Whoops, been a while. Those in my Fate server know the reason why this took a while, but the short version is a two year long court battle has ended this week and ya boi has been exhausted. Swear it just got more stressful once this year started. Anyway we have a new chapter and this marks the end of day 6! Can't wait to write the shit hitting the fan soon, because I demand blood!
15
Terme, Turkey (Early Afternoon)
Alexis's fingers never stopped thrumming against the surgical table in the middle of her lair.
The brief two days that Jamal had stayed at Alexis's house had made a few things clear to him. The first was that Alexis was particular about when people were allowed into her lab. The second was that she never actually reciprocated Lancer's obvious passes at her, instead showcasing cold indifference and letting him do as he pleased with no opinion either way. And the third was that, despite their rocky meeting, Alexis was almost passionate about administering treatment to people whenever the opportunity arose.
He'd assumed that she was just a cold, shrewd kind of person, like his mother was—or maybe to a greater degree than his mother had been, as she seemed to hold nothing sacred outside of medicine and held no sentimentality towards anything that wasn't ensuring a patient's wellbeing. But after a day into their stay, Alexis was attentive to Jamal's recovery and even mumbled to herself that he was still struggling to shake off the effects of being poisoned. She even said, albeit reluctantly, that she was sorry for giving him such a high dose of arsenic. Imagine that! Sorry for poisoning someone with arsenic!
Even Archer was slowly getting used to Alexis's peculiarities. Whenever Alexis made notes about medicinal ingredients she needed, Archer was by her side and asking what they did specifically—probably in an effort to keep from feeding Jamal anything tainted again. Archer had even been impressed at how quickly Alexis had treated a child with a sprained ankle last night, while they were out getting dinner at a night market, and had even acquiesced to Jamal that a doctor like Alexis was handy to have on their side.
Jamal had even done his best to help this morning, when a man came knocking on their door in a panic as blood leaked from his head, and Alexis had walked in on Jamal singing a light aria to heal the wound with his magecraft. He'd been given a thorough scolding for not checking for things like concussions or fragments that needed to be removed from the wound, but after checking over the man herself, Alexis had conceded that Jamal had done a good thing.
"It's a lovely magecraft," she'd complimented him after a while. "It suits you."
Apparently she was already making herself known as a travelling doctor who worked after hours, and the man was a tourist who'd been robbed shortly after stopping in Terme. Everyone kept pointing him to the one doctor who wouldn't charge him an arm and a leg for treatment, and once everything was over and done with, he was finally able to recognise Jamal and Archer as they offered him a glass of water.
"You guys are far from the States," he'd mused. He spoke English fluently, and Jamal could hear the faintest of Brooklyn accents in his voice. "You doing that, uh, territory thing?"
Archer was vague as she'd smiled at him. "We're trying to stay under the radar," she'd lied. "Do you mind keeping our location a secret? You can post whatever photos you take online at the end of the War, if you'd like."
The tourist had snapped so many pictures and selfies with not only Jamal and Archer, but also Alexis and Lancer. Alexis had tried to tell him to delete the pictures, but the man had enough forethought to offer to make a vow to not post anything until the end of the War. He was a normal person, not a mage, but he seemed to understand what things like a geis meant in the world of magecraft.
When he was gone, Alexis went back to her lair and checked over the news on other servants. That was how Jamal found her downstairs when he brought some lunch down to her, proud of his attempt at making some jambalaya for lunch. It was nothing special, but when he'd heard that Alexis originally planned to hide in Mexico primarily because of their food, he knew he had to introduce her to some good Creole dishes.
Jamal anxiously moved closer to Alexis as she continued to drum her finger against the surgical table. A tablet was propped up on a stand as a highlight reel of the meeting between Team Saber and Team Assassin went down at the Vatican played, and she was only wearing one earphone as she tilted her head towards Jamal in acknowledgement. It was hard to read her expression, but if her reaction was anything similar to Jamal and Archer's, she was tense and on edge over Assassin divulging secrets to his new master while Saber was supported by two masters instead of one.
He set down the bowl of jambalaya in front of her, and Alexis only spared it a short glance before moving her gaze back to the highlight reel. Saber was screaming and pointing wildly at his very satisfied former master.
"You cook?" she asked absently.
"A little," he said. Jamal slowly slid into a chair next to Alexis, and he set down his own bowl of jambalaya in front of him. Wordlessly, Alexis handed him the other earphone and let him listen in on the highlight reel. "It's nothing special. Lancer said you like spicy food, and not to toot my own horn, but Louisiannans have the best experience with putting a kick into soul food."
Alexis let out a neutral hum as she scooped up some of the rice, catching some crayfish with it. It wasn't the crawfish jambalaya his dad had made for him when he was younger, and he didn't have access to any andouille sausage in Terme, but he was able to make do with some Turkish crayfish and smoked sausages from a local butcher. Archer had even picked out the ingredients herself after helping the tourist back to his hotel, excited for Jamal to cook something for the group.
Recreating the Creole seasoning from back home was easy when she got her hands on enough cayenne pepper to make it spicy enough to suit even Alexis's tastes. The rest was trying to remember how his dad would make it by taste and guesstimation. You couldn't go by numbers and measurements for these things—you had to go with your gut and your tongue, and Jamal was chasing the taste of home as he cooked the meal.
"Your plan," he tried, and he winced as he put the earphone into his ear, immediately hit with the expletives Saber was letting loose in front of the Pope. "Does it need to change much?"
Alexis was oddly calm as she took a bite from her jambalaya. She only paused to lick her lips, mildly impressed by the flavour, and began to eat it in earnest. "Not really," she said around her food. "My main issue wasn't Saber specifically, but his master's alliance with the Pope. It's… unfairly tipped in his favour to have the Pope in his ear and the strongest servant at his disposal. But now that Assassin is his servant…"
She leaned back and pointed her spoon at the screen—at Assassin's smiling face.
"He knows too many of my secrets. And he's humiliated Archer while trying to cast doubt on her identity to the public by posing as the Archer class," she recited. "I think it's safe to say our motivations have aligned a little bit better now."
Right. Jamal wasn't sure if this was an enemy of his enemy sort of deal, especially since Assassin gave off the vibe that people were too beneath him to occupy enough space in his mind to count as an enemy, but they definitely had a much better motivation to work together now. Whatever he could spill about Alexis and Lancer was just as dangerous as whatever weakness he could tip off other masters to with Archer. Honestly, Jamal wouldn't be surprised if he knew Lancer's whole deal—the bit about being blessed with weakness so the gods that hated him didn't notice him until he suffered defeats that made him stronger.
Assassin definitely knew too much, that was for sure.
Alexis paused as she frowned down at her bowl. She mumbled, "You overcooked the crayfish."
"I did?" Jamal felt his cheeks burn as he took a bite of some on its own. Ah, way too chewy. His dad's was always nice and tender, slightly sweet, and he supposed he let it sit for too long while making the Creole spice mix. "Sorry…"
"It's not inedible," she reassured him. "You just need practice."
They were silent as they watched the highlight reel again. The video of the meeting of masters came to an end, and Uwe Schulz was giving updates on what other masters and servants were doing so far. Jamal didn't miss the way Uwe noted there was no sign of Lancer and his master, only that the Grail vessel had reported Lancer's summoning to the Church, who then passed on the information to the news. Out of everyone, Alexis was doing the best at keeping a low profile. Even Caster and their master were making themselves known by covering the more isolated parts of Russia in blizzards and storm clouds, regardless of how little they'd run around and interact with other groups. If Alexis's goal was to remain in the shadows and emerge with Lancer as a surprise on the last servant standing, Assassin posed a heavy threat to that plan by exposing his theories on Lancer and giving the identity of his master.
It was very reminiscent of the old ways of participating in the Fuyuki Grail War. Despite the spectacle that was the end of the Third War, which spawned the World Grail War system, it was still important for people to remain covert and not involve the masses in the Grail War. Alexis felt like she was old-fashioned in that way.
But he did have to wonder what her wish was. What she was being so careful for.
As the screen showed footage of phone recordings of Rider and Berserker's encounter early into the War, the fight where Rider chased Berserker down before she'd escaped with her master, Jamal glanced at Alexis and cleared his throat.
"I hope it's not rude of me to ask, but…" Jamal pushed some of his jambalaya around with his spoon. "What are you hoping to get out of this?"
Alexis glanced at him as she scooped a big spoonful of the stuff into her mouth. She chewed thoughtfully, almost weighing her options as they held each other's gaze, and Jamal only just now noticed the little mole under her right eye. He was so used to keeping his distance that he'd never thought to look at her face properly, especially now that she wasn't in disguise as Alex the stewardess.
Eventually, though, Alexis swallowed her food and tilted her head. "If you'd asked me when I was younger," she mused, "it would've been to make my research come true. It was something I was passionate about, but it's all a pipe dream now. That's just how the dice rolls."
Jamal furrowed his brows. "But you could still wish for it," he pointed out.
"No," Alexis insisted. "It would be a wasted wish. I have something more important to wish for." She leaned back into her chair and let out a low sigh, her face pinching together in frustration as one hand reached up to run through her hair. "My parents died because of me. My sister, too. All because I got ahead of myself with my research. I want to undo the damage I did. I… miss them."
Oh… That was… an oddly heartfelt and sentimental wish to make. Jamal looked back down at his food and pursed his lips.
"If your family comes back, will you be able to pursue your dream again?" he asked.
Alexis let out a soft, hollow laugh. "Absolutely not," she said, amused. "I'd stay the hell away from the mistake that killed them and live the rest of my life in peace."
Jamal did laugh along with her, though less hollow than Alexis was. He could vibe with that, honestly. Even though his mother, the one who'd put the slave crest on him, was dead, his sisters and father were still his masters. Unless they died, which was the last thing Jamal wanted, he'd always be subject to the torture of the slave crest if he stepped out of line. It was just… disheartening that Stephanie was following in their mother's footsteps so readily and saw no issue with using Jamal's blood for her magecraft and using the crest to punish him.
Even Diane, her twin, could see how horrible their family was. And their father never spoke an ill word of the DuBry family once to his children. They saw the ugliness and horrors on their own. Stephanie was just the only one to embrace it thanks to her position as the most likely to succeed their mother.
"I feel you there," he eventually said. "What I wouldn't give to live a peaceful life without worry. To just… feel okay with everything."
Alexis reached over and paused the video on the screen. Jamal was surprised, looking back over at her again, and she'd turned in her seat to look directly at him.
"I looked into the DuBry family, you know," she told him. Jamal tensed up, but he tried to keep an amicable expression.
"Yeah?" he replied. "What'd you think?"
"How did a matriarchal mage family whose magecraft relies on blood as a catalyst come to have a master whose magecraft uses singing?"
She was suspicious, almost. Was she doubting he was actually a DuBry? Jamal cleared his throat and shifted in his seat quickly.
"I know I'm not the typical DuBry," he said. "But I really am one. My mother is—was the head of the family. My father is where I inherited my magecraft from, but I also inherited the perfect blood for magecraft that the DuBry family has. It's… actually more potent than my sisters'. But it's unheard of for the male children to inherit the crest of their mothers."
Alexis scrunched up her face. She shook her head and jabbed a finger at Jamal. "They'd harvest it from you, wouldn't they?" she accused.
Jamal reached for his sleeves and hurriedly pulled them down. He'd been careful to wear longer sleeves, but Alexis was aggressive in her accusation.
"Don't try to hide it from me," she scolded him. "You think I didn't get a look on the plane? You think Lancer hasn't had a peek while you're not looking?"
"Alright, alright," Jamal said, louder and with a hint of defeat. "I won't play dumb. It's just… a point of self-consciousness for me."
"Well," Alexis said, though without malice, "look at you. I'd feel like shit too."
"Gee, thanks."
Alexis's eyes narrowed into slits. "I'm trying to sympathise with you," she grumbled. "The sarcasm isn't necessary."
Right. She was right. Jamal calmed himself and cleared his throat. He pushed around some more jambalaya in his bowl.
"Sorry," he mumbled. "I, uh… I'm not used to people just… talking about it. Or people at all, honestly."
Alexis grunted and turned back to her own food. "I know the feeling," she said, distant.
"You?" Jamal was surprised. "You established yourself as a doctor in a foreign country within a single day! Your patients have complete and utter trust in you!"
"You've only seen the ones that know how to follow instructions," she countered. Alexis scooped up more jambalaya and chewed thoughtfully, and then added, "Besides, you have firsthand experience—my bedside manner leaves much to be desired."
"But they know you care—"
"Not about them," Alexis cut him off. Her tone was sharp. "I care about doing the right thing, and what's right is helping people. But I don't care about the people themselves. Why should I? If I weren't giving them something they could benefit from, they wouldn't care about me either."
It was… colder than he was used to with Alexis. Not in the way of being harsh, but almost vulnerable. Like she was admitting to something she was ashamed of, but hated that Jamal had the wrong idea about her. That he was putting her on a pedestal. He could see the small movements in her face, the frustration hiding beneath the indifferent surface, and for a moment Jamal could see himself. The him that was back at DuBry manor, putting on a brave face for Diane because of the shame he felt for being in so much pain. Pain that faded with time, that he became numb to with more exposure, but pain that made him feel inadequate as a reliable older brother. He was supposed to be the one his sisters could go to if they needed support, someone they could trust. But instead, he was just a blood pig like his mother had groomed him—no, forced him to be.
And it was so hard to not show how much it hurt when Stephanie started to view him as the same. Without his blood, he was worthless to the DuBry family. They wouldn't care about him, not even as a resource like they already did. He'd just be empty space in the home that had outstayed its welcome from the moment he'd been born.
Jamal licked his lips and pushed his bowl aside. Alexis welcomed the distraction to change the subject, even if that wasn't his intention.
"Don't skip your meals," she scolded him. "The body starts to break down its fat reserves and put on water weight to make up for it, and it fucks with your health."
Jamal couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up. She looked at him like he was crazy, leaning away from him, but she didn't stop eating her jambalaya.
"You're something else," he said eventually. And he had no ill intent behind the words. She really was incomprehensible and intriguing all the same. Cold and calculating one minute, factually mothering him the next. Dare he say it, she reminded him of the obligatory tsundere characters in those tokusatsu shows he'd watch when no one was looking. "A Pink Ranger, if I had to pick."
Alexis's unnerved look grew more intense. "Are you one of those weeaboos I hear so much about online?"
Jamal laughed again. He shook his head and wiped a tear from his eye. "Tokusatsu series aren't animated. They don't count."
"They most certainly do."
He laughed harder. Alexis was glaring at him. She'd finished her jambalaya, and almost as though spiting him, she reached over and snatched his own bowl to eat it as well. Really, when you got past the poisoning and off-putting attitude, Alexis had her charm points.
By the time Jamal stopped laughing, she was already done with his own portion and stacking the bowls neatly together to her other side, spoons tucked in together. Alexis looked contemplative, almost curious as she glanced at Jamal again, and it seemed her displeasure of his joke had washed away with something else on her mind. Jamal raised his brows, waiting for her to ask, but Alexis just stared at him through narrowed eyes and seemed to size him up.
"What?" he asked.
Alexis cleared her throat and waved a hand dismissively. "No, it's nothing," she said quickly. "I was going to ask—about why you'd need to wish for freedom—but it'd make more sense if you'd signed a geis under duress or—"
Jamal wasn't sure why the words slipped out so easily. He was always ashamed to even think about the fact that his mother had done this to him.
"It's a slave crest," he told her.
Alexis paused. She opened her mouth. Closed it. Brought a hand to her chin in thought.
"Hm," she eventually grunted.
"Unconventional, I know," Jamal joked. "But that's why I want to wish for my freedom. It's not an agreement that ended when my mother died. It's… carved into my existence."
"How unfortunate," Alexis muttered.
"I mean, you learn to live with it," Jamal tried. Alexis looked at him in disgust. Clearly she didn't like that answer. Jamal backpedalled a little. "W—Well… Compared to my mother, my sisters haven't used it as often. A—And my dad never used it! So with Mom gone… Y'know, it's like I never had it."
The more she stared at him, the more Jamal became nervous again. God, why did she have to have the same red eyes as his mother? Did he have a complex when it came to people sharing his mother's features? He was better with Archer now, but sometimes it was hard to shake. He quickly averted his gaze, almost ashamed, and Alexis let out a frustrated sigh.
"Show it to me," she demanded.
Jamal jumped out of his seat, startled. "Excuse me?" he asked quickly.
"Don't be dramatic. I want to see how bad it is," she explained. "Depending on the severity, you might not need to waste a wish on the Grail to get rid of it. Archer's posing as your mother, so why not just have her throw your mother's name around and see what level of spiritual healer you'd need to get rid of the crest?"
Alexis was thoughtful as she rose from her seat and gestured to him. Jamal looked at the floor, nervous, and Alexis sighed again.
"Off the top of my head, I recall there being a man named Kotomine Kirei," she mused. "But I doubt his grandson has the same level of skill. He was a notable outlier in his family. After him, I suppose you could reach out to families in the Clock Tower who specialise in spiritual evocation—they're typically the ones who'd be best suited for anything to do with the healing of the spirit instead of the body. But dealing with the Clock Tower is a chore… Not to mention, your foothold in Terme would be at risk if you head to England just for another shackle replacing the old one. Elsewhere? Maybe an alchemist might work. But there's only so much alchemy can do. The last thing you need is to suffer through it, I'm sure. Maybe we shouldn't be looking into Western magecraft, but Eastern? Could cut through the Caspian sea and make haste to Mongolia. But would they be open to supporting a master not from their country? China's out of the question, there's already rumours someone from the Spiral Manor is a master. Russia would gun for you the moment they found out you were across the border. Not to mention the headache living there… India would be out of the question, too, in that case. Japan, maybe? But then that loops back to the Kotomine family, and none of its members are on the level of Kirei."
She was going off on a tangent, more brainstorming to herself rather than telling Jamal these things. It was almost reassuring, how willing she was to think about how to help him, but it felt like this was too much of a burden to put on Alexis's shoulders to solve. This was Jamal's problem. Not her's.
"Um, Alexis?" he tried. Alexis paused and glanced at him, still in a ruminating pose. "You don't have to go this far for me. I'll figure it out."
"No," Alexis said firmly. "If I can make your participation in the Grail War pointless, I have one less rival in the way. I took a hippocratic oath, Jamal. I'd like to keep it, if I can."
Oh… Right. He was in the way, wasn't he? Jamal smiled helplessly at her and let out a defeated laugh.
"I suppose you're right," he muttered. "I'll just… show you the crest and let you do your thing."
Without much fuss, Jamal sat back down on the seat in front of her table and began to take off his shirt. It was embarrassing, despite how fit he was—he wasn't lanky or stick-like by any stretch, built more like a larger runner thanks to his exercise regime and constantly being at his family's beck and call, but the scars along his arms always looked too prominent, too thick; they didn't stand out in angry red lines like people with fair skin, but it was still off compared to his medium brown complexion. He didn't glance back at Alexis and check if she still wanted to examine him. No, that confirmation came when he heard the sound of gloves being slipped over hands and pulled taut for good measure.
"Interesting choice of tattoo," Alexis noted.
"Aha, yeah…"
The hands were on his back before he could try to explain away the tattoo—something fitting for a songbird shacked by his blood, black wings bound by crimson chains—but Alexis's fingers brushed his back with an unexpected gentleness. Jamal shuddered, surprised by the care she was giving him as she traced the tattoo, and he wondered just what she would use to see the slave crest in his very being. Maybe it was the same gift she used to see what her patients were sick with without even giving them a second glance. Maybe she could see the crest as a sickness in his blood like any other.
Alexis may have declared her bedside manner to be lacking, but this was the most gentle anyone other than Archer had been with Jamal in a long, long time. Even Diane was hesitant to show much affection out of fear of their mother punishing her.
Alexis hummed again. Her hands left his back, and Jamal couldn't help feeling cold in the absence.
"It's modified," she noted. "Not like others I've seen."
"She put it on me when I was seven," Jamal explained. "It, ah, makes my blood feel like it's boiling if I disobey anyone with the authority to punish me."
Alexis clicked her tongue. "Needlessly torturous. No wonder you said you have a high pain tolerance."
All he could do was laugh nervously again. Far be it from him to rationalise why Alexandra had chosen to be so malicious to her own son. In Jamal's humble opinion, the slave crest without the punishment was already going too far.
Alexis let out yet another hum, this time disapproving. "Could've done it myself if it wasn't so complicated," she muttered. "Who the hell is this thorough on a child?"
Her hands were back on him again, palms flat and fingers pushing at the skin. She was muttering under her breath now, almost sounding bitter, and Jamal barely got to catch it all and make sense of it.
"If only I had a reference… What did I write down again? Maybe if it was treated as the removal of a magic crest… I still need my notes, though… What did I write down?"
Before he could ask her what she was talking about, the door to the lair burst open with a loud thud. Alexis was quick to jump away from Jamal, on edge and alert, and Jamal felt like a deer in the headlights as he cringed at the sudden crash of the door being slammed open.
Lancer stood in the doorway, tense as he smiled. His face was red, having clearly eaten some of the jambalaya as one hand fanned himself, and he was loud as he declared, "By Odin's beard, did you cook this, Jamal? You must walk me through the recipe! Right this instant!"
Jamal may have been out of touch with most people on a good day, but he knew enough to recognise a man marking his territory because of jealousy.
He sucked in a steeling breath and moved from his seat. Despite Alexis's protests, Jamal excused himself politely and hurriedly put his shirt back on.
"You look like you need a sno-ball to wash it all down," he joked. Lancer nodded eagerly, almost desperate to separate Jamal and Alexis. "I'll write down a less spicy recipe for you."
Prati District, Rome, Italy (Early Afternoon)
"And what's up with this wallpaper? God, it looks like something a dog on the street dragged in after finding it in the mud. I can't even call it rustic—that's reserved for wallpaper that can be salvaged by furniture."
At the kitchen table, Sudi and Casval sat with their faces in their hands. Ever since the servant swap had taken place, the Pope had all but kicked Sudi out of the Vatican to keep up appearances of being neutral; sure, he'd been allowed to keep the Ash Lock and the Black Keys, and with the mystic code being fitted for him specifically, there was no need to return the raincoat. But everything else Sudi got out of the meeting? Oh, what little the Pope let him keep didn't even come close to making up for the new thorn in their sides.
With no choice but to head back to his family home, Eugenia in tow and resting in her room with an attending Maria, it seemed the former master of Assassin had decided that, if he couldn't be his old alliance's problem, he would be Sudi's problem. Even with Casval's attempts at chasing him out of the house with his own mystic codes, Louis Laurent Monette somehow kept finding new entrances to break in from. And every time he showed up again, he'd resume his complaints about the group's current dwelling with no regard for anything they said.
"A four burner stove? What are we, peasants? How the hell are you supposed to prepare your appetisers alongside the main meal? Where's the passion for the food?"
Sudi lifted his head just in time to see Louis angrily turning the knobs on the stove. Louis gave it a sniff, displeased, and went on to gawk, "And it's gas? Chouchou, the control of the heat needs to be precise in order for the food to taste good. How do you even live like this?"
"I can't believe I almost miss the aggressive flirting," Sudi muttered. Louis was already wandering into the living room, and he let out a horrified gasp at the sight of the drapes.
"Navy blue on red brick? Are you insane!?"
Casval's hand landed on Sudi's shoulder. He looked more exhausted than normal, and the man seemed desperate as he stared Sudi dead in the eyes.
"I value the survival of humanity," Casval told him quietly, "but humanity will survive without him. I will gladly do it myself."
"Was this house built by an amateur!?" Louis screeched.
"It might be for the best," Sudi whispered back, disappointed. "At this rate, he might be petty enough to sabotage us and leak everything to his old alliance."
"Best not to risk it," Casval said.
"Best not," Sudi agreed.
Between them, Assassin finally materialised and placed a hand on both their chairs. He'd been missing since they'd arrived at the home, calmly telling his new master that he wanted to familiarise himself with Rome before they made any major moves, and Sudi had allowed it. Without someone like Saber on their side—even if he never truly was—any fight in Italy with him would be a risky one. Servants got a boost in their home countries, and aside from having the strongest class, Sudi just lost the home advantage. At least Assassin's skills seemed to make up for it, especially his Presence Concealment.
Assassin leaned between them, smiling as always, and whispered, "Do keep him alive long enough to tell you what he knows about my old masters."
Casval slammed a fist on the table. "What in the world could he possibly tell us that you can't?" he demanded.
Assassin gave a small chuckle and suggested, "How to honeytrap one of them, perhaps?"
"He's gay!" Casval shouted.
For what it was worth, Sudi did also chime in, "He's engaged." The last thing they needed was to put pressure on Casval to cosy up with the other masters.
"What a shame." Assassin leaned back and straightened himself up. He looked over to the living room, where Louis was staring with narrowed eyes—no doubt his attention was caught by Casval shouting that Sudi was gay—before folding his hands behind his back and humming to himself. "Regardless, I'm sure he can have his uses. I hear my new master has a knack for surviving deadly encounters? Well, my old one has a knack for… happening upon things he wants."
Sudi was dubious. "I doubt the whole thing with losing his position as a master and being kicked out of his alliance was what he wanted."
"No, that's a fair point," Assassin said glibly. "But he does want to keep coming into your home. Have either of you been able to shake him this whole time?"
Hm.
Sudi didn't like that.
Both Sudi and Casval glanced behind Assassin, back to the living room where Louis was gawking at the fabric used to decorate the couch cushions, and they were just in time for Eugenia to stomp over towards the pink-haired man with Maria in tow. She had a rolled up newspaper in one hand, and the woman clutched her shawl at her chest with the other hand as she whispered obscenities at him in Italian. Louis was louder, scoffing as Sudi heard him call Eugenia a boudin, and then all the group could hear was more enraged Italian shouts as Eugenia began to beat Louis with the newspaper.
Sudi looked at Assassin. Assassin was smiling brightly.
"I really don't feel like it's worth keeping him around," Sudi told him.
"And yet, you can't shake him. Best to take advantage of a situation to gain the upper hand, even if it's a terrible situation."
"Even you agree it's a terrible situation," Casval fired back.
That made Assassin laugh, almost helpless, and he raised his hands in surrender.
"Fine, fine," he said airily. "I'll admit I'm only asking he stay for my own peace of mind. I can't help being the way I am, and I won't deny that I got a little attached to my former masters during my brief stay with them."
"Great, so we also have Assassin potentially sabotaging us to worry about," Casval groaned. He looked at Sudi, his expression near-pleading, but his words were certainly nowhere close to a plea to the other man. "Sudi, I only agreed to come to be a tutor for you and maybe take on the mantle of master if you found yourself unable to follow through. I need you to understand I have no obligation to stay after teaching you the basics, and I'm almost done with the fundamentals. I am taking a huge gamble in sticking around—be it the gamble of you winning and using your wish for good, or me taking your place and furthering the survival of humanity through the Holy Grail. But I am not a gambler. I prefer to operate on absolutes and statistics that skew heavily towards a desired outcome. I am not the kind of man who says a point-zero-zero-one percent chance of winning is a chance worth taking. That is a loss. A loss, Sudi."
"I know," Sudi tried, but Casval held up a hand to silence him.
He took a moment to compose himself, wiping the expression from his face to something more cold, trained.
"I am reminding you of this," he informed Sudi, "because every hour of every day, I am running through calculations and information that we have from doing nothing, and not a single time have I come up with something that results in anything that isn't a loss or a moot point. Confronting the alliance in an ambush? Sure, we dumped the weakest link in the group on them, but we got our access to the grail vessel revoked and a new nuisance to worry about in return. We stole a command seal by exploiting the neutral ground rules, but all three of us almost died because a magus killer showed up. A magus killer, Sudi!"
Sudi wasn't sure what to say. He wasn't sure what he could offer to make Casval stay. Really, he was right. While everyone else had been doing all they could to prepare, Sudi and Saber had just lounged around and made themselves at home at the Vatican. Casval was dragged here to teach Sudi the basics of magecraft, and it was more than obvious he had more stakes in this race than Sudi did. Sudi didn't even have a wish, meanwhile Casval was pursuing something so grand that he didn't even fathom that such a thing could be wished for.
Even the former Assassin alliance had been more organised than them, plotting to oust one of their members publicly while trying to steal the grail vessel. He'd bet that even Caster and Lancer and their masters were preparing something devious in the shadows, despite how little media presence either of them had.
He glanced back over at the living room. Maria had calmed Eugenia down as Louis sulked in a corner. He was fiddling with a little antique brass clock—the oldest of the clocks Sudi's father had repaired, and one he'd kept for himself to spruce the place up a bit after the previous owner told him to do what he wanted with it.
The owner had practically given away the expensive item, all because of a little oxidisation on a replaceable part.
Such a valuable piece, just given away for free.
Sort of like their nuisance of an heir.
Sudi blinked.
"I know how we can use him," he said, and Casval groaned softly.
"Did you not hear a single thing—"
"I heard you," Sudi said quickly. "And I'm trying to minimise losses. We've been operating with just your funding and the sponsorships of the Vatican, yes? If I die and you lose the War, this is a massive financial loss on your part. You're from a very big family, from what I can gather. What if you get a chance to participate in the next War, twenty, maybe thirty years down the line? Why would they give you that opportunity to represent the Atlas Institute when you wasted all that money and resources on this one?"
Casval stared at him. He narrowed his eyes, frowning, and sighed.
"Money's not an obstacle," Casval told him. "We don't value monetary gain over genuine talent and research. As long as I have some kind of result from this War, I'm not expelled from participating in the next one. Or trying to, at least."
"But Louis has more than just money." Sudi looked at Assassin, and there was a certain kind of glee in the man's eyes. He smiled back down at Sudi, hands folded behind his back, and he was practically broadcasting that Sudi had correctly deduced what to do with their new member. "You said he has a knack for finding what he wants. It's to do with his Origin, isn't it? I know enough to know it's basically etched into his existence, not something you can turn on and off."
Casval leaned forward. He seemed to be crunching the numbers, and his eyes lit up as he glanced at Assassin.
"What's his intellectual capacity look like?" he asked.
"My former master was the one behind all of the tabloids and interviews," Assassin reported. "He wrote up the scripts and knew exactly who to contact, and he accurately planned for how to get rid of one member of the alliance. Had he and his cohort not been thwarted so embarrassingly… I suppose you could say that the Van-Alphen name would be considered public taboo by the end of the seventh day of the War."
"So he can predict emotional responses and knows how to manipulate stories," Casval muttered. "Alright, Assassin, I'll bite. What's your personal evaluation of his abilities? I know he almost killed Sudi, but that was with the help of his so-called friend. What about on his own?"
Assassin eagerly pulled out a chair and sat down, a big smile on his face as he sat down and folded his hands over the table.
"I do love when information can be shared like this," Assassin started. "It's my forte, you see. The exchange of valuable information. The formulation of a plan. I'm in my element like this."
"My question, Assassin," Casval said dryly.
Assassin held up his hands in surrender. He let out a short huff of a laugh and began to answer Casval's question.
"I'm sure you've gathered what his elemental affinity is," he explained. "I've noticed he can alter the state of matter of the water he manipulates, on top of producing so much of it through condensation. You could say that Louis has a very intricate understanding of his capabilities and honed those skills throughout his life so far, so the difference between someone, say, like my new master—born both lucky and unlucky, with a knack for survival and healing—and a third-rate mage such as Louis… I'd compare it to night and day. He's put in the work on the theoretical and practical applications of his abilities. He's no master by any means, but certainly no novice."
"As expected of someone of his standing," Casval muttered. He pushed his glasses up his nose. "And what of—"
Assassin held up a finger and waved it back and forth. "Uh-uh," he cooed. "I'm not finished on this part. I like to be thorough, and despite your… capacity to fill in the blanks yourself with that brilliant little head of yours, I prefer to make sure no one at the table missed something important."
Both of them looked at Sudi. Sudi felt his face flush as he realised what the implications were; he was the slowest one at the table compared to the Alchemist with six rooms and the Assassin servant whose specialty was information gathering.
"R—Right," Sudi mumbled. "Thank you for your consideration, Assassin."
Assassin smiled brightly at him. Sudi wanted to sink into the floor in shame.
"As I was saying," Assassin went on. He gave a nod to the living room, and Louis was now obnoxiously asking Eugenia about another antique. It was easy to see that he was intrigued, though, because he held it so fondly and carefully as he gave the woman attitude. "I was able to do some digging and took a peek into some of his capabilities. He's what you'd call a 'solid' magus. Jack of all trades, master of none. If you can think of it, he's dabbled into it enough to do it at the drop of the hat, however rudimentary. I also found out, when I was summoned, that one of my former masters had done a full background check on him. You're looking at someone who holds the rank of Cause in the Mage's Association."
Casval hissed as he turned in his seat and glared at Louis. Sudi furrowed his brows and glanced between his tutor and his servant.
"Is that a bad thing?" Sudi asked.
Just as quickly as he'd turned to look at Louis, Casval turned back in his seat and shook his head. "It's nothing."
Assassin was amused as he waved a dismissive hand at Sudi as well. He regretted not learning more about how the organisations ran themselves and how to understand the basics from Eugenia sooner. Though, in Sudi's defence, being the humble son of a horologist didn't leave a lot of room for dabbling in magecraft.
But if he got into the semantics, he couldn't use that excuse either. He heard that his mother's family were well established mages in India, after all.
"Our friend possesses quite the mystic codes, as well," Assassin went on. "He was rather well prepared for the ambush, if I do say so myself. And with money not being an issue on his part, I'm sure whatever the situation calls for can be easily accessed through his help."
"I can simply make the mystic codes myself," Casval insisted. "It's actually a hobby of mine, and I trust my own abilities over the risk of the idiot sabotaging us."
"Then trust you can pick up on that sabotage attempt," Assassin reminded him. "If you are too clever to be tricked, as you claim, then there's no risk to your life or my master's life by letting Louis foot the bill for high quality items. I'm sure you'd tamper with them anyway to make sure they function properly."
Casval frowned at Assassin. He leaned back in his chair, and his finger tapped against the table at a slow, rhythmic pace. Half-second intervals that filled the room like droplets from a faucet.
"What do you want in exchange for all of this?" he demanded.
The look Assassin gave him feigned hurt, but it didn't last for long. Instead, he gave Casval a guilty smile and raised his hands in surrender again.
"I should've prepared myself for that question," Assassin said, more to himself than anyone else. "I did just acknowledge your intelligence and wariness, after all. But I digress. I'm giving you this information as a test. You see, as the servant of an alliance, I learned many things. Things that could turn the tide of the War in our favour. But I'm also a prudent man who believes in fairness. And more than fairness, I believe in finding the right people for the right job."
"And what job do you want us to do?" Sudi asked.
Assassin brought a finger to his lips, miming for Sudi to not speak. But it was playful, like he was just asked to give an example of a secret he'd kept—with his response being that it wouldn't be a secret anymore if he gave that example.
With an almost excited lilt to his voice, he told Sudi and Casval, "The task I want to test you for requires urgency. But that urgency will only kick in once that knowledge becomes public. So my lips remain sealed, and you two will focus on the task I'm going to give you. You'll find the test will benefit us immensely, anyway. Alchemist, I believe you have a grudge against Saber?"
"Who doesn't," Casval deadpanned.
"Right. Rather insufferable, wasn't he? I want you two to prove to me that you can use the resources available to you and exploit weaknesses of your enemies to win this War." Assassin leaned forward, and he seemed almost giddy. He was appraising Casval and Sudi all at once, almost as though crunching the numbers and making predictions for how this would all end. "I want you to get rid of my former masters and Saber as the first casualties of the War. And then we'll talk about the real issue of this War."
It was more work than they'd done so far. Was there a time limit? What if they did it wrong? Sudi couldn't get a read on what expectations Assassin had for them, and while he made himself out to be an open book who made his preferences known right out the gate, he was still holding a considerable amount back. From what Sudi could gather, Assassin didn't spend long with his masters at all—he was constantly on the move, barely keeping contact with them as he posed as the Archer class with someone else as his master. He was halfway across the world for several days. And he'd learned all of that about Louis? Citra being diligent in her research of her allies or not, that was still some intimate understanding he had of Louis. Assassin even had a suspicion of what his Origin was.
How much had he learned just from talking to Casval and Sudi like this?
Assassin let out a small, "Welp," and smacked his hands on his knees. As he rose from his chair, he informed Sudi and Casval with a chipper tone, "I'm going to go pay my respects to my master's late family. They're in the backyard, yes? You two think about how to prove yourselves capable of my ordeal in the meantime."
He vanished into the air, dematerialising as he presumably left for the backyard. Sudi and Casval both sighed heavily, though Sudi was more of a groan than a sigh as he looked to Casval with a pleading expression.
"Is this enough incentive to get you to stay?" he asked, almost begging Casval to say yes.
Casval weighed it up in his mind, particularly Assassin's own input on the matter. Sudi was no genius, so he hoped that whatever Assassin was in life was enough to convince Casval to give the alliance one more try.
Finally, Casval stopped tapping his finger on the table.
"It's a gamble," he prefaced. Sudi felt his heart sink. But Casval sighed and waved a hand at him, almost as though telling him to dismiss his disappointment. "But it's not the kind of gamble I won't take. I've seen the devastation Assassin left in Louisiana, and he's much more controlled than Saber was. More than that, he's actually working with you as a servant and valuing input and brainstorming. He's an intellectual before a warrior, which is what we need now that we're so far behind everyone else. Sudi, this is my final chance I'm giving this alliance. And if it fails, I go to England to help Rider. Do you understand?"
Sudi nodded. He pursed his lips, and hesitantly, he asked, "Is Assassin's promise to get back at Saber swaying your decision at all?"
Casval stared at him. After a beat of silence, he admitted, "It helps."
Well, Sudi wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth.
"So our real obstacle is trying to get our new friend to help us out," Sudi decided.
"Assassin didn't say he wouldn't give more information," Casval pointed out. "If we hit a wall, we can at least prove to him that we're not so proud that we can't ask for help. He's not only testing our ability to plan and execute a task, but he's also testing our ability to know when we're in over our heads. If we fumble at any point during a moment of hesitation or uncertainty, we fail."
Casval stood up from his chair and groaned a little. His hand went for his back, rubbing his hip almost, and Sudi could tell he was still a little tender from the ambush.
"I know plenty about his family," Casval went on. "I'll have Maria look into any potential weaknesses or soft spots we can appeal to. In the meantime, we're going to do this the old fashioned way. How good is your cooking?"
Sudi blinked at him. "It's decent?" he said, uncertain.
"Start figuring out what food he likes. We're busting out the psychology textbooks and swaying his opinion towards us—or at the very least against his former allies—until he freely gives us what we need."
Huh. Sudi nodded once, also rising from his seat, and he rushed towards the living room with his best attempt at a neutral expression.
At least Louis wasn't doing anything to warrant Eugenia screaming at him anymore.
Hampshire, England (Evening)
"A wedding!?" Holly screeched.
After their very eventful day at the Clock Tower, things had seemed to be wrapping up. Everyone returned to the Leighton manor to lick their wounds—some of them with actual wounds, like Holly, while others simmered over their verbal battle with the enemy—and it was already rather unsettling to have their former enemy sipping tea in the sitting room. But the bombshell Natalya had just dropped on them, alongside the agreement she and Jastrum had come to, was enough to make Holly jump out of her chair and stare at Natalya with a mixture of betrayal and concern.
It was very, very hard to tell when Natalya's act had ended. Holly wasn't even sure if she was even acting at all, now that she was smugly sipping her tea with Berserker's master and reporting her newfound engagement.
"It was an unexpected outcome," Nat mused. "But it's a step in the right direction."
Even Vere was taken aback, leaning over Natalya as he stared at her with narrowed eyes. "Nat, this is dangerous," he warned her softly. "Think about what they did to—"
"It's precisely why I'm pleased with this outcome," Natalya interrupted him. "It's about time my hands got dirty for this cause."
The sun was setting in the horizon. Holly's aunt had come out with refreshments not long ago, while everyone had gathered in the room and let out a collective sigh of relief. Rider pointedly avoided Berserker, hanging by the corner of the room in brooding silence, while Berserker sat with her master and gleefully sipped a teacup of her own. Berserker's master, Lan, sat on the loveseat with her husband as they nibbled on biscuits that Rosemary had gone through the trouble of freshly baking. Natalya was seated on her own chair closer to the loveseat, her tea half-finished and no longer piping hot, while Vere had been pacing back and forth beside her chair. And Holly? She'd been holding one ice pack against her cheek—occasionally switching to the other side—while Aunt Rosemary bandaged the cuts riddling her skin.
Rosemary was very upset that Holly had been the only one to come back with this many injuries, if any injuries at all. What was supposed to be a simple mission to gather information and check the former residence of the Renard family had turned into Holly falling through a hall after being slapped silly by Natalya in front of the Clock Tower gates.
And now a wedding announcement? Holly could feel her walls building back up systematically, glaring daggers into Natalya as the woman nonchalantly sipped her tea again.
"He hasn't decided who the marriage will be to," Natalya explained. "But I'll be entering the Archelot family one way or another thanks to this union."
"Swear to God, Nat," Vere said, voice tense.
"A honeytrap is certainly an interesting angle," Rider mused. He was still sulking in the corner, but he was staring at Natalya with an almost unreadable expression. Through the link they shared, Holly could feel the tinge of disapproval from Rider. At least he also had an opinion on this, even if he wasn't jumping down Natalya's throat for it. "A dangerous one, though. What exactly is the angle you're going for here?"
"Yes, do tell," Lan chimed in. She patted Berserker's head slowly, and the servant was practically preening at the attention. Holly swore her eyes had changed colour at some point since arriving here. "It's not every day that you see someone playing the Lords of the Clock Tower like fools."
"Normally that's your job," Lan's husband mused playfully.
They exchanged knowing glances and chuckled at each other.
Despite the lighthearted tone the couple took, the rest of the room was still tense enough to suffocate Holly. Rosemary finished disinfecting the last of the cuts on Holly's hands and motioned for her to lift her shirt, and she grimaced at the sight of the lacerations on her torso. All those brambles had been unkind to Holly, and she could see Rosemary thought the same thing.
She was just thankful the woman didn't launch into a lecture.
"I also would like to know what your thought process was," Rosemary said, and her tone was terse and clipped.
Natalya glanced at Rosemary, setting down her tea as she did so.
"Jastrum clearly used the confiscated material as a reason to have Olena killed," Natalya explained. "She studied in his department, so he clearly knew what her capabilities were and where her goals were aligned. Whatever she did, it would jeopardise the Aristocratic faction's hold on the politics of the Clock Tower. Magic has become sanitised to the masses, to the point where they'll believe anything as long as we string a lie strong enough to not unravel when one of them decides to study magical theory. The practices of the great families and the emerging magus families are kept under wraps, and even now, we're seeing one family being outcasted among the others. The Monette family was smart to portray the Van-Alphen family as a den of villains who experiment on human lives for research. Never mind that any long-lived family has done the same at least once in a generation."
"We know Olena was a threat to Jastrum's hold," Vere sighed. "There was no doubt about that."
"We also look at this from the standpoint of a businessman," Natalya went on. "Jastrum and the Archelots by proxy lost a talented mage in the process of labelling Olena as dangerous. Vere may just be from a branch family, but if Anya had proven to be talented enough as she got older, Jastrum could've adopted her as a younger sister and made her his heir. Jastrum had to cut off his own tail to escape the stalemate tipping in the Democratic Faction's favour. And he had three other families help him do it."
Natalya looked at Holly. Holly shied away from her, switching the ice pack to her other cheek as an excuse to block Natalya from her sight.
"The fairies described a woman who looked exactly like one of Jastrum's allies," she said. "All I managed to get was the name Cendrillon, but—"
Rosemary bristled, eyes widening as she jumped to her feet and her face turned red.
"Absolutely not!" she screamed.
Holly looked up at her aunt in shock. The only time she ever raised her voice like this was when Holly was in deep trouble, and she could feel her heart hammering faster in her chest. Rider was by her side in an instant, a hand on her shoulder, and Holly steadied her breathing to try and keep calm. Rosemary wasn't yelling at her. It was at Natalya. Holly hadn't done anything to warrant a lecture yet.
"You know the name," Natalya said, and it wasn't a question.
"I bloody well do! I've stood by and let you lot prance around my house like you own the place for Holly's sake, but damn it all, I'm not making an enemy of the Albas!" Rosemary ran a hand through her hair and snarled at Natalya. "This is too much, Ms. Argyris. I dare say I prefer being an enemy of just the Archelots compared to this."
Natalya looked to be in thought as she pondered what Rosemary was saying. Beside her, Lan hummed with mild interest and propped her elbow on the arm of the loveseat, resting her cheek on her fist.
"I've heard of the Albas," she mused. "They do the dirty work of the Clock Tower, yes? Enforcers, they call them. Suppose you should be thankful it wasn't Cornelius in the room with us, though the woman did bear a striking resemblance to him."
"We can use this," Natalya mumbled.
Vere looked at her in horror. "Nat, we were prepared to do whatever it took when it came to the Archelots, but this? Cornelius Alba almost reached the rank of Red—there's no telling what this woman is capable of!"
"You didn't see the way she acted during the conversation," Natalya said. "She seemed almost… amused at the discussion. Like she wasn't fully on Jastrum's side. It felt more like Jastrum was trying to appease her instead." She blinked slowly as she glanced over at Lan. "You noticed it too, didn't you? The way Cendrillon was the one Jastrum kept looking at for approval."
Lan nodded once. "I hear she even insisted it be her quill that you sign a contract with," she noted.
"About that…"
Natalya reached into her pocket and pulled the folded sheet of paper out, and she set it down on the small coffee table in the middle of the room. She unfolded it, and Holly caught sight of a line stating that Natalya was to marry the Archelot family member of Jastrum's choice as an adequate price for access to Olena's research materials. At the very bottom, two signatures could be found—one from Natalya, and one from Jastrum.
It looked to be an ordinary piece of paper, but then Natalya said, "This was a geis."
"Natalya!" Vere all but shouted.
"It's powerless," she cut him off. "The quill did something to it. I don't know what, but when she escorted me out, she said it had the power to negate contracts. Every single term on this contract that I'm bound to follow is now void. All I have to do is make sure Jastrum never finds out."
She looked up from the contract, back to Holly, and she went on, "Do you see what I mean about being able to use this?"
Holly wanted to believe it'd be fine if this was their game plan. Making a fool of Jastrum was okay, right? She wasn't as involved in this Black Triad business as Natalya and Vere were, but she was still a victim of Jastrum's cruelty. There was no doubt he'd already told someone else about her, but there was no telling who… She knew the other two Lords collaborating with him knew, especially since Natalya had come out and said one of them recognised Holly and tried to play coy about her lineage to throw Natalya off, but how many beyond that?
"This is still too much," Rosemary forced out. She was clenching her fists tightly by her side, hands shaking from anger. "If he wants a wife so bad, I'll marry the bloody prick myself, and he can leave Holly alone."
"With all due respect," Natalya said slowly, "Jastrum wants a woman of child rearing age from a reputable family. And you are not only in your forties, Ms. Leighton, but your family name doesn't amount to much right now, does it?"
Rosemary kicked at the coffee table, almost upending it, and Holly flinched as her aunt seethed. Rosemary turned to Rider, eyes wild and face red, and she practically commanded him, "Take her to Avalon right this instant!"
Everyone's eyes landed on Holly, then. It was only now that she realised that none of them had told Lan about her lineage, or that it was being used against her by Jastrum.
Holly withdrew into herself as Rider's grip on her arm became looser, like he was rejecting her. All she could feel was the cold bite of the ice pack against her cheek.
"I am a psychopomp," he reminded Rosemary. "Unless she's dead, there's no use in me taking my master anywhere. You don't even know if she'll survive the trip thanks to her human half."
"I don't care!" Rosemary shouted. And Holly felt dread from the words. Did she not care that Holly would die? "Anywhere is better than here! Anywhere he can't get to her is better than this!"
"I shouldn't have left the mansion," Holly whispered.
Rosemary flinched. She seemed to realise what she'd said and how harsh she'd sounded. The tension left her body immediately, and Holly shied away from her aunt as she knelt down and gently grasped one of her hands, trying to comfort the young woman.
"Oh, Holly, you're not in trouble," she cooed. "I've lectured you plenty for this already. Everything that happens at this point isn't your fault, alright? You just…" Rosemary pursed her lips and bit back a sigh. "I just wish… that your mother had kept you with her, rather than…"
Holly snatched her hand away. "I'd be a lot less of a nuisance that way, wouldn't I?"
"That's not what I meant and you know it…"
It didn't feel like it. She knew Rosemary resented Holly's father for being the one to inherit the family's crest, even though Rosemary had been the older of the two. And she knew she saw Holly as a burden when she got in trouble like this.
Rider sighed and pinched at his brow. He glanced over at Berserker, giving the servant the meanest stink eye Holly had seen him make yet, and he scrunched up his face as he looked back at Holly.
'She gave you something, didn't she?'
Holly tried not to let it show on her face that the two were communicating. 'She called herself Eulalie. She gave me a bell to summon her for a body to collect.'
'Don't reveal that you have it. As far as everyone else is concerned, you only spoke with the pixies. Worst comes to worst… Damn, maybe I could leave you in her care for a while…'
Would she be safe with Eulalie? She did say Rider was her husband, so it was likely, but she'd given Holly the very strong impression that she followed her own whims rather than agreements. Holly was something of passing interest, right? What happened after Eulalie figured out what Holly was? She'd have no reason to want to make deals with her or keep her around.
'She… did say she wanted you to tell her about this War when you're done with it,' Holly tried.
'The wanderlust is eating at her again,' Rider informed Holly. 'She hasn't seen the outside world of her own accord since before the World Grail War system was established.'
How terrible. Was that why she was so out of sorts? Or was Eulalie always like that?
Rider finally seemed to swallow what little pride he was comfortable setting aside as he faced Lan and her husband. His hands were firmly planted on his hips, a disgruntled expression on his face.
"Your husband said your goals might align with ours," he said. Lan glanced at her husband, and he laughed sheepishly back at her. A guilty as charged kind of laugh. "If this… blasted wedding is to occur, and Natalya isn't bound by the contract, how do you recommend we deal with this?"
"You're a warrior," Lan said smoothly. "You think of something."
Rider's brow twitched. "I don't deal in vengeance," he informed her. "I deal in—"
"Yes, yes, you deal in the deceased and war. How simple your kind must be, to not need to plan accordingly for anything and just follow your whims."
Rider opened his mouth to quip back at her, but thought better of it as he glanced at Berserker. He sniffed, putting on a cool expression, and he replied smoothly, "Well, I suppose I've never been so weak that I've had to rely on trickery like you and your servant. Pardon me for thinking to ask a so-called master of traps what to look out for."
That seemed to bother Lan. She rolled her shoulders, letting out a slow breath, and she took a moment to calm herself. She must not have liked blows to her ego, Holly thought. Yet another proud mage whose presence took up the room. No wonder Jastrum wanted to reach out to her.
Eventually, though, Lan leaned forward and picked up the contract. "I've heard of the Black Triad. Not really something I've followed closely, since it's not under my jurisdiction," she said. "But from my perspective as a member of the Embroidered Guard, I can say with almost full certainty that this group operates separate from the factions of the Clock Tower. A good way to put it is that while they are members of the Aristocratic Faction, the Aristocratic Faction is not aware of their alliance. And if they're trying to use Miss Leighton to get a wish from the Grail, it's fairly obvious what they're doing is in the interest of the Aristocratic Faction. They probably liken themselves to the shadow government that guides the faction out of the stalemate, or prevents anything from shifting the tides towards the Democratic Faction."
She flicked a finger against the contract, and she clicked her tongue.
"Right here. 'Natalya Argyris is to merge the crest of the Argyris family into that of the Archelot family crest as a show of good faith and loyalty to Jastrum Archelot.' You said so yourself that you're a special kind of alchemist, so Jastrum likely wants to utilise you as a tool for breaking the deadlock in case Miss Leighton doesn't work out for the wish."
"Is it correct to assume it's just power in any form that Jastrum wants?" Natalya asked.
Lan nodded once. "Power that benefits all three families. You said that woman, Casiphia, mentioned a promise after trying to object to an engagement? If you factor in the dynamic all three had with Cendrillon Alba, I'd say… All three of them scratch each other's backs, and they keep Cendrillon entertained by giving her something stimulating so that she doesn't grow bored with them and abandons them. I'd wager that the three hold as much power as they do by fudging the rules for each other. That's why something that was the business of the Department of Botany required the presence of the Lords of Spiritual Evocation and Mineralogy."
Holly felt her hopes dash in that instant. So even if she evaded Jastrum, she still had to worry about the El-Melloi family and the Sophia-Ri family hunting her down? Weren't those families huge? Not to mention, they had a ton of branch families—the Sophia-Ris were already branched from the Nuada-Re family to begin with! That was…
This was too much for Holly to handle alone.
She looked up at Rider, and she felt her chest cave in on itself. Rider reached for her, his hand back on her shoulder, and Holly couldn't feel her face anymore under the cold of the ice pack.
"I'd…" Holly swallowed a lump in her throat. "I'd like a moment to myself, please. I'll excuse myself."
Rosemary watched with a pained expression as Holly hurried out of the room. She didn't check for everyone else's reactions, too focused on getting out of the sitting room, and she only noticed Rider following close behind as he dematerialised behind her.
Holly made it to the greenhouse, her sanctuary, and she all but collapsed onto the path as she heaved and gasped for air. It was too much. There was too much happening. She was ready to usurp one man and put his family member in his spot, maybe make some deals to get her out of trouble, but this? Half the Clock Tower knew about her already! Jastrum promised he'd keep her existence a secret if she did as he said, and then he went and told his friends anyway!
Did Holly ever stand a chance? Was she even allowed to try?
Rider materialised beside her and sat down on the path, and for once he was cautious and caring. He rubbed a hand on her back, trying to soothe her, and Holly couldn't take it anymore. She burst into tears and wailed into her hands. She threw the ice pack with so much force that it crashed into an empty pot nearby.
For the longest time, all she could hear was herself. Even when Rider whistled for something, Holly didn't lift her head to check; she was so caught up in her spiralling thoughts and her sorrow that she just wanted to fall into another hole and dissociate with Eulalie for a while. Holly didn't want to think about her circumstances or what came next for her, because she knew whatever she did think of would be so despair-inducing that she'd never pull herself from her rut.
She pitied Rider, almost. She used to be so bright and cheerful, to the point where nothing got her down, and now he was stuck with a master who shut down every time she found out something horrific waited for her beyond the false narrative she was fed.
She wanted to go to Avalon too. It wasn't like she stayed here because she wanted to. Holly wanted to be where she belonged, just like everyone else.
Something cold brushed against her head, and Holly flinched enough that she stopped wailing. She almost choked on her tears as she gasped for air, and she felt light-headed and dizzy as she looked up in a hurry. At first she couldn't make out what she was looking at, or what the source of the cold had been; but then it came again, this time to her cheek, and Holly squeezed her eyes shut as she felt the shape of a hand stroke her swollen cheek.
It was such a loving, gentle touch. It felt like what she always imagined a mother's touch would be.
Holly slowly opened her eyes. Though faint, the setting sun made it easier to see what was in front of her. The vague outline of a person was standing over her, half-crouched as though trying to make itself the same size as her. And as the peeks of twilight rays hit the shape, Holly could faintly make out features where the face would be.
She didn't know this woman. But she seemed to know enough about Holly to want to comfort her.
"Poor thing," the disembodied voice whispered to her. Holly hiccupped as she stared, wide-eyed, at the spectre. Rider didn't seem surprised in the slightest to see the woman standing over Holly. "Look at what he's done to you. It's sickening."
She meant Jastrum, right? Then… Was this Olena? Holly opened her mouth to ask, but the words died in her throat each time.
The woman she assumed was Olena just stroked her cheek again and brushed some hair out of her face.
"My sin was hubris," she whispered again. "I thought myself untouchable as a member of the branch Archelots. I thought my work was too important for anyone to stop me. For that, I suffered. But you? What was your sin, aside from being born? No one is born deserving of suffering."
Her mouth didn't move, but there was a conviction on the woman's face as she looked away from Holly. She gave Rider a hard stare, her smile falling, and the disembodied voice whispered once more.
"I'll make him pay, Rider. So you had better bring me to the battlefield when his time comes."
Rider huffed, a half-laugh if Holly ever heard one, and he removed his hand from Holly's back. As the sun disappeared under the horizon in full, the rays of twilight fading with it, the spectre disappeared. The only traces left behind were the biting cold in Holly's cheek and the frost gathered on the path where she'd stood.
Holly looked at Rider, bewildered. Rider just rubbed his chin, thoughtful, and mumbled to himself.
"What a beautiful addition you make to my Wild Hunt, Olena Renard," he mused. "May your hunt be bountiful, once the time comes."