It had been a day or two since they parted. Ren sat on a hill nearby as he watched the Roman army set up another base camp for the evening. Ritsu and Mash were currently out patrolling. Joan was keeping guard nearby some distance away. Loki was… well, they were off doing their own thing after everyone managed to extract a promise that they wouldn’t get into any trouble. It was a flimsy promise at best but given the base camp wasn’t on fire and the soldiers weren’t rioting, Loki seemed to be keeping their promise.

Despite everything, Ren couldn’t stop fretting quietly about Morgana. They had separated at times, yes. For missions, the time when Morgana left after the argument with the other Thieves, and of course, when they split up in the doppelganger’s Palace. In most circumstances, he wouldn’t be worried whatsoever. He knew better than almost anyone how capable Morgana was, and he trusted Archer and Medusa. They would be just fine.

And yet, things were different. Gone for this far a distance where they couldn’t help each other if things went wrong, on a war campaign filled with enemies that they knew little about. All he could do was have faith in him that they would all come out in the very end safe and sound.

There were still other things to consider, however. Medusa knew about Maruki’s dream world. How was he going to deal with that? The Thieves opposed and eventually dispelled it, but even they had to admit that world was perhaps fitting for some people. The conflict had been the Phantom Thief’s principles going against Maruki’s. No more and certainly no less. But they made their choice.

But in a way, they weren’t better than Maruki. Just as he made the choice for others, so they did for those same people.

He sighed as he relaxed back on the grass. There was little that could be done at this point. Medusa didn’t seem like she was going to betray them anytime soon, but he certainly couldn’t ignore how disturbed she seemed to be. How would he reconcile with her? Or at least have her understand? They probably needed to converse and clear the air between them. It may not be enough, but it was a start.

Ren had to chuckle to himself. It was these kinds of solutions that often outed him out as a Phantom Thief to his confidants to begin with. Well, that and stealing the hearts of the ones who were troubling them. That was basically a foghorn for anyone with half a brain cell. For all the crap the others gave Ryuji about his loud mouth, he wasn’t any better in the end.

He considered seeking out some company, but he shook his head. That wasn’t what he needed right now. Besides, who could he talk to? Ritsu and Mash were inexperienced and looked up to him for guidance. Joan wasn’t exactly the conversational type. Loki was… well, Loki. He considered Nero as well, but then he remembered the bags under her eyes in their last strategy meeting. No. He couldn’t burden her even further right now.

No. He needed to be with his own thoughts. He drew his phone out and tapped the Metaverse app. The map was still blank and many of the buttons were greyed out, including the option he was looking for. He sighed as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. Well, he figured it wouldn’t be that easy.

Suddenly, he heard one of the soldiers yelling that dinner was ready. Oh right – it was about time to eat anyway. He got up and began walking to his tent, where his rations waited for him. Maybe a full stomach and a good night’s sleep would help settle his nerves…

----------

Soft music echoed through the large hall, bouncing off the gently curving walls. Still exhibits were showcased and exhibited, connected by floating, colored staircases. Over it all, a giant figure towered over it all, yet it was just as still. Beyond was a night sky. It was devoid of people, yet it never felt too empty or deserted. Rather, it was just as it should be. Ren walked along the gallery’s second floor, hands in his pockets before leaning over the handrail, looking over everything. Despite everything, he wasn’t worried about his location.

After all, it’s the Thieves’ Den – his own mind. Why would he worry?

It was certainly a surprise when he went to sleep that he ended up here. It had been a while since he visited. During the third semester, he had come across this place through the Metaverse app. It had just brought him here and he simply… knew. He knew it was his own Palace and mind. And yet, he wasn’t worried. Unlike the Palaces of his targets, it gave off a clean, comfortable feeling. It felt like LeBlanc, but… cleaner.

The irony of that feeling didn’t escape him as he glanced down at an exhibit of LeBlanc down on the ground floor. Normally, his friends – or rather, his cognitions of them – would be touring the gallery, commenting on the various exhibits. Though they were his own cognitions, he had shared weal and woe with them and learned who they were, to the point where they were almost the same as reality. He truly wondered how some of his friends and confidants would’ve felt about their Metaverse adventures.

But now, there weren’t any. He should’ve felt distressed about it, but instead he just felt resigned. It was fine. He could use a bit of quiet for now with only a few close companions. And speaking of a few close companions…

“It’s been a while since we’ve had a chat like this, huh?” Ren asked casually as he turned around and beheld the figure that floated behind him. A bright red ensemble with high heels and a white cravat, with black wings like that of a raven’s. It was topped off with a black top hat with a pair of horns. The face was a black mask, yet flames danced and burned in the shape of a malevolent grin. His body burned with a blue flame, yet oddly gentle.

His other self: Arsene.

“Indeed, it has been some time,” Arsene agreed. His voice boomed out, sounding like a deeper, more confident version of Ren’s own. “You have been through many trials and with many more to come. Already they are leaving their mark on you.”

Ren looked back at the Thieves’ Den. Instead of the red and white dynamic color scheme that pervaded the gallery, the architecture looked far more reminiscent of Chaldea now. Most of the furniture and other furnishings hadn’t changed, but Ren had a feeling it would only be a matter of time. “Gotta say, I prefer the old décor better,” he commented casually. “I should switch it back when I get the chance.

Arsene didn’t laugh at Ren’s remark. “Your Phantom Thief regalia too is reflecting your change as well,” he added gravely.

He didn’t say anything for a second, then with a flash of blue flames, donned on his Thief gear once more. He checked his gloves. They were still splotchy from blood. It had been some time since Orleans, when that black knight grabbed his head until it began bleeding. He thought his gloves would’ve returned to normal, but if anything, it seemed like the spots had grown only darker and uglier. “I don’t suppose there’s a laundry service in the Metaverse?” he asked as he switched back to his Chaldean uniform.

“As these trials continue,” Arsene continued without acknowledging Ren’s humor. “More will change. You must brace yourself for it.”

The Phantom Thief sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I know,” he murmured as he turned back to the exhibits and leaned against the handrail once more. He glanced up at the tower being above them: A gold titan with turquoise circuit-like veins running through its body. Adam Kadmon, the true form of Maruki’s persona. He idly wondered how any of the Servants would’ve handled him.

A shiver ran down his back as he realized that any one of them would’ve dealt with it with ease.

“So if things are going to be so difficult, how come you’re not Satanael?” he asked curiously, glancing over at his persona.

There was a moment of silence from Arsene. “Because your will has wavered,” he answered gently. “Though it is of no fault of your own, your mind and heart have become disturbed from your loss, grief, and unacceptance of what needs to be done. Thus, it is why your self as Satanael is currently unavailable to you.”

Ren looked. Indeed, the chains that floated around Arsene looked as thick and solid as when the persona first appeared. If anything, they seemed even thicker and more solid. They reminded him of the chains that wrapped around his cell door back in the Velvet Room – chains that most likely would’ve shut him back in had the Velvet Room been any stronger.

He sighed again. “Yeah, thought that might be the cause,” he muttered. He couldn’t deny Arsene’s words. Ever since he got to Chaldea, things have become far different than he had ever expected. It wasn’t surprising he wasn’t able to hold on to the power of Satanael, the ultimate symbol of rebellion. He had been rebelling against cruel authorities who had been abusing their power as well as the apathy of society. He had built up his bonds and strength to do so.

But this? This was far beyond him. And he definitely had trouble accepting that.

“Is it just you here?” Ren asked as he began walking around the balcony. Arsene floated after him easily as they reached the exhibits and began walking down the floating steps. Despite having no handrails or the nature of said steps, Ren had no trouble at all walking them as necessary.

Arsene shook his head at the question. “No,” he answered. “Your other selves can appear here at any time. Although the Velvet Room may draw their presence out further for your use, they are always here regardless. After all, ‘I am thou, thou art I’.”

The Phantom Thief blinked and for a second, he was facing all the personas he had gathered and cultivated throughout his time in Tokyo. He blinked again and they were gone. Shaking his head, he walked down to the bottom floor, past an exhibit of Morgana as a bus to the replication of LeBlanc. “Well, it will be good to have some company around here later on,” he commented.

As he stepped behind the counter of the LeBlanc exhibit, his clothes shifted from his Chaldean uniform to his casual clothes, with a dark green apron over everything. He recalled when he had some spare time, Sojiro would sometimes call upon him to help with the café, whether brewing for customers or cleaning up. He was always happy to – he was living there, after all, and it was good to learn regardless.

Stepping into the kitchen, he glanced over at Arsene who had remained outside. “You want anything?” he called out.

The persona paused, then chuckled. “The house blend,” he requested, pulling out a chair and sitting on it. Ren had to admit, the sight of his persona just sitting there waiting for a coffee looked both hilariously out of place yet exceptionally fitting at the same time. It was an odd contrast.

Before long, Ren got to work. Although it was just an exhibit, the appliances and plumbing worked regardless. It probably helped that it was all just a cognition anyway. Even the containers were filled with genuine coffee beans. All of them labeled by both himself and by Sojiro in their time in LeBlanc. For a moment, he indulged himself in nostalgia and familiarity. The layout of the kitchen, the feel of the machines, the ever-present warm smell… it all washed over him and made him smile.

A couple minutes later, Ren had brewed two cups. Passing one to Arsene, he leaned up against the counter on his side and took a careful sip, being careful not to let the temperature scald him. Glancing over, he watched as Arsene drank too. He seemed to do so just fine, despite his ‘face’ being his mask, but he wasn’t about to question that front. They didn’t speak, simply spending time in companionable silence and enjoying the coffee.

After a couple minutes, their cups were empty and laid out on the counter. Ren sighed. As much as he was enjoying himself, he was never one to push off things for too long. “Well, I should probably get going,” he said, getting up and stretching. “We’ve a long march ahead of us, and much to do.”

“Indeed,” Arsene agreed as he stood up as well. Their cups were gone from the counter like they never existed to begin with. “Before you leave, I would emphasize one last thing.”

Ren blinked in surprise. “And what would that be?” he asked curiously.

The persona floated closer, his flaming eyes gentle. “Know that no matter what trials you undergo, no matter who you fight or the bonds you forge,” he reassured. “I shall be with you. I have been with you from the beginning, and I shall be there with you until the very end. Know that my power shall always be there for you to use as you see fit. Take heart in that, my other self.”

The Phantom Thief blinked again, then chuckled once more, a tear slipping from his eye. “Heh, thanks Arsene,” he murmured gratefully, smiling up at him. “Alright. I’ll see you when I see you,” he said as his vision began going white. It was a good thing to know – even if he was by himself, he was never truly alone.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

Then darkness came, and he knew no more.

---------

It had been another day in Rome. Soft perfume suffused the air with a sweet smell as incense burned in the braziers and wafted from the flowers around her. Her servants fanned her as she lounged on the sofa, casually plucking another grape to eat. The summer had been rather warm as of late, but that mattered little as the white cloth that barely covered her beautiful body easily allowed even a faint breeze to cool her off.

Nero stretched languidly. There wasn’t much to be done today. She could rest. After all, aside from some border conflicts, everything was working just fine. Her people loved her, her soldiers loved her, her officials loved her, her guards loved her. And she loved them in turn. And then there was the aristocracy and senators…

She had to sigh to herself just at the thought of them. Talks with them have never been less than arduous to the umpteenth degree, no matter what the issue. While she may love Rome’s citizens, they certainly made it challenging. Well, it mattered little. Love always came with its own challenges, after all. Regardless, she had some leisure time. Perhaps the company of a handsome young man or a nubile girl would be good way to pass the day.

Suddenly, she heard a commotion. Glancing over, she saw a soldier marching, almost running into her quarters. That caught her by surprise. Normally, these soldiers would be waiting on her pleasure, but the fact that one marched in so brazenly… the audacity had her curiosity.

The soldier saluted, panting. “Imperator, forgive the intrusion but I bring urgent news,” he gasped out.

“Speak,” Nero commanded, reclining on her sofa as she focused her full attention on the man.

“There are massive revolts occurring throughout the empire,” he reported. “A hostile legion is marching from Spain as we speak and will be here within two weeks. The citizens are divided whether to support them or the empire. And…”

The soldier faltered, causing the emperor to furrow her eyebrows. “Why do you hesitate?” she demanded. “Come, the rest of the news.”

“There have been reports of… doppelgangers,” the soldier continued hesitantly. “They portray themselves as Emperor Julius Caesar and Leonidas, among others.”

That caught Nero’s attention. “They have no small amount of audacity to take such names and titles for themselves,” she mused. Then she grinned and stood up, barely caring as her loose cloth slipped off her body, leaving her nude. The soldier, still standing at attention, immediately focused extremely hard on a point past Nero to avoid looking at her – not that she noticed.

“This is deeply amusing!” Nero declared. “If they are so brazen as to take up arms against my empire while donning such names, we shall have to see to their mettle! Soldier, find the legates and have them meet in the war room! Servants, dress me! We shall meet their might and show them the true glory of Rome!”

The soldier saluted and dashed out of the bedroom as her attendants retrieved a suitable wardrobe for the mission briefing. All the while, a beautiful, excited smile graced Nero’s features. This would be a fine battle! She would have to make a play of it, and of course she would take the leading act! It would be truly and utterly glorious!

---------

“Imperator? Imperator!”

Nero blinked in surprise at being called, she shook her head and looked back up at her concerned legate, who was across the table from her. They had a map and multiple reports scattered about. She smiled apologetically as she blinked off her drowsiness. “Forgive me, legate,” she apologized. “That was unsightly of me.”

Asisculus frowned. “Are you ill, Imperator?” he asked. “Perhaps we should continue this later?”

The emperor shook her head in response. “No,” she replied. “I thank you for your concern, legate, but we have much we need to do. I shall rest after this.”

The legate frowned in concern before nodding reluctantly. With that, they both resumed discussions about logistics, seeing what routes they could get to easily resupply while on the march. It was a discussion she had to undertake many times, and while they were almost as tedious as her meetings with the Senate and aristocrats, she took these ones far more seriously.

The first engagement with the United Roman Empire had been nothing short of an absolute disaster. A casualty rate of at least 40% with an all-out rout. The enemy forces took over towns and fortified camps, securing them. And slowly but surely, the United Roman Empire either caused large portions of Nero’s army and citizens to either defect or defeated them before moving on.

When Nero first read the reports, her mind had failed to comprehend the news. Her own citizens defecting? But shouldn’t they love her? And her army betraying her on top of that? She had to be vigilant, worried that she would end up with a dagger between her ribs - and it nearly happened once or twice. She kept a very close watch on her men after one too many incidents.

Everything after that happened in a flash. Further defeats and defections, lack of resources and manpower, and far, far more. She found herself implementing more and more policies in order to keep the empire afloat, eventually even reaching into her own luxuries so her own people could survive. The senate had been abolished as Nero took on emergency powers, executing or assassinating anyone among the aristocracy who protested. Manpower was supplemented with drafts, with the emperor even abolishing slavery and drafting in the now former slaves with the promise of pay and land.

And throughout it all, she read the reports, watched the faces of her people, and witnessed the state of her empire. They were all despondent and beyond hope. She labored for the empire and for her people – for if they loved her, how could she love them any less in return? And yet for all she did, for all they did, they barely held on. And after the initial assault, the United Roman Empire barely tried, content to just pick off the glorious Roman Empire like how an eagle would peck at a corpse.

It had been sobering, to say the least.

Throughout it all, she had contemplated. Her people didn’t love her. They defected, after all, and betrayed her. She was the Emperor of Roses! Why did they all turn their back on her? She poured herself yet another drink that night, wishing to drink herself into a stupor, and walked out to the balcony facing Rome. She raised her goblet to toast the empty city…

Only to see the small lights still burning within houses. The calls of soldiers as they organized and trained. People still trying to go about their day to day lives, wondering what they could do yet didn’t seem to contemplate leaving. Some couldn’t. But many wouldn’t. From that high balcony, she could hear their whispers and murmurs – all signs of life and loyalty.

Nero put down the goblet that day. She may not have been loved by all. But she was still loved by some, as fiercely as she did them. And that would be enough.

After the discussion, Asisculus departed to organize the troops for the morning, leaving the exhausted emperor to slump in her chair, sighing. She stared miserably at the map, the darker pieces vastly outnumbering the lighter pieces. The sight wasn’t all too uncommon to her nowadays. Frankly, the idea that the Chaldeans had landed upon was pure insanity overall. If it hadn’t been for their support, she wouldn’t have even considered it. Even now, she held heavy doubts.

But she was their emperor, and the Emperor of Roses didn’t show weakness to her own people, no matter what. No matter how much she didn’t believe her own words. She could only hope that in victory or defeat, her tale – their tale – would be as grand as the epics she had seen in the theater.

A splitting pain tore through her skull, causing her to grimace and clutch her head once more. Nero scowled. Her damned mother. Even now she continued to curse her and cause her misery. After Nero’s assassination attempt on her failed, cutting that woman down in public was the only way she could think of to put a stop to her machinations. It came with consequences that she nevertheless bore.

Throughout it all, she gripped the joys of life and being an emperor with both hands, clinging on like a lost sailor on driftwood: The luxuries her position afforded, the pleasures of the body, the love of the theater, the adoration of her people. Some might call it madness. For her, it was her right, her love, her duty, and her passion.

She stared once more at her map. What did she have left now? Frankly, if it was all committed to a character in a play, she would’ve called the writer a hack who relied far too much on misery at this point. If she wasn’t in so much pain and if she wasn’t in such a dire situation, she’d laugh.

Through the pain, she heard a gentle knock on the tent post. She glanced up. Was it one of the soldiers making a report? “Speak,” she called out.

“Good morning, emperor!” came a cheerful voice from outside. “One of the soldiers was gonna bring you breakfast, but I thought I should come and say hi myself!”

Nero blinked in surprise as her addled mind struggled to put name to voice. They only exchanged a few words, but she knew her… then she remembered. “Auxiliary Fujimaru,” she called out in recognition. The pain in her head was starting to abate, albeit slightly. Though she loathed to show weakness, it would be rude to turn away such an important guest. “Please, come in!” she cried, straightening herself so she at least looked presentable.

The redhead bounced in, grinning cheerfully while holding two plates of food – cheese and bread, standard fare for soldiers. Instead of any tankards for wine, however, she held underneath her arms two bottles of water, the bottles themselves seeming soft and translucent yet certainly doing their job. How peculiar.

“How are you doing, emperor?” Ritsu asked cheerfully as she set the plates down on the table (Nero noted she made sure not to put them down on the map or disturb the pieces). “Sorry if I’m barging in. We didn’t get much of a chance to talk so I thought I’d bring you breakfast!”

The emperor blinked in surprise, then smiled. “Not at all!” she replied cheerfully, ignoring the throbbing in her head. “I always welcome an opportunity to chat with new people! Please, do sit! Tell me about yourself, Auxiliary Fujimaru!”

Ritsu grinned as she pulled the chair from the opposite side of the table towards Nero. The emperor observed the excitable girl. The zest for life she had was unmistakable, as was her energy. Frankly, she regretted not being able to speak to her in private sooner. She didn’t carry herself with the calm, confident air of Ren, nor the boastfulness yet carefulness of Morgana, yet she was intriguing, nevertheless.

Suddenly, the redhead was in front of her face, her hazel eyes meeting her green ones in concern. Her cool hand was suddenly on her forehead, which soothed her a bit more than she expected. “Are you sick?” Ritsu asked bluntly. “You’re pale as heck and I can see the bags under your eyes. Have you been getting enough sleep?”

Nero’s mouth could only fall open a bit at the invasion of personal space and the lack of decorum from the auxiliary. Ritsu didn’t wait for an answer, instead getting one of the bottles of water. “Jeez, I guess being an emperor is not all that it’s cracked up to be, huh?” she muttered. She passed one over to her. “Can’t exactly relate, but overwork is still overwork.”

The emperor blinked before taking the water bottle from the excitable auxiliary. That done, Ritsu sat down in the other chair with a sigh. “Well, hopefully you can take it easy before we get marching again,” she murmured, running a hand through her hair. Then she came to a realization and pointed to the opening in the tent. “Er, should I leave?” she asked hurriedly, looking sheepish. “I know it’s not exactly restful with me around so if you wanna be by yourself then-“

“Oh, no, that is quite unnecessary, auxiliary,” Nero hastily replied, gathering her senses. When was the last time she had the touch of someone affectionate without her bidding or command? There was her mother, but those touches were… tainted. She dare not think of them. Even the company of the young men and women she indulged in the past hadn’t felt quite so pure.

The pain abated slightly, but she mentally scoffzed. Perhaps these migraines had truly addled her senses after all. She tried to pull open the cap of the water bottle, frowning as it resisted. A bit more pulling later, Ritsu leaned in to twist the cap off for her. Nero could only smile abashedly in thanks before taking a drink.

“I always welcome the chance to speak to foreign guests, especially ones as distinguished as yourself,” she continued, a genuine smile donning her features. “I am quite fine despite how I seem – for what emperor would not be fine and proud marching among their soldiers? Nevertheless, I thank you for your kindness and concern.”

Ritsu blinked in surprise before scratching her cheek, abashed. “A distinguished guest?” she repeated. “Come on, I’m not nearly qualified for that. Maybe Ren and Morgana or the Servants – oh, and definitely Mash, of course. They’re amazing. I’m just… me, y’know?”

Nero tilted her head in curiosity as she grabbed her plate. “And why would that be any less amazing?” she asked genuinely as she bit into some cheese.

That caught the redhead off guard. “Oh, uh, well,” she stammered. “I’m not anything too special – I’m not the smartest or strongest or anything. Most I can do is try to keep my chin up and take it.” Ritsu grinned. “But hey, if something needs to be done, I’ll do my best! It’s really all I can do but hey, it’s better than nothing!”

The emperor was left blinking before bursting out laughing. “That is true indeed!” she declared. “Doing what you can is indeed better than nothing! But I think you grossly underestimate yourself!”

Ritsu glanced up in surprise with a mouthful of bread in her mouth. “Beg your pardon?” she mumbled through the bread.

Beaming, Nero glanced around at her tent. “Tell me, what do you think is most important for an army?” she asked.

The Master blinked again and thought, swallowing her bread. She didn’t expect a pop quiz this early in the day. Ugh, what did Artoria and Archer say again? The most important thing for an army wasn’t exactly strategy or tactics, or even the soldiers and commanders. It was…. It was…

“Logistics?” Ritsu tentatively answered.

It was met but another peal of delighted laughter from Nero. “Indeed! Logistics is important for an army!” she agreed enthusiastically. “It is a lesson I had to learn myself for this entire war! One impressed to me by citizens, soldiers, and generals alike! But it is nothing a glorious emperor like myself couldn’t learn!”

Her smile almost faltered. In truth, it was certainly the harshest lesson she had to learn, poring over countless reports of supplies not being funneled properly and dealing with the massive influx of complaints from all the provinces still loyal to her. Some had even defected or fell as she couldn’t properly support them. Again, Nero had more of her inadequacies shoved in her face that she struggled to recover from.

Nero shook her head. “But there is one thing that is almost as important as logistics,” she answered. “Even if you are able to procure all the supplies needed for your men, what good is it if they do not wish to fight? When they have been burdened by blood and conflict for so long and yearn for peace, how do you get them to press forward?”

She stood up and looked outside the tent with a bright smile. “The passionate energy of a leader, the one who is able to stir their hopes and dreams and show them victory lies right beyond the horizon!” she cried. “Someone who will be there to pick them up when they fall and spur them forward no matter what! A glorious figure people would follow and help, no matter what! It is a prerequisite of any emperor if they wish to lead this marvelous empire!”

Ritsu blinked again in surprise and chuckled nervously. “Er, I think it’s more complicated than that,” she pointed out.

The emperor nodded, turning back. “Indeed, it’s far more complicated than that,” she agreed as she came back over and sat down. “But it is nevertheless a prerequisite. With your energy, you charge forward and draw people into your efforts. When your allies wish to fall, you will be their rallying banner so they can stand back up. Auxiliary Amamiya leads by cunning and will, with boundless confidence. Auxiliary Morgana leads by skill and tactics.”

She grinned at Ritsu. “And you, Auxiliary Fujimaru, shall stand separate yet just as prominent.,” she finished. “The tale of all of you shall make for fine fare for a theatre once we all stand victorious. I shall be the one to pen it – all of you alongside the magnificent Emperor of Roses, securing the future of Rome for the years to come! It shall be my magnum opus!”

Ritsu gawked, then laughed. “Jeez, you’re presuming a lot,” she giggled out.

Nero chuckled. “As an emperor, that is one of my prerogatives,” she replied simply.

Thus, a Master of Chaldea spent a delightful morning with the Emperor of Roses.