“How is he?” Morgana asked worriedly.

“According to the readings, stabilizing,” Roman murmured, looking over his monitor. He had dark bags under his eyes after going through yet another all-nighter. During that time, Da Vinci had been by his side, her usual brilliant smile replaced by a frown of concern. The other staff continued with their duties, monitoring the area but holding whispered conversations among themselves about the Masters Chaldea were currently fielding.

Mash and Morgana had been woken up by loud shouts from the Servants and witnessed helplessly as Ren had collapsed on the ground, convulsing and literally steaming as he vomited blood. Morgana tore off the communicator from Ren and immediately contacted Roman, screaming at the doctor for instructions.

It had been a desperate night as they covered Ren in bucketloads of ice to bring his temperature down, with Archer sketching formalcraft circles under Da Vinci’s instructions to restore some of his prana. Saber’s knowledge of battlefield health made sure he didn’t choke on his own blood or tongue. The newly restored Siegfried kept watch as both Marie and Mozart ran supplies from the leyline back to the cave. It was only after dawn broke that Ren’s breathing finally calmed and his signs were dropping back down to normal.

The catlike Master sighed with relief, then growled with rage. “What was he thinking?!” he snapped, rounding on Ren’s prone form and glaring at him. “Even in the Metaverse, we both agreed Salvation was too costly to use, then he decides to use it in the real world where the consequences are even worse?! Ren, you’re supposed to be reckless, not stupid!”

Ren’s eyelids twitched but otherwise gave no sign of regaining consciousness. Mash, who was kneeling by his head with a soft hand on his forehead, looked up at Morgana. “Please be quieter, Mr. Morgana,” she whispered. “I understand you’re angry with senpai but he’s resting right now. We may speak about it after he wakes.” It wasn’t like she couldn’t understand Morgana. She was well-versed in what magic circuit overuse looked like and Ren had sorely taxed his. They needed to have a long discussion after he woke up.

Siegfried looked utterly ashamed. “I take responsibility for this,” he murmured. “My weakness and wounds had pushed him to this point. I would gladly exchange my life for his for his valiance, yet I can do nothing. None of my Noble Phantasms can accelerate his healing.”

Morgana’s glare shot up to the dragonslayer for a moment, then he sighed, his tiny shoulders sagging. “It’s not your fault, Siegfried,” he replied. “Ren’s always been like this. He can’t stop himself from helping if he sees someone in trouble. And, well, you were certainly troubled.” He still remembered riding around in Ren’s bag as he went from location to location, person to person. All his confidants came from him stepping in to help them in need, and they in turn offered what they could: Knowledge, information, or supplies. Even if they didn’t, he helped how he could. That was simply how he was.

Of course, that wasn’t to say it didn’t backfire. They ended up meeting in the first place because one time Ren tried to help someone, it ended up with a false assault charge slapped on him by a corrupt politician and being sent to Tokyo on probation. Sure, it may have turned out well and they even got their revenge on said politician – Prime Minster hopeful Masayoshi Shido – but it was something that shouldn’t have happened to begin with.

There were consequences, however. There was no way in hell they could move Ren right now, not with him in such a delicate condition. Roman had his eyes glued on his readings in case something changed for the worse. The only consolation they had was that the doppelganger had been soundly beaten yesterday at Lyon, with most of her wyverns wiped out by Archer, Fafnir injured by the same, and was now uncertain what to do with the Phantom Thieves. She had no way of knowing Ren was currently incapacitated either. Regardless of her rage, she would be keeping her distance and licking her wounds.

A small comfort at least.

Still, Morgana was impressed with Ren’s logic. Apparently it took a Saint to exorcise Siegfried’s wounds and heal them, and so he summoned Saint Maria to do so. It was a prudent course of action: They had all felt the presence of Metatron, Satan, and Cu Chulainn like they were the beings themselves. So if that’s the case, why not bring a Saint of their own? Ren’s Wild Card abilities more often than not paid dividends back during their Metaverse adventures, and even here it was working well. Magic circuit overuse notwithstanding.

And he was angry with Ren all over again. What Ren had done was beyond stupid and reckless, at a time when they could afford to be stupid and reckless the least. He was going to tear Ren a new one as soon as he woke up!

It was already morning, though Mash nor Morgana really felt like eating at the moment. The Servants didn’t require food to begin with. The rains from the day before had stopped and the clouds passed, leaving dazzling sunshine that warmed up the air and ground. However, it was quiet: No typical sounds of birds or small animals moving in the undergrowth. A distant wyvern’s roar punctured the calm air periodically, serving as constant reminders that they ultimately weren’t safe.

Saber walked over and sat down in front of Morgana. Her face was stern and grave. “We have many things to discuss,” she stated.

Morgana warily glanced up at Saber, his gaze meeting her sharp green eyes. Hearing a bit of shuffling, he looked over to see Archer leaning up against a wall, a casual position save for the frown he wore. Both Marie and Mozart were nearby as well. While normally they would be rumormongers, they knew the situation was far more deadly than that and would need whatever information could be gleaned. Siegfried and Jeanne stood guard outside but were clearly within earshot. Mash only glanced back and forth between the Servants all joining the discussion but otherwise said nothing.

“There is absolutely no doubt that you and Ren are capable Masters, and we thank you for the kindness you’ve shown us,” Saber began. “However, it has been clear since our inception that both of you have been keeping secrets. That in of itself isn’t unusual. Everyone has their secrets after all, especially Servants. However, you have displayed magecraft that heretofore was completely unknown to everyone and could match Servants. You entered a reality marble and brought us with you, a feat that should be utterly impossible. And within that reality marble, you were able to match a Servant in combat.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Not to mention, summoning aspects of angels, demons, saints, and even Servants with that magecraft as well,” she continued. “None of that is normal. Even by the standards of our time, your powers would’ve easily made you a considerable threat to many of my knights.” Saber glanced over at the unconscious Ren. “The both of you have proven yourself to be valiant and noble beyond any question,” she said, her tone softening a bit as she turned back to Morgana. “However, the time for secrets is quickly passing. We need a full measure of yours and Ren’s capabilities so we may adapt and fight however necessary. Your powers may be a massive boon, but if our enemies can take better advantage of it before we can, then it might spell the failure of us all.”

She drew herself up. “I ask that your trust us, Master Morgana,” she finished. “We are your Servants, dedicated to the preservation of humanity, for good or ill. Trust us with the information, just as we trust you to support us.”

Morgana stayed silent as he pondered Saber’s words. He glanced over to Mash. “Is the communicator off?” he asked.

Mash blinked, then nodded. “Er, yes, Mr. Morgana,” she replied, speaking softly so she wouldn’t wake Ren up prematurely. “The doctor said he will contact us if anything changes with Ren.”

The catlike Master nodded. He looked back at the gathering of Servants who were waiting expectantly. “Two conditions:” Morgana declared. “First, I can’t tell you absolutely everything, but I’ll explain what I can. And two, I want absolutely no word of this getting back to others. We might tell Roman and Da Vinci but leave that to us. We don’t this information falling into the wrong hands.”

The Servants all glanced at each other, then they all nodded. Morgana considered his audience. Artoria, Archer, Siegfried, Jeanne, Marie, Mozart, and Mash. They were an honorable group at least and would without a doubt honor the agreement.

He took a deep breath to calm himself, then he began to talk about the past year.

Hours later, the Servants were left with many thoughts.

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

Archer stood silently at the edge of the forest, away from the others. He had given the pretext that he was standing watch for anyone coming their way, but his true intention was clear to everyone: So he could be alone for a while. An Archer’s eyes were far sharper than a regular human’s regardless. Miles in the distance, he could see French soldiers moving about the ruined city of Lyon, cleaning up zombies and scouring the place. It seemed they hadn’t been tracked yet and couldn’t afford to.

The conversation with Morgana had been… mind-boggling, to say the least. Both him and Ren could enter areas on the cognitive plane, a realm that was theoretically impossible for most humans to achieve. It would be akin to breaching the ‘Reverse Side of the World’. However, they couldn’t enter freely. Conditions had to be met. Specifically, they could only enter the plane of someone who had a ‘Palace’, as Morgana called them. A mental construct that could be formed from a distorted desire and perspective of the world.

And by that definition, Archer’s reality marble was a Palace. Furthermore, Morgana pointed out his own Palace was extraordinarily unusual. Most people had Palaces that encompassed a building, maybe even a city at most. They had never seen one that encompassed the entire world.

He could only smile bitterly. A mental image born from a twisted desire, and his was so twisted it affected the entire world instead of something smaller like just a building. Unlimited Blade Works was undoubtedly the core of who he was. All the blades within the world were copies, symbolizing his desire to be a hero like he heard and read about. The barren landscape and hazy skies with the ponderous gears, all reflecting his despair of walking that path to the very end with nothing to show for it. Even after all this time, all he had learned and been through, Unlimited Blade Works was still there. It may have changed a bit, but it was still a fundamental part of who he was. He could – and would – never be rid of it.

There was also the revelation that they could change hearts. By stealing something called a Treasure – something that defined that person’s distortion – they could cause a cognitive shift in the person, removing the distorted desire and perspective, and allowing everything it was holding up to come crashing down on the victim. It was a rather dark method of enacting one’s goals, though when Morgana had been confronted with that, he bristled and snapped they only used it on criminals that normally would be untouchable.

His steel-grey eyes turned up to the sky. If they had existed then, could they have changed him? Could they have removed those twisted desires: to help everyone, to be a hero? Could they possibly have saved him from this fate? Of having to kill over and over and over again as a counter guardian? Was it possible he could’ve just been like everyone else and manage to live ultimately for himself, with a chance of actually finding his own happiness?

Again, he could only smile bitterly. A farfetched idea. Shirou Emiya was always a fool to the last, after all.

“Archer.”

The red-mantled hero glanced back, seeing Saber approaching him. He looked back over at the city. “Nothing to report, Saber,” he stated calmly as if commenting about the weather. “Seems like the French contingent we saw yesterday are still at Lyon cleaning up. I saw Gilles de Rais running around earlier. Doesn’t seem like they’re in any state to follow us though – they’ll have their hands full just trying to secure the location.”

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

“That’s good to hear,” Saber murmured distractedly. She walked up to stand beside him. Her eyes weren’t nearly as good as an Archer class’s, but that wasn’t the point. “Archer… what is your true name?” she asked.

He stiffened. Forcing a sardonic smile on his face, he shrugged. “Come now, Saber, you aren’t an idiot,” Archer snorted. “We’re on a battlefield right now, even if it’s just a lull as our Master recovers. Who knows if the enemy has some other capabilities of listening in on us? They do have a spy in their ranks, after all.”

“That’s not why I’m asking and you know it,” Artoria snapped, an edge creeping into her voice. “I only have some recollections from that Fifth Holy Grail War – not enough for a complete picture, just enough to know who or what was there. My Master - and your presence.” She looked over at him. Archer didn’t meet her eyes, still staring ahead. “Archer… Shirou. What happened to you?” she asked softly. “With your drive, I expected to meet you again sooner or later, perhaps in the fields of Avalon. Not like this.”

Archer was silent for a moment. “Is that what he promised you?” he whispered. Another sardonic smile spread across his lips, but this one tinged in sadness. “I discarded my name long ago, to fulfill ideals that could never be reached. It was a foolish dream. A beautiful one no doubt, but foolish nevertheless. In the end, I had no one by my side as I followed the road to being a hero. Without any attachments, I dedicated my soul to what I thought would be a way to save people: to the spirit of Alaya.”

Artoria’s eyes widened, immediately knowing the implications. Archer continued. “In the end, it was for nothing,” he muttered. “There was no end to that path. Humanity constantly suffered, and I was constantly called upon to end the cause of that suffering. Sometimes it was from much greater threats, but most of the time it was from other humans. Over and over, I killed and kept killing. In the end, all I could see for the rest of eternity was Hell.”

The King of Knights was silent as she pondered the information. “And when you saw yourself once more, what did you do?” she quietly asked, dreading the answer.

Another bitter smile. “What a desperate fool would try to do,” he replied. “I tried to break and kill him. It would’ve been a mercy for him anyway. It would’ve spared him from that Hell. But if you knew him as well as I did, you can guess what happened: He was far too stubborn. He reminded me that even though the dream was flawed, it was beautiful nevertheless. But more importantly, he had something else I didn’t have: Allies and friends by his side.”

His smile became softer. “With Rin by his side, as well as Sakura, he wasn’t going to put a toe out of line, or they’d drag him out of the grave just to kill him themselves. No, they would make sure in the end, he had something to come back to. He would never turn out like me. Not that one.”

They stood in silence, both pondering their words, their decisions, and the uniting thread between the two of them. “And what of you?” Artoria asked. “If your dream and your desires have caused you that much pain… will you ask our Masters to remove them from you?”

Archer was silent. He didn’t have an answer for her, and she knew it.

“I do not doubt your path led you to many hardships you never should’ve had to face,” she murmured. “Nor will I say I approve of continuously sacrificing yourself for others until there is nothing left.” She remembered faintly of Mordred’s face, twisted in hatred as she stabbed them with Rhongomyniad, and the maddened Lancelot howling amidst the flames.

“But your dreams have at the least carried you far,” she continued. “Do you mean to tell me there was nothing worth it on that path? The end may have been fruitless, but what of the journey itself? Was that all for nothing?”

He thought back. Before he became a counter guardian, a Servant, he had traveled all over the world, helping whoever and however he could. He never asked for anything in return for his labors – his only payment had been seeing the happiness of those around him, unable to feel happiness for himself. He supported and helped who he could, and even when they betrayed him in the end because they couldn’t understand him, he didn’t curse or hate them. He simply accepted it in the end.

“I once wished to use the Grail to go back and change the past so I never became king.”

That statement immediately drew Archer’s attention. The King of Knight’s eyes were misted over as she recollected her own memories. “I had sought to make myself as perfect a monarch as I could, making judgements and decisions for the benefit of my people. Yet in the end, Camelot still fell regardless due to my mistakes.” She smiled sadly. “But I learned that trying to change the past is ultimately selfish of me and would invalidate all that I’ve worked for, and all the works of my knights. For good or ill, it is part of who I am. So I stand resolute now, hoping to create a better future.”

She glanced over at Archer. “Your regrets are justified, and I know better than most what you are trying to accomplish. If having your heart changed truly is what you desire, I shall assist you and my Masters in doing so. However, I ask that you ponder those questions and allow me to hear your answer. Please, do me this one favor, Shirou.”

Archer opened his mouth to answer but before he could, Artoria had already turned around and quietly walked back into the forest. The only thing left he had for company were his own overwhelming thoughts.

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

Jeanne sat silently at a campfire, staring into the flames. She was only a small distance away from the cave where Ren currently rested, with Morgana keeping an unceasing vigil on his condition. Siegfried was currently standing guard, chatting with Mozart at the mouth of the cave. Archer was apparently keeping watch while Mash and Saber were patrolling the forest. Theoretically, she was supposed to keep watch as well, but her mind had been distracted heavily as of late. Besides, if there was anything that was a threat, someone would’ve noticed and reported it already.

Morgana had explained that those angels and demons that Ren was summoning were called ‘Personas’. It wasn’t that he was calling forth the Devil or angels literally. Rather, they were considered ‘cognitive’ beings. In layman’s terms, they were beings that existed in peoples’ minds. And because people of this era had the Devil or angels or saints in their mind, this granted Ren the ability to draw upon that image and bring them into the real world. In short, they were what they were because everyone believed that was what they are.

She had to admittedly ask multiple times for clarification – she didn’t receive much of a proper schooling – but Morgana had patiently explained it, with Archer surprisingly supplementing him in turn. But the long and short of it was that they weren’t ‘real’. They felt real because people believed they were real.

So why didn’t she feel at ease?

A movement to her side caught her eye. Glancing over, she saw Marie smiling, offering her a can. “A beverage that was sent to our Masters,” she explained brightly. “I’ve already asked for permission from monsieur Morgana. It’s supposed to energize regular people. Perhaps it might help for Servants?”

The Saint blinked in surprise, then smiled gratefully as she took the can. “My thanks,” she said. Looking curiously at the top, she noticed no clear openings, just a small ring-like protrusion that was mounted at the top. “Do… do you know how to open this?” she asked demurely.

Marie giggled. “Ah, non, I’m afraid not,” she admittedly easily. “But there’s enjoyment to figuring it out! Like solving a puzzle! Let’s see here…” The queen grabbed holding of the ring between her dainty fingers and began moving and levering it about, shaking and moving it in an attempt to cut the opening.

Then she pulled a little harder and the ring pushed the opening through – resulting in a fountain of soda that blasted her face. Marie squeaked with surprise as she jerked the can away from her far too late. Meanwhile, Jeanne squawked and fell backwards with shock. A few moments later, the spray settled down into an overflowing foam over her can and hand.

The two Frenchwomen stared at the can in shock, then at each other. Slowly, smiles cracked on both of their faces and they both fell into laughing. Jeanne could feel a small weight on her heart fall off. There were still many things to consider, but she hadn’t realized a small moment of levity like this was what she desperately needed the most. Not until she had it anyway. She moved to sit properly beside Marie was once as Marie licked some of the green liquid off the can.

“Tres bien!” she exclaimed. “It’s so sweet and tangy, with little bubbles!” She began drinking with gusto. Chuckling, Jeanne imitated with Marie did – holding the can away for safety – and pulled at the ring. There was a his and a pop, and it opened without any further hassle. Blinking in surprise, she brought the beverage to her lips and took a quiet sip. Her eyes immediately widened at the flavor as she began gulping it down. Marie hadn’t exaggerated in the slightest. It was indeed a delectable drink, far better than the beers and alcohols her country wrought.

Silently gulping down their drinks, they put down their cans with a sigh of satisfaction. Then Marie let out a burp, causing her to cover her lips in surprise. Jeanne blinked, then felt that sensation welling up from her gut as well and before she could stop herself, let out a surprising belch as well before also covering her own mouth. They both stared at each other for a second, then fell to laughing once more. Another small weight lifted off the saint’s heart.

Once they managed to calm down a bit, they set down their (now-empty) cans and stared into the fire. The only sound came from the crackling of sticks lit aflame. The silence between them was comfortable, but it was getting heavy regardless.

“What are you thinking about?” Marie inquired gently.

Jeanne sighed quietly. “Much,” she answered honestly. “My doppelganger has been using dragons and Servants to raze my home and slaughter my people. The Master of Chaldea uses powers that many would call heretical, even entering a reality marble and fighting a Servant directly. And just last night, he had summoned Saint Maria – the Virgin Mary herself – to exorcise Siegfried’s wounds and heal him. It is no less than a divine miracle that could allow for that.”

She hugged her knees close to herself. “In my life, I believed God watched over my and guided me,” she murmured. “Throughout all my battles, I put my faith in Him to see my men and I through. Even after I was condemned at my trial and burned at the stake, I still had faith in Him, that it was all His plan. It mattered little what happened to me, but He would see my people through. And yet…” She paused.

Marie said nothing, patiently waiting for Jeanne to continue. The saint hugged her knees closer. “To see someone bring forth such beings with so much ease disturbs me,” she admitted. “They are the power of ‘thought’ and ‘belief’ manifested. In that regard, they’re much like Servants. We hold power because people know of us and our power, and that grants us strength in turn. On one hand, I should be glad that they’re so powerful, both because it’s a considerable boon we have and it means that belief in our Lord and fear of the Devil are strong. On the other... I do not know whether to judge them as false idols or ‘aspects’ of Him. And what of the one who brings them all to bear, Ren? What would that make him in the end?”

Her shoulders sagged. “I do not believe he is a bad person,” she murmured. “One who would risk themselves to aid their Servants in the manner he has cannot be. The Lord has been silent in His judgement towards him. I’m unsure what to do.”

The French queen blinked at the Saint’s confession, reached over… and lightly smacked her on the head. Jeanne flinched, holding the spot where she was hit. “M-Marie?” she stammered.

Marie huffed. “Honestly, ma cherie, you are overthinking this far too much,” she retorted. “You stated that, by your judgement, he’s not a bad person, correct?” Jeanne hesitatingly nodded. “Does he himself seemingly worship the beings he brings out?” The saint shook her head. “Has he used them to play himself up as God or a Devil or anything of the sort?” Well besides scaring the living daylights out of her doppelganger, but she recognized that it was more playing psychological tactics than genuinely believing he was one. Again, she shook her head.

Nodding in satisfaction, Marie smiled. “Well, if that’s the case, then I do not see what the problem is,” she concluded. “And besides, the Lord has entrusted you with His will, non? Then that would mean He trusts you that what decision you make will be His decision too. So, if that is the case, then what decision you make in regards to Ren, most likely He will accept as well.”

Jeanne made a panicked noise. “I d-do not presume to know His will or His works,” she squeaked. “I simply work by His will, no less but certainly no more!”

“Yes, but that requires you to be able to work on your own initiative.” Marie didn’t relent. “He has appointed you for His will and mission, because He trusts you to make the right decisions. Therefore, if you believe Ren to be just and an able ally, then I’ve no doubt that He believes so as well.” She flashed a wry smile. “After all, Ren can seemingly work miracles – perhaps he was sent to us by His will?”

The saint opened her mouth, then closed it. She turned to stare back at the fire to contemplate Marie’s words. What Ren did for Siegfried was without a doubt considered a miracle. Whether the familiars he summoned the actual beings or mental facsimiles was at this point irrelevant. They were powerful and held the aura of the beings themselves. She considered back to Ren’s actions. No matter who or what he summoned, he had always been steadfast in his goals to defend humanity and her country. He had a strange sort of confidence with him, yet never felt like he placed himself above anyone else save his enemies. This wasn’t an issue that would be close to resolving anytime soon.

She was stirred out of her thoughts as Marie sidled over closer to her, gently resting her head on Jeanne’s shoulder with a warm smile. “Do not fret, ma cherie,” she murmured. “Even in my time, you stood as an inspiration to us all. I have no doubt that what you decide what is right. Whether by His will, or your own.”

Jeanne could only blink in surprise, a faint blush creeping into her face as her mouth opened, trying to find words to respond to Marie’s compliment and faith in her. Giving up, she sighed quietly as she looked up through the leaves of the forest. The sun was shining through the canopy, filtering down through the leaves and illuminating the forest in a display of light and shadow. The blue sky past the treetops was cloudless compared to the soaking weather the day prior. She quietly closed her eyes as she offered up a pray.

‘O Lord, please guide me through these troubled times, and may my heart and judgement be true…”