Roland was sleeping peacefully.
*KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK*
Correction - he was sleeping peacefully not too long ago.
His eyes struggled to open, his body violently protested, and his mind asked for another five minutes.
*KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK*
But someone just refused to leave him be on this fine morning.
Finally, he got some of his bearings, sat on the bed and balefully glared at the door.
*KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK*
Which was still being knocked at with relentless intensity.
"Rooooland! Wakey-wakey, my squire!" came the happy-go-lucky voice from the other side and Fixer's face contorted, as if he had eaten a lemon.
Great, just what he needed this morning.
Nevertheless, he stood up from the bed in all of his untidy glory. It was an instinct he had gained from his time in Charles' office - you don't ignore the man regardless of how pushy he gets. What you need to know - the guy was a slavedriver.
And knowing that the man on the other side was just a look-a-like didn't help matters much.
So here he was - wrinkled shirt put on in a hurry, with some buttons left untouched, a jacket draped over his shoulders and an expression of a human very-very done with his morning.
Y'know, just another day in Chaldea.
Roland trod to the door, pressed the button and the thing swooshed open, giving him a clear view of Charles… Charlie (he still couldn't shake off the nagging feeling of how wrong this whole thing felt), who was fresh as a cucumber and ready to do… whatever the hell he came here to do.
"Ah, finally! Take your weapon and let's go - we have a totally cool training session ahead of us," the man all but declared, leaving no room to negotiate.
Roland frowned but complied out of… habit, funnily enough. The words might have been different - but the situation was not. Charles did this very same thing back in the time. When he had just entered the office and the man quote-unqoute 'didn't like the way Roland swung his blade.'
Which is bullshit, by the way - Roland was always good at it. Didn't save him from occasional ass-wooping on the training grounds though.
"Tell you the truth - you are rather hard to get hold of. You are never at the simulator or at the cafeteria or in the workshops or anywhere really," the Knight lamented as they strolled along the white halls, "Almost made me think you were at the library or something. Or avoiding me. Which is totally not cool."
Roland was totally avoiding this guy. Although no one telling him where to find him was a rather pleasant piece of news.
"I was at the Library, though," the way Charlie stopped mid-step and looked at him incredulously. Almost made waking up this morning worth it.
"...Isn't that, like, hella boring?"
"I'm a librarian, what did you expect me to be doing?"
"I dunno. Eating? Trying to chase after girls? Maybe running around the Chaldea naked?" was an honest reply and Roland's brow quivered in an almost palpable amount of confusion.
"Who do you take me for?"
"Roland… Oh, yeah, you're not like my Roland. My bad, I guess?"
"Ha," Roland let out a bark of genuine laughter, his spirits now a bit uplifted, "What's this whole training thing about anyway?"
"Well, I took you as my squire…"
"Which I didn't agree to."
"Well, you are walking along with me now - means you agreed."
Roland couldn't refute that, as faulty as that logic was.
He still could just walk away, but at this point, he decided that it was high time he talked with Charlie. Seized him up, how much he held up to the original and decided what he felt about him.
Training together was a rather good method to do that.
And he definitely didn't come up with all of that on the spot after the fact. Not at all.
"Can't say you aren't right."
He nodded sagely, "That's because I'm right, of course. Well, I took you as my squire, and that means that you should be awesome enough to fit my awesome standards," the Knight proclaimed.
"Simply 'awesome'," Roland rolled his eyes.
"I know, right?"
The remaining minute they walked in silence, until they got to the simulator.
Charlie strolled to the holographic control panel, and just… stood still. Then, turned to the Pretender.
"So, khem," Saber cleared his throat, "your first mission is to make this thing work. Start now."
The guy tried to act as bossy as possible. He was… failing miserably at that. Roland just deadpanned, but approached the panel and booted the whole thing up.
Their surroundings turned into a courtyard of a large, medieval castle, made of solid and worn stone. The blazing sun up in the sky - bore witness to the two of them.
To be honest, Roland just imputed 'random terrain' into the machine, but this fit their needs pretty well.
"A castle? Pretty cool, gotta admit," Charlie looked around in subdued respect. He had seen many castles - conquered just as many. He was still pretty taken by the idea of them.
Weren't all castles cool like that?
"Anyway," the Saber summoned his sword into his hand, eyes turning serious "I gotta know how you carry yourself around the battlefield, so I'll go all out." The man then winked with a mischievous smile, "So show me your best, K?"
The dissonance was getting to Roland pretty badly, but he nodded despite the migraine, and Durandal appeared out of a black portal.
"Oh-oh, you gotta teach me how to do that, sometime. Looked pretty amazing, that," the King's eyes lit up at the display, but Roland just shook his head in dismay.
"Are we starting or not?"
Charlie smiled, purely and without malice.
"As you…" one moment, he was standing in front of him.
"WISH!" the next, he was already onto the fixer.
Roland saw the hit coming - their agility on par with one another.
"Kgh!" what he didn't expect was for it to hit like Cu Alter.
The two swords crossed, seizing up one another, but after a second of delay and getting each other's measure, Charles started to push Roland back - the A ranked strength proving to be too much.
Roland clicked his tongue, giving a bit of ground and trying to disengage, already making plans in case of a follow up.
…Which didn't happen?
Roland hopped back ten meters and stared confused at his opponent who was just nodding.
"You are weaker than my Roland," he said, "A lot more… rational, too, maybe. That guy would've just taken it until he couldn't. I like what I see, so far." he declared and took a stance, "Alright, now let's get real, yeah?"
A shiever traveled down Roland spine. And it weren't just his instincts talking.
Within the next second, a whirlwind of cold, sharp ice rushed him without mercy.
He evaded left, then escaped the cutting edge of green wind to the right, skidding off the frozen earth.
All just to jump up, barely passing by the flames.
Okay, he was losing ground, and he was doing it rapidly.
Gotta earn some of it back.
Without stopping, he ran to the right, then, as Charlie sent another windblade his way, he jumped on the castle wall, for a second earning a foothold.
Which was enough.
Breath in. Aim. Fire.
*BANG-BANG*
Two shots rang, all hit true - making the knight stumble back a step.
Just enough.
A metallic shin of a spear flashed beneath the sun. Roland accelerated, now just a blur of silver light aiming for a throat.
*CHING*
A high-pitched cry of metal being batted away, then.
*CLANG-CLANG*
The steel screeched in their hands, hits exchanged, but Roland couldn't overwhelm his opponent.
"Awesome, great!" Charlie exclaimed joyfully.
Then, out of nowhere, six swords appeared above Roland. A flash of annoyance passed his eyes.
Charlie went to the offensive, the wind overtaking Joyeuse, while the blades above flashed a menacing yellow.
Less than a moment to think, only a second to react.
*THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD*
It rained metal and the fixer was at the epicenter.
Twin swords found their way to his hands.
A swing - blade redirected. Another - the windblade blocked.
A step - a sword flies by. A tilt of head - another grazes the shoulder.
His body bends almost unnaturally - the miracle of flexibility, no less - and it only leaves a shallow wound on his hand.
Half a second passed.
A spin and a duck, Charlie's slash flies overhead. Twin swords drop to the ground, a hammer flashes gray and another blade flies off course, falling right into Roland's hand.
He twirls the stolen blade above his head and the last of its kind bounces away.
But the blade keeps going, a *CLANG* and it's meets its creator, who looks overjoyed with the display.
Then, the unnamed sword disappears in Roland's hand as he tries to thrust.
A click of tongue, and Roland has to make adjustments.
The hummer in another hand flings the sword lit with fire off course and Roland draws Durandal.
*SLICE-SLICE*
Two arcs of dark bellowed after the sword.
One missed.
*DRIP*
One drew blood.
They picked up the pace.
Durandal withdrawn, Roland danced around the blades of wind, thrusts of ice, biting with vicious precision with a knife, chipping at the armor, breeding cuts on hands and legs.
Charles wasn't too pressured, but he didn't like how aggressive this whole thing was turning.
Roland feinted, Roland dodged. Charles did none of that. He stood strong and tall and nary moving. Deflecting, going for rare counter-attacks.
With this, he had seen enough.
Roland sensed the impending attack and jumped, avoiding everything turning into a glacier.
Unfortunately, being in the air is the last thing you want, when a huge, burning mace is going right at you.
"SHIT!" On pure instinct, Roland summoned Wheels Industry, swinging it - turning it into hundred tons of metal before the impact.
The shock of the hit sent both combatants flying into opposite directions.
*CRASH * * CRACK-CRACK-CRACK*
The knight and a fixer crash landed into the castle walls, spider-webs of cracks sprawling throughout the whole thing.
Roland had to blink the stars out of his eyes. His ears were struggling to push off the tinnitus in his ears.
His hands were stiff and hurt like all hell. His back was sore and energy depleted.
Basically - the repeat of his condition whether he fought the Charles from the City.
Which is to say - bearable.
Roland slowly peeled himself off the wall, dropping to the ground and stumbling on the debris, only to be caught by a smiling, joyful fool.
"Ha-ha-ha! That was great Roland!" the man patted him on the back, hard - making Roland fight back a growl. "We should totally do this some other time. You are weaker but you make up to it with technique. Also, changing your weapons constantly? Awesome. Kinda like me."
Throughout the whole monologue, Roland couldn't be bothered to stand, so he sat right there on a dusty piece of stone, trying to make his body hurt less.
Charlie noticed that and took a seat beside him.
"No, seriously, it's rather commendable that you can wield that many weapons," the King's voice was kept a tone lower, "Though, what made you choose this kind of style, if I may ask?"
The cheerful and happy-go-lucky guy was put aside, as Charles asked his questions.
Roland thought for a second, but then decided that there's no problem with just telling.
"Everything except Durandal belonged to my wife. I just… decided to use them," Roland answered, his tone somewhat forlorn and evasive.
Saber's eyes widened. Now those were news. His brows creased in a contemplative frown, piecing things together. This Roland was probably just one of the version of his. Maybe from the future? Not that it mattered much.
But, to be honest, Roland having a wife? That was interesting.
"Wife?"
"Angelica," fixer waved off, dismissively.
Very interesting, indeed. But judging by his behavior, better not to push this too much.
"Was she stronger than you?"
"Well," he scratched the back of his head, "Yeah, a little? We were about equal in strength, but she just had both the quantity and quality on her side. I only had my 'toothpick'" he made the quotation marks with his fingers, huffing both in annoyance and amusement, "to fight with. Was enough for me."
He shrugged, and something in his shoulder cracked.
"Ouch."
"Ha," a soft smile graced Charlie's face and Roland threw him a dirty look. "Sorry-sorry."
A short silence settled, and Charles went onto the next topic.
"Your style is rather versatile, though. Flexible, always has a counter for everything. Not too flashy, but we can work on that," Roland shook his head. Flashy just wasn't his thing. "Though, I dunno. Something doesn't really sit right with me about it."
The king scratched his head, trying to figure out what bugged him.
But as the understanding struck him, he snapped his fingers.
"It lacks direction!" he said it, like it was the discovery of the century.
"Dunno what you mean by that, but I don't think I really care," Roland remarked off-handedly.
"But it is important!" the king exclaimed, standing up, making Roland's brows rise.Charles stumbled, "Listen, I'm only part of my legend. To be precise, I'm the part that was a 'knight'. I'm a Saber, for crying out loud. So swinging a sword for me is kinda a big deal."
"Yeah, maybe for you," Roland replied, "Not for me though. It was just the means to make ends meet. Can't say it didn't bring me joy. It's rather hard not to enjoy things you are good at, but I never really put much thought into it. You swing a sword to kill things, nothing more - nothing less."
"But that's, like, totally wrong." Charlie raised his hands in helplessness, "You do stuff like that for something. Like, maybe for a fair maiden, or a goal, or a brother in arms. It's what makes you push forward."
"Didn't take you for a motivational speaker," Roland sent him a look, "Romanticist, though? Should've seen that one coming."
"I'm serious, Roland," suddenly, Charlie frowned, looking at him from up high, "Things like that: convictions, goals, something to drive you from the inside - they make a difference both in battle and in life."
"I may get in battle," the man conceded, "But in life? Please."
A distinct feeling in his chest was screaming at him, that he wasn't entirely truthful with himself.
Roland pushed it down.
"The last guy who was telling me about convictions ended up six feet under," Roland noted, as a minute expression of grief occupied his features.
…Cu, you battle-crazy bastard.
Charlie kept his silence, lips in a thin line.
"...That may be so. But tell me, did he go out the way he wanted to?"
"I think you are missing the point here, mate. He died."
Roland gave the Saber a blank stare, but didn't say anything.
Charles… was Charles, after all. Even in the City the man had the inner-strength and backbone not many could boast to have.
Being extra stubborn about it… Well, what else did he expect?
"Roland, listen, while this whole thing is cool and all," Charlie seemed to have noticed that his point wasn't getting across, so he changed the tactic, "but the main reason I'm saying this is… People who lack that thing pushing them forward? They usually don't last long. External goals are all well and good, but… when the world crashes down, this conviction will help you not break down with it."
The man flopped back on the piece of stone near him.
Roland sat in silence. The description hit a bit close to home. Too close for comfort.
"How'd we get to talking about this, again?" Roland asked, switching the topic.
"We were talking about your battle style."
"Oh, right… How'd you get all that from just me fighting? And, more than that - I'm just a heroic spirit, not that anything can change, right?"
"Maybe so," he shrugged, "But I took you as my squire, so I better make the coolest, the most dependable guy around out of ya.
"And as for the first one - it says a lot about a person. Yours is deceptively straightforward. Enough to forget that you have a whole arsenal to do your opponent dirty."
"Don't wanna hear it from ya," Roland pushed the knight's shoulder with a fist, "Who was the one to shower me with elements?"
"Oh, well, can't be me, right? Those were all technically representing my knights' arsenal… So, it's more like you were hit by a whole lot of people."
"That doesn't make it better one bit."
The king just shrugged his shoulders and the two, after a second of staring intently, shared a grin.
A lull in the conversation made for a pretty good opening to round this whole thing up.
"Wanna grab something to bite? I've just got my stomach back and all, so…"
"Oh, sure. Just… No drinking, K? You don't take your alcohol well…"
"You are projecting here, I can hold my drinks quite well," Roland refuted straight away.
"Yeah, well, forgive me if I don't believe it for a second."
"You are not, and I expect a good whiskey as recompense," Roland flashed a smug smile and headed out.
"Heya, hold on…" Charlie caught on quickly and fell in line with the fixer, as they fell into half-hearted banter.
Soon, they reached the cafeteria, where, even in five in the morning, a person was already wide awake, chugging coffee like there is no tomorrow.
Probably, because if he didn't do his job, tomorrow will indeed never come.
"Heya, Doc-man!" Charlie gave a smile and a wave.
"Romani," Roland just nodded.
"Roland, Charles," the man in the lab coat addressed them somewhat formally, nodding, and then returning to whatever it was that played on his phone…
"Is that… no scratch that, what is that?" Fixer asked confused.
"Oh, my friend," Doctor looked suddenly very much alive, "This right here is Magi-Mari!" he shoved the phone up Roland's face, showing a display with a magical girl, winking at him.
Librarian shuddered.
He had enough magical girls in the Library to last him a lifetime.
"Get this out of my face, would you?" his countenance soured, as he moved away.
"Well, to each their own, didn't have to do it this rudely, though," Roman grumbled to himself. There wasn't any fire in his words.
"It looks curious, but, I guess… It's not that cool?" Charlie gave his assessment and was promptly ignored.
"Who's at the counter today?" Roland asked.
"Boudica, she should be here shortly."
…But, if Roland's senses are to be believed, someone else was in the kitchens right now. It wasn't a servant, that's for sure.
An employee, maybe? They were standing where he saw coffee machines being, which is to say - right beside the entry.
Eh, whatever. What he was about to discuss was a secret from Ritsuka and Mash only, anyway. Most others probably knew already.
"So, how are the preparations coming along?" he asked, his demeanor changing slightly.
Roman mirrored that, some sleep leaving his eyes, becoming clearer.
"Well," he put the paper down, "Mostly fine? We have everything we need in regards to food. What's left is to resummon some servants and bring them in on the plan."
"What are you guys on about?" Charles asked. Not being in the loop wasn't very cool.
"Ah, you don't know. We are preparing a ball. It's kinda a secret from Master. You know, fancy dresses, music, dances. Totally old-school. Decorated venue and everything." Roland explained.
"We haven't gotten to that, though."
"We still have a week, though. On that note, I don't think we have anyone proficient in something like that," Roland murmured.
"We have a few on the list who are very into festivities, don't worry. Having them on board would make this a breeze," Doctor assured.
"That's good to hear."
Some movement happened beyond the door.
"Oh yes, that's veeeeery good to hear," with the saccharine tone, someone stepped out of the shadow of the kitchen doors and…
In an impressive show of unanimity, the three at the stand blanched, shuddered and tried to distance themselves as far as they could.
"Now, boys… "with the vicious sweetness, the orange-haired Master made her way to the three, her steps light, face alight with a smile and eyes full of what some would call danger.
Keeping the tray steady, she placed it in front of the group, deftly putting down three coffee mugs.
Before unceremoniously throwing the tray into the kitchen.
It clanged, almost deafeingly in the complete, still silence of the room.
"Charlie, dear," she first turned to the Saber, "Can you please leave? Take the cup with you?"
"Oh, uh, yeah, sure," his eyes alternated between the two comrades and a very scary woman.
To be fair, every woman was scary when they were angry. Bradamante wouldn't let him lie.
"Sooooo, good…" he stopped mid-sentence, as the eyes of molten gold peered into him coldly. He still decided to say what he wanted. Leaving your dudes hanging like that was lame.
Not that leaving them to their fate wasn't. But when it came to women… everyone was out for themselves.
He would know, he had four wives.
"...Luck. Survive," he saluted them and power-walked out, under the dissatisfied stare.
When the back of the Saber finally disappeared, the two orbs settled on the remaining two.
'We are so dead,' they thought at the same time, their heads hanging low, ready for the execution about to happen.
*****
Twenty minutes earlier.
The first thing Ritsuka saw when she opened her eyes was a hand in a black glove, striving desperately to reach into the pillar of vibrant, golden light.
And then it did, it pulled back on a hand as pale as a corpse's. The body soon followed after.
Stumbling from the quickly waning pillar, was a woman with teal, no, maybe bluish hair. She looked lost, her expression screaming confusion, with hints of denial clearly visible.
It ultimately didn't matter. The pillar disappeared, as if it wasn't there just moments prior.
Then, her ears finally caught onto the important things. Like the sounds of constantly colliding metal.
* CHING THUD CLANG-CLANG *
Her eyes, along with the woman's, traveled to the scene of vicious battle.
"I… No. This can't be… I was not supposed to…" the pale-looking woman muttered.
"Yo, Angela!" Roland shouted in greeting in-between the gasps of exertion.
Ritsuka sent the woman a quick look. So this was Angela? She looked… she didn't know how to phrase it. 'Otherworldly' didn't exactly capture the woman in full… maybe - unusual. Different.
Beautiful, nevertheless.
* BANG *
A gunshot rang, and he continued.
"Good to see you again after so long," he parried the scythe of the… whatever the hell that guy was. He didn't look human, not at all - with all that mist rolling down from his head, and the magic ball instead of his face.
"Guess you had to return to the mechanical body, huh…" he huffed a bit of air, seemingly a bit remorseful, "Your face is all pale again."
"Roland what have you done?" Angela asked, notes of barely concealed panic and perhaps even hysteria tinging her voice.
Ritsuka also managed to spot worry somewhere deep in there.
Thunderous clashes resounded throughout the place.
A block, another, a hit, a sword unsheathed, then - a flurry of flash-like cuts rip through space.
Then, a standoff of just a second, and the two launch at each over. The force of the collision threw them in the opposite directions of each other.
The combatants skid off the ground in different directions, as a small pause forms, giving Roland enough time to speak.
"You almost evaporated on the last day," his eyes found Angela's, "So I pulled you out of the pillar of light."
His words were not at all apologetic.
"Just a quick sec. I'm still not done dealing with that persistent sicko over there," and Roland smiled the most daring smile Ritsuka had ever seen him wear. But it also gives this other feeling - reassurance.
"...You should not have done that." Angela says, her reproach falling on deaf ears, "I won't be able to revert everything completely this way."
Then, with defeat, all strength leaving her, she pronounces, "It was all for naught. It was my last chance…"
Her lamenting is interrupted by the blood-curdling shriek.
"ROLAND!" the voice is distorted in a peculiar way, but the emotions in it are very pronounced - rage, fear, despair. The man was at his wit's end. "ANGELAAAAA!" the last of his cry is stopped as a lance protrudes from his back.
"Should've behaved like the lunatic you always were, until the very end," Roland says, indifferent.
"This is what you get for going outta character and squeaking like an amateur," this time, the voice is clearly coloured with condescending… almost pity.
"This… is hideous…" through strangled gasps, the man breathes out words. "I wanted my end to be elegant at least…"
It was regret that laced his voice now.
Then, pressing Roland a bit closer, in the absolute silence of the room, the blue-clad sicko says his last.
"I'll send my dear sister your regards…" then, in the last show of both spite and ill-humor, he continues, "brother-in-law."
Roland stills for a second, but then sighs, almost inaudibly.
"...Drop dead already."
The spear is pulled out.
And Ritsuka awakens from the dream.
*****
Ritsuka woke up. It was as simple as that.
One moment she was in the middle of a wild battlefield. The other - she was blinking, wide awake. Her body felt just alright - full of energy and ready to rumble.
Her mind was not. Her head - if she was to be particular about it.
This was a peculiar feeling to wake up to.
In her half-turned-on brain, she could only really come up with one solution.
"Gotta grab me some coffee," she said out-loud, slipping into her slippers, putting some more presentable clothes on and then strolling over to the cafeteria. All on autopilot.
Boudica gave her some strange glances, sure, but Ritsuka wasn't in the right state of mind to care, so she hogged the coffee machine.
Her brain painfully tried to fall into the right place, but it would only be (unfortunately, for some) after the trio got together, that it would do just that as she was about to leave.
The exact moment, when the three people started talking about the plan. A plan kept away from her.
Whatever it was, that she felt at that moment, she could say for sure that being kept in the dark didn't really sit right with her.
Not that she didn't appreciate the thought… but her gut swirled with indignation.
Or maybe it was the pent-up stress of everything?
It, ultimately, didn't matter. She was feeling irrational, a bit angry, and most of all - petty.
So, she made some more coffees, put them on the tray.
And went out hunting.
*****
One hour later.
After a very eventful talk, Ritsuka decided that putting things off wouldn't fly, and single handedly put herself in charge of the whole thing.
Now, Roland and Roman tried to dissuade her. It only really took a cold glare for them to shut up.
Anyhow, she figured out that starting from the top would be the best course of action. So here they were, in a summoning chamber, about to resummon some of the servants.
With the newest grail added to the mix, they could sustain quite a few people. They were talking - almost every servant ever summoned.
First, though, would come people who she would delegate some of the work to.
The summoning circle flashed, and from it, an elegant and gentlemanly young man walked out.
"Master," the man gave a small bow and a smile, "What might you require of me?"
"Ah, nothing much Jakyll," Ritsuka gave him a wave, with a welcoming smile, "We are just organizing something, and you seemed like the man with the right credentials."
"Oh? Pray tell the details," the man walked down the stairs, and Roland, who was standing in the corner, noted how silent the man was.
And the overall feel that he gave the fixer. Made him feel uneasy. He seemed cordial enough, though.
"Well, it was supposed to be the western style ball," Ritsuka motioned, unsure, "But I really think we should wreck up the scale a bit."
Somewhere in Chaldea, Romani's head started to throb violently from the vicious headache.
"And my role here would be…?"
"You'll be in charge of the western style venue. I'll put another servant in charge of the Japanese styled. Yours is kinda where the whole action happens, and the other one is just to relax a bit."
She said that with a lighthearted tone, though, for a second, you could see her eyes grow a bit distant and voice - detached.
Honestly, the main reason why she wanted the thing to have Japanese style, was mostly because she was homesick.
No one opted to point out that stutter.
"A sound plan. I will assist you. I must add, however, that I'm a doctor, not an organizer."
"Oh, don't worry - Marie and Nero will be helping you with the decorating. You just make sure things don't go up in flames and give them everything they ask for."
"Very well. I'll get to it immediately." the man said with a soft smile and trod out of the room, giving Roland a slight nod.
"Alright, Da Vinci, fire it up!"
The flash of light was her response. Well, this was going to take a while…
*****
Ritsuka walked down the corridor, trying hard to picture the conversation that was about to ensue. It wouldn't be an easy one, she was sure of that.
Stheno and Euryale - the gorgon sisters. Two of the three, at least.
They identified themselves as one, even referring to each other as 'me'. And they never loved humanity, even once. They had admitted as such themselves.
Ritsuka found, though, that their company was… amiable. They joked and teased and showed none of the things she witnessed from their dream cycles.
She didn't delude herself, though. They still didn't care much. She was just cheap entertainment for them.
Yet, Ritsuka, being who she was, knew very well that they were somewhat lonely. They wanted company. Not necessarily needed it, but Ritsuka wanted to think that somewhere deep in there, they wanted to understand humanity a bit more.
Or maybe she was just kidding herself, there was no such desire, and they just wanted to get as much out of their temporary forms as possible.
She entered the elevator, and let out a quiet sigh.
When Mozart was brought in on the plan, he was very much pleased with the arrangement, except for one point - Liz was not to be present. She was not to sing in his presence. That particular demand was unanimous among those present… Except Roland, who just didn't know how bad it was.
But Master didn't have the heart to say to the girl that she won't be performing.
So, she decided that Liz's venue will be the naughty corner - stir up trouble, and you'll be sent there by the very imposing figure of Hercules.
How is that connected to the current situation?
Singing was still pretty important, all in all. So they decided to turn to those who couldn't physically fuck this up - the gorgon sisters.
They liked to sing, they liked (to a very limited extent) attention. To get their cooperation though… a herculean task.
And now she was before their door.
A knock.
"Come in."
The door wooshes open and Ritsuka bears witness to the two sisters sitting opposite each other, drinking tea.
Simultaneously, their head turn to her, and they grace her with a smile.
Stheno - a gracious one, Euryle - a coy one.
"Why me, look, our Master," Stheno says, her voice carrying no heat whatsoever, yet the clear poke at Ritsuka's position was very well pronounced, "comes to grace us with a visit."
"Yes, me. A very sudden visit, not an unwelcome one, however," Euryale picks up where her sister left, her smile gaining a slight edge to it as she observes Ritsuka for a second, "And why so tense, dear Master of ours? Come sit, sit. I and me will alleviate some of your tension, definitely."
Listening to them calling each other 'I and me' still did things to her mind.
And the voice… Yeah, they both had the voice that would captivate a lesser man.
She was, thankfully, a bit more used to it now.
Ritsuka took her seat at the head of the table and a fragrant cup of tea found its way to her in seconds.
There were pleasantries exchanged, talks about nothing in particular, idle chatter, gossip.
The sisters didn't like beating around the bush but this time in particular… they've swept her up in their own stream, and she really couldn't do anything to speed things along.
Not that she really wanted to. Idle chatter or not, being in their company was pleasant, despite the occasional look of… amusement and mischief sent her way.
Truthfully, something in her gut was telling her that she was being played with.
Then, finally, after an hour of talking (and relaxing - god knows she had been running around like a headless chicken after getting involved with everything) she finally broached the topic.
"Stheno, Euryale, I have something to…"
"I agree," they said as one, the amusement in their eyes reaching its peak, as her speech stopped mid-word.
She must have looked real funny at that moment.
"But I didn't even…"
"But it is regarding the event that is fast-approaching is it not?And I will say for both me and myself - we agree," Stheno repeated herself (a rare occurrence).
Ritsuka was officially lost.
"Look, me, look - her face is truly priceless," Euryle chirped.
"Yes, me, she truly does her job of entertaining us well."
Okay, Ritsuka decided to throw the towel right there and then.
"Okay, what's the deal here?" she drank the last of what was left of her tea.
"It is quite simple, really. One day, a man in black suit came to me, asking of my potential willingness to part-take in an event that was soon to come."
"My curiosity was piqued, and I managed to gleam some more details."
"I decided that this might make for a curious endeavor."
"And so, I will assist with my singing. If only for one song."
Ritsuka was speechless. This was so far-removed from the MOs of these two that she really wanted to take an hour just to think this through. She actually considered this a kind of ploy but then…
Any kind of ploys are below them.They are goddesses. Schemes were so far below them - they didn't even register as such.
Except for, maybe, when they wanted to mess with someone. Medusa could attest to that.
Although, Roland having a hand at this development… Giving these two just enough ground to actually make a bit more fun out of her. She didn't know if she wanted to be mad or just take it in stride.
Although, her pettiness from a few hours ago flared up again.
But she could come up with a way to get back at the fixer later.
"Okay… Wow. Alright. Thanks," she scratched her cheek sheepishly, "I thought that this would take a bit more persuading, honestly."
"Dear Ritsuka," Stheno addressed her by name, and Master got the distinct impression that these words she had to listen carefully to, "We might be goddesses, and see your kind as nothing much…"
"That does not, however, mean that we do not know how to be grateful," Euryale finished for her.
"We have experienced many interesting things, and you can consider this as our payment," Stheno rounded up the entire speech.
"I'm…" Ritsuka couldn't really find the words, "thankful."
She bowed her head slightly.
"Besides," a bit quieter, Euryale continued, "Medusa asked us, before her passing, that we should show you some favor back. She said it was 'only proper'."
Aaaand she just had to go and ruin it a bit.
Judging by the smug looks, that was probably the intention.
Master just shook her head, a small smile playing on her features.
"Well, with that stuff out of the way, how about we chat a bit more?" she proposed, and the two goddesses were eager to agree.
She only left their room three hours later.
*****
"Hum-hum, humhum, huuum-hum," Ritsuka let the tiny melody slip from her lips as she continued on her walked through the complex.
It has been a day since she found out about the ball, talked to Stheno and Euryale, and sketched out the rough outlines of everything.
Already, she could see the results of their work.
On the wall, colorful, pink fliers were put on the wall. A small and cute, albeit crude drawing of Marie Antoinette was drawn on it, picturing the Queen waving her hands. In big and mismatched letters, it read:
'Dancing lessons! We will teach you ballroom dances and some more! Come to…'
Ritsuka could spot Nursery's handiwork easily. To be honest, seeing this kind of cooperation between servants made her feel warm on the inside…
The matter of anyone actually attending the classes with this kind of advertisement was a whole other beast.
"Nah," Ritsuka just shrugged and walked forward, grabbing and putting on of these in her pocket.
She knew she would attend. She couldn't dance to save her life, and she kinda wanted to rectify that.
Eventually, she reached her destination - the summoning chamber.
If, on the first day, they needed to summon essential staff, then today, they would be resummoning those that would be guests.
And oh boy, was that quite a list. Not that big of a list, admittedly, but then again, she'll have to write invitations for all of them, and all those present right now, and Chaldean staff…
She could already feel her hand cramping from all the writing.
Anyway, that was enough dilly-dallying, time for work.
The door opened and she walked in, her stride somewhat confident.
Those who knew her well enough would find something amiss. Like she was a bit more jittery, stiff.
"Romani, you there?" she shouted out.
"Yes, right here and ready for more work," the words got to her through the intercom, though the man did not sound at all enthused with the task.
To be fair, after all the paperwork he had to do, just a sight of it could make him gag. This was both a small reprieve and a harbinger of more paperwork.
…Because every summon of a servant came with their own paperwork in need of filling. And every resummon. And every other such instance.
"Fire it up, then!"
And he did. First came a very familiar Saber.
"Siegfried, my friend!" Ritsuka opened her arms wide inviting the seemingly imposing, but in truth, a very affable man to hug her.
"Hello, Master," the man returned a genuine smile, yet made no move to close the distance, "Why might you have summoned me this time?"
"Ah, we have a bit of an event about to happen. You are invited. But there can't be an invitation without the person themselves, right?" she said, sparkling him a smile.
"You are kind, Master. I will gratefully accept the invitation."
"Great!" she pumped up her fist.
"I assume my quarters are still unclaimed?"
"They are all yours," she nodded.
"I will be on my way, then."
"Oh, if you need any kind of suit or whatnot, look for event organizers."
"Will do," and so the man left, leaving the confirmation behind.
A pause of a minute was formed in his place.
"Alright, let's continue."
Afterwards, Servants came one after another.
The quiet Altera.
The boastful Caesar.
The calm Atalante.
Ever polite and helpful Chiron.
Hector. Just Hector.
Steadfast and unbending Leonidas.
A gorgeous Medusa (who Ritsuka didn't forget to thank for her help).
Unwavering Georgios.
Her favorite Ushiwakamaru.
The prideful and equally as friendly Iskandar.
Kiyohime, as (over)zealous as ever.
Shikibu - who Ritsuka felt very guilty for. Master knew she was all over libraries and books. And Ritsuka might have forgotten to bring the person most interested in the Library to the freaking Library.
Master sicked the japanese woman on Roland and was done with that.
Next came Shakespear, as dramatic as she remembered him being.
It was time for the second to last summon.
And Ritsuka was not at all ready to face it. And it wasn't because of 'who' she was about to summon. Not in particular.
It was about this whole summon spree as a whole.
Each hand she shook - her muscles tensed, as if unable - unwilling to let go of the person.
Each time she made eye contact - she had to really press down on her emotions, threatening to leak out any moment.
Each moment spent together - reminded of the time when she had to leave them behind. To commit to a duty she was forced into. To a duty they were now bound to as well.
It sickened her. But she would lie, if she said that she wasn't glad to meet them again. To speak with them. Because she still saw the same thing in their eyes.
They believe in her. That she would do it. Despite what might have happened to them - they were more than willing to follow her into hell and back again.
The feeling of seeing someone who you thought died was always… weird. A mix of wrongness and elation. And a few haunting memories.
Nevertheless - always happy to meet them. Well, those she was able to summon…
Screams.
Fire. Blood.
The misty London descends into madness.
The King of Mages swipes his hand…
" RITSUKA! "
A shout brought her out of her memories.
"I-I'm fine Romani, just needed a second to catch my breath with all of that," the small lie slips through her lips easily.
"... Take your time. Let me know when you are ready."
Breath in four seconds, hold four, release four…
Did she butcher this technique again? She thought she did.
This little action did little to distract her.
She had done this a few times - resummoning. What had ultimately buggered her about this whole experience was… helplessness. She watched them die. And then brought them back. Maybe that's what made her feel this way? Feel, like whatever she tries, there will still be casualties? Or maybe it was the seeming worthlessness of their lives?
No, that couldn't be it… After all, those who King of Mages killed, didn't return, and then there was this wolf…
…She just lamented that she couldn't do more. And that elevated her life above theirs, in a way. And she hated that.
Roland's words came to mind, back when they were sitting under the moonlit sky.
The words he had said weren't really spoken with the servants' nature in mind. They rang true, nevertheless.
Despite some of them being back, the memories of them dying would never go away. On the contrary, they made her cherish these people more.
But she was still, essentially - helpless to do anything. So, she'll have to make them worth it, regardless of how she feels about it.
*SLAP-SLAP*
She slapped her cheeks slightly, taking a lungful of air to concentrate and regain her bearings.
It would be the best to start now. Stewing in it won't help her.
"Fire it up, Romani."
The winds picking up in intensity was her answer.
A second, another. A circle formed, blazed with vigorous energy and subsided, as a small figure stepped out.
"Well-well, Master," a deep voice, quite unbefitting the small frame of the speaker, rang, not judging, but carrying that silent intensity. The figure glanced at her for a second, and then the man sighed, facepalming.
"Did you just have an internal monologue about something important?"
Ritsuka cringed, but decided not to lie.
The guy could rival Kiyohime in lie detection.
"Yes, Hans, I just did."
"Splendid…" Hans Christian Andersen deadpanned, "How come every time I'm not around, the list of your mental disorders grows longer?"
"Ah, well…" she scratched her cheek. That's why she wasn't too keen on summoning Hans - he knows you better than you know yourself. And he could roast anything and anyone alive without a fire. Those he deemed stupid (like herself) especially so.
Other than that - a pretty good guy.
"Forget it," he waved it off, "I'll have more than enough time to disillusion you about whatever it is you were thinking. And be your psychologist, because I seem to be the only one who cares about it."
"Hey!" Romani exclaimed on the other side of the intercom, but Hans looked at the camera hanging above him, and suddenly - he wasn't so chatty anymore.
Ritsuka just gave up and spoke with a smile.
"Glad to have you again, Hans."
"Yeah-yeah, none of that touchy-feely stuff, please," he strode to the Master, "Also, Kiara isn't here, right?"
He sounded almost fearful.
"Still have no idea who that is…"
"Good, keep it that way."
The writer shook Master's hand and without further ado, made his way to the exit.
Dropping one last piece of advice.
"And Master, don't be stupid - stop for today. You can summon whoever you want to later. You aren't in the right mindset anymore."
With his piece said, the doors opened, and the Caster disappeared.
"..."
"..."
"...He's right, you know? We've been at it for two hours at this point, about the time we took a break."
Master just sighed.
"Yeah-Yeah. He is right. As always."
Arash wasn't summoned that day.
*****
A week passed.
Chaldea was full of activity and life.
The simulator was blocked off from usage by anyone, but organizers as Tamamo, Nero, Marie and Jekyll were busy moulding the place to be the best venue ever.
When the initial stage of making the entire place was done, it was time for decorations.
"Jekyll-san, we need more pillows. We might not have enough places to sit on," Tamomo voiced her concerns.
"Yes, they will be delivered shortly," the man nodded, noting it in his ledger. He then gave Roland a nod, and Pretender went running.
*****
"Jekyll, we need more tables and… What are you doing! It should be placed on the left! Yes, left! Umu, umu. That's better," Nero Claudius corrected.
Roland groaned, moving the curtain a bit left.
*****
"Good, very good, Monsieur Roland, you are a natural, truly!" Marie Antoinnete clapped vigorously, which was mirrored by her knight - D'eon.
"See, class? That's the movement! Now, let's do that one more time!"
Roland persevered, through gritted teeth.
*****
"WHERE IS THE LAMB SAUCE, ROLAND?!" Archer raised his voice, trying to outshout the sizzling oil on the frying pan.
"WHAT FUCKING LAMB SAUCE?!" Fixer shouted back.
"THE ONE YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO PREPARE FIVE MINUTES AGO!"
"Ah, that one…" he stopped stirring the pot for a second and scratched his head "my bad?"
Archer wanted to facepalm.
Roland wasn't much better.
*****
Mozart stared impatiently at the man, trying to find correct words.
"Acceptable," the musician declared, and Roland couldn't take it anymore.
"Oh, come on! It was good!"
"Good - yes. I'm not much of a perfectionist, but I rather like it when the person that plays with me is of adequate skill. So let's go through this again. Start with this page here. By the end of the week, I expect you to memorize it fully. We will be playing without any sheets."
Roland was ready to distort.
*****
Roland dropped on the bed.
He was so, damn, tired. A servant's body might not be able to tire in a way human's can, especially when he was fully made of Light, but damn - all this running around did a number on him.
It felt like he had returned to being grade nine again - running around like an errand boy, helping everyone with everything.
Except he wasn't being paid this time…
"Damn Ritsuka and her damn command seals…" he grumbled.
Despite Roland's continued struggles - he couldn't buy Ritsuka's forgiveness this time.
So, when the second day of preparation rolled around, she did what any other self-respecting slave-driver would.
" Rolland, by my command seal, I order you - until the preparation for the Ball comes to an end - help everyone with everything they ask of you. You may still rest at night. " She finished that sentence with a small, devious smile - which he didn't see, but very much felt.
She wasn't that mad by that point.
She was still pretty salty about the whole "behind her back" thing, though. So this was her punishment.
But whatever. That was behind him now. The ball was tomorrow - he was officially released from this torture and could rest till tomorrow evening.
Suddenly, his eyes, that were aimlessly staring into nothingness, focused on the black envelope on the table.
Roland stood up and made his way to the table.
Picking up the envelope, he stared at Chaldea's logo put on a wax seal. Where did they even get such an antiquity?
Disregarding that thought, a knife appeared out of his gloves, and in a swift motion, he undid the seal, revealing a yellow coloured paper.
On it, in careful and neat cursive, words were written in black ink.
Dear Roland,
I humbly invite you to the Ball of Chaldea,
organized to uplift the staff's spirit
and to praise my illustrious name.
Please, take note that a formal style of dress is required to acquire entry.
Any and all who refuse to abide by this rule,
will be 'gently' escorted by Hercules to Elizabeth Bathory's concert, as well as her recitals.
You are to arrive at 5 o'clock in the evening to the simulator,
where a check of both your dress and invitation will be carried out.
As you are a member of the musical troupe, your presence will be required thirty minutes before the allotted time.
Enjoy the event you so helpfully assisted in organizing :)
Your one, best, and only,
Master №48, Ritsuka Fujimaru
P.S. You can rest easy now, your transgressions are forgiven, and the command seal should lose power as you've read this. Get some rest ^_^
P.P.S. I want you to play a melody just for me and it's non negotiable.
Roland smiled, swiping the hand through his hair, equal parts exasperated and amused.
This gal was a riot, that's for sure.