Chapter 3: Day 1, Early Dawn
Ensemble Versus Illusion
Crystal Hill Casino.
"Everything on black."
Gilgamesh was seated at the roulette table again, betting as he had earlier. He was in the process of amassing a sum that even the casino could not ignore, when a third party entered the fray.
"Me too; everything on black."
Gilgamesh shot a sidelong glare at the man in the seat next to his, who had just placed a mountain of high value chips on the table.
"What have we here? A remora out to steal my riches?"
"Hardly. I'm not interested in the money; I just hoped I could get you to share some of your luck," the man, who wore a gaudy eye patch, said with a broad grin. "I've got a big job after this, and it'll be a real shot in the arm."
The next moment, the roulette ball landed on a black number, and another round of cheers went up from the onlookers.
"Thanks, that's my good luck taken care of. I'll return the 'riches' to your garden later." The man grabbed chips of the same high value as Gilgamesh's as he spoke.
I'll return them to your garden.
Hearing that turn of phrase, Gilgamesh questioned the stranger:
"Oh-ho, eavesdropping on me talking to myself earlier, were you?"
"Talking to yourself? You sure about that?" With an easy smile, the man turned his gaze to Tine, who was still standing behind Gilgamesh. "It's past midnight. Shouldn't you let the young lady there get some sleep soon?"
...!
Tine gasped at the sudden attention, but it appeared that she was still invisible to the dealer and the other customers. She tilted her head in puzzlement at the eye patched man's words.
"I see, it appears you are no ordinary mongrel. Name yourself," Gilgamesh questioned, flashing an arrogant smile. The eye patched man had caught his interest.
"Hansa Cervantes," the man answered, rising to his feet and donning the coat he had been carrying under one arm. In a flash a cross necklace was dangling over his black coat. The dealer and the other customers began to wonder, "What's a priest doing in a place like this?"
Amid the ring of confused stares, the priest who called himself Hansa made a declaration that Gilgamesh and Tine alone would understand.
"I got here a bit late, but I'm this war's overseer. Pleased to meet you."
With that, Hansa cashed his chips and headed for the exit. Before anyone knew it, four women were trailing beside him. Coupled with the casino setting, they produced a scene in which his clerical garments felt strongly out of place.
"I see you ended up going to the casino in uniform after all, Mr. Hansa," one of the four women said as they exited the casino.
"Couldn't be helped. A young lady we got information is one of the Masters entered the casino with a man who seems like a Heroic Spirit. I didn't have time to change clothes. But... don't tell master, okay?" Hansa shrugged, addressing the group of women. "You're the ones who need to get changed. Yesterday, a crater was made in the desert. Who knows what might happen tonight."
He directed his steps towards a certain city institution.
"I'll go ahead to introduce myself as overseer...
"to a man I'll bet is one of the masterminds who caused this joke of a war."
X X
The police station. Interrogation room.
Dawn was still far off. In the interrogation room of Snowfield Police Station, a bizarre interview was being conducted.
"...So, your name is?"
"If you are troubled for a name to address me by, please call me 'Saber,'" the handcuffed aristocratic man answered the sour-faced police detective, sitting majestically in his chair.
"Saber? Like a cavalry saber? Well, ain't that clever. What drugstore did you find that sword we confiscated from you in, anyway?"
A sarcastic query. The man who called himself Saber grasped the meaning, and responded with a cheerful smile.
"I think I'll use that 'right to remain silent.' It's my favorite sword; I'd be in trouble if there was a flood of customers and they sold out."
"...You've got quite a mouth on you for a guy dressed up as a king or knight or something."
"Quite perceptive. I see the officials of this country are of a superior order."
Saber sounded impressed. The detective's response was irritated.
"You touched in the head? Or is it drugs?"
"I suppose so. In my youth, I was even nicknamed Oc e No. To those around me I must have seemed eccentric, but I took it as a compliment."
"I see. So then you bought into your own hype, got carried away and wrecked the opera house?"
"Certainly, I got carried away. It is a fact that, realizing that I had been summoned atop a gorgeous stage, replete with luxury, I was in high spirits," Saber addressed the officers, his expression growing serious. "What you ought to do is look into what it will cost, and how many craftsmen it will require, to repair the opera house. Inform me, and I will make amends."
"You'll have to ask the DA about that. In the first place, does a nut like you even have a chance in hell of covering the cost?"
"If I said I didn't... I'd be lying."
"You got somebody to foot the bill for you or something?"
The costume the man called Saber had on looked to authentic to have been bought at a local party goods shop. It had probably come with a hefty price tag. The detective in charge of the interrogation, having reached that conclusion, was attempting to draw some information out of the man, when—
"If you like, you may even finance it for me. I will not forget the favor."
"And you can quit screwing around!"
The detective banged his palm on the table. Saber brooded for a moment, grunted, then opened his mouth to speak.
"I won't say for free. I can show you a trick. You'll have the chance to see something that's likely beyond the bounds of your common sense."
"A magic trick?"
"Yes. I'll be frank... it's quite something. You'll be amazed."
Saber spoke with an innocent smile like a child's. The police officers exchanged glances, smirked, and decided to play along with the madman.
"Ha. In that case, why don't you show us what you can do in your condition?" one of the officers said.
Saber nodded, smiling, raised his cuffed hands and gave them a shake.
"I have nothing in my hands. Do you agree? Look closely."
"...Yeah."
"...And now, I'm going to
disappear."
"Huh?"
The officers were puzzled, not quite taking in the man's meaning. Then... Saber's body vanished like mist. His handcuffs, left hanging in the air, fell to the table with a loud clatter.
"...!?"
"Wha..."
The officers were all on the verge of panicking. They ran their eyes over their surroundings, stretching hands to the pistols and stun guns at the hips.
"Where'd he go?"
"What happened?"
"Do
not open the door!"
The uproar continued... but as soon as they took their eyes off the man's chair for a moment, he was back in his original position. The only difference from before was the handcuffs, which were lying empty on the table.
"..."
The officers trained their guns on the man, wiping away cold sweat.
"D, don't move! Do not move!"
"I haven't moved a step. I told you, didn't I? That you'd be amazed?" Saber said. Then he wiped the smile from his face, as if to say that the joke ended there, and addressed the police officers with a serious expression.
"Of course, I could have gone through the wall and escaped, or even done something to you. Or taken my leave of the opera house without ever being seen."
The blazing glint in his eyes projected an intimidating air, as if he was about to devour the officers' souls. In spite of which, Saber stubbornly endeavored to prove that he bore them no ill will.
"This is my way of showing you 'respect.'"
"'Respect'...?"
"Before the question of atoning for the crime of destruction, to make another shoulder the blame for it would be a knight's dishonor. If I behaved so, I would never again be able to face the founding king of my native land, whom I love and respect. For that very reason, I ask you, who have proof of my power, to understand. I intend to make amends, but I do not intend to be restrained. I have merely come here to testify that the woman is innocent."
The police officers sank into silence at Saber's quietly-spoken words. The content of the man's words was too out of place and absurd to believe, but an intimidating aura continued to emanate from him, and forced them to accept it.
"That I do not eliminate you with force is the bare minimum of respect due to the noble intentions of loyalty to your task dedication to the public peace. I will abide your restraint until dawn."
The word "respect" came out of Saber's mouth, but the police officers were regarding the man before them with looks of fear. Like frogs caught in the glare of a snake, they were rooted to the spot. It appeared that they truly were faithful to their mission, because they continued to glare at Saber in spite of that.
Saber, perhaps comfortable being the target of their animosity, spoke cheerfully.
"I will vanish with the dawn, so, well, you had better think how to gloss it over now."
Finally, with an innocent smile, he tacked on a remark that really must have been mockery.
"If you like, we can think on it together."
X X
The police station. Conference room.
Watching the events in the interrogation room on his desk monitor, the chief pressed his fingers to his temples and heaved a sigh.
"...He appears to be entirely unconscious of the secrecy of the Holy Grail War."
Then, furrowing his brow, he issued instructions to his secretary, who stood beside him.
"Exclude normal officers from future observation and interrogation. Assign it to members of Clan Calatin. Perform memory alteration treatments on all personnel in the room with him now."
"Understood."
The secretary saluted. As she did so, the chief took the sword lying on the table in his hand.
"...This is the Noble Phantasm we confiscated from him?"
"Yes, sir. It doesn't appear to be anything more than an ornamental sword... but that might be because its true name has not been released."
"No, this really is just an ornamental sword. I can't sense even a speck of magical energy."
When he reached that point, a sudden realization struck the chief.
"...Just now, when he assumed spirit form, did this sword disappear?"
"I can't say, sir... I was distracted by the monitor as well, and didn't notice."
"Hmm..."
According to the report from Faldeus' survey team, Gilgamesh had "fired" hundreds, maybe thousands, or Noble Phantasms the night before. Now, however, not a scrap of them remained. Of course there was always the possibility that Faldeus was lying, but it seemed more probable that some force had acted to retrieve the fired Noble Phantasms to Gilgamesh's treasury.
"There are still a lot of black boxes in the Holy Grail War. It appears we'll need to give some thought to the relationship between Heroic Spirits and their equipment."
With his eyes fixed on "Saber's sword," which he was actually holding in his hands and touching, the chief ruminated on the future.
"I'll ask Caster for his opinion later... although I doubt he'll give me a straight answer."
Then he replaced the sword on the table, and directed his steps towards the entrance of the conference room.
"I'll meet with the woman who appears to be Saber's Master."
"Isn't direct contact dangerous?"
The secretary let her unease show through.
"...If I pawned it off on a member of Clan Calatin and it turned out to be a trap, it would still be risky," the chief answered in frigid tones. "If I didn't have the resolve to put myself in harm's way, I would never have chosen these tactics."
X X
The same time. Another area inside the station.
Ayaka, who had finished her interrogation and been stuffed into the holding area commonly called a "jail" or a "police cell," was exhausted. She lay face up on the bed, still wearing her glasses. Surrounded, not by iron bars, but by walls and a door, she was now completely isolated.
It was a far cleaner room than Ayaka had anticipated. If you left out how cramped it was, the cell seemed more agreeable than camping in a tent, or worrying about mosquitoes and ticks in a cheap hotel.
Ayaka had heard that in America they made no special distinctions between jails, detention centers, and prisons. Then again, she wasn't clear on the difference herself. In any case, it didn't change the fact that she would not be leaving for a while. She resigned herself, looked up at the ceiling, and decided to get some rest.
But agitation kept her awake. Her head was full of the contents of her examination. Who was she? Where had she come from? Why had she been there? She seemed to be Japanese, so what was her objective in visiting America? A long litany of questions designed to sound out a suspect's past. It had been a reasonable, straightforward course of action, but Ayaka had found it unbearably painful.
Oh, I hate it. I hate it.
Even remembering it is a pain.
No, that's wrong. I'm not annoyed.
I just don't want to remember because I'm scared.
While traveling this country's vast expanse, she had been able to forget the past. She had been able to run from her sins.
For a while, I didn't see her, but...
The red hooded girl who had appeared at the opera house. Picturing the smile beneath her hood made Ayaka's whole body break out in a sweat.
She had been made to ride an elevator several times while she was being dragged through the station, and every time she had been on tenterhooks. She did not know how many years it had been. She had done her best to not even enter buildings that had elevators. Because she had known that the instant she set eyes on an elevator, the red hooded girl would be standing behind her.
The police officers had appeared to be unable to see her, but Ayaka had certainly sensed her presence inside the station elevator. Ayaka, paling with fear, had made absolutely certain not to look in her direction. All the while telling herself, "She and I are different people. This has nothing to do with me."
In the end, Ayaka could not tell whether the red hooded girl was a ghost, or an illusion her own mind showed her, or something else entirely. All that mattered to Ayaka was the fact that she could see the red hooded girl.
She was supposed to have come to this city to escape from that girl, so why had it turned out like this? Just as Ayaka settled down to ponder the question afresh, there was a sudden change in her situation.
"Are you well? You look quite tired."
Without warning, the man from the opera house appeared in a corner of her cell.
"!?"
Startled, Ayaka shot upright. The man who had entered unnoticed called out to her again.
"Don't act so surprised. Passing through walls is nothing if I shift to spirit form. My interrogation's been put on hold. I was put in a cell a little farther down, so I came to check in on you."
The man had easily penetrated the locked isolation cell. Perhaps he really was some kind of spirit. There was far less distance between them than there had been even at the opera house, and Ayaka stood up so as to be on her guard. Pressing her back to the wall, she opened her mouth to speak.
"...I thought I told you to leave me alone," she bluntly enquired.
"You're not my Master, are you?" The man asked back.
"...That's right. I'm not your Master or anything else."
Ayaka meant her answer as a curt refusal, but when the man heard it, he grinned like a mischievous child.
"I guess that means I've no need to obey your orders, then!"
"Wha..."
"Now I can bother you all I want. I'm going to take personal care of you, so be prepared."
The man sounded cheerful. Ayaka shook her head. She had had enough.
"Please, just leave me alone."
"As much as I love to grant the wishes of the common people as best I can, there's a reason why that won't do."
"A reason?
In the face of the dubious Ayaka, the Heroic Spirit got straight to the point.
"I think it's due to the rites built into your tattoos... It looks like my magical energy 'lines' are connected to you, instead of the mage who had my Command Seals."
"...What?"
The man's abrupt manner of speaking caused Ayaka to knit her brows.
"In other words, I get magical energy from you, and that allows me to materialize in this world. That means our fates are linked, even if it isn't a proper Master and Servant relationship," he lightly announced, then continued to the dumbfounded Ayaka. "Without you, I probably wouldn't have been able to manifest in the first place. I am in your debt. Thank you."
The man held out a hand to shake. Ayaka brushed it aside and scowled at him.
"...If you feel indebted to me, leave me alone."
"That I refuse to do! I will take good care of you. And bother you as well. I'll save you, even if you wail and rave that you don't want me to. After all, if you die, I disappear, and then I won't be able to obtain the Holy Grail."
"You're going to save me from something...?"
"Of course. From the other participants in this war. Master or not, as long as your magical energy lines are tied to me, you will naturally be targeted."
"This is the worst..."
Ayaka held her head in her hands.
"Think positively," the man told her. "Compared to having all your skin flayed off, being rubbed in salt, and being in the same situation, for example, you're much better off because you're not in pain."
"You give some extreme examples..."
"I've often been told that I am extreme in everything I do."
The man sounded embarrassed, as if he had just been complimented. Ayaka, perhaps realizing that anything she said would be useless, decided to sound him out and broached a different topic.
"You're a noble or something, right? Doesn't being arrested by the police go against your pride or something?"
"It's much better than when I was imprisoned in a mountain fortress. I can step out for a stroll when I please. Besides, if you had been punished in my place, that would have wounded my pride far more. Oh, but I'm not just helping you for the sake of my pride."
"I told you, you don't have to help me at all..."
Ayaka heaved an exasperated sigh. The man continued to address her with an easy manner, completely unlike the speech he had made on top of the fire-engine.
"Call me Saber for the time being. To go without naming myself to my benefactor is dishonorable, but sooner or later I will find an opportunity to tell you my true name."
Saber then turned back to Ayaka with a serious air.
"Won't you tell me a few things now? What were you doing in a place like that? What are those tattoos?" he enquired. After making a troubled face for a moment, however, he shook his head and posed a more important question.
"...Sorry. First, please tell me your name."
X X
A hallway inside the station.
The chief of police, unaware that Saber and Ayaka were conversing in her cell, slightly quickened his pace towards the isolation cells. Just as he reached the elevator, however, a female station employee came running up to him.
"Oh, there you are, chief! There's a visitor to see you."
"Tell them to... No, wait."
He planned to postpone if it was a politician or someone of that kind, but there was also a chance that it was Faldeus or Kuruoka.
"...Who is it?"
"Well... he calls himself a priest, but he looked pretty suspicious to me..."
A priest.
The chief scowled. Another possibility had struck him. Before long it became a suspicion, and the next words out of the station employee's mouth proved it.
"All he'll say is, 'Tell him it's about a cup stolen from Japan. He'll understand.'"
X X
In the city.
On the roof of a particularly tall adjacent building, the woman Assassin focused her mind on the police station below her, quietly adjusting her breathing.
She had searched for information in the city, and learned that the Saber Heroic Spirit had been taken to the police station. After that it was merely a matter of slipping inside and carrying out the assassination, this time in perfect form, or so the woman Assassin had thought. Now that she had surveyed the station, however, a terrifying fact dawned on her.
A great number of mystic barriers had been erected on the site of the police station, transforming it into a fortress that completely shut out all except those who approached through the legitimate entrances. Even if she were to erase her presence and attempt to get in through the front door, barriers designed to expose such subterfuge were set up five or six layers thick. The bounded field had been formed so skillfully that it was hidden even from the nearby mages. She had passed by it during the day and not noticed a thing.
As a result of more focused observation, she detected the "presence" of several mages inside the building. She could not believe it. To her, the city's people were overwhelmingly "infidels," but the fact that mages, viewed as "heretics" by so many religions, were in possession of its judiciary and administrative organs was hard to accept on short notice. Considering the Clock Tower's influence, it was probably not a rare thing in the modern era, but she had nothing to do with the Clock Tower, and it shocked her.
Although they belonged to different sects, there were some in this city who worshipped the same god as herself. And mages, who were not even infidels, were trying to rule them from behind the scenes. She could not turn a blind eye to that.
It was unthinkable that an organization that had erected a bounded field on such a large scale was not involved in the Holy Grail War being conducted in the city. Most importantly, her enemy, the Saber Heroic Spirit, was within. She drew a large breath, and resolved to storm the enemy camp.
The chief of her time had been able to slip — practically dance — through any barrier. She knew that she herself was not so skillful. All she could do was to make use of the techniques she had developed in imitation of previous generations, and fight.
She would go on running until she smashed into a wall. Nothing else mattered. If even her immature self could accomplish something, then her life would have meaning.
No, she did not need meaning. She did not need to think; only to break through.
She digested her silent resolve beneath her black raiment, and took a huge leap into the air. As she fell, she forcibly shut down all the barriers. Her opponents would notice her presence, but she did not care. She would eliminate all enemies. Having made up her mind on that, she became a cannonball hurtling towards the police station.
Several seconds later, all the barriers spread in the skies above it shattered at once...
And the curtain went up on the fanatic's war. She had resolved to fight through to the bitter end alone.
If she had made a miscalculation... it was that she was not, in fact, alone. She had one fiendish reinforcement. But then, she would never have wished for the aid of such a creature.
X X
In front of Crystal Hill casino. The entertainment district.
"A casino, huh? Looks fun."
Flat, who had been wide awake since being interviewed in front of the opera house, was roaming through the entertainment district. Amid the dazzling lights of Main Street, his attention had been captured by the still more dazzling neon of the casino.
"I could have sworn that casinos are forbidden to those under 21 in this state," Jack the Ripper, still in the form of a wristwatch, chided him.
"Oh, I can't go in, then. That's a shame. I haven't had a chance to play in ages."
"Been in one before, have you?"
Jack sounded surprised. Flat wistfully recalled the past as he answered.
"I'm from Monaco, you see. There was a really big casino boat that floated on the sea near my hometown. I used to play there. They had an age limit too, but after a bit of this and that, the owner gave me special permission... He asked me to show him what magecraft I could use in exchange, though, so I did."
"...Truly, you live in a way diametrically opposed to my image of a mage."
"Oh, you flatterer."
"No, it is not my place to speak. If that is how you choose to live, then do as you like. I only pray that the other mages do not do away with you."
Jack sounded exasperated, but something in Flat's story seemed to have aroused his interest. He decided to continue asking about the casino boat.
"Still, if he asked to see your magecraft... was the owner a mage as well?"
"Nope. Well, apparently he used to be."
"...He 'used to be'?"
The watch's dial tilted quizzically in response to Flat's odd turn of phrase.
"Yeah. He turned from a mage to a Dead Apostle."
"Dead Apostle?"
"A bloodsucker... Oh, would you understand if I said 'vampire'?"
Jack's dial bent further at Flat's abrupt declaration.
"It's true that there are theories I was actually a vampire... but even for a mage, isn't that a bit too B-grade occult?"
"Jack the Ripper resurrected in the modern day is way more B-grade occult, though."
"Humph."
The Holy Grail provided the Heroic Spirits with the minimum knowledge necessary to fight the Holy Grail War. If Jack did not know about vampires, that probably meant that the Grail had judged information concerning them was irrelevant to the conflict. Flat thought so, at least. He decided to give Jack a simple explanation.
"Vampires really do exist. Well, mystically speaking, they're called bloodsuckers or Dead Apostles, though. There are people who get bitten by a bloodsucker and then become one after a few years, but there are also all sorts of ex-mages and so on who become Dead Apostles on their own, chasing after immortality or the Root or something like that."
"Mages can become vampires, then?"
"Just between us, there's even one among the higher ups at the Clock Tower. A Dead Apostle who uses true magic."
"Goodness..."
Jack followed his exclamation of surprise with a sarcastic jab at Flat.
"You, of course, would probably become a vampire without a second thought because 'it's cool.'"
Flat's response, however, was unexpectedly serious.
"They are cool, but I don't know about becoming one. I mean, there's the bloodsucking urge and things to consider."
"That's a surprise. I wouldn't have thought you had such commonsensical morals."
"Plus, it's, you know,
inefficient."
"...?"
Neglecting Jack's apparent doubt, Flat pointed to another part of town and said:
"Oh look, speak of the devil and something something."
"What is it?"
Flat's gaze rested on a young man, who stood on the sidewalk of Main Street facing the police station. He had a somehow carefree air about him. Flat kept his eyes on the young man, and casually declared:
"That guy over there, looking toward the police station... He's a Dead Apostle. Probably."
X X
The police station. Lobby.
"You're Chief Orlando Reeve?"
This late at night, the station lobby was mostly devoid of ordinary people. Only night shift officers and the juvenile delinquents they hauled in could occasionally be glimpsed passing through.
The lobby of Snowfield Center Station was considerably more spacious than that of an ordinary police station, forming a well that reached into the third story. The exposed portions of the second and third floor hallways were incorporated into the station's interior design. Unlike the fashionably designed lobby's of some California police stations, it gave the solemn impression of a castle that had been forced to modernize. Standing in the center of that strangely oppressive lobby, the man radiated a singular presence.
He was dressed as a priest, and wore a gaudy eye patch. Just by being in the police station, he naturally drew the stares of the few passersby. The chief, however, stood boldly before the mysterious priest and answered:
"I am Reeve... And you are?"
"Hansa Cervantes. An... 'overseer' dispatched to the Snowfield Center church. I assume you know what I mean."
"I don't think I know what you're talking about," the chief answered expressionlessly. Hansa grinned broadly and spread his hands.
"If you plan on insisting 'magecraft if just a hobby,' or 'my subordinates did it on their own' with this many barriers up, I won't stop you. Even if your Servant does get eliminated, all you'll lose is a safe place to hide. Surely even you value your life?"
"..."
The main jobs of the Holy Grail War's overseer were observing the war's progress and concealing magecraft and miracles from mundane eyes. Aside from those, however, they were also tasked with "sheltering the defeated."
If a Master still had the will to fight even after their Servant had been defeated, they had the option of making a new contract with a Servant who had likewise lost their Master and was just waiting for dissolution. They could then return to the front. In order to prevent that, more than a few mages tried to finish off Masters who had lost their Servants. Even a Master who no longer had the will to go on might find themselves targeted by the other participants. Ensuring the safety of such Masters was one of the jobs of the Holy Church and its overseer.
Of course, even if the chief came to them later and said, "I actually am a Master, so help me," it would be the church's policy to offer him shelter, so Hansa's threat amounted to no more than a jibe or a bluff. The chief, however, seemed to have taken a still shrewder view of that line, and narrowed his eyes warily. Hansa, in contrast, shrugged his shoulders with an easy manner.
"Whoops. I'm not here to ask leading questions. I already know that you're an
outlaw with no ties to the Clock Tower, Chief Orlando Reeve. I could add that you're guilty of perpetrating an unnatural accumulation of personnel. Through your good offices you've been assembling officers from all over since long before this war started. Only circumstantial evidence, but I'd say it's enough."
"...I didn't think you'd have investigated so thoroughly in a mere few days. Impressive."
"It's the Church's informants who are impressive. If you've got the time to praise me, try splurging on donations during service next Sunday."
The chief was not sure if the wisecracking priest was being sarcastic.
"Either way, it is hardly a matter to discuss here. I will show you to the reception room."
"I think I'll pass. It doesn't look like you guys have any intention of playing nice with the Church, and I've got no intention of leaping into the belly of such a shady beast."
Without further ado, Hansa seated himself in one of the lobby chairs. He looked at a flat-screen television mounted on a column before speaking again.
"They've been showing footage of the accident — or incident — at the opera house for a while now. There's a weird guy in it. If that's a genuine Heroic Spirit, it would mean you guys have already failed at keeping the ritual a secret. Can't say we didn't warn you. If you feel like making any tearful apologies, I can give you phone numbers for some big-wigs at the Eighth Sacrament Assembly."
Hansa was smiling, but his provocative manner was openly hostile. The chief answered him with an ice-cold look.
"There's no need for concern. No ordinary person could see it for what it really is."
"Is that so? Let's change the topic, then. Are that Heroic Spirit and its Master here?"
"...If I said yes?"
"They're not in the Church's reports. I'd like to verify at least their faces. Say hello if I can. And if the Master's a woman, I'd like to ask her to dinner; treat her to jalokia jambalaya or something. I don't know about you, but the young lady next to you can come along too."
The secretary, still expressionless, rejected the abrupt offer, and glanced at the chief. The chief heaved a big sigh, and declared bluntly to the persistent Hansa:
"Let me be clear: our ritual is different from the one in Fuyuki. We have no intention of coming to terms with you. Now go pray like a good little priest."
"If we're through talking, I don't need you to tell me to pray in church."
"You won't be praying in a church. You'll be doing it right here," the chief told the ever-wisecracking Hansa.
"Oh?"
"...You said that Servant and Master are 'not in the church's reports,' if I remember correctly."
The warmth was steadily going out of the chief's voice.
"How much do you know? Do you have information that even we don't? Until we bridge that intelligence gap, we cannot possibly send you home."
"Sorry, but I just can't sleep without my pillow. Mind if I run home to get it?"
"Hansa Cervantes, was it? You've made a mistake."
The chief continued dispassionately without lending an ear to Hansa's jokes.
"Didn't you consider that this lobby is already in my belly?"
The chief's tone grew still colder. That was when Hansa noticed — the ordinary people he had sporadically glimpsed in the lobby had completely disappeared.
Clearing out the people, huh.
Even the officers and receptionists who had been hanging around were gone. In their place, a succession of police officers filed in from the multiple entrances adjoining the lobby. All of them were staring coolly at Hansa, and lined up so as to surround him.
These guys... aren't your average cops.
Just their bearing and the way they walked was enough to tell him that they had received more than ordinary police training. At the same time, they clearly had not been brainwashed; they were standing in this "cleared-out" space of their own wills.
Seeing the situation he was in, Hansa, still seated in his chair, glared up at the chief's face.
"If you're going to arrest me, what are the charges?"
"Earlier I believe you said, 'surely even you value your life'... I sensed danger in your speech and conduct. I have received an undeniable threat."
"...You watch too much TV, chief."
"You do not have the right to remain silent. Nothing you say will be used in a court of law. You do not have the right to an attorney, and one will not be provided to you. Be prepared."
The officers slowly began to close in as their chief made his sarcastic recitation.
"Making enemies of us isn't a winning strategy. It doesn't like I can do anything to you, but when you one-sidedly bully a guy like this, the relationship between our organizations is liable to go sour."
"I agree. That's precisely why I would like us to share information amicably."
The chief looked down at Hansa. His gaze was far from amicable.
"You shouldn't startle an ordinary, upstanding citizen like that. I might kick up a fuss."
Hansa glared back, flashing a provocative grin. The situation seemed to have reached critical mass, when... the chief's phone vibrated, and the mood of the room relaxed.
Scowling, the chief took a step back and pulled out his phone. Naturally, he did not relax his vigilance towards Hansa. He cautiously put the receiver to his ear, at which point an inappropriately cheerful voice became audible.
"Yo! How're you doing, bro?"
"If you have business with me, we can talk later. I'm in the middle of something."
The chief, hearing Caster's voice, leapt to a curt reply. Caster, however, delivered a clear warning without listening to his Master's voice.
"Get out of there right now, bro. That, or get ready to meet the enemy with everything you've got. You totally cut off telepathy on your end, so I had to reach you with the blessings of civilization."
"What do you mean? How do you know something like that?"
"That's a trade secret. Well, good luck!"
With that, the call cut off. The chief scowled.
"Good lord, he's a hard man to deal with."
But it had not seemed like a prank call, either. The chief was already well aware that Caster's intelligence-gathering skills were abnormal. But what did it mean that he had now progressed to issuing warnings in real time? No sooner had the doubt crossed the chief's mind, however, than...
Crackle.
Every vein in his body set up a distorted wailing. To be precise, the magic circuits that ran through it did.
The barriers... Shit! What's going on?
The anti-mage barriers erected many layers thick had been destroyed in an instant, with a force like a missile plowing into a shelter.
Picture slipping through the security system of a bank or an art museum without triggering it even once, and successfully carrying out a theft without allowing even the fact of your infiltration to be noticed. That was the kind of barrier breaking the chief had envisioned.
This, however, was like a bomb striking the building and tearing open a hole in the wall to make an entrance. In other words, it meant that whoever had broken the barrier did not care if their intrusion was detected. This was no infiltration; it was an "impact."
"Friends of yours?"
The chief glared at Hansa, but the priest only shrugged his shoulders with every appearance of ignorance.
"I'd be glad if it was," he said while glancing up at the ceiling, "but if my friends come it'll be through the front entrance or the back door, not from up in the sky."
"..."
He can sense it?
The chief could sense that it was the barrier around the upper part of the station that had been broken as well. Even though he knew there must have been some kind of attack, however, he could sense no sound or reverberation from the impact. What in the world had happened? He only had a brief time to wonder...
Before every light in the building went out, plunging all of them into deep darkness.
An isolation cell.
"Finally, you've told me your name. Thank you, Ayaka. One day I will return the favor."
Saber, who had employed all his wiles and at last succeeded in ferreting Ayaka's name out of her, continued his questioning with a cheerful smile.
"And? What are you doing in a town like this?"
"I..."
Telling everything would probably be the fastest way to shut the man up, Ayaka thought, and resigned herself to narrate her experiences.
"I started out in Japan, running from city to city."
"You were running from something?"
"I don't know how many years I did that for. I just drifted around from place to place..."
While biting her lip, seemingly less in irritation than in fear, Ayaka gave a roundabout account of her past.
"Eventually, I ended up back in the town where I started. There was a weird castle in the forest there, and—"
At that point, the light in the isolation cell suddenly went out.
"Huh?"
"Hm?"
Saber and Ayaka look around in unison, but there was no light even outside the little window set in the cell door. They realized that the entire police station was blacked out.
"...A blackout? It should switch over to emergency power soon. I think."
Ayaka sounded a little frightened in the darkness. Saber's wary voice echoed in response.
"...If it is just a blackout."
X X
Originally Posted by Constructman
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