Before I get on with the second chapter, let's get something off my chest. I decided to remove a few elements from the story (like Irisviel getting Command Seals that mark Harry as a Caster, despite not being a Servant) because that'd complicate the story a bit too much. Therefore, I will be editing the first couple of chapters of Ex Umbra in Solem before I post it as a story. However, I'm presenting these chapters as I originally wrote them, pre-editing.

EX UMBRA IN SOLEM

CHAPTER 2:

EXPLANATIONS

They had been left alone in the chapel, save for a few pale-skinned women in maid outfits that Arturia had identified as Homunculi. Harry sat on one of the pews, Arturia next to him, as she toyed with the elaborate scabbard, gold and blue. "After all this time, they found it. Avalon."

"I thought Avalon was a place," Harry muttered, struggling to find a handle on this whole bizarre scenario. After all, he was in what was probably an alternate universe, next to King Arthur, who turned out to be a young woman called Arturia.

"Aye, but it is also this scabbard, the sheathe to Excalibur," Arturia said. She was smiling softly at the sheathe, as if it were an old friend returned to her. Harry guessed it really was. Her face became stern again, though, as she took her invisible sword, and dispelled the air moving around it. A blade seemed to materialise, a golden blade of exquisite beauty. Even the Sword of Godric Gryffindor had nothing on this.

"Is that Excalibur?" Harry breathed, actually awestruck by the beauty of the blade. Harry was surprised that he even had the capacity to feel awe, and yet, Excalibur kindled the dying embers of that emotion in his heart.

"Aye, indeed it is," Arturia said, sliding the famous sword into its sheathe. As it clicked home, she said, "You're no Heroic Spirit. Or rather, you have not manifested as the Heroic Spirit of yourself that resides within the Throne of Heroes."

"What do you mean? Nobody will explain anything. Meaning same shit, different day," Harry said bitterly.

"Temper your vulgar tongue, Harry Potter. I have gone through trials and travails as you have, but I rarely succumb to the urge to emit vicious oaths."

"You're not my mother," Harry retorted.

Arturia refrained from her own retort. Eventually, she said, "I wish Merlin could help. He was a better teacher than I. Where should I begin?" Closing her eyes, sighing, she said, quietly, "Two centuries ago, a triumvirate of Magi families united with a common goal. They intended to manifest an artifact known as the Holy Grail. Not in of itself the holy cup said to have been Christ's drinking vessel, but rather, an artifact with a connection to Akasha, the Root of All Things. A noosphere where all that is, was, and will be is recorded. It will grant a single wish to someone…but only one person. Thus, the Grail Wars were set up by those three families: the von Einzberns of Germany, the Makiris of Russia, and the Tohsakas of Japan."

That awoke a desire in Harry. "A single wish, given to the victor?"

"Aye. Seven Masters are chosen by the Grail to compete in each war, each in charge of seven Heroic Spirits known as Servants. These Heroic Spirits, under normal circumstances, are summoned from the Throne of Heroes, where the spirits of those noted to humanity reside," Arturia said. "Each belongs to a certain class."

"Is that what you meant when you called yourself Saber earlier?" Harry asked. "Because you wield a sword?"

"Aye. You were thought to be a Caster, a user of magic, one of the weaker classes, but skilled in shaping territory to their advantage. Lancers are wielders of spears, Archers use ranged attacks. Riders are those Heroic Spirits known for their mounts, steeds or vehicles and are counted amongst the most alacritous of Servants. Berserkers trade their sanity and reason for sheer strength and power. Finally, the Assassins use stealth and base tactics to slay their foes, often by targeting Masters. If a Master dies, the Servant will not last long, for we Servants are dependent on energy supplied from our Masters to remain in this world."

"And people die in this?"

"It is called a war, Harry," Arturia said. "People die in war. And for such a powerful wish, people are willing to kill. Would you not be willing?"

Harry pursed his lips. A second chance, a chance to correct the mistakes of the last nine years of his life…yes, he would be willing to kill. Or at least try to get to the top of the tree. It depended on his opponents.

As if sensing his thoughts, Arturia said, almost gently, "Your magic, and that of this world, are very different. Although magic is still hidden here, it is mostly a different form of magic, known as magecraft. I know not the full details: Merlin had mastered magic of many kinds, including that which is common on your world, and much of his explanation confused me. However, I have some small magic ability, of a similar ilk to you, in that we have cores that act as reservoirs of energy. Magi of this world, however, have Magic Circuits, to channel it, partly drawn from the natural energy of the world. And Magi…well, they are somewhat…amoral. Many would certainly not hesitate to kill or torture in the name of their research."

"Horrible," Harry muttered.

"I am heartened that you believe this to be so," Arturia said. "I only know the difference because I need to know of Heroic Spirits who are in the Throne of Heroes. You, I have heard, are one of them."

"I'm no hero. Just a stupid little boy who learned he was the messiah of Magical Britain, only to get royally reamed by life. My friends are dead, and the few survivors of my enemies chucked me through the Veil of Death."

"Succinct," Arturia said dryly, though not without sympathy. "However, you have been drawn into the Grail War. Whether you are a true Servant or not, it matters little."

"Oh, marvellous…"

Jubstacheit von Einzbern, usually known in his family as Old Man Acht, was not a pleasant man by any means. Well, he was a Magus after all. He was also paranoid up the wazoo, a very painful place to have paranoia. So when he heard that an unexpected person had ended up in the summoning circle meant to conjure up King Arthur, well, his first impulse was to consider killing him for having the impudence to breach so many Bounded Fields, which protected his castle and his family from enemies. His second impulse was to consider using the intruder as research material, that is, as an experimental subject.

Even so, he listened to Kiritsugu and Irisviel's account of what happened very closely. Acht was an intelligent and prudent man, and he could sense opportunity. It was, after all, the only reason he had tolerated Kiritsugu Emiya marrying the Homunculus who would become the Lesser Grail. After all, one did not reach an age he never disclosed to outsiders (but which could be measured in excess of a century, thanks to alchemy) by acting hastily.

After they had finished, the old man pondered what he was told. Eventually, he said, "While I am hesitant to do so, I want to consult with the one man who could confirm your Servant's words and the intruder's story."

Kiritsugu was no fool. He knew what was coming. "Zelretch?"

"Zelretch," Acht conceded reluctantly.

Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg. Better known by his peers (such as they were), victims (of which there were a great number), and Magi in general as Zelretch. Master of the Second True Magic, Kaleidoscope, involving travel to parallel worlds and alternate timelines. The Fourth Dead Apostle Ancestor (or a powerful master vampire, for those preferring less pretentious titles). And inveterate gadfly and prankster who had a bad habit of putting any apprentices he had through the wringer.

"I guess that means we'll have to contact Clock Tower," Kiritsugu said quietly, with the air of a prophet solemnly declaring the end of the world…

Arturia was good company, Harry reflected, for a warrior queen masquerading as a warrior king. True, she had this annoyingly Hermione-like tendency to chide him for bad language or manners, and a haughty air that Malfoys aspired to, and there was a slight detachment to her, a distance that Harry supposed was that between a monarch and a commoner. And yet, she certainly didn't mock him or demean him. If anything, it was the air of a commanding officer being nice to a soldier, or perhaps a distant mother trying to help a distressed child.

She also answered his questions quite readily, with no bragging or boasting. He decided to avoid some of the more painful parts of the Arthurian Myth (that he knew of, anyway: he didn't really know much about it), but asked about whether Guinevere knew about Arthur being Arturia. Apparently, Guinevere and Merlin were the only ones who knew…and Merlin turned Arturia into a man for a while to bed Guinevere, to produce heirs. This was apparently how Mordred was conceived: not with Guinevere, but apparently Arturia, when a man, produced viable seed, and Morgan le Fay used that seed to create a Homunculus that, like Arturia, was a male in history's page, but was actually a girl.

Arturia also told Harry about the nature of Servants. He had to wonder at the weird name they had for their special weapons and techniques. Noble Phantasms. Servants always had at least one, though Servants with multiple Noble Phantasms, like Arturia had, were not unheard of. She had Excalibur and Avalon, and the Invisible Air that concealed Excalibur's blade counted as one too. And, apparently, once Excalibur was charged in the right way, it could unleash a blast of energy of awe-inspiring power.

"Of course, we Servants can be identified readily by our Noble Phantasms," Arturia said. "That is why we are usually addressed by our class, so should you accompany us, please call me Saber in public. To identify myself too readily as King Arthur would be to also give enemies opportunity to devise countermeasures, and exploit weaknesses."

"Okay, I get that," Harry said. "I mean, let's face it, if you said you wield Excalibur, there's a fair chance you are Arthur. Arturia. Whatever. I'm still getting used to that."

"I dare say you would," Arturia observed dryly. "You do not think any less of me, knowing that I am a woman?"

"Of course not! If anything, I find it even more admirable," Harry said. He then looked down. "And you achieved more than I ever did in my life. All I got was a pyrrhic victory."

"Ah. So you are one of the unluckier iterations of Harry Potter."

The voice was deep and resonant, with an amused lilt to it. Harry whirled in his seat to find the maids letting someone by them, Kiritsugu and Irisviel accompanying him. The man was old, but indeterminately so, his hair and beard grey rather than white, framing a square face that seemed to smirk, his red eyes twinkling in amusement. Like Dumbledore's, only without pretence.

Arturia frowned. "Master? Why is there a Dead Apostle here?"

"Stand down, Saber," Kiritsugu said sternly. "Zelretch is…friendly. For a given value of friendly."

"A tactful way of putting it," Zelretch said with a chuckle. "I heard of this interesting case, and used Kaleidoscope to make it here posthaste."

"Dead Apostle?" Harry asked.

"In more mundane terms, I am a vampire, Harry Potter," Zelretch said with a smile. "I am also a Magus of considerable knowledge about parallel worlds. That is how I know of your existence. In this world, magic works very differently. Some of the magic you are capable of would be miraculous here, and some here would be considered impossible in your home worlds. I know of you because your life is…interesting. Why, one of your alternates became an adopted grandson of one of my alternates. And I can tell that you're one of the more interesting versions. I know that chief amongst your questions is 'Zelretch, can you get me home?' To which I must ask you one of my own: do you want to?"

Harry's questions were forestalled by that. In truth, he didn't want to go back. Not yet. "Not without some means to change what happened."

"The Grail," Saber said, speaking the thoughts on everyone's minds.

"Maybe. I dunno."

Zelretch smiled. "Then I wish you the best of luck. I'll go and pay my respects to Old Man Acht."

"How?" Irisviel asked, concerned. After all, Zelretch tended to prank people whenever he 'paid his respects'.

Zelretch's smile merely widened. "Need to know basis. It was nice meeting you all."

As he left, Kiritsugu, shakily, took a cigarette and lit it. After a few seconds, it exploded, leaving Kiritsugu stunned. "By the way, those things will kill you!" Zelretch's voice echoed from outside the chamber, before laughing.

After a moment, Kiritsugu exhaled. "Iri, I'll leave this to you. I've got preparations to make." And with that, the man left the chapel.

"Sorry," Irisviel said with a smile. "I guess if Zelretch has given you the okay, you'll be accepted here. Welcome to von Einzbern Castle, both of you."

The greeting was warm enough, but Harry felt a chill go down his spine, knowing some intractable destiny had got a hold of him once more. Time would tell if that would lead anywhere good, though if past experience was any indication, it wouldn't be…

CHAPTER 2 ANNOTATIONS:

So, Harry's up to speed a bit more, and the von Einzberns will be, albeit reluctantly (save for Irisviel) allowing Harry to stay. We'll have a bit more of Kiritsugu and Irisviel interacting with Harry, along with Illya making an appearance.

No numbered annotations this time.