Disclaimer : I do not own Danmachi or anything by Type Moon. They belong to their respective creators who are awesome people. I am just an Oliver Twist, looking in through the glass windows, hoping for more soup. Mmmm, soup.

Please read the A/N at the end.

~oO No Gods, No Masters Oo~

"Idiot! Idiot, idiot, idiot!" Archer lamented, and rightfully so.

He had not planned to reveal so much of his past, or to speak at all...but once he started speaking, he found that he could not stop. Archer was not a man of few words by nature, but instead by design, after having learnt the lesson from the troubles that his big mouth got him into.

At least he used to be worse as a kid.

Archer took solace in that little fact.

Hindsight and recriminations aside, Archer found himself in a sticky situation. He had no money, no master, no place to stay, no guild to belong to or anything really, to his name in this new world. The only thing he wasn't worried about, was food...and that was solely because of his confidence in his cooking skills. If that woman was good for her word, Archer would have his meals taken care of for a week. Seven days should be enough to find some sort of steady work, something that he could do when he wasn't in the dungeon, hunting down monsters.

Surely in a world without machines, there must be someone looking for help with menial labor! Right?

Wrong.

Coming in at past the lunch hour, Archer was a bit too late for anyone to need his help. The people were used to waking up early and working hard, and most of the shops in the marketplace had been open since dawn. He wandered around aimlessly still. While no one might have needed his help, it was always good to familiarize himself with the local area.

Back-alleys, shortcuts, hidden paths, nooks and crannies. All useful things that one must know in a new city. For making a quick getaway, if nothing else.

For the most part, it was a run of the mill, standard metropolis. Sure, the buildings were smaller than what he was used to...and perhaps there weren't as many fast food shops or entertainments corners, but it had all the trappings that one would expect. A continuous bustle of the milling masses. Trade and commerce going on at a brisk pace. The rich possessing immense privilege and the poor barely making ends meet.

What did surprise him, was the harmony.

Humans weren't the only creatures in existence here. There were other races, like those with feline features, canine features...and even the stereotypical races like Elves and Hobbits. Yet, despite all those differences, the people were co-existing in relative peace.

For a Guardian of the Counter Force like him, this was positively a miracle. All too often, he would be sent out to clean up after the consequences of petty things that humans divided themselves with. Race, Color of Skin, even Gender...all these issues had caused catastrophes. So to see humans not just co-existing with each other, but also with entirely different races...that warmed his heart.

But that did beg the question, a question that he knew he would need to find answers for, and soon.

In such a peaceful world, without an Grail War going on...why was he summoned?

~~oOOo~~

Once upon a time, long ago, Nuada had been King of the Tuatha Dé Danann, back when they were still more heroes than legends and myths. He had been a good king, a benevolent king to his people, but eventually he too had come into conflict. Their rivals had been the Firbolgs, and the fight for dominance had been bitter indeed.

In the battle of Mag Tuired, Nuada had lost his arm against the champion of the Firbolgs.

A King who is not whole, is no King...Nuada's people had believed, and after losing his arm, he had lost his Kingship as well, and had been cast aside to roam as a wanderer.

Unfortunately, his replacement, King Bres, was a tyrant. In the next seven years that followed, the Tuatha Dé Danann suffered from injustice and indignities that were inflicted upon them by their King. So, they called out once more to Nuada, who chose to aid his people...those same people who had cast him aside and caused him so much hardship.

With help of the physician : Dian Cecht, Nuada had had a new arm made of silver crafted, making him whole once more.

That day onwards, he was known as Nuada Airgetlam. Nuada of the Silver Hand.

He was the man that Miach had looked up to, when he had been little more than a child, learning the secrets of healing at his father's knee. So, when the time came to aid Nuada, Miach had unhesitatingly cast a magic that grew flesh on his Silver Arm. It was unprecedented and a breakthrough in healing magic. Yet, instead of being pleased, Dian Cecht had flown into a jealous, manic rage...and in that same madness, had killed Miach. His own son.

A long time had passed since those events, and once they had ascended to godhood, Miach had been resurrected, and had held no grudge against his father. Well, not too much anyway, and if Miach entertained fantasies of ravens of The Morrígan pecking out his father's eyes, that was no one's business but his own. Despite the bad blood, they were coldly polite to each other when they were in heaven, and now, the descent to the lower world had led to an interesting development. Something that hadn't happened in millenia. They had become business rivals.

These new and unusual experiences were probably why gods descended into the lower world in the first place.

Many a time had he contemplated exacting his vengeance after the latest bout of frustration, but that was short-lived. Living for revenge was simply not in his nature. He was a healer. He understood very well that while blades and bows might be the agents of physical pain, it was the darkness in men's hearts that was true cause behind suffering.

For years, that detente had continued, till the matter of yet another Silver Hand came up. It seemed that Destiny wasn't done playing with Miach just yet.

His familia had been small, but modestly prosperous, and they had wanted for nothing. Till the day that Miach learnt that one of his children, Naaza Erisuis, had been grievously wounded in the dungeon.

He remembered being numb, he remembered being shocked. He remembered feeling the urge to rush to the dungeon, regardless of the consequences, before reason had set in.

Sometimes, Miach really hated his sense of reason.

Still, Naaza's injuries were grievous and extensive, and despite the best efforts that he had extended, he was not able to save her right arm. It had to be amputated. If the accident that she had faced was bad, the mental damage it had inflicted on her psyche was worse. From a cheerful, excitable Chienthrope, Naaza had become cynical, depressed and withdrawn almost overnight.

She was now afraid. Afraid of dungeons, afraid of monsters, afraid of her own shadow. And resentful of those stronger than her who had not come to her aid in time.

Her lost arm, a constant reminder of loss.

Once more, he saw the darkness gather within her heart, as it had in his Idol, his Hero of old.

It was perhaps in his memory that Miach had made his choice.

Swallowing his pride, he had bowed to his father and begged him, pleaded with him to craft a new arm for his child.

After hours of watching his hated son struggle, Dian Cecht had relented and agreed to heed to his request. At a huge cost, of course.

It had bankrupted Miach's familia, and one by one, all his children had left. But Naaza now smiled, and for Miach, that was enough.

It was for that very reason that he always tried to help those in need. He understood very well the power that a kind gesture possessed...and though his godly power was suppressed, this was one strength that could never be taken away from him. Just a few days ago, he had found himself drawn to a small white haired boy, the sole familia member of Hestia, a goddess in unfortunate conditions, much like himself. He couldn't do much, but he could make the boy's day brighter. The look on his face when gifted with small gifts of healing potions, or a little snack (a fresh fruit, of course. Far healthier than some greasy, oily concoction)...it made Miach smile.

He supposed that he had gotten into the habit of taking little lost strays under his care.

So when he saw that young man wandering around aimlessly, he couldn't help but speak up.

~~oOOo~~

The smell was the first thing that Archer noticed. No, it wasn't a stink, on the contrary the smell was fairly floral, like a hundred different herbs and spices stacked in a single room. He turned his nose to follow the scent and was met with the sight of a slender young man waving him over, smiling.

As a general rule, Archer was wary of people who smiled. They were either naive idiots, or they were secretly psychopaths, but he wasn't exactly flush full of options.

And besides, what did he have to lose?

"Hello there, young man" the slender youth in the long robes hollered. Where did that kid get off on calling him 'young man' anyway? "I have a job for you if you want it."

Archer was immediately suspicious.

"How do you know that I am looking for something to do?" he asked, his brow furrowing.

The man laughed pleasantly, "It's the middle of the afternoon, my friend. If you had work to do, you would be doing it, instead of wandering around."

Ouch. Well, he wasn't wrong.

"Yes, well...you are wandering around too." Archer said.

The man smiled in amusement and held up the wrapped packages that he was carrying. "My assistant is watching the shop while I did the grocery shopping. I could do with a bit of help though, unless of course you are busy. In which case, I apologize."

Ah, what the hell. In the end, the idea of helping someone was too strong to resist.

"No, it's fine, I can help. What do you want me to do?"

"As you can see, my hands are full and I still have things to do. I would appreciate if you could lend me a hand with this."

After a long moment, Archer reached forward and grabbed a couple of bags off the man, sealing their compact.

The man, for his part, seemed genuinely relieved. "That's so much better now, thank you!" he said emphatically, "I'm afraid I didn't get your name. I am Miach, and you are?"

Still smarting from the 'Mr Shirou-Mr Emiya' debacle from earlier, Archer decided to play it straight this time. "Just call me Emiya. I'm new to Orario, so I will be in your care while you continue your shopping."

Miach chuckled and shook his head, "Do not fear. I just have to buy some fruits and vegetables. The only task after that would be crafting some medicines for an order, but that shouldn't require your assistance."

"Medicines? Are you a doct-Healer?" Archer asked. Doctors were a profession that he could truly respect. While there were bad eggs a-plenty in their ranks too, a large majority were simply good people trying to heal the world, one festering sore at a time.

As someone who too judiciously removed festering sores from society, Archer could empathize. He was often envious of the difference they could make without causing further harm in the world around them. To him, the Healing arts and doctors represented another facet of his ideal of 'saving everyone'. In the kaleidoscope of broken reflections, Archer often wished that the face that stared back at him from the mirror was that of a doctor, and not a murderer. But things were as they would, and while they plied their trade, and he plied his. Steel was his body, and fire his blood.

"Yes, I am." Miach answered with a gentle smile, "Right down the street is my shop, the Blue Pharmacy. Do visit us there sometime." He elaborates, gesturing towards the long street lined with stalls and shops.

"I will." Archer promised. After all, making a promise cost nothing and reassured whoever you were making a promise to.

"Excellent!" the man exclaimed, already striding purposefully ahead, heading to the nearest fruit-seller. As he made his purchases, their polite exchange continued. "Are you an adventurer as well?"

"Yes, just registered with Eina and everything."

"That's nice." He said absent-mindedly, following it up with a logical question, "Which familia do you belong to?" Archer stiffened, unsure of what to say. For a moment, he debated taking the aid of a falsehood and leading the man astray...till he realized that his profile was open for public viewing...and either Eina or Loki or someone else would leak his status to the general populace. And the only thing worse than getting caught red-handed in truth...was getting caught red-handed in a lie.

"I am not affiliated with any god, " he said with a little heat that surprised even him, "I trust in the strength of my arms and my skills than on the blessing of a flighty being who looks upon my existence solely for the amusement it provides him."

"Ah." Miach says eloquently, "I can understand the disdain, though I don't share in it myself. That said, I can speak from personal experience that some are indeed as you describe. Selfish, Vainglorious, Covetous. Definitely not pleasant to be around."

"I do hope you will not tar us all with the same feather though. That would be most unfortunate."

"Of course not, I only jud-"

Wait a minute.

It took Archer a second to work out what Miach had revealed, but he got there, eventually. He was a warrior, not a thinker. Wordplay and speaking in flowery words that were meant to entangle had been Rin's domain usually, than his.

"You...You are a God as well?"

"Yes, I just said that, didn't I?" Miach replies, just as serene, holding up a ripe peach for inspection. The corner of his lips turned down as he shook his head and replaced it back on the pile, "Too ripe." he said in lieu of an explanation to the uncaring vendor, who simply waved him on.

"You don't simply just say that you are a God!" Archer protested, "There should be something accompanying this, no? Some fanfare, some crackling thunder, a cavalcade of cherubs in diapers singing psalms! Something! "

"Really?" Miach comments dubiously. "Something to keep in mind for later, I suppose. It all sounds something my father would enjoy. Certainly not my thing."

"And really? Cherubs in Diapers? Do you think that the only thing that Gods desire above all are young childre-" he stopped talking as he looked askance at Archer's growing grin. "Oh, how droll. That's certainly a jibe that I have never heard." He says dryly, a wry smile dawning on his serene face, giving him a sharp, intelligent air.

"A God who can take a joke? Color me surprised." Archer muttered, before clearing his throat pointedly, "Before anything else, I must ask, do you have any plans or designs to make me join your familia, or send me on endless quests that are hazardous to my general well-being, or make me perform some impossible labor to entrap me?"

"...What?" Miach asked, non-plussed, "my friend, you have some very strange misconceptions about Gods, I must say. Perhaps you need more help than I had previously thought."

Miach had been right. Archer had been resorting to what he knew of gods and powerful beings back from his own world. Not for the first time, he had been forced to accept that this was not his world. This was something else, something new. That sunny afternoon, spent in leisurely shopping for fruits, vegetables and herbs of all varieties, Archer finally began to develop a clearer picture of the new circumstances that he found himself in.

That didn't stop him from letting his displeasure known though.

"You know something Miach, you are far more insidious than you let on." Archer commented, speaking out from behind the veritable pile of paper bags.

"Oh? Whatever gave you that idea?" The Irish God commented with a small laugh, looking all too pleased with himself.

"You tricked a poor lost lamb and made him into your personal mule!" Archer snarked, shifting the heavy bags from one hand to another, tucking them in more comfortably.

In response, Miach merely shook his head, leading them finally into his erstwhile home, the Blue Pharmacy. It was a cheerful little place, with a brightly painted sign, and the pleasant floral smell of the numerous herbs felt very inviting to the senses. It was so patently like his new godly friend, that Archer couldn't help but grin, his irritation draining away.

"Come, my friend, and be welcome at my humble abode." Miach said, as he opened the wooden door, which was accompanied by the tinkling of little bells.

With a grateful sigh, Archer dropped the bags of groceries and supplies on the countertop, considering his task well and truly done. Taking advantage of the little respite, he took a look around.

Stocked from wall to wall were innumerable flasks and goblets and vials, each filled with a liquid of some description. Some were brightly coloured in the shades of garnet, emerald and turquoise, gleaming in the light of the sun. Still others were indistinguishable from water at first glance, but were oddly viscous and gelatinous when observed more closely. A wooden display case sat in front of an ancient looking Tradesman's Till, where an open accounts book lay, likely to tally the daily sales.

All in all, it seemed like a medieval apothecary...something that matched the time period that this new world was presumably in.

"Lord Miach, is that you?" a feminine voice said from within the depths of the pharmacy, "I was expecting you far earlier. What took you so long?"

"Ah, Naaza, yes it's me. I have brought a guest along as well!" The medicine god cheerfully hollers back, already busying himself in emptying the bags and sorting their contents out.

"I hope for your sake that he is sick, or has some broken bones, my Lord. I know you like that Bell kid, but we cannot afford more freeloaders on our expenses!" the unknown woman lamented.

Miach laughed, looking oddly nervous, much to Archer's glee. Truth be told, he was just happy that it wasn't him getting bossed around this time. After all, Schadenfreude was a guilty pleasure that Archer rarely had the opportunity to enjoy.

Miach was going to be on his own. Archer considered that as sufficient payback.

"That was not an answer, Lord Mi-" the woman's voice drew nearer before stopping on taking sight of Archer. For his part, Archer couldn't help but stare. A pair of entrancing purple eyes were widened in surprise, meeting his own. Long brown hair fell in waves, framing a pretty face.

And a pair of floppy dog ears.

And a tail.

"This one's new." the odd dog-woman commented, "He does look as scruffy as Bell...same hair color too. Are you his older brother or something, come to take the kid back?"

"No no, this is the guest I was speaking of!" Miach interjected before a little comedy of errors would occur. If he had learnt something about Archer after spending the afternoon in his company, it was that the young man was very very irritable, and had a sharp tongue to match.

"Naaza, this is Shirou Emiya, alias, Archer." He introduced swiftly, "and Archer, this is my Childe, Naaza Erisuis. The only member of my Familia."

While Miach remained as light of heart as he was while introducing, Archer noticed Naaza's ears droop a little, her eyes dimming.

There was a story there, Archer knew, but it was not his place to ask.

"Er...Nice to meet you." He replied politely, "Please, I am not here to impose on your hospitality. I am new to the city, and Miach here took it upon himself to help me familiarize myself."

At this explanation, Naaza shook her head in exasperation at her Lord finding yet another stray to dote over. She had tried so many times to make him more worldly, more aware of the duplicity and greed of people...especially those with power. But to no avail. He was simply content in helping wherever he could. He really did have a saving-people thing.

A good amount of guilt colored those thoughts too, as Naaza's warm hand touched her cold silver prosthetic reflexively. If Miach hadn't been the way he was, she would have been relegated to a life of an infirm, useless and a drain on resources. But he had stood up for her. He had saved her. Even though it had cost him his entire familia to do so.

That guilt was the reason she never pushed overmuch whenever he found the latest charity-case to help.

Shaking these thoughts off her conscience, Naaza turned to Miach, "Speaking of Bell, Lady Hestia had been to visit. She required a vial of Medium Grade Healing Potion. It seems that young Bell bit off more than he could chew. She didn't have any money to pay with, as usual." She finished a little sourly.

Miach kept his serene expression as he asked, "How long ago was this? Was it urgent?"

"I don't think so. She was...bouncing...all over the place, in a manner most unbefitting a Goddess. She seemed pleased at Bell's progress than worried about his injuries." Naaza shrugged, "I've already made the potion. It's there under the counter."

She coughed slightly and looked away from Miach's scrutiny as he smiled knowingly at her, "I was simply being prudent! I know you would have given away a potion anyway!"

"Thank you Naaza. You are an immense help."

Throughout this little conversation, Archer did his best to not butt in with his opinions...if for the sole reason that he didn't know who this Bell person was, nor how the Goddess Hestia was in person. The scant myths that he remembered of her told the tale of a virgin goddess, demure and caring and modest. One who devoted herself to maintaining the peace and tranquility of the hearth and home. A massive undertaking, considering the often violent and hotheaded pantheon of the Greeks.

Even outside of that, Family was a touchy subject for Archer. For obvious reasons.

All in all, it just made him rather leery of Hestia, as well as a certain curiosity to meet the Goddess.

His reverie was interrupted when Naaza stomped off, her socks-clad feet thumping with a muted sound on the wooden floorboards. Archer found his gaze drawn to the fluffy tail that was swishing agitatedly. He hurriedly disabused himself from further study. As interesting as the presence of tails on human bodies was, it wouldn't do to stare at the admittedly svelte figure of his new acquaintance's childe.

Besides, that unknown cat-girl's hiss and her murderous glare was still fresh in his mind. He wasn't going to make the same mistake again. Why repeat mistakes when there are a dozen new ones to make?

After saying their goodbyes, and assuring Naaza that Archer was not going to be yet another constant drain on the Pharmacy's finances, the two headed towards an old abandoned church that Bell and Hestia called their home.

On his part, Archer wondered why he was accompanying Miach still, but he figured that he was the best source of information about this world yet. Eina was bossy and mostly concerned with keeping adventurers alive than about educating them. Less said about Loki the better. The girls of that little pub seemed nice, but he wasn't sure if he should push his luck there, so soon after challenging the owner.

No, Miach was his best bet for gaining a greater understanding of this new world. He was admittedly curious to better understand the pleasant God, an oxymoron if Archer had ever heard one.

Before that though, one burning question still rankled. To that end, Archer began to speak.

"So," Archer said, "Naaza seems nice…." as his voice trailed off, unsure of the best way to phrase his question.

Understanding his plight, Miach simply rolled his eyes and answered, "Just stop. I know you are wondering what her species is, correct?" At Archer's disgruntled nod, he continued, "She's a Chienthrope. A sub-species of other such humans with canine features."

"A Chienthrope, huh." Archer said, experimentally speaking the word aloud, "Is there a reason for such...diversity...in humanoids? I swear I saw a big guy with boar ears earlier too."

Miach mused thoughtfully before he answered. "I am not sure. For me, this is the way it has always been. Was this not the way where you are from? You must have been from a very insulated village then."

"Yeah, yeah…" Archer swiftly lied, glad of the opportunity to further build his fake backstory "I hate to admit it, but my home was rather xenophobic towards non-humans."

Miach looked up sharply at that, "They aren't non-humans. They are just as human as you or I. Just because they have different features, does not mean that they aren't people." He rebuked.

Archer held his hands up in a conciliatory manner,"I am not saying that they aren't. I am just telling you what my village was like."

The medicine god nodded at that. After all, Archer had been curious and not censorious. He couldn't help the attitude of the village he grew up in. "I understand. Sorry if that was a little abrupt. This is something that I have been increasingly worried about. Especially in the outer cities and villages, there's a disturbing amount of dislike and disdain towards those who are different. Here, in Orario, it's not prevalent or even noticeable...but if you know where to look, it's there." He lamented.

"That's the very nature of being sentient," Archer philosophically mused, "you fear the unknown, the different, the strange. Speaking of strange though, do you not think that you smile too much?" Archer said bluntly.

"Being sentient is to fear the unknown? Yes, I can see why you might think that. Still, thinking that a smile is strange? You really need to lighten up more, Archer."

"I do smile, thank you very much." the man in question groused, unsmiling, "but there's a difference between an occasional smile and grinning constantly like a loon."

Miach chuckled ruefully at that.

"I suppose you are correct. My good for nothing Father didn't do much by way of parenting, but something that he said stuck with me. He said, son, a real man smiles in the face of trouble. Gathers strength from weakness and grows brave by self-reflection. I used to think he was full of shit, pardon my language."

"Then, one day, I saw my childhood hero, the man that I looked up to, be permanently disfigured and deposed from his throne. I cried and I was just one of many. But that man did not. He smiled. He accepted the misfortune that had come his way, and weathered it with a smile. The next time I saw that man again, he had regained his throne, his power and led my people to a great victory against the tyrants that had oppressed us."

"That was when I understood that bad times are inevitable. But it is our choice how we brave them. You can do so by grimacing, crying and cursing your luck, making the ordeal even more odious with all the negativity...or you can smile, and greet adversity like an old friend."

"This is why I smile." Miach concluded, "because the alternative is to cry."

~~oOOo~~

If you asked Archer if he had any preconceptions about how the Goddess of Hearth and Family would be like, he would have thought that she would have been motherly. A kind, soft-spoken woman with a gently worn face and a welcoming demeanour.

The tiny girl with the oversized chest and a loud, shrill voice wasn't what he was expecting.

As she fretted around a bemused looking kid, Archer nudged Miach surreptitiously. "Are you sure she's a goddess? Like, absolutely sure?"

"I heard that!" The miniature, immature goddess yelled, a pout already firmly in place as she shot the two older men a look.

"Lady Hestia, please, I'm sure he didn't mea-URK!" the young kid, presumably 'Bell', tried to calm the goddess down, only to have the vial of the healing medicine be emptied down his gorge by a rampaging...well, there was no better way to put this. A loli. A big-breasted rampaging loli.

Just thinking those words together in his head made Archer want to kill something...or himself.

"My apologies." Archer said smoothly, "When I heard about the Goddess of Family, I expected someone more responsible, or mature...or with a larger familia. You can understand my skepticism, no?" He said bitingly, each word a sharp sting to Hestia's heart.

"Heyyyyy!" the goddess whined, looking on the verge of tears, "That's so mean! It's not my fault that no one wants to give the new Goddess a try. They all want to go with Gods of War, or Gods of Wealth or even Gods of Alcohol. Family is not as valued in the Lower World as I had expected."

"There there, Lady Hestia, I joined your familia didn't I? Once I have made a name for myself, others too will see just how good a goddess you are!" the young kid encouraged, patting the goddess on the back, before turning to look at Archer. "I know that you are surprised, but trust me. Lady Hestia is the kindest goddess you will ever meet. I couldn't have asked for a better goddess to lead me." he said earnestly.

The loli goddess' eyes shone with warm gratitude towards Bell before she turned to look at Archer once more. "See! My Bell loves me so much! How about it? Do you want to join my familia too?"

"No." Archer flatly refused, much to Hestia's chagrin.

"Ugh! You are so rude! You would fit in right well with that Loki No-Boobs!" She groused, crossing her arms under her breasts. Archer gallantly did not comment on the fact that this gesture only served to hide her arms away under the prodigious mass of her flesh.

He did however catch the name bundled within the offensive language.

"Loki? As in Loki of the Loki Familia? Yay tall, red hair, flat chest?"

"Yes, that's the one! I thought 'Loki No Boobs' was descriptive enough! Have you met her?" She exclaimed.

"Just making sure. To answer your question, yeah I did meet Loki a few hours ago, at the Tavern. She offered me to join her familia as well."

"Aaand?" Hestia asked in a sing-song, leaning forward in great interest.

"And I turned her down as well. I am not looking to join any God's familia."

Hestia pouted once more at that. An expression most unbefitting any self-respecting adult over the age of ten, let alone a goddess. Within moments, that lackadaisical expression sharpened as she leaned in slyly.

"Fine! I'll let you go on one condition : You will tell me how that annoying plank Loki reacted when you told her no."

Sensing Archer's fraying temper, Miach jumped to rescue the unfortunate young man from his predicament, and Bell showed remarkable perspicacity by taking the cue and engaging the flighty Goddess in a discussion of his dungeon sojourns.

Their rough first introductions aside, Archer quickly fell into pattern with his new acquaintances. For all his idealism and optimism, Miach was someone who had seen and felt the darkness that often lay under the bright gleam of happiness. Unlike his past self, Miach wasn't deluded by his naivety. Archer supposed that he could respect that.

Bell was another surprise. The kid was almost painfully self-aware, and had the patience of a saint. There was some sort of irrepressible cheer and good-humor to him that tempered the steel in him. He wasn't as hardened or battered as Archer was, but the kid's determination was something that impressed Archer, despite himself.

It was obvious that Bell was swiftly reaching a plateau in his growth, but he manfully kept soldiering on. For a moment, Archer was tempted to step in. To offer guidance or mentorship to help the kid grow beyond his limits...but thankfully, good sense prevailed. If he had simply stepped in without being asked, Bell would resent him with time. A reason to grow, a reason to fight is something that everyone should discover for themselves, Archer had learnt with bitter experience with Kiritsugu.

The unfortunate ideals that he had inherited from Kiritsugu were the catalysts that had led him to a cursed existence as a pawn of the world. Humanity's clean-up crew. He no longer resented his father or those ideals, but he could not, in good conscience, think of those tainted dreams fondly either.

No. Bell would have to find his own way through this. If he asked for help, Archer would give it, but nothing until then.

Besides, filling the empty void that was the small goddess' stomach was a full time chore. If that didn't motivate the kid into testing his limits, nothing would.

Speaking of the Goddess in question, Archer's thoughts on her were a little more vacillating. On one hand, she was herself. Loud, annoying, airheaded, flighty, disproportionate, unaware of the concept of societal norms or of the fact that small ribbons are no substitute for bras!

But in spite of all of her flaws, there was a undoubtable goodness associated with her. The purity of heart, and the personality she had drew people to her, like moths to a flame. Even as he watched her dote upon her youngest, and only Familia member, he noticed the little gestures. The fuss she made over his scrapes, bruises, and surprises… The encouragement she gave him, both subtly and overtly. Archer could see the family foundations that were being laid, and constantly reinforced… He could see why Hestia, of all people, was the Goddess of Family and Harmony.

They were all good people, their quirks and flaws notwithstanding, and Archer found himself getting comfortable and letting his guard down around them. It was perhaps this reason that had led to his predicament.

Seated around a rickety table, the four were enjoying bowls of hot stew, a very welcome and filling food in the cold of the evening, courtesy of a joint effort. Miach had sneaked in a couple of onions and potatoes and a loaf of bread in addition to the vials of healing potions. For her part, Hestia had brought back a large bowl full of leftover fried potato snacks, stuffed with a mixture of bean paste and minced meat. Bell had carefully counted out the money that he had earned from the dungeon that day, and after putting aside a tidy sum for the upkeep and maintenance of their new fangled familia, he had taken the remainder and done a quick run to the market, bringing back some flour and salt.

Bringing these all together, Archer had gotten a merry stew set to boil, properly seasoned and thickened. Sure, the meat was replaced with chunks of fried potato snacks, but combined with the fresh vegetables, the stew still smelled absolutely divine.

Considering that this group consisted of two literal gods, that was saying a lot.

It was with a curious eagerness that the other three had tucked into their meal, and Archer himself couldn't resist the allure of nice hot food for long. The next few minutes were spent in silence, interspersed with content 'ooohs' and 'aaahs', testimonials to the taste of the food.

Setting down his spoon with a thump, Archer leaned back with a sigh. "Ah, that was good. Not quite the dumplings and stew that I am used to, but I enjoyed this variant as well."

"Ish goooooooood." was Hestia's enthusiastic approval, while Bell and Miach nodded in agreement.

"Normally, I use cuts of beef and many more spices, to make the base of the stew more rich and filling, but this does very nicely indeed. Such a pity that you didn't bring a few of those herbs along that you smell of, Miach."

Miach looked confused at that, and tentatively sniffed at his tunic's sleeve, "What are you talking about Archer? I smell nothing of herbs…"

As Archer frowned, Hestia leaned in obnoxiously and gave an exaggerated sniff as well, "Nope! You must have smelled something or someone else Archer."

"I am not mistaken! I….oh." The 'oh' was said with a depressed sort of finality as realization dawned. The kind of realization that the glasses you have been searching for the past hour were atop your head all along. The kind of realization that you have just apologized to a mannequin for bumping into it.

The realization that puts your mental faculties in serious question.

Archer had finally understood the source of the strange scents that he had been smelling since his arrival. These were the scents of Gods. Like the magecraft that he could sense vaguely through it's smell. Back in his world as well, this was an unusual skill. All mages could sense and perceive magecraft, to different degrees and levels, of course. Some could see it as a faint shimmer, like a heat haze, still others could feel a slight vibration...a discordant note in the music of the world.

Archer however, sensed magic by its smell. Once he made that connection, things finally began to fall into place.

The dandy boy that smelled of the outdoors and long journeys was a God, as was the busty woman, who smelled like freshly mown grass and petrichor. Loki too had a distinct scent to her, something that he recalled now and hadn't put into place before. She smelled like the raging flames of an inferno or a blaze, for lack of a better word, and the foreboding scent of a dark forest at dusk.

It made sense that Miach smelled like herbs, considering that he was the God of Medicines, and he told the others as such.

To say that they were intrigued was an understatement. What followed, was a quick experimentation into the way magecraft behaved in this new world. Egged on by Hestia's enthusiastic 'Smell Bell! Smell Bell!', Archer gave in and did as requested. As it happened, Adventurers and other members of a God's familia took on a faint whiff of their parent God, along with a light undercurrent of their own power. It was far less pronounced than what a God's scent was though.

Bell...his scent to Archer's senses was like that of ozone, of a thunderstorm and the rains. But overpowering that scent, was a scent of home. Of warm fires to ease the cold nights. Of belonging. It was difficult to put into words, and it was intoxicating. To Archer, who had become accustomed to calling wherever he fell asleep as his 'home', this familiar sensation was nostalgic and sentimental. Almost unbearably so.

So it was with some trepidation that he focused his senses on Hestia.

He really should have known better.

The first thing he smelled was gunpowder. A dreadful stench that always seemed to follow Kiritsugu, along with the bitter tang of guilt and regret. That was followed with a scent of charring flesh, of death. The noxious odour of the Fuyuki fire, where he had died. Where he had been reborn.

That was to be expected. That was his past, and one that he couldn't change. The fires of Fuyuki were as much a part of him as his body. What was surprising was the other fragrances that he could grasp. The pleasant aroma of cherry blossoms borne on a cold breeze, the inviting odour of hamburgers sizzling on the grill, of grassy meadows at sunset.

As was to be expected, the Goddess of Family...she smelled like home. And it brought the pain of loss to the surface. Absently, Archer cleared his throat, which was all choked up for some reason, and wiped at his eyes, noting that the back of his hand came away wet. Strange.

He hadn't banked on the effect his little breakdown would have on his erstwhile companions, who had all closed ranks around him, looking at him with concern and worry writ clear on their faces. Once again, Archer couldn't help but acknowledge that they were all good people, with not a trace of guile or malice in their bearing or their behavior.

So when Miach asked him what was wrong, perhaps it was a result of this, or because of some esoteric skill that all doctors possess that encourages their patients to open up about themselves...but Archer found himself recounting the tale of the forge that had molded him into a blade.

~~oOOo~~

There was a fire. To say that it was a mere fire would be to call a shark, a fish. It was something out of a nightmare, horrific and deadly...yet it burned all the same. Pillars of flames raised their fiery grasp towards the heavens, feasting on the fuel that human bodies provided, gleefully reaching ever higher with every passing minute, crackling and raging with all their might, disdaining the efforts of those who tried to put it out.

It was hell.

It was hell.

It was hell.

Within this hell, a boy walked. He was burned in many places, weak and injured. His little throat barely able to function from all the inhaled smoke. Yet, he walked. What else could he do? Even in this torment, the boy knew that if he fell, he would never rise again. So, he walked.

He could see others clinging on to life, fighting to stay alive. Still others accepting their inevitable end and surrendering to the greedy flames. He saw faces of people that he thought he knew, and then saw those faces slough off , charred and melted from the heat. He saw mothers try to save their babies, their children, yet to no avail.

This world was a sacrifice to the gods, and the people within it, the fuel. Yet, the boy walked on.

First to wither in these hellish flames, was his sense of pain. He ached so much, it became a part of his existence, till he couldn't imagine a time when he didn't hurt. Then, he lost his sense of grief. After all, how could one grieve when there was no respite, no recourse, no one to mourn the dead? They were all one in this blaze.

With each step that he took, the boy began to lose more and more of what made him a human.

Then, the boy lost his name, and with it, lost his desire to escape these flames.

He fell.

He never knew how long he lay there, awaiting his end, but then, he was saved.

His palm was held in calloused, warm hands, and he saw the face of the man who had saved him. All he could think of was 'That man had such a beautiful smile. I want to smile like that one day.'

"...and so, I decided to follow in his footsteps. My father was not a good man. He was a killer, a murderer. He had committed many evils in the course of his life. But never for personal gain or desire. He did it all for his dreams, for his ideals. In my arrogance, I decided that I would be the hero that he never got to be...that I would learn from his mistakes...that I would be better."

He laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. "Needless to say, I didn't succeed."

He sighed and looked up, seeing the horror and shock reflected on their faces. That was to be expected. A small part of him felt guilty on inflicting this on Bell and Hestia, who weren't as worldly as Miach was. But it was only a small part, and he had long since gotten used to ignoring it.

Their horror was expected, yes, but what he didn't expect was to find himself suddenly on the floor while a pair of midgets hugged his sides.

"Oi...you lot...off" He protested his manhandling, but Hestia and Bell were quite undeterred. He looked towards Miach for support, but the man only looked on, giving a slight shrug of denial. The traitor.

It had taken a bit to calm things down. Bell was the most affected of the lot. The boy didn't seem the type to take initiative normally, but something in Archer's story seemed to have resonated with him. Archer put it out of mind. Whatever it was, if it concerned him, Bell would speak about it eventually. If not, it was none of his business.

Eventually, things had settled and they were all once more around the rickety table, talking about this and that. Archer had made clear that he planned to head out into the dungeons on his own, and eventually getting a place of his own. He had declined offers from both, Hestia and Miach, to bunk out at their homes, such as they were, till he found a place of his own.

Not that it stopped the two from offering their help.

"I do insist, Shirou." Miach said kindly, his voice suffused with a warmth that was comforting while being understanding, "Anything you want, any help that I can give, I am glad to. You are welcome to avail yourself of whatever aid The Blue Pharmacy can provide you."

Archer could tell that Miach's offer was genuine, and honestly, that bit he was still having trouble accepting, but it was the truth. Archer was too used to Gods being bogeymen, frightening beings of incredible power who caused havoc wherever they trod, ruining lives with an irresponsible ease. A benevolent, friendly god is something he never expected. Without even bringing up the enigma that was Hestia.

"Seriously Shirou," the tiny goddess in question piped up, "I know I am not allowed to use my godly powers, my Arcanum...but there can be something I can do. I am the goddess of family and home after all." She offered with a smile.

Archer commended himself on gazing into her eyes and her eyes only and nodded back. He was aware that this could be his best chance to leave it all behind; to flee from the horrors of the road, before they take even more of him away. He knew that if he stayed with Hestia, she would not only help him come to terms with all that he had lost, but he himself would grow to enjoy the familiarity of it all. He could easily see himself falling into step, taking up a mentor's role for Bell, or a caretaker's role for their fledgling familia.

He knew that if he walked this path, it would lead him down to something resembling happiness.

As a Counter Guardian, he had walked many desolate paths, made many unimaginable journeys...but this was something he has never faced before. Archer, on some level knew what would happen if he chose to stay. He knew that it lead to safety, to family, to blessed normality...or as normal an existence a Counter Guardian could have. However, as an insidious voice in the back of his mind quietly noted, it didn't lead to answers.

Both Hestia and Miach knew his choice before he said it out aloud. As he began to speak, Miach sent him a heartbroken smile, which he would have returned if he had the strength.

In that moment, a sombre understanding developed between the two.

An understanding that after everything they've seen, everything that had happened, the two still chose to brave the vagaries of the road. It was a decision that revealed something about them, exposing a driving force behind their actions that negated the common sense and rationality of any sane person.

It was a decision only two broken people would make.

It was a choice that a son who fell into the mercy of his murderous father for the sake of a loved one would make.

It was a choice that a man who had sacrificed his very soul for the sake of humanity would make.

"No." Archer said with a finality, smoothly speaking in half-truths, "Thank you for the offer...but my journey brought me to this city. If I am here...I am here for a reason. I will get to the bottom of that reason, if it's the last thing I would do"

~~oOOo~~

Deep within the Pantheon, in the Room of Prayers, a pair of wizened old eyes opened slowly, and gazed into the distance, feeling the weight of the years. His lips curled into a dry smile, as if a crack in the granite.

"Nothing could really keep you down for long, could it?" He said wistfully. "Your rise will herald a new war and trying times...times that I am not confident that this world is ready for."

"I can only pray that the adventurers will rise to the occasion, because if they do not...we are all doomed."

"Politeness dictates that I should bid you welcome, but nothing could be farther from the truth, my son."

Ouranous spoke aloud, seemingly to no one. Yet, the earth trembled and shook under his feet, as if in response.

A/N : Tada, I am here! Two months late. That will teach me to give a set date for an update. As it happened, life got busy, and I had to travel to Italy for a conference and a project. Didn't have the time to re-write and proofread and update. I extend my apology for missing the date.

That said, I am absolutely blown away by the response that this has received. Nearly a thousand follows? over a hundred reviews? You guys are the best.

**FIRSTLY AND MOST IMPORTANTLY** : There's a consistent theme in the reviews to the current chapter about Archer acting OOC and being too open too soon. And you are correct. Without revealing spoilers about the plot, I can only assure you that this is something that is happening because of a reason, and not because I dropped the ball on characterization.

I have messaged most of the guys in response to their reviews, but I would like to address a salient point that was rather...aggressively...brought up. Namely, this fic being a Shirouwank.

I will say this upfront. I dislike writing weak characters. I dislike writing coming-of-age stories. I dislike zero-to-hero narratives. Yes, Archer is going to be strong, and most of the monsters and things won't be a challenge to him. That said, this is not a "fix-it" fic. Archer has his own troubles, his own problems to deal with. He will join the cast in their canon adventures sometimes, or be tangential, but he's not going to step into every trouble and resolve it.

If this is not your cup of tea, I can understand, and would direct you to read some other story that suits your tastes. What more can I say?

Oh, and one guy complained about Archer's cooking being good, and demanded where the fiction that "Shirou is a good cook" sprang from. To that I say, well, considering the fact that Today's Menu with Emiya Family is airing monthly, where it shows Shirou's culinary skills...not to mention Heaven's Feel VN as well as Hollow Ataraxia VN to a lesser extent, both demonstrate Shirou's excellent grasp of cooking.

This was such an odd thing to complain about.

I also got some PMs asking if I have a Pae tree ohn. Sadly, I don't. Might think about getting one if there are enough requests for it, but otherwise no.

Anyway, I am off for now. Next chapter will have Freya shenanigans, as well as Ottarl making an appearance. So, stay tuned!

Let me know what you think guys :)