CHAPTER TEXT

The Thieves Den was serene as it always was. The soft, jazzy music playing in the background, the comfortable atmosphere, the various exhibits all floating on suspended platforms. The various TVs were off, though they could be switched on at will to display when its owner wanted at any time. It felt both like a gallery and a home at the same time still.

It truly was the home of a Trickster.

Lavenza stepped through the cell door into the Den. It had been quite some time since she had visited – despite their relationship, it was rare for the Trickster to invite her into his personal sanctum. She didn’t fault him for that; it was one of the places he sought solace and comfort, to reflect and relax. It was always an intriguing place, and every sight always stirred her ever-present curiosity. However, she would not intrude if he didn’t wish for company.

Even at a glance, it would seem the Den had undergone a few changes. Though it was mostly the same, she noticed that rather than the usual pristine white walls of the Den, they were now the faint blue-grey panels of Chaldea’s halls. In fact, she could see the Chaldean emblem further down. The railing used to be a steel and glass affair she had often seen in museums in the human world, but now were elaborately carved stone railings, reminiscent of those at the Roman emperor’s palace.

Speaking of the Trickster, he was currently leaning on the railing, staring out over the exhibits. Even though she had been the one overseeing his rehabilitation – or rather, her selves Caroline and Justine were – and was perhaps one of the closest to him, she still had trouble gleaning his thoughts at times. His personas were his masks, after all, and everyone wore their own. To discern through a mask was a challenge she was still undertaking.

“It has been a while since you last invited me here, my Trickster,” she commented, quietly walking forward. “Is there something amiss you wish to speak to me about?”

He turned around easily and smiled, not surprised in the least. He had been the one to invite her, after all. “Not at all,” he answered easily. “I just thought it had been a while since we had a good chance to chat, what with everything that has been going on lately.”

Lavenza blinked in surprise, then giggled. “True, though it is not something to fret over,” she reassured him with a smile. She was one who ruled over power, and the one who oversaw the Trickster’s conditions and trials. He didn’t have much reason to speak with her or her counterparts any more than necessary. Yet he saw fit to approach her when she was Caroline and Justine, and when she was made whole as Lavenza. He had been nothing short of kind and understanding, no matter the circumstances.

Was it any surprise she loved the Trickster so deeply?

“Your trials have been strenuous indeed, my Trickster,” Lavenza commented as she stepped closer. “If you require rest, then I do not mind awaiting until you have properly recuperated before we meet again.” She had watched him struggle and fight, physically and mentally. He was often pushed to the brink time and time again, and at times she feared he wouldn’t get back up. But each and every time, he did, to her constant amazement and wonder.

Ren laughed once more, a twinkle in his grey eyes as he looked over at her. “True, but it isn’t something to fret over,” he replied with a grin. Lavenza stared at Ren in surprise at his use of her words, then they both shared a quiet laugh. As she laughed, she felt a small weight lift from her diminutive shoulders. Ah, she shouldn’t have doubted him.

“Tell you what, it’s been a while,” Ren noted, getting up from the railing. “Would you like me to whip up some curry and coffee? It should still be as good here as it was in the real world.”

Lavenza blinked in surprise, then beamed. “I would be honored, my Trickster,” she replied gratefully.

The Phantom Thief laughed at the courtesy. “The honor is all mine,” he easily replied in return.

They began walking down towards the LeBlanc exhibit, easily stepping down the floating glass stairs despite the lack of any handrails. As they passed by an exhibit, however, Lavenza stopped, her curiosity drawn. In front of her was the young woman around the Trickster’s age. Armored, wielding a massive shield, with an expression of fierce determination.

Mash Kyrielight – the Trickster’s Aeon arcana.

“I must admit, I did not expect an Aeon arcana to show,” she commented, her words drawing Ren’s attention. “Once more, you are truly full of surprises.”

Ren blinked as he followed her gaze, settling on Mash’s fierce expression. “Is an Aeon arcana that rare?” he asked.

The attendant nodded. “Most of the bonds a Wild Card forms belong to one of the major Arcana,” she explained. “There are exceptions, of course – as you are aware from the Faith and Consultant arcanas.” Ren nodded, following along. Those were Sumire and Maruki, respectively. Sumire’s was even odder given how he fulfilled a bond with her Kasumi personality first before that false identity finally shattered.

“An Aeon arcana is far different than that of most other arcana, my dear Trickster, with challenges you may not expect,” she murmured as she glanced back at him. “Please bear that in mind as you continue to expand your bonds.”

Instead of elaborating further, she continued walking. The other exhibits stirred her curiosity and she wished to learn further. She hadn’t been this intrigued since she had visited the Trickster’s room so long ago, and while she had been privy to his adventures through the eyes of Caroline and Justine, to see them herself personally was a new, novel experience entirely.

Meanwhile, Ren followed behind, quietly contemplating Lavenza’s words. The words of caution had caught him by surprise. He had no doubt he would find out sooner or later what she meant but still, perhaps for the umpteenth time when dealing with the residents of the Velvet Room, he had to ask himself: What did they know that he didn’t? Was there something about Mash he hadn’t realized or found out yet?

And once more, what did Olga know?

In the meantime, Lavenza wandered to another exhibit that caught her interest. On display was a blue-skinned older man wearing high-tech black armor with a glass bubble helmet, sitting on a hovering mechanical throne. Surrounding the man protectively were various robots, each painted to look like they were wearing various colored business suits, with two particular ones towering over their much smaller compatriots and the man himself.

She had recognized this one. The one whose Palace and ruler embodied the aspect of greed: Kunikazu Okumura. She had watched with interest as the Trickster and his companions navigated through the factory and space station, intrigued by the cognitions that had fought against. These mechanical servitors were how the ruler had viewed his subordinates: Plentiful, expendable, and zealously loyal. It stood in stark contrast to how the Trickster treated his own bonds and how irreplaceable each and every one of them were.

But more importantly, recent events had reminded her of these servitors – a certain parallel she knew the Trickster shared. “While it is deplorable what has happened to these ‘robots’,” she murmured. “I must wonder how they compare to the Roman ‘soldiers’. Did those soldiers ever think or dream like the ‘robots’ do? Or were they truly merely mindless automatons?”

She glanced at one of the servitors – almost her height, painted in such a way that it looked like it wore a green suit, both lifelike yet lifeless at the same time. “But then, if they were truly mindless, then I suppose it would be a mercy,” she concluded. What those people had been through was deplorable, especially through the eyes of the Palace’s ruler. At least the automatons had no minds or bodies to suffer with. They were created to be disposed of. No more, no less.

“Yeah, pretty sure those soldiers were mindless,” Ren muttered distractedly as he stared at the robots. He could still feel the transparent blood running down his hands when he stabbed or cut into the soldiers. He rubbed his hand at the phantom sensation. The liquid was… thick and unpleasant. He didn’t know if that was what actual blood felt like, and frankly he didn’t feel like finding out. Shadows didn’t bleed and the robots simply exploded, after all.

Suddenly, he felt a soft, cool hand rest on his own, forestalling his motions and ruminating. He glanced in surprise to see Lavenza staring up at him in concern. “Are you alright, my Trickster?” she asked worriedly.

Ren blinked in surprise, then smiled once more as he stopped. “Sorry, it wasn’t an experience I was used to,” he admitted, gently turning his hand to squeeze hers in turn. “I’ll be fine, but thank you for your concern, Lavenza.”

Lavenza nodded, smiling slightly, before continuing on. The next exhibit they stopped at was a much larger exhibit: A massive golden lion, composed entirely of figures of people. Each figure lacked features, yet they were distinct enough that the beast was incredibly discomforting to even look at. Sitting on top of it was a large man in a suit and red cape, wearing an incredibly ostentatious helmet. His baleful yellow eyes stared down at two of them, his presence still looming despite being a still figure.

Prime Minister hopeful Masayoshi Shido – or rather, the one who had almost ruined the Trickster’s life and had been instrumental in setting him on his journey, resulting in the man’s own downfall. She didn’t know whether to thank the man or blast him with a Megidolaon. Well, no, she did know: the latter first, and then the former. And perhaps one more blast for good measure.

The Trickster was a good influence on her. She didn’t think she would be quite so kind.

“You know, when I faced him down,” Ren started, drawing the Attendant’s attention. “He was pretty intimidating. I even broke a sweat when he made things so it was just him and me.” Staring down the overly muscular shadow of Shido as he bombarded him with powerful attacks one after another as his teammates yelled encouragement or tried to get through the impromptu barricade Shido made… it was a harrowing experience, to say the least.

“He was a formidable foe,” Lavenza agreed. “Still, I believe you are a far greater man than he ever was, my Trickster. If anything, perhaps he should have feared you more.”

Ren blinked in surprise again, then laughed. “Maybe,” he admitted. “But I was gonna say, compared to the Servants I met so far, Shido doesn’t seem even half as intimidating anymore. Funny how things work.”

Lavenza glanced over at the exhibit again, meeting the figure’s eyes and tilting her head as she pondered. “… yes, I do see what you mean, my Trickster,” she replied finally in agreement. “He only has power on his side, but nothing else. Perhaps if it was a foe like Artoria Pendragon you faced against…?”

Ren felt a cold chill down his spine as he laughed nervously at the mere thought of it. “It would definitely be a challenging fight,” he commented. While Shido had been strong, that was all he had. Like the thug he ultimately was, he just slung his power around, seeking to batter down and overwhelm any and all opposition.

Artoria… She was wise, skillful, experienced, and fast. Frankly, while he faced off against many powerful individuals, the King of Knights was someone he never wanted to make an enemy out of. He was thankful they managed to defeat the blackened version of her in Fuyuki and she had been summoned as an ally since. It helped that they also got along pretty well. Frankly, he hoped to learn more from Artoria – he had a feeling she could teach him a lot.

“Oh?” Lavenza inquired, tilting her head curiously. “A challenge even you would balk at, my dear Trickster? Even though you so bravely challenged me when I was split apart, and once more when I was made whole?”

The Phantom Thief winced at the comment. He remembered challenging them. They had even conjured up cognitive copies of his friends so he could fight alongside them as he always did. It was merely a test of his strength and nothing more – and it was still some of the most harrowing fights he had ever experienced. They didn’t even go all out until it was clear he could take it.

“I can challenge, but that doesn’t mean I’m not terrified,” Ren admitted. “You, Caroline and Justine, and of course, Artoria are all in your own leagues. If I’m not a bit worried, then I’m probably a complete idiot. Besides.” Lavenza glanced over at Ren in question as the Phantom Thief grinned. “Isn’t bravery about doing something despite being terrified anyway?”

The Attendant blinked in surprise, then giggled once more. “That is quite true, my dear Trickster,” she agreed. “If it sets your mind at ease, know that if I were to fight the King of Knights myself, then most likely she would be victorious. Your assessment would be quite accurate.”

With that, she turned on her heel and finally began to walk toward the LeBlanc exhibit, finally feeling the pangs of hunger and tasting the spices on her tongue. Meanwhile, she heard the Trickster behind him sigh with exasperation and her smile widened slightly.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

As much as she loved the Trickster, it simply wouldn’t do to have him become complacent, after all.

------------

The afternoon came sooner than anyone expected. The Roman army had worked through the entire night, sleeping in shifts as they continued fortifying and preparing how they could. It had gone far quicker than expected, thanks to Ren’s Hecatoncheires helping them out during the day – aside from digging the trench, he also lifted supplies up to the walls, moved rubble, and other things. Once people got past the fact that it was an inhuman giant, it became a welcome sight to the Roman army.

Ren had gotten up early in the morning to attend the war council and planned to help them out once more, only for Nero to immediately shut him down before he could even suggest it. “Your abilities and skills are one of the army’s biggest assets right now, centurion,” she declared. “I will not have you exhaust yourself before the onset of the siege. You have done plenty for us yesterday – take as much of today as you can to rest and recover.”

To his surprise, the gathered officers nodded in agreement, one of them even clapping him on the back. It wasn’t from them simply agreeing with their emperor – that was their genuine thoughts. It was certainly surprising considering even after facing down Leonidas and his forces, the Romans were ambivalent towards him, but certainly a welcome change at this point.

Thus, Ren simply wandered about, observing and keeping an eye on things. The soldiers greeted him as he passed by but otherwise, he kept to himself as he tried to gauge the situation. There was definitely an air of nervousness that, while present the day before, was only emphasized further today. Glancing up, he noticed Jing Ke lazing about on the roof. Most likely sensing his attention, Jing Ke glanced over in turn, smirked and raised a bottle of hers in salute before relaxing with another swig.

He had to smile and shake his head. Drunk she may be, but without a doubt reliable.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?! Move aside!”

Blinking at the sound of familiar shouting, he turned to see Joan picking up two barrels and hauling them off, grumbling, as a soldier tailed after her with hurried apologies. That was a surprise. He hadn’t expected Joan to help out with the preparations either. Honestly, he had been meaning to talk to her but with how busy things had been, it was difficult. Not to mention, with everything going on right now, it wasn’t the right time for it.

But still, it was intriguing to watch her. Aside from Futaba, who was an odd circumstance, he hadn’t really dealt with anyone after they had their change of heart. The shadows he met down in the depths of Mementos where they were caged up didn’t count – they were scumbags before and after. All removing their Palaces did was simply take away the will to enact their depravity.

Then, as if sensing someone was staring at her (this seemed to be a common trend), Joan turned and blinked in surprise as seeing Ren there. Ren opened his mouth to greet her, only to be met with a scowl as she turned away and marched off even faster. He could only sigh as he scratched his cheek. He deserved that treatment still.

Still, with Nero and the other Servants (mostly) busy, he had plenty of time to himself. In the end, he found himself at the top of the walls, observing the distance. The clouds were rolling in, suffusing the land with a pallid light. There was no sign that it was going to rain anytime soon but the atmosphere was dreary, nevertheless.

He stared into the distance. Below him, the soldiers were working to widen the trench as well as lining it with stakes and oil, as well as taking further debris and continuing to pile it at the foot of the wall. Thanks to him, the trench was more or less ready. The soldiers were only putting in the finishing touches to allow for better defense. Beyond them were the dusty plains that surrounded Masilia. The region was relatively flat, allowing for easily marching and mobility, but there was a certain austere beauty to it.

Frankly, if he had the time or luxury, he would’ve loved to explore the city and the locale. Maybe he should consider a trip to Europe when he got back – he already visited France, Italy, and was on his way to Spain, after all. It would certainly be an experience comparing and contrasting the towns and cities he had seen.

“Of course you had to be here.”

Blinking, Ren glanced over as Joan dropped off baskets of arrows onto the battlements. He shrugged apologetically. “There’s not much people would let me do at the moment so I thought I might as well keep an eye out,” he excused. “I’m surprised you’re helping out so much, though.”

Joan sighed aridly. “Better than sitting around doing nothing,” she muttered. “Romans are supposed to be great engineers, but with everyone rushing around like chickens with their heads cut off, I’m honestly surprised there hasn’t been a worse accident. Might as well help minimize that.”

That explanation took Ren off guard. He expected her to help for a multitude of reasons – perhaps because she was bored or was working towards her own redemption. It most likely was still for the latter but to hear her concern for safety and the soldiers was still quite a surprise. He still remembered back in Orleans when she was throwing wyverns and twisted Servants at them without care, seeking to drown them out in both power and numbers.

She had come a long way already.

“Hey Joan, do you have a sec?” he asked.

The Lancer glanced up suspiciously, then sighed once more. “No, I don’t,” she growled. “There’s far too much that needs to be done and the last thing I need is for you to screw up my head even more.” Despite her sharp words, her tone had surprisingly little heat to it. She sounded more tired than anything. “Just keep what you gotta say to yourself until we get back to Chaldea, got it? We’ve a mission to complete here.”

Ren held up his hands in surrender and acceptance. “Alright,” he agreed. “I’ll respect your wishes.” And she did have a point – there was no sense in clouding her mind with more information, not when they had a siege bearing down on them. He was honestly glad that despite everything, Joan was thinking clearly instead of lashing out.

Still, with that conversation, it seemed the atmosphere around the two lightened somewhat – no longer did it feel so tense, like a taut cord about to snap any second. There was still some tension there, but no longer was it suffocating.

Joan glanced over at him, then sighed once more. “Again, I don’t understand you,” she grumbled.

The Phantom Thief glanced over. “Sorry?” he inquired.

“I see you pulling off all sorts of crazy stuff with your magecraft,” she growled. “You can use them to cause almost unmitigated chaos and destruction, or you use them to help things along. Even without those personas, I see you just chatting with Servants, emperors, and people alike – and they often seem better for it too.”

She leaned against the battlements, running a hand through her hair. “I honestly can’t tell if you’re suicidal, insane, some sort of demon and angel, or what,” she bluntly stated. “And I’ve worked with madmen. Just… who or what are you, Ren Amamiya?”

Ren blinked in surprise at Joan’s rant as he thought about how to answer her. What was he? A Phantom Thief, a falsely accused convict, a student, a barista… he was all those things and more. “I’m just someone who’s been through… well, a lot,” he admitted a bit lamely.

Joan stared at him for a bit with a deadpan expression before sighing resignedly. “How long of a story is it,” she asked wearily.

“Very,” Ren answered without hesitation.

“Then this can wait until after all’s said and done here,” she muttered. “But we will be talking about-“

The abruptness of Joan stopping had Ren glancing at her questioningly, only to see her staring into the distance with wide eyes. Ren followed her gaze – and saw the enormous dust cloud drifting up over the horizon. “Guess the party’s here,” Ren murmured. He turned back to Joan. “Let the emperor and the other Servants know the URE’s arrived,” he commanded. “I’ll go get the soldiers outside back in.”

The Lancer nodded without argument and jumped down from the wall to carry out his command. Ren took the stairs down and ran for the open gates. It seems things were only getting started now.

-----------

Everyone quickly set up. The soldiers outside had withdrawn quickly, taking their supplies back in before the gates to Masila shut. Everyone rushed to take their stations, with men rapidly lining the walls and bringing up last minute supplies. Makeshift barricades were also erected within the gate itself to funnel the URE army if they breached in. With the rubble at the foot of the wall combined with the trench, scaling the walls would also be a hard matter.

Nero stood above the gate in her golden armor, alongside Ren who had donned on his gifted Roman armor as well. Joan was stationed further down the wall while Loki and Jing Ke remained hidden but close by. Lu Bu was the only one not in the city – he was stationed outside on the north side to prevent the URE forces from fully surrounding the city. Joan would intercept the forces at the south if they tried to move that way, though the current plan was to concentrate enough firepower to make that unfeasible.

As the army approached, the sheer scale left Ren in awe. Column upon column of soldiers, lining up with their purple banners fluttering in the breeze. All armed and armored, gleaming despite the cloudy weather. Then remembering Jing Ke’s lesson, he looked past them – and blinked with surprise. No ladders, no siege engines, nothing. In fact, doing a quick count and some mental math showed there were fewer than expected. “There’s a lot fewer of them than what was reported,” he noted.

The emperor frowned. “Most likely they are setting up a camp and preparing what they need,” she answered.

Ren nodded. “Then I’m guessing this is just the preview to the show,” he commented, staring back out at the army. Most likely they were there as a display of force and intimidation, which meant someone was going to come out and demand to speak with them. And almost on cue, he could see a shift in the army. It was hard to see, but a detachment had separated from the main force and was moving towards them.

There were two chariots moving towards them at a steady pace. The one in front was being driven by a redheaded boy with messy red hair, wearing an elaborate cuirass. He was practically beaming as approached like an excited kid on a school trip. Despite his excited demeanor, he had no trouble controlling the horses as they trotted, easily handling their reins like he had done so his whole life.

In an absolute contrast, the other passenger in his chariot was a taller, grim-faced man. He wore a sharp black suit with a red tie, with long black hair that flowed down to his waist. Unlike his compatriot, his stance seemed casual, almost tired, but his eyes were scanning the fortress walls as well as everyone standing ready. The second chariot held two URE soldiers, loaded with a barrel and a large, full sack.

Yet, despite the disparity of the two in the front chariot, Ren found himself wary of them both. While the man in the suit was very much the obvious threat, something told him that the driver of the chariot was just as formidable in turn. “I get the feeling both are bad news,” he murmured to Nero who was similarly observing the convoy moving towards them.

Nero glanced at Ren before turning her gaze back. “You know something about the boy?” she asked quietly.

He shook his head. “Just a feeling,” he admitted.

Before Nero could respond, the convoy stopped a small distance in front of the gate. “Greetings, emperor Nero!” the boy cried out cheerfully. “Let us not stand on ceremony! We have with us some of the best wine that can be procured and delicacies from all over! Let’s break bread and share a drink first!”

The emperor frowned slightly. “A most tempting offer, and a generous one,” Nero called back. “However, I have made it a habit as of late to know the identities of those I eat with. You already know of my illustrious name, so I must ask for yours.”

The boy grinned in turn, seemingly undaunted by the request as he puffed out his chest. “I am Alexander!” he declared. “The king of Macedonia, and he who would conquer the whole world until I reach Okeanos! With me is my most loyal retainer, Waver Velvet!” At the mention of his name, the suited man – Waver – bowed respectfully before returning to observing everyone for any and all details.

Meanwhile, as Nero frowned beside him, Ren started. Wait, Alexander? King of Macedonia? In short, this boy was the legendary Alexander the Great? He knew Servants were probably far different from their portrayals he had studied in class, but this was almost as big a stretch as learning that King Arthur was a girl. However, as proud as Alexander’s boasting was, he could tell there wasn’t a single falsehood in his declaration.

His retainer, however… As much as Ren racked his brain, he couldn’t remember anything in history about a ‘Waver Velvet’. In some ways, that made him just as dangerous as Alexander – unlike the young king, he had literally no knowledge of how competent he was or what he specialized in. All he knew for certain was that if the king was bringing him and even introduced him, he had to be remarkable in some way. And with the way he had been observing them… perhaps he was the strategist?

Meanwhile, Ren’s shock hadn’t gone unnoticed by Nero who glanced over at him. “I presume you have heard of their names?” she quietly asked.

Ren frowned. “Not his retainer, Waver Velvet,” he admitted. “However, Alexander himself is pretty well known to me. He’s not going to be an easy opponent.”

The emperor frowned in consideration. “Is he trustworthy?” she asked.

That was a harder question. He stared hard at the convoy, at the still beaming king and his more modern retainer, as well as the other chariot laden with wine and food. He took a deep breath, then answered. “I think we should be fine,” he said. “Alexander follows a lot of Greek customs, which include sacred hospitality. So long as we don’t try anything, there shouldn’t be any problems.”

“If that is the case, I’ve already violated several rules of hospitality,” Nero muttered. “But we are at war – some exceptions must be made.”

“I’m sure he understands that,” Ren reassured her quietly.

Nero frowned slightly, then raised her voice once more. “Then enter and be welcome, Alexander!” she cried out. “Though we may be foes, let us carouse and speak our minds at the table! I warn you, however, I have high standards for both wine and delicacies!”

Alexander laughed, the sound clear as a bell and mirthful. “I would be worried if it were otherwise!” he replied cheerfully. “You shall not be disappointed, emperor Nero!”

The emperor nodded, then turned to the soldiers near the gatehouse. “Open the gate!” she cried. As the soldiers rushed to follow her orders, she turned back to Ren. “Centurion, attend me,” she commanded. “Your knowledge and observational skills will be key to this discussion, and your powers will also ensure nothing will go awry-“ She stopped as she noticed something. “It seems your… accessory is flashing, centurion,” she noted, pointing at his communicator.

Ren blinked as he brought it up. He had been so busy thinking that he didn’t notice. “Yeah, looks like I have a call to take,” he replied. “I’ll deal with this, then meet you at the governor’s house.”

Nero nodded. “Do what you must, centurion,” she agreed. With that, she walked off, flanked by her officers as Ren moved to a quieter corner and turned on the communicator, displaying Roman’s holographic face. “Hey Roman,” he greeted. “I’m guessing you got news?”

“Not quite news, but definitely information,” the doctor clarified. “I’m sorry but did Alexander introduce his retainer as ‘Waver Velvet’?’

“He did,” Ren confirmed. “I’m guessing you know the name?”

“Know the-“ Roman spluttered before he regained his composure. “Waver Velvet, also known as El-Melloi II, is one of the lords of the Clock Tower,” he explained seriously. “While his own magical ability is not the greatest, he specializes greatly in magical theory. Many in the Clock Tower attribute the increase in higher quality magi to his teachings.”

Ren blinked in surprise at the information. “So… he’s an extremely well known, knowledgeable magus,” he slowly summed up. “Is that enough for him to be a Servant?”

“It shouldn’t be!” Roman denied. “It’s a very long story but to put it simply, no modern human should be able to reach the Throne of Heroes! If there is, there’s probably some incredibly specific circumstance for them to get in, which I don’t think El-Melloi II has!”

----------

Somewhere over the Mediterranean, Archer sneezed.

----------

The Phantom Thief blinked again. “Wait, so if he can’t be a Servant,” he said. “Then what is he?”

The doctor bit his lip. “I’m not sure,” he replied. “I’ll have to get some readings and ask around but for now, just be careful!” With that, Roman cut off the communication, leaving Ren to sigh. He began walking toward the governor’s house, feeling uneasy but determined nevertheless.

The complications never seem to end.