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Chapter 55 — Mantle (Public)
🕑 Added 2024-08-25 14:38:35 +0000 UTCAfter combing through a 50-mile radius around Fuyuki to ensure I hadn’t missed a Crest Worm—a trip that took from me exactly 23 minutes—I head towards the resort address Kiritsugu had messaged me days earlier.
At my current speed, vehicles seem unnecessary; however, since Nasu’s version of the Statute of Secrecy remains in place, it's probably wise not to test the Tower's patience, Lorelei’s husband or not.
“Room service!”
I whisper, rapping on the Magus Killer’s door until he answers, concealing a firearm in his sleeve.
“Leo…”
He exhales in relief, stepping aside for me to make way for me. “I trust you’ve brought good news?”
“I have indeed. Zouken is dead, and unless there’s another cache of Crest Worms in a different city, he won’t be returning,” Putting down the cheap bottled tea, I move towards the tatami mat; back to the exit as I throw my arm over my right knee. “The Holy Grail Ritual has been dismantled as well, thanks to the joint efforts of the Church and the Tower… I do not think the Tower will hold this over Rin’s head.”
Their failure to retrieve the Grail was theirs alone.
Even if they’re searching for someone to hold responsible, the Tower wouldn’t be so brazen as to pin the blame on a literal child… I hope… But if they do, I won’t mind meeting the same record as my lady-wife.
“Is it safe for Fuyuki to return?”
“As safe as anywhere, I guess,” I reply with a shrug. “But if something happens—”
And knowing Nasu, it’s not a matter of if, something will happen. “You know who to get in touch with. If I’m not available, try reaching out to John… The Einzbern’s technically under my command now; he’ll come.”
As a haunted gaze drills into my face, he muses aloud, “This is the last time I see you, isn’t it?”
“Possibly…” I admit, seeing little reason to lie.
“The girls won’t take it well.”
“They’ll have to manage.”
My stay in Fuyuki has been prolonged by five main reasons.
One of those reasons is now buried under the forest behind the Fuyuki Church, one is presently in a hotel in London, another has been taken by the Yggdmilennia, and with Zouken reduced to ashes, I feel no guilt for the safety of the girls. The last thing tying me here is the Emiya Crest, which I can hardly demand from Kiritsugu at this point.
That ship sailed ages ago.
There’s—“Nothing left for me in Fuyuki.”
I really need to work on that habit of vocalizing only part of my thoughts.
Before Kiritsugu gets a chance to ask for clarification, I pause for a moment to gather my thoughts. “Well, actually, there’s another thing.”
Before I leave, I want to witness Unlimited Blade Works in the work. Critics might argue it’s overused or not that powerful, but what Fate diehard fan hasn’t dreamed of seeing the legendary Reality Marble?
“How is Shiro progressing with her Magecraft?”
“She’s… A competent Magus. Certainly better than I am, though she’s quite ‘focused.’”
He blinks, a hint of fear crossing his eyes.
“You meant she’s an Incarnation with a slowly-developing Reality Marble?”
Kiritsugu’s already wan complexion turns even paler at my casual and genuinely innocent remark.
It takes my brain mere seconds to figure out the reason. "You thought I would—”
The words falter on my lips as I hiss, “That was incredibly hurtful of you, Magus Killer. I thought we were tighter than that.”
“It’s delicate information… I doubted you would, but I needed confirmation.”
I lean forward, catching his eye, my mind already crafting an excuse for the Magus Killer. It’s difficult to hold a grudge knowing he was only looking out for Shiro. "Well, there goes my good mood.”
“My apologies.” He reaches under the table, producing a bottle of sake. “Drink?”
“… You didn’t spike that shit, did you?”
“No.” Kiritsugu glares, which prompts me shrug and pout my lips.
“Just needed confirmation.”
Who am I kidding? Holding grudges is too much fun.
Pouring us each a shot, the retired Magus Killer downs his in one gulp, gesturing towards me next.
“I didn’t peg you for a drinker…” I remark, swirling the liquid and observing while the mesmerizing patterns take shape, a childhood amusement I still enjoy even now.
“Normally, I don’t drink. But the circumstances seem fitting.”
“How did you know I’d be here to buy this, anyway?”
“I didn’t.” Kiritsugu shakes his head, refilling his own cup. “Consider it a precautionary purchase, in case you brought unpleasant tidings.”
“Fair enough.” Letting loose a low chuckle, I take a long gulp, exhaling loudly as the burn of the alcohol traces a fiery path down my throat. “So, how goes Shiro’s magical studies?”
“She’s been devouring those notes you gave me. Never seen her so engrossed. The Hell did you give her?”
It does not surprise me.
Unlimited Blade Works is bound to have a reaction when confronted with three distinct Chants from three different versions of Emiya Shirou: The original, Archer’s, and Miyu-Verse Shirou’s, who was unfortunate enough to exist in the pervy, less savory side of the Nasuverse. It’s a shame, really.
The guy might have been the coolest Shirou of them all.
“Arias for her Reality Marble—three different versions, though I believe she’ll develop her own.”
Shiro is Shirou, yet not.
“Let’s hope her version rhymes better in English than theirs. To better Aria?” I raise my glass, pours the beverage in and toast.
“To better Aria.”
Sharing a drink, we sit around and talk until the clock hits midnight.
“Got any plan for the future?”
A smile coming to my lips, I answer cryptically. “Lots… All working toward one goal.”
“Which is…?”
“World domination.”
Kiritsugu snorts, mistaking my words for a joke. “Can’t you just be serious for once?”
But I wasn’t joking.
“I’m dead serious. I finally know what I have to do… Some parts are still unclear, but it’s coming together beautifully.”
“Congrats…”
“And you?” I ask, attempting to drain the last drops of alcohol from my glass.
“I…” The Magus Killer hesitates before carefully choosing his words. “I think it’s time I lay down the mantle. I couldn’t save the world, but perhaps it is not too late for me to be a halfway-decent dad.”
“’Bout fucking time, you deadbeat!”
I laughingly tease, reach forth to pat his shoulder before stumbling to my feet with Kiritsugu following suit. Neither of us is particularly heavy drinkers, but while I’m merely a bit loose-mouthed thanks to my unique physiology, Kiritsugu is left worse off, slurring through every sentence as I make my exit through the window.
Even drunk, I have the presence of mind to leave Caragor before taking my fourth trip on Touko’s Transportation Agency of the month.
“Sir Hangman? Your business in Japan finished quicker than I thought.”
“Ms. Mirael! Whatchu’ doin’ here?” I thought she was only responsible for Europe?
“My colleague in the Asia Branch is out of commission, so I’m here to take over for her. You?”
I shout enthusiastically upon spotting her, nearly losing my balance and falling as the world spins. “One ticket to London, please! Destiny calls!”
“Is that her stage name?”
“Wha—?”
It takes me a moment to understand her joke; an embarrassingly long moment. “You know what? Yer pretty fucking funny, miss! Wanna join my Kingdom? No take-backsies!”
“I don’t believe Lady Barthomeloi will appreciate that.”
“I said Kingdom, not harem!” I make a face at the insinuation, steadying myself when my legs suddenly give.
“Alright, I don’t think you’re in any state to travel, Sir Hangman.”
She says, sliding a hand behind my back to support my weight as the ‘Incinerating Light’ guides me into a room. “Can’t… I’m in a rel—”
What’s the word again? “Relationship!”
“Relax, it’s just a room. Don’t read into it.”
“What for? I want to go back to London, not get a room!”
“Not a chance in your current condition. You’d fall to your death.”
“I wouldn’t!” I can’t die anyway, not while my life’s linked to Sakura still.
As if to prove her point, the fiery Magus gives me a playful shove, almost sending me tumbling in a heap of limbs on the ground.
“Okay, okay… Point taken.”
Hauled off to a private room, the Witches’ laughter echoing behind me, I practically collapsed onto the bed, my eyelids already drooping. “Well, this is a pretty soft mattress."
“Is it to your liking?”
“No.” I’d seen Rin’s bed before. It looked and felt just like this. I thought I’d love it, but too much softness weirdly strained my neck.
Give me a firm mattress any day.
Ignoring Mirael’s attempts to guide me back onto the bed, I roll right off, instinctively grabbing the blanket to cocoon myself before succumbing to sleep. A blink later, I was jarred awake by the sound of birdsong. The flight back to London was uneventful, as usual, but the atmosphere in the Tower was anything but. Though no one approached me directly, every step I took, every move I made seemed to be under intense scrutiny from everyone.
My lady-wife’s simps probably.
Not exactly the welcome wagon I was hoping for.
It was a less than ideal situation, and I doubt Lorelei will help.
Hell, if she wanted to clear the air, she would have issued a statement by now. 'A test?'
The thought flickers through my mind, even as the pounding headache demands my full attention like a needy and overly-dependent golden retriever. At least the latter is cute; the headache? Not so much. ‘She wants a show, I’ll give her one.’
Just as I am about to reach the elevator, a voice rings out, sharp and commanding. “Stand right there, upstart!”
“Just my fucking luck.” I mutter under my breath, turning to face the Magus. “What the fuck do you want?”
“My Master wishes to have a word with you. Come.”
Who the fuck does this little piece of shit think he is?
“Then tell your Master to come say it himself. I’m busy.”
I’ve left Gil back at the hotel for days now. While I have no doubt about the Golden Queen’s ability to entertain herself, I did invite her to join me.
Can’t leave her on read forever.
“I told you to wait!”
Before the hand can reach my shoulder, I seize the Magus’ wrist; my eyes, reflecting the intense, stabbing headache I’m enduring, put holes in the man’s face, before my grip tightens, causing his face to go deathly pale. “There’s no way you could have known this, but I’m incredibly hungover right now. You will let me leave, and I will return in the evening to speak with your ‘Master’—whoever the fuck that is—but if you ever try to order me around again,”
Thumb pressed against his wrist, I ‘gently’ dislocate the bone, my free hand latching on his mouth to muffle the pained scream bubbling up his throat.
While I may not be an expert in human anatomy, I have picked up a few things since I got here, largely thanks to Kirei, along with surprisingly detailed notes on the Witcher Trials and their power-system. “I know where every bone in the human body is; I know exactly how to make it as painful as possible without killing you…”
As I bring the Magus to his knees, my mouth nears to his ear and whispers.
“Remember this. You serve on your knees; I rule on my feet. We are not the same.”
“You rule nothing!” He sputters. “It is Lady Barthomeloi who bestowed all the power upon you, you nameless brute!”
“Not for long.”
I promise, laughing while slapping his face, then raise my voice to address the other Magi watching. Showtime.
“I’m sure many of you or your Masters have concerns about your Lady’s sudden marriage… Want to know why she chose me?”
None of them dare to voice it, but the curiosity is clear on their faces. “Because I’m better than you!”
If I didn’t have their full attention already, I definitely do now.
“I’m better than ALL OF YOU! I’ll prove it this evening! Men, women, young and old—it doesn’t matter. I welcome all challengers! If I am defeated, I’ll admit I am not good enough for your ‘Goddess!’ How ‘bout that?”
The crowd roars—some with derisive laughter; others with outrage.
“Look, the upstart married her Majesty and believes he’s as capable as her!”
“Spread the news!”
I fling the Magus into a table, rendering it a heap of broken wood, and enter the elevator alone.
Most of the other Magi hesitate to join, not wanting to be associated with the new black sheep. ‘It’d be hilarious if I just dip, wouldn’t it?’
That’s the thought that occupies me the entire way out.
To assert dominance, I decide to arrive late and let them stew for a bit.
“Do you have a room reserved, sir?” the receptionist inquires.
“My friend’s in the penthouse. Could you give her a call?” I reply.
“Oh… Miss Uruk?” The woman winces at the mention of the last name, much like I do.
Laying it on a little thick there, Gil?
“Yes, her. Blonde bombshell; red eyes with an attitude?”
“I remember her, hard not to,” The receptionist says, blushing slightly. “Let me guess, she hit on you?”
Coughing, she hides her face behind her hand, looking embarrassed.
“It was a little more than that… Plus she paid in gold taels. That was definitely a first for me. Are you her husband?”
“More like…” What the hell are we, really? Friends? Frenemies? Partners-in-crime? “It’s complicated. Just tell her Leo’s here.”
After a short conversation, I take the elevator up to the penthouse overseeing the whole of London, knocking on the door twice to give Gil and whoever she’s fucking time to get decent. “Come in.”
I step into the room to a sight of three scantily-cladded women; two of whom have smudged makeup, while the last being Gil herself does not look any worse for wear.
Unlike the average Jane, Gilgamesh doesn’t wear makeup.
Probably never felt the need to, given her parentage.
The only God ever known to be ugly is Heaphetus, if I’m not wrong? Most are extremely attractive even by this world’s standards. In all honesty, I think prolonged contact with Gilgamesh may have somewhat desentisized me to other beautiful women.
Ignoring the two who blush at my arrival, I sit down beside the bed for a closer conversation. “Get dressed, loves.” I command, tossing the discarded bathroom robes onto the girls’ laps. They seem disappointed by my indifference but comply nevertheless, quickly retreating to the bathroom.
“You didn’t even glance at them twice.”
“What’s there to see? Why would I go for roadside flowers when a whole bouquet is right in front of me.”
“Hmmm… Your tongue’s gotten sweeter.”
Fingers tracing my jawline, Gilgamesh leans forth; back arched like a stretching lioness, then she abruptly stops. “The scent’s stronger.”
“Scent?” I repeat in confusion. “The scent of another woman… So you left me here, all alone, just to visit someone else after asking me to accompany you to this wonderful city?”
“If I could have brought you with me, I would have. Plus London’s far from wonderful. I think I just saw a guy get stabbed just downtown.”
I would have helped, but the victim admitted to killing the young man’s brother in a drunken bar fight.
“Don’t deflect, Leo.”
“Just speaking the truth, and I figured you might want to explore on your own. How on earth did you smell her, anyway?” I’m fairly certain I’ve scrubbed myself thoroughly this morning.
“Intuition. Who’s this ‘her’ you mentioned?”
“Swordswoman, royalty, and a blonde to boot.”
“Was she idealistic?”
“… Kind of?”
“That sounds like her,” Gilgamesh snorts. “I think you may have a type.”
“You only just noticed?”
“So, tell me what’s new with you?”
“I got married to the ‘Queen of the Clock Tower.’”
“Queen?”
“It’s an unofficial Title, but pretty much undisputed.” I clarify.
“Is it the same girl?”
“No, Ciri’s a runaway princess.”
“… Are you specifically targeting royalty?”
“Not exactly,” I admit.
Though I certaibly am fond for Ciri and Saber, entering a political marriage with Lorelei was never something I had in mind.
“On another note, I’m working on acquiring parts of Portugal, South Africa and some private islands in the Pacific. My production line is set to be complete in a year, which will allow me to start selling to the general public. Once my products become an indispensable part of society, it’s game over.”
With control over all the major tech, I can establish a global economic monopoly in a decade; twenty years at the latest.
“You’re planning to take over the world with just wealth?”
“Why not? It’s the most efficient method. If governments have an issue with that, I’ll simply stop supplying them with my products. Let’s see how they fare under the pressure from their own citizens… How sad lil’ Timmy will be when his war veteran dad’s prosthetic stops working because the gov decides to be a cunt.”
“That’s assuming they wouldn’t intervene to prevent you. In my time, no merchant would have been allowed to wield such power.”
“I’ve already thought of that; I’ll operate through shell companies.”
Just like how Coca-Cola and Pepsi are owned by the same parent company—a strategy big corporations abuse extensively to create the illusion of choice.
No matter what the average consumer chooses, it ultimately feeds into the same entity.
I’ll do the same, “Split my products to different companies run by my people, and by the time anyone realizes, it’ll be too late.”
I’d be a God by then; one who can decide the economic fate of an entire nation with naught but a word.
“How devious…”
“You disapprove?”
“The opposite.”
Womanhandling me on the bed, the Queen straddles me; amused gaze meeting my startled one.
“I don’t have a lot of time. Got a duel in the evening.”
“A duel?”
“My ‘wife’ has a lot of crazy fans, unfortunately. Swifties-level crazies who’ll make life difficult if I don’t show them who’s boss.”
“Am I invited to the show?”
“Why do you think I’m here?” I chuckle.
Gilgamesh’s flings find that exact moment to enter, plopping down on the bed next to us, which immediately kills whatever urge I have.
“You two mind if we join?”
Not wanting to hurt their feelings unless they give me a good enough reason, I duck under Gil’s arm and offer an excuse I’ll admit is pretty flimsy by my standards.
“Sorry, love, but not right now. We can enjoy a book if you want?”
The smarter of the two gets the hint and start getting dressed, leaving moments after, though not before leaving their number.
“You don’t like them, I reckon?”
“I don’t dislike them either. Just… Not that interested. It’s kinda your fault.” It is. “It’ll feel like downgrading from a supercar to a Honda Civic.”
“It’s probably for the best, you do have a fight to prepare for.” Laying next to me, Gil summons a bottle of wine that falls with a soft thud on the bedding. “A sip for courage?”
“No need.” I cringe at scent, vomit threatening to spill from my throat.
I can’t even stand the smell of alcohol right now, not after getting completely shit-faced with the Magus Killer last night.
Naturally, I don’t say that out loud; instead, opting for the classic, “It’s just a few Magi. I’d win.”
Comments
Ano Nymous
Took a bit longer, mainly cause I was planning for the future. Finally have a satisfactory end in mind.
Hoang Nguyen Bui
Glad you came back man
