Chapter 16
The Lady
It was a situation Saber knew very well, to forge a path so that others may follow in her wake. She now waited, having assured the path was clear and safe, as her allies made their way to new shelter.
Dawn rose, glaring off of the sea and illuminating the way. The ship, a large fishing vessel with gold and red trim, did not stand out amidst other fishing and cargo boats in various shapes and sizes around the harbor. Saber waited on the deck by the loading ramp, once more clothed like a young woman. Shirou had joked earlier that the cover she would have to provide if questioned was that of a foreign student that was studying Japan’s whaling practices. Saber suggested preying on octopus instead.
Hakuno was the last to board, her rifle hidden away in a case that made it look like she was transporting a large musical instrument. She did not need to be flagged down, but Saber still kept a close eye on the shadows of buildings behind her for signs of a tail before letting her on.
“I could really go for some tomato soup now,” Hakuno said. “Urgh.”
Saber of course agreed, but she watched the youngster carefully. “I would think sleep would be the first thing on your mind.”
The mousy girl gave a strange sort of smile. “No, sleep is really the last thing I worry about.”
It was this ship that had served as Shirou, Hakuno, and Julius’ home for the past couple of years. Hakuno and Julius had arrived in Japan with it, although they left it abandoned to start on the idea that potential enemies might scope out new arrivals like it. Now it would be their place of operations for a while at least, warded against intrusion and detection by boundary fields Luvia and Tasmir put up. Although it still retained the top deck equipment for fishing, the lower areas were completely reworked to function as mage workshops.
“Not that we’re all that complicated,” Hakuno said as she led Saber to the main living space beneath the wheel room. “In fact, don’t call it a workshop in front of the actual magi. They might, uh, be offended.”
“I remember Shirou’s workspace,” Saber said. “I can understand why.”
After leaving her day bag in one of the bunkrooms, Hakuno took the Servant to the mess where the majority had convened. All except Waver, who had already sequestered himself in one of the cabins to sleep.
“He ran dry and isn’t used to running around,” Avin said when that fact came to light. Despite having cracked a rib and suffered a concussion, he appeared full of energy and was busy marking down locations on a map of the city. Locations where they had found activity from the Association, the places where they could have been seen gathering, and the likely layout of the artificial leyline the unknown Master had created.
Rin scowled at the student, although it was clear her anger was directed at the subject of discussion. “I mean, I’m grateful for the help, but I—we could have handled it,” she said, amending her statement as Luvia stared her down. “I would much prefer he actually use his energy on this kind of situation.”
“Situation?” Saber asked.
“Sella and Liz are trying to keep track of the Einons and we still haven’t mapped out the Association’s locations or movements,” Shirou said. “Waver’s better at methodical strategy than field tactics.” He was busy fiddling with a splint around his arm and waving Sakura off from fussing over him.
Hakuno, as promised, was in the galley to prepare some food. She said, “We still did pretty well considering that guy didn’t look like he was part of the Association’s plans either.” She had to squeeze around people as she did so; although a large vessel for just the three of them, with everyone but the homunculi in the same space it was rather crowded.
“What is the story of this ship to begin with?” Saber asked.
“It’s called Cardinal Red.” Shirou had a cabinet open and was alternatively shoving gear in and pulling other things out. “It was provided by the Church in a situation that was…well, it was on purpose that the name we gave it didn’t sit well with them.”
Saber’s brow furrowed. “Is it not inefficient and possibly dangerous to be even passively insulting to such a group?”
“I hate to disappoint you, Saber, but I’ve earned quite a number of bad habits over the years.”
“If you say I’m to blame, I’m kicking you where the sun doesn’t shine,” Rin muttered.
“No worries, Rin, I’ll never be as bad as you, promise.”
While the witch fumed, Saber looked around once more. A larger ship, she was sure that it was meant to be operated by a larger crew complement. She supposed magecraft might be responsible for cutting that down. Shirou’s own understanding of structural integrity and ability to discern parts that might be wearing down must have been a factor. It would not surprise her to find that Julius and Hakuno both provided some kind of expertise that was suitable for maintenance or operation as well.
“As the Association already has a network in place, it should be relatively safe since we abandoned it early for the hotel. If it is discovered, we are clear of a large civilian population, so an approach will be easier to detect and people won’t get caught in the way.” Julius, too, was preparing food. “Of course, it also means escaping would be difficult, so we are already looking at using other locations like the house we were just at as regrouping points in the hopes that any Association magi will continue to look in the wrong places if they manage to follow us after an engagement.”
“‘Course, if you get seasick, not much we can help you with,” Hakuno said.
Saber said, “Then I will rest for a quick moment and take watch for the remainder of the day, in case danger should follow us here.”
“Yeah, we need to set up a lab here anyway,” Avin said.
“Down in hold three, I’ll show you there in a moment,” Shirou said. “Saber, the bunkrooms are—”
“I saw as much. I will not be long.”
[]==|{::::::::::::::::::::::::::>
The scenery changed, yet stayed the same.
The sight was a familiar one, oddly anachronistic to what Saber understood of the modern era and how things were manufactured. Although anything from factory workers to artisans still utilized hands-on techniques, there was something entirely raw and basic about it that stood out to her as being “old-fashioned.”
A blacksmith’s forge. Lit by a set of lanterns and the light from the fire. Sparks like fairy dust flew up, although once more no hammer was responsible for shaping the metal—instead, the sword gave off the glow itself.
Her sword, yet not her sword. She understood without seeing any visible difference, and for a time wondered if the emotions he felt in this distant memory were clouding her own thoughts. It looked identical. The gold guard, the tapering point, the letters that only Merlin and the Lady of the Lake could read. Even as she held memories of Caliburn fondly in her heart, she could not deny the strength possessed in the weapon that would one day become synonymous with her existence.
It stayed for a moment, then dissipated with another shower of golden embers flying from the blade.
An image he could not hold. A memory he could not reproduce. A power he could not create.
The promise of victory he could not make.
He stood over the faded image. His hair had faded to white, his shoulders broadened from the memories of before, closer to what he was now. Closer to the man in red that had once been called “Archer.” The main difference was the expression he held: still not quite the hawkish, cynical glare of the Heroic Spirit. Instead, there was a touch of wistfulness. He appeared every bit as self-depreciating, but still desired something more.
Somehow, the thought of it made Saber upset. A brilliant wish on the battlefield—in all its terrible and wondrous glory—that was what made up the mindset of the Lady when she had produced the sword. Saber knew that to both enemy and ally alike, it evoked something primordial within their hearts, a place of equality that brought them all onto the same level of those that fought for a reason, any reason. The furthering of one’s nation, the love of one’s family, the glory of a lone knight before a hoard of enemies, even the desperate desire for survival each soldier grasped for amidst inevitable death.
In the most remote corner of her own heart, she had found elation on that night when he had said in her defense: “There is nothing in me that can replace you.” Even as shallow and simple a reason as her presence could give him purpose. In coming to love him, she knew too his faults and weaknesses. He needed something there to fill what had left him empty before. If but for a little while, she was glad to be that for him.
Without her, did it mean that he had not found something else to fill that vacancy? She thought that it was possible that his failure to reproduce the weapon to his own standards might be overcome if he had reason within him.
Without a reason, he could not comprehend the weapon.
A sword that channeled what lay within the warrior.
“I am the bone of my sword” were his words, his truth.
If what was within him was void, what was within the weapon would be as well.
[]==|{::::::::::::::::::::::::::>
In truth, exploring the bunkrooms was the real reason Saber wanted to rest.
She only rested for an hour, not even reaching midday before she was up again. While she was not currently gaining magical energy from Shirou—he had exhausted his reserves much as Waver had—the use of the Command Spell had left her overflowing with energy without an outlet. Her thoughts while at rest, alongside the memories granted to her by the Master-Servant pathway, left her feeling uneasy.
The Cardinal Red was spacious enough that even if Sella and Leysritt were to join them, there were enough beds for everyone to rest at the same time. Still, Saber had found herself resting in the cabin Shirou used as his room. Like she had somewhat expected, it was sparse and held nothing of particular sentimentality. While she tried to put herself in his place and see from his perspective, Saber briefly wondered if her own sleeping quarters in Camelot had also been as bereft of life. Somehow, it seemed so far off that she could not recall clearly what had occupied it.
Back out into the mess, only Hakuno and Julius remained; the others had either retired as well or had taken to the space in the holds where they could set up a workshop.
Saber stared down at the food set out in front of them. “Have you been eating this entire time?”
Julius had a spoon halfway to his mouth. He looked down at it, a strangely contemplative expression on his face. “Huh. It seems I didn’t believe him when he said a Heroic Spirit was food-obsessed.”
The way Saber narrowed her eyes and turned her chin up at that was almost threatening. “That is not what I was referring to. It has been over an hour since you began.”
As if to offer a wronged authority a sacrifice, Hakuno slid a bowl to where Saber sat at the table. “We eat a lot when we can. I mean, we didn’t really have much at Mister Velvet’s place and have been running around a lot since the hotel.”
“I understand.” Saber tried thinking of another way to say what was on her mind. “Is it often that you gorge yourself like this?”
“G-gorge?”
Perhaps not the correct way to phrase it. “I wondered if, while in transit to a location or preparing for a battle, if the three of you often find yourself eating here.”
The horrified look on the girl’s face passed, although she now looked down at the bowl before her like it might be a new enemy. Julius answered instead. “We do. Often working out plans while we do. Probably why we take so long, since we talk a lot.” He gave her a shrewd look. “And talking takes up a lot of energy.”
Apparently, Shirou had told them enough of the war ten years before that they felt comfortable enough to tease her. Saber nearly snorted. “I suppose so.” She took the offered food, as if to join in on this planning. “An interesting choice of…war room. I suppose this ship would count as your fortress.”
“More hideout,” Hakuno said. “I mean, a mobile fortress sounds cool and all, but this isn’t nearly that protective.”
Saber nodded. “I do wonder at the name, however. Perhaps it is not so in this era, but to a Servant, names are important. If this is an insult to a powerful group, it seems that the name would call down unwanted ire.”
“Well…maybe,” Hakuno said. She looked around as if someone might be listening in, then leaned forward. “It isn’t something we say to his face, but we never call it Cardinal Red, though. In fact, the official papers it has in this country has something completely different.”
“Lady of the Lake,” Julius said, an expression of not-quite a grin on his face.
“We always thought it was funny. Here he is, locking himself away deep in the bowls of a ship, so under the water line, and he’s trying to build magic swords…maybe you don’t find it that funny,” Hakuno caught how Saber’s expression did not change and looked on nervously.
“You know how ships are always referred to as ‘she’ and ‘her’ right? Cardinal Red just didn’t sound right.” Julius shrugged. “Maybe in bad taste.”
“No,” Saber said. “I do not think he would be concerned either. Just…” She fought around for the right words. “I wonder if you are too accurate with such an assessment.”
The duo looked at one another, confusion evident.
“Does…” Saber frowned at how it might sound, but it was pertinent to understanding some things. “Does he not have a life beyond this? War strategies and battle preparations and his magecraft and fighting and then repeating all of it once more?”
“Not as such.” Hakuno finished her bowl of soup, but while Saber could tell that there was more still simmering on the stove in the galley, she did not go for more, obviously more conscious of the earlier jab. “I never really thought about it. None of us really do much. I mean, besides like watch movies or read books in between the waiting.”
“It concerns me. It would be a reversal from the very advice he once gave me regarding the chance at life.”
Hakuno looked away and her tone changed. “No offense to a hero that has achieved certain things in their life, but there are things we want to do before we’re gone. I don’t really have time to be thinking of anything else myself.”
“Nor I,” Julius said.
“Then I am surprised you have not been marked for participation by the ritual,” Saber said.
“Maybe it’s the knowledge that this ritual cannot grant our wishes or goals,” Julius said. “That, at the very least, has been drilled into us with great certainty.”
“If there were another system that wasn’t so broken, maybe then,” Hakuno admitted.
Saber nearly chewed on the spoon to her dish. Curiosity once more piqued her interest, yet she did not know either of them well enough to claim such private information. Of course, at the same time, they did name a ship after part of her own story. “What would you wish for?”
Hakuno’s lips pursed. Then opened. Then closed again. Saber recalled the wish that had brought her to this ritual initially and regretted asking. Before she could reclaim her words, however, the girl responded. “I…have a brother. I suppose I would wish for his health.”
Saber’s eyes drifted to Julius, who looked to Hakuno but clearly did not see her. “I have a brother as well. It would be the same for me.” He shook his head, a faint chuckle coming from the back of his throat. “Maybe we should name this ship the sibling-con.”
Another piece of the puzzle for Saber, even if it could be considered a joke. Lost siblings. Lost family. She could certainly see now what Shirou saw in them. Yet it also brought about another question. “If you have such desires, why do you not pursue them elsewhere? Rather than fight alongside one that has different goals?” Yet as she voiced this, she felt a strange, foreboding sense fill her heart. For once in her life, looking from the outside in, she began to understand the followers to another with a similar dream, and the answers they would give her could likewise be a mirror.
“My desire is…kinda impossible,” Hakuno said. “But watching him, I feel like, maybe…I could find the way regardless.”
Saber felt her shoulders fall.
Caliburn was bound to the stone by an enchantment. It carried the weight of the woes and sins that would be required to wield it. Saber picked it up because she was one capable of doing so, of bearing that burden. An impossible burden for many others. Yet, as Shirou had said, in doing so, she had changed the fates of many.
Modern magecraft would have called the enchantment a curse. Saber wondered if such a curse was also meant for those that followed in her wake.
[]==|{::::::::::::::::::::::::::>
The holds below would have been used for the sorting and refrigerated storage of fish had this remained a normal fishing vessel. The largest hold was now instead a magecraft workshop—although it hardly looked the part.
He was in that spot she had seen before, a cold forge nearby, tools set aside. A modern device was in his hand and he stared at it intensely, a strange expression on his face.
More than anything before, this seemed like the right place for him. The thought, however, was unsettling to Saber in a different way. A boy born out of tragedy caused by a fire now only seemed right at home with fire around him?
A stack of swords lay off to one side, handgrips not yet fashioned to make them useable. Saber picked one up, tested the balance, and considered for a moment before picking up another. Although the style of the weapons were identical and the differences in appearance negligible, each had a significantly different feeling behind them. The first, Saber could only feel a kind of uncontrollable anger from, yet the second felt almost intellectual, made for some very specific purpose.
Shirou did not say a thing as she examined them. When she was finished, she circled around to look over his shoulder at what he seemed so intent on. Text, for the most part, but the occasional picture, and while he cycled through things too quick for Saber to read thoroughly, she understood the majority of it.
Cities in unrest. Countries at war. Serial killings. Places he could be, situations that he could change, people he could be attempting to help.
Saber wanted to say something, but found all words to be hollow. In another time and place, she would not have been any different. Always with eyes to the next threat, to the next enemy. Listening carefully to what happened both within her kingdom and beyond its borders, considering the possibilities and course of actions to take when they came, taking in what could not be addressed immediately and mulling over what to take from those days when she could have done something had she been there.
What to sacrifice, what to save. Who to side with, who to leave to their fate.
What could be said to deter him from those thoughts? What could be said to comfort him amidst those thoughts? When she was in his place, she could never imagine anything that could have done anything for her. Such a thing did not exist for her in that place.
Her hands found his shoulders. Embracing him from behind, careful to mind his injured arm, she simply followed his gaze on the stories that went by.
In the end, there was nothing to say. Their gaze simply beheld the same things, and that would have to be enough.
[]==|{::::::::::::::::::::::::::>
As everyone took to sleep or rest of some kind, nobody thought twice about Sakura going out. Still on a local schedule, she had been the first to get sleep upon regrouping on board the Cardinal Red and woke as many of the others settled in themselves. She took stock of what food they had on board, and after asking for opinions on what people wanted for a meal, headed out to go shopping.
At least, that was what she told them. While it was true she would go shopping for food, that was not her first destination. Instead, some blocks into the city proper, she took a side street that ventured in the direction of the business district rather than areas that would offer shopping.
Parked nearby sat a limousine. Tinted windows prevented anyone from the outside knowing who occupied it, but Sakura approached without question and the rear door opened to admit her.
“No eyes on you,” Zouken Matou said. The old man sat hunched over in the rear of the vehicle opposite of Sakura, his skeletal face almost amused, a thin, wispy smile to his wrinkled lips. His cane, held upright beneath his hands, flicked out to tap Sakura’s shins, almost friendly in its familiarity.
He was not asking a question. They both knew she was not being observed, the Crest Worm currently in her sensitive to the flow of magical energy. Beyond that, it would have been strange indeed for the Tohsaka heir to call in the help of someone she did not believe in and their little team had many other things to worry about first.
“Their antics are causing quite a stir,” Zouken continued on. “It has left me with nothing but a feeling of…gratitude.” The pleased quirk to his mouth and the receding of wrinkles around his eyes suggested gratification was the real word. “Keep up the good work.”
The limousine took down the road toward a district for shopping as was Sakura’s destination. The signs of the everyday grind of workers going to and from their jobs passed on by outside.
“So as I understand it, your boy summoned a Servant,” Zouken said.
Sakura nodded. “The same as before. I’m told she is the same one that Kiritsugu Emiya also summoned.”
The laugh that the old man let out was scratchy, nearly asthmatic. He tapped his cane on the floor rhythmically, as if he could not contain himself but had no other way to show it. “Yes, how wonderful that sounds. The same Servant three times in a row? Hah. What a farce this has become.” He followed Sakura’s gaze out the window and into the city as it passed by. “The Tohsaka and Edelfelts do not call one, however? They are throwing their lot in with this one?”
“Yes. She’s the one they call King Arthur. Supposedly the strongest Saber.”
Another cackle, although this one was quieter, more subdued. Zouken’s eyes fell closed and he leaned back in his seat. “Interesting, interesting. A king destroyed by their own country. By a traitor, no less. Ahh, how terrible.” At Sakura’s reaction to that, Zouken cracked one eye open. “Do not concern yourself with her. This is now a matter left in your grandfather’s care.”
Sakura sighed, returning to look at the old man steadily. “You say that, but…”
“Oh, I have no intention of harming your friends,” he said. “Or even challenging the Tohsaka brat. You know that. As always, I just hope to see our family profit from this mess while everyone else runs around trying to kill each other.” He let out a wheezing, barking laugh. “Truly, you can leave it to me. I will contact you once more when our time nears.”
As it was not far from where they had met, it had not taken them long to reach the shopping center destination. The limo pulled up to the curb and the door opened to let Sakura out. Before she left, however, she turned and held out her hand. A mark marred the skin, as if she had bruised herself.
Zouken chuckled. “Good girl.” He held out his own hand.
A small shadow crawled along his hand, then fell down over hers. As if it were a trick of the light, it melted away as if it had never been there.
Without another word, Sakura turned back to do her shopping, the injury to her hand seemingly healed away.
[]==|{::::::::::::::::::::::::::>
Nighttime. The clear day had given way to a foggy dusk that clung to one’s body like it did to Fuyuki’s surface. While by the river and near the waterfront it reduced visibility to near zero, up the hills to either side of the city it formed a mist where lights could be seen and shapes condensed in the distance like out of a dream.
Fiore waited under the eaves of an apartment complex where the majority of the tenants were either out or already in bed. Across the street was the cemetery that served the foreigners of the city; in the haze of mist, only vague shapes stood in looming silence. The feeling that the town had completely died off settled in the back of her mind. While the isolation was what magi strove toward when carrying out plans, Fiore was not terribly experienced with it firsthand. Not in the middle of a community, anyway.
There was a hint of movement. Fiore readied for the possibility of an attack, then relaxed as Ellis Jane’s figure stepped out of the mist. Clothed in deep blues and grays, he at first seemed to blend in with the glossy wet street. “There’s a count of at least thirteen,” he said, reporting in on their enemy’s numbers. In ones or twos some had apparently made it out of the ambush at the river and succeeded in regrouping.
Nodding slowly, Fiore rolled her chair up to the edge of the complex’s walkway to peer up the street. The fog obscured the church that rested at the top of the hill, but the lights that led up to the large courtyard before it could be seen. “Is everything else in place?”
“Golems have a perimeter. Eyes are on the exits. It’s as good as we’ll get, what with the weather and all.”
A second confrontation between the Association forces and the members of the Church. This time, they had to assume that an attack would be anticipated. This time, rather than surprise, the advantage they would have were people like Jane—the true headhunters of the Association.
“Commence the plan, then.” Fiore let a small bird made of white agate and bronze fly from her hand. The familiar would find the others and be a signal that they were to move in on their target.
Recovery or destruction of the spirit board that granted the Church information on the Servants. Defeat of the Church members that could get in their way.
Jane disappeared back into the mist, and Fiore waited for the word.
Originally Posted by forumghost
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