flightworks | [Fate/ninth heaven] Vagrant Grail Cadenza; unlimited.

Masterlist and readme are here.

unlimited.

—This is the story of someone dear to me.

In the end, he kept moving simply because he did not know what else to do.
He could not stand still when so much sacrifice and so much grief had bought his survival up until now, and so he would keep moving.
Abandoned, betrayed, and having failed to save the people he loved the most—he still had his responsibilities as a ruler.
And—as long as there were people at his back who would support him and rely upon him, he had no recourse but to plunge forward.

The trip to the barren lands of the northeast was brutal.
The princess’ army was in hot pursuit, and the princess herself made as much trouble for him as she possibly could.
It would lower their effectiveness, but the young emperor had no choice but to leave his generals to guard the path behind him in clusters.
If he could not complete the ritual and gain a perfect failsafe, then there was no meaning in coming this far.

It was a combination of stubbornness and fear of letting his loved ones down.

…Even though he had ordered them all to fall back when necessary.
He would not know until much later that there were many who stayed and fought until their lives bled out on the blades of the princess’ soldiers, who died for love of him.

The young emperor reached the old temple in the heart of the wastelands.
Instructing his men to contain the princess outside, he went in alone and began the ritual that would create a sacrifice.
…Eventually, there were sounds of fighting, and he was interrupted halfway by a runner who told him that the princess’ backup had already arrived and were fleeing the valley with her.

The young emperor left the temple in a great charge, but the royal army was already too far away to catch.
The younger of the twins had attempted to stall them, and had been wounded terribly; his priority had to be her survival.
…And the ritual couldn’t be left halfway done.
His mind had been made up already.
…This ritual would ensure that he should have a last resort, if the princess ever attacked his country.
The young emperor would gain further power as a demon by his choice, but more importantly, he would be able to accomplish something important with his life and his death if she ever got that far.
He vaguely foresaw that if such a time came that he must complete this ritual, then all the people he loved would most likely already be dead.
…If that was the case.
Then he could give his duties as emperor over to a higher power.
No one would shoulder such a burden but him.
He had had more than enough of sacrifices in his name.
…He was not a greedy conqueror, nor was he an arrogant tyrant.
The young emperor was a knight at heart, and believed in the creed that would one day make the king of knights the beautiful ideal of all heroes.
That the ruler of a country exists to lead and protect, and that the ruler must give their entire self to protect the people.

If the time ever came that the princess had slain all that he loved.
If the time ever came that the princess pointed her sword past his capital towards the town where he was born and raised, and threatened his people with him the only one left to defend them.
Then he would gladly surrender his life, in the prayer that his ancestor would answer him with a miracle.

The young emperor returned to his country.
One of his dear friends—the knight had died to see him safe, betrayed by kin.
Two of his people had betrayed him in that battle; the former royal soldier due to a grudge and the knight’s sister for the sake of stopping her brother.
Many of his soldiers had been slain, and the younger of the twin girls had been brutalized and would not be able to take to the battlefield for quite a long time.
Still, only a week after the catastrophic battle, the royal army moved out again.
They headed not for the empire’s border, but for a land far to the west.
The elder of the valkyrie girls explained to him that the sword, the kingdom’s greatest weapon, could only be fully utilized by a crowned sovereign; the princess must be seeking the sword’s hidden power in order to destroy them once and for all.

…And so the young emperor mobilized all of his troops that could still do battle, and headed for the scorching lands of the west.
When he arrived at the holy diocese at the edge of the continent, the princess was already departing for the island that only royal blood could enter.
…He knew that his valkyrie bodyguard was a royal bastard child, even if she had never explained to him in detail.
He dispatched her after the princess, while he and his troops would do battle with the princess’ backup so that he could dispatch her personally should she come back unscathed.

As an effect of the ritual, the young emperor was now more demon than human.
He trampled the battlefield in a glorious attack, and all of the royal army could barely restrain him in his new power.

…But the price was that he had unbalanced his body again, and undermined what little stability he had gained over the last three years.
In the height of battle.
The young emperor suddenly coughed up blood and began to falter.

The royal army knew not what was going on, but they at least understood that they had an advantage, and pressed it.
The young emperor rallied his people and his collapsing body and tried to fight them back, but it was of little use.
Though the spasms wracking his body were not a complete inversion impulse, on the inside he was a terrible mess.
…In the end, he simply collapsed.
His personal guard formed a barricade between him and the advancing royal soldiers, but at that time his sister’s aerial unit arrived.
As she had many times before, she had sensed the imbalance of his blood, and had come to rescue him.
…The last thing that the young emperor saw before he passed out was his sister’s face.

After that, everything was a long and terrible fever dream.
The prophet who had always been in charge of calming the young emperor’s body was no longer of this world, and so all that he could do was wait for the sickness to end on its own.

He was too ill to lift his own body for weeks on end.
…He thought, in his delirium, that the people he loved stood at his bedside and discussed distressing matters.
He thought that the voices around him disappeared one by one.

When he finally awoke.
The young emperor was told by his people that his borders had fallen under the princess’ assault, and that the old general who had trusted in him and that his spymaster had died as heroes, fighting to keep the empire safe.
The troops remaining to him were the two valkyrie sisters, both of whom were healthy enough to do battle; his master of ballistics, who was hard at work arming the castle for a final assault, using the magical weapons confiscated from the long-ago feuding magicians and a theoretical formula drafted by the departed prophet; and his sister, who was still in the field, trying to save the civilians.
He was told that a saint had risen amongst the common people, and attempted to gather all those with able bodies in an effort to drive out the royal army.

The princess had slaughtered her and all of her soldiers, not even caring that she fought against untrained militia with no real knowledge of how to swing a sword.

His sister was still out in the field, doing what he would have done and fighting for the sake of the people.
The young emperor, not quite well enough to ride forth and aid her, paced the corridors of his obsidian castle.
He ordered evacuation plans drawn up, contacted the distant city where he had been born, and had confirmation that the trade city would accept the refugees.
He organized his forces for the battle that would surely come, and made sure that the three women who remained with him understood their roles.
At the same time, he paced and he prayed.

…Finally.
A messenger from the front lines reached him.
His sister’s forces had been defeated, he was told.
Every soldier had fought brilliantly to her death, he was told.
His sister was among the slain, he was told.

He bowed his head.
The young emperor closed his eyes and dismissed the messenger as kindly as he could.
…He waited for the sound of her footsteps to disappear, and allowed his body to bow down in grief, his voice to warp with tears.

She had still been little more than a child, although she hated being called one.
She had had too many bitter experiences of being defined by her youth, and assumed to be little more than a burden because of it.
But she had had a long life ahead of her.
…She had spent years homeless, searching for him, without even the power of her blood to protect her; they had crossed paths and not realized each other’s identities and gone their separate ways, and even when the prophet had brought them back together they had gone on in ignorance for quite some time.
It should have been obvious, now that he thought about it.
They looked quite alike, and even his sister had never put the truth together.
The prophet had theorized once that it was a side effect of the seals on their blood, something like brain damage that prevented the realization from taking place.
She had had three years at his side, but it wasn’t enough.
They should have had longer together, grown powerful at each other’s side and led the country with the brand of their power.
She was the only blood relative he had ever had who valued him without asking for anything in return.

Three years wasn’t enough.
Three years of peace, and it wasn’t enough.
Wasn’t that what all of this had been for?
A warm summer evening, a comfortable place with friends and loved ones, a sense of trust like that fleeting dream—
But no matter how much he reached out for that dream, it kept vanishing like soap bubbles.

How much of this conclusion was inevitable?
How much of this conclusion had he caused directly?
The young emperor was tired of fighting, tired of thinking, and the blame weighed him down and threatened to douse the fire in his heart.
He had lost friends, family, those who relied on him above all else, the person he had loved more than anything in the world—
And he grieved for them, and he cursed his own powerlessness, and he cursed the foolish girl who blindly carried out her birthright of destruction.

His face was hard and tearstained as he gathered his men and confronted the princess’ army from atop the city gates.

The girl stood on the distant ground and called to him to surrender unconditionally.
That if he did as he was told, she would no longer harm his citizens.
He heard the implicit threat like a blade against his throat.
…What of his soldiers, then?
Did she simply expect him to bow down for her to let her cut off his head, and take his place to run this country into the ground again?

He told her to leave his land or die.
When she tried to protest, questioned if she found him untrustworthy, he cut her off.
They had nothing to say to each other.
He had attacked her country; this was hard fact that could not be changed.
To punish him, she had razed his.
…And so there was nothing left to say.
She could turn and leave, or she could finish the job, but he would never give up.

The battle started after that.
The young emperor immediately began directing the evacuation of the castle.
…If the princess was able to break through the gates somehow, there would be very little time to get the civilians out afterward.

But before he could progress to evacuating the people of the town, there was a great explosion from the direction of the city gates.
…The princess’ army was already spilling into the capital.

The two girls waded into the streets to occupy them.
From the castle steps, the young emperor directed the exodus of his people.
To give an example, it was quite like he was trying to hold a bursting dam closed with his own two hands.
Too many of his people were dead, and the princess’ army was still at near to full strength.
He had to prioritize the civilians before he moved to aid his soldiers, but without his backup it was inevitable that they would not hold for long.

And finally, the younger of the twins perished under the princess’ sword.
The elder of the valkyries, the only person he had left to stand at his side, made to gather the soldiers and attack her sister’s murderer in a suicide charge, but he called to her from the castle steps.
She was wild with grief and responded rebelliously to his orders to fall back, but when he mentioned that it was time to fall back on their last resort, she became subdued and obeyed him.

The princess’ troops chased them into the empty palace.
The young emperor gathered his men to hold them at bay while the valkyrie regrouped her platoon, but with only his soldiers against a full army, he was not able to hold out for long.
…Right at the point that it was becoming too dangerous to remain in the princess’ way, the valkyrie rallied to his defense, and he had his troops fall back in order to give first aid and reform the battle lines.
But as it had been with him, the valkyrie could not hold the princess’ army back indefinitely.
When he sensed that she was in trouble, he gave his injured troops orders to flee the castle without him, and ran to aid his last surviving friend.

…Before he could reach her, the girl fell.

She called out to him in a fading voice.
Her words contained no bitterness or blame.
She thanked him warmly for sheltering her and showing her kindness.
She asked him to complete the revenge against the kingdom that had abandoned her, as she and her sister no longer could.
…The valkyrie passed away, and finally left him on his own.

His body wanted to bow down and collapse.
The despair was already so heavy that he could not possibly raise his head ever again.
…All that he had loved was ruined now.
The people that he depended on to be able to make it through each day had all gone beyond his reach, and he was finally alone, as he had not been since his earliest memories.
He couldn’t bring them back with victory.
…He could not see himself being able to survive without them.

But—he still had the power left to avenge them.
And if he fell here, the people would be helpless against the princess’ invasion.
So the young emperor held tightly to his weapon and raised his head.

“I won’t accept an end like this.”

He spoke those words, and relinquished all control over his demon’s blood.
In that moment, the empty castle ignited, becoming a mirror of the barren, burning plains that he had always held in his heart.
He could no longer think.
All of the young emperor’s senses were warped and vague, and only the physical sensations of battle were clear.
He roared like a beast, or like his ancestor the demonic dragon, and twisted and fought against the army that even now attempted to strike him down.

…But even relinquishing all trace of his humanity, the young emperor was just one man fighting against an entire army.
The princess and her soldiers scored his body with their weapons, painting the castle floor with his blood and damaging several vital organs.
…This time, there would be no one coming to save him, and his body and his mind and his heart were all irreparably broken anyway.
The young emperor could feel his body beginning to shut down, his vision going indistinct and his breathing coming with difficulty.
But that was just as well.
The young emperor gathered what was left of his strength and ran into the shrine at the depths of the castle.

…The ritual he had enacted in the distant battleground made it so that one sacrifice in this shrine would resurrect his ancestor.
With the princess’ escape, the young emperor had not allowed anyone else to shoulder the burden of becoming the sacrifice, and had taken on the role personally.
As long as he died at the altar before the abyss, the demon god would be revived.
His ancestor would rise up and reclaim this land, destroy the enemy, and rule where he no longer could.

He carried his failing body towards the abyss.
…But the princess followed him into the shrine alone, still grasping her sword.

He was dying, and the pressure of the god’s presence made it difficult for her to move.
It would barely constitute a battle, and certainly did not match the level of the carnage they had wrought against each other before.
They brandished their weapons and grappled with each other feebly, until finally she struck him down.

His body collapsed in the middle of the shrine.
He felt suddenly awake, and stared at the princess from where he knelt on the ancient stone.

The princess let her sword come to rest beside her.
With a pained expression, she spoke to him.
She spoke of how she fought for the world, and her desire to use her power to protect.
An odd—sensation.
It had only just occurred to him that she was still very young, probably about the same age that he had ascended the throne.
…She had not had a mentor to explain to her the nature of power, nor had she been able to grow up knowing the varied shapes of injustice as he had.
She might desire peace and justice, but her upbringing in such a skewed culture was getting in her way and preventing her from using her power effectively.
He wondered how long it would take for her, and how many times that she would lose her way as she tried to do right by the world she had conquered.
All that he knew for certain was that her power was great, and that as she was now, he would not be able to come to terms with her in the time he had left.

The young emperor smiled.
Perhaps he took the princess off guard, because she fell silent and stared at him with a troubled expression.
The smile on his face was gentle and sad.
It was slightly wry, as though he mocked himself and simultaneously laughed at the irony in her earnestly proclaiming ideals that they shared.

…He closed his eyes and sighed in the very end.
He had run through the days of his life with all his strength.
He had done everything that he could think of to achieve his goals, obtained many things, and lost many things.
Feelings of frustration and sadness still lingered over the ruin of this end.
Even so.
Perhaps it was stubborn and foolish, but he thought in the end that there were things that he could be proud of having created, and fixed, and loved.
He had wanted to be with his people for longer.
He had wanted to love everyone around him so much more, and help so many more people.
Had he managed to do enough?
Had he been able to make anything really change for the better?
…He had run through his twenty years without turning back even once.
It was impossible to know anything for sure.
…He grieved for the lives lost, and his own weakness and inability to save his people.
But even in his frustration and his pain.
He did not want to believe that everything he had done was mistaken.

…He had lived, and he prayed that something of his efforts, of his feelings for the people would survive him.
That his love would leave marks on the world as surely as the footprints he had tread.
He had done the best that he knew how.
He was proud to have met and loved all those who had gone before them.
…If nothing else, he was glad for that.

The young emperor closed his eyes and died.
As if setting down some great burden, the young emperor died with a smile on his face.

“—Ah.”
…I push myself into a sitting position as soon as I wake.
My face is already wet with tears, and even if I wipe them away, they simply won’t stop.
This isn’t good.
It isn’t good, but warm tears keep falling down my cheeks like rain.

“That dream was—”
My voice is shaking.
Noticing that makes me feel like I’m detached from my body.
It feels like I’m making an observation about someone else.
That’s how much of a given it is for my voice to shake right now.

I don’t know what I’m feeling.
Watching Gulcasa’s dying face, seeing him hold on to his pride and give up on all the things he dreamed of and wanted to do—
Part of it is anger at him, I think.
I’m angry, because I don’t want him to say or think such stupid things.
But there is also guilt, because he wouldn’t have met such an end if not for me, and deep sadness. It’s all a great agonized mess, and it feels like my heart is tearing itself apart.

My body feels light and alert, and I am warm and in a safe place.
But even though my physical condition is much better than it has been in a very long time, it hurts so much that I just don’t know what to do.
…Because Gulcasa always has to be shining brightly.
Because if Gulcasa can’t live with the pride and majesty that I have always loved about him, I won’t know what to do anymore.
Selfishly.
Even though I know how things turned out after my death, the Gulcasa in my heart was always standing tall and unbroken, a symbol of shelter and of charity.
He should have—had more time.
It’s unfair to him and to everyone, the way that I have him now.
It’s stupid to believe so, maybe, but I can’t help but feel as though Gulcasa would have been savior to so much if he had lived a full life.
He is alive now in a manner of speaking as my Servant, but he won’t be anyone’s savior but mine ever again.
I’m selfish, and so that is enough for me.
…But even so—I know it’s not fair.

“—I’m so sorry.”
I hide my face in my hands and finally say it out loud.

Those words are all I have to offer.
…I know that it isn’t enough.
The star that disappeared from the sky won’t ever return.
But even so.
All I can do is acknowledge that what happened was wrong.

“…Nessiah.”
By the time I realize it, Gulcasa is standing in the doorway.
I’m sitting up in bed, in my room in Roswell’s house, and Gulcasa has come back in after being absent for my awakening.
…Oh.
This is bad.
I don’t want him to see the state I’m in and ask questions.

“…Nessiah.”
But it’s too late to try to hide my face now.
……I must really be a sight, with my face all red and sticky with the traces of tears.
I don’t know what to say.
…I’m tired, and confused because I’ve barely woken up, and anyhow the dream is still so vivid that I don’t know if I can actually come up with some kind of passable excuse.

“—”
But Gulcasa doesn’t ask.
He crosses the room and puts his arms around me, holding me tightly.
My cheek and my arm are pressed against his chest, and I can vaguely feel the sensation of his heartbeat against my fingertips.

Gulcasa is very solid.
He is here with me now, half-incarnate.
He is half-alive.
Even if it’s only a temporary body made by my prana and the Grand Grail’s pre-prepared vessel, it is solid and warm.
The arms that support and cradle me are as kind and as implacable as they have always been.

“Hey.”
Gulcasa lifts me up with one arm and touches my face with his free hand.
He touches my cheeks softly but firmly, and wipes them dry.
His facial expression is almost neutral, but there’s a little bit of tension at the corners of his mouth that betrays his worry.

“…I’ll be all right.”
I don’t think that I could adequately explain what I’m feeling right now, so this is really all the explanation that I can give.
I wrap both my arms around Gulcasa’s shoulders, lean against him, and close my eyes so that I won’t have to look at his expression.

“I see…”
Even so, his voice sounds pensive, like he’s not sure how far he can get away with prying.
Perhaps he already has some inkling of why I’m acting like this, as he’s experienced some of my memories in his dreams as well.
“—Anyhow, would you like to take a bath? I think you might feel better if you can get clean.
“You went out like a light in the middle of the trip home, so all I could do last night was sponge you off a little so that you wouldn’t get sick from sleeping all dirty.”

“…Oh, that isn’t a bad idea.”
I try to smile.
Gulcasa lets me down, and I pick up a new set of clothes and head to the bathroom on my own two feet.

There isn’t enough time to really take a soak, but even just being able to wash my hair and my face is refreshing.
I stretch out the muscles in my legs, towel off, and get dressed.

Downstairs.
Gulcasa and Roswell are in the kitchen.
“—Where is Yggdra?”

Roswell comes to the counter and says good morning, and smiles bitterly.
“She’s still recovering in the summoning circle downstairs.
“I’m going to bring some food for her later, but for right now I don’t want to push her.
“She was still injured when we went to rescue you, and the injuries on top of that were really too much for her to deal with.
“……Even once the outside of the wounds heals, I think that just moving around and staying in solid form is going to be all that she can handle for a while. We’re not going to be able to assist you in the battle tonight.”

I breathe out.
Honestly, it’s about what I was expecting.
But my body is in good condition right now, and I have allies who will fight at my side nevertheless; this is all I can ask for.

“…Oh. Come to think of it, where is—”
I haven’t seen her yet.
But her presence is in this house despite that, so it seems odd that I haven’t stumbled across her until now.

As if understanding my question even when I haven’t finished it, Roswell smiles a little and points to the living room.
I turn around.
Avenger—Meria is stretched out on the sofa.

She lies on her back with a blanket thrown over her.
She’s tall, so she takes up the full length of the sofa with her head and shoulders cushioned on the pillows propped against one armrest and her feet crossed at the ankles on the other.
There must not have been nightwear that fit her, because even though she’s asleep she’s wearing a black sleeveless shirt and a pair of long pants.
They must have been hers already, because I really get the feeling that Roswell and Yggdra’s clothes would be too small for her.

Meria sleeps as if she hasn’t got a care in the world.
…That’s audacious.
She wasn’t collapsing from exhaustion like me, or like Gulcasa had been the time that he slept on the very same couch, but she still decided to lie down and sleep on a complete stranger’s furniture like she had no fear.
I suppose that with Yggdra out of commission, she judged that Roswell wouldn’t be able to do anything to her and that Gulcasa wouldn’t harm an allied Servant anyway.
That’s a sensible judgment to make, but there’s also a sense of flippancy and a kind of bravery to knowingly making oneself vulnerable in an unfamiliar environment.
…I don’t think I would be able to do the same.

“It’s going to be a while until breakfast, so you can go ahead and wait wherever you like.”
Gulcasa tells me this, so I sit down in a chair in the living room and wait.
The atmosphere is relaxed and easy.
The passage of time is slow and gentle.
…Even so, I can feel the seconds slipping by very acutely, and it feels as if sand is sliding quietly into the lower half of an hourglass.

I can feel a pulse at my fingertips.
The pressure in my body is only a vague echo of what it was yesterday in the false holy land, but it’s there nonetheless.
The summoning has to happen tonight at the latest—or to be precise, early tomorrow morning, after the date changes but before the sun rises.
If not, the prana of the defeated Servants will disappear from inside me as the Grand Grail goes back into hibernation, and the Servants who are not anchored to this world with a contract and sufficient prana will be drawn back to the Throne.
…I can well imagine what will happen if that comes to pass.
Hector will come to find me again, and will likely wait until the opening of a seventh Holy Grail War, to use me as the vessel again and again until he is satisfied.
…And even so, I don’t think that he would let us wait out the night if we wanted to take our chances.
Roswell and Yggdra cannot aid us, but when the time comes, I will head to the Tohsaka workshop of my own free will, and take the chance to obtain my wish.

…It takes a while for breakfast to be finished, but eventually a grand feast is laid out upon the table.
As apparently Yggdra will not be joining us, there are only four places set.
I’m not sure how I’m supposed to go about waking Meria, but she courteously saves me the trouble while Roswell and Gulcasa are still bustling about the kitchen and table.

“—Nice service,” is her first comment, which makes Roswell turn very red.
I nod to her in mock seriousness.
Meria sits leaned forward with her elbows on her knees and a leer on her face, and again I can’t help but find her cavalier air incredible.
If I hadn’t been ill at the time, I don’t know if I would have started off this much at ease in this household.
“Yes.
“Saber’s Master shares a few proclivities with my Gulcasa, and as you might imagine, living in a household with not merely one but a pair of house husbands has its perks.”
“—Hmm.”
The tall Servant folds her arms and nods with a straight face.
“I see, I see.
“So ever since you’ve gotten allies, you got pampered, huh?—Yeah, that must’ve been nice.”

I lift myself to my feet carefully.
The entire house is filled with the scent of warm breakfast.
Time is continuing to pass, but—

“…It is indeed nice.
“So, even if it’s a little bit late—we’re finally fulfilling Gulcasa’s offer to cook for you, and extending the treatment to you for today.”

It feels as though we take our time with the meal, and yet at the same time it is over very quickly.
The dishes are taken to the sink to be cleaned, and even though I know that the food was delicious, the taste does not linger.

“—Then.
“In the time remaining before the final window of action—we need to come up with some kind of plan.”

The air changes.
Roswell is still washing the dishes, but the silhouette of his shoulders is tense.
Both Gulcasa and Meria look at me.
Gulcasa sits still and looks directly at me, and Meria remains in a casual leaned-back position, her gaze focused at me while she tips her head back.

“…My guess is that by the time we arrive at the Tohsaka workshop after midnight, the enemy will already be there.
“He will probably know that I won’t want to waste the chance to have my wish granted either, and may not even bother trying to undo the boundary field upon this place because of that.
“Our enemies will be Caster and her Master.
“Caster is an archangel, and a very powerful one, but aside from that…”

“—If you need to know about her abilities, I can tell you.”
Meria suddenly volunteers the information.
Her disposition has changed, and there is no playfulness or sarcasm to her voice and her pose now.
“She’s a top-class Servant, as you might be able to guess just by looking at her.
“She’s oriented towards magecraft rather than physical combat, but her defense is still very strong and can’t be overwhelmed except by weapons and Noble Phantasms that exceed a certain rank.
“Furthermore, she has three Noble Phantasms—her weapon, her armor, and the spell that serves as her ultimate technique.
“I’ve fought her before, and not just as Servants. We knew each other when we were alive.
“—She and I were born from the same existence.”

Her gaze is bitter.
Meria does not look at me or at Gulcasa, but glares into the distance as if confronting her rival directly.

“—Look, even if you weren’t my Master now, I wouldn’t be able to leave that woman alone.
“From the moment that I was born—no, even longer than that, she’s done nothing but deny my right to exist.
“I don’t care so much about inscrutable relics like the Holy Grail, but she’s the only one I can’t let run around.
“The last time we fought wound up in something like a draw, but… this time won’t be like before.”

She growls silently with the weight of her grudge.
…Hmm.

“As for Caster’s Master.
“…Well, he’s my enemy, so I know his capabilities the best.
“He is already an existence about on parallel with a Servant because of his age and abilities.
“I myself come from the same general era as him, but I’ve lost my original powers and been weakened by being in captivity for so long.
“While I was fighting and struggling to make my way in the world of mortals, he’s had a comfortable seat in the realm of the gods. The most frustrating thing is that he didn’t spend that time resting on his laurels, either, but increasing his political and magical power, and developing new techniques through state-of-the-art materials and experiments.
“So—while I hate to admit it, I’m not really a match for him by myself.
“If I were at the height of my powers and actually had some of my artifacts instead of just my self-developed magecraft, I might stand a chance.
“—Or even if I had a Diviner, I might be able to somehow fight my way through his offensive techniques to be able to strike him down.
“But I don’t, so I simply have to rely upon my Servants or try to prepare a countermeasure in the time that I have.”

…I can’t help but sigh.
“Nessiah.
“—You’re physically able at least, so…”
Even though he knows better, Gulcasa says so half-heartedly as if trying to encourage me.

“It’s no use.
“—Honestly, even if I were overestimating Hector’s ability level, I don’t know if I would be able to face him the way that I am now.
“I need to arm myself mentally, or I might break down the instant the two of us come face to face on the battleground.”

I feel slightly nauseous, just admitting that much.
But it’s true.
The same way that the gods who carelessly threw me away are a source of trauma for me, that man also holds thrall over me mentally.
He treated me as a toy to abuse at the same time that things first fell apart, and then he deliberately searched for me so that he could use me as a convenient experiment after my mistakes in Gulcasa’s time.
He defiled me endlessly, all for his entertainment.
…If I am to be honest with myself—it is a blessing above all blessings that he did not harm me while I was unconscious, the last time that I was his captive.
If I had awakened to discover traces of assault, I might have broken down for good.

To go against that man in a deliberate confrontation means knowing that I will be subject to the same treatment all over again if I lose.
That’s frightening.
Even the thought that he might lay the palm of his hand on my skin makes me feel like vomiting.
I don’t want to go through that again. I am tired of being hurt, of feeling dirty and wanting to shred my mind rather than be aware of even one more moment of his torture.
…And on top of the fear itself is the worry that my fear might paralyze me.
I would do anything to not fall into his hands again, and I cannot risk that my body might suddenly refuse to obey me or that screaming fear might cut off my reason if we were to come into contact again.
The last time I was alone in his presence, I lost consciousness just because of that fear.

So—giving myself special means of attack and defense has more meaning than just making sure that I might be at a level of power where victory against him is possible.
Without some manner of reassurance that I will not absolutely lose, I cannot stand against Hector mentally.

So—it would have been preferable to go into the battle with as many allies as possible.
Caster will take time and effort, and I may have to leave dispatching her to one ally while going ahead to finish things.
If so, then I need both a means of arming myself, and someone beside me to fight with me and to protect me if I collapse mentally.
Roswell and Yggdra would have been superb for that role.
With her innate magic resistance, Yggdra at her full strength could have deflected at least some of Hector’s magecraft and provided a distraction, and as a healer, Roswell would have been able to support me mentally and emotionally until I could join the battle again.
But Yggdra is incapable of battle after receiving so many injuries.
Even if she regenerated as much as possible today, I know that she would only be at a quarter capacity of her full power in the very best case scenario.

But this isn’t as terrible as it could have been.
Because—Gulcasa and I are not alone.
Meria is with us.
Both of my shoulders are branded with the holy mark.
Carrying them both—granted this new pair of wings, I will have to see for myself if I will be able to fly… huh.

“…Neither Gulcasa nor Meria possesses innate magic resistance.
“To begin with, Meria’s irregular class means that she doesn’t have any innate skills.
“But, even if the situation is not ideal, it is far better than the worst case scenario.
“—Two battles will have to be fought tonight.
“I am a more competent magus than that Yellma.
“Even serving as Master to both of you, you are at your maximum capacity as Servants.
“Therefore—one of you will have to handle Caster, while one of you will come with me in order to confront Hector.”

…If I were to be honest.
Gulcasa is best suited to battle Caster.
He is the stronger Servant, and besides, as long as his enemy is a Servant—no, as long as his enemy is armed with a Noble Phantasm or a grand ritual, he can blow it away with his greatest trump card and defeat his opponent.
Meria also has an extremely powerful Noble Phantasm, but she might have trouble matching Caster in a battle of endurance.
Even with my power boosting her abilities, she might not be able to defeat Caster.

All the same, this is opposite from the feelings of my Servants.
Meria has a personal grudge against Caster, and less investment in fighting Hector.
Gulcasa has enmity towards Hector for abusing me, and to him Caster is just another opponent.
I can’t be sure that they will obey my judgment.

“…Anyhow, we can decide that part later.
“Once I begin the Heaven’s Feel, I would be extremely vulnerable to attack, so it is important to defeat both Caster and her Master.
“There are still only five Servants defeated, and at least six need to be processed to make the Holy Grail actually usable.”
Seven would be ideal, of course, but I can’t force Yggdra to just relinquish the prana that makes up her physical vessel.

“Then—for the actual battle against Caster’s Master, what will you do?
“If he’s that powerful, then just overwhelming him with two against one might not work unless there’s a real plan.”
Meria points out the truth bluntly.

“…I know.
“There isn’t time to circle around in front of him and lay traps in the Tohsaka workshop, as he may have a familiar there for observation or even be there in person already.
“…No, I need a weapon that can compete with that man.
“It’s just frustrating that I have to rely on a method that’s so unreliable.”

“Nessiah?”
Gulcasa is staring at me.
…It appears that I will have to be more specific.

“—Look, my strengths as a magus all lie in innovation and invention.
“I don’t have the time or the freedom to create an entirely new spell or branch of magic in time for the fight, so that leaves me with only the path to prepare an artifact.
“…And materials in this age that has already departed from fantasy are weak and subpar. Even if I were able to get the highest quality of pure metals and jewels, I require orichalcum and mithril, and pure gemstones that have already been treated multiple times and imbued with bountiful prana; I would need blueprints and magical herbs to use in tempering, and the tools of a forge.
“There’s no way that I could get my hands on things like that at this day and age. Back in the time of Ancardia, I had a temple that was filled with appropriate materials, but now I don’t even have so much as my own atelier. I couldn’t even create my own workshop here, in another magus’ territory.
“Which leaves me with one path.”

While Gulcasa and Meria continue to watch me curiously, I call out to Roswell.

“Is Yggdra in the condition where she will be able to manifest herself?”
Roswell turns the sink off and stares at me as if bewildered.
“—Probably, but she won’t be able to leave the basement yet…”
“It’s all right; as long as she can take solid form, she doesn’t even have to leave the summoning circle.
“If I want this to work, I need a reference.”
“…?”
Roswell tilts his head to the side.
I stand up.
Time is already running out, and doubtless I’m going to need some rest time between this endeavor and our departure.

“—Eh, my Noble Phantasm?!”

Yggdra stares at me with wide eyes.
I stand across from her in the basement, with Gulcasa and Meria on either side of me and Roswell watching from the stairwell.

“I believe that I will be able to take it out, but using it would be impossible…”
“That’s fine.
“…I just need to be able to look at it for a while.”

“Nessiah, what are you doing?”
There is suspicion in Gulcasa’s voice even as he asks, so I’m sure he must have some idea already.
But the others surely don’t understand, and it wouldn’t do well to keep this a secret when I may need help.

“If I can’t create a weapon from scratch, my only option is to start with a copy of something I already know how to make.
“—If you’ve fought the Riders or against Lancer, you might have seen that all of their Masters were capable of derived forms of projection, which has given me the idea.”
“—Projection?”
Roswell sounds entirely dumbfounded.
I’m certain that a magus of his standing at least knows what projection is, and so that must not be what’s confusing him.

“I have the appropriate Magic Circuit, but I’m not any good at it, so I can use all the help I can possibly get.
“I just need some practice time.”

“But—wait.”
Roswell shakes his head.
“Projection is creating an object from the magus’ mental image.
“As long as imagination and belief are strong enough, there shouldn’t be any problems, but…”
“That’s going by an ordinary standard.
“I am capable of projection magic, but there isn’t any way that I could ever work it successfully—it’s a matter of my nature being incompatible.
“I’m a maker. I create real artifacts, real things. My magic depends on absolute and intimate knowledge of every detail of a thing I work with, down to each individual material it’s composed of.
“So unlike an ordinary projection magus, who would be battling their own mentality and Gaia trying to deny the object they have made, I will instinctively deny an object unless it is duplicated perfectly—and sometimes even then.
“As a creator, I cannot project objects of pure imagination solidified into prana because as long as I know that they are not real, I will deny them from my own subconscious.
“Therefore.
“If I wish to rely upon such an unstable trump card as projection, I must strive for the greatest possible degree of verisimilitude, through practice with the actual object before my eyes.”

“—”
Silence from my audience.
…Somehow it feels judgmental, as if I’m being accused of the sheer stupidity of my course of action.
I know it’s stupid without their telling me so.

“—And so you’re going to try projecting Saber’s Noble Phantasm as your weapon to use against Caster’s Master.”
Meria says so, as if to confirm it.
She whistles softly when I don’t deny her words.
“Well, I guess nobody can accuse you of lacking confidence.”

Yggdra shakes her head.
“…According to our previous conversations—Nessiah was the one to create my Noble Phantasm in the first place.
“If he has that level of power, then I would expect that this is a natural course of action for him, and not overconfidence or disrespect towards Heroic Spirits in general.”

“Hmm, is that so.”
Meria keeps looking on in a nonplussed fashion.

“—I will cooperate.”
Yggdra says so definitively.
“I believe that that is fair of you to ask, as we’re allies but I cannot actually fulfill the terms of the alliance and be of help in the final battle.”
She hesitates.
“…Under the circumstances, I would even consider lending you the Noble Phantasm itself, but… I believe that as it has manifested as my Noble Phantasm, it’s no longer connected with you.
“Under such conditions, only I should be able to wield it, and even if one of my ancestors were to be summoned into this war alongside me, they wouldn’t be able to activate it if they held it.”

“That’s approximately my understanding of things, too.”

I sit down on the floor.
Yggdra sits down cross-legged in front of me and holds her hands out flat, as if mimicking the lotus position.
Her great broadsword—the Gran Centurio appears balanced atop her hands.

“—This is going to take a great deal of concentration.
“I’m going to be at this for a while, and so I’m sorry to impose in this way, but I need either Meria or Gulcasa to remain here with me.
“That is—if I become exhausted and don’t realize it, I will probably need someone to steady me before I collapse, and anyway I will need someone to monitor my physical condition so that I don’t drain myself too much.
“I will lose track of time after this, and so someone will need to stop me at around the time dinner preparations begin.
“I do need to eat lightly in preparation for the battle, but I may be nauseous for a while after this procedure.”

As I give out instructions, I notice that Gulcasa is staring at me with something like horror in his eyes.
His face is extremely pale, and his fists are clenched tightly.

“…Nessiah.”
Even the tone of his voice is strange.
“When you say that you need someone to monitor your physical condition, you don’t mean…”
And for some reason, his question trails off there.
Gulcasa seems incredibly uneasy for some reason.
His eyes are very wide, he is white-faced, and he does not seem to know how he should shift his weight.

“…?
“If you’re asking to make sure that there’s not going to be any undue physical stress on me, then my only answer is that there shouldn’t be.
“I’m not so unskilled a magus that I would do myself a serious injury in practice. I’ll just be concentrating so intensely that I won’t be able to notice if something happens, and so I need someone to alert me if there’s any sudden change.”

“—That’s not exactly it.”
Gulcasa evades my gaze with a complicated expression.
“It’s because—this sword is…
“Let me rephrase my question. Projecting this sword in perfect detail—isn’t going to cause you physical harm, will it?”
A soft question like he’s begging me to tell him no.
……Oh.
That’s what this is about.

I try to smile in reply.
…I’m an idiot.
If Gulcasa is so worried about this that he looks like he’s going to be sick, then something must have happened to give him cause to worry so much.
“Again—there shouldn’t be.
“I’m not recreating the sword. I don’t have the time or the materials, and the toll on my body would be far too stressful for me to be able to go into battle immediately afterward.
“Besides, a newly created Gran Centurio would lack the power of a duplication, which would defeat the purpose.
“It’s projection, so I’ll just be constructing a fake copy of it.”

…Gulcasa doesn’t look completely convinced.
But I suppose that’s only reasonable, from his perspective.
…I can’t know how he felt, if he saw that in my memory.
I can’t know, but—seeing the anxiety on his face now makes me regret that he had to witness something that gruesome.

“—So then, I guess you’re going to want to stay here and look after him?”
Apparently attempting to get the discussion back on track, Meria turns to Gulcasa.
…But Gulcasa shakes his head minutely with a pained smile.
“…I couldn’t. I would be too afraid to watch and would intervene right away.
“You should watch him instead.
“—Because you’re like we are—well, I’d be able to relax if you did it.”

Gulcasa goes back up the stairs as if he’s running away.
…Ah.
I kind of want to go after him, but I know it’s useless.

Meria tilts her head to the side.
“—What was that all about?”
Even Roswell and Yggdra look rather bewildered.
…I shake my head.

“…It’s all right.
“He knows how the original sword was made—that’s all.
“The rest of you probably should not know the cost to me at that time; it’s not a happy story to tell.”

The three of them exchange looks.
As long as they are all aware that my actions right now will not change no matter how many protests I meet, that’s fine.

“Then, I suppose I’ll go and keep Gulcasa company.”
Roswell bows his head.
“I’ll come back down before dinner starts, so take your time until then.”

After that, it’s just the three of us left in the basement.
Yggdra sits quietly in the summoning circle with her Noble Phantasm in her hands, and I sit on the cold floor before her.
Meria finds a cushion and eases herself down onto it, sitting with her legs stretched out.

“…If anything out of the ordinary happens to my body, or if I seem to be about to pass out, just shake my body lightly and I’ll know to stop.”

Leaving those directions, my mind is clear and my will is set.

“—Then. Let’s begin.”
I give my senses over to my coursing Magic Circuit with a sensation like a firing hammer being cocked—

(part two)

[Fate/ninth heaven] Vagrant Grail Cadenza; unlimited. - part 1 [route III, day 16]