Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Was it King's fault that he failed to consider that a Servant might just come out of the gate as their first opponent?

An astute question, one he'd be glad to mull about if it wasn't for the elemental Magecraft said Servant was hailing down on their asses.

King's eyes flickered left and right, but his body stayed still as stone. His Servants––Jean, d'Eon, and Leonidas––were getting the brunt of the onslaught, each managing the Magecraft in their own ways. His very human, very not–superhuman–beings soldiers on the other hand had a lighter load, just enough for them to push back with their whole weight against their shields. All inside a fortress made with walls of fire, trapping them with their enemy.

It seemed almost by design.

But why?

"You're an interesting one, Chaldean Master," came the voice of the Caster. "It has been some five minutes since I started, and you have yet to move even a single inch."

King closed his eyes and bit back a wince. True, he had not moved at all while

The truth, as usual, was that his body was literally frozen from fear.

THUMP THUMP THUMP

"Well, your heart is certainly not as quiet as you are. Are you scared?" The Caster cocked an eyebrow, and The Engine skipped a beat. "…No, obviously not. You are excited, thrilled even now. You types are incorrigible…"

If King's hand could phase through his flesh and bone and squash his heart right then and there, he would.

"Hahaha!" Another voice, belonging to an invisible man, guffawed. He was somewhere in the Caster's direction, behind him probably. "What an amusing guy, eh, Caster? Why don't you cut him some slack?"

"Against an opponent of this caliber? It would be unwise, my King."

"Fair enough. At least leave some of him for me, eh? Hahaha!"

"Partner, do something!" Jean hissed at him, looking at the end of her ropes as sharp blades of wind tore through her flag, some inflicting incisions on her open face.

Do what?! He wanted to shout back. But even now, the ever creeping dread that was his best friend and worst enemy remained, telling him Do not reveal your identity, EVER. And like the coward he was, he obliged it. So there he stood still, unmoved even as the walls of fire began to close, and with it the distance between them and the two.

Eyes were boring into him from all around. It was just like back home, but without the visual novels or the animes or the privacy. Like being a fraud was all that he was. The sweltering heat was unbearable. Was it the wall of flames or the intangible pressure? Did it fucking matter?

"Hm?" came the voice of the other man––a Servant too, probably. "He's still not moving. Hey, Caster, you're some sort of tactician, ain't you? What's he doing?"

Caster's eyes narrowed. "Patience, my King. We will see in a bit."

Well, that's just great. Even the enemy is putting on the pressure for him to do something. And they would be better off if he didn't! Was this some sick joke he wasn't in on?!

"Boys…" Marcus whispered to the other soldiers, low but enough to be heard by King. "It was an honor."

So they've given up… Not that he blamed them. He would give up to if he was his own commander—the only difference was that he would do it earlier, the moment he knew.

King's eyes darted left and right. The fire wall made him forget where they even were. Let's see… They were halfway towards their first checkpoint in their journey, the town of Mediolanum where they would rendezvous with Ritsuka's group, when suddenly the entire Earth seemed to turn on them. His first thought was that this Earth was an ungrateful bastard. Here they were risking their asses to save it and it hit them with natural disasters. Tatsumaki was less rude of a person that this Earth.

That was, until the Caster revealed himself. He did a small apology to this world's Earth, amidst all the silent screaming.

So here they were, not even halfway to the first checkpoint and already ambushed by two Servants. The men Nero trusted him with were starting to give up, and if he continued to do nothing, his Servants would eventually buckle too.

Were they about to be cooked in the metaphorical and literal oven? Was there no way out?

…Not quite. There was one.

Like hell he was brave enough to take it, though.

"Master? What are you doing?"

Or so he thought.

It was quiet all of a sudden

King thought he had gone mad, but not because of the sudden silence, oh no, that silence was very much real. The fires died down, the wind and the water and the earth stopped assaulting them, and all the fighting had gone into mutters.

He must be going mad he thought, as his right foot overtook the left, then vice versa, until he fell into a smooth walking motion.

It wasn't him that did any of these of course; it was the pressure that mounted behind him.

"What the hell…?" Marcus lowered his shield, taking in the brief reprieve amidst the confusion. "Hey, do any of you know what he's doing? He some type of crazy noble?"

"The King is moving ahead of the other pieces," d'Eon muttered. "Master, what…?"

"Master!" Leonidas shouted, body moving forward but feet rooted.

"That…! I'm so gonna bitch his ear off when he comes back!" Jean stomped her feet, but otherwise remained still. She still believed in him, even in this situation.

On the opposite side, the two Servants seemed to stop their assault and stayed still, waiting for him.

Waiting to kill me, I guess. And he was just handing his head on a silver platter.

All because he couldn't handle the pressure of expectation.

In lieu of anything else he could do as he finished the tenth step out of some fifty, he took a look at the other Servant. The word that came to mind was huge—and more than just his stature. A red hair and mane framed his rugged complexion as he lifted an eyebrow at King. On his body was bronze and gold armor, adorned with a red cape that screamed sovereignty. Not royalty, this aura was not given by blood, but earned through will. This, somehow, King perceived from a simple glance at the Servant. It didn't feel like it was his observational skill though, more like this was simply the effect the man had on people.

In other words, King was fucked.

A literal king and a tactician, against a fake King with no tactics.

What a collision it would be.

What was at the end of this hundred meter marathon, King wondered. His face was steel, but inside he was thinking of the many ways this could end badly. The fires sure looked hot, maybe the Caster will simply cook him alive, or maybe bury him under the earth, or just plain old drowning. Hell, maybe the king dude will give him the honors instead.

Whatever might be the outcome, he didn't stop walking towards them.

For what it was worth, he didn't know how to drop the act.

And probably, he never will.

Waver Velvet, more often called by his title: Lord El Melloi II, was no stranger to mockeries and taunts.

Even so, he had not seen one as brazen as this in quite a while.

Truthfully, he was neither Waver nor El Melloi in this very moment. He was simply 'Caster' here, a Servant summoned to do his Master's bidding. And to that end, he had been made a vessel, a conduit, for one of the great strategists of the Three Kingdoms: Zhuge Liang.

He would've preferred the bastard actually take some damn command over his body though, rather than just dump his Noble Phantasm and Magecraft in him and call it a day.

Because then maybe he would know what to do in this situation.

"Hey, Caster…" His companion, the great king Iskandar, leaned to him. "What's he doing?"

Waver cocked an eyebrow. "You think I'd know?"

"Well you're the strategist between us!" he chuckled.

Despite himself, Waver couldn't help but share in the chuckle. He was still smitten, even with the uncrossable distance of their existences as Servants between them. "I have a guess, but it's not a pleasant one."

"Out with it then."

"It is… mockery."

"Mockery?"

There was little doubt in Waver's mind. The man in front of him, King, one of Chaldea's Masters, had indulged him the sincerest form of flattery. A twist on Zhuge Liang's famous antics at Xicheng: The Empty Fort Strategy. It was, to put bluntly a message: I know who you are. In a battle of Servants, knowing your opponent's true name was half the battle.

But was Waver willing to put the other half on a gamble?

"Indeed," Waver said. "This is one of my own strategies, you see. A declaration that he knows who I am—and likely you as well."

"Ha, Bold! I like it!"

"That's just half of the story. The other half, I suppose we're about to see." Mockery was nice and all, but what was to be done with the other half of the move, i.e. the outcome when he reached them?

To use one of Zhuge Liang's most famous stratagem against him… How shrewd. Was it a bluff, or a true application of his own namesake's brilliance? Perhaps somewhere in the middle? Whatever the truth was, Waver realized, this 'King' had managed to make him stop his attacks, if only just for a moment. A moment that was growing by the second, fueled by his own indecisiveness, and with each of those seconds, the sand in the hourglass turned the other way for the man's Servants.

And yet to make his own move would be to fall to his own trickery.

Zugzwang, is it? Maybe he really had underestimated him. How careless.

After all, in the half a minute Waver had internalized him, King had yet to pause even for a moment.

The other half of the minute, Waver elected to simply watch. Until, without fanfare, King came to a stop only because there was no more room to step forward. They were close enough to strike a casual conversation now, though he doubted that was what King was here for.

Waver's eyes rocked up and down, taking in the man called King. He had heard many things from his Master, who in turn heard those many things from another, reliable source.

He is shrouded in mystery, in more than one way. He has yet to show a fraction of his own power. He plans like he can see the future. And so on and so forth.

Yet, the man in front of him bore nothing of the sort.

On the surface, King was the very definition of confidence. Under that surface, the cracks became apparent. If anything, the man in front of him felt more like a powerless, scared, clueless whelp.

And yet, it all might just be part of the charade.

Mana could be suppressed, facial muscles could be controlled, and with enough attention even smaller details like gait, sweat, and eye twitches could all be faked. But why go through all that trouble when only at this distance, with Waver's watchful eye, could it all be seen?

Occam's Razor would eliminate the possibility that the man who so easily turned the tides of a country in a closely monitored Singularity was a fake. This was only the possibility left: King wore a charade of pure confidence, underneath was a trembling wreck.

That, too, was a charade.

And perhaps underneath that, another charade. Endless to conceal the 'True' King.

It was simply frightening.

Even then, the matter at hand was unrelated to the pure enigma before him, only his action.

Waver was still sure—ninety-nine percent sure—that this was a bluff.

There was just one inkling, one that made that one percent grew decimals, as if a million digits despite being 'one'.

That man, King,he remembered his Master telling him, I was told that he had yet to use his Magecraft. Not a single time during the First Singularity did he use it.

Say that it really was all a bluff, should Waver see through it and retaliate, who's to say that King could not retaliate back. He took back the zugzwang thought. Even passing would be a critical mistake now.

Suddenly, he felt something wet come down his cheek. It wasn't the heat from his own Magecraft. A difficult lump forced its way down his throat.

It was time to resign.

"Hmph." He swung his hand down, along with the magecraft, eliciting gasps from his enemy's Servants and soldiers, returning them to the benign forests of Rome. King, his enemy—THE enemy to watch, he decided—did no such thing, merely maintaining however many layers of charade he had on his face. "We are done here. Next time we meet, you have one less secret to use."

"Whaaat?" Iskandar whined. "I didn't even get to do anything."

"You will soon enough." Waver turned his back from the still stoic and stationary King, walking away without another word to the gobsmacked people behind him. "For now, we give them their small victory."

Iskandar sighed. "I suppose."

It wasn't until they were far enough to no longer the victory cries of the Roman soldiers did Iskandar break into a laugh, slapping Waver's back, nearly felling him. "Hah! That 'King' man certainly lived up to the tall tales our Master told us, didn't he, Caster?"

"I feel the need to say that that is not a good thing," Waver said, rubbing his shoulder.

"He didn't move at all! But then! He just walked right up to you! Saw right though you!"

"Hmph. It's to be expected if our Master's info was even half accurate. A mere intimidation technique would not have brought him down. What's important is that we achieved our goal."

"True, true…" A grin stretched over Iskandar's face, like a predator eyeing a prey. "Still, the thought of a true battle with one like him… Makes your blood run, doesn't it?"

"Just you, My King." Waver gazed at the figure of Iskandar. The height difference between them had shrunk and now he saw his king from a different view. The sunlight brushed off his crimson mane, like a ray of light bursting through a crimson field. This was still like a dream to him. One he intended to keep going as long as possible. "But any will of yours, I will follow."

"This again? I'm gonna say it again, I don't remember you." Iskandar made a face halfway between amused and confused.

"So you say, but it matters little to me." Waver took a knee to a raised eyebrow from the other Servant. It had been more than ten years in his memory since they last met, but never did the desire fade from him. Then, now, and forevermore, he would only ever have one king. "I will follow you until the ends of the Earth."

Iskandar sighed. "Well, if you say so. Now, tell me more about these… video games. You said I took a liking to it when we met?"

"Indeed. Let me tell you all about it."

What the fuck.

No, no, it was more of a question. What the fuck?

"Master…" It was d'Eon who first approached him, face mired in awe, confusion, and even a bit of fear. "What… What was that?"

I wish I can tell you, dude. He, too, would like an answer. They had him dead to rights. Him, a dude with no applicable positive adjectives, against two Servants which only half only showed their power, rendering his Servants immobilized.

So why the hell was he still standing?

"Master!" Leonidas came up to him and shook his shoulders violently. "That… That was amazing! You simply have to tell me your secret! What did you do, without even uttering a word, that sent those bastards fleeing with their tails between their legs?"

"T-There is no secret…" he stuttered. Too late. His body answered before he could come up with a good lie.

"H-How awe inducing…" Leonidas, somehow and someway, concluded. "To think that you needed no secret to execute such a move! Everything they said about you is true and more!"

A foreboding cloud manifested over King's head. The feedback loop had been reinforced. There was no stopping it now.

A sharp pain stabbed his midsection. In the middle of biting back the scream, he came eye to eye with his self proclaimed 'Partner'.

"The hell, Partner? If you coulda done that, then do it earlier! Look at me, I'm a mess!" Jean gestured to her body, armor chipped in places and dirt staining parts of her skin. "But I'll admit: that was kinda cool, so I'm willing to forgive half of it."

Could she not blame him in the first place? How do you even forgive 'half' of something?

A Roman soldier slowly made his way to him, a familiar dumbstruck emotion on his face. "Did… Did we survive?"

"I guess we did," he said, himself at a loss for words.

"Master, did you… predict it would went on like that?"

"Not really," he answered honestly.

"I see…" "You needed no foresight; it was all under your control, is that what you're saying?"

"It was?" Leonidas asked before King could deny. "You certainly know how to keep your soldiers on edge, Master. Hahaha!"

And himself.

"…My Lord— No, Commander." Marcus came up to him, mouth slightly agape. For a few seconds, his mouth moved without sound, trying to decide what to say; King could predict a few of them. Finally, his mouth closed shut with a sigh. "What is our next course of action?"

This was the first time Marcus asked him for direction, King noticed. He had taken his own command of the eighty something soldiers up until now, treating King as a commander in name only.

He would've preferred it that way, to be honest.

The next course of action, huh? He had thought of the answer even before Marcus asked him, reinforced by the setting sun reflected on the metal parts of the Roman's armor.

"Let's make camp for today," he decided. "I'm sure you're all tired."

He knew damned sure he was.

Night fell fast after the fatigue set in. The soldiers, aided by Leonidas, set up camp quickly. Soon enough, they fell into a festive mood, bringing out drinks from the wagon and lighting a fire to heat up the dried meat. King, too, was celebratory in his own way, that was palming his face dreading the next day now that he survived this one.

"To our victory! To Master's brilliance! To good ale and fine women! Or men!" Leonidas cheered, chorused by the soldiers' roars.

"Can guys be more noisy?" Jean sneered. "Can't they be more like Partner?"

"As a perennial man myself," d'Eon coyly said, taking a sip from their mug, "the urge is quite irresistible."

"Whatever you say."

King paid no heed to the celebrations, even as his name, rank, and supposed nobility kept getting invoked in them. Instead, he for once decided to act his part: plan ahead as a commander. As much as someone like him could, anyway.

Right. Time to make a plan!

…

…

…

…God, I hope there's no more surprises tomorrow.

And that was the extent of his plans.

The log he sat on shook as someone joined him. Marcus raised a wooden jug to him, the rim overflowing with bubbles, identical to his own.

"Commander," he greeted.

"Marcus."

An awkward silence followed. King fidgeted in his seat. He was never the best at breaking the silence. Nowadays, people do it for him, to his chagrin.

"I was wrong," Marcus said eventually.

"Hm?"

"I thought you a fraud." He took a swig, letting a lump wash away with the alcohol before continuing. "I've no blue blood in me, you see. Never liked your ilk—except for Her Majesty. Too much purple. The scent of grape too strong. Too little scars on their skin."

"I… see?" Oversharing, much?

"I thought you much the same; those scars only for decoration," Marcus said, voice gruff but set loose by the alcohol he kept chugging (perhaps a conscious effort?) "But it would seem The Gods themselves have given me proof to the contrary, a soul that befits nobility in the sea of decadence. That is, of course, you, Commander."

…Ha. The irony was so thick King could smell blood in the air.

"You're overestimating me," he tried to reason. "What I did was stupid. There was little chance it would work. It was just a stroke of luck. Honest!"

"And still you took the chance. The mark of a true commander."

King took a deep breath.

ForfuckssakeIthoughtitwouldbeokaytoatleasttellthewholetruthtosomeonefromthesingularityitsnotliketheyllrememberitorthismeetingwouldevenexistsowhythefuckdotheykeepdoingthis

King exhaled.

"You saved our lives. My men, and I, owe our lives to you." He stood up in a jerk, taking half a second to prevent his drunken body from falling before bowing his head. "I apologize, truly."

"It's cool," he reassured. "It was refreshing actually." It was strangely nice to be doubted, even if it didn't last.

"Well," Marcus said, "that's not something you hear from a noble's mouth everyday."

"Well, get used to it," King said dryly. "I don't need any more embellishments of myself."

Marcus let out a guffawed laugh, before raising his jug to King. "To working together?"

King snorted, and thudded the jug with his own.

Why the hell not?

"Augh!" "When is it gonna be my tuuurn?"

"Fate doesn't favor a whiner, Astolfo." Achilles

"But but but!" "

"That's just how it is. It's all up to our Masters in the end." "And I happen to trust them. You will too, eventually."

His pout didn't disappear, but he relented. "…Okaaay."

"Now, let's get to that thing the Director wanted us to help with."

It wasn't long before they arrived at their destination: a heavy door hiding behind it heavy machinery which reverberated in their chests.

"Say, Achilles," Astolfo said, pouting, "don't you think this is gonna be boring?"

Achilles didn't mind. Being helpful could never be a bad thing, and his Master, King, would say… "This, too, is another form of heroism."

"Huh. That sounds wise."

"You get it."

"I don't. It just sounds wise."

A pregnant silence followed, broken eventually by a sigh from Achilles as he scanned the keycard to the door, opening it. Inside, they were soon greeted by the smell of oil and sweat, as well as a man clad in work overalls.

"Alexander, right?"

The man grunted in response.

Big guy, Achilles thought. He would've thrived in more warring times.

"Well, nice to meet ya, Alex!" Astolfo said, ignoring consent and going straight for nicknames. "I'm Astolfo, and the manly man here is the one and only Achilles."

Alexander, to his credit, ignored the sudden nickname—though without a near invisible wince—and said, "The pleasure is mine, oh two great Heroes."

A bit of sarcasm, Achilles noted. A little bit of real awe too, though.

"So, what do you need help with?" Achilles asked. "Gotta be pretty tough if you need Heroic Spirits."

"Yes, come follow."

He led them through the sound of jabs between workers and the sparks of iron to the what seemed to be the problem: an out of place forklift, obvious to even their limited knowledge of modern technology, because wheels are supposed to be on the ground, not facing the roof.

"Are you still unharmed, George?"

A vaguely affirmative muffle came from under the displaced forklift.

"We will get you out of there soon."

"Just out of curiosity," Achilles asked, "how did this happen?"

"Same old," Alexander said. "Boys were fooling around, took the thing for a 'joyride'. Happens more times than you think."

"…Does the Director know that?"

Alexander snorted. "She only met us recently so maybe she will soon."

"Don't you got more of those, uh, forking lift things?" Astolfo asked, fingers pressed on his head as if to extract the word from his brain. "Just use it to lift its brother!"

"An apt solution, but I will not risk losing both of my forklifts."

Achilles walked past Alexander and stared at the fallen forklift. "Now, now Astolfo. We already came here at the Director's behest. It'd be a shame if we don't do anything, right?"

"Hm… Right you are!" Astolfo skipped over to Achilles' side. "Ready when you are!"

With a simple flick of his foot, the forklift was sent to the air, caught by a jumping Astolfo to set it gently on the floor. Beneath where it was, a short man—George, presumably—stared dumbfounded at the forklift.

Alexander walked up to him, expression still but eyes in awe. "I… should have known, and yet you still did it far easier than I expected. You truly are Achilles, the legendary hero."

"The one and only."

"And me!" Astolfo said. "Astolfo! One of Charlie's Paladins!"

"Yes, of course." Alexander nodded. There was no recognition in his voice.

Best not ruin Astolfo's mood. "Is that it?" Achilles asked.

"Yes. Thank you. Send my regards to the Director."

"Will do! Now, where's Hippogriff so I can—"

"No, Astolfo," Achilles said. "You're not giving any more heart attacks. I can only cover for you once."

"Aww…"

Dejectedly, the Rider walked out of the room. Before Achilles could follow, a hand on his shoulder stopped him. Alexander stared at him with something undecipherable in his eyes.

"Lord Achilles, I have a question before you go, if you are willing to humor me."

"Uh, yeah? Shoot."

"Were you and Patroclus lovers?"

Arturia, or as she had taken to call herself to better fit with the circumstances, Lily, kept glancing at Nero as they marched down the hill to the sounds of rhythmic thumping. Last night's celebration had already faded in their memories as today's horizon foretold another battle, and according to Nero, not one they could take by surprise again. She warned her soldiers that today would be more perilous, more akin to a battle with Carthage, and they should expect a true resistance.

Lily felt a tinge of shame at her own ignorance. The soldiers celebrated her performance at yesterday's ambush, but truthfully that was her first time engaging at warfare. All she did was point her sword with gusto at their enemies, a far cry from the lofty heroics of the knights Kay used to tell her about (but no longer, for she was at the cusp of adulthood!) She wondered if they thought her a venal officer. It wouldn't even be wrong.

Comparatively, Nero was everything her image of an ideal leader is. Headstrong, unshaken, a monolith for her people and unto them. She couldn't help but be awed by the sheer presence an emperor exudes. It even kept her up at night. She was not ignorant of her own identity, a King is what she would be—was—but standing by full fledged one unlike her was an experience to say the least.

But Nero was not the only one, of course.

"Lily!"

A undignified yelp escaped her mouth as two mounds of fat pressed against her face. "M-Morning to you too, Boudica."

"What'd I keep telling you?" She nuzzled Lily's head into her chest, eliciting another yelp. "Call me Big Sis. B-I-G-S-I-S."

"Okay, okay! Just… please let me go."

"Oh, right. Sorry!"

Boudica was, to be frank, nothing like Nero. Perhaps she would take that as a compliment, but even so something about her felt undeniable. Her presence washed over whenever they were at a close distance, protective like a mother to her children. Maybe it was because of their shared commonality, or maybe this was another aspect of kingship she had yet to grasp. Regardless, one thing was for sure: this woman was the Queen of Britannia.

From the wayside, she heard a sigh followed by "What do I have to for her to accept me like that?" which she chose to ignore.

Sorry, Lady Medea.

Regardless, this was an opportunity she would be remiss not to take. Two leaders of a state as her close allies! How they lead, battle, and manage she would absorb it all, for she was Artoria Pendragon yet unforged.

"I see them," Jeanne said, squinting her eyes. Nero struck her arm out to the side to halt the army. "They're about evenly matched with us, numbers-wise, but the terrain favors us. We can flank them using the forest, or—"

"What does he look like?" Nero asked.

"I'm sorry?"

"Their leader, good Christian. The man who leads them."

"Their leader?" Jeanne's head shifted left and right until something caught her eye. "There is a… striking man there, yes. Dark skin, purple hair, and pitch black sclera. There's no doubt he's a… commander of the enemy."

The fact that Jeanne was about to say another word there didn't go past Lily's notice. "Master," she whispered to Ritsuka. "Whoever their leader is, it's a Servant."

"I had a feeling it's going to be like that." Ritsuka sighed. "Doctor, can you run some scans on him?"

"He's a Berseker. The rest of the analysis is going to take time—too long. Jeanne should be able to clue you in more." Romani's eyes shifted to another screen. "We've just wrapped up analysis on the Servants that attacked King's party yesterday. Of course, we don't have their true names, but from everything we could gather, they are exceptional ones. Servants whose name even the most ignorant have heard."

"Well, isn't that interesting," Da Vinci chimed in. "They're not showing their full hand from the beginning; they're much more organized now. Not being led by a newborn Avenger probably has something to do with it. Oh, don't tell her I said that."

"I think she did the best she could given the circumstance," Ritsuka said. "Don't tell her I said that either."

"That immature girl aside," Medea said, "I think our dear Emperor is about to make her move."

True to what Medea said, Nero raised her arm. Lily's breath hitched alongside the soldiers, only to release it confused when Nero beckoned only one man to her side—lightly armored and not suited for combat—before sending him away. A ripple of whispers began to emanate from the soldiers at the frontlines, eventually reaching them:

A call for ceasefire.

The scout came back not too long after, miraculously with only a few scratches on his face, and relayed the response. Nero nodded, and signaled them to lower their weapons.

"Huh." Ritsuka scratched his chin. "That's not what I expected, not after what she said last night."

"Here's a puzzle for you," Da Vinci said. "If she was furious that someone had impersonated her dear deceased uncle, then what would make her do a one-eighty?"

"Well, if I had to guess…"

"Because her uncle—Emperor Caligula—is really here," Mash finished.

"Bingo!"

"A Servant, then," Jeanne said. "Caligula. The Grail tells me he's some sort of mad king. A Berserker?"

"Berserker." Medea sighed. "What a tiring Servant to be our first encounter."

"Men," Nero said, in a tone suggesting order. "We march."

And with those two simple words, the men fell down in line and walked steadfast alongside their emperor, with the Chaldeans following suit.

Wow… I wonder if Boudica could do the same thing. Perhaps, had the circumstances of the Singularity been different, she would be receiving her answer.

As they marched down the hill, the United Roman Empire's forces began to show itself, themselves standing with their weapons sheathed, though the tension was visible on their tendons. This, it would seem, would not be a smooth negotiation, if that was even Nero's aim.

Eventually, they met, separated only by a few million blades of grass, and one wrong move from a bloodbath. Nero stood in front—uncharacteristic for a leader—and said nothing, but her presence begot a certain demand: to see eye to eye with their own leader. There was no need for any words, this was an exchange between emperors.

It was no surprise then, when their enemy parted and gave way to their emperor.

The man that greeted them wore no veil to hide the madness on his face similarly to Spartacus, yet in a way that was also completely different. Lily had to stifle a laugh on more than one occasion when the gray behemoth would say something about "oppression" and "rebels", but there was no such humor to be found on this Berserker's face. Only an all-encompassing desire of violence in his eyes, with a twisted mouth that felt like it was holding back howls.

Nero kept her gaze at him for a while, staring level with unbroken eyes, but eventually they softened. "…I was going to order my soldiers to tear you limb from limb for the crime of wearing my Uncle's name while butchering his legacy. But it's really you, isn't it, Uncle?"

He opened his mouth, jaw lashing out left and right to rebel against what he wanted to say. "N… Nerooo! My heart, my love, my successor! My life… continued!"

Caligula. Lily winced. The Throne did not spare details on the knowledge it wreathed on its Heroes. For her especially, Kings and Emperors and their like was a subject that imprinted itself on her brain. The triumphant ones, the tragic ones, and of course, the mad ones.

This, too, is an emperor.

"Be prepared for anything," Ritsuka whispered. "It's a Berserker we're up against."

Their hands hovered over their weapons. Lily released a breath she didn't know she was holding. A state could only have one ruler, never more. It didn't matter that Nero and Caligula both were emperors of the same nation, they were two emperors still. And when two rulers meet, even the most cordial of interactions would have sparks of conflict. And this was an interaction farthest from cordial.

In the end, it was Nero who made the first move. But it was not a strike from her sword, nor an order to her men.

She laughed.

"Uncle!" she said. "It is you!"

"Neroooo!"

And then they hugged.

…

"Uh, Master?" Lily was the one who broke the silence. "What should we do?"

Ritsuka seemed at a loss for words, mouth and hand moving several times without delivering anything clear.

"Well clearly she has gone mad," Medea said. "Like uncle like niece."

"L-Let's give Nero some benefit of the doubt, Lady Medea," Jeanne said.

"Funny. She didn't seem to give you that same grace when it came to your faith."

To that, Jeanne had no adequate response, but shrugged as if to say, it is what it is.

"How are you, Uncle? Was afterlife as horrible as people make it to be? Or is it a paradise much like some of our philosophers claim? It can't be that good if you crawled your way back here." Nero continued on the conversation as if it was a family reunion (which Lily supposed it was).

"O… Ohhh…! Nero!"

"Ha! I knew it!"

"Are we sure Nero isn't a Berserker too?" Ritsuka whispered.

"Nope," Romani said, himself looking aghast by the scene. "No Servant signals coming off of her. A shame; it would explain a lot."

Lily heard grass rustle to her right, where Boudica made her way to. "Hm. I guess Roman Emperors are just like that, huh?"

"I-Is that so?" Lily pointed a shaking finger to Nero and Caligula, who had now almost devolved into a match of who can shout 'Rome' the loudest and fastest. "Are all emperors like this? Kings too?"

"Oh, uh. I'm just speaking from my experience." Boudica chuckled. "But I suppose that's not entirely wrong. To be a ruler is to impose your beliefs and ideals onto your own people. In a way, only those with a mind capable of doing what those two are doing right now could possibly occupy such a throne, even if the current example is, um, unorthodox."

To be king is to impose your ideal. Something about that resonated in her chest. Did she herself even have a will strong enough to do that? She had barely even started to swing Caliburn in her current incarnation, yet it was embedded in the stone of history that she would one day be king. To grow from who she was now to be someone who could prioritize a reunion between family in the middle of a war, it was almost terrifying.

"Uncle, I have a proposition, even in your madness," Nero said. "A showdown if you will."

Caligula groaned unintelligible.

"Umu, I'm glad you agree! It is only fitting for a meeting between emperors! Let us fight, one one one, a trial by combat to see who between us holds the right to hold the throne and show, to both your army and mine, the TRUE brilliance of Rome!" A grin fashioned itself on Nero's face, predatory and proud much like a wolf's. "But make no mistake, Uncle. Your time has passed; I will show to all your followers why I, Nero Caludius, am the ONLY Emperor of Rome."

The Chaldeans could only balk at Nero's proposition.

"Say, Doctor," Ritsuka said, "if Nero dies here, then it's all over, right?"

"The death of one of the most influential emperors of one of the most important empires in the history of humanity." Romani laughed, not out of humor or even exasperation, just laughed. "Yeah, that might just do it," he said cheerfully.

"This is no laughing matter, Doctor," Mash said, eyes sharp.

"…Da Vinci?" Ritsuka turned to the hopefully more reliable Servant.

"Try not to let it happen."

"Gah!"

Lily, though, she had a different idea. "Master… let's trust Nero for now."

"What?" He looked aghast. "Lily, she's a human being! You should know as a Servant the physical gap between the two of us!"

"I have to agree with Ritsuka," Jeanne said. "It's unreasonable to have a flesh and blood person fight a Servant, Berserker at that."

"Well I for one would welcome it." Medea swished her hair aside. "It's been dreadfully boring these past few days. Though I suppose she could die."

"I-I know! But, I'd like to trust Nero just this once." It was more of a gut feeling than anything, but what else had a country bum going for her? Second guessing herself, Lily felt an awareness that she was selfishly wanting to see Nero in all her royal glory, to see a ruler in action.

Still, they have a point.

Before she could say more, a hand found itself on her shoulder.

"I second her." It was Boudica. "Call it an intuition if you'd like, or a bit of melancholy, but I say we at least let Nero show what she has to offer. Are you with me, Spartacus?"

The Berserker laughed. "An oppressor against another, no matter the outcome we are the victor!"

Ritsuka looked at Lily, then Boudica, then Spartacus, then back to Lily. He sighed. "Fine, but the moment it looks like she's in trouble, we intervene, alright?"

"Of course, Master."

Suddenly, Caligula raised his arm; murmurs started to emerge from his rank before they stepped back. Nero did the same to similar effect.

His face shifted

"Ne… ro…" It had taken a long time, but Caligula smiled back as if a response to her own. "You are… but… fledgling yet…"

"But of course," she said. "Then I suppose the chick must fall its hen to prove itself."

Caligula chuckled, hoarse as if his throat was dredged in tar. "Please…" he pleaded.

For a split second, Lily saw it, the faltering of Nero's face, before it hardened once more. Here they were no longer niece and uncle, but rivals to a throne only one may hold. There was only one Emperor of Rome.

Caligula's face shifted once more, going back to the animalistic snarl, no longer seeing a beloved niece, only an emperor where he should be.

Then, he lunged.

"Nerooooo!"

It couldn't ever be simple. It wasn't enough that two Servants tried (and almost succeeded) to take him out early, today they had to trudge through a dense thick forest with little to no visibility. Thank God for the compass Chaldea's comm device had. Though it would help if Jean appreciated it as much as he did instead of screaming about the vines and trees around them as "waste of God's creation". Leonidas, for his part, did his best to calm her down.

Ritsuka's side wasn't faring much better, having apparently encountered another Servant. Just great. An offer for help had fallen out of his mouth as soon as he heard it, but thankfully it was deemed unnecessary. Nero of all people was apparently engaged in combat with the Servant, Caligula. The King fighting before their army, when does that even happen? Maybe he could take a clue.

Hah, as if. He would very much like to be alive, thank you.

"Master."

"Charlotte."

D'Eon smiled. She swayed a lock of her hair aside—and he knew today that she was she, somehow, as if ingrained into his brain the same way sugar is sweet on his tongue. It was a mystery but he didn't mind. She certainly didn't. "I want to say again, you were magnificent yesterday. It makes sense now how we lost to you in France."

"You're exaggerating."

A smirk, teasing, found its way on her face. "Is penchant for downplaying yourself part of your Raison d'être? I can't say it's not admirable, but it wouldn't hurt to accept praise once in a while."

I should've known better by this point. "Sure," he said weakly. He didn't believe that one word but everyone else seemed to.

D'Eon laughed. "Anyway, what a terrible route, isn't it, Master?"

"You can say that again." Actually another route had been proposed to him by Marcus, but it would take longer and that was the last thing he wanted now, even less than a knife in his throat.

"Most of our soldiers can't even see five feet ahead of them. It's easy for us Servants, but this place is quite disadvantageous for humans." The underlying message was quite clear, and he agreed. He knew of the risks of traversing this route—namely, assassinations—but having three Servants, especially one with the skill Mind's Eye, was good enough safety net for him. With d'Eon on his side, he couldn't feel any more secure.

"But you'll be fine, right, Master?"

His blood froze. "What?"

"You are, as you have demonstrated time and time again, an extraordinary human, even among Mages. As such, I'm sure you can handle yourself even without any of us Servants by your side." She cast a glance behind, where Jean was swinging her spear side to side as if holding a grudge to nature itself. "Maybe you're even better off."

No. No. No! What the hell was she saying? "D'Eon," he said slowly. "Humans can still die, you know."

She beamed at him, like he just said something she was thinking the whole time. "As expected of you, Master. You agree just as much as I, our soldiers need help. Commander Marcus can't sort out eighty men by his lonesome I am sure. Leave it to me."

"That's not what I-"

She was out of earshot well before the words left his mouth, leaving him alone as the spearhead of the party.

…

Ah, well.

Another day, another chance to die.

The next half an hour went by without accident and King started to believe that maybe d'Eon had a point. It wasn't a given that they would be ambushed her. Perhaps they even set one up on the safer route around the mountains, feeling that King's party would pick it for notions of safety. By the map's estimation they were only fifteen minutes away from their next stop. It didn't sound like anyone was missing judging from the lack of ruckus behind him—not counting Jean cursing—so they should be in the clear now.

He flinched as a spider web interrupted his pace, swatting it away and twirling it. He wasn't an outdoor person much less a wilderness person. Maybe that should change if he were to stay here any longer.

The winds blew south and the bushes rustled around him. Much too loud, as if moved not by air but something solid. Immediately he stopped and the hairs on his neck stood. Was this it? The threat of assassination he had so carelessly brushed aside? Shouldn't have jinxed it like that! Well, too late now. He could feel sweat beginning to soak his collar and with it the coming of The Engine. One beat per second, two beats per second, then—

A face greeted him. A woman dressed in Chinese wear with cheeks that were flushed pink—almost deep red. The first thing he noticed after that was the smell. Alcohol. It reeked of the stuff, enough to nearly intoxicate him without even a drop touching his tongue. She's drunk.

She was also hanging from a tree upside down.

"Hey~"

This girl's trouble, he concluded based off this one minuscule interaction.

"Jing Ke," she said, nimbly landing on the ground. "We met when you first came with Nero."

Jing Ke? The name rung a bell. He didn't pay a lot of attention to those other Servants they met in Nero's place, though he knew that two of them went with Ritsuka. "Oh, yeah. King."

"King, hm? That's a pretty dangerous name to wear around someone like me."

Now what's that supposed to mean?

"I used to kill people who wear that title."

Oh. "Used to, right?"

"Hahaha! You're funny. You know damn well I died trying to kill an emperor. Relax, I'm not gonna kill you," she said. She waved around a bronze knife in all her drunkenness, that is to say it came too close for comfort to King's eyes as she laughed.

Somehow, her words weren't all too convincing. He also didn't know 'damn well' who she was.

"Of course," he lied. "So did you come here to help, or…"

"Eh, not really. I came because I was bored. I know Nero told me to guard the capital and stuff, but then the other two guys left! What am I supposed to do then? Get drunk?" She took a swig from the gourd hooked to her hip. "I did! But even that got boring without a king or an emperor or anything around, so I thought 'Hey, I could just hitchhike one of those groups from Chalwhatever'." Another swig. "So I did! Too bad I missed out on the fun, though."

King nodded. "A shame." She would've been a welcome sight against those two Servants.

"It's not all bad. That was damn cool what you did. I guess that white haired girl wasn't just talking when she said you're unmatched as a Master."

King raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

"Oho? Testing me, are you." She leaned in close to him, necks almost touching, then promptly swiped something behind his ear—something that cut the air. "Here. The knife that almost killed you. Or should I say, the knife that you saw coming, judging by how you caught them using spider webs of all things." She hummed. "Color me impressed. They didn't send a slouch to assassinate you. They threw it quick and quiet at your neck, but you didn't even flinch." She took a glance at the knife and licked the tip. "Poisoned too. Lucky you didn't move."

…

He didn't know if his lack of surprise was a good thing or not.

"Who threw them," he asked, eyes staring vacantly to the ornate daggers Jing Ke twirled.

"United Empire guys, presumably. I saw them while I was following you and was about to intervene. Then you showed me how unnecessary that was."

So he was being stalked by this crazy drunk too and nobody noticed? Great. Just great. "And where would they be?" He dreaded the answer.

"Look up."

Against his better judgment, he craned his neck up, only to meet two corpses with faces frozen in fear. Their skin was pale and whatever took them was the farthest thing from painless, even if there was no gore on their bodies to speak of.

"Figured you'd appreciate the help, so I played counter-assassin. You know they were my first kills since being summoned. Imagine that, an Assassin like me, not being able to brandish her knife!" Her already sharp eyes suddenly turned to him in a dangerous way. "Maybe I should try pointing my knife at you. Not like you'll die from it."

Oh, he would, he VERY would. He might die more than anyone had ever died before.

"Yo, Partner. That Marcus guy said he wanted to— Who the hell are you?"

His time in the military couldn't end sooner.

Against common sense, Nero hadn't died yet.

Against the odds, it was not a one sided match.

Against all possibilities, Nero was winning.

A clang thundered across the valley as steel met steel. Armed with nothing but the armor on his body, Caligula roared as he flailed wildly with his body, an apt fighting style for a Berserker. Nero, impossibly swift for a human being, met every strike her uncle threw at her with her sword, red and curving several times across its length: Aestus Estus.

Several wounds had adorned Caligula over the course of the battle when Nero's sword would meet parts of his body left unprotected by the golden armor, yet Nero herself was unblemished. Not a hair out of place on her head and nary even a tear on her dress. It was completely one-sided.

It was perhaps within expectations that it would be one-sided, but not like this, thought Ritsuka. "Doctor, run something on Nero. Now."

"Yeah. Already on it!"

"Miss Lily, did you see this coming?" Mash asked.

"No. Not at all," she said. "Big Sis Boudica, Nero's human, isn't she?"

"She should be."

"But?" Medea continued.

"But as you can see, she's not exactly exhibiting human-like attributes." Boudica dug her sheathed sword slightly into the ground. "I've had my suspicions, to be honest, but only a hunch."

"We just have to wait on Roman's analysis. My Ruler class skills don't reveal anything new," Jeanne said. "For now we just have to trust Nero."

"I mean, hey, she could just be really strong. Didn't she wrestle a lion naked?" Ritsuka weakly suggested.

The emperor in question flung herself to Caligula, himself holding his entire body in tension. As Nero drew closer, Caligula made the first move: slashing with hands made claws by his Servanthood. Swiftly, Nero deflected the claws, and using the momentum spun in the air. And in that moment, flames burst, coating the length of her blade.

"Okay, nevermind."

From there it was barely a battle. Nero unleashed a flurry of strikes, each connecting more cleanly with Caligula's skin than the last. The mad emperor roared with every hit, trying in vain to hit the far more agile Nero, who stayed unscathed. Finally, Nero delivered three strikes in succession, leaving Caligula's arms shaken and stunned by his side. Then, she drew back her sword, the flames growing in intensity until it eclipsed her sword, and delivered the final blow, sending Caligula careening towards his army.

Caligula groaned as his men tried to prop him back up with worried whispers. When they saw Nero sauntering, however, they cowered back into formation. Beyond the showcase of power she just held, it was inscribed on their bones to not stand against the Emperor of Rome. And of the two present in this moment, one had proven themselves more deserving. In spite of their allegiance, their knees buckled as if understanding who they should prostate themselves to.

Nero raised her blade towards Caligula once more, who was unable to muster up a guard as he barely made himself to his feet. A few breathless seconds passed, then Nero instead lowered it once more. "I will spare you this one time, Uncle. Call it familial piety, if you want. Next time we meet, however, I will no longer stay my blade."

"N… Nero…" Caligula groaned, trying but failing to get up from kneeling position. Nero didn't bother responding and turned her back towards her uncle while gesturing his army to retreat. She knew they would oblige the emperor proven true. "I… am not the only one."

At that, Nero did take a small pause in her steps, biting her lip for a brief moment before continuing, arriving to her army amidst loud celebration while Caligula and his army made a concise and ordered retreat.

"Umu! You all have seen with your very own eyes! Truly in their ranks are Roman Emperors of old. But your eyes witnessed too another truth." Nero paused, for dramatic effect everyone could tell but obliged. "That I, Nero Claudius, am the only emperor of the Rome of today!" The cheers erupted from the men, and it would take a while before the Chaldeans finally got a word in.

"Nero, how." It was Ritsuka who first asked.

"Hm? How what? Be more specific my friend from faraway land."

"Everything! Your strength, your speed, the flames on your sword!"

"Umu! How exasperated you are. Very well, I shall reveal my secret."

Secret. Lily awaited with bated breath. What could the secret to amazing power be? To match a Servant while still human?

"It's because I'm the Emperor of Rome. Umu!"

…

"Right…"

They were in the quaint little town of Massilia, the last stop before Gaul where the United Empire had apparently made a vital component of their supply chain. "Strike it, and we would have all but won," Nero had said prior to the expedition. King's knowledge of warfare only went as far as RTS games, but if they imparted one thing it would be this: without food, an army falls.

"King. I'm glad you're safe."

"I can say the same thing to you."

They met at the town square just as the sun was starting to set, as planned. There was a collective sigh of relief when they saw each other unharmed. He felt it even through the comms screen.

"I heard from the Director that you were attacked by two Servants," Ritsuka said. "How'd you drive them away?"

"Ah, well…" King drawled. "I guess you can say it was… charisma?"

"Charisma?"

"Yeah. Charisma. You know the one." There was a bit of shine in Ritsuka's eyes that was begging for him to elaborate. But surely he could just play vague and mysterious. Sorry, Ritsuka, you'd just have to accept that one word answer.

Not like anyone else was curious.

"Master!" Leonidas boomed. "I, too, am curious!"

"Yeah, Partner. Spill it!" Jean jokingly pointed her spear at him in a way that almost made it not a joke.

"I must say, I am curious. I know of a human that could match a Servant under the correct circumstances." Medea made a low hum and stared wistfully at the air, seemingly reminiscing. "But they say you drove them away without so much as contact."

"Please, Master," Lily said, clasping her hands. "I'd like to know, if only to improve upon myself."

"Yeah, you know what? How did you do that?" Romani chimed in. "You said things like 'I had it under control' but come on, give us more details! You agree, right, Director?"

"Hm… Consider it director's orders," she said playfully.

…Damn peer pressure.

"Fou!" Even the dog(?) was against him.

"Back then," he said, preparing nothing, "they had us surrounded by Magecraft. Elemental of all kinds. I saw however that they didn't exactly have anything between me and them. So I decided to close the distance, to size them up, you see."

"What if they just killed you?" Mash asked.

Then he would no longer be in this nightmare. "The thought crossed my mind, but I thought that if they really wanted to, they wouldn't show themselves. Ergo, it was likely an observation, rather than an attack." The lie flew so smoothly from his mouth that he almost forgot that his thoughts were more akin to fuck I'm gonna die I'm gonna die I'm gonna die during the debacle itself. "It was a still gamble, of course."

"You gambled your life on a maybe?" Jeanne asked, worried.

Everyday, if I'm being honest. "Quite. I knew that if I stayed still for any longer they would get what they want, so I thought that I should meet them face to face. It was risky, but the alternative was worse. It was a gamble I was glad to take."

…

As if.

"And indeed it all worked out in the end," d'Eon said. "They retreated after Master approached them closer, no doubt unnerved that he saw them through."

"Oh… Is that so? You're a terrifying one, aren't you?" said a certain hitchiker Assassin. "Doing all that without even showing a flash of your Magecraft, are you truly a mage?"

King closed his eyes and pretended she didn't ask that last question.

"Who's this?" Ritsuka asked.

"Jing Ke. You know her from when we first met Nero." He sure didn't. "She helped take down an assassination attempt on me."

"A what?"

"Don't exaggerate. He would've been fine without me. I simply put the finishing touches," Jing Ke said. Without the deep red hue on her cheeks, King thought she sounded and looked elegant, beautiful even. Probably doesn't last long though, especially on nights.

Olga sighed. "It happened just today, around the same time you encountered Caligula which was how we missed it. Two assassins—human ones—tried to assassinate King using throwing knives. According to Jing Ke, King caught them using spider webs before she dispatched the assassins herself."

"Spider… webs?" Ritsuka looked astonished.

"Believe me, I wish I saw it too," Romani said.

"I'm not surprised after what you did with those two Servants, Master. But please, save some for the rest of us!" Leonidas laughed.

I'd save all of it for you if I could, he thought bitterly.

"You sure had it rough, huh, King?" Ritsuka looked sheepish. "I had Nero to bail me out of my situation."

"You two sure can't stay out of trouble for long can you?" Olga shook her head. "Good thing Ritsuka had Nero and King had… King."

"Gentlemen!" a boisterous voice said. Nero came sauntering, arms spread in invitation. "And our few ladies! It's good to see all of you unharmed. Even you, follower of Christ. I trust you are all ready for tomorrow's strike?"

"Of course, your highness," Mash said. "Is there anything we can help with? Tomorrow's a big battle after all. Anything with strategies? Equipment? Maybe the soldiers? Or—"

"None of them!" Nero declared. "Umu, in fact I decree that you shall do no menial tasks of the sort. Nay, for tonight we shall celebrate!"

"Uh, Your Majesty? Sorry for my impudence, but… we haven't won yet?" Ritsuka said.

"Uh-uh. What the twerp said," Jean added. "Trust me, you do not want to celebrate prematurely."

"Aha! But we are not celebrating our would be victory, but our battle tomorrow!"

"You're celebrating… going to war?" Jeanne had a face of tentativeness. There was more she wanted to say but none she could verbalize.

"Umu! Follow me. I shall relay this to the rest of our forces." She turned away without awaiting a response, and as if entranced by her charisma they followed suit to where the majority of the army had gathered. "Men!" They turned their heads at the arrival of their emperor. "Tonight, worry not about tomorrow. Tonight, live under the moon and not the sun. Tonight, I shall let you feast to your heart's contents. Tonight, worry only about the now. However, I will tell you what awaits you. Tomorrow, we strike Gaul, the heart of our enemy's operation! Tomorrow, all of us goes but not all will return! Tomorrow, we go to war!" Despite the morbid declarations, her men did nothing but cheer the end of each sentence that came out of her mouth. "So unleash all your reservations tonight. Leave no stones unturned in your life!" She turned to them. "And that goes for you too."

"Are you sure, Your Majesty?" Roman asked. "I'm sure we could be of some help."

"And what use would help be if it was one I didn't ask for?"

"Fair enough, I suppose." He cleared his throat. "Well, King, Ritsuka. Here's a mission for you: go out there and enjoy yourselves."

"I sure can use a change of pace. I don't know what I can do though. Most of the people here seem to be doing something with alcohol."

Well, King thought, might as well go around town. He wasn't keen on getting drunk with someone like Jing Ke around.

The walk went as uneventful as could be, which was ideal. Hell, ideally every moment until he could get back to his world was this uneventful, with nothing to do and only his senses to accompany him. Speaking of said senses, he took the time to absorb the city. It was different from the capital that was for sure though not nearly as much as the difference between City A and Z. For one there was an actual attempt at mimicking the great structures of the Roman Capital rather than leaving it to be devoured by wolves. That was the bare minimum, but of course his shitty government back home couldn't even meet that. The people, surprisingly, had been receptive of them, despite the ongoing civil war. Part of him was worried about that—didn't seem right—but who was he to judge? They must've liked Nero very much, or at least very loyal. The children ran freely on the streets, even talking with some of the soldiers, asking about their time in the military and whatnot.

In a lot of ways, it was better than the society his world had created.

That is to say, this civilization which was millennia behind in technological development completely washed whatever the hell the suits in his world came up with.

Wow that does not feel good to admit. Surely there must be some catch here. Let's see… There were no video games. Right. Awful.

Before he could continue that thought, a few familiar voices caught his attention. Sitting around a small fire were three of his Servants.

"Young lady, future King, you are on the right direction but yet you have much to learn," said Leonidas. "You don too much iron on your body! To be King, you must know firsthand what it is that your people face, including your army. Shy away not from blades or arrows, receive them with your skin as if a hug from a family."

"I see," Lily said, nodding. King didn't know if she was being polite or if she was earnestly taking it as good advice (but hopefully the former.) "I'd like to know more. You were King of the Spartans, weren't you? How did you lead your people?"

"Ah, my kingship, is it? Very well. Let me get straight into the interesting bits." Leonidas went on to talk about Spartan practices. Running around cities, stopping blades with your bare skin, wrestling naked. A lot of nonsense, basically. Lily, bless her, nodded along earnestly to everything he said. He did finish off with something sensible, communications between people, his people's favorability of him, and the like. It would've meant a lot more had he spent any more than twenty words on them.

D'Eon was there to balance things out, thankfully, regaling her with more nuanced stories about what it meant to be a knight at their age. "It was nothing like the knights of your stories, I assure you," they said. "When I am from, those had become lofty ideals. No longer realities to be sought after. The moniker of 'Knight' had become just that: a moniker, without any of the chivalry or honor it used to carry."

"But even so!" Lily protested. "You were still a knight worthy of respect. Queen Marie told me as much."

"Ah, I'm honored to have the respect of King Arthur."

"P-Please save that for an older me."

It was then that King's presence became noticed.

"Ah, Master! Enjoying the festivities?" Leonidas said.

"Something like that." Not much to enjoy, he thought to himself.

"Well, we can save any talk about tomorrow for later." D'Eon patted a spot beside them. "For now, let's heed the words of the Emperor."

King shrugged and took the spot. Surely it wouldn't be any more boring than the walk he had.

"Master." Lily looked at him with resolute eyes. "It's your turn."

"What?"

"Lily requested us to regale her tales of our lives," Leonidas explained. "She's an eager learner, hungry yet focused. Of course you, Master, have your own share of tales you can part onto her. As a learning experience."

"I think you're mistaking me with someone else. My life is boring in the ways that matter," King said, knowing what the reply would be.

D'Eon chuckled. "For once, drop your humility, Master. Look at Lily's eyes."

He did, and saw as puppy as eyes could possibly be staring back at him.

"Lily," he said, "I'm sure there are better people you can take example from."

"Perhaps, but you're the one who is here now."

Fuck. She got him there.

"I don't know what I can say to advice you on being a king, though," he said in last ditch attempt.

"I mean, your name is King, right?"

"It's just a name."

"And names have meanings."

She's right, you know, a voice nudged in the back of his head. Yes, she was right. Names have meanings and his surely meant a cruel joke.

"This one time," he started against better judgment, "I was on the way back home after… recon." For upcoming games at the time, at a con. "I was taking a shortcut—a back alley—when this monster suddenly appeared. I don't remember what it looked like, smelled bad though." He did remember one other thing: its name, Dumpster Diver Deluxe. Three guesses how that particular monster came to be, and the first two doesn't count.

"A foul smelling monster, you say?" Leonidas rubbed his chin. "I am not too familiar with the phantasmal, but I know enough that they are rare in modern times. Ha! You must live in most dangerous of places, Master."

"Please, continue," d'Eon said.

"We got into a standstill. I stared at it and it stared at me." And I almost shat my pants. "Eventually though, it melted."

"It… melted?"

King nodded. He wasn't sure why either, but he stopped questioning after the sixteenth incident between him and monsters. "On the spot."

"Just so we're clear," d'Eon said, "you didn't touch it at all, and yet this beast melted by itself."

He nodded. It wasn't terribly interesting of a story. If he were to pick a more interesting (that is to say, where he came closer to death before dumb luck and/or reputation saved him) story, there'd be plenty, but he didn't want to give the impression of a storied life to Lily.

"I see…" Lily nodded. "What you're saying is, presentation can matter more than action—no, presentation itself is action. With the right look, you can avoid fighting your enemies altogether, shedding any risk of lives being lost."

King, with the decency to avert his gaze from hers, gave a tiny nod. "Yes. Something like that."

D'Eon chuckled. "Well, you certainly live a colorful life, Master. Though I'd expect no less from someone of your caliber."

You have no idea.

"D'Eon, it is your turn once more," Leonidas said.

"Well, I encountered a ghost once."

"A ghost? Please, tell me more! You're curious too, right, King Leonidas? …King Leonidas, sir?"

"W-What? G-G-Ghosts? Ah, yes, of course! It sounds very interesting indeed, d'Eon. However, I must make haste! I'm close to missing my routine nightly training. I bid you all good night!"

"King Leonidas, sir! …Ah, he sure is fast for someone so… muscle-y."

…

Well, they all have their weaknesses.

A few uninteresting tales from him after, he bid farewell to them, feeling cornered by how exposing the rest of his unfortunate encounters would be. Along the way, his feet took him to the mass of people that was gathering in the main plaza, and in the center of that mass was one very drunk Assassin Jing Ke, somehow lugging a barrel full of alcohol on her shoulder that King had never seen before, had accelerated the intoxication of the atmosphere ten times faster than the feast they had the night before. King himself, wisely, opted not to drink lest he get dragged along. The same couldn't be said for Jean, who out of curiosity took a swig. A glint appeared on Jing Ke's eyes then before offering her another. And another. Then another. Until several things were set on fire. Medea, thankfully still awake, put an end to it before it could get any worse after Jeanne basically begged her to. Hope Jean doesn't mind waking up soaking wet.

"She's a handful, isn't she?" asked Jeanne by his side.

"Yeah," he said. And yet he had been finding himself getting used to her antics, glares and threats notwithstanding. She had a charm to her, along the word 'Partner' that she often used to refer him that seemed to hold a different meaning to her than it did him. Whatever devious meaning it was, he didn't care nor want to learn. Still, he hadn't stopped her from using it. He should learn to put his foot down one day, lest another "becoming a hero" type situation happens again.

"A bit much to be called just a handful if you ask me," Medea chimed in. "I swear, I've not interacted with her any more than days I've been summoned, but every time it has been trouble," she huffed.

"True," Jeanne admitted. "I find myself overwhelmed too a lot of the times. …All of the times, really."

"And yet you put up with her. Why?"

"I view her as a little sister."

"She looks the same age as you."

"In appearance, yes, but the circumstances around her existence doesn't make it so."

"Oh?" Medea turned to King. "Is that true, Master?"

"Yeah." He grinded his teeth behind his lips. Thinking back about it still gave him some chills. "She was a creation of the last Singularity's mastermind who was killed by another mastermind that we ended up fighting and was used by him to get France under his control. She thought she was Jeanne's dark side; she only found out she wasn't after the guy betrayed her." Though they seemed to think he knew all along. Don't know how they got that idea.

Something on Medea's features softened. "So, she is like a child is what you're saying?"

"Hmm. I don't know if I'd call her a child, per se, but everything around her is new to her. The only memories she has is the twisted version of my own given to her and what went down in France. She knows a lot, but has experienced little."

Medea hummed. "Well, that leaves a bad taste on the mouth."

"Perhaps," Jeanne conceded. "But she is here now regardless."

"Indeed. One's existence should never be considered sin."

"Of course." Jeanne smiled. "God would not have created us the way we are if we are not all worthy of His love as is."

"Pretty words." Medea looked at Jeanne, half impressed. "Perhaps that religion of yours isn't so bad."

King had to agree. He didn't know much about Christianity other than that it's the most followed religion of this world, but it made sense that it was if Jeanne was its shining example. Thinking back to his own world, mass practiced religion had faded with the collapse of the old world, and he couldn't see himself believing in one other than occasional moments of wishing for divine intervention. If its best contingent was Jeanne, then maybe it could be good for his world.

Although, a set of rules that billions of people follow faithfully is scary too in its own way.

"Ah. My proselytizing days are behind me. I'm just spouting my own beliefs."

"But it's still a beautiful belief," King found himself saying. "It's still something to take pride of." God knows he doesn't have something as pretty that he believed so strongly.

Jeanne's lips pursed and she took her gaze to Jean, who Jing Ke was carrying unceremoniously on her shoulder, with a serene smile on her face, looking not too distinct from the Ruler herself. "If you believe so, Master."

"You can count on my faith too," Medea said.

"Thank you, Lady Medea."

They stood there in silence until Jean was carried into her tent, at which King once again bid farewell and made his way to his own tent. Laying down on the thin bedroll which he had become scarily accustomed to, he couldn't help but feel bored. They were going to have a meeting to decide tomorrow's Servants after the army goes asleep or are too drunk to know, and they all had their ways to kill time. Alcohol, small talk, among other things. King himself, though, was doing his now trademark nothing. It was at that moment that he caught himself missing video games. It was his lifeblood, and likely will always be. Was it too much to ask that there be a handheld somewhere in the game room? Something top priority to ask when he gets back for sure.

"I wonder what Ritsuka and Mash are doing," he mused out loud.

"Talking with Boudica and Spartacus, for your information."

"Oh. Thanks."

…

…

…

Usually, this would be time for him to jump out from his prone position, stanced in a shameful way that hid none of his fear alongside the usual King Engine. But for once, he was so shocked that none of these things happened and he became paralyzed inside out.

"Master of Chaldea," Jing Ke greeted, laying by his side outside the bedroll. "Good night to you."

What the FUCK are you doing here? Somehow he managed to keep the sentence behind his lips.

"Oh, don't look so alarmed. You knew I was here the whole time."

No. No he didn't.

"You were?" It took everything he had for the words to come out without stuttering while maintaining his stone face.

"Yes. Before you even came in even. Thought I could catch you off guard this time, but turns out you're never off guard, are you?" she asked, a mischievous grin on her flushed face.

You don't know how far you are from the truth. "Perhaps." Be cryptic, King. This. Woman. Is. Dangerous!

"Aha! Giving nothing away. I love it. Makes for a good challenge."

"Well, I'm glad one of us is enjoying herself."

She laughed. "Oh, come on, don't be so dour."

A minute passed without a word exchanged. He inhaled deep. "Why are you here, Jing Ke?"

"Call it a field test. I wouldn't want another Assassin Servant to sneak up on you while I was away. Well, it doesn't seem like my concern is needed though, is it?"

The only thing I'm concerned about is you!

"Now that I know that, there's nothing keeping me here." She stood up, dusted off her dress, and winked him goodbye. "See you tomorrow."

He hoped—nay, PRAYED—that she meant the battle, and nothing else.

Just like her class name, she disappeared without so much as a flap in his tent.

…

…

…

That was certainly a way to keep him up.

"Hey, you all," Romani greeted with a smile. "Had a nice night?"

"I did until I woke up." Ritsuka yawned. "Other than that, pretty boring. I can't drink alcohol, you know."

"Neither can I," Mash said.

"And why the hell would you ever want to?" Jean groaned. "Fuck. I feel like I got hit by my own Noble Phantasm ten times in the head."

"Worry not, young lady." Leonidas laughed. "It will feel worse in the morning."

Jean turned to King with the most mortified face he'd ever seen on her. "Partner, you gotta take me off for tomorrow."

"I'll see what I can do."

"Alright. Let's do a recap now, outside of Nero's earshot," Romani said. "So how do you guys feel about our chances?"

"Better than last time," Ritsuka said. "I can't say for sure, but I sure hope France was an outlier."

King agreed wholeheartedly. Logically it was. It wasn't like there's a Jean made every day like a factory. A straightforward battle like this one was far simpler to deal with. Surely, their enemies thought the same.

"Any comment, Ms. Outlier?" Da Vinci said.

"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up." Jean scoffed. "I wouldn't want another me, either."

"Really?" Jeanne turned to her. "I'd love to have another sister."

"Well, I wouldn't!"

A smirk appeared on Medea's face. "So you admit to being her sister?"

"Don't put words in my mouth, witch!"

"Well, anyway," Romani said, trying to get things back on track. "Let's decide on who you two want to bring tomorrow. It's a big day. King, you go first."

King leaned back against a crate and hummed. Karna? Nah. Save the trump card for the biggest battle, he always said. Same with Achilles. Murasaki? No offense to her, but he'd like someone more destructive. Somewhere between those two extremes. Now that he'd been here for a while, it was probably good to bring someone he's not too familiar with. Never thought I'd say those words. Well, maybe not too unfamiliar, either.

"Medusa."

"Medusa? Smart. Now that we know Servants are likely numerous on the enemy's side, someone as strong as her would be a good counter."

That wasn't really his main reason. He just wanted someone more… quiet after Jean and Leonidas. Though, too quiet would be bad too so…

"Along with Elizabeth," he added, "and Astolfo." It might be a mistake, but Medusa should be able to quiet the two down with a stare, not even the petrifying kind.

"Big battle tomorrow," Ritsuka said. "Then, I'd like to bring Lancelot, Siegfried, and Georgios."

"Lancelot, hm?" Romani rubbed his chin. "You know, he's pretty hard to communicate with, even among Berserkers. At least Spartacus and Kiyohime could use words. Aren't you worried?"

"Not really," he said. "Just because it's not through words doesn't mean we can't 'talk' with each other."

"Huh," Romani said. "That's pretty mature of you."

"I'm just following an example." His gaze shifted to Jean. "Servants or whatever, they're all still people in the end. Masters need to understand that first and foremost. Isn't that right, King?"

"Yeah, sure," King replied absentmindedly. Sounds deep whatever they're talking about. Not sure I get it though.

"We'll notify the Servants. Good night and good luck tomorrow." With that, Olga shut off the comms.

Back in his tent, King thought it had been going smoothly. There had only been two attempts on his life in the past few days. That was almost comparable to how it was back home! Maybe that first Singularity was just bad luck, and hey, they even got the source of that bad luck on their side now.

Everything was gonna be just fine.

"Good work, Romani."

"You too, Director."

The hue of the Command Room's lighting grew soft as a few of staff yawned and went back to their room, slowly being replaced by the graveyard shift. The second time around had been going far smoother than the first, that Olga could say for sure. For once, there was an air of optimism in Chaldea. A real "we're gonna make it" feel. She could see it on their faces, hear it in their talks.

For whatever reason (and with a pang of guilt) she didn't feel quite the same.

She turned to the Command Room's third-in-command. "James, notify the Servants for tomorrow's sortie, will you?"

No reaction. She'd learned to take it as an affirmative.

"You're not leaving?" Romani asked.

"I could ask you the same thing."

"Touche."

She sighed. "I'll wait for the graveyard shift to settle. I want to know if any of them have problems or anything of the sort."

"You've really grown, Director."

"I sure have." It had only been a few days past a month since she met King and her life changed (for better or worse she couldn't tell yet) yet somehow it had felt like forever ago. It was a small lesson that he imparted to her, but the ripples it made had turned her—according to some—to a completely different person. She still didn't know what it meant to be a director—to lead in situation like this, but she was figuring it out, step by step.

And the next step might be to take cue from Chaldea's other Master.

"Ritsuka sure sound confident, doesn't he?" Romani said.

"Mhm."

"What, you don't agree with him?"

"I'm trying to," she said. "I want to."

"But you don't."

"No." She sighed, squeezing her head. "It just doesn't feel right. Our enemy can incinerate the world, pull off an identity theft on Jeanne d'Arc, but this is all they have to defend the Second Singularity? An unpopular side of a civil war against Nero in her prime? It feels like we're missing something but, ugh, I can't place my finger on it!"

"Come on now." Romani laughed. "Have some more optimism. Is it that you can't imagine something good happening without something bad at the same time like there's an imaginary scale? Be a bit more creative!"

Olga let out a single, resigned chuckle. "Maybe you're right."

"I do say good things sometimes!"

"…Hm. I'll consider that when I look at your contract."

"Ha. A raise, right? …Right? Right?!"