AN: Next Update is Fate Grand Cuck
Under the auspices of the UN, Chaldea had unique territorial rights to Antarctica, where its headquarters were located.
In terms of logistics and accessibility, it was definitely in the top five worst places, but Marisbury probably wanted to discourage the Clock Tower mages from poking their noses into his affairs.
From the Animusphere family's private jet, specially equipped to make such flights, Shirou looked out the window and was greeted only by a heavy snowstorm that would have been the death of any other aircraft.
"Not the best weather for flying," the freelancer commented. "How much magical energy does that Bounded Field consume?"
"You can sense it from this distance?" Marisbury's voice was surprised, mixed with a hint of admiration. "I must say, your sensory skills are truly impressive."
"Nothing special, I'm just good at Bounded Field's Theory." Shirou shrugged.
"The mountain range where the base is located is hidden by an endless snowstorm created by a single Bounded Field. In addition, Chaldea is protected by a special magnetic field. All of this is powered by a reactor called the [Prometheus Fire]." Marisbury explained.
"What a funny name. The people of Fuyuki would be happy to hear that." The man snorted with a hint of sarcasm, refusing the wine offered by the flight attendant with a hand gesture.
After a while, the plane landed on a special platform and the crew commander informed them through the flight attendant that they could disembark. Marisbury and Beryl began to put on special white fur coats with the branded "C" symbol.
"Shirou-kun, I suggest you get dressed. Maybe now that we're inside the Bounded Field, the blizzard is over, the temperature and local climate are still very harsh." Marisbury said, looking at the freelancer with some skepticism, who simply smoothed out the folds of her red scarf.
"Boss has a point. I understand that you want to maintain the image of a cool and stylish guy, but lying in the infirmary with that third-rate doctor is not the most pleasant thing to do." Beryl chuckled, throwing a fur hood over his head.
"My clothes are a [Mystic Code] that protects me from the outside environment. Be it the heat of the desert, the cold of the arctic tundra, or the ocean of ancient curses, I'll be fine." Shirou replied, receiving a couple of admiring glances in return.
[Red Plain Mystic Code] was actually a Conceptual Weapon, Holy Shroud, which was the burial cloth of an unknown saint.
Shirou received it as a gift from his lovers from the Church, with whom he once had a love affair. A strange woman. She always ate curry, complained about the Dead Apostles, and asked him if he wanted to dye his hair black.
Shroud did not have any strong properties, but it was perfect for the specific area and mission he was participating in. All kinds of curses usually originated from the Middle East, and a Shroud was an indispensable item there.
As for his black armor, he used that guy's clothes as a basis, which were made from a special material that had not yet been discovered by mankind.
Of course, durability was no match for the power of Noble Phantasms, but he had no intention of fighting against Heroic Spirits. Otherwise, it was superior to the Kevlar cassocks of the Church [Executors].
Descending the ramp, Shirou was presented with a view of the vast icy expanses of Antarctica, no longer hidden by the snowstorm. The sight of the snow-capped peaks, 6,000 meters above sea level, was truly breathtaking and striking.
After the golden sands of the desert and the green jungles of the Amazon, it was a pleasant change of perspective. In its architecture, the Chaldea's headquarters resembled more of a military base, part of which was located inside a huge mountain.
However, even such a beautiful white color could not hide the darkness of Chaldea that only a few knew about. From that point of view, there was a certain irony in the choice of the location of the headquarters.
"A place that embodies humanity's darkest and most shameful desires for greatness was built in a place where human's greed had yet to bring destruction." Shirou muttered quietly to himself as he followed his companions.
According to Marisbury, Chaldea's security system was one of the best in the world, but it did not react to Shirou himself because he had been entered into the database beforehand.
It became clear that he had no choice in the matter from the start, since [Alaya] had decided to involve him in this. They went inside and Marisbury gave him a brief instructions, also giving him a key card for his room and a Chaldeapad, a special product of Chaldea that was used in place of a regular smartphone.
"You'll be given a tour tomorrow, but for now you should rest in your room after your long flight," Marisbury said softly. "Beryl will escort you to your room."
"The rooms aren't the best quality, hardly comparable to your old royal mansion." Beryl smirked.
"As long as it's not a hollow tree, I'm fine with that," Shirou replied, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "And I have a feeling this guy is going to take me to the detention room, so I'll figure it out myself."
After that, he went to find his room using the built-in navigation app. Chaldeapad was really a handy thing.
Once he got to the right room, Shirou took the key card out of his pocket and swiped it, causing the door to open automatically. Taking off his outerwear, the freelancer stretched out on the soft feather bed and fell asleep, setting an alarm to make sure he didn't miss dinner.
The sound of his alarm woke him up and Shirou slid his finger across the screen of his phone, turning it off. After making sure he hadn't missed any important messages, he got out of bed and stretched.
After the uncomfortable piece of cold metal generously provided by the prison administration, the soft feather bed felt like manna from heaven. Shirou's gaze fell on the small refrigerator and curiosity piqued.
"Huh, 'Hotel Chaldea' deserves two stars out of five from me."
Finding nothing inside except a couple of plastic bottles of soda, Shirou closed the door with some disappointment, feeling his stomach growl as he did so.
Well, as they say, hunger is the enemy.
The man picked up his scarf and activated his magic circuits. It changed the structure of the shroud and turned it into a thick red hoodie with a white Catholic cross in the middle.
Shirou wasn't a religious person, but he liked the design of the hoodie that Rin Tonsaka had once worn and took it as a reference. Wearing the symbols of the Holy Church in a place under the Mage's Association wasn't the best idea, but he was curious to see the reactions of the Chaldea staff.
Besides, it wasn't like there was any hidden meaning to it. Most of the Clock Tower's mages lived in either Catholic or Protestant countries, and some families like the Tohsaka or Goodfellow had good relations with both organizations.
Shirou pulled on his hoodie and his hands instinctively moved to pull the hood over his head before stopping. Marisbury's words about taking care of his problem came to mind.
[Alaya] or [Moon Cell] could also intervene and change people's perceptions so that no one would shy away from an international criminal wanted by Interpol and The Hague.
However, Shirou was too familiar with Marisbury and therefore expected some kind of trick from him. Pulling his hood up just in case, the man left his room.
After swiping the keycard on the door lock, Shirou closed the door and put it back in the pocket of his army pants, which he now shaped into cargo pants.
At some point in his travels, Shirou noticed that it was much more convenient to create clothes using [Projection] or [Alteration]. Due to the fact that the junk in his shed was still there despite the many years that had passed, he realized that [Gaia] generally didn't care about his projections.
As long as he didn't dispel them himself, they would continue to exist in this world. During his travels in the Middle East, many people were surprised that he always carried only a small travel bag.
Well, all the necessary household items he always simply created using magecraft, so there was no reason to carry them around. There was no need to wash dishes, and clothes. In the deserts, where finding an oasis was a real miracle, this was a blessing.
Besides, it was a good training.
Using the built-in navigation app, Shirou found himself inside a spacious cafeteria after fifteen minutes of walking. Dozens of people were sitting on white chairs, clanking forks and spoons, discussing something intensely.
He was impressed by the cultural diversity. Chaldea was supported by the UN and the doors of the organization were open to everyone, regardless of their gender, status, religion or age.
The main language of communication was English, but he overheard complaints in Indian. It seemed that someone didn't like the beef stew next to the rice.
Well, you can't please everyone.
Chaldea had an open buffet, but he had to wait for the line to disperse before he could get to the food. The smell was pleasant, and the quality was on par with the best restaurants in the world.
Surprisingly, the vegetables and fruits seemed very fresh, as if they had just been picked from the garden. Chaldea was located in a rather hard-to-reach place, so Shirou assumed that there was some kind of greenhouse here to provide some autonomy if there was a problem with food delivery.
Having filled his tray with various foods, Shirou, ignoring the surprised looks, began to look around in search of an empty place. He did not consider himself a gourmet, but he had learned well the rule that a battle cannot be won on an empty stomach.
So yes, he was quite gluttonous. It just did not seem so obvious compared to some other people. But his own motto was that someone who does not have the stomach to digest breakfast is a failure as martial artists.
Besides, he really wanted to eat normal food after the disgusting prison gruel. He had no doubt that even if he took advantage of the right to the last meal before execution, he would only get another portion of an incomprehensible liquid, which could be used to seal holes in the walls.
"Oh, here it is…"
Shirou noticed a free table in the corner and moved towards it. As he approached, the conversations around him died down, and he caught surprised glances, which this time were not related to the abundance of food on his tray. It was not difficult for Shirou to guess what the reason was.
Or rather, who.
There was only one person sitting at this table, a young woman with long brown hair, braided into two ponytails. Her pretty face was framed by round glasses with a metal frame, giving her the appearance of a bookworm and a quiet person.
The white coat with many buttons and an emblem in the form of the Chaldea logo was very large and completely hid her figure, but he could see a baggy brown sweater peeking out from under it.
The whispers of onlookers soon turned into silence when Shirou unceremoniously sat down opposite the woman and, rolling up his sleeves, began to eat. The brown haired ignored him for a moment, but then her brown eyes tore away from her book and stared at him. Shirou noticed a flash of irritation mixed with slight contempt in them.
"I didn't give you permission to sit here." she said coldly.
"This is the only empty seat and I don't see your name tag here, missy." Shirou chuckled, twirling his spaghetti around his fork.
She looked at him as if he had grown a second head. The freelancer heard someone gasp behind them. Now that he thought about it, it seemed odd that the other customers had chosen to huddle together when there was an entire table available.
Was it this woman? Sure, she was cute, if he were younger, he would probably have steam coming out of his ears trying to talk to her. But he wasn't that naive boy anymore.
"You're disturbing my reading."
For some reason, that sounded like a death sentence coming from her. Shirou swore he heard several of the other patrons in the cafeteria start praying to every god they knew for the repose of his soul. Such good people.
"There are better places to read. Like the library or the lounge. You wouldn't want your book to get dirty, would you?"
Shirou spun his fork sharply, causing a few drops of sauce to fly off the ends of his spaghetti towards the girl. She instantly leaned back, clutching the book to her chest and let out a sigh of relief when the drops simply smeared the surface of the table before they reached her.
"Oops, sorry, my finger slipped," the man smiled, holding out his hand with a napkin and wiping the surface of the table. "See? That's what I was saying. You should be careful reading books in the kitchen."
If looks could kill, he would surely be dead by now. Shirou felt a murderous bloodlust directed towards him. The woman's brow furrowed and she clenched her fang-like teeth.
Ignoring this, freelancer threw the stained napkin over his shoulder without looking back. A surprised exclamation from behind him signaled that it had gone straight into the trash. Shirou turned his attention to the girl's tray.
A mug with green droplets on the walls and a small plate with the remains of rice cookies. Seriously, what was stopping her from just grabbing a bite somewhere else? Was everyone at Chaldea this weird?
Oh yeah, they hired Gut.
Shirou continued eating his food in silence, noticing that after a while the pressure disappeared, replaced by what he assumed was curiosity. Well, the kind of curiosity that children have when they look at strange insects under their feet.
"I won't share with you."
"Huh? W-what?" the brown-haired woman raised her voice, which now sounded displeased and indignant. "I don't need your food, idiot!"
"Really? Then, good for me. Yam-yam." Shirou didn't bother to hold back a burp.
"You… You just… Argh, you're disgusting," the woman winced, looking at him like he was an ant. "Don't you have any manners?"
"Sorry, missy, my roommates for the last few months have been prison rats, not the most gentlemanly company," he shrugged lazily. "No matter how much I tried to instill some etiquette in them, Mr. Ratata hasn't changed his mind about cheese only being eaten when it's been lying on the floor for a while."
The woman gave him a blank look, snorting contemptuously. For a moment, Shirou thought she was going to leave, but instead she simply moved to the side and went back to her task.
There was silence between them for a while, broken only by the clink of cutlery. The freelancer, whose face was hidden by the hood, noticed how the woman occasionally cast sideways glances at him, never lingering for more than a few seconds.
"If I have a grain of rice on my cheek, you should tell me straight out. Staring at another person while eating is impolite," the corners of his lips stretched into a cheerful smile. "Otherwise, I might think you want my steak."
The woman rolled her eyes and slammed the book shut, putting it aside and focusing her attention on him. History of China during Three Kingdoms period? What an interesting choice.
"Judging by your clothes and behavior, you are not an ordinary employee of Chaldea. Who are you?"
It was not a question, but a direct order that left no room for objection. This woman was probably some kind of employee with a special status, since the main reason for her question was curiosity about their interaction.
"You can call me Shirou. To be honest, I myself don't know my status and position yet, since Marisbury didn't see fit to inform me." freelancer replied.
"Did the Director personally bring you here?" the woman frowned, and there was a distinct sense of distrust in her voice.
"Coming from your lips, it seems like something strange."
Judging by her expression and the fact that she had gone silent, this was indeed something out of the ordinary. Should he feel flattered?
Somehow, freelancer didn't feel like he had any special privileges. However, this was also [Alaya's] demand. There was little he could do about this entity.
Shirou assumed that Marisbury would be in the middle of something in the future, and then he would have to intervene. Direct orders from [Alaya] were always harbingers of great disasters.
All he could do was simply wait for the hour X, not knowing when and under what circumstances it would arrive. Until then, he was going to enjoy a quiet life, since trying to interfere in any way would not lead to anything good.
"By the way, what is your name?" his question made the woman tear herself away from her thoughts. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not insisting, but in that case, I'll have to figure out how to address you myself. Hm… How about…"
"Hinako," she said, cutting the freelancer off mid-sentence, not wanting to wait for him to come up with something she'd find outrageous. "Hinako Akuta. Deputy head of the technical department. Although I doubt that we'll ever cross paths again."
"I wouldn't rush to make such statements. We Japanese should stick together, shouldn't we?"
"I don't see any sincerity in what you're saying, and besides, we're not in the Clock Tower," Hinako snapped coldly. "One of the good things about Chaldea is that there's no racism here and the people are much more understanding. Find someone else to listen to all that nonsense that comes out of your mouth."
"Wow, that's… Kinda harsh. At least you're still a better conversationalist than Beryl."
The mention of the name of a notorious assassin (in certain circles) was somewhat surprising, judging by the way her eyes widened. But before she could say anything, another tray landed on the table with a loud thud.
"Sup," Beryl Gut grinned, lounging in his chair. "You're looking good, Akuto. New glasses?"
"Speak of the devil, and he will appear." Shirou said sardonically.
"So, what were you two talking about? About the magnificent me?"
"Never mind, I'm leaving."
Hinako picked up her book and left, leaving them alone together. Freelancer looked at her retreating back, then at the tray she'd left behind. It seemed to him that this was a self-service cafeteria.
"Is she always like this?" Shirou asked, pointing a finger at Hinako as she walked away.
"Only on days of the week that start with a consonant."
"Sweet."
"So… I heard you slept with the Queen," Beryl smirked, baring his fangs. "How's she in bed? Like it rough? I bet that whip isn't just for show."
"It's just a rumor. People like to exaggerate things and pass of wishful thinking as reality." Shirou calmly replied.
Of course, he didn't mention that due to her policy of racial superiority, Lorelei Bartolomei was, how to put it mildly... With a big stick up her ass.
Women are emotional creatures and having a lot of power in their hands, coupled with sexual frustration, multiplied by a truly inflated ego, has never led to anything good.
"Really? Rumors about it even reached me. You know what they say, there's some truth in every joke."
"You're surprisingly interested in my personal life. Should I be worried?"
"There's nothing wrong with wanting to get to know your idol better."
"That's what all the crazy fangirls say. Stalkers are evil," Shirou snorted, poking his fork at the man. "Aren't you supposed to be guarding Marisbury's ass anyway?"
"Aren't you supposed to be rotting two meters under water right now?"
"Exactly."
"You really have a funny sense of humor!" Beryl leaned on his left hand.
There was silence between them for a while, but then the dark-haired man broke it with his question.
"The incident with Mary of July and Poppins of July… Did those of yours really destroy the top of the London Tower?"
"Not exactly. At some point, the local guard showed up, and then…"
He and Beryl traded various stories for a while. Both freelancers often traveled around the world, so they had quite a few such stories.
After exchanging contact information on ChaldeaPad, they parted ways and Shirou headed to his room. He spent the rest of the day studying various documents and reference information.
The next morning, it wasn't the alarm clock that woke him up, but the doorbell. It must have been the guide assigned by Marisbury. Shirou stood up, pressed the button, and the door opened, but to his surprise, he found no one there.
"Mister, I'm here." a timid voice came from somewhere below.
Shirou lowered his head, and his mouth fell open like a fish. In front of him stood a girl of about ten years old, with short lilac hair, lavender eyes, and fair skin, wearing only a long hospital gown, as if she had just been to a doctor's office.
"My name is Mash Kyrielight, pleased to meet you, Mister Emiya." the girl said politely, bowing slightly.
"What the… Who are you?"
"Hm? I just introduced myself," the girl tilted her head to the side in confusion, looking absolutely adorable in her innocence. "Should I repeat that?"
"No, I heard your name. I meant, what are you doing here?"
"Shouldn't you have phrased your question differently then?"
Shirou felt a migraine rising in his head. The girl wasn't being rude or making fun of him. There was no malicious intent in her words. She just... She genuinely didn't understand him.
"Marisbury sent you."
"If you know, then why are you asking?"
Oh, for the gods's sake!
"It doesn't matter. If that weirdo sent you, he has confidence in your ability to accomplish the task at hand. And while I certainly have questions about his method of selecting personnel, I'll choose to ignore them for the sake of my own mental stability," Shirou grumbled, massaging the bridge of his nose. "But what's wrong with your clothes?"
Mash looked down at the hem of her hospital gown, then looked at him with confusion. He could see a large question mark appearing above her head.
"Is there something wrong with it?"
Those words were enough to understand the depth of the problem. What the hell was Marisbury thinking? Oh yeah, probably his 'great' plans to turn humanity into the most powerful species.
"Yeah, there's obviously many wrong things with it. I'd feel really bad forcing a girl in a hospital gown to walk around Chaldea and show me the local sights."
Was Mash some kind of special patient, and if so, where were her parents or at least guardians? Chaldea wasn't the most favorable place for children her age.
"I don't have any other clothes."
Huh?
"Oh, you can't be serious… Sigh… Fine, come here…" his face met his palm as Shirou slumped his shoulders, accepting his fate.
"Dr. Roman told me not to enter other people's rooms when some strange man asks me to."
"You know my name, and I know yours. See? We're not strangers," freelancer tried to grab Mash's hand, but she pulled back, looking at him with apprehension.
His eyebrow twitched at that. Shirou moved forward sharply and managed to grab the girl's hand. He had to control his strength so as not to hurt her.
"Mr. Emiya, what are your intentions towards me?"
"I'm going to replace this hospital gown with something more suitable, whether you like it or not."
"Do you enjoy dressing up little girls?"
"Stop struggling, I assure you'll enjoy it!" Shirou said, then blinked, realizing what he had just said. "Wait, hold on, that sounded so wrong on so many levels. I just want to…"
"Get your hands off her, you, sick pervert!"
Wait, what?
The last thing he saw was a red and black gob of gandr flying towards his face, and a flash of white hair and amber eyes, blazing with righteous anger.
Fuck you, Marsibury…
AN:
Uh, long time no see or something. The promised chapter of Nameless Order is here. The next one will be out indefinitely.
My plans for March are a few chapters of the rewritten version of Fate Grand Cuck and a couple of other works, so the next chapter of Nameless Order will probably be out in a month or so.
I have a lot to do IRL, since I need to prepare a presentation for an academic conference, as well as find the right time to talk to my boss about a raise.
But I'll definitely try to stay on the radar.
As for the notes for the chapter itself:
1) Hinako was a technician before she became a Crypter
2) Team A is still in the process of being formed, since Daybit will join shortly before Marisbury's death
I also decided to abandon the idea of editing Shirou's speech because it's the pain in the ass =/