was having, she decided it was time for her to indulge as well.
Plucking the smallest Artoria not occupied at the moment off the table before she could get too far, the Berserker dropped the tiny Foreigner into her tea cup. She had emptied it enough that the Galactic Police officer couldn't reach the lip and casually used her spoon to stir the tiny girl around to evenly spread her flavor in the tea. Taking another sip of her tea, the final missing ingredient to bring out the full palate of the brew made her victory all the sweeter. "Mmmm… You pair with this blend so well, Artoria. Even if you are from a different universe, I suppose you truly are related to my sister."
Setting the cup down to let the delicious Foreign wallow in defeat, she reached for a cookie only to hesitate as her hand hovered over the other Berserker. While she was still an Artoria, she shared many traits with her Proper Human History's creation, the illegitimate heir of Artoria and her. Passing over the anti-Saber Berserker, she instead grabbed a macaron and let the girl gorge herself.
"Ahahaha! Come on, come on~ You'll have to run faster than that to get away~!" Seeing Baobhan Sith continue to playfully torment the anti-Saber Assassin, Morgan shook her head seeing how exhausted the tiny blonde was. "Why are you slowing down? Do you want to get impaled on my nails? Well, that might be fun too."
Before the sadistic faerie could carry out her promise, Morgan quickly grabbed one of the Lancers trailing behind the retreating Sabers and held her up to her daughter. "Now, now, Baobhan Sith. You mustn't only play with your food. Here."
Seeing Morgan dangled the dark-clad Lancer before her, the redheaded girl's violet eyes lit up as nodded. "O-Of course! Thank you, Mother." Slurping up the struggling Alter's legs, it was a bit awkward fitting the more mature woman into her mouth but it was only her size that made it difficult. With just her tongue, she was able to easily toss her half-aunt around her oral cavity for a few seconds before tilting her head back and forcefully swallowing. It took a couple attempts to get the busty Lancer into an appropriate position, but as soon as her gullet got ahold of one of her limbs, a wiggling bulge traveled down Baobhan Sith's neck. As the Alter Lancer vanished behind her collarbone, the cruel faerie giggled and patted her belly. "Ahaha~! That's right. Squirm harder, Aunty. It feels good to have you in my belly. Try not to digest too quickly, okay?" Exhaling a content sigh, she saw the other Lancer still trying to get away out of the corner of her eye and saw an opportunity. Snatching the blue-clad, busty Artoria up, she held her out towards her mother, blushing adorably. "H-Here, Mother. You always make the most delicious tea treats, i-it'd be a shame if you didn't get any."
Licking her lips, Morgan smiled at her considerate daughter, reaching out to stroke her cheek. "Thank you, Baobhan Sith." Leaning in, she expertly drew the full-figured, miniature woman into her mouth, but unlike her daughter, the devious Berserker swallowed the Lancer in the same motion.
Brushing the slender fingertips of the Archer as she fully consumed her treat, Mogan sat back up in her seat and glided her fingers along her neck as a version of her half-sister was sent to her waiting stomach. The tension in her throat as the bustier Artoria stretched her esophagus was a pleasant sensation, if not slightly painful. Before the richer flavor of the older Artoria could be diluted by her saliva, Morgan picked up her teacup and finished off the contents, Foreigner and all. Despite the valiant struggle the swimsuit-clad Artoria mounted to remain in her cup, it was ultimately futile. She didn't get to decide how long she remained in her cup. Each version of her sister altered the bouquet of the tea she crafted. Mixing two or more resulted in a delightful harmony of flavors too, rather than a tasteless clash.
Imitating her mother, Baobhan Sith tossed the younger version of the Servantverse police officer into her cup and quickly poured it into her mouth. Like the Lancer before, she didn't send the struggling Assassin down to her waiting stomach right away. "Ahahaha! As yummy as ever. Mother makes the best tea. But you'd better watch out, younger Aunty. My big, bad teeth will tear you to shred and grind you to mush if you're not careful~" Snickering playfully, she slammed her teeth together a few times to menace the powerless Artoria. "That's it! Roll away from my teeth. Ahahaha~ I wish we could play like this more often, Aunty."
Seeing how much fun her daughter was having with one Artoria, Morgan smirked and turned her face towards hers. "Here, you can have this Artoria too." Caughting the Archer off-guard, Morgan leaned in and pressed her lips to her daughters, passing the exhausted Servant between them before sitting back up. Her bit of bold playfulness left Baobhan Sith in a shocked and elated stupor, as she stared vacantly at the ceiling and swallowed the two Artorias absentmindedly.
While their treats would eventually sustain enough damage to vanish and reconstitute back in Chaldea later, they would leave behind a sizeable amount of mana in the process. Servants were highly dense concentrations of mana, so there was no better meal for them. And while neither Servants nor faeries needed to sustain themselves with food, being able to provide satisfying meals for her daughter filled her with a sense of accomplishment. All the more so when the 'food' was an Artoria.
However, with their guests quickly dwindling, their tea party would soon have to come to an end. Just my sisters, my successor, and…Turning her gaze back to the shrunken Berserker, it was impressive how little she cared about what was going on around her. Does she not notice that she's become part of the treats for my and Baobhan Sith's enjoyment, or is that unique Instinct skill to blame? There's no escape, so she'd rather enjoy herself while she still can.Picking up the half-eaten cookie that the artificial Alter refused to relinquish, Mogan's eyes softened ever so slightly as she opened wide and consumed the treat, Servant and all, in one bite. Well, whichever it is, she's still an Artoria and tastes divine.Savoring the taste of her fellow Berserker, Morgan carefully chewed around her before swallowing her whole.
Once the little bundle of condensed magical energy was in her stomach along with the larger, heftier Lancer, Morgan looked to the other side of the table where both the Sabers were standing. While they had more than long enough to have jumped down to the floor and attempt to run or hide, they were paralyzed by inaction. Inaction that she would happily capitalize on as she reached over and grabbed them both.
"I was looking forward to crushing at least one of you underfoot had you jumped to the floor, though I'm sure you sensed my intention. Those Instinct skills are such a nuisance." Easily restraining the two with one hand each, while she didn't get to have the fun she was anticipating, like any good ruler, she had backup plans. "Well, you always did have the better Luck, so it just wasn't meant to be this time. Pity."
Struggling in vain to escape her captor, the blue-dressed Saber glared at her manipulative sister. "E-Enjoy your victory while you can, Morgan, but mark my words. You'll rue this day!"
Despite the strong forces Artoria could bring to bear against her, Morgan was unfazed by the threat, rolling her eyes and shrugging. "That remains to be seen, and I highly doubt it. However, if you insist on becoming a pain in my rear in the future, Artoria, then I'll just have you make it up to me now." Standing, Morgan's condescending smirk returned as she focused on the Artoria more in line with her memories from Proper Human History.
Taking advantage of the conveniences of a Servant's body and clothing being manifestations of pure ether, she willed her undergarments to vanish as she brought her half-sister under her dress. While she could have dismissed her entire regalia just as easily, even if the only other one in the room was her daughter, she still had to conduct herself with a certain level of dignity.
But dignity was the last thing she would treat the blue Saber with as she held her in the shadow of her shapely, firm buttock.
For as deviant and twisted as such an action would be, it didn't take a Clairvoyance skill for the shrunken King of Knights to predict what her sister had planned for her. "Y-You cur! Morgan, cease this nonsense at once–!" Her protests ignored, Artoria's face was buried into her archnemesis' backside.
"Yes, just like that, Artoria. I can think of no better use for a filthy usurper who thought she was worthy of sitting on my throne." Smiling wickedly as she continued to push the struggling Saber deeper, twisting her to pry open the tightly sealed orifice that led into her body, Morgan didn't hesitate. "Th-That's it, Artoria. Come d-deeper. Accept your p-punishment." Blushing as the warmth and pleasure of humiliating her sister spread through her from her rear, the regal Berserker slowed her pace simply to enjoy herself for just a few moments longer.
Watching on with a morbid fascination, the Altered Saber was as appalled as she was jealous. While she wasn't shown the fate transpiring to her other self, it was easy to imagine, and as she envisioned it, she was inspired but the cruel, humiliating act. "I know a certain Mad Dog who could do with being put in her place like that."
"As t-tempting… as it is to g-gift you to her…" As she slipped the last parts of the squirming Saber into her bowels, Morgan relished the sensation of her intestinal walls squeezing around such a large, warm toy. Despite having a more streamlined, undeveloped body, she felt her anus stretch and tighten over all the subtle dips and curves of the famed knight's frame. And once she was past Artoria's narrow hips and petite buttock, she was able to plunge the Saber into the depths of her fuller, bouncier backside. With a content, slightly aroused sigh, Morgan reformed her underwear and sat back in her seat like she hadn't just trapped her half-sister in her butt. "Family should stick together, don't you agree?" With a sinister snicker, the merciless Berserker rubbed her lower abdomen as she constricted her muscles around her anal prisoner.Carefully. Gently. If I break her too soon, the fun will be over. I should be able to keep her trapped in there for a few days before anyone gets suspicious.
"M-Mother! I can d-do that too! Look." Having watched her mother humiliate her aunt so gracefully, Boabhan Sith was quick to imitate her once more. Taking off her formfitting bottoms, she had the helpless Caster in hand and pried her plumper, softer rear open. "You should feel honored, Artoria. You get to serve your princess directly. You'll be far more useful in my butt than that stupid pilgrimage made you."
"W-Wait! Tori-ko, d-don't do this! This is crazy!" Panicking as her feet were fed into the waiting orifice, the former 'Savior of Faerie Britain' pleaded with the tyrannical princess who oppressed the faeries of the land. "This is so gross! Tori-ko! C-Come on, stop!"
"Ahahaha! Yes, sing for me more, little Artoria. So much for that Magecraft you were so proud of." Not even using her hand to pull the blonde faerie deeper, Baobhan Sith taunted and mocked her prey. "You thought you were hot shit back when you beat me, well I've learned where shit belongs, apparently." Claiming up to the Caster's knees, she giggled playfully as Artoria tried to push against her to free herself, only for her hands to slip into the tight ring. "Oh, what's this? It looks like you agree. Ahahaha! Well, hurry up and crawl into my ass then."
Such vulgar language should be discouraged from a princess, but…Watching as the one instrumental in ending her rule slowly disappeared into her daughter's rear, Morgan couldn't bring herself to spoil the Archer's fun.
Even if her successor was a mostly reluctant pawn in the grand scheme that destroyed her nation, from what she heard, she also caused her daughter to fall into a state that made her vulnerable to political machinations. Had Baobhan Sith retained her Gifted Name, she never would have been taken hostage and the Child of Prophecy's rebellion would have been squashed. While everything worked out in the end thanks to her Husband summoning them all to Chaldea, some things just couldn't be forgotten or forgiven.
Having failed to free herself from the vampiric faerie's backside, the blonde Caster's fate was ultimately sealed well before her chest was consumed by the greedy hole. Begging wasn't getting her anywhere. It only made her tormentor gloat more as she showed off for her mother. "You know what? Screw it! Take this you spoiled little brat!" Snapping, she opened her mouth wide and bit down as hard as she could on Baobhan Sith's wrinkled flesh.
Jumping up from the sensation, rather than a yelp of pain, the sadistic Archer moaned as her muscles involuntarily constricted and pulled the shrunken Caster fully inside of her. Rubbing her rear, Boabhan Sith giggled as her prisoner's torment translated directly into her pleasure. "Like the taste of my ass that much?" Mockingly, she wiggled her hips and clenched her intestinal walls around the uppity faerie, doing a little victory dance. "Well, then you should be happy then. I love keeping you in my–Ah!"
Morgan didn't need to see the tears form in her daughter's eyes as she suddenly stopped dancing and laughing. Even seeing the sparse particles of golden light escaping from her rear, which was still pointed in her direction, was unnecessary. She's always like this. Getting carried away and breaking her toys.Letting out a sigh, she shook her head as the grey-skinned faerie fell to the floor and began to cry.
"I br-broke her! I barely had her in my butt, and she… she just…" Though she was too old to break down into a bawling mess, Baobhan Sith panicked as she grabbed her backside. "Useless! Pathetic! Why? Why was she so weak? I… I didn't…"
Crouching down and embracing her careless daughter, Morgan patted her on the head and stroked her hair. "I keep telling you you need to be more careful, Baobhan Sith. You're such a clumsy, careless girl. What am I going to do with you?"
"Mother. I'm sorry. I tried to be careful, I wanted to do it like you did, b-but she was so fragile." Trying to both take responsibility and pass the blame, the redhead was caught between disappointment in herself and the joy of being wrapped in her mother's arms.
"Well then, you'll just have to keep practicing until you get it right. It's no different from learning Magecraft." Reassuring the Archer, she held up the last remaining Artoria.
"W-Wait! You're not going to…" Realizing the position she was in, the black-clad Saber paled even more as Morgan helped Baobhan Sith stand.
Wiping away the tears that began to form in the corner of her violet eyes, the redhead had calmed down but was still unsure of herself. "But wh-what if I mess up again?"
Smiling gently to her daughter, Morgan cast a couple spells on the tiny Saber. While defensive magic wasn't her strong suit, such buffs should be more than enough for a toy. "That should help, so long as you don't try to break her. Now, bend over." She said, caressing the girl's bare backside.
Her blush consuming her face entirely, the filial daughter bent over the table and presented her rear to her beloved mother. "O-O-Okay…"
"Ready to get a bit closer to your niece, Artoria?" Bringing the struggling Saber to the waiting backdoor, Morgan took a page from Baobhan Sith's book and inserted the feisty Alter feet first. "As you saw, she can be a bit rough, so be patient with her."
"Morgan, you witch! I'll get you for this!" Unable to fight the larger Servant off, despite her best efforts, the Altered Saber was steadily, but carefully shoved into the quivering rear of the faerie Archer. "I swear it! This isn't the last–!"
As much as she would have preferred to take a bit more time drawing it out, Morgan finished acquainting the last of her guests with Baobhan Sith's bowels and sat back down in her seat. "I certainly hope this isn't the last Artori-tea party we can have. Isn't that right, Baobhan Sith?" She said, pouring more tea for herself and her daughter.
Putting her bottoms back on and gingerly sitting down herself, the redhead's smirk was uneasy with arousal from the thrashing Servants in her body. "I'm kind of surprised they haven't realized how many times we've already had, but then again, that's expected of Mother's Magecraft." Giggling as she rubbed her belly, her stomach was making short work of her treats, so she had to make sure she didn't break her toy too quickly.
"When used correctly, hypnosis can be a powerful thing." Patting her own belly, Morgan's grin widened as she drank the specialized tea she crafted just for her half-sisters. "Especially when the subjects would rather forget as well."
"I just wish Master would stop calling on Artoria so much… Even if I didn't break her so quickly, I'd have to let her go anyway." Trying to compose herself and enjoy the tea and snacks as well, the careless mistake she made still weighed on Baobhan Sith's mind. As much as she didn't want to recognize the Caster's Magecraft, there was no arguing with how efficient she made farming and collecting resources.
"Perhaps, but the same can't be said for the other Artorias." Wiggling her hips as the blue Saber in her intestines continued to struggle and squirm, Morgan was content with the results they could achieve. There wasn't much movement from the two Artorias in her stomach, though she could still feel both were still alive, elevating her mood even more.Those two will be gone within the hour, but I wonder how long I can preserve Artoria this time. My Husband is much more likely to call upon that Eastern snake goddess or that homun–, that 'son' my Proper Human History counterpart made if he requires a Saber. It's not like Servants disappearing for stretches of time are that uncommon. Only myself and my Fae Knights remember these tea parties… How about we try to see if you can last the week, Artoria?
"Hey, Mother? Why are there so many versions of Aunty around? And do you think more will show up?" As she thought about the current number of Artorias in Chaldea, Baobhan Sith couldn't help but ask the question. "It's weird enough seeing so many Servants with your face walking around, but none of them have as many copies running around. Not even that countess of blood is that numerous."
"Facial similarities aside, that's something only Alaya would know. Artoria's always been favored and treated differently by the Planet. Loathe as I am to admit it, it takes a special person to wield the sacred sword and holy lance." Before, the presence of so many variants of her half-sister was something Morgan could barely tolerate.
A necessary inconvenience to continue to stay with her Husband and Fae Knights. However, now, the more variants of the King of Knights that independently manifest in Chaldea, the more 'guests' she can extend invitations to.
"Based on the weapons she possessed, there should be a version of her that relied on Carnwennan, the witch-slaying dagger that can shroud the wielder in shadows." Trying to imagine what form such an Artoria would take, the lithe, slender frame of the sacred sword wielders, or a more mature, feminine body like that of the sacred lance holders, it wasn't the shape that she was concerned with. Licking her lips, she giggled at the fact that she could so eagerly await another Artoria being summoned. "I wonder how delicious she would be."
The rest of their tea time together was spent discussing topics related to Artoria. What treats paired best with them, whether the tea blend needed adjusting, and what other variants of the blonde they could think of. Until what she was doing was discovered, whether the Artorias of Chaldea knew it or not, they were Morgan's Artori-tea.