Olga sighed as she relaxed in the Velvet Room, leaning up against a wall. It had been a hard day (or was it night? Time was an odd concept in here) for her. Her magic circuits burned in her body – the telltale sign that she had used magecraft. When Ren saved the portion of her mind and memories, he also managed to save a bit of her soul as well. The soul was where magic circuits were engraved, so thankfully she managed to retain use of her magecraft. As for her crest, they were able to restore that too.
That part she was slightly miffed about. Crests were supposed to be a specialized, dedicated secret. They certainly couldn’t be replicated easily without some unsavory acts in the Moonlit World. But frankly, she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. She could continue utilizing her Animusphere magecraft as needed. And now she was using it to work on a personal project with Igor’s permission.
“My, you certainly have been busy,” came a high-pitched masculine voice.
The new attendant glanced over blinking as Igor and Lavenza stepped forward. The former has his perpetual grin as he gracefully strode across the floor with his arms behind his back. Lavenza followed close behind, the sizeable Compendium tucked under her arm. It was clear the two had come to check in on her out of curiosity.
The section of the Velvet Room was much like the main room – a smaller panopticon prison, with empty cells lining the circular room. However, it was missing the carpet as well as Igor’s desk in the middle, leaving the room looking incredibly barren. But that worked for Olga – she had asked for an empty room to work with. If she needed furnishings, she had no doubt Igor would’ve supplied them. And more importantly, the two of them was staring curiously up at the new addition to the room:
Instead of a ceiling, the chamber opened up into an infinite night sky, with orbiting planets and glimmering stars.
Olga nodded wearily as she got up from the wall. “I thought I could use some of the Animusphere magecraft and combine it with the power of the Velvet Room,” she explained as her gaze turned above. “It seems that shifting the planets and constellations here can also shift cognition – which in turn affects personas. At least, that’s the theory.” She frowned as she crossed her arms, still looking toward the artificial stars.
“An intriguing concept,” Lavenza marveled. “Humanity has long used the stars and planets to chart out paths – be it of travel, time, or of fate itself. Their effect on cognition cannot be overstated.” The girl glanced back down at Olga with a smile. “Truly an ingenious idea,” she complimented. “I had not expected your studies to bear fruit so quickly. I commend you, Olga. We had not considered such an opportunity ourselves.”
The mage waved off the compliment. “It’s the least I can do,” she dismissed. “Nor is it complete yet. I still have to add various constellations and other stars, figure out their movements and how to manipulate them, and most importantly, just what kind of effects they would have on personas.”
She sighed as she ran a hand through her silver hair. “I’ll have to do more studying and research,” she grumbled. “As well as run some experiments as well. If you’ve any star charts I can utilize, it would be greatly appreciated. Perhaps any documentation about constellations and navigational charts throughout history as well. I believe a few civilizations had-“
“Peace, my dear,” Igor cut in, raising a hand to quiet her. “You have done much in a short span of time. You deserve to rest a bit. Perhaps we can take some time to admire the stars?”
Olga blinked in surprise, then glared. “There’s no time for that!” she snapped. “Every minute, every second I waste is another that could go towards saving humanity! There’s more that I can do here, whatever it takes to help Amamiya succeed no matter what! Or perhaps something that would give not just him, but all of us an edge if necessary! I may have discarded my role as the director of Chaldea, but that does not mean my responsibility is any less-“
“Is this responsibility, my dear?” Igor asked, his soft tone freezing her rant cold. “Or is it guilt?”
“G-guilt?” the former director stammered. “What do you mean by guilt?”
Lavenza stepped forward, an expression of concern. “We are aware of many things,” she murmured. “Including your past, Olga Marie Animusphere.” Olga shuddered. Lavenza the last time called her by her full name was when she first woke up panicking in the Velvet Room.
“You were neglected in the past by your father, then had a tremendous burden placed on your shoulders by his passing,” she continued. “You did your absolute best despite all the ridicule and scorn heaped on you, then betrayed by who you thought was your beloved mentor and saved by a man you had initially scorned.”
Olga winced. They weren’t wrong, which was the worst part. The leader of Team A, Kirchtaria Wodime, was favored to be the heir of the Animusphere family instead of her. No matter how hard she studied or tried to prove herself, she was always in his shadow, to the point where her father treated her as nonexistent.
Then when he died, she became director by default. She puffed herself up and did her due diligence as much as she could, but she wasn’t deaf. She heard the words spoken behind her back as she struggled: her position gained only by nepotism, her utter incompatibility and failure to be a Master, her incompetence compared to Wodime. During that time, she relied on Lev Lainur for comfort and support. Ever since she was young, he had guided her and taught her. She regarded him more as a father than her own father ever had been.
And in the end, the man – the demon - only laughed madly as he tried to cast her into the flaming orb of CHALDEAS, bound to suffer forevermore. Her last pillar of support was gone just like that. It was only by a desperate attempt by Ren Amamiya, a person she had initially dismissed – and even slapped – that saved her from damnation.
Her life had been one cruel irony after another, with no chance to step out of anyone’s shadows, without a chance to prove herself and her own qualities. Here was her second chance. Was she about to falter here once more?
Her rumination was interrupted as Lavenza walked forward, placing her tiny hand on her own. The coolness of her touch brought her back to her senses. “You have worked so hard and undergone so many cruel trials,” Lavenza murmured. “Comparable to many of our guests – even the Trickster. But you need not push yourself so hard here. So please, do not torment yourself by believing what you are doing isn’t enough.”
“We do require your strength in days to come,” Igor gently added in. “And reasonably pushing your limits is greatly encouraged. However, you have done plenty already. To continue further like this will only harm yourself. Neither our dear guest nor we wish that to come to pass.”
Olga blinked in surprise. Their reassurances and words, trying to dissuade her from pushing herself to such an insane degree, were warm and worried. It was a contrast compared to the cold demeanor her father and fellow mages had given her, or the sickly-sweet compliments her peers used to butter her up or ingratiate into her good graces – that was, until rumors circulated that Wodime was to be the Animusphere heir as opposed to her. After that, it had been nothing but jeers.
Thus, the ever sharp-tongued girl was at a loss for words. Her lips moved but weren’t able to form the words to properly speak. She didn’t know whether to retort or argue or even to thank them. She didn’t know what to do.
Lavenza smiled sympathetically. “You are without a doubt a diligent worker and will make a fine attendant,” she said confidently. “More than worthy of the Trickster’s attentions.” Ignoring the now spluttering Olga, she turned to an empty corner of the room. “No doubt right now he is doing all he can to fix the singularities,” she continued. “Let us witness his progress, shall we? Perhaps it might relax you.” With a wave of her hand, the air in front of her shimmered, revealing…
“Oh,” Lavenza gasped, her hands raising to her mouth. “Oh my.”
Olga on the other hand was far less reserved. “AMAMIYA, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?” she screeched, her eyes almost bulging out of her sockets as she somehow grabbed the incorporeal window and was trying to shake it. “YOU’RE FLIRTING WITH YET ANOTHER WOMAN?! IN THE BATH?!? AND IT’S THE EMPEROR OF ROME NOW?!? FIRST MASH THEN FUJIMARU THEN THE QUEEN OF FRANCE?!?!? DOES YOUR DEPRAVITY KNOW NO LIMTS?!? ANSWER ME, AMAMIYA!”
Igor meanwhile took one look through the window, turned around, and proceeded to stroll out with Olga’s outraged screams echoing behind him. The guest’s brew was quite delightful when he brought back a sample to the Velvet Room. Perhaps another cup was in order.
----------------------------------------
Ren gulped as he tried not to stare at Nero who was calmly washing herself in the bath, wiping her body of the dirt and grim of the day’s labors. He looked about desperately, trying to find an escape or leave. Nero glanced over and giggled slightly. “Are you shy about seeing me?” she asked rhetorically. “Don’t be. My body is a gift granted to me by the divine Venus, after all. Do gaze upon its beauty – it is perfection, after all.”
The Phantom Thief cleared his throat as he forced his panic – and even more alarmingly, his arousal – down as he continued to look everywhere but her direction. “Er, in my country, it is considered extraordinarily rude to stare at someone of the opposite gender in a bath,” he quickly made the excuse. “Or just staring in general. So please don’t take it as an insult if I’m trying extremely hard not to look.”
Nero huffed. “How prudish of your country,” she grumbled before shrugging. She moved to a wall – a distance away from Ren, much to his relief – and sat down, sighing in relaxation as she submerged up to her shoulders, eyes closed. Ren chanced a glance. Thankfully, with the opaqueness of the water and the steam, he couldn’t see anything underneath the surface.
He considered his options. He considered leaving the bath, but with Nero there she would definitely see his more… important parts, which he really didn’t feel like exposing at the moment even if she was okay. Not to mention, it would be rather rude of him to bail when she had just joined him in the bath so willingly. She might take it as an insult, and he’d rather not have to deal with that at the moment.
Ren mentally cursed. No matter how he thought about it, he was basically stuck here at the pleasure of Nero.
Deciding to keep his mind off things, he decided to broach a topic. “So, what’s with these partitions?” Ren asked out of curiosity, nodding towards the walled-off sections of the bath. “Seems a bit… out of place in such a luxurious environment.”
Nero opened an eye and looked toward the indicated makeshift walls. She sighed. “Most of the water that has been normally pumped for my baths has been directed back towards Rome instead,” she explained, closing her eye once more. “I kept this little section for my own use. Considering the water shortages, it would not do for me to continue hoarding vast amounts of it for mere luxury, emperor or no.”
That took Ren by surprise. He remembered from his history lessons that Nero was known for his (her?) decadence and waste, like commissioning luxurious, expensive baths, using them once, then tearing them down. There were other things he learned about Nero, but they were quickly already melting away. “Is the situation that bad?” he asked earnestly, looking over at Nero in concern.
The emperor opened her eyes. Her playful green eyes had turned serious and the smile she wore was gone. “How much do you know about statecraft, auxiliary Amamiya?” she asked. The tone was calm and without a hint of condescension.
The Phantom Thief blinked and shook his head. “A little bit but honestly not much,” he admitted. While he was leader of the Phantom Thieves, that didn’t exactly give him a lot of experience in running a country. Even social studies and history lessons didn’t exactly delve into the greatest detail – and that was assuming he remembered any of it once the subject matter passed by.
Nero nodded, relaxing back into the bath. “An empire requires many things to run,” she explained, closing her eyes once more. “Much of it comes down to fundamentals: Food, water, shelter. However, from there it always branches out into myriad questions and trials, and that branches out even further, and so on and so forth.”
Ren blinked. “What do you mean?” he asked.
Sighing, the emperor opened her eyes again, staring at the ceiling. “Where would our food come from?” she asked rhetorically. “Who would collect and maintain it? Supervise it? Who would transport the food? How would they get paid? How would we deal with land, seasons, and drought? Where can we grow our food? How would we defend the farmlands from wolves, bandits, and enemy soldiers? Is there a possibility of higher yield farmland we could seize? What about tools? Is metal readily available for smithing tools as necessary? Could inventions be made to produce higher yields?”
She glanced over at Ren. “That is but one facet of what an emperor must handle,” she explained. “There are many other questions dealing with other resources as well. Some considerably more complex yet are nevertheless essential to making sure Rome and the Empire remain prosperous and beautiful. And these questions become even harder to answer when it is wartime.”
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Ren could only nod slowly. Even just that line of questioning had his mind swimming a bit. This wasn’t his forte and his mind was tripping over finding answers to such questions. He had no doubt Makoto would be far better about it, but it required no small amount of knowledge to answer. He was definitely out of his depth here – running an empire was definitely not part of his studies, either in school or in the Metaverse.
“It definitely sounds like an issue,” Ren replied carefully. What else could he say at the moment?
Nero hummed. “Umu, that it is,” she agreed. There was a moment’s pause as they both simply soaked in the bath. Then Nero spoke up again. “Tell me, what do you think of Rome?” she asked.
The question caught him off guard. He considered heavily. Nero seemed to be extraordinarily proud of Rome and the empire, and all that it entailed. Why would she ask him such a question though? Did she want his opinion of it or was she looking for perhaps more praise? Or was there another reason? Nero was considered a mad tyrant by history – what if the wrong answer meant his death? He had to be careful here.
“It’s a beautiful city,” Ren replied earnestly. “I’d love to explore it if I could. The architecture is quite magnificent and-“
He was stopped by Nero waving a hand in dismissal. “You need not assume such pretentions,” she sighed. “Although I love Rome with all my heart and Rome reciprocates fully, I’m not blind either. Speak candidly.”
That caught him off guard. Okay, maybe he could’ve done a better job of selling his point. Still, he had to be cautious in case Nero took any offense to his words. “It… definitely has seen better days,” he answered cautiously, keeping a careful eye on Nero to gauge her reaction. “It was probably glorious in its heyday, but that’s certainly not the case right now. It seems a lot more… ruined than I expected, to be honest.”
Nero nodded sadly. “Yes, that’s about the right of it,” she murmured, running a hand through her golden hair tiredly. “This war has been sapping our resources – what little we can spare at this point anyway. Many things, from quarries to mines to farmlands, are currently occupied by the enemy. Even the ones we currently have access to, the roads that would carry supplies are harried by enemy forces, bandits, and some other manner of beasts.”
Ren remembered the time back in Japan when the psychotic breakdowns were always on the news, particularly the news stories where the subway trains were constantly crashing, leading to massive traffic jams. Sojiro especially grumbled about it when he tried to drive him back from Shujin after introducing Ren to the teachers and principal.
“So even traffic delays are a thing in ancient Rome, huh?” he murmured to himself, slightly amused despite it all.
“Did you say something, auxiliary?” Nero asked curiously, looking over.
Ren shook his head with a smile. “No, it’s nothing,” he replied honestly. “I can certainly see how that would be an issue though.”
Nero gave Ren an odd look, then dismissed it with a shrug. She stood up from the bath, forcing Ren to look away once more while again suppressing his desire. Without giving a second glance at him, she stepped out of the bath and walked toward the balcony, taking a towel nearby and wiping herself off. After a few minutes, Ren chanced a glance back at Nero to see if she was dressed. And indeed, she was.
If ‘dressed’ meant essentially a strip of transparent red cloth, edged with gold, that draped over her shoulders loosely and covered only her chest and between her legs – and nothing else. Her golden hair cascaded down her back, thankfully covering a great deal of her form, but it was still a tantalizing figure nevertheless that forced Ren to once more look away.
“So, what are the forces we’re fighting against then?” Ren asked as he struggled to keep his bodily functions under control.
Nero poured herself a cup of wine from a pitcher and a goblet that sat nearby. “Is it not obvious?” she asked. “We fight against Romans. An enemy that knows the empire inside and out, knows how we function, how we structure our troops, the lands we have, and more.” She took a sip of the wine as she stepped closer to the balcony and stared out, seemingly not caring about the cool breeze. “It is truly a vexing problem; one we need to resolve one way or another.”
Ren blinked. “A civil war?” he asked. Those weren’t exactly uncommon for a lot of nations. Japan itself went through quite a few of them throughout its history, like the Warring States period. What he recalled about the Roman Empire was that it often had to deal with the same thing, coupled with a lot of backstabbing from various senators or the Praetorian Guard. Caesar’s assassination was the most infamous but there were plenty of others as well.
The emperor laughed – a bitter sound unlike her clearer, mirthful laughter from earlier in the day. “If only it were that simple,” she replied. Ren awaited an answer but it didn’t seem forthcoming. “Come here, auxiliary.”
The command caught Ren by surprise yet again. He stepped out of the water and grabbed a towel to wrap around his waist, wondering if he had time to put on his clothes as well. Just as he was about to walk over for the clothes, Nero turned her head slightly in his direction. He gulped – she was expecting him, and he had a sinking feeling she didn’t wish to wait.
Making his way carefully over so he didn’t slip, shivering at the feel of the cold marble against his feet, he joined Nero on the balcony. The balcony opened to the rest of the palace below them, then the city of Rome, stretching on for as far as he could see – at least, as far as he could in the darkness. “Tell me, what do you see?” the emperor asked.
Ren squinted as he tried to make out some details. “I see some soldiers marching in the streets,” he murmured, picking out as many details as he could. His eyes slowly adjusted to the dark and allowed him to pick out some more details. “A good number of buildings and architecture. Um… that’s really all I can see.” He had no choice but to admit defeat there. It was simply too dark to see more details. He turned back to see Nero scrutinizing him closely, her green eyes staring hard at him.
Then Nero once again gave a bitter laugh. “It is exactly as you say, auxiliary,” she replied. “At this time of night, the streets would still be bustling – you would see the flow of people going to taverns or brothels, visiting markets. Many of these buildings would be lit up as people lived in them, for good or ill. It was a place of warmth and of life. That was Rome – for all its achievements, for all its splendor and beauty, the crown jewel of the city and of the empire, were its people.”
She leaned against the railing. “The sounds of life and jubilation would often reach my ears,” she murmured, her eyes misty in recollection. “And of course, the theater. Ah, the acts and drama, the cheers and tears of the audience. To be able to move the feelings of an audience – be they rich or poor, young or old, from all different walks of life – is truly a marvel of its own.”
The emperor smiled, then grimaced, holding her head. Ren looked over in surprise, immediately ignoring her lightly clothed state. “Nero? You okay?” he asked worriedly.
She smiled, though it still looked more like a grimace. “It’s a bout of headache,” she replied, her tone a bit faint. “It shall pass. I thank you for your concern though, auxiliary.” She turned back to stare out over the city. “Better to focus on what can be done than what cannot,” she murmured.
Despite her pain, she smiled as she swept a hand over the city. “Once we have won this war, life shall come back to the empire and the city,” she declared. “I will pen a fine epic to commemorate the whole war, and I myself shall perform it in theaters! Umu! It shall be the most fitting way to celebrate our victory and triumph! I trust only myself to convey the emotions and extraordinary actions in our tale!”
Ren blinked in surprise and smiled. “You’re a huge fan of the theater, I take it?” he asked rhetorically.
Nero turned to him fully now with a broad grin. “Not merely a huge fan,” she correctly brightly. “Aside from my duties as an emperor, it is my one true love throughout my life! A singer, a director, a writer, I am all that and more, as befit the Emperor of Roses! Auxiliary Ren Amamiya, for indulging in my conversations and being a most splendid and welcome guest, you shall have firsthand experience of my talents right now!”
The Phantom Thief smiled – when he remembered another historical fact: That when Nero performed, he(she?) was so bad that people were leaving throughout the performance, enough that the emperor ordered the exits barred so they couldn’t exit – or rather, escape.
And here he was, point blank, about to experience that historical fact in full force as Nero took a deep breath. “Er, emperor Nero, I really don’t think it’s necessary-“ Ren hurriedly interjected.
Too late. Nero sang, and the only thing Ren knew after was pain.
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As the sun set, the light gave way to a void glistening with stars in the void above, shrouding the world in darkness. The city itself barely illuminated by what few lights remaining from patrols or people in their homes. A full moon hovered in the night sky, illuminating everything in a dim, mystical light. The shadows stretched long under the moonlight, lending an air of mystery to the locale. It was a scenic sight.
One that Joan took in for a bit before going back to her book. She sat on the windowsill, using the moonlight to see better. The braziers had been put out – they were harder to extinguish than regular lights and reading by candlelight would have been difficult. The moonlight worked well enough for her purposes here, and she didn’t exactly feel like reading in bed anyway.
She had taken a book about Roman society before leaving for the excursion (with Medusa and Da Vinci’s permission) and was reading up on it. Compared to the time she lived, the Roman Empire was both more and less… developed than she expected. The more organized structures and military as well as architectural innovations and wonders compared to the rather rough formations of soldiers and knights she ‘remembered’ as a saint as well as the rougher castles of her time.
But even then, there was no small amount of backstabbing and politics between all the noble factions, infighting, alliances for ones’ own benefit, and more. That, she was more than familiar with. She had to smile bitterly as she remembered the whole bit of Hundred Years’ War and what she studied from the books in Chaldea’s library. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same, it seemed.
The conversation between her and the original Jeanne had been… enlightening. Since Joan’s memories were artificial and only comprised of her trial and subsequent execution, the most she had to go on were her either faint impressions (such as the food she normally ate) or from those books as well as her experiences from her brief time in Orleans. Speaking with Jeanne filled in no small number of gaps as the saint related her experiences when she had been alive.
Details about the soldiers she fought alongside and ate with, generals she strategized with as well as her impressions, the various nobles and kings she met… those were the experiences Joan had been missing. True, hearing Jeanne talking about them warmly only got the Lancer more annoyed, but she suppressed it. Jeanne was who she was and had accepted that. Joan was still trying to figure everything out. Who was she to judge at this point?
“Do you really need to keep an eye on me?” Joan muttered, not lifting her eyes from her book.
There was a moment pause before Tamamo appeared in a golden shower. “Oh please, you are hardly worth the personal attention,” she huffed, not even facing Joan as she scanned a wall. “I’m merely making sure my talismans were doing their job.”
“And what would that be?” Joan asked skeptically, glancing up from her book.
“Keeping out assassins and warding off spies,” Tamamo replied easily. “And Loki.”
Joan paused, then nodded. Fair enough on that front. Nobody liked that smirking imp in the slightest. Why their Master thought it would be a good idea to bring them was frankly beyond any of the group. All they could do was make sure the Avenger didn’t do too much damage.
Tamamo glanced back at Joan. “I don’t believe we have been introduced yet,” she commented. She gave a respectful bow to the Lancer, her tail moving to the side. “I am Tamamo-no-Mae, a Caster Servant, contracted under Chaldea. And you are?”
The false saint narrowed her eyes at Tamamo, then sighed heavily. Much as she wanted to get back to reading, knowing who she was fighting alongside was the least she could do. Not really knowing or attempting to get along with her Servants led to a whole host of complications back in Orleans, after all. “Lancer, Jeanne d’Arc Alter,” she grumbled out, knowing the inevitable slew of questions incoming. “Just call me Joan.”
The Caster blinked in surprise as her fox ears twitched. “You’re a Servant? And an Alter at that?” she asked skeptically. “I can’t sense you are one, yet you do not seem to be lying. An Alter of Jeanne d’Arc… How is that possible?”
Joan sighed. “It’s a damn long story that I really don’t want to recount tonight,” she growled, waving off the question. “If you want the long version, ask Amamiya, the cat, or the shield girl. The short version: I was created to be the destroyer of France as some cocked-up revenge scheme based on the Maid of Orleans, then was incarnated. Damn if I know why it happened, but here I am making amends. Satisfied?”
Tamamo’s eyes widened. Then she sighed. “You don’t seem to be the type to lie,” she murmured in response, her agitated tail waving a clear sign of her turmoil. “Though such a tale begets many questions. I will not pry, though I must admit I’m quite curious. It is an uncommon situation, to be sure.”
The Lancer rolled her eyes. “Get in line,” she grumbled. “If anything, our Masters are far weirder than I am. And before you ask, no, I’m not about to get into detail about them. Ask them – I can barely understand it myself.”
Ears perking up, she stared curiously over at Joan. “What gives you that opinion?” she asked curiously. She already had a feeling that the Masters she had been summoned to weren’t ordinary, even by magi standards. However, her intuition told her that Joan wasn’t understating it in the slightest. So what made them so unique after all?
Joan blinked in surprise, then clicked her tongue while running a hand through her white hair. “Not my place to tell,” she replied flatly. “Ask them or don’t – not my business at this point.”
The Caster’s tail swished in annoyance at the dismissal, but she got the point. The Lancer wasn’t about to tell her because either she didn’t know or she couldn’t answer. She sighed as she went back to checking the talismans and making sure they were intact. “Still, to be incarnated is quite a turn of fortune,” she commented.
The Lancer sighed and closed her book. It was obvious she wasn’t getting any more reading done tonight. “Yeah, heard the same from yet another person,” Joan grumbled, recalling the reassurance she received from the original Jeanne. “Can’t help but think there’s some sort of string attached or three but honestly, I’ll take what I can get.”
Tamamo nodded sympathetically. “True, it is rare for good fortune to not be met with misfortune further down the line,” she sighed as she turned around. “I’ve learned a long time ago to hold onto that good fortune while you can, so that when it turns around, you can at least weather the storm – for better or worse.”
The former doppelganger raised an eyebrow. “Speaking from experience?” she asked sardonically.
Sighing, Tamamo nodded once more. “A tale for another time,” she replied, waving a hand. “Still, what do you plan with this life of yours now?”
Joan was getting annoyed. What the hell was this, an interrogation? “Got a lot of shit to make up for,” she growled. “Hurt and killed a lot of people and was an existence that was only supposed to cause suffering in the first place. Figured working with Chaldea would be the best way to go about it. Now, we done with this?”
As the Lancer looked over, however, her irritation was superseded by confusion. Tamamo had frozen, staring at her with wide eyes. Even her tail and ears had stopped moving. Then she cleared her throat. “Ah, yes, I see,” she murmured as she turned away to hide her face. “It is good to make amends when… when you can. If you can.”
The Lancer frowned. “Lemme guess, you have some personal baggage as well?” Joan asked rhetorically, leaning against the windowsill. “Since I’ve been answering so many of your questions, how about you return the favor – what’s your story?”
Tamamo blinked in surprise. “Oya?” she purred, a forced smile on her face. “It is rude to ask a lady directly for her story, don’t you know, even if you are a lady yourself. Still, you are correct – I do owe you for my rudeness for all my questions earlier. It is a best story told over tea, however, not here. Do forgive my rudeness.”
She turned to leave, then paused. “Though if you are curious,” the Caster added. “You have a habit of reading, yes? Then please, find my legend. As well as ‘Daji’. I believe that shall satiate some of your curiosity in the meantime.” With that, she vanished into a shower of golden dust.
Joan scowled as the Caster left. Nothing but cryptic hints. She was getting really tired of that. Still…
“Tamamo and Daji, huh?” she muttered to herself as she opened her book once more. She committed them to memory. But for now, it was back to reading.
And throughout it all, the moon shone uncaring over the fractured Roman Empire.