The entire Chaldea was abuzz.
Ritsuka could feel it in the air. And well, see servants discussing something animatedly walking around the halls.
She didn't know why, or if the increased number of people knocking on her door was in any part related to it, but she didn't dislike the atmosphere.
Honestly, the attention was a bit overwhelming. But it kept the gloom at bay, so she wasn't complaining. Besides, that made her feel a little bit better.
A soft melody brought her out of her musings.
"Hum, hum-hum-hum, hum-hum…" latched onto her hand, a foxy caster hummed a simple and peaceful tune.
Her eyes glided over the cheerful, kimono-clad frame, a smile unconsciously slipping on her face.
"Thanks for escorting me, Tamamo," she said.
"It's no problem at all, Master!" Tamamo replied cheerfully.
The smile widened a fraction.
She'll have to thank whoever set all of them up.
And kick them in the shin. It was still a bit too forceful for her tastes.
Going from 'not functioning at all', to 'barely functioning' after the chat with Roland and then to 'get the fuck up or I'll force feed you the fun' made her experience a wild emotional rollercoaster, but it worked, somehow.
Poorly, but worked.
Whoever did this, knew all too well that she couldn't really say no, when it came to requests from her servants.
While her thoughts passed by, they've already reached their destination.
"Master," unusually serious, Tamamo leveled her with a tender and caring look, "should I stay here for you?"
Ritsuka smiled with her eyes. Caster was always the type to be considerate.
But she felt like this was the kind of talk she needed to face on her own.
"I'll be fine, Caster."
The avatar of Amaterasu closed her eyes and nodded, slowly.
Then, she locked her in a tight embrace.
"All you need to do is call me. Do your best."
After the encouragement, she broke the embrace and gifted Master with a tender smile, before turning into blue particles. Leaving Ritsuka one on one with the door to the infirmary.
…
Breathe in… breathe out.
She wasn't given too much time for self-inspection, but the conclusion she came to was very simple.
Everything will remain the same. She wouldn't treat Mash any differently, just like Roman asked. She wouldn't take her off the active roaster, as Roland asked.
Honestly, the thought of leaving her out was repulsing to the Master.
But she swore to herself to make Mash's life better.
All they had was time and Ritsuka was determined to make it the best of their lives.
"*Sigh*. Let's go."
She pushed the button and entered the room.
*****
Cafeteria was a place of convergence for many.
Some just wanted to eat something good. Others came here to chat and meet people.
Roland didn't know why his legs brought him here. No, it's more like he knew why, but…
"Right, I still don't have a freaking stomach," he said, exasperated with himself, looking down at his belly.
Yeah, that was a problem.
Roman said that it was going to reform in a bit, now that the generator had been hooked up to the system. It didn't make it any easier when he habitually strolled into the cafeteria for the third time.
"Feeling rather smooth brained over there?" came a snarky question from a bit away and the fixer's eyes clashed with Emiya's.
"Well, we all have our moments, don't we?" Roland said, taking a seat in front of Archer.
He might as well have a chat while he's here, right?
Archer looked thoughtful for a moment.
"You might be right."
"I am right," Roland nodded with undue importance.
"Yours are a bit too frequent, though," Emiya pointed out mercilessly.
"Give me a break. It's my first time not having a stomach. I can't and won't get used to it," Roland said resolutely.
"Well, how about you rub the two brain cells you have together and just think about it? I'm starting to get irritated with the skit you put on every time you get here," Emiya opined, not taking any of Roland's bullshit.
"Well, I can just do it without a skit then," Fixer nodded, nonchalantly.
Archer's brow began to tick.
A very self-assured smile crept up Roland's face.
"Chill man, chill. You are too easy to rile up," the smile turned bening and playful, as fixer gestured for Archer to cease.
Archer just shook his head in disbelief. How can this man be so childish?
"If you don't have anything better to do - get out," he stated his ultimatum.
"Mm, no, actually, I have something to ask…" Roland leaned in, getting slightly more serious.
Archer raised his brows in silent askance.
*****
Ritsuka and Mash entered the cafeteria to a very interesting argument.
"In-bone chicken is clearly better," Roland the-junk-food-lover stated.
"No bone is better to my taste," came the evasive reply.
"Oh come on. Fess up, you sound like the kind of guy that thinks that all bread tastes the same."
Silence.
"Please, say sike."
Silence.
"How can you exist?"
"Well, miracles happen. Sometimes, they aren't to be celebrated, though," a haunted look passed Archer's features, as he stared somewhere into the distance.
"Alright," Roland rubbed his forehead,"You at least eat the pizza crusts, right?"
"I don't really eat pizza, but yeah," Archer said, shrugging.
He still couldn't get how a conversation about how to cook kimchi turned into this. He had no reason not to respond, though.
"Oh, I don't!" Ritsuka perked up and skipped to the two.
Roland promptly repositioned himself further. Archer took a cautionary step back.
"Why such a reaction?" Ritsuka deadpanned.
"Don't mind me. I thought I was talking to a decent human being, but, turns out she is a sicko," Roland grimaced with mock-sorrow.
"Okay, first of all - Rude. Second, why'd you do that?" Master relented and her gaze switched to Archer.
"Well," Emiya craned his neck,deep in thought, "My instincts told me to do that."
"Oh really," she arched a brow, and looked at the archer from beneath her bangs. "And what do they say now?"
Archer's face stilled.
"...To go to the kitchen?" asked Emiya, unsure.
"To go to the kitchen," Ritsuka nodded, and Archer withdrew to the kitchen without much fuss. All while a small smile traced his face.
What you needed to know though - Archer likes to have the last laugh.
"Go to hell Master!" came from deep within the Archer's sanctuary, and Ritsuka could only swear.
"This petty punk," she clenched her fist, grinning.
Mash used that as an opportunity to take a seat beside Ritsuka, glasses flashing with light, her overall completion more… relaxed?
"Glad to see you are alright, Mash," Roland was fast to say.
"Thanks, Roland-san."
"Anyway," Ritsuka stole the spotlight. Not before turning to Mash and saying a quick sorry for interrupting. "What's the argument was about?"
"Eh, we kinda went on a tangent. Nothing important. How are you guys doing?"
"Fine. More or less. Actually, was it you I owe the pleasure of almost every servant coming to visit me yesterday? As if they were on schedule."
"Ha-ha," Roland chuckled, unsure.
"Is that a yes or is that a no?" she squinted suspiciously.
"Ha. Kham-khum, Ha."
It was getting increasingly harder to evade the topic.
Ritsuka rewarded him with a dead-eyed stare.
"So what if I was?" Roland's eyes escaped anywhere where Ritsuka wasn't in sight as he scratched the back of his head.
Ritsuka could swear that if another second passed, he would start whistling. Like they were in a cartoon or something.
A smile overtook her, despite how somewhat cross she felt.
"Thanks," was all that she said.
Mash gave them alternating looks of worry and confusion, before a subtle, incomplete understanding reflected in the lavender orbs.
"You could've made it a bit less pushy, though," Ritsuka couldn't just let it go, though.
"Sorry, Ma'am. It won't happen again, Ma'am," Roland, caught in the act, was quick to surrender and admit defeat.
"Well, it's the intent that matters, I guess," Ritsuka twirled the strand of her hair.
"Anyway," she turned serious,"We have a summoning planned after this. Do you wanna come with?"
Roland cupped his chin. His mind returned to the night he had a chat with Rama.
"Sure."
"Great!" she pumped her fist up.
Emiya sensed the lull in the conversation, deciding to deliver the orders.
Ritsuka and Mash had a routine meal they always wanted for breakfast, which just so happened to be…
"Porridge? Really?"
"What? It's good for you," Rituska shrugged.
Mash just nodded in agreement.
"I guess I've never just took you for the kind of person to eat porridge in the morning."
"Ha. What did you expect?"
"I dunno," he started to fiddle in his seat. "Cereal? Maybe some milk?"
"Roland, I'm not ten," Ritsuka deadpanned.
"Well, I'm disconnected with what the youth these days eat."
"Ano, Roland-san, what do you eat in the morning?" Mash redirected the conversation.
"Oh, well, other than me being unable to eat anything right now," he ignored the 'serves you right for making me worried', "Some standard bacon and eggs. Maybe even an omelet. Eggs, mostly. They are easier to get hold of than meat."
Ritsuka leveled him with an impenetrable stare.
"That's rather boring."
"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" Roland asked.
"All I'm saying is…" for a second, a devilish flame lit up in her eyes, "You're a boomer."
"What does that mean?" He switched targets to Mash, knowing that Ritsuka wouldn't respond.
But Master was, clearly, a bad influence on her.
"Boomer," uncharacteristically for the shielder, she said that without much emotion and started to munch on her porridge.
"What the hell is happening…?" Roland could only blink as unfamiliar word struck him, leaving a very sour aftertaste.
Meanwhile, Archer was laughing his ass off in the kitchen.
*****
The summoning chamber was the same Roland remembered it being: dimly lit, spacious and with this aura of mystery around it.
Mystery - perhaps with a capital M. He took a peak at the 'Magecraft for Dummies' written for Ritsuka in the very beginning of her journey and well… Explanations on the subject there were only slightly better than Angela's. You know, minus the cold and merciless terminology and more of the hands-on examples. The only thing it missed were crayon drawings. Although, from what he could remember from the chat with the Library Director, some things related to the subject just didn't add up.
He didn't really care, but left the book for the Librarians inside Keter to copy, just you know, for some reading material later.
Besides, those four were bored out of their mind last time he visited, so he had been supplying them with 'borrowed' books. Not like anyone checks if any of the books are missing, anyway. And if you aren't caught, you are not a thief.
While Roland was having an internal monologue, Ritsuka was already up on the platform, feet firmly planted on the floor, hand stretched out and mind sharp.
" Everything is alright on our part, you may start, " Da Vinci gave a go-ahead and Master nodded, whispering the chant under her breath.
Roland could hardly hear it, not that he needed to, either.
He might have come here on an off-chance that Angelica might be summoned, but he didn't really believe it himself.
Simple logic dictated that out of all the heroes that have been, are, and will be, pulling one specific out of the bunch would be a nigh impossible task.
For Roland, though, even chances like that were satisfactory. So, he watched.
Finally, Mystery stirred around the room, manifesting as a powerful gale, just to coalesce into the middle of the altar where Ritsuka stood.
The circle flashed white, blinding all those observing for a second, only to die out soon after.
"Servant Saber," a very familiar voice said, "My name is Rama. It's an honor to fight by your side again, Master."
Before Ritsuka stood a man of sturdy constitution, a beaming, pleasant smile on his face.
"Rama!" Ritsuka couldn't help herself and lunged at the man.
Saber took that in stride, surveying the room while they hugged.
His eyes landed on Roland and they exchanged short nods as greetings.
The hug was broken soon after, and Rama soon joined Roland near the wall.
Another light dyed the room white, with the intensity of a blazing sun, like it was the first harbinger of the person about to arrive.
Then, a strong pull of mana swirled around the pedestal, and a figure of a tall and thin warrior with a very distinct outfit formed.
"Karna!" Ritsuka's smile now could rival the intensity of the recent flash. It was, however, marred by the slight tremors and the hesitance with which her hand reached out.
Lancer noticed everything, and gently took hold of the hand.
"It's a delight to see you again, Master. Class Lacer. My true name is Karna, but," a pure, albeit small smile played on his lips, "You already knew that."
"What a lady killer," Roland commented, shaking his head in disbelief. Rama could only grin wryly beside him.
"Yes," a shadow overtook Ritsuka's face as she gripped the servant's hand as hard as she could. The shakiness subdued, but wasn't completely gone. "Thank you for coming."
Her voice, vulnerable, but so full of gratitude and thinly veiled guilt, spoke it all.
Roland eyed the two in concern, but Ritsuka seemed to be holding on well, so he opted to give her some space.
The two decided to leave the very personal discussion for later and, yet again, Ritsuka started to chant.
This time around, the air felt a bit more… ancient? Regal, even.
There were no flashing lights, no gusts of wind. The ritual felt controlled, calculated even.
And when a woman in deep purple appeared without much fanfare, her frame exuding elegance and the kind of oppressive, unseen dignity, Roland had to suppress the itch in his brain that told him to take out Durandal. You know, just in case.
Then, she spoke.
"Servant Caster. My name is Medea. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," a hint of playfulness, a touch of allure and that stiffness in the body language - like she expected a violent reaction from the get go.
Which didn't follow.
"Ara, what a cute Master I have here," as soon as the introductions were over, the Caster made a small step forward, chin cupped, eyes below the hood not visible, but clearly set on Ritsuka's face.
"Why, thanks!" Ritsuka wasn't the one to shy away from compliments, "I bet there's something amazing beneath all of this as well."
How Ritsuka could do a full 180 from depressed to flirty in less than five minutes was beyond Roland to comprehend. He could, for one, say that she was completely genuine when she said that.
Caster just covered her mouth to muffle slow and gleeful chuckles.
What bugged him, though, is the name. Medea. He had heard of it. He could swear he did. He just could remember where.
It was then, that the newly summoned servant took a look at the wall where he, Rama and Karna were gathered.
Her gaze slid off the last two without giving them much thought, but then it stayed on him. He caught the sight of the dim blue orbs and the feeling of wrongness went down his spine with a shudder.
It wasn't malicious. At least, he felt it wasn't.
He tapped his finger on the side of his leg, thoughts trickling down his mind.
Something was amiss. Not dangerous, but not quite right.
His sight refocused on the Caster, but she was already engaged in the conversation with Mash.
He decided to shelve those feelings for later. He'll get some of the intel from searching through Chaldea's library.
Regardless of what he finds, though, he'll make up his mind about her after he observes for long enough.
" Let's go for another round and be done for today, " echoed the voice through the intercom and Ritsuka nodded.
Medea approached the group and stayed on the opposite side of the line from Roland. The responses of the other two were subdued, but not negative.
A chant again. Again, Mystery gathered, forming winds, sharp like cutting blades and howling with unseen before intensity.
"It's someone powerful," noted Rama next to him, and sure enough, with an almost deafening *pop*, the circle flashed and a tall, armor-clad figure stood on the pedestal.
"Greetings, Master!" the figure said, voice full of mirth and excitement, "My name is Charlemagne, but, you can just call me Charles, or Charlie or Chuck, it doesn't matter. Let's get along!"
The man - Charlemagne - reached out for a handshake, before retracting it, scratching his temple.
"I think I'm forgetting something… Oh, right, Class is Saber, by the way!" now he offered the hand and Ritsuka readily shook it, a playful grin on her face.
"A pleasure, Charlie. Say," her eyes darted to the wall where, mouth agape, stood Roland, "Have you lost any of your unruly knights lately? Because that guy certainly fits the bill."
She pointed to the guy in a suit, whose worldview seemed to be shattering in real time.
"Charles…?" he muttered, weakly.
There was no chance in hell he wouldn't recognize the strands of white in his hair, or those calm blue eyes…
But this guy was too laid-back. What's with that cheerful attitude? This… this is madness.
Roland remembered this face on a guy much, much more punishing. The Charles he remembered would shoot down anyone brave enough to do something stupid and strong enough for the lesson to stick.
So seeing him giving such a... Happy-go-lucky smile was breaking the mold.
Roland cradled his head in his hands, trying (and failing) to wrap his head around this situation. In fact, he was so absorbed in his misery, he missed the moment when the guy approached him.
"Hm…" Charlie rubbed his chin, the clear, deep blue scanning Roland up and down, "You know, you do feel familiar. Kinda. What's your name, buddy?"
Some deeply ingrained instinct from his office days awoke.
"Roland, Sir," Roland straightened up and answered the question without even thinking about it.
"Roland?" the man's eyes widened and he seized him up, not noticing how respectful the fixer was. "Say, are you perhaps into exhibitionism?"
…Where did that come from?
"No, errr… No, I'm not." Roland got his reflexes under control, because it was clearly a stranger in front of him.
"Hm, hm, hm. Alright, I'll take you over that guy," the King nodded regally. "Although, you kinda look like a thug. Did anyone say you have the face of a thug?"
'You did,' Roland admitted in his mind, 'It was your look-a-like, but you certainly freaking did.'
"So, before I officially install you as one of my Knights, you'll be one of my squires. Sounds good, aye?" he flashed him a small, relaxed smile by the end.
…
"I'd rather not. Sounds like a hassle," was Roland's answer.
"Oh, come on, it'll be fun!"
While Charlemagne was trying to persuade Roland, Ritsuka… was losing her shit, leaning onto Mash.
Yep, this was certainly worth it.
She already knew how she was going to tease the poor Pretender.
She took in some deep breathes and calmed herself. There is still the excursion she needed to take care of.
"Alright, everyone," she clapped her hands, stopping whatever chatter there was, "If you would follow me, I'd show you around the facility."
Everyone nodded, and, as she led them out the door, she couldn't help this feeling of affection blooming in her chest. Confidence filled her step, her eyes flared with surety.
However short their time together may be, Ritsuka would cherish each and every summon, for she was grateful for their help and companionship.
But for now, she had a tour to lead.
*****
The silence of the library was disrupted by a *flop*.
Roland put the book down on the table, expression pensive and eyes - distant.
Medea, from what he managed to glean from books, was quite the character. Even by the City's standards her track record was rather impressive.
Charmed by a god, she helped a sod named Jason on his quests. In some version of her stories she dismembered her brother to stop her father's pursuit, in others it was the aforementioned sod who killed her brother (either way, she didn't bat an eye). Then, she drugged, drove to madness (or whatever) a giant. Then, on one of their stops, she made the king's daughters conspire against him.
From here, things get even more complicated and convoluted. She might have killed her children by accident after being promised by one of the gods that they'd become immortal. That one made Roland wince.
Before that, she got dumped by the despicable sod, who fled off with another woman. In her final show of spite to her ex, she killed the woman with which he fled off (Roland didn't bother with remembering names - they all sounded like a mumbo-jumbo to him) and ran away. Married again, almost poisoned the son of the guy she married, then ran away again.
Anyway, to cut the long story short, Roland made three important points about Medea.
One - she was never really in control of her fate. Throughout the whole story she was either a means to something or a main manipulator to achieve something for someone. Never for herself.
Two - He could relate to that. Not being in control, doing whatever you needed to survive, to achieve your goals. Or someone else's. That's how the City was.
And three…
"Ah, you are here," a velvet voice reached his ears and a figure floated towards the table.
Three - he reminded himself that books are always biased. And when you throw time into the mix - the discrepancies can become very volatile. So his aim would be to see what she really was with his own two eyes. And make sure that the slight twinge in his gut was a false alarm.
Thankfully, the real deal decided to pay him a visit, so he gets the chance to make up his mind.
"Medea," Roland straightened in his chair and tipped the nonexistent hat on his head, while giving a small lopsided smile, "What do I owe the pleasure?"
Her eyes scanned him from beneath the hood, then landed on the book. Her body became all the more rigid, and hands came closer to the body, as if trying to protect herself.
A bout of silence settled, between them. Roland had to avert his eyes in light embarrassment. The woman's timing was very poor. If he had known she was coming, he would've put the damned piece of paper in his gloves instead.
"Well," she asked, her voice calm, bordering on chilling, despite harboring no hostility, "Why don't you ask?"
His eyes alternated between the witch and the book.
"I mean, you don't have to answer if you don't want to," he decided to give her an out, but that was quickly shot down with a glare.
Seems like she wanted to have this topic done and over with. He'd oblige.
"Was everything there true?" he motioned to the thick book.
"Yes," the reply was succinct, detached.
Fixer only gave her a short, noncommittal "Hm".
Another pause. The witch of colchis wasn't really satisfied with this kind of ending for a conversation. Probably having much to ask herself.
"No scorn or pity? Not even an admonishment?" she asked, a thin line of curiosity simmering in her voice.
"Nah," he waved off. "You don't need my pity. As for scorn… Who am I to judge? My body count exceeds yours by quite a bit, I'm pretty sure."
Roland remarked off-handedly, without much emotion, only shrugging a bit. It was an already accomplished fact. He had killed many people. Nothing left to do about it. She had done the same. That can both say a lot about a person and at the same time - nothing at all.
"You are surprisingly upfront about this," she noted and got seated on the chair by his right hand.
"Running around it won't do much good to any of us."
"And? After everything that's been confirmed, what can you say about me?"
"Why'd you wanna know? I'd figured you wouldn't want to touch the subject."
"Your reaction reminded me of someone I held dear. So could you indulge me?"
Roland gave a very long stare, but relented.
"I have absolutely no idea," he admitted easily. "Honestly, books like these, (any books, really) hold so much bias that the only valuable thing I could take away from it is your name and maybe your abilities. Judging who you are as a person…" he made a so-so motion, "Rather unreliable, no?"
She pondered on his words for a bit.
"Then, are you not afraid that I might now hold bias, after finding out that your list of killings is longer than mine?"
"You are free to think whatever," he leaned back on his chair, just to lean back closer to her, "But between you and me - I'd think that you would do the same thing I did."
"Why so?"
"Because just like I don't know what truly happened to you - you don't know why I killed those people."
Medea conceded, "Your logic is sound enough."
You could hear how she didn't quite agree with that, and Roland himself knew that there are quite a few loopholes in there. But the sentence, ultimately, held true.
"My fate was indeed rather bloody," Medea sighed.
"Fate, you say…" Roland murmured in response.
"Yes. I surrendered to it fully eventually and my deeds caught up to me. You could say that it was karma."
"What, like the thing from hindu teachings?"
"You might say that, although, in magecraft, something like Karma can be quite powerful. The workings of fate hold a significant amount of Mystery in them."
"Karma," Roland tasted the word on his tongue.
Honestly, he was familiar with its workings, having done what he did… The cycle of the City could be said to be one primary example of it. He would have probably fallen prey to it eventually. The ensamble might have been seen as both his and Angela's karma. Doesn't mean he is free of it, no. There were many people whose road he had crossed.
"Despite not being tangible, the chains of it are very real. Which makes me wonder - are you not afraid that it might claim you?"
He might yet fall prey to it.
"...I can't say," he just shook his head.
Medea regarded him with a subtle gaze, but decided to switch to another topic. The one she had in mind.
"I've initially approached you with a different conversation in mind."
"Well, shoot," he gestured to her.
"I'll be upfront too, then. What are you, Roland?"
Roland felt like hundreds invisible stings tensed in his gut.
Outwardly, though, nothing happened. Without as much as a flinch, he tilted his head.
"If you are asking for a profession then I'm a fixer," without skipping a beat, he replied.
"No," something beneath the hood flashed sharply, "I assume you won't let go of the charade until I explain myself."
Roland eyed her with caution.
"You see, we - servants - exude Mystery. A person proficient with magecraft can start percepting magecraft with their five senses. Like taste, touch, smell, hearing or, in my case - seeing. It depends on the sensibility and mine is pretty high."
She made a small pause, like a teacher explaining something to an unruly student. When she took note of him following along, she continued.
"Servants, being the holders of their own legend, are particularly blinding. Not only that, but a servant's container holds a significant amount of Mystery as well. After all, it is what the best of magi of this time would proclaim to be a pinnacle of summonings."
Roland had a distinct feeling that a tug on her lips wasn't that of fondness, but rather - of mocking.
Watching his reaction, she continued.
"When I first came here, your presence was odd, even amongst those with divinity, like Rama and Karna. Like a warm, but subdued light."
The two locked down in a staredown, where neither wanted to lose.
Medea - out of curiosity. Roland - out of weariness.
"So I'd like to ask - what makes you exude Mystery unfamiliar even to me - a person who lived in the Age of Gods?"
Roland scratched the back of his head. Wasn't this a bad situation to find himself in…
Admittedly, he could just brush it off or speak some half-truths. Hell, he could just admit the truth. Say something along the lines of 'It's my skill', and be done with it.
There was, perhaps, a better way to do it. He was going to explain things tomorrow anyway, so…
He leveled the Witch with a scrutinizing look.
"I can probably tell you, but that would be a bit cumbersome. How about you come to the Cafeteria tomorrow morning and I explain everything to everyone?"
He could almost sense how her brow rose from beneath the darkness.
"...It sounds intriguing. I will come."
"Great!" Roland held his hands up in the air and stretched.
"Oh, right," without his consent, his mouth started to speak, "You are new here. Do you want a tour around the library?"
For a second, the witch stilled. Truthfully, she had no plans to linger here, but…
"I would fancy some recommendations," she replied eventually.
The two stood up and made rounds around the various shelves, discussing and sharing preferences and ideas.
By the end of the day, the itch in the back of Roland's brain subdued, no longer so weary of the witch. He would even go as far as to say that she was pleasant enough to talk to.
Whether trusting her with anything was a good thing would remain to be seen.
Come tomorrow, some of Roland's secrets will be out.
And the Library would see to its first ever visitors.