The time has come.
It was a bit past 3 o'clock when careful but hasty preparations started.
At this time, you wouldn't find a single servant, hell - a single human around. The bare, unlucky minimum was left to see that all of Chaldea's systems were running, but everyone else was busy tidying themselves up, trying to look their best for the upcoming ball.
Ritsuka was no exception. Her order of doing things, was fairly straight forward too.
Wake up, warm up, put on makeup, dress up.
Pretty simple, right?
Wrong.
First, she couldn't bring herself out of the bed, then, she was a bit too absorbed in standing in the hot water.
Afterwards, she leisurely strolled into the room and started doing stretches.
In her defense, today was rather leisurely. Most of the residue stress from the Singularity left her and with some of her demons forcefully put to rest thanks to Hans, she could afford herself some laziness now.
She could finally act more like herself and not a hyper-active busybody, with a stick up in a certain place.
…But, perhaps she made a slight miscalculation?
Because when she finally took a look at the clock, it was already 16:15 and she was woefully underdressed and not ready.
So, rushing things it was.
She applied light make-up (she was beautiful as she was, after all (yes, she was very humble about it, thanks for asking)), checked out her three piece suit one more time and started putting it on.
While doing that, she dropped a quick message to Da Vinci, asking if her dress was ready for pick up when she inevitably decided to stop being Mash's prince, and instead, play the princess.
It was a kind of arrangement she decided was best. She wanted to give her best friend the taste of how it is to be in someone's care and as there was a shortage of decent boys to take Mash out, she just had to do it herself.
Which made Da Vinci give her a very unamused stare, because adding that to the already impressive workload was not what their inventor-turned-tailor needed at that moment.
Well, that happened anyway, so she decided not to sweat it.
Anyway, she checked everything again, re-checked and then with an easy heart strolled to the door…
Only for her eyes to wander to the lone envelope lying on the table.
The breath caught in her throat as her chest constricted.
…Yeah, Arash's invitation.
She turned around and walked back, picking it back up, her fingers tracing the black inc on the paper surface.
She wrote it as a kind of foot-in-the-door. She thought that maybe, with that, she would've been able to step over herself and summon the man.
But no matter how she thought about it, she couldn't bring herself to do it.
Arash was many things, forgiving - one of them, and perhaps the most prominent.
To think that she had asked him to use his phantasm three times. And that he had compiled without a second's hesitation.
…But for her conscience, perhaps it was three times too many.
She winced, as her mood dampened, her hands unconsciously straining, wrinkling the envelope.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Not today. She wouldn't be thinking about it today. She had thought about it enough. And…
Ritsuka looked at the time and realized that she had exactly twelve minutes to get Mash and then get to the Simulator.
Which was in the other part of Chaldea entirely.
"Crap!"
She left the envelope on the table, rushing out of the room.
The piece of paper looked almost lonely.
*****
Mash was staring at her own visage in the mirror.
Lavender eyes, pink hair falling over her right eye.
She was wearing a blue dress, with a pretty white bow tied behind her. All of this accented by the dark blue weil falling down the back of her wear.
It wasn't conservative at all (a thing Roman was very intent of voicing), and it didn't even reach her knees, but… she really liked it. And after some earnest pleading, the man crumbled like a house of cards.
Although she was almost ready to give up… her senpai said that she should push it and that she liked this design.
Mash's cheeks were lit with a red hue of embarrassment thinking about it.
…Senpai. Her one and only friend now. Her Master.
And the one of the few people that would mourn her passing.
She glanced at the mirror again, her eyes letting out the kind of dim sheen of… resignation.
Mash always knew she had her own expiration date. And she knew that it was fast approaching. She had no more than a year to live. That is, without Singularities pushing her limits.
So, probably less now.
It's funny how prior to meeting senpai, she didn't care. She knew that she would die and it didn't strike any chord in her heart.
Now it does. Now she knew life.
And now she was regretful to lose it all… And at the same time, to protect her senpai, she would do it in a heartbeat.
However, she had been entertaining a rather interesting fantasy lately.
What would have happened to her life, if she hadn't met Ritsuka? If everything went as planned. Humanity was safe, Chaldea worked as it was supposed to?
And was it horrible, selfish of her to be glad that things turned out the way they did? That she had met the one person she held so highly and to experience this… adventure with her?
No. No, calling this an adventure would be an affront to all those who had died, for Director Olga, the A Team and all other Master Candidates, not to mention servants.
And yet…
*KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK*
The knocks on her door bring her out of her musings.
"Mash!" Ritsuka's voice rang out in a bit of distress, "So, uh, it took me a bit more time to get ready. Long story short we gotta go!"
Mash stood up, catching sight of the clock in the corner.
16:54.
Oh dear, they were running late.
She power walked out of the room, Ritsuka locking hands with her.
The Ball awaited them.
*****
To the surprise of absolutely no one - they were running late.
The duo of a Master and a Shielder approached the doors, only slightly staggering at the sight of a Heracles wearing a suit, which was both amusing and intimidating.
The giant stared at them, unusually calm, but made way for them to enter.
Ritsuka still couldn't understand who managed to put a suit on this hulking mass of muscles, and how they managed for it not to tear apart at the seams.
Frankly, she didn't want to think about it either.
So, Mash in tow, she gave the Berserker a grateful nod and approached the door.
Both Mash and she stood in front of the white, pristine double doors and exchanged glances, nodding to one another.
Simultaneously, they pushed them open.
A loud voice rang as soon as they entered.
"And would you look at that! The stars of today have finally arrived! Fashionably late as well! Everyone, a round of applause for Ritsuka and Mash!"
Servant or human, everyone cheered the two on as they went down the red carpet right into the center of the room.
Ritsuka kept a straight face, while Mash couldn't help scratching her cheek a bit at the mention of their tardiness.
She was glad no one seemed to mind it.
As they went, Mash noted the room's layout. It was a mix of the many castles and mansions she had visited. With the wide, open area in the middle separated from the rest of the space by the invisible wall, accented by white marble pillars of what seemed to be of roman design. The space by the walls was primarily occupied with tables for food and the like.
Her eyes rising, she noted that there were stairs made of black marble on the left side of the room, leading to the second floor, which overlooked the dancing area. Perhaps, it was made for the intention of not making the room too crowded?
She also had a clear line of sight of the slightly elevated stage for the musicians. There were many instruments presented. More than there were people, in fact. She wondered how that would turn out.
Momentarily, her eyes were captivated with the reddish glow of the dark parquet, as it glistened with the light of the setting sun coming from the large, french windows on the right side of the room.
It was… It made her heart flutter. That's for sure.
They've approached the center of the entire venue, servants and humans alike gathered around them, Nero elected as a presenter.
"Now that the stars of the show are finally here, let us start with the opening act!" she said, hopping up on the stage.
Roland stood by the drums and the like, having been given a crash course on how to play them. Phantom of the Opera was on the violin duty, along with Marie. Mozart was in charge of the tube, but was standing so he could help with the strings or piano - being proficient in them also. Carmilla played on the flute. Nero was running around doing whatever it was she needed to do, her imperial privilege skill giving her the needed insight on how to play all of the instruments present.
Those able to dance stood near the center, with the general population dwindling as some people retreated to the side to either talk or eat.
Ritsuka and Mash, however, remained at the center of both the room and attention, easing themselves into the positions to start dancing.
For a moment, a silence settled.
Everyone looked at Mozart.
The man nodded…
And the show began.
*****
And while most others spent their time dancing, some servants and guests found their time better spent conversing and drinking on the second floor. And enjoying themselves, overall.
…It is, perhaps, for shame, then, that some people's definition of 'fun' was mutually exclusive of others'.
Exhibit A: Jalter and Caesar
"Why the long face, servant?" asked the Roman emperor.
"I'm no servant you fat motherfucker!" Avenger retorted sharply, which didn't seem to work, judging by the ever widening smirk.
"What crude language…" he said, shaking his head, "Why, it almost feels like I'm talking to a rabid dog. Just look at the other one - an exemplary performance," he waved towards the other willing participant of this madness - Rider Artoria Alter. She was dressed in a standard maid uniform, showing excellent manners and… flashing a smug grin to her competitor.
To this day, no one is sure how this rivalry came to be, but one thing for certain - it was very entertaining to watch for most involved.
And Caesar was rather willing to instigate strife between the two. After all, he had been on too many gatherings such as this ball. And while he was prone to enjoying them, seeing these two bicker had a very special way of making things a tad bit more entertaining.
Well, no matter, he had his fun, it was time to mingle for a bit.
*****
Speaking of mingling, some people's definition of it was rather… loud.
We are speaking drunken wailing kind of loud.
"Eeeeeh! Brother, this is some fine booze they've found!" Hector said with a flushed face, his simple suit already (somehow) wrinkled, with an occasional spot or two.
"Indeed it is! Very much unlike what they serve on the regular! Let us drink to our heart's content!" proclaimed Leonidas, allowing himself to indulge in the sweet nectar that is alcohol.
"The uncles are drinking again," said Nursery, who observed the drunken company from her corner.
"Alcohol is bad civilization," Altera, wearing a simple dress, expressed her opinion, her voice as even as ever.
"That is true. Which is why we shouldn't take after uncles, right, Nursery?" asked Ushiwakamaru, who absolutely rocked a very nice dress in dark blue colors, flashing a small smile.
The child, whose dress might as well have been the best around due to all the girls gushing over it, bobbed her head with her usual lack of energy, making Ushi almost squeal from the cuteness.
Meanwhile, just a bit away from them, Hans wore the expression of someone contemplating the advantages of drinking heavy poison, just to spare himself the bother of talking to all these people.
Alas, that was not to be.
The first part of the dancing was over and now everyone and their mother was crowding what was left of the very limited space.
Oh joy.
*****
Ritsuka and Mash were a natural center of attention, attracting many a servant, who wanted to spend time with their Master and friend.
That, however, couldn't be said for Roland, no. He was tired. Honestly, more tired than he expected himself to be.
He blamed it on the crowd, honestly. He had never performed in front of too many people and finding out that he was kinda nervous was a discovery and a half.
He wouldn't be a kick-ass fixer if he couldn't nail it though. So he did just that.
The light reflected off of the champagne bottle.
…Well, he could drink to that.
That is, if he wasn't caught by two delicate but firm hands on either side.
"Roland," Boudica gave him a very loaded look.
"You do realize that you have more work to do, yes?" continued Jeanne for her.
Both were stunning in their respective dresses, everyone around could admit that. Except Roland. He was otherwise occupied.
"Oh, come on. I'll just get a taste. A small sip. I haven't got a lick of nice booze since forever. "
"Sorry," Jeanne smiled, her expression saying everything.
Roland scanned them with a flat look and just sighed.
"Fine, it's your win," he said, turning around and walking through the crowd, Charlie eventually lining up with him.
The king was sharply dressed, with a blue tie, black three piece suit and a dazzling smile.
"Here-here," he gave him a knowing look and a conspiratorial wink, a small flask shoved into the fixer's hand.
Roland gave a somewhat alarmed and surprised gaze.
"And what of my… handlers?"
A lopsided smile and…
"LADIES!" a booming voice was his answer, "A most wonderful view! A treat for the eyes and respite for a man's soul!" Iskandar proclaimed out loud, his voice drowning out almost all of the talking and snatching the attention of the entire room.
Roland fought back a tear. The brotherhood was real, the brotherhood stood strong.
Roland took a swig out of the flask. The booze was good stuff. Fixer was now pumped up and ready to face whatever this evening had to throw at him.
*****
He was not ready. Nope.
When Nero hopped on stage and said that the band was disbanded, he was ready to jump with joy. Then, he remembered that the two small goddesses (or whatever they were - he wasn't all too keen on finding out) hadn't performed and grew confused.
And THEN Nero said that, turns out, they had perfectly functional speakers installed into the walls, so that, apparently, everyone could dance to something more modern. And only after that, will the entire ensemble assemble again.
Then, seconds later, he was dragged to the dance floor by Ritsuka. His Master was smiling rather deviously and he would have spotted that, were he not intoxicated with some alcohol.
Alas, when he came up to the dance floor, it was already too late.
And that brings us to the present.
"Orlando," he was pulled out of his thoughts by his dancing partner, who he was forcefully thrown into, "I see no flame in your dance!" she accused.
A pull, a twist.
A slow turn.
"Well, what can I say," he said, a hint of sadness slipping through, "It's really hard to put my heart into this."
A step, another.
Then, whirl and whirl and whirl.
And stop.
"And also, don't call me Orlando," Roland added, the memories of a slightly different (but totally the same) Nero flashing through his mind.
"Oh, Mister, I just will!" the Emperor retorted with some playful spite, and for a moment, a fire of mischief lit in her eyes.
"Oh, jeez," Roland sensed trouble. The kind of trouble Angelica gave him when she was bored.
A spin to the right. A spin to the left.
A slow, elegant turn.
"Umu! How about we make this interesting? A bet perhaps?"
"Well, you have my attention," Roland said, indulging her, all while measuring his step, checking the distance to the other pair of dancers from the corner of his eye.
He honestly didn't know why he'd agreed. Maybe because there wasn't a reason not to? Doesn't matter, anyway.
"Yes-yes! I want you to put on the best performance, befitting of this emperor and our illustrious Master."
"Don't stroke her ego too much, her head just might turn too big," fixer commented jokingly, his eyes trying to find their Master, now that she was mentioned.
"And praetor deserves so much more of it! Umu!" the Emperor affirmed to herself.
' And she is perfectly correct, by the way, ' rang inside of his head. And judging by the pleased look on Nero's face? She heard that too.
The music picked up in pace. The violins wailed, the other instruments receding, becoming just an afterthought.
With it, the dancers too, picked up pace. When previously they all were like the wave, ebbing and flowing, up and down, left and right, now they were a raging storm of people, colors and dresses of every color and style.
"Y'know what? Alright. Sure," Roland accepted the bet and the flames in Nero's eyes turned up in volume.
"Great! The bet is simple!"
The music subdued for a moment and the part of the dance where he took the knee came up.
So he did, waiting patiently for the lady to name her conditions.
And as she Nero made her way behind him she whispered energetically:
"Have fun!"
The next moment, he didn't feel his partner anymore, instead, the other цtook her place.
"Monsieur Roland!"- Marie Antoinette greeted with exalted delight.
"Marie?" the fixer's thoughts stuttered, but his body skillfully carried out the motions, locking their elbows and turning.
" Oui !" she bobbed her head, the jewelry sparking joyfully along with the motion.
"Were you guys planning this whole thing?" he asked, not quite miffed, but rather dumbfounded.
" Non, not quite planned, anyhow. But it's so fun to change partners mid-dance, isn't it?" she beamed at him, and the man couldn't find it in himself to say no.
Not that he wanted to. He didn't care either way.
Suddenly, his partner pouted.
"Don't make that expression, please. It ruins your face."
"What?" he was taken aback, "If you wanted to say that I have a dazzling smile you should've just said so," he replied, a smile filling his face next second.
He didn't really want to ruin it for anyone else.
" Non! Non! You misunderstand!" she shook her head vehemently, "You have this face, like you are not here. And you never let it up! Never! It's such a waste! Even while dancing!" she expressed her (probably pent up) frustrations with him.
He really wanted to check himself out in the mirror. Did he really have that kind of face?
Marie looked at him and giggled, somewhat accusingly.
" Oui, oui, you should think about it more! But after the dance!" she pressed him closer to herself, her body odor tickling his nostrils.
She smelled of sweets, with a tinge of mint.
They whirled again and again, then parted with their hands outstretched to one another, just to then come closer.
At this point, this dance stopped being conventional, the moves changed, turning into something unrecognizible. How everyone kept up with this, will remain forever a mystery for Roland.
…He could definitely trace Nero's handywork here, though.
"A piece of advice, mon ami, loosen up!" she whispered, like she was opening some corp's largest secret.
Just to flutter away the next second, her place being taken by the buxom purple-haired femme-fatale.
And just in time for the music to stop, too.
He stood still for a moment, until she grabbed his hands with an amused smile and an alluring voice.
"We're dancing tango now," she said, pulling him closer, "It seemed like you could really use a distraction from all those petty thoughts scattered in your brain."
He didn't have the chance to retort to that - the music started and he was pulled into the dance of wild energy and unbridled passion.
[Play: Libertango]
Bandoneon played first, setting the whole dance into action.
The motions were explosive, like their feet played the wicked game of cat and mouse.
Step. Step. Step. Forward. Forward. Forward. Quick, rhythmic. Their breathing synced, their hands locked firm.
Roland didn't have the luxury of thought to ponder on the situation, something from inside, driving him to perform his best. He didn't like to half-ass his dances, after all. Just like most of his work.
"Hm, you look quite all-right without that glum look on your face," Medusa noted, her eyes locked behind the dark fabric, but her contentment was carried through her voice well.
"And who set you up for this?" he asked. He knew that she frequented the library, but alas… he didn't have the opportunity to visit, now that she was here. And when he did, most other time they kept to themselves.
"Hm, Master, of course," she sold the ringleader with a catty smile, "She wanted to see you let loose. 'All professional' she said. But truth be told, she hadn't been herself lately and I suspect that she got it from you. Your expressions are… remarkably similar."
They whirred, then slowed down, as Roland craned Rider's body.
Just to burst into action again the next second.
"Though, she hides it well," she said, and he had a distinct impression she was looking him in the eyes, "As do you."
"I'm as chill as a cucumber, and as composed as a man can be" he denied.
"And as boring as a blank wall," she retorted.
He turned sharply, perhaps too sharply, but she matched it effortlessly.
"Excuse you, I'm the most stylish man around," he replied shamelessly and perhaps, a bit affronted.
"Oh, of course. And stuck in the library all the time, you are. No doubt about it," she drawled.
"You…" he groaned, but then he noticed her smile. Aggravatingly playful.
She was leading him on… this snake.
"You're catching on. Good."
They spun around, and with little effort, he threw her up, her purple dress fluttering in the air.
From the corner of his vision, he could see Jalter being thrown up too, while she was cussing her partner. Boudica and Da Vinci too, but they were enjoying it.
Next second, he deftly caught his partner, made some more steps and, in a fluid motion, they locked in a rather provocative position, his hand catching her thigh as she leaned into him.
And with that, the music stopped.
"Mmm," she mused, but then freed herself effortlessly from his grasp, "You are ready."
She walked without looking back, the clanging of her heels echoing in his ears.
Roland had a distinct impression that she was smiling craftily. Watching Rider's back move away, he didn't notice another person, stepping up before him.
"That would be me," Ritsuka said, giving him a teasing glance.
She was wearing a dress already. It was white, with some pinkish rose-like ornaments weaved in, tied with a red strip on her waist.
She did a small curtsy, and he, still a bit stunned from the previous performance, made a small bow in turn, although a bit late.
[Tchaikowsky - Waltz of the Flowers]
Their hands locked, as Roland put his hand on Ritsuka's back. With a seconds delay, the music started.
The brass started off as Roland and Ritsuka flowed into motion, calm and elegant.
A step forward with the left foot, a bit to the right in the next beat.
Roland took the lead of both this conversation and the dance, moving where they needed to move, while talking in a barely perceptible whisper:
"So, 'all dull and professional' huh?" he started with a curveball.
"I never said that," Ritsuka deflected with a perfect, mirror-like smile.
"Maybe not the dull part, no, but the professional…"
She rolled her eyes, with a good-natured smile.
"And sending out a squad to hunt me on the dance floor?"
"Tut-tut, Roland, it almost sounds like you're accusing me of something," her smile strained with deviousness.
"No accusations."
They turned and Ritsuka whirred under his lifted hand, just for them to spin again.
"Just hard cold facts."
She barely shrugged her shoulders, but didn't say anything.
The words that Medusa said bothered him, but… staring intently into her expression, he couldn't find it.
"So, pray tell, dooming me to the week of running errands was all worth it?" he jabbed.
"Oh, yes, totally," she beamed, artificially cranking up the intensity.
"You are very welcome, you know…" he grumbled.
The strings picked up in intensity, carried like the intense wind.
And Ritsuka did something unexpected. She stopped, making him halt as well.
Her mop of orange hair, combed and orderly, glistened with a myriad of different colors, reflected from the crystal chandelier upabove. She might have been smiling before, but now, that very smile got to the corners of her eyes, which flared with emotions Roland rarely got to experience… ever.
It was happiness from having done something for another. A simple joy of giving.
"Thanks Roland," simple words, spoken by a person who genuinely felt it, to a person who didn't expect it.
It was a brief moment. For a total of five beats they were left out of the music. But it felt infinitely longer.
And perhaps… some genuine gratitude was what they both needed. For the life they had led, for the things they had to do.
"You are welcome," Roland replied, and quickly caught on with the beat, evading the other pair and moving a tad quicker.
As the dance continued, however, Roland had another question.
"Who set me up not to drink, though?" Pretender asked.
"Oh, that was Mash," Ritsuka sold Shielder out, "She doesn't really like it when people she likes get piss drunk."
"Yeeep!" someone yelped while on the move.
Well, even if Roland heard anything… He didn't let it show.
"I don't like it either, so I approved of it," she flashed him a cocky smile, which he could only mirror.
This brat…
It was only then that he realized that... He lost that bet to Nero.
They gave themselves to the dance after that, lost in the moment and in the flow of music.
*****
[Play: Clair de Lune]
Roland's fingers gently caressed the keys, as he let himself get carried away by the sounds.
It's been half an hour since most people either dispersed or left for the Asian venue to drink some tea. Roland stayed however.
It has been… a while since he had one-on-one time with piano. And, maybe, just maybe, the dances he had made him a bit too open with himself and his own emotions.
Or maybe, this was the way to soothe those very emotions? He, frankly, didn't know. Not that it mattered.
And the music continued to stream, looping into itself as he lost himself between the notes.
Not enough to let his guard down, however.
Delicate, subdued clacking resounded through the venue. Bathed in the always-setting sun, a familiar face approached him.
"How do you feel?" Ritsuka asked, having stepped up to the piano.
"Fine, I guess?" he said back, still pressing the correct keys. It was kind of tough to remember things like these from memory, so he was rather concentrated. Though, his body remembered everything, so it wasn't that hard.
"I mean, you are all sulky, alone, playing sad piano and whatnot. Very unlike your happy-go-lucky, devil-may-care, sit-in-the-library attitude," Master asked, the bite in her words hardly counting as one.
"Oh shush you…" he smirked, flashing her a half-hearted glare. "I wanted to ask you the same, actually. I might not have noticed, but you haven't been much better yourself, from what I heard,"
"Heard?" she raised a brow.
"From Medusa," Roland said, "I didn't notice it, honestly, but things like these tend to take time to spot. Shame I had to run around all the time," this once he just stated a fact.
Roland didn't see it, but he could swear that she rolled her eyes.
Fixer's fingers hovered above the keys, until they came to an abrupt stop. His gaze, unusually serious, zoned in on her.
"Let's cut to the chase, okay? What's been bothering you?" Roland said, and Ritsuka couldn't help flinching, like a cat caught flinging things from a shelf.
"What if I said that I'm fine?" she asked, no, pleaded with this question. For him to opt out and not to ask this. To make this conversation befitting of a joyous evening of dancing and mirth.
He didn't answer, opting not to push her.
"Ha, fine. I guess it's a little bit of everything?" she admitted, quite easily to his surprise. "Mash dying, that, plus summoning everyone back… It's a very weird feeling to have people you send to die walk around alive," the amount of disdain she said the last part with could kill someone.
It being directed probably at herself… was not a good sign, however.
She made a few steps towards him and sat on the long, cushioned chair fixer was sitting on. Her back turned to him, she continued, wistful and morose.
"It's a weird mix of emotions, Roland. I came to love every servant that walks these halls, you know? They are my pillars of strength, they give me hope and I match their expectations. Because if I'm not positive, then how are we supposed to push through everything?" she said this with longing and warmth he had heard a lot in the Library. You speak in such a way about the people you truly hold dear.
She breathed in, deeply and heavily, the weight of her thoughts now apparent in the barely discernible pieces, scattered all over her countenance. In a small wrinkle on her forehead, in a dimmed gaze in her eyes, in a tied tongue.
The sharp nails made specifically for the occasion, bit into the pale skin.
"But… I guess, there is a limit to that too…" she stared somewhere to her right, through the walls and lonely corridors. To the letter, lying on the table.
And signed, shaking her head.
"But, let's not talk about it today, alright?" she said, more than she asked, "This's been a really good day so far. I haven't been so relaxed in what felt like years. So my thanks was genuine, Roland."
"...Yeah, I figured that much," Pretender said, "And alright, let's cut it at that. Do you want me to play something? You know, while we are still sitting here and piano is all for ourselves…"
"That would be nice," she bobbed her head, "Do you have anything more… uplifting?"
"I think I got you… It's the first thing that me and Angelica played together. It's pretty nice"
[Play: OMORI: Duet (Piano)]
And so he started, the notes flowing down one after the other, then, a pause… And then, a simple, tender melody, that always managed to bring out a small smile out of him.
He and Ritsuka allowed themselves to get absorbed in the music. It was light and slightly solemn. Peaceful, yet mournful. But hopeful, above all else.
The motive repeated, again, again, flowing further, flowing higher. Climbing to the higher notes until the resolution came, the flow turned into a stream.
It was soft, childlike, until a pause.
Roland's fingers deftly pressed the keys, one after another - a quick, rising and falling, one after another. Like the ups and downs of life. The melody bloomed, and with it, Roland seemed to be glowing with emotion too.
The smile, which until moments ago was content, turned wistful and relieved. Until only two notes, a pair of tugging emotions, intertwined and ended the piece.
They sat in silence soaking in the residue of the feelings, until Ritsuka broke it.
"You know, when I aksed for 'uplifting' I didn't mean this kind of 'all-over-the-place uplifting'," she accused jokingly.
"Don't know what you are talking about. I only have good memories about it," Roland denied.
"...What's even more jarring, I think it helped," she admitted.
"See?" the corners of his lips twitched.
"So, you and Angelica used to play this? How did it come to that?" she changed the topic.
"Well," he mused for a second, recollecting, "It was the first piece that she made me play ever since I finished those piano lessons. She said she always wanted to play the violin's part in this one, but… her brother didn't know how to play the piano. Something along the lines of liking strings more," Roland's face contorted in slight disgust. Remembering Argalia in any capacity didn't sit well with him.
"Hmm…" Ritsuka didn't have anything to say to that. Her mind, instead, was pulled towards their first meeting. Even then, Roland mentioned someone called a 'blue sicko'. And if her reading his expression was right, then Angelica's brother and the sicko was the same person.
She glanced up, to the ceiling, noting the slightly dimmed light.
Her first meeting with Roland was an interesting one, wasn't it? The first Pretender in Chaldea. She was quite bummed after… London, to say the least. So finding something new and interesting was… invigorating. Helped her take her mind off things. And with the newly summoned Pretender she learned about a new time and who he worked… for.
It clicked. It all finally clicked for her.
Now, what was left is to verify. And to do it boldly, not to let him get away. This guy was sleazy, after all.
"Actually, I had another thing I wanted to talk to you about, and now seems like the best time to do it."
"Well, shoot," he said, cracking his fingers, about to start playing another piece.
"So… Roland, are you actually alive?" she asked.
His fingers unceremoniously dropped on the leys, the barrage of sound serving as if his mind came to a screeching halt.
"…So you figured it out," he said a second later, finally recovering, "What gave me away?"
"Well, a few things. Your summoning, you being unable to dematerialize. Overall… incongruity with everything. Like the tiny things not fitting into the frame, you know? And, do you remember, when we first met? When I was giving you a tour of Chaldea?"
"Yeah," he said, starting to vaguely catch up on what she was talking about.
"Well… it just came back to me. I didn't pay it much mind at the time but…"
It clicked for Roland.
And as soon as it did, he face-palmed himself with a frightening intensity.
"Yeah," Ritsuka responded to that with a dry smile, "Saying that you 'currently work' for someone or whatever gave you away. I'm kinda cross with myself for not catching it the first time." she managed a wry smile. That was pretty embarrassing, wasn't it?
Well, the jig was up, officially now.
"Any questions you might want to ask?" he asked, fighting down the shame he felt.
He grew too lax from his time in the Library and slipped, just like that.
"Well, how did all this come to be? Why did you come here? How? All the important ones, you know?"
He closed the piano's lid and turned to her.
"It started something like this…"
*****
The books I read
Told me there is hope as long as I live
…
Pretend I don't need golden rings
Re-experiment
Only this time I'll play nice
And I'll be brighter than the city's book-powered fires
-Poems of the Machine,
Mili
"What if I told you, that there is a way for me to become human again… would you help me, Roland?"
Fixer scratched the back of his head, expression pensive.
It's really weird how an otherwise ordinary morning could go in a completely unexpected direction.
He probably should have expected that, when Angela asked him to come to their 'usual' place, where they used to watch the invitations together.
Roland gave Angela a once over. He didn't know how to react to all of this. He was half-sure she would say that it was some kind of joke…
But Angela wasn't that kind of person. And her face gave little room for doubt. Unusually serious.
…Either way, it's not that he really needed to think about this one.
"Sure, Angela, what do you need me to do?"
Yep, just like that.
For a moment, Angela's face turned from cold tension to slight disbelief, to an exasperated, amused acceptance.
Roland's lips twitched with a touch of smugness, but soon reverted back to seriousness.
"Listen, Angela, judging by how dark and gloomy you were the last couple of days…"
"I was not…" she tried to refute but it fell on deaf ears.
"I figured something like this would've happened. I mean, maybe you weren't expecting me to accept this easily – but we've known each other for how long? I trust you not to throw me to the rats."
"Even if it will take you turning into Light again?" she quipped back, her tone this time brisk and biting.
Why would she ask him to, then…? A thought struck him and he waved his hand, leaning back into the armchair, smiling with the corners of his mouth.
"I see what you are doing there. Don't try to make me feel like I'm losing something out of this so I refuse your offer. Just lay out everything before me so we can think about it together, hash it out and come up with a plan."
Angela sighed and kept her silence.
Now, this wasn't the sight of the usually unflappable Angela he was used to.
"Hey, Angela, this isn't like you. Where's the woman that cut off my limbs the first time I showed up?" Roland smiled, almost tenderly.
The last he saw her like this was before Hana was invited. Brooding and indecisive.
"This is… no laughing matter, Roland," she was clearly annoyed, but ignored him largely, "I'm just not sure if this would be worth it. If it was only myself that was involved… but I'll also need your help. More than that, you are going to go through more hardship," her hands curled slightly, her gaze intently trying to make a hole in the furniture.
Oh, so she was just worried about him. Now everything made sense.
"Stop with that and just tell me what's the deal. I'll repeat myself, but I really don't think you'll throw something at me, that would 100% kill me."
They locked eyes and he could see how she eased a bit.
And then, she started explaining.
*SNAP*
A large tome with a very intricate and fascinating symbol, almost feeling like it was woven out of the rainbow, dropped on the table.
"Book of Kaleidoscope? What's that?" he raised his eyes from the book.
"It appeared two days ago on a random bookshelf, completely out of nowhere."
'Reminds me of how I turned up here…' Fixer thought.
"It contains… a magic," she said, and Roland couldn't quite say if she just didn't know where to start or was unwilling to.
"So, like Pluto's?" he probed.
"No, not entirely. It's not important, just think that the things Pluto did are on a much smaller scale compared to what's written here," Angela waved at the tome, her eyes momentarily lost in thought.
Roland couldn't help whistling. He played around with Pluto's page on occasion, when he had nothing to do, so he knew the guy was pretty good at this whole 'magic' thing.
Looks like there was a bigger fish in that lake.
"And what'd it say?"
"Alternative realities are more real than we expected, and Purple Tear is not the only one who could access them."
For a second, he was confused. For another, he was frowning. And another – he shrugged.
"Guess someone fucked around enough to create another old hag," Roland replied off-handedly.
"If only it was that simple…" Angela shook her head, but decided to reach the crux of the matter, "Besides that, the book explored the topics of history of Magic and magecraft, with the focus on the second true magic, called Kaleidoscope."
"So, the thing that's written on the tin," he nodded. He didn't pay much attention to the magecraft part. Clearly, it wasn't important.
"Yes. It also went on to expand on the general terminology magi used. Like the Root, or Akasha."
Those sounded important. Roland felt like he was itching closer to the most important part.
He nodded for her to go on.
"It serves as the Root of all creation. And those who manage to break through to the Root, gain the ability to use whatever Magic they've perfected, with caster bearing no cost, as it is taken by the Akasha itself," she kept explaining patiently.
"This helps you regain humanity, how, exactly?"
"We make the Root power the Library. Light was a finite resource…"
"But the source of all creation isn't." Roland finished her thought, wide-eyed and impressed. "That sounds great. How do we do that?"
And he was a go-getter at heart, so went straight for the throat.
But as he looked at Angela, he realized that, once again, life wouldn't be throwing him any freebies.
"Oh, right, can't be that simple," he slapped himself on the forehead, berating his own naïveté.
"Correct. In the book, it is shared that the Kaleidoscope was the integral part of the Holy Grail war. A Ritual aimed to reach the Root. Whoever kills six other heroic spirits in a battle royale, gets to share the cup with their summoner and ask for one wish."
"Like, any wish?" he found it important to ask. Things like these usually had the fine print.
"It wasn't specified," Angela sensed his concerns and very much mirrored them.
"Sounds good enough so far…" it did not, in fact, sound good, it was actually sketchy as hell, but the conversation had to go somewhere, "What of those heroic spirits?"
"They are souls of the heroes of great renown from, probably, before even the City's time."
That gave the fixer a pause. Before City's time? That's… sorta cool isn't?
"Okay, wish we could summon one. I'm kinda curious how things were before."
"Yes, they are sure to be a trove of potential knowledge," she nodded, smiling a little, "They are also technically not alive," she raised her brows a little, to convey her point.
He got it clear.
'We are technically not killing anyone, so it's alright.'
He didn't think much of that. Angela would rather not kill anyone who didn't deserve it, but Roland, while sympathizing with that conviction of hers, knew that if they wanted to get to the bottom of why both of them had to suffer – blood would need to be spilt.
He just hoped it would be on the smaller side.
"I think Malkuth would be very excited at the prospect," Angela noted, a small, barely perceptible smile tugging at her lips.
Her feuds with the Librarians were long since over. Relationships were mended and now, they could speak normally with each other. Even with some warmth.
Roland's mind latched on a specific part of the sentence that was before.
"'Of great renown', so like, what level are we talking?"
"I do not know the exact metrics, but probably along the lines of Gebura at the peak of her career, with the strength to match. Or more."
Damn, that's set the bar quite high. But considering she was asking this of him…
"You've settled on me – why?"
"Other than the reason, that there needs someone to protect the Library? I said it takes people of great renown. Out of every Librarian, only four people fit the description, being me, you, Binah and Gebura. However, I cannot say for sure, that either Gebura or Binah could qualify, only their past lives. Besides… they are not my best friend."
...Roland wouldn't be ashamed to admit that no small amount of warmth spread through his chest.
"Besides, you being an information broker and specialized in covert work, adds to your possible success," she added later.
A glee mixed with mischief splattered inside of her yellow eyes .
"Oh, well, it's great that you realize how great I am," he puffed his chest in mock (or maybe not) pride, "So, I get the goal of this whole thing, and what I'm gonna be up against. What about where?"
"…Unfortunately, there isn't much I can help you with. After all, we do not have the map of a place called 'Fuyuki' in our procession," she said, her tone not betraying how much she disliked not having that information.
"Eh, whatever," wouldn't be his first rodeo going in blind, "How are we doing it, anyway? You mentioned turning me into Light."
"Yes. We'll have to… fake your state of being, to put it simply. The Heroic Spirits are all drafted from a place that exists outside the time and space, and contains the souls of everyone deemed a heroic spirit. Which are then summoned under the seven primary classes or some auxiliary ones, if the situation requires it."
Okay, he was following so far.
"So, let me guess, you kinda fake my death by turning me into Light and then… how are you going to make it think that I can be drafted?"
"This very Library fits the definition of the Throne very well. A world within a world, unbound by the rules of the normal one and timeless. It will be my role to make it reach here, where your soul lies, instead of the Throne."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Hold up, let's backtrack a little," he said, waving his hands in a stopping motion, "Why do you think I'm even supposed to be in that Throne thingy?"
She raised a brow. He knew that gesture very well. She did it every time he said something stupid out loud.
Small smile froze on his face, along with the rest of his body.
"Other than you bringing total devastation on The Middle, as well as being the Librarian and being mistaken for your wife?"
Ok, ouch. He got her point, but now she won't stop until he thoroughly gets it.
"Because I'll make it happen," and that's it. Smug and confident. No explanations.
…He'll just take it. If Angela tells you she got it, then she got it.
"Yes, ma'am, sorry ma'am, you are the most capable, ma'am. I'll trust you, ma'am."
"Hm," she 'hmd' at him, sounding a bit condescending.
It was also time they get back on track.
"What if I lose? Not that I'm going to or anything but…" he brought up another piece that interested him.
"Then your soul will return to the Library, as per our contract."
"Contract?" he cocked a brow, and the next moment, a scroll appeared before him.
"Yes, this one. To simplify, after signing, your soul is to return to the Library, should you be 'killed'."
He had to admit, using Yesterday's promise in such a way - to bind a soul, had never come to him.
"…How foolproof is this?" he asked to be sure.
"It is foolproof," she assured.
He read the contract that consisted of no more than five lines. No dry language bullshit, only the facts – should he die, his soul is to return. Effective upon the body's death.
This probably wouldn't work as he is now, flesh and bone and all, but as something made of Light, there probably would be less restrictions on that kind of thing.
Or there will be. He wasn't a fucking magician, he wouldn't know.
"…Alright. Last thing, though. This entire thing sounds like a huge bet…" he said, trying to put his feelings into words, but Angela interrupted him.
"That's because this is a bet. Like the one I've taken following the invitations. Like the one I've taken by employing you."
He licked his lips, trying to find what to answer.
"That first one didn't turn out all that well," he pointed out.
"But that last one made it all worth it," she quipped back, resolute.
He smiled.
"Touche."
She smiled back.
"Alright, I'm sold on this whole idea. Sounds sketchy as all hell, but if I can't put my trust into you, then I might as well just take a stroll to the nearest ruin, see how long I will last."
"Please, don't joke like that," she said, closing her eyes.
"Yeah-yeah," he went over this plan again.
They went over 'why, where, how'. 'When' is impossible to know, 'who' is pretty much random.
Guess there was only one other thing to ask.
"What do I do if things go tits up?"
The Director's lips thinned.
"There is a contingency option. In case acquiring the grail is impossible, you'll need to collect the souls the… old way," the way her already metallic body stiffened made it all the more apparent that the idea wasn't to her liking, "You'll have to utilize your abilities as a servant to bring them to the Library. It's going to be one of your Noble Phantasms, after all."
Aaaand she officially lost him.
"Don't worry. I'll have the book explaining the basics of being a servant ready before your leave. On that account, we must also ask your Assistants for help. I would be a lot less worried if I knew you had backup, were you ever to utilize your floor," Angela said, having enough computing power to predict this, so she had.
"…Sure, though, I'll cross-check things with ya when I read through everything."
"Of course," she nodded, "Can you go and gather everyone here? So we could discuss the plan in more detail."
Roland bobbed his head and stood up, then briskly walked out of the room.
*****
What Roland didn't get to witness, was a conversation of three people, just seconds after he had left.
"Binah, Hokma," she said, not turning to greet the uninvited visitors, "Your timing is impeccable," the human-machine voiced.
"We have been thinking of the equation you had left us with," Hokma said.
"It has been the most entertaining one indeed," Binah smiled with an almost predatory quality to it, then continued and her smile grew wider, "To consider cutting off one part of your own being, to allow another to harness it. A truly peculiar riddle, for a truly outlandish task."
"Angela," Hokma eyed Binah for a moment, but turned his eyes fully to his creation, "Do you think it wise to follow through with this plan?"
His voice almost brimmed with… concern. A concern a father usually has for his daughter.
Angela turned to them. Nothing to be found in her eyes but resolution, most in the City wouldn't believe belonged to a lifeless AI made of metal and code.
Hokma heaved a sigh.
"I see. It is a path of your choosing. I have no intention to stop you," Hokma conceded, taking a step back.
"Indeed. You are to give us a most interesting showing."
"Binah, I'm not doing this for your entertainment," Angela responded more out of instinct, then actual spite.
"I certainly know that," the Patron of Philosophy nodded, and her previous amusement disappeared like morning dew. "That is why overseeing the ripples of your actions will be a most curious endeavor. But I digress. To answer the riddle, you left with us – isolating one of the floors would be possible. Should you wish it."
"But we do not know the consequences such an action might bring. It's possible you might get damaged," Hokma continued.
And Angela just nodded.
After all, she knew that for this to work, risks must be taken.
And she couldn't leave Roland and his Assistants to be the only one to carry the burden.
"Very well. Thank you both for your wisdom," Angela answered humbly.
Hokma nodded, and something reminiscent of a contentment sprawled on Binah's face.
"We will take our leave then," Patron of Religion said and the two retreated to their floors.
Angela let out a small sigh and got a grip on her emotions.
This time for sure, they will get out of this cocoon.
*****
"So, that's how that happened, more or less. And the rest is history," Roland explained. This whole explanation took about twenty - thirty minutes, which was rather long, all things considered.
Ritsuka, for her part, pondered.
"So," she finally said, "I have… quite a few things I want to say. But first… Thanks for telling, Roland. you didn't really have to, nothing would have change, but I appreciate the gesture. Just so you know."
He grinned.
"You are good people, Ritsuka, and I don't give that distinction lightly. So yeah, thanks."
"Though, I glad that situation did go 'tits up' " she quoted with her fingers, "Hard to come by such capable workers, nowadays," she said, snickering good-naturedly.
"Oh, piss off…" he waved her off.
"Yeah-yeah, anyway," she changed the topic and stood up, "How about we talk about it more in depth some other time? Like, when it's not a ball and we didn't spend time and energy just to sit, sulking near the piano?"
She… made a great point, actually.
"Sounds good to me. Lead the way, Master," he nodded and they crossed the venue, went up the stairs and walked into the japanese haven of madness, tea and comfort.
And partied long into the night.