How I Saved History (Fate/Grand Order SI)

[Charles Flynn]

After Rome, well, we spend about a month twiddling our thumbs. Honestly, I really needed the break.

Of course, in between summoning new servants (mostly to flesh out our missing staff. Currently, we're trying to summon a janitor, which has been hard, because Heroic Spirits who won't kill us on the spot for even suggesting they clean our floors are few and far between) I took the time to get to know the ones I had already called forth.

---​

",,.and then John Henry said, 'A man ain't nothing but a man. But I'll beat that machine of yours, or die with a hammer in my hand.'"

"Excellent!" Spartacus cheers, clapping me on the back and nearly breaking half my ribs. "A valiant man indeed! Truly, a hero who stood against oppression! What happened next?"

I'd started off by telling him a bit about how slavery was illegalized in America. Then, I started telling him about the Civil War, and things just kept going from there. He's a receptive audience, at least.

"Well..."

---​

"Medea? You in?" I ask after knocking on the door. It slides open, revealing the hooded Caster.

"Hello, Master." she says after a few minutes of staring at me in silence. "Is there a reason you've disturbed me?"

"Nothing major," I assure her. "I was hoping you could help me with a project of mine."

She sighs. "I suppose I don't have much else to do. What specific Mysteries are you exploring?"

"Mysteries?" I blink. "Medea, I don't need your help because you're a Caster. I need your help because you speak Greek."

She furrows her brow. "What?"

"I've been translating the lost works we picked up in Rome during my free time," I explain. "Problem is, some of them are written in Greek. And even the ones written in Latin have a bit of Greek sprinkled in, because the authors thought it made them sound cooler or something. My Greek is... not that great, honestly. So I was hoping you could double-check my translations, and maybe give me a few pointers on how to handle the language. If it's not too much trouble, that is."

I'm still not entirely comfortable around her, but she did save the world in Rome. I think I can give her the benefit of the doubt.

"So... you want the help of me, a magus from the Age of the Gods... not to teach you lost secrets of magic, but to double-check your translation?" her voice has taken on a strained edge.

"I mean, yeah. I honestly don't trust the whole 'Magecraft' thing. Seems inefficient to me. So, are you in? The other Servants could probably read it, gift of tongues and all, but I'd really prefer to consult with a native speaker."

She starts laughing, leaving me honestly unsure on how to respond. After a solid minute, she recomposes herself. "That sounds... relaxing. I suppose I might as well help you."

---​

"How's the lounge coming together, Mozart?" I ask as I approach. He's currently directing Asterios on where to set down the furniture we got out of the Rome Singularity.

"Exceptionally well!" he calls in answer, grinning like a loon. "This fluffy fellow you've lent me has been quite the help."

Asterios grunts.

"Good to hear. Any requests?"

"Could you get us a piano?"

"I'll... see what I can do."

---
​

But, beyond the Servants we've already summoned, we also gain a plethora of new allies in our month of relative inactivity.

And not a single one of them is willing to swallow their pride enough to mop the f*cking floor.

​

---​

"Servant Assassin. Sasaki Kojirou."

"Good to have you back, Assassin."

He blinks. "Have we met?"
​

---​

"Servant Rider. I heard your call, and came to join." Boudica grins. "Good to see you again, Flynn."

"You too." I grin back in response.

She looks cautiously at Cu (the Spandex Lancer version), Cursed Arm and Asterios, all standing between me and the Summoning Circle. "Am I in trouble for something?"

"Oh, no, not really. They're mostly just here as a safety precaution, or to put down any of the more unstable Servants." I give her my best disarming grin. "Anyways, I'd love to show you around, but I've got to stand through the rest of this summoning. Go down three doors to your left, and talk to Dr. Roman. He'll find something for you to do."
​

---​

"I AM ROMAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

"That's lovely, Romulus." I clear my throat and then take the plunge. "Would you happen to have any trade skills?"

He laughs, posing like he's the long-lost fifth Pillar Man. "I founded a city which grew to rule the world, Master. My skills surpass all! None may equal the glory of ROMA! AND ROMA IS MEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"That's... lovely." I manage. "But... could you maybe try your hand at being an electrician, since you've obviously proven yourself the best city-founder there is?" He looks at me, unamused. "it's just that the lights have been down in most of the corridors, and Lev blew up all the repair guys, so... You know what? Just go find Doctor Roman. Three doors down to the left."

"I like the sound of him already!"
​

---​

"Feast your eyes, for the Outlaw of Darkness has arrived!" the tattooed shirtless man announces as the light around him fades.

I stand in an awkward silence for a moment or two. "I'm sorry, I don't know who you are."

He blinks, and then sighs. "Yeah. Figures."

"I'll look it up, though!" I promise. "But, in the meantime, talk to Dr. Roman. He's-"

"Three doors down to the left, right?" the unknown.. I focus on his stats... Assassin interrupts. "The World included that in the infodump on Chaldea for some reason. Hell if I know why, though."
​

---​

"Archer-class. Arash Kamangir, at your service."

"Neat. You have any trade skills?"

"I'm a pretty good bowyer."

I sigh. "Do you think that could extend to making pianos?"
​

---​

"Berserker! Erik Bloodaxe! Death! Murder! Raaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!"

"Wait." I hold up my hand to stop my guards from jumping on him and killing him. "King Erik Bloodaxe? From Egil's Saga?"

He nods, seeming to forget for a moment that he's supposed to be an insensible ragebeast.

"That's so cool! Do you have any trade skills?"

He shakes his head, slightly perplexed.

"Right. Go talk to Roman, but you'll probably end up keeping Spartacus company in the administrator's break room and making sure he stays out of trouble."

"Administrator's break room?" he asks, bloodlust seemingly forgotten. "I mean, death! Murder! Rawr!"

I raise an eyebrow, but answer the question anyways. "Yeah, the only admin left is Roman, and he barely uses it. Spartacus got it into his head that the elites were tyrannizing the masses by withholding the best resources, and now he's set up in there and refuses to leave. Says he's 'resisting the oppression of a class-based society' or something." I swear to God, if ever get my hands on whoever thought it would be funny to show Spartacus the Communist Manifesto... "But, anyways, Roman, lounge, shoo."
​

---​

"AH. My Christine." the gaunt figure I'm fairly sure is the Phantom of the Opera moans, looking straight at me.

"Cursed Arm!"
​

---​

"Servant Caster. True Name Paracelsus Von Hohenheim. I look forward to working with you." He smiles. Wait. I know who Paracelsus is, but... his last name's Von Hohenheim?

"Ha! I finally get it!" Ha! I got the joke!

"I'm sorry?"

"Nothing, personal epiphany, go talk to Da Vinci. Take the stairs down two flights, hang a left, she'll be the third door on your right."
​

---​

"Servant Caster, I am. And my identity is none other than the inimitable William Shakespeare!"

I freeze.

"Master? Are you quite all right?"

"C-could I get your autograph?"​

 

[Charles Flynn]

"Right. Servants-wise, all are happy and established, more or less. Points to be wary of are Spartacus, who's still occupying the Admin break room, and Erik Bloodaxe, who seems like a decent chap, but is also a murderous psychopath. He's still hanging out with Spartacus, though, so you'll be fine if you avoid the Admin breakroom." I conclude, flipping to the next page of my report. "That said, most of the Servants are helping as best they can, and the ones too crazy to function in polite society are all holed up in the admin break room."

Tom, current head of the electrical repairs division (Da Vinci's too busy to be bothered, so we just appointed the one guy who watched a whole bunch of do-it-yourself home repair videos once) raises a hand. "Why aren't you disposing of Spartacus? I mean, he's clearly unstable, and definitely taking up mana resources that could be better used elsewhere." He gets a few harsh looks, but it's a valid question, so I answer it.

"Well, firstly, my decision to keep him around is mostly motivated by my unwillingness to throw out a potentially useful asset." I explain. "Servants are all tools to a certain extent, and every last one of them is top of the line at what they do. Disposing of one prematurely is just wasteful, and could come back to bite us if we run into a problem that the discarded Servant could have solved easily. Just look at Medea, for example. The only reason we won the last Singularity was because we had the perfect Servant for the job directly on hand."

I see the others start to nod, so I keep going. "Further, keeping him around is good for morale."

Roman clears his throat. "How so?"

"It proves to the Servants, and, to a lesser extent, the human staff, that I'm not a tyrant. If I was running a controlling, police state type of deal, instantly disposing of any Servants who wouldn't obey me, or who cause trouble in any way, I would have immediately gotten rid of Spartacus, who's literally a physical embodiment of rebellion." I pause for a second, to catch my breath and think on how best to explain it. "By keeping Spartacus around, I let the other Servants breath a little easier and feel a bit more safe and secure in their positions here. I also reinforce their faith in my judgement, and their belief that the Servants I had killed immediately upon summoning them really were too unstable to work with, allowing me to dispose of the more hazardous Servants we summon without fear of censure."

I'm getting worried looks again.

"Also, killing him would be.... wrong. Because killing is bad."

Roman snorts. "Right, so, anything else?"

"Well, the lounge is halfway set up. We added the furniture we got from Rome in, to replace all the stuff that was destroyed in the bombing, and Mozart is learning his way around the pianbow."

"Pianbow?" Da Vinci repeats, clearly interested.

"Arash only makes bows and arrows. Sometimes those bows are also musical instruments."

"You know, Ben Franklin is compared to me a lot, and he invented his own musical instrument, but I don't think I ever got around to..."

Roman sighs. "Da Vinci, what did we agree about passion projects?"

"That they could wait until I got around to fixing the hot water." She mutters, looking crestfallen before perking right back up. "But I'm almost there, honestly! Tom's doing great at fixing the lighting, and I've almost got everything running again!"

"Then once 'almost' becomes 'already,' I'm sure your instrument will be wonderful." Roman assures her, before turning back to the room at large. "So, now that Charlie's wrapped up his report, we can move on to the main meat of the meeting. We need to resupply again. It's been a month, and we're running low on food and alcohol, the last partly because Charlie summoned a Viking a week ago."

"And a metric fuckton of mostly useless assorted weaponry." I grumble. "Oh, I should probably warn you that we had to make another junk closet. Just so we don't have another incident like the time the last janitor accidentally got stabbed by that hydra blood dagger."

"Poor Jack," somebody mutters.

"Yes, and let's try to avoid that. There's only twenty-four human beings left on the planet right now. We don't want that number to drop down into the 'teens.'" Roman says, reclaiming our attention. "Now. We need more food. And more booze. With regards to the other supplies, we're actually completely fine, though. Plenty more in our reserves from Rome. Honestly, though, we could get by for the next three months with no problems."

"But a limited diet and absolutely no booze make for poor morale." I add, picking up from there. "Not to mention, I'm pretty sure that Cu (all three of him) have a bit of a drinking problem, and I don't want to test whether Servants can go through withdrawal with the guy who's somewhat famous for freaking the fuck out and going on berserk rampages."

"Is this... okay?" Jessica asks quietly. "I mean, we'd be stealing from these people just so we'll be more comfortable. That's not something I'm okay with."

"Fortunately, we don't have to steal." Roman says. "We Rayshifted a great deal of money out of Rome, in addition to the material goods. It might not be the local currency, but gold is still gold."

"Yeah, we really took Nero for all she was worth." in hindsight, going behind Seneca's back and taking our frankly ridiculous list of demands straight to Nero was a bit of a dick move. We basically fleeced her out of half her treasury.

"So, we're just going to... buy what we need?" Jerry summarizes, looking outright relieved.

"Until the money runs out and we have to resort to banditry again, yes." I add. "Or until we end up in a time period where our money is functionally worthless. But it still opens up a lot of options." I turn to Roman. "So, where's the Micro-Singularity?"

"Ulster, in the year 22 AD."

 

[Charles Flynn]

"Roman? Any signs of trouble?" I ask as I step out into the... I hesitate to call them streets, but... most popular footpaths? of Ulster. Negotiations have wrapped up, and we're good to go. On another note, I'm starting to really get why Conchobar mac Nessa was elected king. He might be a slimeball, but he's still remarkably charismatic in person, and a pretty good negotiator.

"None so far." he assures me, still on guard, as wary as I am of sudden complications. We both remember how bad our last supply run went, and we're not exactly keen on a repeat.

"Good. Keep watching." I turn to Caster, who's still at my side, unlike the other two Cus who both split off to walk through their old hometown once I didn't need all three of them on hand to keep Conchobar honest. "So, care to show me around?"

"Sure," he murmurs, slightly distracted.

"Are you okay?"

He sighs. "Not really."

"I'm sorry, then." I look out over the town. It's beautiful, and the air feels cleaner than any I've breathed before, but even so, it's not my home. "I shouldn't have brought you along, if it's painful for you."

He snorts. "Don't give me that. You asked, I volunteered. If anything, I should be cursing myself for being a fool. Not you." He sighs. "Still, she's as beautiful as ever. It only hurts when I remember I can't stay."

I pat him on the back. "Mind giving me a tour, then? Might take your mind of it."

"You really want to see the sights, huh?"

"Hey, it's not every day you get to see the home of Ireland's greatest hero."

"Flatterer." he squares his shoulders. "Well, for starters, I had my first warp spasm in that field over there."

---​

The tour goes well, and seems to cheer Cu up a bit, until we come to a small, thatched building.

"That... that was my house." Cu notes, his good cheer draining away and replaced with a sort of wistful, homesick longing. "Me and Emer spent our time there, when I wasn't away."

"What was she like?" I ask gently.

"She was-"

"Cu!" a well-figured redhead I can only assume to be Emer calls, looking out from the house's window. "Oh, good, you're back. What took you so long?"

She hurries out the door to meet with us. Her hair is pulled back in a tight braid, and her dress is an interesting shade of light blue. Cu stares at her in shock, his face a battlefield between fear and longing.

"Really, you were gone too long. And where's that horse, mister?" she frowns. "Look, if this was just an excuse to go sleep with Marach's daughter, you could have just said that. We both agreed that you wouldn't bother with the excuses, and you'd always come back, so-"

He kisses her, and she looks surprised, but leans into it after a second. Finally, they break apart, and she gives him a bemused look. "And what was that about, Mister?"

"Missed you," he replies, staring at her as if she's the only thing that matters in all the world, which wins an affectionate smile from her. I shift awkwardly, completely forgotten a few feet away from them and feeling like a voyeur.

"Idiot. You left ten minutes ago," she comments, her voice thick with amused exasperation. "Although, I wouldn't be opposed to that becoming our regular greeting."

Wait. Ten minutes ago?

Caster seems to suddenly remember exactly where he is, and opens his mouth to say something, before he's clobbered by a flying horse.

I turn my head with a sinking feeling in my gut, and see the one and only original Cu Chulainn, seething with fury.

"Hi honey." He says, his voice clipped, his face twitching with rage. "Back. Brought horse. Horse might be dead. Going to kill doppelganger. Might miss lunch."

Emer, for her part, is looking between her Cu and the now-groaning Caster in confusion.

And as Ireland's Greatest Hero lunges towards Caster, his muscles already twisting and bulging, I'm already running away as fast as I can.

 

[Charles Flynn]

The fight's... going somewhat poorly. I wince as Cu (Version One: The Spearless Menace) is sent flying back. Cu (Version Two: The Attack of the Spandex) tries to take his place, but he's being beaten back as well, beneath Cu (Version Four: A New headache)'s relentless blows.

They were actually doing all right at first, but then Cu (Version Four: A New Headache) noticed Caster Cu's trick of using his runes to boost his parameters, and copied it. Now, between his natural prowess, runic enhancement, and the fact that he's halfway warp-spasmed, Original Flavor Cu is basically dominating his Servant counterparts. And also completely wrecking Ulster. Cu Three is currently still embedded headfirst in the ground up to his ankles, and the other two aren't looking too hot either.

'Master, what's going on?' Hundred Face sends.

'We ran into the original, non-Servant Cu Chullain ' I send back. ' He reacted poorly.'

'Why?'

'Long story, tell you later. Just keep up the transfer of goods. and tell the others to stay out of this. As long as this stays a fight between four different Cu Chulainns, the Ulstermen won't turn on us.' As I send that off, I suddenly feel something sharp against my throat, as somebody behind me puts me in an arm lock.

"Well." Emer says. "I've been asking about, and everyone said you were the leader of the merchants that the other three came in with. So, Mister Merchant, would you care to explain why there are suddenly four of my husband?" She twists my arm for emphasis.

"I'm sorry," I answer in English. "I can't speak Gaellic." Roman's translation program might let me know what the locals are saying, but it doesn't let me speak with them. So, yeah, I'm probably getting my throat cut today.

She frowns, and then traces a few runes.

"Well," she begins again, in English this time. "I've been asking about, and-"

"I heard you the first time." I interrupt. "I can understand your language, I just can't speak it."

"How does that work?"

"Geasa." I lie. Trying to go into the technical explanation would probably just annoy her. "I didn't know you could cast rune magic."

"Cu taught me." she replies tersely, before twisting my arm again. "And, on the subject of my husband..."

"Okay, yes, I'll tell you!" I scream. "Jesus Christ."

"Who's he?" she asks.

"Carpenter way out east. His work gets really popular over here in a few centuries. As to how I know that..."

---​

"That is easily the most unbelievable story I've ever heard," she comments after I'm done telling her. "But it does sound like exactly the sort of thing my husband would get mixed up in."

"Soooo..." I prompt. I lost feeling in my arm halfway through my story, and I'm kind of attached to my right hand.

"I'll sort this out," she grumbles, letting me go and then walking towards the ongoing fight, which mostly boils down to the now fully Riastraded original Cu Chulainn using his spandex-clad Lancer counterpart as a club in order to bludgeon his Caster counterpart.

I rub my arm in relief before turning my attention as she walks up to the four-way battle (Cu Three managed to mostly dig his way out).

"CU CHULAINN!" she shouts, and every Cu turns his head towards her, looking like a bunch of kids with their hands caught in the cookie jar. "You knock this off right now!"

"But, Emer," Cu Three whines.

"None of that from you, mister." He hangs his head with a whimper. She turns back to Cu Four, who looks remarkably chastised for a hideous, twisted, and warped abomination of inhuman flesh. "And as for you, husband, put that down."

"But Emer," he growls in a voice like knives cutting through Styrofoam, "He-"

"None of that from you. I don't care who started this, I'm ending it." she glares at him until he puts Lancer (Spandex Version) down, already shrinking back down. "Now then. Husband, you're going to let these three go."

"Emer!" he interjects, looking genuinely angry.

"According to their keeper over there, they're versions of you that he summoned to help him fight."

Cu redirects his glare to me, and I damn near shit my pants, before turning back to Emer with all the pitiful, soulful grace of a kicked puppy. "But still, that one got fresh with you!"

"And it was an honest misunderstanding. I'm sure you'd be rather happy to see me too, if we'd been apart for years." He winces at the thought. "There was no harm done, you understand me? So you'll let them carry out their business and leave." He hesitates, before nodding. With her husband squared away, she turns to Caster, who's gingerly rising from the crater his original self beat him into. "Caster, was it?"

"Yes." he mutters, looking down.

"I forgive you." she says, pulling his chin up to make him look her in the eyes. "And I'm proud of you." his ears actually perk up when she says that. "From what that one tells me, you're doing good work. So keep to it, all right? I'm sure that when he gets around to summoning a version of me, she'll feel the same way." And with that said, she turns and leaves. "Husband, we're going home."

"Yes, Emer." Ireland's Greatest Hero dutifully replies, walking along after her. I manfully resist the urge to make the "whipped" gesture.

Once the two of them are gone, I sit down besides Caster, who's grinning like a loon.

"I'm starting to see why you fell for her."

"Yeah." he muses fondly, staring at the corner she disappeared around. "She really was one of a kind."

 

[Charles Flynn]

"Who's a good girl? It's you! You're such a good girl!" I coo, ruffling Foxmamo's ears, before sighing. "Okay, yeah, it's not working. You're fluffy and all, but it's just not the same."

She shifts back to her human-ish form and pouts. "But Master, I'm sure I can-"

"Look, I know, you're trying, but..." I think on it for a bit. "It's just not the same. For starters, you're a fox, not a dog, and trust me, the difference is extremely clear. Secondly, you're sapient, and I know you're sapient, and that just makes it weird. Lastly, even if I could forget the first two and pretend you're just a dog, you're not one of my dogs. You can't replace them." She looks crestfallen, so I sigh and throw her a bone. "We can still go through with the whole 'therapy fox' idea. Just because it doesn't work for me doesn't mean it won't work for everyone."

"Alright, Master," she agrees, perking up a bit. "I'll head back to the cafeteria kitchens, now, if you don't need me for anything else!"

"Just make sure to wear your hairnet. Picking hair out of my food is bad enough, I'd really rather not add fur into the mix."

She nods, and then runs off, while I sigh and turn to my self-appointed personal assistant.

"Mash, what's next on the agenda?"

"Summoning, Senpai!" she informs me cheerfully.

"You do know that you don't have to spend your time running around with me, right?" I ask.

"Yes, but I want to spend time with you, Senpai!"

"Well, your time, your choice." I sigh, then think of something. "Is that Fou creature still around? Do you think he's work for the therapy dog idea?" Come to think of it, what happened to the little thing? Did we eat it?

"Oh, he's still around, Senpai!" she informs me brightly. "He doesn't seem to like you or Galahad much, though. He runs away whenever you're around."

Heh. Can't blame him. But, for now, self-loathing can wait. It's summoning time.

---​

"Right. Nine failures, last shot. Marjani! Fire it up!" I raise a hand dramatically. No real reason to, but I am a bit of a ham at heart.

She nods, flipping the appropriate switches and levers as the rings start to spin once more. In front of me, Cu (Lancer Junior), Asterios, and Cursed Arm all stand at the ready.

A figure forms in the light, and as the light clears... oh, no.

"Rejoice, mortals!" Caligula proclaims, posing dramatically. "For a god has seen your workings, and blessed you with his presence!"

Right, pull it together, Charlie. That Imperial Privilege of his could make him the perfect handyman, if you can play him well enough. A shower that's above room temperature is within your reach!

"Emperor Gaius Caesar Augustus Germanicus?" I begin, laying on the flattery. Let's see, how many of those ridiculous cognomens of his can I remember? "Pius? Pater exercituum? Filius castrorum? Truly, we are blessed beyond all reason to have one of your divine stature among us."

Mash and Cu are both giving me looks, but I keep my face straight.

"Truly, you are insightful to know my divine presence at a sight, my Master!" Caligula bellows jovially. "Your wit is as tight and firm as my sister's vagina!"

I- how do you respond to that? How the actual hell do you respond to that?

As I reel from Caligula's attempt at a compliment, he walks past me.

-I mean, Jesus Christ, that's just wrong on so many levels! Who the Hell says something like that? Wait, hold on, is he already gone? Shit.

"Okay!" I call, rousing the others from their worried circle about me. "We need to track him down and get him properly settled in! Marjani-" she's staring at the wall, looking about as shell-shocked as I was. "-page Roman and Da Vinci to warn them, and then take the rest of the day off. Recover from your Caligula overdose. Servants, Mash, with me!"

---​

We've just finished canvassing the second floor (home to the Summoning Chamber) when we hear the explosions and the screaming. I turn to Cursed Arm. "Caligula?"

"Caligula."

"Double time, people!" I take the opportunity to send a quick mental message to my Servants. 'Gaius Caligula has been summoned, and is loose in the facility. Anyone who has eyes on him, feel free to tell me now, because I can already hear explosions.'

'I can see him.' Spartacus sends to me, his mind feeling unusually contemplative, as if he's mulling over some great problem.

'Where is he, and what is he doing?' I send back.

'He is just outside of the base of Erik and I's Occupy the Admin Break Room movement.' Spartacus pauses. 'And he is currently getting beaten to a bloody pulp by Erik.'

"Admin Break Room!" I call to my posse, making a beeline for it.

"RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Erik roars, his voice reverberating through my very bones as I round the corner and look at the bloodbath.

The Viking King and the Roman Emperor both look the worse for the wear. Caligula's covered in axe wounds, and Erik looks just as bad off, his entire body covered in ugly bruises and contusions. But Erik's still standing, powering through his wounds, while Caligula is severely hampered by his own injuries, one of his arms barely able to move. But still, they hammer away at each other, face split into snarling, rabid fury, each caring not one whit for their own survival, only that the other perishes. Caligula is on the defensive now, pushed back as Erik's axe keeps falling, again and again. He tries to strike back, but he can't, his fists no good against an actual weapon, his technique that of a boxer and not a martial artist, all strength and savagery, devoid of the subtlety and skill that let the weak defeat the strong.

"Charlie!" Roman calls over my communicator. "Servants are fighting!"

"I have eyes on them now." I reply coolly. "And the walls they broke through. How are they able to fight, by the way? I thought their mana flow was restricted in Chaldea."

The rest of my posse runs down to join me, but I hold up my hand to restrain them.

Between the two berserkers, I'd pick the one that I could keep under control. Thus far, that seemed to be Erik, and since he was winning, I could probably dispose of Caligula without needing a Command Seal.

"We relaxed the restriction a bit to let your guards in the Summoning Chamber function. We're closing the loophole now!" Roman answers.

I duck my head and lower my voice, so the others won't overhear. "Try to wait until after the fight wraps up? Erik's winning."

"Why?"

"I'm starting to think I can't control Caligula. Erik killing him lets me play it off as something unconnected to me."

"You're a cold bastard, Flynn."

"Flatterer."

Erik's axe descends, his roar of triumphant fury leaving my ears ringing, as he finally gets his opening, his axe cleaving into Caligula's chest and sending the Emperor staggering into the wall behind him, his face a rictus of shock and pain. And then Erik lunges forwards, his axe hacking away at the Emperor until nothing remains but dissolving blood and viscera, roaring all the while.

A minute after the fact, Erik seems to realize that his opponent's dead, blinking, and calming himself.

Good thing, too. He's already punched a hole in three separate walls during his fight with Spartacus, and it was looking like he was going to tack on a fourth to that count.

Roman's gonna be pissed.

I start clapping, and Erik turns to look at me, suddenly looking a lot more panicked than previously.

"Bravo! You really showed all those walls what for!" Erik's panic shifts into guilt, and I turn to Spartacus, who's standing on the sidelines of the fight with a contemplative look on his face. "Hey, Spartacus? Would you mind telling me what the hell started this?" My tone takes on a dangerous edge. "And why you didn't intervene to break it up?"

He turns to look at me, his brow unfurrowing as he evidently sets his conundrum aside. "Erik and I were in the breakroom, valiantly resisting oppression, when the Emperor Gaius Caligula entered."

"And you knew it was him because..."

"He loudly announced his presence, while simultaneously proclaiming himself a god."

"Yeah. Figures. What happened next?"

"I was reluctant to accommodate him, seeing as he was a Roman oppressor, but Erik was more welcoming. He offered Caligula a chair, at which point Caligula said that he would sleep with Erik's wife as thanks." Spartacus frowns. "That was when Erik started screaming bloody murder and trying to kill Caligula."

"And you didn't try to stop this because..."

"I was unsure who was the greater oppressor." Spartacus tells me solemnly. "Certainly, Erik had violently attacked Caligula over his words, repressing his freedom to speech and life, but at the same time, Caligula was a Roman oppressor, who had stated that he would sleep with Erik's wife, with no regard for Erik's wife's personal feelings on the matter. I could not intervene until I had determined who was being oppressed."

I sigh. "Well, I'm proud of you for learning moral relativism, buddy." I turn to Erik, who can't bring himself to look me in the eye. "Erik."

"Yes, Master?"

"You'll be helping to repair the damage you caused."

"Yes, Master."

"And if you ever pull something like this again, I will have you terminated on the spot."

"Understood."

"Good. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an emergency meeting to attend, and some tempers to soothe." I turn to Mash, who's still frozen, staring at where Caligula was ripped into shreds. "Mash?"

"Yes, Senpai?" she asks in a small voice, not looking at me.

"If you're feeling up to it, could you talk to the various experts and get me some rough estimates of how much time and manpower the repairs will take?" I ask gently. "If not, go talk to Caster at the bar. Take the rest of the day off."

She nods, and heads off, not telling me which of the options she's taking.

As for myself, I square my shoulders and head on up for a very uncomfortable staff meeting.

 

[Charles Flynn]

"The damages are going to take about a month to fix." Da Vinci informs us. "And we're going to need to go on another raid to get supplies for repairs. Erik broke some of the piping in the fight, so a solid third of the facility is going to be without running water until we get that fixed."

I keep my back straight and my eyes forwards, not letting the glares I'm getting bring me down.

"Damn." Roman growls. He turns to me. "Charlie, what happened? How did Caligula get loose?"

Okay, no way I'm telling them what actually happened. Lifetime of lying to get out trouble, don't fail me now! Fortunately, I do actually have an excuse ready. "Caligula used his Imperial Privilege to simulate the Charisma skill. By the time I snapped out of it and realized he'd hoodwinked me, he was already gone."

Roman sighs. "Alright. Fair enough. How are you going to keep a repeat from happening?"

I pause, thinking it over. "Best counter for Charisma is someone with a similar or higher rank. We haven't summoned anyone with that skill... I think... so we'll have to bring someone with Mad Enhancement or Mental Interference along as a guard in the Summoning Chamber." I mull it over. "Actually, I think the best bet would be Georgios. His Martyr's Soul skill makes him resilient against any and all forms of mental influence. Plus, he's actually a good Servant for defending me if something goes wrong."

"Right," Tom interrupts. "But the biggest problem isn't just that. It's Erik's freakout. I mean, he just flipped out at the drop of a hat! What are you doing about all the Servants with Mad Enhancement?"

I raise an eyebrow. "You do remember the list, right?"

"Um…"

"The 'Servants to approach with care and keep an eye on' list? The one I handed out a few months back?"

"Well, yes, that's helpful and all, but what are you doing to restrain them? They could just flip out and kill us all at any moment!" he's evidently the minority opinion, but some of the others are looking concerned at the thought.

"Obviously, they can kill us all. They're Servants. Even the weakest of them could kill five of us in the time it takes a normal human to sneeze." I point out deadpan. All of the others are suddenly looking a lot more nervous. "They're working with and for us because our goals align. I can't restrain them without using a Command Seal, and to do so would poison the trust and respect they have for me as their superior, while simultaneously breeding resentment. I have a standing policy of never violating the free will of someone I plan to let live for that exact reason. Beyond even that, using my Command Seals in such a manner would be a show of weakness as a commander." I stare out at the increasingly horrified table of my peers. "That's why I've been terminating certain Servants upon summoning them. If they don't acknowledge my authority, and I can't manipulate them safely, they'll only bring trouble."

"So-" Tom looks like he's going to have a heart attack. "We only run this show because they let us?"

"Like any government or administration, we rule through the consent of the governed. It's just that this time the governed have magic swords and superpowers."

Everyone's still reeling from that one, so I press on. "Erik has continued to acknowledge my authority, and has expressed contrition for his actions, so I've allowed him to live. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to run a general survey of Chaldea's Servants."

I get up and leave. The roster's really grown, lately. I think I'm going to have to make a list of my Servants.

 

[Charles Flynn]

My list compiled, I set out to check up on the three Servants whose current activities I'm in the dark on.

---​

"He's just been there ever since you summoned him, praying constantly. Hasn't moved a muscle." Georgios tells me quietly, gesturing towards where Gilles de Rais kneels in the pews of the chapel, hands clasped, head bowed, eyes shut. "We've tried talking to him, but he never responds."

"I'll have a go at it." I give him a grin. "Watch my back?"

"Always." he affirms with a solemn nod.

I walk down the aisle, turning to the right-hand row of pews in the small chapel, three rows from the front, where the infamous Bluebeard is crouched, quietly mouthing prayers. "Sir Gilles? May I speak with you?"

His prayers come to a stop, and he raises his head to look at me, dark, haunted eyes peering out from behind a curtain of greasy, unkempt hair. "Master? Do you require my sword arm?"

"No, not at the moment."

"Then I must ask that you leave me to my prayers."

"Very well. But, may I ask what you pray for?" I sit down a couple spaces away from him in the pew.

He remains silent for a long moment, staring fervently at the cross he clasps in his hands.

The moment stretches long, and I begin to get up, but he finally speaks up, still not moving his eyes from the cross. "Forgiveness for my sins. And that my Lord and Savior may see fit to guide St. Jeanne to Chaldea, that I might serve at her side once more. The world... the world feels so empty without her."

I smile, with as much kindness as I can manage. "Then I hope your prayers find their answer soon."

I leave, and Gilles resumes his mumbled chant behind me.

---​

Right. Assassin's next. A quick stop by Roman's office reveals both his name and his work location.

I find him just outside the first junk closet, trying to clean up the stains that the last janitor left behind.

"Okay, what the Hell made these goddamn stains?" I hear him scream in frustration.

"Your predecessor." I answer, and he jumps, before settling down when he recognizes me.

"The last janitor?" he asks. "Goddammit, I hate the guy already. What happened to him anyway?"

"You're looking at him." I point at the black, tar-like stains that coat the floor in this corridor. Yan Qing recoils, and I decide to tell him the story. "Okay, so the last janitor, whose name was Jack, by the way, was a bit forgetful by all accounts. He kept confusing the junk closet for one of his supply closets, and, well, one day a dagger coated in hydra blood fell and stabbed him."

"Hydra blood?" Yan Qing asks, looking queasy.

"Yep. Terrible way to go. We managed to keep him alive long enough for Medea to get here to try and heal him, and she took one look at him and killed him on the spot." I recount. "Said it was a mercy, and I don't disagree with her. He was screaming his lungs out in agony the entire time, at least until the poison dissolved his lungs and he started vomiting black gunk that ate his teeth. After he died, his body just sort of dissolved into the black gunk (which smelled terrible, by the way) and we all just sort of... ran. It dried out, afterwards, and ended up covering the whole corridor." I pause. "Most of us just try and avoid this hallway, nowadays. I can't though, since, y'know, summoning chamber's here and all. So, yeah, thanks for cleaning it up! Now I don't have to walk through my former coworker's corpse every day."

"I quit."

"Wait, no, hold on just a minute!"

He's already walking away.

---​

After thoroughly failing to persuade Yan Qing to retake his position as janitor, I set off in search of Shakespeare. I find him in the cafeteria, interviewing Marjani.

"Ah, a tragedy indeed. Tell me, where were you, when the bombs went off?" he asks. Marjani's looking slightly uncomfortable, so I decide to relieve her.

"Shakespeare! I've been looking for you!" I call. "What've you been up to?"

"Ah, Master!" Shakespeare grins. "I've been collecting accounts, as it were. Putting together an eye-witness history of Chaldea's efforts, so that I can write a play on the subject."

Shakespeare's... writing a new play... about me?

I bound across the cafeteria, coming to a halt besides him.

"Tragedy or comedy?"

"Tragedy, I should think. Although I don't doubt that the ending hangs upon your results."

"I'll try not to be offended at your lack of faith. How are you planning to pare down the cast?"

"And whatever makes you think I'd do such a thing?" he asks, looking at me appraisingly.

"Too many Servants in Chaldea, especially for a theater company. You have to cut some of them out, in order to streamline the play."

He nods. "I see you're not unfamiliar with theater."

"My knowledge isn't the best, but I've seen one or two plays, a solid percentage of which were yours." I stop. "So, do you want a first-hand account of the Singularities?"

He already has his pen and paper out.

As I start to tell my story, I notice that Marjani already took the opportunity to slip away.

 

[Charles Flynn]

"To the next Singularity!"

Our glasses (acquired at Rome) clink as the Chul Kids and I share a toast.

"They located it?" Caster asks after the glass clinking is done.

"Yep. It's out on the Atlantic, 1573." I take a sip and then continue. "No idea what's going on there, but I get the feeling it'll be a weird one."

"You bringing any of us along?" asks Spandex Lancer, raring for a fight.

"'fraid not. Nothing personal, but I'd rather stick with my generalists, set up a base and a summoning circle, and then call in the more specialized ones, y'know?" I take another drink. "Of course, with my luck being what it is, and you being, well, you, you'll probably end up seeing some action."

"Now there's something worth drinking to!" Young Lancer cheers.

"Senpai?" Mash asks. "Are you sure you should be drinking the night before you deploy?"

"Probably not. I'll keep it to one drink."

---​

The next morning, I walk into the Rayshift chamber, with a splitting hangover and a burning hatred for everything that is.

"Senpai! Are you all right?"

"Just fine."

"But-"

"Just. Fine."

"Alright." she droops, and I suddenly feel bad for snapping at her.

"Really, it's fine, Mash. Thanks for looking out for me." I grin, and she seems to cheer up slightly.

Then I head up to address my team: Vlad, Xuanzang, Yan Qing, Cursed Arm, Georgios, and Tamamo Cat. "All right, people. You know the drill. We end the Singularity and save history. Now let's get the job done."

Nods all around.

With that said, I look up at Roman, who gives me a nod, and then step into my Rayshift Coffin.

And the light lifts me away, to adventures and atrocities alike.

 

[Charles Flynn]

We appear on a ship. I stumble for a moment, but then catch my balance, moving my body in time with the rhythm of the waves. I always did enjoy going out on the water.

The others all also seem to find their sea legs, and I take a second to simply bask in the sun on my back, and the salt on the breeze. The day is warm, the waves rock the ship in a soothing cadence, and we seem to be surrounded by pirates.

They've formed a ring about us, each armed to the teeth and absurdly scruffy. Interestingly, there's not a single peg-leg to be seen, but still, the black flag flying up on the mast is a bit of a dead giveaway.

"And who are you?" a woman's voice rings out. "To go appearin' out of nowhere on my Golden Hind wit' no regard for her captain?"

Wait. The Golden Hind? But that's...

I'm beginning to suspect that historians and artists might just be spectacularly bad at discerning gender.

"Captain Francis Drake, I presume?" I ask, feeling dead inside as I turn towards the voice. She's... oh dear God. How? How the ACTUAL FUCKING HELL DID ANYBODY MISTAKE HER FOR A MAN? I quit. I fucking quit. Humanity isn't worth saving, if this is a thing. I don't want to live in a world where this is a thing.

"You presume rightly, stowaway," Sir Francis fucking Drake replies, in all her busty, pink-haired, extremely feminine glory. She's even dressed like a pirate-themed stripper! What the actual fuck?

"My Queen?" a decidedly male voice asks from the captain's cabin. "What are you doing?"

A brown-haired man, clad in dark-brown trousers and a white shirt, emerges from the cabin. He looks around in irritation, and then turns back to stare at the pink-haired woman, who's looking slightly sheepish.

Wait. Is that?

"Elizabeth, I am ever your most loyal subject, but please, for the love of God, stop pretending to be me." the real Sir Francis Drake admonishes, simultaneously restoring my faith in humanity. "And, as for the rest of you-" the various deck hands all look a bit nervous. "for God's sake, don't encourage her." He makes his way towards us, before stopping and looking disapprovingly at one of his crewmembers. "Smith, what the Hell are you wearing?"

"A-an eyepatch, sir."

"I know for a fact that you have two perfectly functional eyes, Smith, so why are you wearing an eyepatch?"

"Ah-um- I-"

"It was because she thought it looked cool, wasn't it?" Smith nods. "Take it off, and I had better not see you wearing it again unless you've lost an eye, understood?" Smith nods again, already taking off his eyepatch. "Good. Because, regardless of what Elizabeth says, or whatever bizarre, unending sea we find ourselves in, we are privateers. Not pirates!"

He turns back to us. "Now who the Hell are you?"

Actually, I have the perfect answer to that question. Galahad seems to know what I'm about to say. "Flynn, no."

"We're time pirates."

"Goddammit, Flynn!"

 

[Charles Flynn]

"Time pirates." Drake repeats skeptically, whilst Queen Elizabeth the First looks like a kid on Christmas. "Really."

"Well, I suppose it would be more accurate to call us privateers, after a fashion." I demur. "Allow me to properly introduce myself. Charles Flynn, Chaldea's field agent."

"Chaldea?" he repeats, still skeptical.

"Right, like hell I'm actually going through this. Roman, take over." I activate the holographic projector, and then step back to let Dr. Roman explain who we are.

---​

After Roman's explanation has ended, I watch Sir Francis Drake, who's been remarkably quiet through all of this.

"You know, if I'd heard that spiel under normal circumstances, I would've taken you for every cent you were worth and then thrown you overboard."

"I take it we're in unusual circumstances, then?" I ask pointedly.

"Yes. To begin with, this sea is endless, and not on any of our charts. And that's not even counting how Elizabeth accidentally marooned me and then supposedly mugged Poseidon a week back."

"I said I was sorry!" she interjects.

"And I'm still considering your apology." he shoots back, before returning his attention to us. "So, I'm reather inclined to believe you. Especially since you speak so strangely."

Wait, what does he- Oh! The translator program is still running! They're speaking Elizabethan English, while I'm speaking American English! I'm actually surprised they can understand me at all!

"I'm glad for your trust, then, Sir Drake."

"Indeed. We're sailing for an island that some of the sailors that got trapped in this sea with us have been using as a port." he looks at me appraisingly. "You're the commander, out to save the world, right?"

"That is my current job description, yes."

"Join me in my cabin. England's a part of the world, so I suppose I'm honorbound to help you with your quest." he looks at the various Servants with mild distaste. "Leave your troop of misfits here, though. Only so much room in my cabin, and I don't want the spiky one scratching up my furniture."

Vlad, fortunately, takes the insult in stride, and he and the rest of the Servants are soon distracted from Drake's dismissal by the rapid-fire questions of an enthusiastic Elizabeth the First.

"Right then. Let's sort our strategy out, Captain Drake."

The cabin is a lot darker, but my eyes quickly adjust to the light streaming in through the portholes. Drake easily moves through the cramped space, coming to sit at a table with a mostly-blank nautical chart on it.

"So. What do we have to do to fix this?"

"Well, each Singularity is centered around a Holy Grail, as Roman explained. They tend to be full of Servants, legendary figures brought back from the dead as superhuman versions of themselves. And, perhaps most vitally, each is in some way intended to disrupt the course of human history. Usually by killing an important historical figure, or killing everyone in the Singularity."

"You think it's targeting Elizabeth." Drake infers.

"Or you." I counter. "Both of you are incredibly important figures, who helped set the course of history."

"I suppose that's a bit of a relief," Drake comments, grinning slightly, "To know that I made my mark, in the end."

"I would imagine so." I agree. "Beyond that, however, I need to know how and why Elizabeth came to travel with you."

Drake sighs. "It all ties back to Dee."

"John Dee?"

"One and the same. He feared there was a n assassination plot afoot, and, once he'd convinced Elizabeth of the threat's veracity, conjured up an angel to serve as her body double, while she went on a voyage with me, disguised by his magic." he chuckles. "I think this is the most fun she's ever had. It's good to see her relax out here. Although I do wish she'd take things a little more seriously, and also stop pretending to be me."

"No chain of command difficulties? She is your queen, after all."

"No. When I'm in her kingdom, she calls the shots, and I know that. But we're in my kingdom, now, and for all her exuberance, she remembers that." He focuses on me again. "Actually, if it's a Holy Grail you're looking for, I think we might be able to wrap this up before the day's out."

"Really?"

He rises, and heads for the door, and I follow him, ducking around the astrolabe, and lowering my head so as not to bump it against the taxidermized seagull hanging from the cabin's roof. I have a feeling that there's a story behind the seagull, but I'm a bit afraid to ask, honestly.

We emerge from the cabin, to find the entire deck has descended into a revel, with my Servants seeming to have been dragged in, to various degrees of willingness. Galahad looks exasperated, Yan Qing exceedingly drunk, Vlad's being used as the target for a ring toss game, Hassan's nowhere to be seen, Georgios looks about as irritated as Galahad, Tamamo's pigging out on roast boar, and Xuanzang's in a drinking contest against Queen Elizabeth, the two women taking drinks out of- is that the Holy Grail? Queen Elizabeth the First is using the Cup of God as her beer mug. History class did not prepare me for this day.

"Flynn?" Galahad asks, turning to look at me. "About time you showed up! I tried to keep order, but then Elizabeth pulled out the Grail, and things got out of hand."

"Aye, lass, she does tend to do that," Drake observes with a sigh, ignoring Galahad's indignant squawk at being called 'lass.' "Elizabeth! What did I tell you about using the Grail to throw parties?"

"Only on special occasions and national holidays!" she recites, before grinning wildly. "But I'm queen, so I just named today a national holiday!"

"Of course you did." Drake mutters. "Right, hand over the Grail. We need to test something."

She pouts, but does so.

"Good. What do you do with the Grails to make the singularities end, lad?" he asks, looking at me.

"We give them to Sir Galahad."

"Which one is he?"

I point to the still-fuming Knight of the Round Table behind us, which makes Sir Drake raise an eyebrow. "Galahad was a woman?"

"No." Galahad says in tones that are positively Antarctic, taking the Grail and slotting it into his shield. "I was not."

Drake blinks, then turns to me. "Long story?"

"Long story."

"Should it be doing something?" he asks, looking at the Grail still pulsing away in the shield.

"Yep. It should. I guess this isn't the Grail creating this Singularity." I sigh. "Back to the cabin to plan, then?"

"Aye." Drake observes, removing the Grail from Galahad's shield and tossing it over to Elizabeth. "You can come with, if you'd like, Galahad."

"You're not going to stop this?"

"No. Let them have their fun."

 

[Charles Flynn]

That night, as I lie on the deck of the ship, crewmen and Servants alike sleeping off their drink, I look up at the stars and wonder.

They're brighter out here, on the sea, brighter than I've ever seen them before. I didn't take the time to look at them, before, in Rome or France. I think I regret it a bit, now.

I trace out the constellations in my mind's eye. Here Ursa Major, there Ursa Minor, and Orion off a bit to the side, three stars still holding up his belt.

Is this what the sky looks like in the modern day, outside Chaldea? Did the wild and wondrous places of the world burn with the works of man?

Or, does life linger on, in the deep oceans, and untouched glens? Do bestial eyes stare up to the heavens, perhaps seeing those same stars we so lovingly named and set to order, vision without comprehension?

Will the world move on without us? Will, someday, another breed of beast learn to think and reason, to gaze upon the world and pick it apart, a label on every component? Will they marvel at what we left behind?

Or will cruel Father Time have erased our workings, that they may never know that they were not the first?

I look to the stars, and as I drift off, I feel so very small indeed.

---​

After arriving at the "pirate island" as Elizabeth so dramatically named it, or, as Drake called it, the 'island of thieves, butchers, and syphilis riddled whoremongers," we set about gathering information.

We needed to locate the other Servants in this Singularity, after all, and living legends tend to spawn rumors.

"The guy started screaming about lolis, and waifus, whatever the fuck those are," one particularly inebriated informant relates, clutching his mug like a lifeline. "Then, he gave us the old, join-me-or-die spiel, but when we brought out the kid we were escorting to Bermuda, he started screaming that... arcane gibberish even more, along with something about 'three Ds.'" He shudders, taking a drink to fortify himself before continuing. "I just don't understand! Why would he need more than two of the letter d in a row? Was he Welsh? That would explain the degeneracy, at least. And the tan."

"So, did you join his crew?" I ask, with a sinking feeling in my stomach. What the Hell kind of Servant is this unnamed pirate? Galahad looks equally disturbed besides me. "And did he give a name?"

"Ay, I joined. Jumped ship as soon as I could and wound up here, of course." the sailor notes. "As for a name, well, he called himself Blackbeard."

….

….


"What?"

"Blackbeard. Good name for a pirate, I suppose, even if he was a damn disgrace of one. Kept screaming gibberish and creeping on little girls."

I... I...

"Flynn?" Galahad says after I spend a minute just... staring in shock. "I know it's a letdown, but-"

I walk up to the bar and order myself the strongest drink they have in stock.

---​

"Right, we're all here, so let's pool what we learned," Drake says, looking around the taproom we rented as I stagger in, leaning on Galahad. It's just him, Elizabeth, and my Servants in here. Georgios, Xuanzang, and Tamamo weren't on the intel-gathering, so they aren't here. "Flynn, what took you so- Are you drunk?"

"Extremely so," Galahad observes, the elephants munching on his hair as he heaves me over onto a chair. Heh. That rhymes. "He took some of the revelations we uncovered... poorly."

"I'm almost afraid to ask." Drake mutters, looking at me in concern. I try to tell him that I'm fine, but it just comes out as a sort of garbly words of wordiness, so I try to pat him on the shoulder instead, which just turns into a very involved nod.

"We discovered that one of the Servants summoned to this Singularity is the legendary pirate Blackbeard."

"Really? I've never heard of him. What was he like?" Good Queen Liz asks, disco balls dangling from her pink hair.

"Supposedly, in the proper historical record, he was a legendary outlaw, who used fear tactics and portrayed himself as a fearsome, almost demonic figure in order to make ships surrender without a fight," Yan Qing speaks up, getting a surprised look from everyone else. "He purportedly hung lit fuses in his thick, black beard in order to terrify those who opposed him." He seems to notice the looks he's getting. "What? I like looking up other legendary outlaws."

"Yes, well, the Blackbeard described to us was absolutely nothing like his historical counterpart." Galahad notes. "But he might be more dangerous than he sounds. Did anyone else find rumors of Servants?"

Cursed Arm and Elizabeth both raise their hands. They then look at each other, and that's about when I pass out.

 

[Charles Flynn]

"Why do you do this to yourself, Master?" Xuanzang asks as she hands me a glass of water, which I gulp down greedily.

I wait for the pounding in my head to lessen before I reply. "Because sometimes, I just really, really want to hide from reality."

She gives me a disapproving look. "You really need to become less attached to your preconceptions of reality, my disciple. As the Buddha said, 'attachment is the root of all suffering.'"

"Yes, yes, Four Noble Truths, I know," I grumble. "So, where are we heading?"

I'm below decks on the Golden Hind, with Xuanzang keeping me company. Apparently she's been using her sutras to purify and disinfect the seawater, which has certainly made us a logistical miracle for Captain Drake. Not having to rely exclusively on alcohol for hydration (Elizabeth's Grail could hypothetically create fresh water, but she only ever makes alcohol) must be quite the relief.

"For an island not too far from here. Elizabeth and Hassan both turned up rumors of a group of strange pirates who operated out of there, and only struck at night. Drake decided to follow up on those, instead of looking for a needle in a haystack with Blackbeard."

"Fair enough." Alright. Time to freshen up, get out, and help.

---​

I wince as the sunlight stings my eyes, but persevere, and make my way out onto the deck.

"Flynn." Drake's tone is decidedly cool as he looks down at me from the helm. "Good to see you've recovered."

"My apologies for my unprofessional behavior, Captain Drake." I say, standing up straight and looking him in the eye. "It won't happen again."

He turns his critical gaze away with a snort. "Good."

I turn to follow his gaze and see Queen Elizabeth the First trimming the lines, side by side with the common deckhands.

Then, I make my way up the stairs to stand to the right of the helm, my hangover dogging my steps.

"I've been briefed on our destination." I inform him after standing beside him quietly for a few moments.

"I see." he doesn't turn his gaze back towards me, his eyes still fixed on the horizon as he follows his course. "Do you have any objections?"

"No. I do, however, wish to discuss possibilities."

"Very well."

"Have you encountered any fantastical, mythical creatures, during your time here?"

He's quiet for a few moments. "The island we stopped on before we met you had... some sort of jaguar creatures living on it. Great cats that walked like men."

"That confirms my suspicion. Previous Singularities have contained creatures out of legend. Wyverns, manticores, and the like. I suspect that the ability to attract long-vanished magical species is a characteristic of all Singularities."

"Seems reasonable." Drake comments, eyes not leaving the horizon.

"Thus, I believe that the strange raiders that only come at night may in fact be some breed of inhuman beast. There are many such creatures throughout mythology and folklore. Vampires, for instance, ar-"

"Is this urgent?" Drake interrupts. "Is this something I absolutely have to know this minute?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Then get the hell off my deck, Flynn. Unless you're going to grab a line and be useful, you're just wasting deck space." he orders, face stern. "I'll come down to talk you once I've finished my turn at the helm."

"Yessir." I suppose I could use some time to recover, and map out my theories a bit more.

 

[Charles Flynn]

We sit around the map table in Drake's cabin. It's just me, Galahad, Drake, and Elizabeth. We also called Roman in, and he's occupying the table's center in all his glowing, holographic glory.

"So. My first thought with regards to this mysterious pirate crew would be that they're vampires."

"Chaldea's scanning would have located any Dead Apostles quite easily." Roman interjects. "We actually initially justified its construction and cost by using it to locate them in the modern day, so-"

"Dead Apostles?" I interrupt. "And what do you mean 'in the modern day?'"

"Oh, right, I forgot you're a novice." Roman observes ruefully. "Basically, vampires are real, they work nothing like you think they do, and they come from the Moon."

"You're making that up."

"Nope." He grins.

"John told me much the same thing, during my initial lessons," Elizabeth offers, looking at me sympathetically. "I didn't believe him at first either."

"Right." I pinch the bridge of my nose, and start polishing my glasses. My one consolation is that Drake looks just as confused as I feel right now. "So, no vampires?"

"If they were here, they'd be spreading like the plague," Roman informs me. "Trust me. There are no vampires here."

"Right, so my second possibility would be trolls. In Norse Mythology, they turned into stone in sunlight, so raiding nocturnally would make sense for them."

"That's a possibility, I suppose." Drake notes. "of course, it's equally likely that they're ordinary humans who just take advantage of the night to take their enemies unawares. Just because the supernatural exists, doesn't mean that the mundane is impossible."

"All the same, when we raid their island, we should go in during the day, and we should go in hard and fast."

"A fair assessment, Flynn. As long as it's your Servants leading the charge, I see no issue with following your strategy." Drake rises, shaking his head. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to my bunk. I'd advise the rest of you to get some sleep as well."

He looks at us expectantly. When none of us move, he sighs, and slams his hand against the table. "That was a polite way of saying 'get out of my cabin.'"

We comply posthaste.

 

[Charles Flynn]

Out of my desire to avoid a repeat of what happened with Nero, I spend my time along the journey trying to get to know Queen Elizabeth.

---
​

Above us, the night sky spreads its infinite panoply of stars, heaven's countless eyes staring down at us in quiet judgement. The waves splash against the hull, and the ship creaks out the song of all old wood, as the winds carry the salt of the sea to our nostrils.​

"Anne Bonny and Mary Read, huh?" Elizabeth repeats, seemingly lost in her imaginations.

"Yeah. Some of the bravest buccaneers to ever sail beneath the black flag." Yan Qing confirms.

She asked us if we knew of any more future pirates, or of any halfway decent stories about pirates. I'm more than happy to oblige, of course, and so's Yan Qing.

"All right then, they sound interesting. Tell me about them," she commands us with a grin.

We're sitting out on the deck, a bottle of rum between us. I'm only here because I decided to invite myself to Yan Qing's nightly drinking bout with the Queen, but neither seems to mind. We're alone out here, with only the night watchman on his crow's nest and the night helmsman at the wheel for company. The rest of the crew (with the possible exception of my Servants, whose usually spend their downtime in astral form so as to not take up extra space) are belowdecks, either engaged in the gambling tournament that the officers pointedly don't acknowledge or fast asleep.

I exchange a look with Yan Qing, silently determining who holds precedence as tale-teller before we begin. Of course, we use the telepathic link to cheat, instead of holding a proper facial dialogue. At last, my position as starter of the tale is secured, and so I collect myself, absent-mindedly stroking the fox curled up in my lap, and begin.

"The first thing to be established should be that Ann Bonny and Mary Read were, or rather will be, pirates."

"Will be?" Elizabeth echoes with a skeptical eyebrow.

"They lived in the Seventeenth Century," Yan Qing offers in explanation. "Or... maybe the Sixteenth? I don't think I'll ever get a handle on you Westerners and your bizarre systems of time-keeping."

"1600s are the Seventeenth Century, Yan Qing." I offer in correction. "So, in any case, this hasn't happened yet. Won't happen in your lifetime."

"Are you allowed to tell me about this, then?" Elizabeth asks, looking worried. "You don't have to tell me anything if it'll mess with your history."

"It's fine," I assure her. "Memories vanish when a Singularity ends. As long as nothing too majorly dissimilar to the original timeline comes to pass during the Singularity, the human conception of history will repair itself."

"This is starting to sound like one of John's lessons again," she grouses, pulling out the Grail to top herself off. "Always full of strange words and ideas that leave me with a headache."

"Yes, well, my Master being a pedantic old man at heart aside," Yan Qing smoothly demurs, shooting a triumphant grin my way as he retakes the position of storyteller. "I suppose we should start with Anne Bonny. She was real firebrand and a rebel, who ran away from home and made no bones about her tendency to do as she pleased, with no regard to custom or censure."

He pauses for a drink, and I retake the lead. "She eventually ended up with a pirate captain by the name of Calico Jack Rackham, and took to the seas with him as her lover, serving on his crew as a pirate. While there, she befriended one of Calico Jack's crewmembers, one Mark Read."

Yan Qing interrupts. "Wait a second. I thought Mary went by James Kidd."

"No, that was only in..." I pause, and then round on him incredulously. "How the hell did you play Assassin's Creed Black Flag?"

"It was in the Game Room, and I was bored," Yan Qing mumbles.

"Chaldea has a Game Room? And Lev didn't blow it up?" I ask incredulously.

"Yeah. It's mostly empty these days too."

Huh. I'm going to have to check that out when I get back. Aaaaaaaaand Elizabeth's looking at us like we both just grew three heads and started rapping.

"Sorry, Your Majesty. Minor disagreement over sources." I offer up.

She arches an eyebrow. "Ah, so that's what all that gibberish in some of John's more obscure books sounds like in person."

"Yes. Scholarly debate can get a bit hard to decipher sometimes." I lie. "Anyways, Calico Jack got jealous over Anne's friendship with Mark Read, and ended up threatening Mark for making a move on his woman, but Mark defused the tension by revealing that he was, in fact, Mary Read."

Elizabeth snorts. "Wow Would never have seen that coming."

"Indeed." Yan Qing agrees, stealing back his spot as storyteller. "In any case, the two remained fast friends, and sailed with Calico Jack, supposedly both in a relationship with him," Elizabeth gasps at that. "I know, fairly scandalous, but pirates weren't much for propriety. Just doing what they wanted."

"I would never want something like that!" Elizabeth hotly contests, her face flushed in embarrassment at the prospect. "I mean, it just wouldn't be-"

"Even if it was you and two men?" Yan Qing interrupts mischievously. I shoot him a don't-get-me-involved-with-this glare.

"No!" She yelps, looking frankly disturbed at the thought. "That would be... ugh."

"If you're quite done?" I ask Yan Qing, who's looking a bit put out at how violently Elizabeth shot that down. "In any case, nothing lasts, forever, especially with regards to piracy, and eventually Calico jack's whole crew was captured by the Crown and put on trial. Calico Jack was executed, but Mary and Anne both staved off execution by claiming they were pregnant."

Elizabeth looks crestfallen at that. "Did they escape?"

"Anne did. Mary died of the poor conditions." I sigh. "Anne mostly vanishes from the historical record after that."

"So... they were only free for a little bit." Elizabeth comments, looking down at the deck. "I think I'll turn in. I don't feel like drinking anymore."

She gets up and heads off to the cabin she's bunking in, one of the tiny officers' cabins, leaving Yan Qing and I staring up at the skies.

After a few minutes, Yan Qing breaks the silence. "Did you have to tell her how it ended?"

"The difference between a happy ending and a tragic one is in where you end the story." I think I'm misquoting somebody there, but damned if I know who. "Real life... it only ever really ends once. You just keep going until you stop, and the stopping is called tragic. She asked me about Anne Bonny and Mary Read. Real people. I suppose that I could have fudged the details a bit, but in all honesty, that would just have felt like I was spitting on their graves."

"So you'd tell her a tragedy even if it wasn't what she wanted to hear?" Yan Qing asks, slumping back against the deck railing.

"I suppose." I reply neutrall, my hand absentmindedly scratching the warm bundle of fluff curled up on my lap. "She asked me to tell me about two real people, Yan. If I'm to tell the stories of the departed, I'll do it as accurately as I can, and to the best of my abilities, leaving no detail or flaw out. And someday, maybe, somebody will do the same for me."

He laughs, the sound rupturing the silence. "You're a serious one, aren't you, Master?"

"I have been so called, yes."

"I think I can respect that." He says, rising to his feet. "Get some rest, willya? You still need to sleep, after all." He dissolves into Astral Form, leaving the bottle behind.

I grab it and head down belowdecks to sleep.

 

[Charles Flynn]

The Island of the Night Pirates, as Elizabeth called it, quite honestly looked exactly how you'd expect an island populated by nocturnal raiders to look. Great gnarled trees sank their roots beneath the water, and rose to cast the shoreline into shadow beneath their thick canopies. Beyond, the forest continued, the thick canopy casting the forest floor into an impenetrable gloom.

"Looks like arriving during the day won't give us as much of an advantage as we thought." Drake notes, staring at the shore. The forest more closely resembles a cave than any natural environment.

"True. We still can't retreat, though. They know we're here, now. If we leave, they'll follow."

"Send in scouts." Drake orders, looking at me. "I'm not sending my men in there without an idea of what's waiting for us."

I nod. 'Cursed Arm, Yan Qing, deploy. Scout out the area under Presence Concealment.'

I get two confirmations.

"They've deployed. They'll give me their reports through our mental link."

"Fair enough. We can only wait so long, though." Drake points to the sun, which hangs brightly in the sky, about an hour away from noon. "Three hours. They'd better give us something to work with by then."

"Yessir."

---​

They only needed two.

"Okay. The report is in." I announce as I enter Drake's Cabin, where he and Elizabeth sit around the Map Table. "Looks like my guess is right. It's trolls."

Drake sighs, and I give him my best sympathetic look. "Nothing's normal anymore, is it?"

"Hey, who knows? Maybe next time it'll be a bunch of regular pirates." I offer consolingly. My sympathy only earns me a dry look from him, and a gesture for me to continue. "The trolls are being led by a Servant, a Berserker called King Erik Bloodaxe, and there are about twenty of them, at least two of which are skilled in witchcraft."

"If it was just my crew, could we win?" Drake asks. "Discounting Servant intervention."

"Elizabeth could probably fight King Erik on even footing if she integrated the Holy Grail into her body, but you'd be looking at a pyrrhic victory at best." I tell him matter-of-factly. "The trolls are all bigger and stronger than humans, and it would take a few shots from a cannon to properly bring them down. Small arms fire won't do shit. Further, you don't have any magical assets beyond Elizabeth, so you couldn't counter their Casters. Beyond that, they have the advantage of fighting defensively on their home turf, and they can see in the dark far better than any human."

Now that gets a grimace. "All right." He turns to Elizabeth, who's looking slightly pale at my analysis of how utterly boned they would be. "Can you do what he said? Integrate the Grail into your body?"

"Of course." she assures him, refocusing on the present. "I already did it, remember? On that island with all the jaguar people, to fight that crazy lady in the cat suit?"

He nods. "Okay. How would you go about leveraging your Servants?"

I grin, and then begin to explain my strategy. "Well, for starters we set the forest on fire."

 

[Charles Flynn]

Of course, things went horribly wrong almost immediately.

'What do you mean the trees won't burn?' I send frantically.

'It rained last night and the wood's still thoroughly hydrated. Right now, the forest's about as flammable as asbestos.' Yan sends back, his irritation quite thoroughly evident.

'Dammit. Hold on for a change in orders.' I turn to Drake. "We have a problem. The trees won't ignite. We'll need to revise our strategy."

"Damn." he growls. "We only have four hours until sundown, Flynn, figure something out!"

Right, right. 'Yan Qing? Can you punch the trees hard enough to make them go away?'

'I guess?'

'Right. Do that.' I command. 'Cursed Arm, it's your job to track down and kill escapees. No survivors.' We do not need any trolls doubling back to follow us.

"All right." I say to Drake. "I managed to work out a substitute. We're good to go."

The plan is fundamentally simple. The Assassins destroy their escape route behind them, while a spearhead of Servants presses in to crush them. Left with only the options of death by sunlight or death by Servant, the enemy will be completely exterminated.

But first...

'Georgios, you are free to give them the chance to surrender.'

'Thank you for letting me do this, Master.' he sends back, already entering the outskirts of the troll encampment's perimeter.

I don't honestly have much hope of a peaceful solution. But still, you never know.

'Bloodaxe refused on their behalf.' Georgios sends back after a few minutes. 'Backup would be greatly appreciated, he's a formiddable opponent.'

'It's on its way,' I send back, before switching to a general broadcast. 'All Servants, commence operation.'

I turn to Drake. "We're starting." He nods, and then starts barking orders to his crew.

Vlad, Xuanzangf and Tamamo lead the charge, clearing a sunlit corridor through the forest by toppling every tree in their way. In the distance, I see more trees begin to topple as Yan Qing starts his own foray into the exciting world of clear-cutting.

"All right! Follow them!" Drake bellows, and his men charge in after my Servants, Elizabeth leading the charge. He follows after, leaving me to guard the ship with only a skeleton crew and Galahad for company.

"You know, you just sent them off to risk their lives, while you stay behind," Galahad observes.

"Is there a point to this?"

"Just making sure you're aware of your cowardice." he says with a grin.

"I'm sure that all you bold, shiny knights probably don't remember this, what with all the brain damage from honorably bashing each other over the head and all that, but us squishy normal people without oodles of combat training and superhuman durability have what we like to call 'a sense of self-preservation' and 'common sense.'" I shoot back. "And I'm sorry if they disagree with your knightly sensibilities."

"Oh!" Galahad replies, clapping his hands together with a thoroughly feigned expression of joy. "So that's what this modern 'chain of command' thing I keep hearing about is! Truly, you're just so very much more advanced than us uncivilized barbarians! Really, we're just so backwards, what with our commanders going out and fighting on the front lines, instead of just sitting back and sending in the, what did you call them again? Ah, yes, the 'cannon fodder' to fight and die for them! Truly, you absolute paragons of egalitarianism and efficiency are the gold standard to emulate, here."

"Oh, wow," I shoot back, legitimately irritated. "Such a rousing defense of the masses, from a feudal lord. Tell me, how are those serfs of yours-"

"Will you two SHUT THE FUCK UP?" one of the remaining crewmembers shouts at us.

Both Galahad and I take a step back from our previous position of shouting at each others faces and awkwardly turn away from each other.

"How's the battle going?" he asks after a few minute's silence.

"Well enough. Assassin's line of deforestation is nearly complete. Hassan's already picked off five stragglers. The frontal assault is already nearing the enemy camp."

"So, things are going... according to plan."

"I'm as braced for the imminent catastrophe as you are."

---​

In the end, the thing we didn't see coming was the troll warrens beneath the forest.

"So they've all retreated?" I ask Drake.

"Aye. Bloodaxe fell, but we can't follow them in. They're too well entrenched, we've only got an hour before nightfall."

"Anything useful recovered?" I ask, desperate for this to not have been a wash.

"A few nautical charts, with a destination clearly marked."

"Well, at least we have a new heading, then." I mutter. "We destroy all their ships and take off. Sound good, Sir?"

"Aye."

The troll ships, low-slung canoes that most closely resemble hollowed-out trees, are all destroyed, and we set off as the sun begins to set, chasing after an unknown lead.

And as we sail, I pray to God that leaving those trolls alive won't come back to bite us somehow.

 

[Charles Flynn]

"This is it?" I ask Drake, looking out over the unnamed island that the charts guided us to.

"Aye," Elizabeth says for him, looking overjoyed as she surveys the place, a green, grass-coated and lush little isle whose greenery browns and fades away as it approaches the island's heart, and the ornate stone entrance that we can see even from the ship. "An island of adventure."

"Or of a variety of unpleasant tropical diseases that will lead to you dying in horrific agony," Drake counters, looking over the little insula with suspicion. "I don't like the looks of this place. And especially not of that door."

"Do you just hate fun?" Elizabeth asks, pouting at him.

"Of course. Fun is how they lull you into complacency so they can shanghai you into the navy." Drake replies, still stonefaced.

"Oh come on, Francis, let it go! Live a little!" Elizabeth replies, throwing an arm over his shoulder. "I mean, when was the last time you just cut loose and enjoyed yourself?"

"Around twenty years ago." he replies, his face giving off impression of a cliff.

"And what did it cost you?"

"I'm still in the navy."

Elizabeth pouts and storms off, leaving me and Drake alone at the helm.

"So. What's your assessment, Master of Chaldea?" he asks, turning to where I stood, and jolting me out of my spectatorship.

"It's obviously a trap. At the same time, though, it's just about our only lead." I sigh. "I'll have to take some precautions."

"What do you have in mind?"

"I might swap out one of my Servants for one more skilled in underground exploration. And I'm definitely having Xuanzang put a Bounded Field over the Golden Hind."

"Sensible." He stares at the island for a bit longer. "Elizabeth wants to go with you."

"Seems in-character for her." I note, already having an inkling of where this is going.

"If she dies on your watch, I will make what little time is left before history collapses an unending Hell for you, am I clear?" he asks, shooting me a glare that leaves me thoroughly convinced of his sincerity.

"Crystal."

---​

Leaving Xuanzang and Vlad on the Hind to guard our escape route, our intrepid band sets out. It's me, Elizabeth, Galahad, both Assassins, Georgios, and Tamamo,

Along the way, however, I have Galahad set up a Summoning Circle, and we use the link to Chaldea to exchange Servants. Tamamo temporarily returns to Chaldea (and I have to repeatedly reassure her that I wasn't mad at her or disappointed with her in any way and that I'd call her back to my side as soon as possible) and in her place I call in Asterios. I haven't spent much time with him in the past, but I think he's just happy to be of some help.

And so, we move on into the obvious trap.

---​

"This... feels... familiar..." Asterios says as we step into the cave, his voice a gentle rumble.

"How so?" I ask. Both Assassins are using their Presence Concealment in order to gain the advantage of surprise, leaving Elizabeth and me flanked by Georgios and Galahad, with Asterios taking point.

This place... it feels... cramped. I'm not a claustrophobe, but this feels like the kind of place that could make one of me. The dim, unlit corridors are all uniform, perfectly rectangular, and just a few inches wider and broader, enough that Asterios can comfortably walk through them. The borders of the floor and the walls are decorated ornately in the Minoan style, a repeating motif of interlocking, blocky spirals.

"It feels... like... Labyrinth." the huge Berserker replies.

"Damn." All right, time to think. "Can it be safely navigated by anyone other than you?" 'Cursed Arm. Yan Qing. Break off scouting operations and return to our side at once.'

"No." he answers, a verdict that my two Assassins' increasing confusion at their inability to find their way back seems to support.

"How does this place work, then?" I ask. It's starting to sound like this particular maze might work like its Percy Jackson incarnation, and that would be... worrying.

"Most mazes... two dimensions," Asterios begins, his brusqueness refreshing. "Some... three. Labyrinth... six."

"How the hell does that work?" Elizabeth snaps, beginning to look panicked.

Asterios shrugs. "Ask... Daedalus. I just... lived here."

"Right, then." I call. "Since we're not in Greece, or at least I think we're not in Greece, the Labyrinth's presence probably means that another version of you got summoned here."

Asterios nods. "I will... lead... to him."

---​

Asterios' navigation is... somewhat confusing, in all honesty. Sometimes he has us double back the way we came, other times to wait for seemingly random amounts of time in order to proceed, and once or twice he made us follow him as he scaled a wall.

But, all the same, it worked. We finally emerge into a broad chamber, and at the chamber's heart... stands another Asterios.

The two Berserkers stare at each other for a moment.

"Who... are you?" Labyrinth Asterios grunts.

"Asterios," My Asterios also grunts, and oh, god, the entire conversation is going to go at this exact pace, isn't it? Fuck.

"I am… also Asterios." Labyrinth Asterios replies. "Have you come... to hurt... Euryale?"

My Asterios shakes his head. "No... I come... because Master... asked me to."

"And does he... want... to hurt her?" Labyrinth Asterios asks, with a slow, protective intensity.

Wait… Euryale? The other Gorgon sister? Are she and Labyrinth Asterios a thing? That's weird, but... oh shit I had Vlad kill her sister.

"No," My Asterios replies, completely ignorant of my inner panic. "He is harsh... but he is not cruel. He is... a good person. Although... he was busy.... and could not afford... any trouble... he never... treated me... like the Minotaur." Asterios grins, and I feel like he just punched me in the gut. "He was... kind to me." Asterios, please, I can only handle so much guilt. "He always... called me Asterios… and he even... let me see... the sun."

So this is what being lower than pond scum feels like. Galahad, for his part, is giving me a smug look, and I have to tamp down the overwhelming urge to punch him in the face.

"And why... is he here?" Labyrinth Asterios asks, his face softening.

"To end... the Singularity... and save... the world."

"Asterios," a young voice calls out, and both versions of Pasiphae's son turn to look at the speaker. "I think we can trust them."

She looks just like Stheno, with purple hair and a slender, childish frame. And, apparently she's unaware of the fact that I called her sister a child prostitute to her face before having her tortured and killed, something for which I can only thank my lucky stars.

"Cease your ogling, worm," the goddess Euryale commands, glaring at me imperiously.

"Apologies, milady," I reply, looking away. Really hoping that 'milady' is a sufficiently deferential title for a goddess. "You greatly resemble your sister. The sight brought back painful memories."

"You've encountered Stheno?" Euryale asks, her interest piqued. "Where? How was she?"

"It was in the previous Singularity, milady. She was killed by the Emperor Tiberius."

Euryale looks crestfallen at that, before composing herself. "Well, it's to be expected, after all. We're Servants. Life is short and brief for the likes of us."

"Wise words, milady. If you would join us, we have a ship waiting in the harbor."

She pauses. and then nods. "Just know that if you try anything, Asterios will rip you to shreds."

"Wouldn't dream of it, milady."

 

[Charles Flynn]

"Thank you for the work you did, buddy." I say as we prepare to swap out Asterios with Tamamo.

"It was... my... pleasure." Asterios rumbles, nodding along as he steps onto the shield. Not a single complaint about being sidelined.

"Yeah." I say, tamping down the surge of guilt rising up in my gut. When I get back to Chaldea, he's off the monitoring list. And I'm getting him a fruit basket or... something. I'll work out the details later.

Asterios vanishes in a column of light, and Tamamo take his place.

"Master! Master! Are you all right? Did everything go fine? I was worried something might happen while I was gone!" she asks in a rush, bowling me over and checking me frantically.

"I'm fine, Tamamo," I groan from beneath her. "Or at least I was before you tackled me."

She flushes and helps me up, babbling apologies.

"As for what happened, we met another Asterios, and the goddess Euryale." I tell her, then sigh at her blank expression. "The sister of Medusa and Stheno."

She frowns. "Wait, didn't you-"

I slap a hand over her mouth before she can say anything. 'If Euryale asks, Stheno was killed by the Emperor Tiberius. NOT ME.'

"Right!" she agrees cheerfully, although her smile seems a little forced. "I'll remember that!"

As she goes off, Galahad snorts at my side.

'Do you really think that your deception will hold?'

'No, but I pray that it will.'

And then I sigh, and start off towards the Hind.

---​

"So this is the ship that will take us on our way," Euryale mutters. "Very well. I suppose it's adequate."

Drake raises an eyebrow at me as I join him at the helm. "And the little girl is..."

"The Gorgon Euryale." I say in reply, slightly relishing how his eyes bug out and he frantically looks back at the goddess walking about on the deck.

"But she's..." he looks absolutely gobsmacked.

"I'm fairly sure that she has some sort of divine glamour up, an illusion." I inform him. "Of course, I might be wrong who knows?"

"But…" Drake still looks stunned. "That's... Athena cursed her and her sisters because Medusa was raped in her temple, are you telling me that Euryale was a child when that happened?"

"No, I'm increasingly sure that Ovid just made that part up because he was an absolute cauldron of bubbling resentment over his banishment. I think that the original origin ascribed to them, monstrous children of Ceto and siblings of Echidna, is more accurate." I reply, noting that Euryale seems to have caught the tail-end of our conversation and is heading up towards us.

"Close, but not quite, Master of Chaldea," Euryale replies somewhat smugly. She's using Asterios' shoulder as a booster chair so she can talk to us from the deck below. "My sisters and I were unlike the other gods. We were born of the desires of men, immortal and flawless, worshipped by all. The gods grew jealous of this, particularly Athena, jealous shrew that she was, and so when our ugly little sister Medusa was born, Athena took the chance to turn the people against us, forcing us onto the Shapeless Isle and sending heroes after us to slay us. Meduseless defended us, as is only proper, but eventually she decided that the best way to keep us safe was to eat us."

Drake raises an eyebrow. "Interesting defensive strategy."

"To be fair, she wasn't entirely sane at the time," Euryale says. "And, after she died, we emerged from her stomach safe and sound, with the entire world thinking us dead. No one bothered us again until we had faded from the world, so I suppose she was good for something in the end."

I decide to keep my doubts about her reliability as a narrator to myself, and besides me, Drake seems to do the same.

"Well," Drake says after a moment, "Don't cause trouble and do your part, and we'll get along fine. Clear?"

"Very much so." Euryale agrees, preening. "I have no doubt that my peerless beauty will inspire your crew to new heights."

Oh, God. Drake and I exchange an uncomfortable glance, before I nut up and deliver the bad news. "Um... Euryale, I hate to tell you this, but.... Societal standards of beauty have changed a great deal since Ancient Greece."

"What?" Euryale snaps, her eyebrow arched in confusion. "But I have all the standards of beauty! Smooth skin, a slender, childlike frame..."

"That's kind of the problem actually."

"Explain."

"You look like a child, and my sincerest apologies for stating that, but it's the truth, and in modern society, the idea of having a relationship with someone that young is... frowned upon." Drake coughs, and I elaborate. "Severely. As in, it might be illegal, and people definitely look down on anyone who'd do that."

Euryale falls silent, before saying, in a slightly shaky tone. "I... believe I need to sit down for a spell. Asterios, take me belowdecks."

That… really went about as well as it could have.

Suddenly, the lookout calls down from the crow's nest, "Ship off to starboard! It flies the black flag!"

Drake whip out his spyglass, and turn to look at it as...

Oh. Jesus God Almighty.

The formerly French man o'war sails towards us at a steady pace, its sails full on the wind. It's bigger and broader than the Hind, and flies a black flag, although I can't make out the details. And it's swarming with pirates.

"Is that... Blackbeard's?" Drake mutters, his voice thick with dread. "You didn't tell me he had a man o'war."

"Probably should have mentioned that, aye."

"How many men? How many guns?"

"Up to three hundred in crew, and forty cannons." I mutter. "And she's a Noble Phantasm, while the Hind isn't, so our cannons might not be able to damage her."

"That's... not promising." Drake observes.

From the dread ship, a voice thunders, a man, his face lit by the fuses dangling from his broad tricorne hat, standing at the helm of the great beast of a ship and bellowing, "GIVES US YOUR LOLIS OR YOUR LIVES!"

I am way too sober for this.

 

[Charles Flynn]

"Drake, can we go any faster?" I shout as I cower behind Galahad. A bullet pings off his shield as the enemy sniper takes yet another shot at me.

"No!" the good captain snaps, as yet another volley of cannon slams into the Hind. "They're shredding us!"

"Son of a-" a splintered shard of wood from the planking embeds itself right next to my foot. "Right. We need to get away!"

"We can't! The ship's been damaged so badly, we're losing speed!" Drake snaps. "And we've already lost an eighth of our crew!"

"Francis! They're three hundred yards out!" Elizabeth warns, firing at our pursuers over the stern with her Grail-empowered pistols before ducking back down.

"Shit!" he growls, before looking straight at me. "Flynn, time for a Hail Mary. If your Servants can do something, now's the time!"

Let me think, who'd be best suited to... oh. That works. 'Xuanzang, can you make a storm between us and the enemy?'

'Yes!'

'Then start chanting.' I turn to Drake. "Brace for a storm!"

"The Hell are you talking about? The sky's clear!" As he says that, Xuanzang's voice rings out, and black clouds begin to swirl above our heads. "This your doing?"

"Yes!"

"This could kill us!" he bellows, eyes wide. "The Hind's damaged, she can't take a squall!"

"Compared to having to live knowing you lost to that," I point at Blackbeard, who's still babbling in leetspeak. "is death really that bad an option?"

"Fair enough. All hands brace for a squall!"

The winds start up, lashing the waves, as, with a flash of thunder, the skies begin to weep.

God, I hope this works.

---​

"On the bright side, we're alive and free," I offer up in consolation.

"You! Crashed! MY! SHIP!" Drake roars, his hands squeezing tighter around my throat.

"We…. can... fix... it..." I choke out, and that prompts Drake to release me.

"How?" he asks, his anger now held in check.

The Golden Hind rests on her side, masts snapped like twigs and the starboard side of its hull, which it landed on, caved in like an eggshell. Drake and I were both tossed clear when she crashed on shore, and landed fairly close to each other.

"Servants, remember?" I offer up. "some of the Casters have the Item Creation skill. We can rebuild the Hind to stand toe to toe with the Revenge and win."

He looks about. "I'm not seeing any of your Servants here, Flynn."

"Well, we only just washed up. They probably did, too. Let's look around before we jump to any hasty conclusions."

"At least half my crew is dead or overboard, Flynn. Whatever you come up with, it had better be good."

As we make our way back to the ship, a massive hand punches through the upwards-facing port side of the hull, and Asterios pulls himself through, Euryale clinging to his back.

"What on Earth happened, Master of Chaldea?" she snaps as she sees me.

"We were attacked by the pirate Blackbeard after you headed belowdecks, and had to take desperate measures to escape." I summarize.

"So he is still after me," she murmurs. Wait, what? She knew?

"Yes," Drake growls. "Which would have been nice to know before we took you aboard."

"I have a right to my privacy, Captain," she replies with a dainty sniff. "And beyond that, it is far from the place of mortals to question a goddess such as myself."

Drake pulls a gun on her, and Asterios steps protectively between them. "I just lost my ship, my crew, and my queen because we took you aboard, young lady. I do not have time for your shit."

"Francis!" somebody shouts, and suddenly Drake is on the ground, tackled by an overjoyed Queen Elizabeth. "Oh, thank God you're alive!"

She looks considerably worse for the wear. Her hair is thick with seawater, as are her clothes, and I don't think I've ever seen a woman look more thoroughly exhausted. Galahad follows her, looking equally pained.

"Flynn." he says with a nod, which I return.

"The other Servants?"

"We have survived, my Master," Cursed Arm announces, and I jump as he de-astralizes behind me. "Although some of us may be delayed for some time."

"Right," I say, and my plans begin to unfold in my mind. "Alright. We need to rally, swap out a Servant or two, and repair the Hind. Cursed Arm, you're on Search and Rescue. Find the other Servants, and the sailors scattered in the storm, and bring them back here. Galahad, you're with me."

I get two nods in return, and then I send off a mental message to all my Servants. 'All surviving Servants, sound off.'

'Georgios here. My armor dragged me down, it'll take a while to get back to you, even in Astral Form.'

'Solid work, Georgios, I await your return.'

Vlad gives me much the same report, and the other Servants give me essentially identical messages: alive, returning to you.

But Yan Qing, on the other hand...

'Yan Qing. I got fished out of the water by Blackbeard's crew.'

'Are you alright?'

'They haven't figured out I'm a Servant thanks to my Presence Concealment. They just think I'm one of Drake's sailors, and they basically pressganged me.'

'Stay where you are, keep up your cover, and gather intel. I'll expect a report in twelve hours.'

I turn to Drake, who's disentangled himself from Elizabeth's relieved grasp. "Good news. All Servants are accounted for, and we've got a man on the inside of Blackbeard's crew."

"Good. So. What the next stage in your plan?"

"I wait until a few more servants get here, and then I summon up our shipwright." I pause. "Hey, Roman?"

"Yes?" the good doctor answers, as his holographic form flares into life.

"Prep Medea for transfer."

 

[Charles Flynn]

"So. This is goodbye for now?" Xuanzang asks as she steps onto Galahad's shield, looking me in the eye.

"Only for now," I reassure her, as the light start up. "We couldn't have made it this far without you, Xuanzang. Thank you."

"Okay!" she cheers. "I'll do my very best to support you up in Chaldea! And if you need me-"

"I won't hesitate to call you back in." She smiles, as the light springs up and bears her away.

The Caster who replaces her, however, is of a far more dour disposition.

"Medea. Welcome aboard." I say in greeting. "Are you fit to begin duty?"

She raises an eyebrow. "Certainly, my Master. And, what, pray tell, would this duty be?"

"Roman may not have seen fit to inform you, but the Golden Hind has crashed, and is currently heavily damaged." I point to the ship in question, still lying on her collapsed side and creaking in a deep, pained voice that makes my heart contract with worry. "We need to repair her, and to upgrade her to the point where she can engage a Noble Phantasm and win."

"And you came to me? The Witch of Betrayal?" she asks, her voice a throaty purr as she arches her eyebrow at me. "Such trust can be... fatally misguided."

"Mm. Well, you're the closest thing to a shipwright we've got, and it's not like humanity's going to be any more doomed than it already is if you decide to screw us over for some reason." I turn my back to her as I fully face the Hind. A test of her loyalty, or at least the thickness of her skin.

She laughs. "You're an honest one, aren't you?"

"Far from it. But I don't see much point in lying to you." I nod at the ship. "So. Can you do it?"

"Perhaps." She moves to stand beside me, her eyes sweeping over the Hind in all her broken glory. "How many do we have in crew, and what materials can you offer me?"

"We've managed to rescue and recover thirty-nine of Drake's men." I inform her. "We're still searching, but... well, our success rate at finding them alive is dropping." Drake took every man found with the joy and relief of a father greeting his prodigal son, and every body that washed up on the shore like a bereaved parent. He's still keeping up his stern mien, but anyone who knows him can see how hard he's taking it. Elizabeth hasn't left his side since they reunited. "As for materials, well..." I wave at the forest that starts about sixty feet from the shore. "I've also received reports of wyverns in the area."

"I can do this, then." Medea assures me. "Within three days."

"Impressive."

"I will set up my territory, and summon my dragon tooth warriors to carry out the construction, but I will require your assistance to gather supplies, particularly the bodies of the wyverns."

"Very well, Princess Medea. I'll rally the troops, and we'll work to fulfill your requests."

She smirks, her eyes, hidden beneath her hood.

Drake's at the firepit we set up, Elizabeth at his side, still staring at the wreck of the Hind. His hands dance as he cleans his set of pistols, for perhaps the seventeenth time since the day began. He turns to me as I approach, eyes dark pits over purple bags, demanding attention, even if not quite the same absolute respect and authority as before.

"Flynn. Another survivor, or another body?"

"Neither, Captain. We summoned our shipwright. She thinks she can fix the Hind in three days, if we can get her the right supplies."

"'She?'" Francis repeats, an eyebrow raised. "I know of few legendary shipwrights, none of which were women. Who is she?"

Right, time for the hard part. "Medea of Colchis."

Elizabeth recognizes the name before Drake. "But she-"

"I know. Killed her children, tricked her host's daughters to make them kill their father, and murdered her own brother, not in that order." I rattle off. "But she's a top-rate Caster, and a pretty good jack-of-all-trades as far as spellcasting is concerned. Beyond that, she hasn't given me cause to mistrust her thus far, and has been vital to Chaldea's successes. Without her aid, we would most likely not be standing here today."

"So you're saying she can be trusted?" Drake asks, his eyes searching. "With the repair of the Hind? With the lives of my crew?"

I sigh. I never thought I would say this, and I hope to God on high that I won't come to regret it, but, in response to that, what else can I say? "Yes. She's given me no reason to doubt her, so I can only say we should trust her."

Some deep inside me is screaming that this is a mistake and trusting the murderous psychopath will only end in tragedy, but I take a deep breath, and silence my paranoia.

"All right then." Drake says, standing up. "You've convinced me. What does she need?"

"Lumber and wyverns."

"The first is manageable. The second..."

"My team can handle that."

"Well." He looks me dead in the eye, and then claps me on the shoulder. "Let's get to it, then."

 

[Charles Flynn]

Two days, and the Hind's repairs are going well.

"Twenty-seven wyverns," I note, looking at the hunting party's catch. "Impressive."

"Thank you, Master," Georgios says, a serene smile on his face. "I'm happy to be of help. We've killed a great many wyverns, these past few days. We should be on guard. The dragon that spawned them is likely to take notice."

"What?" I ask, eyes wide.

"You didn't know?" Georgios asks, eyebrow raised. "Wyverns are the larval stage of dragons. Dragons birth wyverns, which then, after consuming enough time and mana, grow to become dragons themselves. It's quite fascinating, really."

"There's a dragon here?" I yelp.

"It's the only viable explanation for the number of wyverns," Georgios notes clinically.

"You can take it, right?"

"Most likely, yes."

"All right then." I turn to go and talk to Medea about today's haul, when an arrow whistles past my ear.

"So you're the one behind these trespassers," a women's voice rings out, as Georgios, and Cursed Arm all scramble to locate the shooter. "Count yourself lucky, mortal. If I had not been reunited with my beloved recently, I would have turned you all to deer and fed you to my hounds for hunting without making offerings to me. As it stands, however, I shall permit you to live, and perhaps even grant you aid upon your journey, in exchange for you performing a single, simple task."

I clear my throat uncomfortably, looking at the quivering arrow embedded in the ground behind me. "Ah- I suppose we do have an opening in our schedules." I have a bad feeling about who this is.

"Very well. Then, I, Artemis, Goddess of the Hunt, charge you to find my dearest Orion and bring him to me." Yep. And, wait, Orion? Huh. Guess things weren't as platonic between those two as I thought they were.

"As you would have it, Lady Artemis. May I ask that you describe him, so that we may know him on sight?"

"Oh! Sure thing!" the goddess agrees, her voice taking on a distinctly more bubbly tone. "My darling's normally so big and muscly and handsome, even if his eye wanders a bit too freely, but right now, he's really small, and looks like a bear, but it's like, a really cute bear, and he's just so soft, and huggable, and eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeehh!"

Wait, why is she talking like that? I feel my stomach drop slightly. "So, like a teddy bear."

"Yes!" she agrees from up in the tree line. "I thought it was just the cutest thing ever, so I turned him into one when I hijacked his summon! That way, it's impossible for him to cheat on me!"

Oh God no.

"Ah, and when we find him, how should we return him to you, milady?" I ask, trying to tamp down my growing horror.

"Oh! I'll search with you!" she calls out, dropping from the treeline.

She's... oh God. Busty, silvery-blond, and dressed in an absurdly revealing dress. I wanna go home. But no, home is on fire, and it's not going to stop being on fire until I man up and fix it.

So I put on a straight face and invite her back to our camp so we can better plan our search. Georgios looks just as completely flabbergasted as me, while Cursed Arm just seems amused at our reactions.

On the subject of Servants... 'Attention all Servants. I have agreed, under slight duress, to help the goddess Artemis find her perverted teddy bear boyfriend.' What the hell has my life become?

After an uncomfortable silence, Vlad tentatively sends back, 'Master? Are you all right?'

'I feel like I just died a little on the inside, but other than that, I'm fine.'

'I might have found your target.' Medea sends, her mental voice carrying an undercurrent of laughter. 'He tried his luck on Queen Elizabeth.'

'Oh god. Is he alive? If he's dead, Artemis will literally kill me, Medea.'

'Alive, humiliated, and restrained. Drake shot him, and he's currently tied up with his wounds bandaged.'

All right, then. "Lady Artemis, excellent news. My Servants in the camp already found him."

She squeals in a pitch that no human mouth should ever reach, and I quietly resign myself to this living hell.

"Oy! Flynn!" Elizabeth calls as she comes greet us, a bottle of some sort of grog in her hand. "Do you know what that creature who tried to jump on my chest was?"

I steal her bottle.

 

[Charles Flynn]

The rebuilt Golden Hind slides into the water, and a chorus of cheers rings out.

Medea designed the hull with two layers, and inner layer of wooden planking, and an outer layer of wyvern bone, both enchanted so that they would repair and heal like the skin of a living creature, neatly dodging the absolute nightmare that repairing it would become. The entire ship was retrofitted, sleek and powerful, and with an overwhelming power and grace that showed in its every line.

"The entire ship now functions as a Mystic Code," Medea notes as Drake inspects his new ship, the tour wrapping up as we ascend to the helm. "Not precisely as strong as a Noble Phantasm like Blackbeard's, but it's in the neighborhood."

Elizabeth walks at Drake's side, and I follow three paces behind them.

"Thank you," Drake says, his voice soft as he runs his disbelieving hands over the polished wood of the steering wheel. "You gave me my ship back."

Medea actually pauses at that, looking slightly surprised, before she recovers. "It was nothing, really. My Master commanded me, and I simply followed orders."

"All the same, if you ever need anything, ask."

Elizabeth grins. at his side, and I pick up the cue. "So, Captain Drake, I'd say this calls for a celebration."

"Fine." He grunts, his mouth twitching ever so-slightly upwards. "I suppose, if I must."

"I'll take my leave, then," Medea says softly, only to blink in confusion as both Queen and Captain turn to look at her.

"Why?" Elizabeth asks, looking honestly confused.

"So I don't interfere with your crew's merriment, or stay where I'm not wanted."

Elizabeth throws an arm over her shoulder and steers her towards the cask of grog. "You saved the Hind, Caster. That makes you one of us!"

And so, Colchis' wayward princess is lead off, mumbling half-hearted protests as Good Queen Liz drags her off to the party. Drake and I watch them go from back on the deck.

"I suppose you made a solid choice with that one," he notes, still running his hands absently over the wheel.

"I suppose so."

"What's your man on the inside been telling you?" Drake asks after a few minutes of silence.

"Assassin says that while Blackbeard plays the part of the incorrigible pervert, and acts like his only goal thus far has been to secure Euryale for... unsavory purposes, he also never leaves an opening for himself to be backstabbed, and is always armed." I list off.

"Does he have other Servants on that ship of his?"

"Three. Anne Bonny and Mary Read, who are apparently a package deal, and Hector of Troy."

"Don't know the first two, but Hector?" Drake winces. "He could be a problem."

"I am well aware."

In the party on the beach, some of my Servants are actually getting into the swing of things, although Artemis, Euryale, and Asterios are holding themselves aloof.

"Senpai!" Gal- no, wait, that's Mash, how'd that happen? calls as she navigates her way up the makeshift dock. "Are you going to join us?"

"What happened to Galahad?" I ask, brows furrowed. Did he quit? Did Mash's body overheat and require cooldown time?

She shrinks a little. "Oh. He decided that since things were pretty peaceful right now, that he could hand over the body to me, so I could see what things were like outside of Chaldea!"

He-

I think I owe Galahad an apology. "How long have you been out?"

"Just the last two days." she frowns. "You didn't notice?"

"No, but I probably should have." I sigh, then turn to Drake. "Captain, do you mind-"

"Go ahead." he says with a nod, still gripping the wheel like it might vanish if he lets go. "Have fun."

"Aye aye, Captain."

And so I set out to join the celebration, and live before we fight anew.

 

[Charles Flynn]

"He's getting closer," Drake notes, hands tight around the wheel.

The rebuilt Hind was only out on the water for a day before Blackbeard found us again.

Fortunately, this time I have a plan. And an Archer.

Sending Georgios back wasn't the easiest choice to make, I'll admit, but a mounted knight is functionally useless in this Singularity. Once the wyverns were dealt with and the dragon slain, there was little else he could do to aid us.

The Revenge draws nearer, the slavering madman at her helm. Galahad steps up in order to defend Drake and me, while I send the mental command to begin our counterattack.

The great barrier that restricted our effectiveness in the previous engagement was that all of my Servants specialized in melee combat. Now, though, I fixed that problem.

Blackbeard, waving a cutlass at the helm as he closes in, gives out a great roar of "YOUR WAIFUS OR YOUR-"he stops, staring in astonishment at the arrow currently embedded in his trachea.

'Nice shot, Arash.' I send through the mental link, before ordering aloud, "ARCHERS! OPEN FIRE!"

Arash, Artemis, Euryale, and Elizabeth all open up, their arrows and bullets arcing into the teeming man o'war and felling pirates left and right. Admittedly, Arash and Artemis fell considerably more pirates than Euryale and Elizabeth, but I really wasn't expecting anything else. Against one of the greatest archers to ever live and the literal goddess of archery, just about anyone would fall short.

Of course, they have Servants of their own, as the bullets bouncing off Galahad's shield so adequately prove. Anne Bonny up in the crow's nest as a sniper, and Mary Read on the deck as a swordswoman. And, of course, Hector of Troy, with his legendary Durindana, as Yan has so helpfully informed me.

Needless to say, we have to bog them down quickly, before they can formulate a proper response.

' Tamamo. Vlad. Cursed Arm. Time for phase two.'

They line up on the deck, Tamamo facing Vlad and Vlad with his back to the enemy, his hands out before him like a volleyball player bracing for a serve.

Before they start, though, Tamamo turns to me, a serious look on her face.

"Master."

"Yes?"

"Promise you won't look up my skirt?" ….aaand, mood's gone.

"So, you're fine with everyone else on the deck getting an eyeful?" I ask, gesturing towards the other crewmembers on the deck.

"Well, if they try, I can just claw out their eyes!" she observes cheerfully. "But I could never hurt you. So promise, okay?"

That's... simultaneously sweet and horrifying. "Sure. You have my word."

"Alright then! Let's do this!" and she charges towards Vlad, who manages to remember his part in time. Then, in a move we carefully practiced while the ship was still being repaired, she leaps up, tilting her body so that her feet land on Vlad's crossed hands, and Vlad, putting his A-rank strength on full display, launches her skywards, and towards the Queen Anne's Revenge.

As Tamamo begins her rampage, scattering the already demoralized and decimated pirates like bowling pins, Cursed Arm steps up to the plate.

Once more, his forward charge is transformed into a skyward arc... which ends a few feet short of the Revenge, bonking his head against the planking as he comes down in the sea.

"Lancer?"

"Yes?"

"We're going to need to practice this some more once we get back to Chaldea."

I can't see him very clearly from here, but I think Cursed Arm is flipping us the bird as he scales his way up the side of the ship, completely soaked.

"All right. Boarding party's in, Captain!"

"Very well. MEN! Trim the lines! We're going in closer!"

'Yan. Time to turn your coat.'

On the Revenge, the chaos worsens, as Yan starts accusing other crewmen of being enemy infiltrators and starts an all-out brawl.

I keep my eyes on the redhead in the crow's nest. She's focused on the fighting on the deck, where Mary Read is fighting the rampaging Tamamo as Hector tries to make his way through the crowd to aid her. As I watch, she takes the shot, and a bullet smashes open Tamamo's shoulder, doing little more than anger her.

'Arash. Bonny's distracted. Take the shot.'

His bow thrums, and, without fail, his arrow strikes true, burying itself in Bonny's chest. She topples, dissolving as she falls, and, on the deck, Mary Read stops in shock, already dissolving before Tamamo decapitates her with a swipe of her paw.

Tamamo moves to engage Hector, while Cursed Arm keeps Blackbeard busy, the dread pirate still cursing at us through the mangled remains of his throat. Yan Qing, for his part, finishes off the last human crewman before rushing off to help against Blackbeard.

The fight is almost even, now, although the ranged support taking their shots whenever they get an opening certainly tilts things in our favor.

So, of course, that's when the Hind moves in and opens fire with her cannons, punching a massive rent in the Revenge's hull, as Medea's Dragon Tooth Warriors swarm over the railing and onto the ship, and Vlad jumps over to join them. After all, it's always been my standing policy to never have a fair fight. If the odds aren't massively stacked in your favor, you're not cheating hard enough.

We'd better finish this quickly, though. There's a fog bank rolling in.

"No!" Blackbeard roars, firing his pistol to force Yan back and the retreating to the railing at his ship's stern.

'Yan, Cursed Arm, pull back. He's already barely alive. Let the Dragon Tooth Warriors finish the job.'

I'm close enough to see the despair on his face from where I stand, as he looks on at the seemingly endless army of skeletons who encircle him, and the Servants who await him if he survives the first wave.

And then he laughs, long and hard, his face pulled back in a grin so vicious that it makes me take a step back in fear.

"So this is how it ends!" he bellows, arms wide, eyes twinkling with malice, all but one of the fuses in his hat doused by his own blood. "Dead a second time from treachery, outnumbered and outgunned! Well, to Hell with it! The Devil take the lot of ye, and I'll send as many of you bastards to pave my way before me!" He readies his stance, pistol in one hand, bloodstained hook on the other. "So COME ON!"

"Cool speech, Captain!" Hector comments cheerfully, standing at Blackbeard's side.

Wait, what?

Tamamo and Vlad were supposed to be keeping him busy! How the Hell did he get past them? I look, and they seem just as surprised as I am.

"Me first!" Hector calls, driving his blade into the pirate captain's heart and deftly tearing the Grail out of his belt loop. The fog bank hits just as he dives backwards over the railing, Grail still in hand, leaving my Servants grasping after him in vain.

"Shit." I snarl, already strategizing rapidly. 'Search for him! He can't have gotten very far!'

Actually, with Blackbeard currently face-down in a puddle of his own blood, his Noble Phantasm's going to fade pretty soon. 'Belay that order! Get back to the Hind!'

They file back aboard, although Vlad has to carry Tamamo once the Mad Enhancement shuts off and she's left limping from the injuries she sustained.

And no sooner have they left than the Queen Anne's Revenge fades, letting us see the sleek, lacquered Greek galley that cuts through the fog. At its prow stands a smug-looking blond man, a little girl at his right hand, and Hector at his left. And he's got the Grail.

"Privateers of the Golden Hind and Servants of Chaldea!" he calls, an extremely self-satisfied grin on his face as he addresses us. "I am Jason! Captain of the Argo! You have one chance, and one chance alone to surrender the goddess Euryale to me, for which you will be greatly rewarded. Fail to do so and we'll simply take her by force!"

Dammit. Looks like I'm going to have to kill one of my top ten favorite Greek heroes.

Right. Start gathering information. Map out his personality. Engage him in conversation.

"If you want, her, you'll have to take her over our cold, dead bodies!" Elizabeth snaps, punctuating her declaration by shooting him. Her shot misses, of course, seeing as she's trying to hit from at least a football field away with a shitty flintlock, but it still makes her point. And thoroughly cuts off any chance for clarification, negotiation, or cunctation, utterly throwing my plans to hell.

"Well, you heard the lady. Get 'em Heracles!" he shouts, grinning cruelly.

Did he just say...

A grey missile bursts through the fog, slamming into the Hind's poop deck with the force of an angry god. The planks splinter beneath his feet as he roars his rage to the heavens, hair splayed out behind him and eye burning with a red light.

Oh fuck the Hell no.

'All Servants, I don't care what it takes, get him off the Hind NOW!' I turn to Drake, who looks just as utterly horrified as I feel. "Drake, we need to get out of here, now! He might have more Argonauts!"

Vlad steps up to face the greatest hero of Greece, and is promptly battered back beneath an onslaught of lightning face blows, barely enduring the unspeakably deadly barrage.

"We can't! Not with him on our deck! If we try to tend the lines, we'll die!"

Okay, Hail Mary time. "Elizabeth, try to use your Grail to move the ship!"

Asterios has joined the fight, his own titanic strength allowing him to go blow for blow against the son of Zeus, and holding his attention so that Vlad and Tamamo can strike at his flank.

"Flynn!" Orion calls, floating over towards me as Artemis, alongside Arash, peppers her half-brother with arrows, not a single one of them striking home. Euryale, for her part, is holding her shot more often than not. A single instance of friendly fire could be deadly as things stand now. Hassan throws daggers where he finds the chance, and Yan is apparently smart enough to stay out of it when the fighting is well out of his league. "We can't hurt him!"

"Kind of figured!" I snap, watching as our best and brightest can only stall him.

"He has a Noble Phantasm called God Hand. It makes him invulnerable to anyone without Divinity as high as his, and gives him twelve lives, one for each Labor!"

"So only Artemis can kill him?"

Orion coughs. "Well, no. She hijacked my Saint Graph, so she can't actually hurt him."

Welp. We're fucked. "What can hurt him?"

"A-rank attacks, and high enough Divinity."

We're fucked. 'Tamamo, engage Monstrous Strength. Your Strength stat isn't high enough to defeat him as it is.'

"We're moving!" Elizabeth cheers, as the sails begin to fill, and we start to move away.

Then I hear Jason's voice. "Heracles! Hold him still!"

The Berserker complies, his mighty arms holding Asterios in an inescapable grip, as, on the Argo, Hector's spear begins to glow with a golden light.

"DURINDANA!" Troy's greatest defender roars as the shining golden spear soars, piercing straight through Asterios' chest and sinking deep into Heracles' before detonating.

"Asterios!" Euryale screams, and I don't blame her. Heracles' nigh invulnerable hide spared us the brunt of the detonation, but Asterios, along with the decking below and behind him were absolutely shredded. I can see his lungs right now, and they do not look like the lungs of a man that's going to live past five minutes.

But now, for this moment, Heracles is dead (albeit temporarily) and we have an opening.

"TOSS HIM OVERBOARD BEFORE HE RECOVERS!"

Vlad and Tamamo lunge forward, shoulder-checking the now-regenerating Heracles over the damaged railing before he returns to consciousness.

"DRAKE, ELIZABETH, GO! GOGOGOGOGOGO!"

"All hands to the lines!"

"ARCHERS! Keep shooting him! Make sure he can't swim after us at full speed!"

As they go to keep our pursuit at bay, I slump down against a railing, suddenly feeling bone tired as the adrenaline leaves me.

"Solid work, Master." Galahad says, sitting down besides me. "I was honestly sure that we were all about to die."

"Me too." I murmur. Then, I sigh. "We're going to need to shake them."

'Medea, are you aware of what's going on?'

'Eminently so.' she replies from belowdecks, seething with rage. 'What would you ask of me, my Master?'

'We need a charm or ward of some kind to keep them from magically tracing Euryale.' I inform her, watching as the little Gorgon weeps besides Asterios' already vanishing body. 'Then...'

'Then?'

'Then we find an island with some centaurs on it, set up for a proper defense, and request some materials from Chaldea.' I grin. 'We have their objective. Now we force them to come to us.'

They won the first round. But we survived, and we're going to make them regret it.

 

[Charles Flynn]

"All right, people," I begin, looking out over a crowd consisting of the Servants who've sided with Chaldea, along with Queen Elizabeth. They look back at me, some grim, others hopeful, and all of them expecting me to have a plan. I swallow my nervousness, and continue. "I'm not going to sugarcoat things. We lost. And our chances aren't looking good."

I start to pace, hands firmly clasped behind my back. "Our enemy is Jason of Iolcus, leader of the Argonauts, hero of the Argonautica. A brilliant and charismatic tactician who's leading the greatest collection of Ancient Greek heroes the world has ever known. He's a veteran of countless engagements, with an incredible gift for managing Heroic Spirits, particularly those of the Argo, and is no slouch in personal combat himself. Beyond that, his crew. The inimitable Heracles, whom you all might remember as the unstoppable juggernaut who quite nearly killed us all a few hours back, Hector, the legendary defender of Troy, and God knows who else."

Faces are falling, and Drake is giving me a questioning look.

"But enough about his advantages. Let's talk about ours." I turn on my heel and pace back the way I came, letting a grin begin to form on my face. "Firstly, we have his objective, meaning he has to come to us. We can make this a defensive battle and stack the field entirely in our favor. Secondly, we know the weaknesses of both him and his crew. The price of fame, I suppose. Lastly, but perhaps more importantly..." My grin is full-born now, full of wicked glee. "We have the woman who single-handedly destroyed his life on our side."

Medea looks at me inquisitively at that.

"I don't know Jason." I admit. "I can't plan around him all that well, not without him planning around me in turn. But Medea? She knows him. And moreover, she knows how to destroy him. Which is why, when we find an island that meets the requirements for our killing field, I will cede operational command over to her."

Now that gets a response. But I wave the objections off.

"Why?" Medea asks, looking surprised, the furthest off her game I've ever seen her become.

"Because you know him better than anyone else, which means you know exactly how to destroy him. And you hate him more than anyone else, which means you'll stop[ at nothing in doing so."

She grins, surprise being swiftly replaced by malicious glee and anticipation. "Thank you, Master."

"My pleasure," I lie. I still can't shake the sense that this will go horribly wrong, but all the same, it's the method with the highest chance of success, regardless of my paranoia.

---​

"Third island, and no centaurs," Drake notes as he mans the helm.

"Hey, we're only starting off the search," I offer, standing besides him, Galahad at my side. "Although, I do have a good feeling about this one."

Because the universe apparently hates me, an arrow whistles past my ear, and embeds itself quivering in the decking. I, of course, react with calm and measured aplomb by immediately hitting the deck and screaming "GALAHADSAVEME!" in a commanding, manly baritone.

"Wow. That was pathetic even by your standards," the Grail Knight of the Round Table notes as he steps up to cover me, his mighty shield raised defensively.

"Shut up. It caught me off-guard." I mutter, slowly getting back to my feet. And... wait, there's something wrapped around the shaft. "Hold on. Is that a note?"

"Looks like it," Drake observes, as I unwrap it from around the arrow. "What's it say?"

"Hell if I know. It's written in Linear B." Drake shoots me a confused look. "The linguistic precursor to Ancient Greek. I can't read it. Medea!"

"What?"

"Someone shot a note wrapped around an arrow at me, and I can't read it! I need you to translate!"

"Up in a minute!"

True to her word, she soon emerges, hood down, stripping off the gloves she was wearing. I'm still not sure what she's brewing up down there, whatever it is, it does not do pleasant things to your skin.

"Right, let me see," she mutters, taking the letter from me and looking it over. "It says, 'Are you friend or foe to Jason of Iolcus?'"

Another arrow thuds into the decking, and after a brief moment, Medea picks that one up too. She looks it over, and then bursts out laughing. "This one... this one says, 'Never mind. You have Medea with you, which definitively answers my question. Come ashore to meet with me, enemy of Jason.'"

"A potential ally?" Drake asks, hands still firm on the wheel.

"Maybe." I mutter, before looking to Medea. "Do you know who it is?"

"From the arrow's fletching and shape, and the terrible handwriting, I'd say the Archer who's requesting a meeting is Atalanta."

"Interesting. I wouldn't mind meeting her, but is she likely to be on Jason's side?"

"Extremely so." Medea affirms. "She always felt indebted to Jason for giving her the chance to prove herself, and not turning her away when she asked to join him on his quest for the Golden Fleece. He was one of the only ones on the Argo who actually seemed to respect her as a hero."

"Were you friends?" I ask.

"No." she sighs. "Although later, when I recovered from Aphrodite's curse, I wished we had been. But, at the time, the only person I cared about was Jason."

"Alright. We meet with her, but we take precautions."

---​

"So. You came," a voice calls from the trees.

I'm surrounded by my Servants, along with a complement of Dragon Tooth Warriors.

"Yes!" I call out. "And you would be Atalanta, Huntress of Artemis, correct?"

She lands with a soft thud, bow in hand and eyes sharp. She wears a hunter's garb, her hair tied back in a ponytail and her clothes all a dull brown, tightly fitted to her.

And she has cat ears, for some reason, which I'm trying really hard not to stare at.

"Yes. And you're the Master of Chaldea."

"Hm. Always good to be recognized, I suppose. So, may I ask if you're friend or foe?"

"If you're Jason's enemy, I'm friend to you."

"Huh." Okay, wasn't entirely expecting that. "I actually got the impression that you respected him, at least from Medea's account and my own familiarity with the myths."

"I do." she agrees. "Which is why I refuse to help him when he's not acting like himself and actively striking against his best interests."

"How so?" I ask, furrowing my brow.

"To begin with, when he summoned me, he didn't try to ask me to follow him, he demanded." she shakes her head. "Jason never did that. He was always polite, even to people who hated him, and always waited at least until the third sentence in any conversation to bring up what he wanted you to do. He was manipulative and demanding, sure, but he was always subtle about it. The Jason that summoned me had all the grace and subtlety of the Calydonian Boar."

"So, you think someone's using him, or he's being controlled somehow."

"He didn't even subtly guilt-trip me once about how he gave me a chance to prove myself. The real Jason never let a chance to do that slip him by when he was trying to talk me into something."

"And… you actually liked the old Jason?" I ask incredulously.

"Well, yes. For all that he was easily the single most manipulative person I've ever met, he was... There was just something about him you couldn't help but like, and he obviously considered us his friends. He was an asshole, but he was our asshole."

"I get that, I suppose." I try not to be slightly discomfited by the fact that a few of my servants are openly nodding along in understanding while looking my way. "But how is he acting against his best interests?"

"Hm. David, you can come out now!" she calls.

There's a rustling, and out steps... Dr. Roman?

I blink. Okay, it's not Dr. Roman, but the resemblance is uncanny. Their hair is even almost the exact same shade of red.

"Hey." the Roman-doppleganger calls, waving at us. "Name's David. King of Israel and all that. Nice to meet you!"

Keep your inner fanboy contained, Charlie. Don't squee! It's not all that cool! Remember Uriah! Don't ask King David for an autograph.

"An honor to meet you, great King," I offer up, keeping my tone measured.

"Same here. I've been keeping an eye on your work, and I'm impressed." he replies with an easy grin that just furthers the resemblance.

"So. What do you wish to tell us?" I ask, trying my hardest to stay professional.

"Well. Let me tell you about the Ark of the Covenant."

---​

We return to the Hind with Atalanta in tow, still reeling from the revelation that Indiana Jones was historically accurate.

Well, at least I am. I can't speak for the others.

It's only when we clamber out from the rowboat onto the deck of the Hind that I realize that I forgot to mention something to Atalanta.

"Ah, Huntress, I might have neglected to mention-"

"Atalanta?" a high, bubbly voice calls in recognition. "Oh, it's so good to see you!"

I look around and then grab a mostly-full bottle of the hardest liquor available. It will be needed.

"Do I know you?" the chaste huntress asks, as her goddess flounces towards her.

"Oh! It's me! Artemis!" she calls, a huge grin splitting her face. "I came to join my sweetykins in saving the world."

Atalanta starts to laugh. "No, you're not." She turns to me. "Flynn, it's a good joke, but that's enough."

I give her a resigned, apologetic look.

"You don't believe me?" Artemis asks, looking hurt. Then she grabs Atalante by the collar and whispers something into her ear in Greek.

"But that- I only said that to- You-" Atalanta babbles, her face slowly contorting into a mask of pure despair.

Wordlessly, I hand her the bottle.

 

[Charles Flynn]

I watch from the scrying cave as the Argo approaches, banks of oars moving in unison.

Took them long enough. We finished setting up the trap and disabled Euryale's anti-location ward yesterday.

And there's Jason, standing at the helm.

Ooh. He saw the scarecrows.

At first, I disagreed with Medea's plan to string up the exsanguinated centaurs' corpses like scarecrows, and reshape all their faces to look like Chiron's. But now, watching Jason stare in horror and silently mouth the name of the man who was like a father to him, his eyes beginning to tear up as he does so... I still think we went too far with this.

And then 'I' step out into the open just as the Archers start their barrage.

Hector and the little girl Caster are both pinned down protecting Jason, while Heracles bursts into action to do what he does best, chasing after the disguised Yan Qing like an oncoming freight train.

He doesn't even make it out of sight of the Argo before he tumbles into the pit trap full of hydra-tainted centaur blood.

I don't need sound in order to hear his screams. Or Jason's wails of grief as he watches his best friend die in front of him.

All right. Come on, Charlie. Don't let guilt distract you. Don't let doubt slow you.

'Archer Servants... concentrate fire on the girl.'

She doesn't see it coming. She goes from intercepting the arrows, to being their target. Arash hits her in the shoulder, and now she has to choose between shielding herself and healing herself, which makes her freeze up. She's still young, and inexperienced. She can't make decisions on the fly, and in her momentary hesitation, Atalanta's Noble Phantasm turns her into a human pincushion. She dies without a word, pinned to the deck by the arrows driven through every inch of her body, her face a rictus of agonized terror.

Hector's next, and he knows it. His body tightens, his eyes sharpen as he steels himself to meet his end.

He doesn't falter, shielding Jason with everything he has, a protector to the very end. He dies looking more like a porcupine than a man, unable to even stand.

And then the volleys stop, leaving only Jason, alone upon his Argo. And Medea, flying forwards, her cloak spread out like the wings of a bat, who grins with the dark, malevolent glee of a cat that's cornered a mouse.

Jason takes one look at her and falls on his sword, leaving her screaming in rage.

'We've secured the Grail, Flynn.' Galahad reports, his voice somewhere between shaken and angry. 'Did you know? Did you know she would do this?'

'No.' I send back numbly.

I... dear God, what have I done? What have I done?

 

[Charles Flynn]

I take a deep breath as I step out of the scrying cave. Time to go back. It's over. And...

The worst part, as I think about it, is that the entirety of what I witnessed, the great brunt of what I just saw... it could have been one of my plans. No mercy and no quarter. The enemy something less than human, to be disposed of by any means necessary. Anything and everything permitted in order to save humanity.

Is this what the others saw when I took out Lancelot and Gareth? When I had Jeanne Alter and Caligula killed mid-conversation? When I gave Vlad free rein to slaughter as he pleased?

Am I like her?

Do I want to be like her?

-the little Caster, still just a girl, the glowing arrows splitting her apart, one eyelid dangling loosely by a thread from her ruined eyesocket, fluttering ever-so-slightly at the base of the arrow embedded in her head like some grotesque parody of a lowered flag, gasping as-

No. No, I don't want to be like her. I don't want to be anything like her.

But, my strategy, my targeted plans of attack, they're what I do. Can I leave those behind? Can I really just stop doing what's made me so effective thus far? If my methods are necessary to saving humanity, and I abstain from them because they're morally wrong, isn't that the greater evil?

But, at the same time, can I really go through with them? Can I plan like I used to, now that I've seen what my own type of strategies look like without the thrill of victory dulling my sight?

I don't know.

Come on, Charlie, get your head in the game. It's not over yet. Just keep it together a little longer, and then, once you're back on Chaldea, you can work through your newfound crisis of morality on your own time. For now, steel your shoulders, and settle your mind. Gravitas.

I straighten up, and focus on the world around me.

"-if you can hear me, say something!" Roman shouts, and I belatedly realized that I must have been a bit too absorbed in my own thoughts.

"I can hear you."

"Good," he sighs. "You just... spaced out for a bit there, after you left the cave. You all right?"

"I'm-" I start, a lie of my solid and whole mental state on my lips before I stop, thinking the better of it. "No, but I'll manage for the rest of the Singularity."

"If you say so," Roman acquiesces, looking at me with unabashed worry. I'm probably in for some counseling when I get back. "Anyways, now that you're back with us, I can finally tell you what I've been trying to tell you for the minute or two: the Singularity isn't beginning to collapse."

"WHAT?"

"The Rogue Servants aren't dissolving, the World hasn't started its corrections, and the geography hasn't started to normalize."

"We secured the Grail, right?" I ask, my mind racing.

"Yes. And we've confirmed that its previous owners have been terminated." Roman says, shaking his holographic head in frustration. "Without the power of a Holy Grail, the Singularity shouldn't be able to maintain itself."

"The power of a Grail..." I echo, my mind racing. And then it settles.

I need to find Elizabeth.

---​

"Flynn. It's done?" Drake says in greeting as I walk into the secured clearing that houses the Hind's crew.

"Almost." I say. "We've secured the enemy Grail, but for some reason, the Singularity still isn't settling itself properly."

The crew's reactions to that little tidbit are varied, but I keep my eye on Elizabeth. She winces, just the tiniest flinch, and her hand goes to the Grail in her belt loop almost unconsciously.

Theory confirmed.

"The current presiding theory is that the Singularity is being supported by two Grails, and not just one." I continue. Galahad enters the clearing, rejoining me as I requested telepathically a few minutes ago. "Elizabeth, could you hand over your Grail for a moment so we can test it?"

She takes a step back as everyone turns to look at her, her hand tight around the Grail. Her eyes dart around as she realizes that she's cornered.

"Does it..." she stops and clears her throat, blinking tears out of her eyes. "Does it have to end?"

Drake looks at her sadly. "Elizabeth..."

"I-" she starts and stops a few times, her voice failing her. "I don't want this to be over! I don't want to go back! I know it's selfish, but..." she's well and truly crying now, tears rolling down her cheeks. "This... this journey? Sailing with you all and having adventures? For the first time in my life, I felt like I was free! I could be anyone! Do anything! This... this has been the best year of my entire life!" The rest of the crew is crying now, and Drake's face could be carved from granite. "I don't want to go back to the palace, surrounded by rules and scheming, with everyone trying to control me, or make me into something I'm not. I don't want to go back to having all that power and responsibility, just because of who I was born as! I want to stay! I want to go on more adventures with you all! I want... I don't want this to end. I want to be free."

"Elizabeth," Drake interjects, his voice stern, but with an undertone of kindness. "You can still be free when you go back."

"But… I just told you-"

"You told me that you feel free here," Drake interrupts, his tone brooking no argument. "Elizabeth, tell me, do you think I'm free?"

"Well, yes!" she answers heatedly. "You're a man, you're a noble, you're the captain, you can sail anywhere you-"

"And does that make me free?" he asks. "I am your man through and through, my Queen. If you commanded me to die for you, I'd do it in a heartbeat. And no, it's not because of who you were born to, it's because I know you, and I trust you. And even setting aside that I couldn't betray you, there's my wife back home. Do you think I would ever do anything to hurt her? Or to hurt my crew?"

"I... no."

"We're not free creatures by nature, Liz. We bind ourselves to each other even when we try not to. If there's a man alive who's free from that, I'd hate to meet him. And even beyond that, there's laws we can't slip free from, be they that things fall downwards or that all creatures return to their Maker eventually."

"So, what, freedom's an illusion? Just another empty dream?" the young queen looks heartbroken at that.

"Yes, but it's a beautiful one all the same," Sir Drake affirms, actually smiling for the first time since I've met him. "No man or woman is free forever on this Earth, because freedom isn't something concrete. It's in the moments. It's in the rise of the ship on the swell, sun shining down bright in the brilliant blue sky and a soft breeze stirring the sea. It's in returning home and finding that they're still waiting for you. It rests in seconds and minutes, the brightest and briefest, the ones that make you feel like you're taller than the mountains, like if you reached out, you'd touch the sky. And that's not something that can be found only on the deck of a ship, Liz. It won't ever leave you."

"I..." she's crying still, and I am too, although for slightly different reasons. That was easily the most beautiful speech about freedom I've ever heard. Even if it came from a slave trader. "But.. do I have to leave you behind? You're my friends. The first ones I..."

"Idiot." Drake offers, wrapping his arms around her. "Queen or not, you're still one of us, come hell or high water, and nothing's going to change that."

The crew cheers in agreement, and the whole mess quickly becomes a group hug, leaving Galahad and myself sitting awkwardly on the sidelines.

Finally, they break apart, and Captain Drake clears his throat awkwardly. "And if any of you lot ever tell a soul that I ever said something that sappy, I'll keelhaul you myself."

"Aye-aye Captain!" they chorus.

Elizabeth turns to me, tears already drying on her cheeks, and a fragile smile on her face. She makes to hand over the Grail, but stops, hesitation written on her face. "Flynn? Could you... tell me about the future? Not anything important, just... what it's like. Is it..." she doesn't finish the question, but I can see it on her face.

"Is it worth it?"

I could give her a lot of answers, I suppose. A thousand words, and a speech to rival Drake's.

But in the end, there's only one answer that I can give.

"It's a place where people are free. Not everyone, yet, but more than there used to be. And maybe they're not as free as they ought to be, but they're freer than they were."

"I wish I could see it for myself." she muses as she hands Galahad the Grail. I realize, to a certain degree of surprise, that I do too.

The Grail slides into the shield, and the Singularity begins to dissolve.

And as the light of the Rayshift takes me, I see them for the last time. The Queen and her Captain, standing side-by-side.

 

[Charles Flynn]

Things return to routine after the Singularity is resolved. At least, as close to the routine as they can get.

Honestly... I'm still in shock, and reevaluating my life choices. So I decide to talk to someone about it.

---​

"So," Georgios begins, staring into the depths of his teacup contemplatively. "You do not wish to be like Medea, but at the same time, you are unsure if it is morally right to abstain from your previous methods if doing so endangers our chances of success. Have I summarized your dilemma accurately?"

"Yes."

We're in the chaplain's office, off to the side of the chapel. The chairs in here are surprisingly comfortable, actually.

"Master, while I do sincerely appreciate your acknowledgement of your flaws and desire to rein yourself in, I feel that you might be a bit too binary in your thinking, here." Georgios offers, after he's finished his contemplations. "While I myself consider your methods dishonorable, I also know that, in a battle as desperately important as this one, trickery and guile can be valuable weapons indeed. I will not deny you your greatest tools."

"So... keep doing what I'm doing?"

"Not exactly, Master." Georgios thinks for a moment, and then continues. "I noticed, on the island of Stheno, that you managed to disable three Servants in rapid succession, all without resorting to violence."

"That really wasn't..."

"You have a gift, Master, for trickery and fast-talking." Georgios interrupts. "I think that you should try to use that more often."

"I suppose I could try to do that,"

"Good. I believe that it would be far more acceptable in His eyes if you were to try to disarm more conflicts with words than violence." Georgios tells me. "Just try. That's all I'm asking. It's all He's asking, too."

Try talking things out instead of immediately resorting to violence, huh? I suppose... I can work with that. I've a big enough stick as is. I just need to learn to speak softly.

And, so fortified, I go on with my day.

---​

The summonings go on, and continue to be fruitful. We only have to kill Kiyohime once.

Also, the creepy guy with a Christine fetish shows up again, and is promptly put down.

---
​

"Assassin-Class, True Name Mata Hari! Pleased to meet you, Master! Let's try to get along, all right?" she calls. How the hell did a Twentieth-Century spy and exotic dancer qualify for the Throne? Did the World just think, 'Hey, maybe one day we'll languish at the mercy of a bunch of horny adolescents, and the only way to distract them and save us all will be a striptease?'

"Do you know anything about bartending?" I ask instead.

"Yep!"

"Neat. Go see Dr. Roman."
​

---​

"Servant Archer, True Name David," the lanky redhead calls with a grin. "Glad to meet you again, Flynn."

"Likewise."

"So, what is there for me to do around here?" he asks, looking around.

"Well, unless you're willing to clean the floors," I offer hopefully, to which he shakes his head, "Then I'm not sure where we need labor. Go talk to Dr. Roman."

Two summonings later (we got another goddamn Phantasmal again) Roman storms into the room.

"You summoned David?" he asks indignantly, his lookalike trailing behind him.

"Roman, now is really not a good time," I grunt.

"Yeah, right, sorry," he mutters, before doing a double-take. "Is that a unicorn?"

The enormous white beast froths at the mouth as its baleful red eyes alight on him, redoubling its struggles to escape Georgios' hold as he, Cursed Arm, and Cu try desperately to kill the creature.

"Yes, and it really doesn't like you. You should probably leave, your presence just seems to make it angrier."

He pauses. "Oh, right. They really don't like non-virgins."

"Indeed. I'm slightly surprised you qualify, actually." I shoot back, growing steadily more irritated that this is the second unicorn we've had to put down so far, and Roman's just making things worse. David snickers from behind Roman.

"Wait, why isn't it going after you?"

"Roman. Leave."
​

---​

"Servant Lancer, True Name Musashibo Benkei," the towering Japanese man announces, his face stern.

Hooray! I kinda know him!

"Glad to have you aboard, Lord Benkei. Please see Dr. Roman for your work assignment."

"Yes, my Master." he pauses at the doorway, looking back at us. "There are glowing bloodstains on the walls and floor of your summoning chamber."

"I am aware."

"I wished to make sure that you were," he assures me stoically, still hesitating at the door. "Er… may I ask why-"

"Unicorn incident. We don't have a janitorial team to clean the place up, so we just have to live with the stains." At least Da Vinci took the body away to dissect for parts.

"Ah." He leaves.

"Finally. Alright, Marjani, fire 'er up!"
​

---​

"Servant Rider, True Name Alexander!" the young redheaded man calls. "The future King of Conquerors. A pleasure to meet you!"

"Likewise." I affirm. "Go see Dr. Roman."

As he heads off, I silently affirm to myself that I am never taking him into the field. Servant or not, there's no way in hell I'm dragging a kid into the line of fire.
​

---​

"Servant Rider, True Name Blackbeard!" the towering pillar of a man bellows, his fuses burning bright. "Pleased ta meetcha, Master."

"Just... for the sake of my sanity, if you suddenly start demanding women's panties, or ranting in internet slang, I will have you summarily executed," I inform him. "Are we clear?"

"See, shit like this? Shit like this is why I left the navy." Blackbeard grumbles, giving me the stinkeye.

"Are. We. Clear?"

"Fine, you great buzzkill. I'll leave well enough alone." he concedes with a grimace. "And I was going to have so much fun making them squirm, too."

"I'm not forbidding terrorizing Servants and staff, just forcing you to be creative." I offer. "Trust me, I have no doubt that you'll manage to frighten and disturb them to no end and cause me no end of headaches, regardless of what I try. I'm just keeping you from going about it by giving them fodder for sexual harassment lawsuits."

"Fair enough, Master. I guess you're alright."
​

---​

"Servant Rider, True Name, Ushiwakamaru." the young girl calls, wearing what looks like a samurai-themed stripper outfit. "I've come to- Uh, Master, why aren't you looking at me?"

"Marjani, do you have any spare clothes that'll fit her?" she nods. "Okay, good, no more summonings for today, just take her back to your room and get her some actual clothing."

"Wait, what's wrong with what I'm wearing?" Marjani gently takes her by the arm and leads her away. "Hey, Master? Master?"
​

---​

The light shines brightly on the third try of our next summoning session, revealing a tall, thin man in a red cloak. His face is handsome and stern, his hair grey with a few black streaks and meticulously combed, and his bronze, stylized breastplate gleams dully in the light. His left hand rests on the pommel of his blade, and his right is firmly wrapped about the pole of his golden eagle.

"Rejoice, Master of Chaldea! For you have summoned the foremost of Sabers! I am Julius Caesar, champion and savior of Rome!"

"An honor, Mighty Caesar." I say, scanning his stats.

I think I just found myself a new second-in-command.

"In truth, Master, the honor is mine, to join in so noble a cause."

"Very well. After the summoning concludes, I was rather hoping you might review potential tactics during deployment with me." Like hell I'm going to pass up the chance to talk shop with Julius Caesar.
​

---
​

But, well, summoning isn't the only responsibility I have. So, it's with no small amount of hesitation that I find myself in front of the witch's door once more.

She opens when I knock.

"Another translation?" she asks.

"Well, yes, but also, I was wondering if I might ask about your capabilities. After your performance in the last Singularity, I feel I've been underutilizing you."

She hesitates, before nodding. "Very well. May I ask what you need my help in translating?"

"I think you might like it, actually."

"Why so?"

"It's about you."

Ovid's Medea. My old Latin teacher would have given her arm to get her hands on this.

"I suppose that might be interesting." She concedes, stepping out and closing the door behind her. I might be imagining it, but I think I see her smile, in the shadows of her hood.

Well, she's probably not going to kill me, so there's that, at least.​

 

[Charles Flynn]

"So, supplies are still going strong," Roman sums up. "As a result, we won't have to make a raiding party for another month at the longest."

That gets a wave of relieved sighs. Caesar doesn't join in, of course, still meticulously taking notes.

I'm still not sure how he got himself invited, but, well, he is one of the greatest strategists of all time, why turn him away?

"Now," Roman begins, his eyes serious. "On to the main meat of the meeting: We've found the fifth Singularity."

"Impressive timing," I comment. "It's only been a week since the last one wrapped up, and already we're ready to hit up the next one."

"I can't really take credit for it, this was all Da Vinci." he demurs sheepishly, his hand on the back of his head. "The Singularity is in Victorian London, in the year 1888. We're not entirely sure what the precise nature of the Singularity is, but we'll be deploying tomorrow at 0900."

"Understood. I'll pick out my initial team and brief them on the subject, and familiarize myself with the era."

---​

The next morning, my team of Caesar, Tamamo, Georgios, Cursed Arm, and Cu Chulainn (both Spandex Lancer and Caster) are waiting for me in the Rayshift Chamber.

Mash smiles at me from besides Roman and Da Vinci, and I realize with a pang that I haven't really talked with her since the last Singularity. I'll have to fix that soon.

But for now, it's time to save the world again.

 

[Charles Flynn]

"Flynn? You there?" Roman asks over the comms. "Our sensors are being suppressed for some reason. We can't pick up anything outside of you."

"I'm here. Alive and well." I call in confirmation, looking over my Servants. "My away team, too."

"Good," Roman sighs, his holographic form slumping down a bit. "So. What do you see?"

"Well, I knew that the weather here was shit, but I never realized it was this bad." I joke, looking about. "The fog's thick as pea soup, and it smells... well, wrong. Feels a bit off, too. Galahad, you got anything?"

"I-" a woman screams off in the distance, and suddenly there's an iron grip around my wrist, dragging me off towards the imperiled lady at the speed of a runaway locomotive.

Jesus Christ! I think he just dislocated my arm!

Finally, I'm released, and slam into the Shielder's mighty back as he skids to a halt, shield out before him, incidentally slamming into a small body and sending them flying in the process.

I then crumple into an agonized heap, as Galahad, that son of a bitch, completely ignores me to look over a lump on the ground, which I know realize is a woman. Who's apparently been stabbed.

"Damnation. We didn't get here in time," Galahad says as he looks her over, gently closing her eyes. "She's dead."

"That's sad and all, but what the actual Hell, Galahad?" I growl, then wince as I jostle my shoulder.

He looks back almost guiltily, suddenly seeming to remember I'm here. "Ah. My apologies, Flynn. I heard a damsel in distress, and could do no less than rush to her aid."

"Why'd you drag me along?" I ask. "You dislocated my shoulder, Galahad."

"Oh. Well, I deduced that the fog is toxic, and if we were separated, you would most likely perish," he recounts. "Thus, I had to bring you with me."

"And you couldn't have just stayed where we were?" I snap, keenly aware of the fact that I'm separated from my other Servants, now.

"There was a damsel in distress." Galahad notes, as if the idea of just not helping her is utterly inconceivable. "But I will admit that I acted on instinct. I'm.... sorry, Flynn."

He apologizes like it physically pains him.

"Fine. Just relocate my shoulder, and then help me find the others."

He steps up and... I scream as it snaps back into place, and my entire world turns into pain.

"Unhand that woman, fiend!" a strident voice bellows. Galahad's up on his feet in an instant, his shield at the ready.

A horned, imposing outline is just barely visible through fog, and armored footsteps draw ever closer.

"Bold words from one of unknown intent," Galahad replies, his face fierce. "I know you not, good sir, but your shape belies a dark nature."

"Me the sinister one?" the figure scoffs. "Wretched harridan, I find you besides the body of one victim, and in the midst of raising your hands against another! Never shall I yield my name to a blackguard so unworthy of the honor!"

"Foul villain, recant your words, or taste my-" Galahad stops as the figure comes fully into view. "Sir Mordred? What the devil are you doing here?"

"'Tis only fitting that you should know me at a sight, fiend." the freshly identified Knight of the Round Table boasts, his surprisingly high-pitched voice laden with smugness. "For I am Mordred, heir of Arthur, and the King's only equal, bane of the wicked and unjust, and I shall be your doom."

"Mordred, it's me, Galahad."

The armored figure stops dead in his tracks, and the helmet slides away, revealing a fairly effeminate-looking blond. "Nice try, mate, but Galahad wasn't a woman."

"Neither were you, last time I checked."

"Oi, fuck off!"

"But, yes, the body's a new development, and hopefully a temporary one."

Mordred snorts. "Well, fine then, 'Sir Galahad,' if you're who you say you are, then tell me what happened when we set off on the Grail Quest together."

"Your horse got spooked and tossed you into a tree, at which point a beehive fell on you and covered you in honey and angry bees. Then the bears showed up, and..."

"Okay! That's enough!" Mordred snaps, flushing in embarrassment. "I believe you."

"Finally."

"So..." they stand there for a minute or two, staring awkwardly at each other. "How'd all that happen?" he points at Galahad's borrowed bust.

"Long story. You got a base around here?"

"Yeah, there's this one guy I'm crashing with."

"Neat. Get me and my Master there, and I'll tell you the whole story."

"Wait, he's a guy?" Mordred asks incredulously.

"Yeah, he just screams like a little girl." Galahad explains with a grin.

I power through the pain enough to flip him off, and then promptly pass out.

 

[Charles Flynn]

I wake up on a couch in a fairly opulent room.

"Oh, good, you're back with us," Galahad comments from where he sits besides me. "You really do make a habit of dramatically fainting at inconvenient times, don't you?"

"Well, we are in Victorian London," I comment. "When in Rome..."

"So you're wearing a corset?" Galahad snarks.

"I mean, you're wearing heels, it's not like you've got much room to judge."

"I am not-" he looks down at his borrowed feet. "Oh God, I'm wearing heels."

"Yep."

"How have I been keeping my balance through all those fights? I've never worn heels in my life! My entire combat style should have been completely turned topsy turvy by these things! Hell, I'm pretty sure that these didn't even exist during my lifetime! WHY ARE THEY HERE?"

"I dunno, but maybe they work like with a centipede: they work as long as you're not thinking about it."

He turns to glare balefully at me. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Little bit."

"I could kill you, you know."

"I know."

"Thousand different ways, you wouldn't see it coming."

"I know."

"Just here one second and- BAM! -gone the next."

"I know."

"Just making sure you remembered that I could do it."

"But you wouldn't."

"Of course not, where on Earth would I find someone as singularly enjoyable to mock as you?" he grins, and then starts to get up. "I'll go tell Mordred and the Doctor you're awake."

He takes two steps and promptly falls flat on his face.

"You thought about it, didn't you?"

"Fuck off, Flynn."

---​

While Galahad's gone, I take the opportunity to try and contact my Servants.

'Calling all Servants, please respond as soon as you are able.'

I get a chorus of responses. Seems that all of them are still out there, at least.

'Whoever's been in charge since we were separated, speak up. I want a report on what you've been up to.'

'That would be me, Master.' Caesar reports, his voice stern and stoic. ' After Galahad ran off with you, it took us a moment to marshal ourselves and chase after you. Unfortunately, these damn streets are a maze, and Galahad had a head start. Coupled with the fog lowering visibility and dampening magical trails, we were unable to follow. Our progress was further hindered by the fact that, as we pursued, we ran into several strange automata, and mechanical swordsmen, along with bizarre human-shaped white lumps, all of which were extremely hostile.'

'Were they a serious threat?' I ask, concerned. If these things could give Servants trouble, I can only imagine what they'd do to the average Londoner.

'No, not in the slightest. But I don't doubt they could kill your average inhabitant of the city in a heartbeat.' He laughs. ' Honestly the thing that's been giving us the most trouble was how the fog blocks us from sensing you, and the street plan seems to have been designed by a monkey on drugs. Nothing like a proper Roman colony.'

'Well, London was a Roman colony, actually.' I correct, slightly surprised he didn't remember. 'You should know that, because I'm fairly certain that you founded it.'

'Don't be ridiculous, Flynn. I would never be so crass as to found such an utter cesspool of poor urban planning.' Caesar snorts. 'It's worse than Rome, for Jove's sake! The Roman street map was bad enough once, Flynn! No Roman worth their salt would ever permit such an atrocity against proper traffic management to occur a second time.'

Okay, did he seriously not figure it out? 'Caesar, London is Londinium.'

I think I heard a record scratch. 'Londinium? MY Londimium? My nice and orderly Londinium? This atrocity towards urban planning is my Londinium?'

'Yep.'

'WHAT HAVE THEY DONE TO MY CITY?' he roars indignantly. 'My nice, orderly, beautiful Londinium, turned into this sprawling atrocity against proper urban planning? My beautiful street map, mutated into this overgrown tangle? CRUCIFIXIONS FOR EVERYONE! ESPECIALLY WHOEVER PUT IN ALL THE MOTHERFUCKING CUL DE SACKS! I DON'T KNOW IF YOU THINK YOU'RE FUNNY, BUT BELIEVE YOU ME, THERE WILL BE A GREAT DEAL OF CULLING AND SACKING OF BOTH YOUR LINE AND YOUR ESTATE WHEN I'M THROUGH WITH YOU, YOU INBRED HICK! A POX ON YOU! A POX ON YOUR ANCESTORS, AND ALL YOU BRITONS AND SAXONS AND WHOEVER THE FUCK ELSE YOUR GODSFORSAKEN TOWN BICYCLE OF AN ISLAND MANAGED TO SUCK IN!' He keeps going for quite a while in that vein, but eventually runs out of steam.

'You done?'

'Just about. My apologies, Master. It's been a very trying day.' he sends back, sounding honestly contrite.

'I completely understand. So. How lost are you, right now?'

'Very. Er... Could we just... forget about that rant of mine?'

'What rant?'

'... Thank you, Master.'

'I have to sign off now, and go meet with my current hosts. I'll try to get you directions so we can meet back up.'

'That would be greatly appreciated. Thank you, and goodbye for now, Master.'

I grin, and return my attention to the world around me.

There are three sets of footsteps coming down the hall, two of which have the sound of armored feet.

Guess it's time to meet with the guy whose house I'm staying in.

The door opens, and Galahad walks in, followed by Mordred and a fairly handsome young Victorian gentleman I don't recognize, presumably my host.

"Oh, excellent, you really are awake." the man says without preamble. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Dr. Henry Jekyll. A pleasure to meet you."

"Charles Flynn. Likewise." Waitasec. Hold the freaking phone. Henry Jekyll? "Wait, aren't you a fictional character?"

"I'm... sorry?" he asks, looking utterly befuddled.

"Dr. Henry Jekyll is a fictional character, from the story The Curious Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, by Robert Louis Stevenson." I look at him carefully. "Also, you're way too young to be the character described in the book. Jekyll was in his fifties."

"I... I'm not sure I..." he stammers, looking as if I'd slapped him.

"Hey! Lay off!" Mordred snaps, stepping between us. "Jekyll's a good guy, all right! I don't care about some book or whatever, he's right here, isn't he? Then he's real!"

"Wait, you aren't a Servant?" I ask, looking at Jekyll curiously.

"No, I'm quite alive and well." he murmurs timidly, still looking quite thoroughly uncomfortable at this line of inquiry.

"And you haven't created the persona of Mr. Hyde?"

"What, I- How did you-" he backs away slightly, and Mordred glares at me.

'Flynn, drop it, you're being rude.'

"My apologies. That was rude of me." I offer up. In hindsight, I should not have leapt straight into social interaction straight after waking up. I'm terrible at it when I haven't had time to prep myself, going at people like they're pinatas instead of ATMs.

"I... need to go," Jekyll babbles, darting away.

"Jekyll, wait!" Mordred calls, shooting me a dirty look before chasing after him.

I... I really fucked that one up, didn't I?