Chapter 36: Grand Theft Imouto
Grand Theft Imouto
"Y-Yes! P-Please, take me home!"
Five words.
Five words that Illya had been wanting to say since forever. Five words that expressed just how much she hated it at the Einzbern-castle, and how much she would prefer to be literally anywhere else.
It didn't matter that she hardly knew Emiya Shirou, or that she barely had an idea of where she would be going. It didn't matter whether he lived in a proper home or just a hovel. As long as there were people there that loved her and provided warmth, it would be infinitely superior to the Einzbern-castle.
Some might say she was taking a risk, going with someone she barely knew, but Illya wasn't worried. She knew that she could trust Emiya Shirou with her life and everything else.
Which was quite the contrast with how she'd felt about him only months before. For most of the past eight years, she hadn't been fond of the redhead at all, to put it very mildly.
After all, Kiritsugu had adopted him at exactly the same time he'd seemingly abandoned Illya, which had made it seem like her father had replaced her. For years, the little girl had thought that he had forgotten her now that he had a new son, one that was purely his, not a stupid Homunculus that he had to share with others.
Illya had hated that son. She had hated him with the passion of a thousand suns. Every bit of anger, grief, and hate that she should have felt towards her parents for abandoning her and towards the Einzbern for abusing her was aimed at that boy. It was easy to hate him, and grandfather had only encouraged it.
She wanted to crush him. She wanted to obliterate every facet of him. To grind his bones into dust, to feed his organs to the wolves, to take his head with her as a trophy, and erase every memory of him. She wanted to make him feel the pain that she had felt for so long and then some.
In her mind, she could just picture him. A black-haired, black-eyed, younger version of Emiya Kiritsugu, with an incredible natural talent for assassination, with all the characteristics and talents that their father wanted in a son, that made their father love him more than her.
Her every waking moment had been haunted by that spectre of her father's perfect son. He was always there, standing just behind her, smirking confidently, secure in the knowledge that Kiritsugu preferred him over her.
She wanted to punch the teeth out of that smug mouth!
Even the creation of Sella and Leysritt, her beloved maids, did very little to stem her hate for him. She had people to love again, but her rage toward the thief, towards the one who had stolen the home that could have been hers, remained.
It seemed as if that was how things were fated to be, with the sister hating the brother for things beyond his control, but then, suddenly, something had happened to change that. Someone had interfered to change Illya's fate.
She had been granted a visit from her parents, in her dreams. From beyond the grave, they had spoken with her, and had been able to settle her raging emotions and heal her broken heart.
Illya still had no idea how it was possible, how dead people could suddenly appear in her dreams with such clarity, but it had happened. Irisviel and Kiritsugu had visited her, and with that visit, everything had become clear.
Her father hadn't betrayed the Einzbern. He had been betrayed by the Einzbern. The Einzbern, who had not listened for a second to his reasons for destroying the Grail, and who had done their very best to turn Illya against her father to make sure she would remain their little puppet and fulfil her role of becoming a vessel for the Lesser Grail.
Kiritsugu hadn't abandoned her. He had wanted to saveher, to make her part of his family again, but grandfather had stopped him, and he didn't have the strength to break into the castle anymore because of that damned Grail.
The boy he had adopted wasn't a perfect younger version of Kiritsugu, who was unbearably smug about having been chosen by their father. He was a victim of the butchery that was the Grail War, just like her, one who had desperately needed help and had gotten it from their father.
Emiya Shirou. That was his name. It was the name of her father's son, and her little brother, though with how she looked and how old she felt, it was perhaps better to call him her big brother. That was the man who would come to save her. Kiritsugu had sworn it.
And Emiya Shirou had fulfilled his father's promise. He was here, in the Einzbern-castle, to save her.
"T-Take me home, S-Shirou. I-I want to leave t-this place."
Illya wished she could have kept her voice from stuttering, that she could have remained as cool and calm as her brother, but the massive mixture of emotions overwhelmed her. At this point, it was difficult enough to stop herself from bawling like a baby, never mind keep her voice perfectly even.
It didn't matter anyway. Unlike the rest of her family, who would have punished her for every loss of control they witnessed and every crack in her elegant façade they could find, her big brother didn't twitch a single muscle at her stutter, rather he kept smiling at her, probably not even thinking about her lapse.
Just like their father.
"I couldn't agree more. Let's get out of here and go home immediately." Shirou nodded. "It doesn't seem like anyone has noticed my entrance yet, but there is little sense in taking unnecessary risks by staying longer than we need to."
"Uh, y-yeah." Illya agreed, a bit taken aback by how quickly things were moving all of a sudden.
"I'm sorry for being so abrupt, but since we're in enemy territory right now, it's better if we left at once." Shirou explained, taking a step forward and holding out his arms to take hold of her. "Don't worry, we'll talk more when we're safely back in my… 'base'. Now, I have a foolproof plan to get us out of here-"
"Wait!" Illya held up her hands to stop him from coming closer, resolutely preventing him from continuing. "We can't leave yet!"
"We can't?" Shirou cocked his head in confusion at her statement, but he obediently stepped back from her and lowered his arms again. "Is this about your stuff? If so, you don't need to worry about it. We can just take it with us."
"It's not about my stuff! I don't care about most of it, though some things are important, but I'll show you later." Illya rambled, before shaking her head to regain some focus. "It's about my maids."
And that was the crux of the matter. The biggest reason why Illya didn't want to leave immediately.
Sella and Leysritt.
Her honorary big sister and honorary little sister respectively. The only people who had shown her a shred of kindness over the past eight years since her parents had left. The only people in the entirety of the Einzbern-castle that she didn't want to lose.
That was why, even though she knew it was wiser and strategically sounder to immediately leave the castle, and even though she knew she was making her brother's life harder with her selfishness, she couldn't leave just yet.
Not before Sella and Leysritt were there with them.
"Your maids?" Shirou still looked confused, her short explanation not having made things much clearer for him.
"Sella and Leysritt. My personal Homunculus-maids." Illya nodded emphatically, pressing her hands together and giving him her best puppy dog eyes. "They were always really nice to me, and I love them; can we please take them with us when we go?"
Illya knew she was asking for a lot. The Einzbern-castle, for all that she despised it, was an incredibly well-defended place. More than a thousand years' worth of Bounded Fields and other Magical defences surrounded and permeated the area, and dozens upon dozens of combat-Homunculi stood ready to vanquish any invader who survived more than a few seconds within those Bounded Fields.
That her brother had managed to break in unnoticed was a spectacular achievement, one that boggled Illya's mind and defied her every expectation. Undoubtedly, it had cost him immense effort and a great amount of time. And even then, every second spent inside the castle held the risk of being discovered.
In such circumstances, it was utterly insane to stay in the castle to wait for two Homunculi. To take such risks for mere puppets was ridiculous, and Illya was prepared to receive a harsh refusal.
She would argue with everything she had, but she also knew she was at a great disadvantage. Shirou was risking his life by breaking in, and every moment he remained in the room only increased the danger.
What had she expected? That he would just nod to her request and immediately start making-
"Sure." Shirou nodded with a pensive look in his eyes. "It will be a bit difficult to go out and find them on such short notice, but I should be able to do it."
"…Really?"
Illya did not dare believe her ears. Had he really…? Did he just…?
"Yes, of course." Her brother nodded again, looking for all the world as if it was obvious that he would accept her request. "If you want me to take them with us, then I'll take them with us."
'But that is impossible!' Illya wanted to shout, but her sheer relief over his easy acceptance and the immense confidence that he radiated prevented her from saying a single word.
"Do you have any idea where they are?" Her brother continued, taking a look around the room, and for some reason Illya got the sense he was looking through the walls.
"I-I don't know where they are." Illya brought out with some difficulty, as her mind was still stuck at the part where he had accepted her request without a single word of protest.
"I see." Her brother frowned in thought, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall, before he began thinking out loud. "Let's see. Since I don't know who they are, I'll have to take you with me to identify them during the search. I don't like the idea of exposing you to such danger, but I don't think a description of their physical features would be enough to find and identify them, considering they're Homunculi, like most other beings in this place. I could try to follow their scents, but there are so many Homunculus-scents around it is hard to keep track of them all, not to mention I don't know what they smell like to begin with. Perhaps if I-"
"They'll come to my room." Illya interrupted him when she caught up to what was going on. "We just have to wait for them. They'll be here soon."
"Really?"
"Yes. They always come to my room after they've finished their chores."
"Well, that makes things a lot easier." Her brother smiled, looking even more confident than before. "If we can just wait here, there shouldn't be any problems whatsoever."
"But the Bounded Fields-"
"Don't notice me." He finished her sentence with a careless wave of his hand, and however much Illya wanted to protest, the fact that no single alarm had sounded yet despite his presence in her room supported his claim.
"Then what about if someone comes to visit me?" She continued her questioning. "Someone who isn't Sella and Leysritt?"
It was unlikely, considering no one except her maids ever visited her room aside from her grandfather once in a blue moon, but you never knew.
"Then I'll hide. I'm good at that." Shirou's smile didn't falter, and he looked at her door. "Though perhaps I need to make my own warning system, to make sure we aren't caught off guard."
Her brother then waved his hand again, a sense of power filling the room, and before Illya's astounded eyes, an array of Runes formed over her door. The array was more complicated than any other she'd ever seen, even in the ancient books on Runes, yet Shirou had created it as if it was nothing but a trifle.
He hadn't even drawn them, he'd just gestured, and they appeared by themselves. She had known that he was a very skilled Magus, but this went way beyond that. That was a trick worthy of the ancient Rune Masters of the Celts.
Was Shirou actually a descendant of the Celtic Gods? Was that possible?
"That array will notify us of anyone approaching this room." Shirou nodded in satisfaction, before gesturing at a chair in the corner of the room. "May I?"
"Of course." Illya nodded automatically, focusing on him again, the Runic Array quickly slipping from her mind as she remembered she had far more important things to think about.
Things like finally getting to know her big brother, not as a psychotic tool of vengeance, like her grandfather had wanted, but as the well-raised and well-mannered daughter of Irisviel von Einzbern.
She had a reputation of a high-class scion to uphold, and though she'd rather flubbed on that so far, she had every intention of doing it right from now on. Her mother hadn't raised her to be a boor, no sir.
As Shirou took his chair to the middle of the room and sat down, Illya quickly grabbed her own, tailor-made chair –comfortable and imposing, yet small enough for her to sit on– and placed it opposite of him, so she could look him in the eyes while they talked.
"As I said before, my name is Emiya Shirou." Her brother spoke up first, and Illya eagerly leaned forward, glad that he was taking the initiative. "Though I should warn you that I call myself Shirou Fujimaru at the Clocktower. Using our real name would be… inadvisable."
"Because of dad's…" Illya began, before trailing off slowly, not sure what she should call it.
"Because of dad's infamy, indeed." Shirou filled in for her, and she nodded gratefully.
"Alright, I'll keep it in mind. But then, what should I call myself?" Illya asked curiously, a number of aliases going through her mind, most of them taken from her books and series. "Fujimaru as my last name of course, but I can't call myself Illya, can I? That's a very recognisable name, so perhaps I can be Lily? Or Pauline? Rosanna maybe?"
"If everything goes well, you won't have to introduce yourself to anyone in the Clocktower at all." Shirou shook his head, his eyes shining with mirth at her suggestions. "Which is for the best, considering your…"
"My Homunculus looks." Illya finished his sentence for him, noticing he seemed unsure whether he could mention that, and he nodded in response. "So, if I understand you correctly, we won't be going to the Clocktower?"
"No, I will in fact be going back to the Clocktower after we escape from here, and you will come with me, but you won't be visible." Shirou explained, the small smile on his face giving Illya a foreboding feeling. "I'll show you what I have planned for that once your maids arrive. I guarantee you'll like it."
"O-kay." Illya agreed hesitantly, wondering what he was up to with a mixture of apprehension and excitement. "But after you're done at the Clocktower, will we go home?"
"Yes, we will." Shirou nodded immediately. "I just have to finish a few things in London, and then we will go to Fuyuki. I have a house there, dad bought it for us after he adopted me, so it's your house too. I should warn you though that I have other housemates as well, so please try to get along with them."
"The purple-haired girl and the brunette girl, right?" Illya asked, remembering what her dreams had shown her.
"…Yes." Her brother frowned heavily at her words, and Illya realised there should have been no way for her to know about those girls. "How did you know? Are the Einzbern-?"
"No! No, they are not watching you." She assured him quickly. "Believe me, they can't watch you, as in, they are physically unable to. There has been a lot of grumbling about that, but they can't. They had a hell of a time even just trying to figure out your name, and they haven't been able to do anything more than that."
"Then how do you know about Ayako and Sakura?"
"I dreamt about them."
Illya spilled the beans just like that.
There were a few moments of complete silence following her declaration, and Illya realised yet again how silly she had to sound. But, instead of rejecting her words, as she had expected, Shirou leaned forward slightly.
"Can you elaborate?" He requested, looking very serious.
So that was what she did. She told him about Kiritsugu and Irisviel visiting her in her dreams several months ago, and how they had told her about Shirou, and how she was being regularly updated through her dreams on how Shirou was doing, which was how she'd known he would be coming for her, even if she was unaware about most of the details.
By the end of her tale, her brother had leaned back in his chair again, pinching the bridge of his nose and muttering something about 'meddling aliens'. He remained like that for a moment, before he visibly pushed the subject out of his mind.
"Alright, any strange dreams aside, I'm glad to hear that the Einzbern haven't been able to gather any information about me." He sighed, before giving her a small smile. "And I am even more happy that you got to speak with your parents again. Also, I must say that it's quite convenient that you know so much about me already. Saves me some time having to explain things."
"It's not like I know a lot." She protested, giving him a low-level pout, one that served to express sadness. "Actually, I know almost nothing about you, Shirou."
Her pouts worked wonders with Sella and Leysritt, and it turned out to be very effective against her brother as well.
"Ah… D-Don't worry, I'll tell you everything you want to know." He assured her immediately, looking slightly panicked at her expression.
"You will!?" Instantly dropping her pout, Illya beamed up at her big brother.
"Of course." He quickly assured her. "Eh, but where to start?"
"How about you start with your girlfriends?" Illya began leadingly, feeling the natural curiosity every little sister has for her big brother's lovers, even if she couldn't place that feeling yet. "And then you can tell me about your life with dad?"
"Oh, yeah, sure." He agreed easily enough. "Hm, but should I tell you about…?"
"About what?" She prompted, but for the first time in their conversation, he ignored her.
Then he looked back at her with a determined look in his eyes.
"Alright, I have decided. We'll do it as you suggested, and after that, I will tell you about Mjolnir."
"Mjolnir?" Illya blinked in confusion. "What does the hammer of Thor have to do with anything?"
"I'll explain later." Shirou waved her question away, before he began his tale.
And Illya forgot all about his strange words as she eagerly listened to her brother's stories about his girlfriends and about his life with their father.
"CROWN!"
The enraged screech cut straight through the peaceful atmosphere that had been present before at the small shrine, and Merem Solomon, twentieth of the Dead Apostle Ancestors, also known as 'Crown', sighed deeply as his peaceful meditation was interrupted.
He'd gone through all the trouble to build himself a personal shrine, located deep in the catacombs of Kraków, for some privacy, yet it seemed he had been found anyway, by a very old friend.
"Hello, Gransurg." He kindly greeted the immense black bird that was now perched on the shoulder of a statue of the Lady Maria, turning his head around slightly, though he remained kneeled before the cross. "There was no need to shout. I was meditating."
"You were nodding off." The bird, Gransurg Blackmore, sixteenth of the Dead Apostle Ancestors, corrected him. "I called your name six times, but you didn't notice."
"…I didn't? Ahahahaha." Merem laughed sheepishly, knowing he'd been caught in a lie. "Do forgive me, old friend."
The bird didn't react to being called friend, and instead clacked its beak once to acknowledge and accept Merem's apology.
"What brings you here?" Merem continued the conversation. "You normally avoid shrines like a human does the plague."
"I was searching for you." The bird replied darkly, casting an annoyed glare around Merem's humble abode.
"Searching for me? Why? Did you truly miss me that much-?"
"You missed the gathering of Ancestors nine days ago." The bird's eyes shone with an emotion Merem could not quite place. "The others were most displeased, as was I. You were sent countless invitations and reminders, and I impressed on you many times that it was important you attend, yet you were not there."
"I had other things on my mind." Merem easily dismissed Gransurg's complaints, and the bird let out a 'tsk' in return. "Please just give me the rundown of the meeting. Did you discuss anything interesting? Anything new?"
"That depends. Have you already heard about the mundane Dead Apostles that ran amok across Europe over the past months?"
Merem stilled for a moment, and then gave his friend an odd look, feeling confusion bubble up to the surface of his mind.
And with that confusion came delight, for confusion meant something new, and something new meant that things were finally getting interesting again.
And Merem did so crave interesting things. After close to a thousand years of living, there was so little left that could capture his interest, and even less that could hold it for longer than a day.
So when Gransurg suddenly threw something at him that came completely out of the left field, something that Merem had always believed to be impossible, he couldn't suppress the utter delight that exploded in his breast.
Being a thousand-year-old creature however, he kept his composure intact, and he didn't show anything on the outside except for a single lifted eyebrow, prompting his friend to explain further.
"Dead Apostles made from mundane people." The bird cawed, seeing Merem's lifted eyebrow. "I am aware that it sounds impossible, considering it goes against everything we know of the Crimson Moon's Blessing, but no one can deny that such creatures exist now. They have somehow bypassed the usual requirement of having to be able to channel Magical Energy in order to become one of us, and obtained our Master's Blessing anyway."
Merem flinched when their Lord and Master, the Crimson Moon, also known as the Lord Brunestud, was mentioned, but he quickly regained control and considered what his friend had just told him.
"That is… news." He eventually spoke, unable to decide whether it was good news or bad news and thus not making such a judgement at all. "How?"
"Magi." Gransurg replied, spitting the word out as if it was a curse. "Magi and their treacherous crafts. They have invaded the sacred domain of our Master and attempted to corrupt the Blessing he has bestowed upon us."
"Hah! I never get tired of hearing you complain about Magi." Merem laughed merrily, slapping his hands on his knees. "Considering you were one yourself once."
Gransurg Blackmore had been a Magus before he became an Apostle, one who had destroyed himself with his own foolhardy experiments. It had only been a timely intervention from the Lord Brunestud that had prevented his soul from being destroyed completely, and Gransurg now worshipped his saviour, and had done so for the past thousand years.
Again, the bird did not react to Merem's jest –he'd heard it a thousand times before– and instead continued his explanation.
"I know not how these Magi achieved this, nor do I care. All I know is that they did, and that their… their fake Apostles roamed the world for a short while, until they were put down by the Church and the Magus Association."
"Huh, all of them? Already?" Merem, who had still been giggling slightly, sobered up quickly once he heard that. "Are they particularly weak? If they have been destroyed so quickly and decisively?"
"They were unstable." Gransurg corrected him. "They attacked everything in sight, attracted far too much attention, and drew their hunters straight towards them. They had no idea what was going on, and it led them to their deaths."
"Well, that's only to be expected then. Although it remains a terrible pity that I was not able to observe their existence myself." Merem huffed, folding his hands below his chin in thought. "Then again, I have been so terribly busy these days, so even if I'd known about them, I might not have been able to do anything. Why, just the other week, I had to lend… I had to… I…"
"Crown?" Gransurg flapped his wings in uncertainty when Merem fell silent.
"…I have been tricked, Gransurg." Merem spoke up again after a moment, his tone flat and monotonous. "I've been tricked into helping the Church hunt down these mundane Dead Apostles."
"Hm?"
"Krystine came to me last week to complain about particularly troublesome Dead Apostles, and I had my left arm hunt down these troublemakers for her." Merem pouted, feeling very duped by his superior "The King of Rats worked so hard, and now it turns out he was helping them remove these new mundane Dead Apostles, a potential source of interest for me. I am deeply shocked!"
"Be glad about it." Gransurg snapped, irritation entering his voice again. "These mundane Dead Apostles are a heresy towards the work of the Crimson Moon."
"A heresy?" Merem grinned, very much enjoying his friend's choice of words. "Are you certain you are not the one working for the Burial Agency? You certainly speak like one of their priests."
"Not only did these Magi dare presume they could improve upon the designs of the Crimson Moon, but they also threatened to ruin the Ancestors." Gransurg ignored Merem with practised ease as he continued his rant. "If their actions had caused immense numbers of Dead Apostles to flood the lands, it would have depleted our food source in no time, and it would have torn the power bases apart. It would have been a disaster."
"But so, so interesting to behold and experience." Merem pouted again, enjoying how Gransurg squawked in outrage over his statement.
Merem knew he was being difficult and unreasonable, and that Gransurg was right in that it was better for them all if the mundane Dead Apostles were exterminated, but he was just so bored that he couldn't help but regret their extermination anyway.
It was at times like this that he really envied his friend, because Gransurg seemed to have the ability to never feel bored, no matter how little there was to do. He was able to amuse himself perfectly well even while doing something he'd done a million times before.
"So I am grateful that you helped hunt these interlopers down." The bird finished his little rant, glaring at Merem with some vindictive pleasure. "I was already considering ways to assist the Burial Agency myself, but if you have already dealt with it so quickly, I can rest easy."
"Please don't talk about that!" Merem whined, and if Dead Apostles could have cried, he would have wept bitter tears of regret.
"Though the Magi responsible for this travesty are still at large, and they could create more abominations if they are left unchecked."
Merem perked up at the news, feeling hope bloom again.
"You mean more mundane Apostles might be created?"
"Not if it is up to me." Gransurg hissed. "I will hunt those Magi down no matter what, before they can make more of their eyesores. Ortenrosse, Van-Fem, and Svelten agree with me, and have promised their support should I need it."
"Ah…" Against such an alliance, even Merem did not wish to test his luck. Especially considering that it spanned over the usual faction lines of Altrouge and Ortenrosse. "Very well. I'll just have to enjoy the violence you'll unleash then. Oh, and by the way, can I ask how you found out about the existence of these mundane Dead Apostles? Even I was in the dark, and I have apparently been very involved with them."
"I have a source, one who is most capable." Gransurg said mysteriously. "I will not provide more details about them, but you can believe me when I say that very trustworthy people have discovered and verified the existence of mundane Apostles. They too are preparing to destroy those responsible for their creation."
"It seems everyone but me hates them then." Merem concluded sadly. "Fine, I know when I'm beat. Just go out and destroy them."
"I will." Gransurg couldn't grin evilly in his bird-form, but he made a very good attempt. "I will destroy their lairs, drag those Magi outside, and I will make them beg for a swift end as I teach them why defying the Crimson Moon was a fool's errant!"
"Brutal." Merem grinned, throwing in some modern jargon.
"Are you not inclined to help?"
"Wanton destruction ceased being interesting centuries ago." Merem shrugged, not feeling the least bit prompted to help out. Violence for any purpose had just lost its shine after the nth massacre he had committed, and the screaming got very tiresome after a while. "These days, I just advise a bit. The Burial Agency would like me to fight for them, but I only provide information."
"How funny that you should say that." Gransurg zeroed in on the last sentence Merem had spoken, and the atmosphere in the shrine became considerably heavier as the bird visibly became angry again. "That was actually the second thing I wanted to talk about."
"Aside from the mundane Dead Apostles?"
"Yes." The bird turned its head, and then spread its wings, giving the impression of being about to descend on Merem to peck his eyes out, and Gransurg's voice became low and threatening. "Is it true you revealed the existence of the Aylesbury ritual to the Church?"
"The Aylesbury-?"
"The ritual to awaken the Dark Six! The great gathering of ancestors! The moment when we revive the first of our kind! He who is the conduit through which the Crimson Moon shall return to lead us again!" The bird screeched in rage, a fire igniting in the black eyes. "You told the Church about it! You gave them the means to combat the ritual!"
"Ah, that." Merem snapped his fingers when he realised what his friend was referring to. "Yes, I did tell the Church about that. You see, they already figured out that the Ancestors were working on something big, and somehow, they also determined that I knew about it. So when they asked me, I sort of had to give them the answers they wanted. They might not have trusted me anymore if I did not."
"Trusted you?!" The raven spluttered. "Asinine! They should not trust you! You are their natural enemy!"
"We are not having this discussion again." Merem told his friend firmly. He knew Gransurg disapproved of his close relationship with the Church. They had talked about Merem's decision to join the Burial Agency many times before, culminating in hours upon hours of arguing, yet neither had budged, and the boyish vampire was growing extremely tired of it.
"The Aylesbury ritual is our best chance of reawakening our Master." The bird continued as if he hadn't heard Merem, and to be honest, he probably hadn't. "And you gave our enemies the means to ruin it! Are you no longer loyal to the Crimson Moon, Merem?"
"Watch your tongue!" For the first time since the conversation began, Merem felt the stirrings of anger in his breast, and he rose to his feet, turning around sharply to fully face his accuser. "I am just as loyal to him as you are, perhaps even more. He is my idol, my role model. I have never loved and will never love anyone or anything as much as I love him."
The bird stilled again as Merem's words rang true, and both Ancestors stared at each other, each putting enough power in their glare to knock out a fully-grown man in an instant.
"Very well." Gransurg was the first to break the silence. "Even though I am not happy about how you express your loyalty, I shall accept your words as the truth."
The manner of expressing loyalty to the Crimson Moon had long been a point of contention between him and Merem.
Gransurg believed that they, the Ancestors, should purely be loyal to their Master, and that loyalty was all they should feel. There should be no love, no envy, and no ambition involved. They were naught but extensions of the Crimson Moon's will, and they should behave the part as well.
Merem on the other hand considered the Crimson Moon as an idol, an ideal to strive towards. He believed that they followed the Lord Brunestud because he would lead them onto a path that would allow them to become like him. In Merem's view, they had to love him, envy him, strive to be like him, and much more.
In the beginning, Merem and Gransurg had been so at odds that they had promised to kill each other once their Master was back, to decide whose way was better, but in recent years, both had mellowed out enough that they had chosen to let their Master pick who he liked better, without the need for internal strife.
It was better if their Master had two Servants instead of one after all.
"But even if your loyalty is true, that still doesn't explain why you revealed the existence of the Aylesbury ritual to the Church." Gransurg continued, focusing again on Merem's crime against Apostle-kind. "You made our mission far more difficult."
"The Aylesbury ritual requires a sacrifice." Merem said calmly, deciding that was as good a reason as any. "I ensured the sacrifice will come to us on that night."
"We already have a sacrifice." Gransurg protested.
"It might not be enough. Because of me, the entirety of the Church's forces, as well as those of the Magus Association, will come to the ritual by themselves, which means we can sacrifice them and ensure the ritual succeeds."
"It was not necessary, we already have a sacrifice." Gransurg insisted, before he let out a sigh, which, since he was a bird, sounded more like a croak. "You are not being truthful, Merem. Please, tell me the real reason."
"…Alright, fine." Merem huffed, crossing his arms petulantly as he was again called out on a lie. "I told the Church about the ritual because I indeed want it to fail. I do not like the Dark Six, and I don't want that thing to return."
"Merem." Gransurg frowned, but he wasn't as angry as before. "None of us like the Dark Six, but we need him. He is the one who will revive the Crimson Moon."
"Or so he says." Merem scoffed, having very strong doubts about that. "I don't believe a word of it. He wants to rule us himself, and I will not stand by and let that happen."
"The Crimson Moon-"
"There are other ways to revive our Master, ways that may take longer but are far more reliable. I am already pursuing those ways, instead of having to trust the Eartheater."
Gransurg let out a hissing noise at the term Merem had chosen to use. 'Eartheater' was one of the titles of the Dark Six, but it was one that the Dark Six hated with a passion. Calling him that was nothing short of an insult.
"I do understand though that the ritual will continue despite my opinion of it." Merem then sighed, holding up the metaphorical white flag. "Even if I manage to convince youof my point of view, the other Ancestors will certainly not listen to me, and that is fine, I often don't listen to them either."
"You certainly don't." Gransurg grumbled.
"So you know what, Gransurg? Seeing that I cannot stop the Aylesbury ritual anyway, I promise that I will behave properly from now on, and that I will stop trying to sabotage the ritual. Don't be surprised though when I don't give it my all and my contribution is low."
"…Very well." Gransurg eventually bowed his head in acceptance. "I can't blame you for your distaste of the Dark Six. Just give me your guarantee that when the moment comes that the Crimson Moon's resurrection is near, whether that is through the Dark Six or one of your other ways, you will turn against the Church and join us."
"Of course I will." Merem nodded instantly, not even having to consider it. "My 'friends' of the Burial Agency are nothing more than a fun pastime. The Crimson Moon is my Lord and Master."
"Good. That is good to hear." The raven nodded his head, a faint note of relief in his voice. "I would have hated to have to declare you a traitor after all I went through to prevent that label from being assigned to you during the conference."
"Traitor?"
"Ortenrosse wanted to kill you when he heard that you told the Church about the ritual. I only just managed to convince him not to." The beady eyes gave Merem a disturbingly human glare, and a chill went down the boyish Ancestor's spine at the news that the King of the Dead Apostles had almost decided to hunt him down. "I won't go through all that effort again. Make sure to consider your actions more carefully in the future."
"I will." Merem promised immediately. He might like interesting events, but having the White Wing Lord out for his blood was a little too interesting even for him. "I have no intention of dying just yet. Oh, and Gransurg, thank you for saving my life."
"I didn't do it for you." Gransurg snapped back, flapping his wings in irritation. "You are still too useful to lose. I only did it because it would benefit our Lord and Master."
"You forgot to add 'baka', you big tsundere." Merem smiled, remembering once more why he considered the bird to be his dearest friend.
Never one to consume any kind of modern entertainment, Gransurg didn't know what a tsundere was, and though Merem had called him such before, he had never felt particularly motivated to find out what it meant either.
He was sure it was some kind of insult, but in light of that, it was perhaps better not to know.
As such, the sixteenth gave a last screech from his beak –screeching just felt nice when he was in his bird-form– and then left again, off to destroy some foolish Magi for having committed the sin of tampering with his Master's creation.
Merem watched his friend fly away, and then turned back to the cross that stood before him, sinking back to his knees.
He didn't pray to the Lord –that would be rather audacious after so openly plotting to destroy humanity– but instead spoke some words to the Moon.
His true Master.
"And that is how I ended up with two girlfriends." Shirou finished his story. "It's a bit of an odd situation, I know, but we're happy together."
Over the past twenty minutes, Shirou had been talking pretty much non-stop, with Illya only interrupting now and then to ask a short question or two.
In that time, he had told Illya about the years he and Kiritsugu had spent together, about what Shirou had learned from him, how much the man had missed his daughter, and of course Kiritsugu's final moments, in which he had asked his son to save his daughter from her imprisonment at the hands of her family.
Needless to say, Illya had become misty-eyed again after he'd told her of their father's death. She hadn't cried, but she came close to it.
Seeing that, Shirou had quickly moved on to a happier subject, and told her about how he'd met Sakura and Ayako, how he had gotten closer to them over time, how he had killed Sakura's evil grandfather, and how the three of them had eventually gotten together.
"Sakura and Ayako sound like amazing people." Illya professed after he finished his story, giving him a beaming smile. "I can't wait to meet them and get to know them."
Shirou smiled back at her, feeling relieved that it seemed so far that there would be no problems between her and his girlfriends. It would have been very difficult if they didn't get along, considering they'd have to live together from now on.
Then again, the three of them hadn't actually met yet, so perhaps he shouldn't rejoice too soon. They might decide they hated each other on first sight when they met, as unlikely as that seemed.
Not to mention he hadn't even told Illya about Rin yet. He didn't know if Illya put any value in family rivalries, nor did he know if Rin did, but he did know that putting an Einzbern and a Tohsaka together might create a volatile situation if he wasn't careful.
But he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.
"Alright, then it's your turn." Shirou said, pointing at her, to which she responded by pointing to herself as well with little question marks hanging over her head. "I've been talking for long enough now. Tell me about your life here."
Shirou knew he was treading on numerous landmines by saying that. He was aware of what the Einzbern had put Illya through, at least to some extent, and he knew that he was being incredibly blunt by asking her about it so brusquely.
Nevertheless, it was necessary. The sooner he could prompt her to talk about her experiences and possible trauma, the better. If he could present this as an exchange –he told her something and she told him something in turn– then he might have the most success to get her to open up before she would start cropping things up inside, which would have nasty consequences later down the line.
As he had expected, Illya flinched when he brought up her life, and for a few seconds, it seemed like she wouldn't answer him.
But then she rallied, taking a deep breath, and she began talking.
"I hate it here."
It was a short, clear sentence that accurately described her feelings. It was a story on its own, carrying many different emotions, and Shirou, despite knowing it wasn't proper at all, almost laughed upon hearing it. It was just so… so endearing, almost.
"That's really everything there is to say. Everything here is so hateful." She elaborated, angrily kicking her heel against the leg of her chair. "The people are cruel and callous. The castle is only beautiful on the surface, making it feel empty. The food is horrible. There is no privacy. Sella and Leysritt are treated like objects at one moment and like dogs the next. I hate it here!"
"That is completely understandable." Shirou nodded, all amusement he had felt previously long gone now, replaced by pity for his little sister and anger towards those who treated her so callously.
"They operate on me. Not as much as they used to, but they still do it once in a while." She continued, her hands automatically covering her abdomen, and Shirou stiffened as Kiritsugu's worst fears were confirmed. "They keep planting more Magic Circuits into me, to make me a better Master for my Servant and Vessel for the Holy Grail. They… They hurt me, and they don't even feel sorry."
"…" Shirou clenched his teeth, the anger he'd been feeling swiftly turning into rage at the thought of his little sister being tortured.
It was that he prioritised a clean escape above everything else at the moment, or he would have turned this castle upside down to find his sister's tormentors and make his displeasure known to them!
In fact, after he'd gotten Illya out, was there anything that prevented him from coming back later to smash the place up?
He didn't think there was anything stopping him from doing that, was there?
"You are angry." Illya suddenly noted.
"What?" Shirou blinked in surprise at the unexpected remark.
"You are angry." Illya repeated, before she smiled brightly. "I like that. No one has ever gotten so angry for my sake before."
"They should have!" Shirou barked, before taking a deep breath to calm himself. There was no sense in snapping at his sister, who was the victim here. "They really should have."
"Hehe." The smile remained on her face, and she rose to take his hand in hers. "Thank you."
"Hm." Shirou made a non-committal noise, looking away from Illya, as he was not sure how to react to her gratitude over something that should have been only natural. "But at least you have Sella and Leysritt?"
"Oh yes." Illya nodded happily, her smile turning into a grin, the shadow over her face disappearing as she began talking about her maids. "They were created a few years ago, and they've been my personal maids ever since. They're amazing! I mean, they can't go against grandfather's orders, but they try their very best to be on my side nevertheless. Sometimes they even half-defy grandfather's orders if I ask."
"Really?" Shirou was surprised to hear it. He knew that Homunculi, even the ones who were created by the standard process, had a mind of their own, at least to a limited degree, but if these two were buckling against their orders so hard that they very nearly broke them, they were clearly exceptional individuals. "They must be amazing people indeed."
"They are! They really are!" Illya nodded rapidly, delighted that he understood.
"And what are they like in person?"
"Sella is really good at combing my hair." Illya made a noise that could almost be described as purring. "With the brush, and sometimes she even uses her hands. I love it when she uses her hands. They are always so warm, like Sella herself, though she never wants to show it."
"She doesn't want to show it? I know a person like that as well." Shirou grinned. "Really kind, but she's always so prickly, and she hates it when you compliment her in any way."
"Right, right?!" Illya laughed, leaning in until her face was very close to Shirou's, before she pressed their foreheads together. "Sella is just like that."
"And Leysritt?"
"The opposite. The exaaaaact opposite." Illya pulled back again and hopped towards the middle of the room, where she twirled around once. "She's really sweet, and always says exactly what she means. No deception from her, no sir. She's kind, always listens to me, and she's really, really cute."
"She sounds like a wonderful person."
"She is! She's also really good at fighting." Now Illya began to make movements that looked as if she was wielding a spear. "I spar with her sometimes, and she always has to hold back a lot. No one here has ever defeated her in a duel."
"No one? Has she fought a lot of people?"
"Yes! I think she's fought everyone in the Einzbern-castle at least once, except grandfather and some of the other old people. They all challenged her when they heard of her prowess, and she defeated them all! Of course, they pretended afterwards that they weren't even trying all that hard to defeat a doll, but they're just sore losers."
"Sore losers indeed!"
The conversation continued for a while, with Illya loudly complaining about this or that while praising herself and her maids, and with Shirou giving all the appropriate reactions, nodding and gasping whenever it was required.
"What about you though, Shirou?" Illya asked after she was finally done describing Leysritt's various exploits as a warrior. "What opponents have you fought? Did you have any awesome battles that you can tell me about?"
There was not a single doubt in her voice that he had fought people, and she suddenly seemed rather eager to have him speak again, and Shirou wasn't sure what to think about the sudden bloodlust that emanated from her.
"Oh, I have fought a bit here and there." He tried to evade the question, but Illya was having none of it.
"More details." She ordered him with all the authority a little sister could muster, and Shirou could do nothing but cave to her demands.
"The vast majority of people I have fought were mundane criminals." He began, noticing Illya leaned forward in interest. "I was a vigilante for a while, quite a famous one, but I've stopped doing that for now."
"A vigilante?" Illya cocked her head to the side in curiosity. "Someone who takes the law into their own hands? How very Magus-like of you, big brother."
"Please don't say that." Shirou sighed, rubbing his face with his hand. "Anyway, it all got a little too successful, and too many people began to take notice, so I stopped. I mean, they even had a name for me and everything, and I had fans, Illya, fans!"
He could still barely believe it! The idea that people had started following him and praising him and generally behaved like he was a film star or something was just too weird for him to accept.
He wasn't an idol, no matter what Ayako might claim.
At least it was confined to Japan only though. To the best of Shirou's knowledge, no other country in the world had taken note of his escapades. He doubted even China or Korea had really noticed it, much less countries on the other side of the world, like the UK or Germany.
As such, there should be no issue in complaining to Illya a bit-
"Fans?" Illya blinked once, before a light of realisation appeared in her eyes. "Do you mean you are Rakurai?"
"How do you know that name?!" The creaking noise that Shirou's neck produced when he jerked around to look at his little sister might as well have been the sound of his blissful ignorance shattering into bits.
"You are Rakurai?!" Illya's mouth fell open when he reacted so seriously to her little joke, but that only lasted a second, and then her eyes began shining in glee and excitement. "That's amazing! You are a superhero!"
"No, Illya, please, I am-"
"I have the coolest big brother ever!"
"Illya, if you could just listen-"
"Oh, could we do a team-up? Could we please? I've always wanted to be a Magical Girl!"
"A-A Magical Girl? Uhm, well…" Shirou fumbled with his words. He was supposed to be done with Rakurai, but Illya was looking so hopeful he couldn't bring himself to let her down.
So instead, he changed the subject.
"I also fought a Dead Apostle." He told her, hoping it would work to distract her. "A-And a Phantasmal Beast."
The first part did not seem to impress his sister, but the second part more than did the trick.
"Phantasmal Beast?" Illya asked, her voice suddenly very small, in contrast with her eyes, which had gone very wide. "What do you mean, 'Phantasmal Beast'?"
"I mean I fought and slew a Phantasmal Beast." Shirou repeated, wincing as his torso began to itch at the three places where said Beast's tentacles had run him through during their battle. "It was a creature that looked a bit like a human skull, with tentacles coming out of its neck. It seemed to live in water, as I encountered it in a lake in Japan."
"Are… Are you sure it was a Phantasmal Beast?" Illya asked, her voice still very small and anxious, afraid even. "Could it not have been a really big, really powerful familiar?"
"No." Shirou immediately shook his head, not even having to think about it. "That was a Phantasmal Beast, though it was probably a very young one."
"And you killed it?" Illya continued her unnerved questioning. "You are absolutely certain?"
"Absolutely." Shirou nodded, taking a reassuring tone in response to Illya's obvious fear. "I smashed it to bits and burned the remains so thoroughly there was barely any ash left. I even waited for an hour to ensure it stayed dead."
"I-I see." Illya mumbled, dropping back onto her chair with a heavy sigh of relief. "Phew, good thing you were there, Shirou, and that you found the Beast. I don't know how a Phantasmal Beast could have showed up in the Modern Age, and I don't want to think about what would have happened if you hadn't killed it."
"I already know what would have happened." Shirou grumbled, his mood taking a nosedive as he remembered how many victims the Beast had made before he destroyed it. "And I think it was the other way around, Illya. I didn't find it, but it found me."
Shirou had given it a lot of thought back then, why he had suddenly stumbled on a Phantasmal Beast so soon after finding Mjolnir. It could have been a complete coincidence of course, but when he'd looked the Beast up on the internet, he'd discovered it was most likely a Nokken, a creature from German mythology, and last time he checked, Germany and Japan weren't exactly next door.
That Beast had to have come to Japan for a reason, and the only reason Shirou could think of was that it had come to hunt him down. Whether that was out of jealousy about his power, desire to eat him, or something else entirely, he didn't know, though based on its behaviour once it had found Shirou, he could take an educated guess that it was definitely not to befriend him.
"It found you?" Illya blinked several times, staring at him with a befuddled gaze, as if he'd spoken in a language unknown to her, and then the penny seemed to drop, and she went as pale as a sheet.
"B-But you don't have to worry." Shirou quickly assured her. "Nothing else of the sort has occurred since then. There is no need to be afraid, at all."
"Ah." Now it was Illya's turn to make a non-committal noise, and her face remained as pale as before. She wasn't reassured in the slightest by his attempt at damage control.
"Uhm." Deeply regretting his openness about having fought a Phantasmal Beast that had been hunting for him -Illya was raised as a Magus, of course she was going to take that harder than Ayako or Sakura– Shirou once again tried to find a different subject, and eventually, decided to return to what they had been talking about before.
He didn't like talking about own career as a vigilante very much, and he liked Illya's plan to become one as well under the guise of a Magical Girl even less, but it was much better than her being so scared.
"S-So, about that Magical Girl-thing." He thus began, trying to sound natural and hoping that Illya's surprised blink at the change in subject was a good thing. "What exactly did you have in mind? Did you have some ideas for the costume, or-?"
"Wha-! NO! Never mind the Magical Girls!" Illya cried out, interrupting him as colour returned to her face, and continued returning until she was bright red in a mixture of outrage and stress. "You can't just talk about a Phantasmal Beast and then try to change the subject! What you mean it found you?! Was it after you?! Why was it after you?!"
"I think it was after me. I can't say for sure; the Beast and I didn't exactly have time for a chat at any point." Shirou explained quickly, before heading her off when she tried to ask another question. "Yes, I do know why it could've been interested in me, and no, I cannot explain why yet, not in enemy-territory."
"Y-You cannot explain it yet?" Illya asked.
"No, not yet."
"But you will explain later?" Illya pressed him.
"Yes, I will." Shirou promised. "As soon as it's safe and we have the time, I will tell you everything there is to know about me."
"…You mean it." Illya eventually concluded, looking astounded as she said it. "You are actually going to explain."
"You didn't think that I would?" Shirou asked, wondering where that sudden mistrust came from. "I'm not lying."
"N-No, it's not that I don't trust you, b-but, no one ever told me they would tell me something later, and actually meant it." Illya stuttered, looking so fragile that a breeze might have blown her away. "Everyone who said so died, o-or didn't come back, or they lied to me. B-But you actually mean it."
Illya probably hadn't intended for her words to cut straight to Shirou's heart, but they did, and he had to firmly sit on the urge to take his little sister into a hug and immediately reveal the entire truth to her.
Illya didn't stay that way for long though, and within mere seconds, her gaping surprise had turned into a beaming smile. Then she threw herself at him for a hug.
"Thank you!" She gushed, and if Shirou had had any compunctions about his promise to tell her everything soon, they would have been burned away right there.
"No problem."
"Oh, and Shirou." She continued, her smile suddenly turning slightly evil. "I have lots of ideas for the Magical Girl-outfits, thank you for asking."
"…Ah." Shirou smiled uncomfortably, before he mentally slapped himself. If that was what she wanted, then that was what she would get. "You'll have to tell me all about them soon."
"Yes!" Illya cheered.
Then a bell suddenly started ringing, shocking them both and alerting Shirou that his quickly applied Runic Ward had spotted two approaching figures. With a quick mental command, Shirou silenced the bell, and he looked at who it was that had set off his Wards.
"There are two people approaching." He told Illya, who was looking at him in anticipation. "Homunculi, carrying baskets, both seem to be quite combat capable, and one is carrying a halberd on their back."
"Sounds like Sella and Leysritt." Illya clapped her hands in joy, eagerness and relief writ all over her face. "Today is laundry day, so they're bringing up my washed clothes in those baskets, and Leysritt has a halberd that she uses for combat."
"What do you want me to do?" Shirou asked, relaxing a bit himself now that it was confirmed it were only Illya's maids. "Hide?"
"That might be the best until I've explained things to them." Illya agreed. "They might attack you otherwise, and that would be bad."
"Yes, we wouldn't want that to happen." Shirou nodded wryly, before he crawled under the bed, using the shadows to become invisible, like he'd done during his Rakurai-days.
Meanwhile, Illya sat down behind her desk, trying to look and act innocent, before turning around again when two Homunculi in splendid maid outfits stepped in her room, looking at them with a huge smile that spoke of fondness and love.
Looking at that beautiful smile, Shirou knew that there was no way he could not take those two maids with him as well. Leaving them behind would definitely make Illya sad, and that was not something he was in any way willing to do.
Not that Illya left him much of a choice, for when she had closed her notebook and stood up from her chair, she wasted not a second in asking the maids for their opinion.
"Sella, Leysritt." She beamed at them, visibly taking the two maids aback with her sudden exuberance. "If I were to leave this place and go somewhere else, somewhere the Einzbern couldn't find me, would you come with me?"
The maids blinked in tandem, before they looked at each other, an entire conversation taking place in that one moment of eye-contact, and then looked back at Illya.
"Mistress." The maid on the left began. "We would be delighted for you to leave this place behind and live somewhere else."
"Yes, yes." Illya nodded, her eyes shining in delight. "We'd finally be free! We could-"
"But we cannot go with you."
Illya froze, and under the bed, Shirou frowned, but the maids both remained steel-faced, not a trace of emotion in their expressions, even as regret emanated from them so clearly Shirou could almost taste it in the air.
"If you will leave shortly, mistress, please do not take us along with you."
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN'T FIND IT!?" Rosaly von Stahlen-Frobrecht roared at her dullard of an assistant, who flinched away before her anger. "NEED I REMIND YOU YOUR LIFE IS ON THE LINE AS WELL!?"
"No, mistress. I understand, mistress." Raoul Mian, said dullard assistant, bowed and scraped before her, as he damn well should. "T-The list, we haven't lost it, it's merely been… displaced."
"Then place it again." Rosaly sneered at him, bringing the volume down to an acceptable level when she remembered the subject of their conversation wasn't something she should be shouting about. "If you cannot find it before tomorrow evening, I will not hesitate to blame everything on you, understood?"
"Yes, mistress!"
"Then get out of my sight!"
Mian sped away, eager to escape her presence, and Rosaly was alone again in her office, feeling both anger and dread in equal amounts.
Above all else though, she felt tired. Tired and alone, and very much done with her life.
It was not a mood someone would attribute to her at first sight. At twenty-one years of age, being the heir of her family, with a healthy body, a healthy mind, a good number of high-quality Magic Circuits, and an appearance that could make any man stop for a moment to look twice, with her glossy red hair, her pale, almost impossibly unblemished skin, and fair features, Rosaly seemed like a woman who had everything going for her in life.
But, as was so often the case in the Moonlit World, looks were deceiving, and under the shiny surface, there was much pain and bitterness to be found.
For even though Rosaly looked like a woman with her life in order, she was currently going through a huge crisis. She was being blackmailed, blackmailed into throwing her future away by aiding a bunch of criminals in committing capital crimes.
Right now, she was nothing but a flunkie, a slave, and everything she'd been so proud of before, her intellect and talent, was used for evil purposes.
It was almost enough to drive Rosaly to tears, and she wondered just how everything could have gone so terribly wrong.
She had never had any intentions whatsoever to become a criminal. She came from a good family and had always been raised to become a proper lady, who didn't involve herself in any shady business.
She had never desired to break the law in any way. She just wanted to pursue her research in puppetry and golem-making at the Clocktower, working together with her two closest friends as she carved out a life for herself.
She didn't need to reach the Root. She didn't need or want fame and riches. Her family never pressured her to bring them glory or money. Rosaly had been a free woman, who was all set up to live a quiet, unassuming life with her friends, far away from any drama or difficulties. She wouldn't go down in the history books, but she would have a good life at least, which was all she'd dared ask for.
But then, several months ago, everything had started going wrong.
One of her dear friends, Marie Alva, had suddenly disappeared. From one day to the next, she had stopped coming to visit Rosaly, and had only sent a note after several days, explaining that her family wanted her to work on their projects, and that she wasn't allowed to waste time on interacting with useless friends anymore.
Rosaly didn't like the idea that the bright, happy girl, who was so fascinated by ancient mundane cultures and was always so delighted whenever she discovered something new, had been confined to a laboratory to work on things that she hated, yet the redhead still furiously hoped that that was indeed what had happened to Marie.
The alternative was worse after all, much worse.
Rosaly had worried immensely for her friend, and she'd begun worrying even more when, around a month ago, the notes from Marie had stopped entirely.
Rosaly had tried reaching out herself, but any attempt at getting to Marie had been rebuffed long before she got anywhere. Asking around also yielded nothing, for even the people who were supposed to work with the Alva-family on a daily basis hadn't seen Marie in quite some time.
It almost seemed as if Marie had just disappeared from the face of the Earth entirely, as if the Alva-family was actively denying that she'd ever existed at all.
Three weeks ago though, they had broken their silence, when Rosaly had been visited by Jessica Alva, Marie's big sister, who had told her in no uncertain terms that she was to stop trying to contact Marie, as the Alva-family no longer wanted any useless distractions around.
When pushed, Jessica had told her that Marie was still alive and still very active, but she'd said in such a way that it didn't alleviate any of Rosaly's concerns. Rather, it made her so worried her stomach ached from it.
Then Jessica had dropped another bomb on her, by demanding that Rosaly now worked for the Alva, and that she would do everything that she was told.
Naturally, Rosaly had promptly refused, and had prepared herself for a fight, but Jessica had merely laughed, and then showed a picture of Rosaly's younger sisters. It was a very clear threat, and to make it worse, the bitch had also implied that the way Marie would be treated going forward would depend entirely on the level of Rosaly's cooperation.
The black-haired bitch had been smirking smugly the entire time, though that smug smirk had disappeared very quickly when Rosaly had punched the girl straight on her ugly, squad nose, sending her flying from her chair and onto the ground.
It had felt amazing, and it was more than worth Jessica's angry tirade following the punch.
It had been the only act of defiance allowed to her however. Jessica had threatened retaliation against Rosaly's little sisters and against Marie if she ever acted out like that again, and so, Rosaly had fallen in line. Since that day, she had become yet another slave under the Alva's control.
It went to show how treacherous life at the Clocktower really was. Rosaly had always kept her head down, she had never stood out, never insulted anyone, never dared rise above the masses, yet despite all that, she was still being blackmailed into aiding criminals now. The jackals and vultures had still found her, and they had gladly made a meal out of her.
Worse, she had no one to defend her either. Rosaly had gotten into the Clocktower with the help of a sponsor who'd soon after abandoned her, and she'd never found a new one.
Marie had no protection either. She had gotten into the Clocktower because her family was based in the Clocktower to begin with and was thus entirely dependent on the grills of her family-head.
The last person of their group of three was a mix of the two. Her family was powerful enough to get her into the Clocktower, even though they weren't really based there, but she'd also had a sponsor, though that man had been executed a few years back for illegal experimentation on his own son.
In other words, the three girls were entirely on their own, and the Alva had taken advantage of that.
"Damn them!" Rosaly cried, lashing out and throwing a vase –an ugly gift from her aunt– against the wall, where it shattered with a very satisfying sound. A sound that let her imagine it were Jessica Alva's bones that were shattered beyond repair. "Damn them all!"
She was completely in the Alva's grasp. She did research for them. She filled out their forms. She financed some projects when they didn't want to use their own money. She delivered their messages. All of that and more she did, like the proper blackmail-victim she was supposed to be.
At least on the surface.
Below the surface however, she was actively rebelling against her leash-holders. Of course she was, she wasn't going to roll over and be a good dog when people were blackmailing her. She was a Von Stahlen-Frobrecht, and she still had her pride if nothing else.
It honestly astounded her how easy it was to copy the files that the Alva sent her, and to have them delivered straight to Lady Montmorency. When she started doing it, she'd expected to be caught within a day, but nothing had happened, not even now that she had been peddling information for weeks.
Rosaly would receive her assignments from the Alva, which she completed as quickly as possible. Then, she would copy or summarise whatever she had been working on in a file, before having Raoul, her somewhat intellectually challenged assistant, deliver those files to lady Montmorency. She had chosen Raoul for that job, because he was the most trustworthy person she knew, and he was extremely good at sneaking around unnoticed.
The reason she'd been so angry with him a few minutes ago however was because he had forgotten to deliver a critical file to Lady Montmorency, one that Rosaly had been ecstatic to obtain, for it might very well save her life.
That file showed very clearly who was in the Alva's employ because they wanted to be, and who was forced to work for them under threat and blackmail. Getting that information to Lady Montmorency could mean the difference between life and death for people like Rosaly, so she had been very stressed out when Raoul told her he hadn't delivered it yet.
If Lady Montmorency started an attack on the Meluastea and she didn't know that Rosaly and several others were only working with them because had been forced into doing so, then she might have them executed at once, without even granting them time to explain.
And while Rosaly would really like to see the Alva-family destroyed, she didn't want to die for it if it wasn't absolutely necessary.
But with the way things were going, Rosaly wouldn't be surprised if Lady Montmorency didn't care to begin with who was guilty and who was innocent. Hoping for the best was useless at the Clocktower, and assuming the worst was usually the way to go.
"A thousand curses." She muttered, before her temper again got the better of her and she seized another vase to throw against a wall, screaming in anger and despair. "A thousand curses on the Clocktower and the Magus Association!"
"Wait!"
Just a split second before the vase flew from Rosaly's hands, a sudden shout made her freeze in place. Not just because of what was said, but also because she recognised the voice. She recognised it very well, and she jerked around to look at the origin, clutching the vase to her breast.
There, in the door opening, having just pushed the door open to get into the office, she sat. She was there, as if summoned by Rosaly's earlier thoughts, having arrived in the nick of time to prevent a second vase from being smashed.
It was Fiore Forvedge, Rosaly's second friend.
For a few seconds, neither girl spoke, both frozen in place, too occupied with looking the other over to move or speak.
Fiore looked good, Rosaly was happy to note. Despite having just spent months with a family she hated, her brown hair had been taken care of, her skin had a healthy shine, her clothes were meticulous, and her gaze was alert and inquisitive. She was still in a wheelchair, as she'd been her entire life, but that barely seemed to encumber her.
Rosaly did not want to know though what Fiore saw when she looked at her. She undoubtedly looked like the situation at large; a total mess.
"Rosaly." Fiore then said, hastily carting herself forward to take the vase from the redhead's hands and put it back where it belonged, her sharp eyes also noticing the shards of the already broken vase lying on the ground nearby. "What is wrong?"
"Fiore…" Rosaly began, having difficulty bringing herself to speak as her throat constricted for some reason. "It's… There is…"
"Rosaly?!" Fiore now sounded outright alarmed, and the redhead gritted her teeth when she realised that she was crying now. Fat tears streamed down her cheeks, and they kept streaming even as she tried to stop them.
Damnit, she didn't want to cry. There was no sense in upsetting Fiore, and she shouldn't be showing such weakness, even to a friend.
But then Fiore only made it worse by taking her into an embrace, pulling Rosaly down to her knees and then hugging her head to her chest, humming softly as she tried to comfort the redhead.
Was it any wonder that Rosaly actually started crying at that point?
"There, there." Fiore whispered as she patted Rosaly's back, uncaring about the tears drenching her shirt as Rosaly wailed and wailed. "No need to hold back, I won't tell anyone."
Fiore was still just as kind as she'd ever been, and Rosaly's throat constricted even more when she realised just how much she'd missed her friend over the past months, and how much she had dreaded losing her too.
Rosaly cried until the worst of her feelings had been expunged. Then she pulled back from Fiore's embrace to take several steps back, quickly wiping her cheeks with her sleeve and taking a few deep breaths to completely regain her composure.
Fiore closed her eyes and waited politely for Rosaly to regain control over herself, and then gave her a curious and emphatic look.
"Rosaly, what is wrong?" She asked, her voice full of genuine concern and empathy, blissfully unaware of how messy the situation at the Clocktower had become.
"Everything." Rosaly said darkly, before telling Fiore everything that had happened over the past months, from the blackmail to Marie's disappearance.
By the end of her story, Fiore had gone chalk white.
"Y-You have heard nothing more from Marie?" She asked desperately, just as concerned about their third friend as Rosaly was. "Not even a rumour? Did Jessica not say anything?"
"Nothing that would help us." Rosaly muttered in frustration. "She just keeps threatening Marie, but honestly, I don't even know if Marie is alive at all anymore. She may very well be dead-"
"Don't talk like that!" Fiore grasped Rosaly's hand, giving her a look that was half-scolding and half-pleading. "You can't say such things until we are entirely certain. Otherwise, you're just making yourself depressed to the point where it cripples you."
The brunette sounded as if she knew what she was talking about, and considering what her family was like, she probably did.
"Just keep hoping." Fiore continued imploringly, squeezing Rosaly's hand in her own. "As soon as you stop hoping, they have won, and you cannot let that happen."
"A-Alright, I will try." Rosaly nodded, pushing the dark thoughts to a corner of her mind. "Oh Fiore, what should we do now?"
"Just keep doing what you were doing, passing information on to Lady Montmorency." Fiore's voice suddenly became dead serious, and Rosaly could not help but straighten her back and listen intently when the brunette started giving off a commanding aura. "If there's anyone who can deal with the Alva, it's that woman. Besides, we have very few, if any, other options."
"I don't suppose we can try to sneak into the Alva's headquarters and take Marie away from there?" Rosaly asked with fake cheer, before looking down when Fiore gave her a withering glare. "I suppose not."
"At this point, we can do nothing but wait." The brunette told her in no uncertain terms. "We are not powerful or resourceful enough to do anything else. Any active rebellion will just get you killed."
Fiore's voice was strong, yet Rosaly also detected a considerable undercurrent of frustration in her tone.
It was not hard to guess where that frustration came from. After all, the brunette had just escaped from her home, a place where she could do nothing but wait in powerlessness until she was allowed to leave, only to be cast into a situation where she could again do nothing but wait until someone else came along to fix her problems.
It probably vexed her to no end to be so powerless, yet there was nothing Rosaly could say to comfort her.
She was just as powerless after all. Just as useless.
"Would you rather go back home?" Rosaly ventured carefully. She didn't want Fiore to leave, she'd only just got here, but none of this was Fiore's problem yet, so there was no need for the brunette to stick around.
"Certainly not!" The wheelchair-bound girl was swift to reject the possibility however, throwing her hand to the side as if to brush away the mere thought. "Even if things were better at home, which they aren't, I would still stay here. You and Marie need me, so I won't be going anywhere until this situation is resolved."
"Fiore…" Rosaly's voice almost broke just from saying her friends name, and she didn't dare say anymore, lest she cry again. Her friend seemed to understand though, and gave her a fond smile.
"Besides, that we cannot engage in active rebellion does not mean we cannot make things very annoying for the Alva." Fiore then smirked. "Tell me, Rosaly, have you ever heard about malicious compliance?"
"I haven't." Rosaly shook her head. "It sounds very interesting though."
"It is." Fiore confirmed, her eyes shining in dark pleasure. "It definitely is."
She then laid out a plan, and Rosaly grinned in excitement and anticipation, her mood momentarily improved as she was scheming with her friend again.
"What do you mean you can't come with me? I want you to come with me!"
"Mistress-"
"NO! You will come with me! You must come!"
Illya knew that she sounded whiny, petulant even, but right now, she couldn't possibly care less about that. Not after hearing what Sella just said.
'If you will leave shortly, mistress, please do not take us along with you.'
That was what she said. That was what Leysritt had agreed to, nodding her head as Sella spoke. That was what they had told her, as it was something they really meant.
Sella and Leysritt were refusing to come with her. They were, essentially, leaving her. Just like her parents, just like everyone else in her life.
The happiness and delight Illya had felt about her brother having come to take her home disappeared into nothing, and she even forgot about Shirou himself, as her fear of abandonment reared its ugly head and forced her into a senseless panic.
"W-Why don't you want to come with me?" She brought out, unable to prevent herself from stuttering. "W-Why?"
"Mistress…"
"Is it because you don't like me? Do you actually hate me?"
"Mistress, no!" Sella seemed aghast at her words, and even Leysritt looked horrified at the mere suggestion of them hating Illya.
"I-Is it something I have done?" Illya continued, unable to believe her maids when they claimed not to hate her.
"It has nothing to do with you, mistress." Sella was visibly losing her composure, her voice rising as Illya kept yelling at her.
"Then why?!" Illya screamed, her tone desperately pleading. "Why don't you want to be with me anymore?"
"Because we are a danger to you!" Sella shouted back, almost in tears herself, while Leysritt stepped forward, knelt down, and clumsily took Illya into a hug, both maids having their stone expressions smashed to bits now. "Because we are programmed to keep you here, at the Einzbern-castle."
"Sella…?"
"Mistress, we want nothing more than to come with you, nothing more." Sella clenched her hands into fists as she spoke, the laundry basket she'd been carrying lying forgotten on the floor. "But it is too dangerous. We were created as your maids, your guardians, and your prison guards. We are under strict orders never to let you leave the castle grounds, and if you were to take us with you, we would forever try to bring you back here."
"Forever." Leysritt confirmed in a small voice, tightening the hug, even as Illya felt wetness on her shoulder, indicating that even the unflappable combat-maid was unable to keep her eyes dry.
"L-Leysritt, are you crying?" Illya asked, to which the ditsy Homunculus immediately shook her head. "Yes, you are! You are crying!"
"Why wouldn't she?" Sella huffed, dabbing at her own eyes with a handkerchief. "Please don't take us for fools, mistress. You have spoken about escape before, but always in the context of the future. Now you speak as if it is a done deal, as if it is a certainty. May I assume you'll be leaving the castle today?"