The coin is part of an interesting myth. Forgot the actual incident historically, but it's a definite NP.
Glad you enjoyed it; now that I'm past this one part I think I'll be writing a bunch more tonight! I think.
The coin is part of an interesting myth. Forgot the actual incident historically, but it's a definite NP.
Glad you enjoyed it; now that I'm past this one part I think I'll be writing a bunch more tonight! I think.
<NEW FIC!> Revolution #9: Somewhere out there, there's a universe in which your mistakes and failures never happened, and all you wished for is true. How hard would you fight to make that real?
[11:20:46 AM] GlowStiks: lucina is supes attractive
[12:40] Lace: lucina is amazing
[12:40] Neir: lucina is pretty much flawless
I know a handful of myths involving coins...two specific ones in mind atm.Originally Posted by Five_X
F/GO SUPPORT
Eh? Which are they? :3
<NEW FIC!> Revolution #9: Somewhere out there, there's a universe in which your mistakes and failures never happened, and all you wished for is true. How hard would you fight to make that real?
[11:20:46 AM] GlowStiks: lucina is supes attractive
[12:40] Lace: lucina is amazing
[12:40] Neir: lucina is pretty much flawless
The payment due to Charon to cross the River Styx.
And the ones that Yukimura Genjiro Sanada was said to wear as payment Sanzu Rivers.
F/GO SUPPORT
Yo dude, missing good ol' Apostle Judas.
But, none of those are the one I'm talking about in the story! Fufufufufu~
<NEW FIC!> Revolution #9: Somewhere out there, there's a universe in which your mistakes and failures never happened, and all you wished for is true. How hard would you fight to make that real?
[11:20:46 AM] GlowStiks: lucina is supes attractive
[12:40] Lace: lucina is amazing
[12:40] Neir: lucina is pretty much flawless
True, for both. XP
F/GO SUPPORT
Or have an obscene number of routes/Heroines...
Regarding the coin itsSpoiler:
I FUCKING KNEW IT
Erm, I mean, good research Scia. Very good research indeed.
EDIT: Also, Nobunaga confirmed for Harvey Dent.
My quest would be to stop lolis from getting some. XD
Ah, good chapter!
I liked the magi acting like the servants in the mad feast of kings, only with more violence.
Hey there, Elly...I cannot show respect to my own Servant because he is clearly a coloured man trying to usurp white society; why else would a negro be summoned if not to wish for that to defend his brethren? Honestly, I have to lock my door at night and set up wards about my room so that he does not try to defile me as I sleep!
Also, really, Dietrich is the only one behaving like a proper guest here. Almost classy. He gained quite a few point in this capter. Plus:
Oh, so much this. SO MUCH THIS.“As you all seem so interested, I will then tell you of my tribulations and experiences with an event quite like this one, in the land of Japan...”
Will we get a spinoff with Dietrich in HGWIII? Yes? Yes?
MPII/ZERO GOOOO... ("MP0"? :3)
Ahahahahah!!! Poor Monty!!!“Hahaha! What a fool! You're not even a general and you sit amongst us!” Saber narrowed her eyes at Moctezuma, jeering at him, her arms crossed.
Ohoh! hello, new guest...The door slammed open wide, nearly breaking off of its hinges from the power that had been used merely to open it, and through it stepped a man in lamellar armour, a thin moustache on the smooth skin of his face, his helmet fanciful and with curved horns jutting out from either side, making the man look like nothing less than a demon risen from hell.
A question: is Alexander like Iskandar, or closer to actual depictions of him (I already know he has heterochromia, but what about height)?
Whoa, Sherrin, didn't recognize you without your avatar.
Sherrin is now a faceless robot.
Ah, so that is the upgrade he got. Eeeenteresting.
Also, Alexander here is more like IRL Alexander, rather than F/Z version.
<NEW FIC!> Revolution #9: Somewhere out there, there's a universe in which your mistakes and failures never happened, and all you wished for is true. How hard would you fight to make that real?
[11:20:46 AM] GlowStiks: lucina is supes attractive
[12:40] Lace: lucina is amazing
[12:40] Neir: lucina is pretty much flawless
Hm as the Generals where already at the Topic of legacy, would anyone ask alexander if he left his empire to the strongest as the legend goes or not?
Who knows!? I don't.
<NEW FIC!> Revolution #9: Somewhere out there, there's a universe in which your mistakes and failures never happened, and all you wished for is true. How hard would you fight to make that real?
[11:20:46 AM] GlowStiks: lucina is supes attractive
[12:40] Lace: lucina is amazing
[12:40] Neir: lucina is pretty much flawless
Have someone ask him and have him give another response that could be two different things.
Hello, everyone! I apologize profusely for being really late with this chapter, but it should be good! Just... this bit of the story is kind of awkward to write since it has a strange flow to it, but I'm trying my best. It should be easier to do the next chapter, though I've got a couple or so omakes to do before that one will be out.
I hope you all enjoy this chapter!
--------------------
XLIII
Twenty years ago...
A shape moved about in the darkness ahead, melded within the shadows themselves like a spectre of a man. Its movements were erratic and unpredictable, but there was no doubt that they had purpose to them. The figure advanced ever forwards in the thick, cold air of the night, cloudy white breaths visible from where its mouth should have been.
Another figure, cloaked in a vibrant green and orange robe and with a modest crown upon his head, floated just a foot above the ground upon a spoked disc that looked much like a sideways wheel, perhaps belonging to some old, grand chariot. Its rider crossed his arms, and he looked over at the shadowy form that made its way through the scattered trees and rocks.
This battlefield had been chosen exactly because of its tactical value. With various natural obstacles, the warrior cloaked in darkness would be at a disadvantage against the dark-skinned man who could move about much more freely on his hovering disc.
Though the clouds threatened rain and the night's fog was so thick that it could be cut straight through, this stood to be a good proving ground of the power of these two Servants.
Through the scope of his sniper rifle Dietrich watched all of this, his sight magically amplified by the magus crouched beside him; they were out of sight behind an outcropping of rocks and shrubs and were far enough away from their foe, the mad warrior ahead, that their own Servant, a Rider, could deal with any threats to them instantaneously. Their plan was simple enough and had been the result of a good deal of research and preparation. Dietrich could only hope that this would pay off in the end.
“Rider is up ahead, approximately ten metres away from Berserker... we can see him, but I doubt Rider has an exact view. We're safe here for the moment.” Dietrich gave his terse judgement of their situation, finding it to be advantageous. He let a smile slip onto his face for a moment, but little more. There was no time now to be merely observing; as he was sent to aid the magus beside him, he was to use his own talents to achieve victory.
He gripped the wooden handle of a grenade, wrapping his fingers around it just long enough to assure himself of his own ability to throw. Taking one last glance at the patch of trees where he knew the Berserker was hiding, he wrenched his arm forward in an arc, letting out a grunt. The grenade slipped from his grasp, flying forward to land with a crack and a flash of explosive light and shrapnel.
Yet, just as soon as it sparked into existence, that small light was absorbed by the walking mass of darkness itself.
The shadowy warrior was only barely revealed in his hiding place, and Rider moved ahead to intercept him as he moved to another thick shadow. Dietrich took in a deep breath, smelling the smoke in the air, and watched the show playing out before him.
Setting his bare feet upon the ground, Rider narrowed his eyes in the direction of Berserker, seeing the fighter dash about with incredible speed, a blur following him as he half-absorbed into the nightly shadows. Ripples of power silently shook through the air and grass and dirt were tossed up; Berserker made an immediate about turn to face the slowly oncoming Rider, who appeared to be in no hurry at all at the moment. He bowed to his opponent, then stared right into his eyes.
Berserker clenched both fists, his body shaking, and the shadows covering his body slipped from his form into the ground, dashing like solid spikes towards Rider, who hardly reacted at all. He was utterly calm at this onslaught.
Raising his hand into the air as if lifting a weight, Rider summoned forth from the ground the great wheel he was standing on not long before, and placed it, floating, before himself. The shadows lashed out at it, but recoiled back as soon as they met its solid edge. Rider frowned, and the wheel began to spin, very slowly at first, then reaching an immense speed, turning on its side; the friction of its smooth surface against the cold ground could be felt as heat in the air, such was its power.
“I shall allow the chakra to judge you this night, my foe.” spoke the noble king calmly, and his wheel struck out forward along the ground, sparks lining its edge, lighting up the battlefield in the night. Dietrich smiled. This was exactly what he had been waiting for.
Berserker clashed his sword against the oncoming wheel, but it was as if he hadn't even done a thing to resist; the grand wheel overtook him, trampling him and entangling the man in its spokes. It turned again, spinning more slowly, holding Berserker suspended in the air. He was beaten against the ground time and time again, his body wracked with sparking light that arced along his pale, shadowed skin. Rider merely watched, his arms crossed, viewing this spectacle as if he wasn't even a participant in it. It was a strange sort of detachment from the situation, but it defined his personality.
Dietrich nodded to the magus he was watching over, and the man let out a sigh.
“Rider. Call off your attack.” His order was simple yet reluctant, given over their mental link. According to Dietrich their goal had been reached for tonight, but the magus himself, Master of Rider, didn't himself understand what exactly the Nazi officer wanted; he was just hired to work for the German government, that was all, and Dietrich had been assigned to watch him.
Clenching his fist, Rider recalled the wheel, watching it dissipate into fragments that floated away on the wind. He dashed off in a run from the sight, returning to his Master and leaving the Berserker battered on the ground, weakened but still very much alive. A counterattack would be impossible for him now, but he was still a formidable opponent; Rider himself could sense that much.
Even if that wheel had dashed him against a castle wall, he would still be standing, and his rage would be far from quenched.
The moon was still hidden behind a set of heavy clouds in the sky, its gleam dulled. “Alright, that should be enough for now.” Dietrich glanced once more at the battlefield. “One last Servant and I can turn in my report to my superiors. Be glad; tomorrow we will likely begin our war in earnest.”
-- --
That was but a fragment of the story Dietrich told, and he took note of the varying expressions on the faces of his audience:
James and Nigel were united in their general scorn, but neither could deny their interest in this man's exploits. Francois wondered how he could summon a Servant for the Manhattan War if he himself was not a magus, and Eleanor almost asked in the middle of his recitation about the identities of the different Servants and people he mentioned.
James scoffed when Dietrich folded his hands together, leaning back in his chair. “So, I was right. You weren't just some German, you were an actual, bona fide Nazi. Why the hell are you even here? You're a Nazi, whether you believe in that shit anymore or not, so getting around, especially to the United States, must've been hard to do.”
The man nodded, expecting such a question. “Indeed. I forged an identity for myself, and made a few friends in the Kremlin. Do you really think only the upper crust of magi entered into this war? Ha! Nepotism as usual, favouring those with social ties and strengths rather than those with actual competence.” His lip creased into a sneer. “That was exactly what Hitler got wrong. We could have won the war, if not for the failures of Barbarossa and Dunkirk, among others.”
Laughing, James was still clearly intent on deriding the man. “Blaming your superiors, as expected of a Nazi. You just ran around like headless chickens trying to avoid getting any problems placed on you while men like my dad ran into France right under your noses and shot you back to where you belonged!”
“Well, I apologize for being involved in a system that I myself recognize as flawed. I could do better myself, to be perfectly honest; the party could have used some real pragmatism, and a decentralization of command to give more flexibility to talented officers like myself.” Dietrich let out an annoyed sigh, both at what he remembered of his superior officers and others as well as James' insistence on blaming his own character for being wrong.
Nigel just shook his head at them both. “How about we get off that damned topic and talk about something else, hm? The story was lovely, Dietrich, but not really to my taste. Wonderful historical piece you gave us there, though. I can appreciate it as that, at the very least, even if the idea behind it is rather incorrect. However, I won't react like James, and I'll try to be more 'rational' from now on. I do hope it pleases you.” He did his best to hide the layer of sarcasm that coated his words, but at this point he was getting bored.
Across the table, Francois spoke up. “I have a question for our hostess, now. That is, if she'd be willing to answer at all.”
“Yes, please!” She smiled. “It would be perfectly fine. Ask away!”
Francois crossed his arms. “So, what have you planned for tonight? You said there would be a battle, or something like that? The Servants are probably getting restless, and we shouldn't keep them waiting until they get bored. You haven't done anything to impress us, I can say that much.”
Eleanor nodded, yawning slightly. She checked a clock, and saw that it was already past nine in the evening, and that made her feel even more tired. “Ah, actually...” She fidgeted in her chair. “I thought this would not take long, but it has... I am sorry, but would you mind staying here for a few days, at most? There is far too much for us to do in just a night's time!”
“Bloody hell, girl!” Nigel rested his face in his hands, almost wanting to just give up. “We've got a war to fight here! Who the hell knows what might happen while we're off lounging about in this wonderful, comfortable mansion of yours?”
The girl closed her eyes and nodded, her thin lips forming a smile. “I understand. However, we have quite a fine stock of teas in the pantry and wines in the cellar, and I would be more than willing to show them to you, if you wish.”
He let out a sigh. “Ah, goddamn it. You win that round, but the hell else have you got here? We need a lot to make up for a whole few days of not doing anything about the war!”
The answer to that was simple. “Of course we're still fighting the war; it is only natural! There is just the caveat that we will be fighting each other on, say... the third night of being here? That leaves tomorrow and the next morning for preparation. Is that acceptable? We will not be leaving this mansion until that time has passed, but it shouldn't be much, should it?”
James shrugged. “Honestly? I'm not sure. Having been inactive for so long, I really want to go out tonight with Saber and do some fighting around the city. It'd be good to do that, and get ourselves back into that regular schedule. I hate doing nothing.”
“As do we all.” said Dietrich with a wise nod. “However, you must take your Servant's own emotions into account. There's no less than a strong chance that she could want to stay here and do nothing. You can't argue against that, could you?”
Furrowing his brow, James remembered those nights in which Saber would just lock herself in his bedroom and read or do whatever she did in there. “You're right, I guess, but I just don't want to be doing nothing. There has to be a purpose to this.”
“There is a purpose!” Eleanor's voice sounded almost annoyed, as if James had offended her directly. “Our Servants will all fight after some time. Do you not want to talk amongst each other? Masters speaking with Servants, conversations building... it could be interesting!”
Francois was accepting of the idea, and stood up, his legs already feeling weak from the labours of the day. “Well, my personal opinion is that Servants will invariably end up spending time with their Masters rather than anyone else, but if you think you have everything planned out right, then I'm willing to see how it all turns out in the end.” He winced slightly, as if some random pain had struck him in the back. “Hm... for now, though, I have to ask about where we're going to be sleeping.”
Eleanor raised a finger and smiled happily. “I will show you to them right now, if you wish!”
She stood up beside Francois, seemingly full of energy now that he asked her a question about getting rest. “This manor has enough space to accommodate two dozen guests, but for simplicity's sake I'll have one wing of the building dedicated to the basic rooms, with variations available upon request. Think of it as a true opportunity, to be able to sample any of my wealth. I must admit, it gets lonely in this mansion, so having all of these guests will be more than welcome.”
Then, the tiredness set in, and she yawned. “Hah, but... now, I'll show you to your rooms, or at least to where the rooms you will probably end up in are, and I will relay a message to my Rider to tell your Servants exactly what I have told you.” With one final yawn acting as a period to end her sentence, she walked out of the conference room, the other Masters following close behind.
-- --
The wild-eyed man paused for effect, his grin wicked. It was almost frightening, how a man who normally looked so simple could appear as a hellish monster merely by changing his attitude. His very presence exuded a reek of ill-gotten power that would make lesser people bow in awe, if only because they would want this man to spare their lives rather than murdering them on the spot.
He let out a loud, booming laugh. “I am the Demon King of the Sixth Heaven, Oda Nobunaga, Lord and Conqueror of all Japan, before whom all shall bow!” He waited for a moment, as if to let his name sink in, looking pleased as a few of the people before him nodded in recognition.
“I have been summoned into the Archer class, but know that no mere boundary like that can set my glory as lesser than even the greatest of swordsmen, or the fleetest of horsemen. No gods favour me, for they know my ways too well, and so I have bartered with demons.”
His lips curled into a sneer like a sly beast. “Be glad; in times past all those not behind me have been crushed and scattered into disarray, their courage and skill useless before my raw power. I can only hope that, by being amongst glorious generals and warriors, that I can once again prove my worth to the world I once again walk upon.”
Taking a seat by himself, he left two empty chairs on either side, not seeing anyone as being worthy of being beside him and thus counted as his equal. Pushing himself back from the table a foot or so, he swung up his legs and set them upon the dark wood, showing all of the respect he had for the mansion, its owner, and the people seated at the table around him. A look of utter superiority on his face, he leaned back and crossed his arms, not once even blinking as he stared into the eyes of his fellow leaders. He wouldn't squander this second chance at conquest he had miraculously been given.
Hannibal let out a sigh, his expression entirely neutral. “A true general needs no aid from demons or from gods. A general may serve them, just as any other, but should never require their direct intervention. What I accomplished was done with my own skill, and the others at this table would tell you the same.”
Roughly across the table, Alexander had similar sentiments, scoffing at Nobunaga's boasts. “And I am the son of Zeus himself, no less!” he shouted after sipping from a goblet of wine. “I have to say I'm impressed by your determination and strength of character, but you will never conquer Alexander! Hannibal is exactly right: I was barely a man, relying on my own education, talent and philosophy, and I never lost even one battle. You, however...” He pointed a finger at Nobunaga, stabbing it in his direction. “You are barely more worthy of sitting at this table than Moctezuma! Regardless of your title as a 'Demon King' or your luck, you are no true general. Even Napoleon was successful despite his faults, more successful than you! Any lucky man can replicate your feats, but it takes someone of true intelligence to conquer half of Asia, to be the King of Conquerors!”
“King of Conquerors?” wondered Nobunaga, tasting that title on his tongue, examining how it felt as he spoke it. He waved his hand, dismissing it entirely. “I united nearly all of a warring Japan, with great generals at every turn and every nuance of combat being not just options but tactical realities! I succeeded as a general, an admiral, and as a politician. I cowed even the fearless Japanese men who stood against me, crossing the foulest terrain and suffering setbacks more often than I can count. Despite that, I died a victor, knowing that my legacy would never be forgotten.”
Sitting beside Alexander, Saber could hardly be bothered to respond, but something Nobunaga had said sparked her interest. “Divide et impera. A simple strategy, but a successful one. You strike me as fairly shrewd, Nobunaga. You may be a successful general, but only time will tell.” She shrugged. “I harbour little resentment towards you, but I have to say that if respect is what you desire, then you had best show your worth to the greatest generals humanity has seen when the time for such has come. Otherwise, you will be a pathetic laughingstock, and nothing more.” Her words were harsh, but to Nobunaga they were like drops of cool spring rain on his skin.
His smile grew wider, and he laughed again. “You're Caesar, hmm? The legendary dictator of Rome, conqueror of Gaul and orator. Your record is impressive, but you lacked ruthlessness. You should have burned those who stood before you, crucified Pompey and his tired infidels, and reigned with an iron fist. If you had done so, then perhaps you would have been more successful, and would have lived longer.”
“That would be utterly barbaric!” She shook her head in disgust, sneering at Nobunaga. “If you cannot show respect for those you fight, regardless of a victory or a defeat, then you are lost as a general and as a person. It is the responsibility of civilized people to avoid barbarity, and committing vast atrocities is only too cruel to hold in any sort of esteem. A punishment should be appropriate to the context of a situation, rather than arbitrarily given as a savage show of one's own power.”
Hannibal nodded, sagely, listening intently to the discussion. “The truly great and honourable are those who can show mercy, instead of just killing indiscriminately. It isn't wrong to spare someone from suffering, unless they've committed their own wrongs against you. A battle well fought is one fought with respect. Unfortunately, those can be difficult to find, and I rarely was met with one in my own life. Scipio was the closest I came to that, but even then I was left with a bitter taste in my mouth.”
“Battles are to be conducted with elegance and decorum.” The Frenchman gave his opinion on the conversation. “Glory comes in a hard-won victory, not in the aftermath. To see one's own tactics go perfectly right, and to have a battle play out like a classical orchestra...” Napoleon closed his eyes and let out a calm, satisfied sigh. “Truly, there's nothing better in the whole of the world!”
Hearing these varied but fundamentally similar opinions, Nobunaga frowned. It wasn't a frown of anger or hatred, but of genuine disappointment. “Elegance and honour are for monks and warriors, not for generals. We are a different breed; we have to give up polite conduct and win no matter the cost. Tricks and schemes are merely a part of the lifestyle of a general, no matter how much they offend honour.”
The dark glimmer in his eyes had faded away, and now he seemed perhaps sober, or even subdued. He closed his eyes, and hung his head.
“He is too right.” The ever-silent monolith of the group finally spoke up, his voice deep and commanding attention despite his humble nature. “If your enemy is dishonourable and peppers you with tricks and falsehoods, then should you still react with respect? I cannot respect those who try to manipulate others with false friendships and respect that fades away like smoke when it isn't useful. A true leader displays their power openly and leaves no room for any tricks. This way, any judgement that turns out to be poor on your foe's behalf is their fault, not yours. It is acceptable to mislead someone if they would mislead you otherwise, and if they have shown themselves to be disrespectful and selfishly manipulative, then they deserve no mercy at all. Honour is good, but in the face of dishonour its principles lose their worth.”
He was surprisingly verbose, enough to even catch an intrigued eye from Saber herself, as well as Alexander, who knew about Moctezuma's own plights, and while he did understand the tragedy of his existence, he could never see him as anything near an equal as a leader. Few people could.
It was a dark topic, one all too dark for this gathering but perfectly expected amongst this group of six. Their personalities either clashed or matched, and few of them had the exact same opinion. Disagreement was to be expected in this scenario, and there was nothing that could be done. At most, the conversation could be dropped, but at the same time there was a sort of cruel interest in pressing the subject farther, just to see what emotions it would bring up. After all, even these leaders had their own breaking points, and they just needed someone willing to reach them.
Immersing himself in the context of the situation without speaking much at all, Hannibal listened closely, interested in hearing all of these opinions and rationalizations from these varied generals. Too rarely did he get to meet great leaders of men and commanders such as these, and he wasn't going to waste this opportunity. The topic of honour didn't interest him so much as something else on his mind, and he was all too eager to branch off the conversation to something he thought was much more appropriate and less personal than the idea of honour broken and misused.
“Hmm. What diversity we have here!” he exclaimed, breaking the long silence that had reigned upon the room after Moctezuma ended his speech. “We have leaders from Japan, Greece, France, Africa, Mesoamerica and even Rome. We'd best be given an opportunity to fight each other, or this will just be a waste. I feel as though my skills have been dormant for too long, much too long.”
Saber smiled and let out a laugh, glancing shortly at Moctezuma who was silent and frowning. “I would postpone this fool's Grail War just for the opportunity to express my skills at the art of conquest and massed battles! Battling heroes is perfectly interesting, but truly the only things that can make my heart race with the sheer emotion and nature of them are sex and war! I wish to see my legionaries again, and once more direct them to the distant horizon, seeking the perfection of the art that is generalship. Would you not agree?” She asked this question to all those gathered, spreading her own eagerness to lead troops to nearly all the other generals listening to her.
“Perhaps.” Napoleon shrugged, looking over towards Nobunaga, who still had his feet up on the table, his expression proud and wild. “To be honest, I have to say that I'm equally interested in the cultures of the different people we have here. Hannibal may want exotic battles to see how he can adapt to the different soldiers we all have, but I want to study the society and the nature of the Japanese and the Aztecs, getting to know them as I was unable to in life. Certainly, I would consider myself an amateur historian, that being one of the things that I put my focus on, but there is nothing like seeing true history for yourself, and making it. I must say, I am feeling much more confident about my skills, and fighting all of you may be a grand test of my own abilities.” He reached out an open hand, leaning over towards Moctezuma who hadn't spoken another word in this new branch of the conversation.
At first looking at it like something foreign and diseased, Moctezuma eventually relented and shook Napoleon's hand, offering a very slight smile as he did so. Napoleon laughed happily, in good spirits now that he had been roused into his natural terrain, the discussion of battle and in the company of generals old and young. It was a true treat, he had to admit, and admittedly it was another, smaller wish that Napoleon had from the very start of this Manhattan War.
The six shared a few more words amongst each other, showing much more camaraderie than before, despite a lack of respect between a few parties. Regardless of who they were or what they thought of each other, in the end they were all leaders, commanders of troops that had been remembered by history in some way or another, and it was their shared love of war that united them. Even Moctezuma came to be seen as an interesting leader, and the others about him tried to guess what sort of military feat he would recreate when the time came for them all to battle.
At one point, after their long discussion had trailed off, Montezuma raised a finger to his temple, concentrating on something. He shut out the last few people speaking, and nodded twice at the voice he was hearing. It was Eleanor's, and the information she imparted to him was nothing that he hadn't expected to hear.
“Everyone!” announced Moctezuma, raising his hand to call for a silence. “My Master has spoken to me, and she requires that all of you lodge here for an extended time, perhaps two more nights at most. There are rooms prepared, and it is recommended that you visit your Masters to organize whatever you brought here. There is no curfew, but you are expected to be respectful.”
Nobunaga laughed at the mention of 'respect,' hearkening back to the conversation they had not so long ago, but otherwise kept silent. He knew that he was an unexpected guest, after all, and his Master certainly was less orthodox than anything the other Servants here could boast about.
They exited the conference room in an ordered single file, with Moctezuma taking the lead, followed by Hannibal and Napoleon and with Alexander and Caesar at the very back, speaking a few words to each other at the table before joining the others.
-- --
James stretched his arms wide as he yawned. It was getting late, and he hardly had the energy anymore to unpack the few things he had brought with him. Even though he hadn't expected to have had to stay here for days, doing all of this still felt like a chore, and he was a little homesick. As strange as it was, he liked that little apartment he had, and wanted to see it again. Just being there for barely a day wasn't enough for him, and as luxurious as this place was, it was far from what he called home.
The single king-sized bed had four posts and a canopy, very rich and essentially the image of luxury. Its sheets were a red silk, and the pillows were the same colour but darker. Through a door across the room from James was a large en suite bathroom, clean and organized with a number of towels and such prepared; the closet in the bedroom itself spanned a quarter of the length of one wall, and James was almost afraid to look in. There was a landscape painting on the wall of a hill overlooking a wide river mouth; James didn't recognize the location but admired the elegance and precision of the oil painting's very nature. Even the floor was impressive, being smooth, polished hardwood, with a Persian rug sitting at the foot of the bed.
Sighing, James looked out of the long window that faced outwards at the forest, giving him the slightest view of the city that lay by the river in the distance.
Earlier, Saber had come into the room, and while at first it looked as though she was settling down for the night when she started getting changed, she just left soon afterwards without a word. She only said 'Hello' to James, changed into her more comfortable and casual attire, and then left. It was completely in character for her, James recalled, and there was nothing he thought he could do about it. As much as he wanted to talk with her about her own experiences with the Servants, she was flighty and couldn't be controlled.
James clenched his fist, resting it on the floor. He had to wonder how much longer he could put up with Saber's behaviour.
-- --
In the hallway on the other side of the mansion, Saber was pressed against the wall, her heart pounding as if to escape her chest.
Alexander's hand slipped up to the back of her thigh and he kept his lips tight against hers, kissing her with reckless passion. Her fingers ran through his soft blonde hair until her hand pressed against the back of his head, and she hardly wanted to let go. Alexander's bronzed skin was hot, and Saber wanted to feel every single inch of him. Their fingers were entwined, Saber's other hand pushed against the wall just as the rest of her body was, and she tightened her grip, a flush of red coming over her cheeks as Alexander slid his hand right between her legs.
Their night had just begun.
-- --
“Ah, such a wonderful man you are!” Saber crooned as she lay on the bed of Alexander's personal room, her arms wrapped about the man's waist and the blanket wrapping her body in turn. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, contemplative as he stared into the mirror opposite him.
“It's been a long while since I have had the time for pleasure.” Alexander shrugged his broad shoulders, not turning to face Saber. He wore a bitter smile on his face; only half of his attention was on Saber and their time together, as certain other things called to him more intently.
The companionship he'd had that night brought back some of his most vivid memories, and yet his emotions were conflicted.
He patted Saber on the shoulder, ensuring that she wasn't asleep. “In your lifetime, there were people you care for, weren't there? Friends, lovers?”
“Of course. Caesar was the most famous man in Rome for decades after his death.” She tilted her head lazily, somewhat curious. “But few can compare to the web of relations had by the King of Conquerors, of his friends and enemies and lovers.”
“The problem with friends is that they have their own ambitions, and lovers always have a knife readied in their hand.” Alexander let out a sigh, which turned halfway into a cough, and he just shook his head in disappointment.
Saber raised her body up, holding herself closer to Alexander. “Surely there was someone you could trust, who knew your desires and shared them?”
“He died.” Alexander's words were harsh, unforgiving. “Of all the people in my life, he died, and the rest bickered over my corpse and fought each other to the death. Why? Couldn't they agree, and share power, or determine a leader amongst themselves? I trusted all my empire to them in my last moments, and... perhaps I was wrong. In the end, all that I accomplished – no, all that we accomplished, was for nothing, as if they never really cared.”
Comforting lips pressed against his neck, and hands soothed his aching shoulders. “The people you want to trust most in life are almost always the ones who betray you. Sons, brothers, lovers, and everyone you find most important. They all know deceit, and see only themselves as being just.”
“It should never be that way!” Alexander clenched his fist, and the light massage to his shoulders stopped just as quickly. “So much pain and suffering could have been avoided; I could rest in peace if only he had lived!”
He took in a short, sharp breath. “When I laid him to rest... perhaps it was then that I, too, died, and our dream was buried with me.”
---------------------------
A lot of interesting things happened, eh? I hope you all liked it!
And yeah, it's Nobunaga! I totally didn't base him off of his Sengoku Basara appearance or anything, definitely.
If you didn't expect Caesarko and Alexander to be fucking by the end of the chapter, you are more than likely blind.
Finally, again... you're welcome, Spinach. That was indeed a flashback to the Third Holy Grail War. :P
Last edited by Five_X; August 22nd, 2012 at 02:14 AM.
<NEW FIC!> Revolution #9: Somewhere out there, there's a universe in which your mistakes and failures never happened, and all you wished for is true. How hard would you fight to make that real?
[11:20:46 AM] GlowStiks: lucina is supes attractive
[12:40] Lace: lucina is amazing
[12:40] Neir: lucina is pretty much flawless
One minor nitpick - that shadowy Berserker should be naked and unarmed. :3
Also, where is my CaesarxAlexander lemon, motha fucka?
He's clothed in shadows, bro. Plus, in this he has Durendal, because that's the catalyst he was summoned with.
And the lemon is coming soon; it's one of the omakes I'll give you before next chapter. I've written out a bunch of it already, and it's fucking hot.
<NEW FIC!> Revolution #9: Somewhere out there, there's a universe in which your mistakes and failures never happened, and all you wished for is true. How hard would you fight to make that real?
[11:20:46 AM] GlowStiks: lucina is supes attractive
[12:40] Lace: lucina is amazing
[12:40] Neir: lucina is pretty much flawless
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