Waver Velvet was living in tissue hell.

This was not a metaphor. Beside him, an overflowing wastebasket of blood-stained facial tissues stood as the primary landmark of his room. Evidence of its failure to contain its charges was present in the series of similar tissues tossed around on the floor. A new member joined their ranks, casually disposed of by the gigantic bleeding man behind him, sitting on the bed.

Alexander the Great had a small cut on his face, and his blood-flow simply would not cease. Between the two emergency tissue runs, extra loads of garbage he had disposed of, and supreme care he had to take such that his gracious old hosts wouldn't notice, the young man was almost beside himself with frustration.

He almost wanted to ignore the directive to focus on Caster, simply so he could have Rider crush Lancer and make the bleeding stop.

But, that would be suicide. He was better than that. His alchemical sleuthing had borne fruit, and they were almost ready to go . . . if not for the bleeding. While Rider had no real problems with letting the wound flow free while he was in 'battle mode,' Waver was just a bit too pragmatic to want to be spilling his Servant's blood everywhere, after all.

He had been pacing around his room considering his options when his foot slipped on an errant Kleenex and he fell on his ass. Mumbling in pain, he caught Rider's eye.

"Show more respect, boy! That's the blood of a king you're trodding on! Ha!"

At last, his temper snapped.

Waver stood up, and silently picked up a few of the sanguine objects. He went over to his alchemy set and started to work.

Rider, curious as to his Master's lack of outraged mewling, raised an eyebrow and watched. The boy had proven himself as an alchemist with the river samples, so whatever he was doing was probably going to be interesting, at least.

Waver tore off some of the blood soaked fabric and dropped it into a flask. Muttering to himself, he fought off the urge to wince as he activated his Magic Circuits. He concentrated, and poured prana into the flask.

Rider, still waiting for a result, idly scratched an itch on his scalp with his free hand. This eventually escalated to scratching an arm, then his chest. Within a few more seconds he was itching all over his body and could not scratch fast enough.

Not a fool, he vocalized his feelings.

"Oy, brat, what is the meaning of this?! Do I have to give you another knock on th- oy!"

Waver had turned at the diatribe and glared for a moment before going back to his casting. Blood was streaming from his nose, and Rider could faintly detect the ever-unwelcome smell of seared flesh.

"Oy, boy, you've made your point!"

The itching stopped. Waver let out a breath, and shuddered in pain.

Rider reached out tentatively but drew back as Waver stood and whirled on him.

"Do you GET IT now? I am an AMATEUR! A few drops of blood, and I made you ITCH! If Caster got your blood he could probably make you explode! Lord El-Melloi . . . would probably make your dick rot off or something."

"Really?"

"Really. It's not difficult, it's just a matter of time, prana, and deftness with curses. Blood is the ultimate arcane link, after all. Only an ID-I-OT would leave it spattered around somewhere. Especially this phantasmal Ghost-Liner blood stuff. I don't even want to know what kind of extra ectoplasmic resonance once could achieve with the proper thaumaturgy . . ."

Rider shook his head ruefully as Waver ranted on. The boy was right; he was on a playing field with magi. That the boy felt it necessary to harm himself in making his point only hammered home how serious he was taking this whole War. His success in bypassing Rider's admittedly meager D rank in Magic Resistance was nothing to sneer at, either.

He tossed his current tissue aside and reached for a new one. Dabbing on his cheek, he considered their options with the full brunt of his tactical mind, and smiled.

[***]

Waver followed Rider as he marched into town on a mission. He mentally reviewed the previous day to try to figure out where he had lost his sanity. The initial night after the wound had been mildly annoying, but when he had gone to buy proper bandages Rider, in an utterly unlikely event, had stopped him.

"Miraculous as this age's medical technology is, buying enough of this cottonstuff to dress and redress this little flesh wound will be suspicious in this peaceful place. The bleeding will not cease. Better to use something no one will think twice of in this season if bartered for en masse."

Waver was so gobsmacked by the restraint that he had complied without question, and got massive amounts of tissues instead. At the shopkeep's raised eyebrow, he had simply sheepishly shrugged and said "allergies." Nodding sagely, the shopkeep rang him up and wished his family good health.

This time, however, Alexander was back to his old unstoppable self. He led Waver directly to a hardware store and walked inside.

Waver was dreading whatever it was that was about to happen, when Rider stopped. Crashing into the giant man and regaining his footing, the boy looked at the shelves around them.

"So, boy, I was thinking. If this is a cursed wound, never to heal, then is it not more like a leaking pipe than an ailment of the flesh? This wonderful society has tools with which to fix everything!"

He reached out to one of the many rolls of tape, a thick silvery one.

"Why bother with the healing arts when the plumbing arts are more applicable!"

Ten minutes later Rider was marching down the sidewalk with a big piece of tape on his cheek, Waver in tow.

"What is the matter, partner? You don't seem very energetic!"

Waver gave a long suffering sigh.

"I can't reconcile the genius and the stupidity. My stupidity. It feels terrible to be outwitted by you."

"Ha! Worry not then! Your demonstration with my blood gave me another idea. Don't take this the wrong way, but after our next skirmish I would grant you the honor of cleaning my blade!"

Waver started to retort, then realized what Rider meant.

"Hmm. Well, that's only if you fail to kill them after the first skirmish. Far be it from my Servant to actually expect to fail once."

Alexander blinked, then burst out laughing and slapped Waver on the back. After getting up and brushing himself off, Waver resumed walking, a small smile lodged on his face.

"Well, Master, if you would carry our spoils to home, I have a tad more shopping to do. I had an idea while fetching your river water, and it will not be denied!" The hero suddenly changed directions and waved as he departed.

"Sure, sure, whatever, don't accidentally conquer the town."

Earlier, the previous night, Archer had mentally steeled himself and headed back to his Master's home. This confrontation was inevitable, and how it played out would color his ability to act for the rest of the War.

Before his meeting with the Matou, he hadn't particularly cared too much about the War itself, beyond preventing the Great Fire. His worries there were minimized mostly because Gilgamesh wasn't on the board, and he was ostensibly the other final survivor of his 4th War. Recent revelations completely redrew his priorities, however.

As he approached the Tohsaka estate, he began drawing on prana and whispering his incantation. One way or another, all secrets were going to be revealed and he'd be forced to show his hand, either in combat or demonstration. What everything edged on was how different Tokiomi was from Rin.

The time for the encounter was NOW, just after he saved Rin's life. Tokiomi would be as positively inclined as he was going to get. The only wildcard was Risei.

He entered via the appropriate path and materialized in the hallway outside the study. He knocked.

"Enter."

Opening the door, he took in Tokiomi on his chair with wine, and a distinct lack of Risei. His relief lasted only for a few seconds.

"See, Tokiomi? Just as I told you. You need to listen to me more often, old friend."

What appeared to be a fancy jeweled sculpture emitted sound, and on closer inspection showed a faint image of the priest's face in its facets.

Magical Videoconferencing. Wonderful.

"Now, just as we discussed."

Tokiomi nodded.

"Archer," he began, "What is your true name?"

Archer felt the compulsion to answer. Just before it bubbled off his tongue, he verified his suspicions. Tokiomi's free hand was just out of sight over the arm of the chair. A jewel was probably in it. Risei could have been present, but deemed it too risky. All in all, well planned. There was indeed a bounded field around the chair. Limited, set to react to sudden force or prana intrusion. It wouldn't STOP him, but it would delay him a second or two.

Plenty of time for a suicidal seal-backed Command.

He chuckled, smirked, and shrugged. His internal surrender to the command seal already decided, he used every considerable scrap of willpower he had to make it LOOK like he was simply choosing to answer on his own time. His expression suddenly went serious.

"Emiya Shirou, Master, at your service." He gave a western deep bow with his left arm crossed over his chest, then glanced up.

Tokiomi's hand twitched but otherwise he did not react. Risei had gone silent, digesting the information along with his earlier story.

After a few more seconds, he rose. The smirk returned.

"Is there a problem?"

[***]

Tokiomi was frozen with indecision.

Emiya.

Or, more properly, The Hero EMIYA.

Legend aside, power aside, everything else aside, this Servant was connected to the man Kirei was so concerned about. The agent for the Einsberns. The Magus Killer. While he had personally scoffed at such a designation, the fact that someone that man had touched ascended to the Throne long past the end of the Age of Gods caused him to reevaluate . . .

. . .frankly, everything.

"Are you-"

"I am the adopted son of Emiya Kiritsugu, rescued by him from the Great Fire of Fuyuki City from the wake of the Fourth Heaven's Feel."

His SON. Tokiomi took in the breath that would fuel his Command Seal. Before he could finish, Risei interjected.

"Why didn't you kill us?"

Tokiomi paused.

"I have no loyalty owed this Emiya Kiritsugu. He contributed to the Fire in my history. While I would prefer he not be killed, I will do so if that is what it takes to save the lives I am protecting. As he shares this similarity to me, if he can be convinced of the problem in the Grail before the end, he will perhaps not command Saber to destroy it."

Destroy it.

The Grail. In reach, but instead of sacrificing the Servant at the end . . .

Tokiomi slumped, ever so slightly, and let out a sigh.

"The irony is exquisite, isn't it, Risei?"

"Indeed."

But then one other tiny detail stuck in his mind. He voiced it:

"If you were adopted by Emiya after this war, then that means . . ?"

"Yes. A young version of myself is alive and running around the city somewhere right now, probably."

Tokiomi took a moment to ponder this. A boy with the proven potential to become a heroic spirit. A spirit that . . . wait a moment. He sucked in air through his teeth, a terribly inelegant habit he had abandoned under dire threat from his own mother when he was not quite yet an adult.

"If I did not survive, and you fought in the Fifth War?"

"Very good, Master. I fought in the Fifth War as the Master of Saber, using the same catalyst my father did- though completely by accident."

Accidental Master status. The pieces were quickly falling into place.

"Archer. If you were raised in Fuyuki, where did you learn Magecraft?"

An astute question. Tokiomi waited. They were beyond using compulsion now.

"I was initially taught the absolute basics by my father. Nothing particularly impressive, just structural analysis and reinforcement. I also learned a fun method to convert my body's nerves into makeshift circuits."

Tokiomi blanched.

"That was exactly the expression Rin had when I told her."

Rin.

"We allied early on in the Fifth War, and she took pity on my sorry amateur self and taught me what she could in the time we had during the war."

"She didn't defeat you?"

"Actually my Saber cut her Archer almost in half the moment we met that night. She had all but forfeited the War at that point, her pride aside. As I had no real wish other than to stop the fighting, I had no problem with giving the Grail to her if I won."

Tokiomi raised a hand to stop him while taking a deep sip of wine with the other. This had already caused him to lapse in elegance. He would at least prevent any further loss of decorum by being emotionally unprepared. He lowered his hand and spoke again.

"So when you said you were trained in Orthodox Magecraft, you actually meant my daughter was your instructor?"

"Indeed. As your Master-connection to the Grail should have already informed you, she did good work."

"Tokiomi? What does he mean?"

Closing his eyes, Tokiomi dove into the profile of his Servant's power he had unlocked. The basics he had already reviewed, but the Noble Phantasm . . .

Phantasm? No. This was-

Archer opened his connection to his Master back up in full.

Tokiomi's eyes shot open as he felt the raw power his Servant had been holding active in his Magic Circuits resonate though the connection. Total energy aside, ANY magus that left their circuits full to capacity without using that power would be in unbearable agony. He met Archer's gaze.

"Tokiomi? Archer?"

"Unlimited Blade Works."

A hill of swords.

Smog wafted in his nose as the Reality Marble unfolded before him. Gargantuan gears slowly turned in the sky. A graveyard of bladed tombstones stretched to every horizon. Tokiomi, now standing, turned to his Servant who stood next to him.

"You achieved this?"

"While I was alive. This is not a gift of the Grail. This is my single personal spell and legacy. As one career magus to another, I trust you can appreciate it?"

Tokiomi frowned and looked again at the scene before him. He recalled Archer's earlier comment about his Origin and Element.

"Sword and sword, was it?"

Emiya nodded.

"When I use Gradiation Air, I do not make swords. I pull them from this place."

With a lazy arm motion, Archer caused thousands of blades to lift into the air and float by, single file.

"Every sword I ever see, even for one instant, is recorded here. This place holds not just the swords, but the ingredients and tools needed to recreate each one perfectly. I copy their materials AND their experiences. Their legends as well. Finally, I can freely modify them as I see fit."

A spiraled sword floated by.

"Caladbolg II. A custom take on a quite potent legend. You saw what it did."

"Indeed."

Without any warning, the Reality Marble collapsed and they were back in Tokiomi's study.

"No need to waste any more prana on a demonstration."

"Are you two back? I was about to summon Kirei to see what had happened."

"We're fine, Risei. Archer was just giving me a demonstration."

"If you say so, Tokiomi."

Archer coughed quietly before speaking again.

"In any case, my power can best be summed up as such: I do not create swords. I create a world that contains infinite swords. My singular tiny drop of potential, refined and practiced until it reached the peak of possible Magecraft."

Tokiomi was properly awed. Such dedication that could reach this far was only one short step from the Root. Never mind the path he had walked with the power; he had come closer than most to the proper Magus's goal.

While waiting for Tokiomi to reply, Archer tactfully didn't mention the fact that he had bargained for the last bit of his ability.

"Quite impressive. How did you avoid a Sealing Designation?"

"Minimal interaction with the Clock Tower, aside from a couple close friends. Rin was of the view that betraying her student to the Association would be . . . inelegant."

Tokiomi did not flinch.

"So it could be seen."

"So, to sum up, my only personal objectives in this War are to prevent as many innocent people from dying and suffering as possible. If earning the Grail in the process happens, so much the better. Given the temperament of the other participants, this will probably be the most likely outcome. Where things get sticky are other things I only recently learned." His permanent smirk faded.

"Oh?"

"Tohsaka Tokiomi. I want you to tell me, to the best of your knowledge, what you think has happened to, and is happening to my dear old friend Matou Sakura right now."

[***]

Tokiomi was suddenly very aware of the fact that he was no longer in his warded circle. Taking it in stride, he turned to face Archer fully and met the Servant's eyes.

Cold, and steel-gray, they regarded him neutrally.

The truth as best he knew it, then.

"Sakura was given into the care of our allied family the Matou a year ago so as to eliminate conflict over the inheritance of the Tohsaka crest, and to prevent other opportunistic members of the Association from taking advantage of her. It is my hope that as the Matou heir she will become as formidable and respectable as my own daughter, and that even if one is to fall at the hands of the other one day, it will do naught but strengthen the line and reputation of both families."

The Servant did not react or respond. Tokiomi held his gaze without flinching.

Archer nodded, then asked "And as far as you are aware, she was to become the Matou heir?"

Tokiomi's composure didn't break externally, but mentally he slowly started to spin with possibilities.

"Tokiomi, hold a moment. Archer, please be clear. Exactly what are you implying?" The old priest was a master of manipulation and semantics, and he could see his friend being played as clear as day. The dramatic pace of the supposed revelation would only play into the ever-more-crafty Servant's hands. That Tokiomi was no longer completely safe inside the wards was reason enough for him to covertly send Kirei back to Tokiomi's side. He was not present initially because on the chance Archer decided to try to breach the wards with brute magical force, the blowback would probably have killed Kirei, his own Servant's presence irrelevant. Now that Archer's most likely attack on Tokiomi was a direct blade strike, it was much less dangerous to send Kirei in.

Less dangerous in the sense that if Archer DID decide to kill them all, Kirei might be able to divert him for the precious second needed for Tokiomi to use his Command Seal.

In any case, Archer's pacing needed to be thrown off and Tokiomi needed to regain his clear head. His friend was usually immaculately composed, but the tsunami of information was not doing him any favors. Hopefully he could wrestle control of the conversation away from Archer, if only for a moment.

"Ah. Father Kotomine, my apologies. I was just trying to see how much my Master knew about his daughter's fate. Apparently the answer is virtually nothing."

"Oh? And you would once again take the role of Prophet for us?"

Archer smirked and internally applauded the wily old man's tactic. Anything and everything to soften the blow. Risei readied himself for the next deflection, almost eagerly. Neither man noticed the sweat beading on Tokiomi's face as he considered his next words. Archer heedlessly continued.

"Well, if I am going to be dropping wisdom of the future, I might as well have an appropriate job title. I even wound up dying for the sake of others, so I might actually have a fitting resume. As for Sakura, I'll just say-"

"You killed her with your own hands."

Dead silence.

Tokiomi's eyes were closed, and his breathing was mildly audible. His wineglass was no longer in his hand, and that hand was now rubbing his forehead. When no one contradicted him, he continued.

"She became a puppet, a hollow shell, and you took advantage of the last scraps of humanity in her heart to manipulate her into letting her guard down such that you could finish her. You saved the city- no, more likely the entire world, if I have been reading you right."

Before Risei could interject, Archer nodded. The dreams. Has to be. But in that case . . . uh oh. He replied.

"Yes. That is exactly what happened."

"So am I to understand that in no way was Sakura actually in control of her fate?"

"She was Zouken's puppet until the end. Afterwards we discovered she had been remade into a breeding ground for the . . . Crest Worms and used as a central command and control point. Apparently pieces of the remains of the Fourth Grail had been grafted into her to enhance her abilities in this."

Tokiomi did not respond. Archer continued on in a monotone.

"In hindsight, it became obvious that she was raised and conditioned to accept any and all obligations Zouken placed on her without question, without resistance, and without hope. She was mentally sculpted such that at any time after she was 'ready,' she could be broken the rest of the way and used as he saw fit." Such was the conclusion he had reached after he had slain her but before his fallout with Rin. Better that she not realize the fully magnitude of what had happened to the girl she had assumed was raised much like herself their whole lives.

"Is that all?"

Archer considered carefully.

"This last night I was made aware that Sakura's conditioning was not some late-stage play by Zouken in his desperation to preserve the Grail ritual. It began the moment you gave Sakura into his custody, and apparently was continuous throughout the rest of her life. That I had never realized it during our time as schoolmates speaks for the delicate balance her mental state was in that whole time."

"And you gained this knowledge, how?"

"I encountered Matou Kariya, master of Berserker. He has sold his body and remaining life to Zouken, on the condition that if he delivers the grail, Zouken will let Sakura go free."

Tokiomi let the name roll over him, and through him. Kariya. That chapter of his life had ended long ago, with his winning of Aoi's hand and his former friend's unsightly rejection of – well, everything that mattered in his subsequent flight from Fuyuki. Or so he had convinced himself to think.

Tokiomi tried to imagine Kariya approaching him earlier today out of the blue and explaining the circumstances Sakura was in truthfully. He didn't see it going well- for Kariya, that is.

Archer's faux pas in speaking with an enemy Master could be forgiven, in this case; especially if that Berserker hadn't killed him. His personal connection to Sakura granted that much leeway, at least.

Risei remained silent. His thoughts on the matter were his own for the moment, and whatever resistance he had to Archer controlling the conversation was as dust on the wind.

"Well, Master, may I assume that our Mexican standoff is now over? You look like you need to sit down."

Tokiomi shook his head slowly. Blinking, he considered the Servant again, then waved a hand carelessly in his direction.

"Of course. That said, no time to rest, there are things I need to verify. Things I need to consider." Tokiomi stood up and headed for the door. Just before reaching it, he stopped. "Risei, send Kirei to me in the workshop please. Archer . . . everything else aside, there is one thing you should be very aware of."

Emiya tilted his head slightly. This'll be good.

"Oh?"

"If I ever do decide to kill you, in honor of your accomplishments and tutelage, it shall be by the command: 'Drown in your ideals and die.' I hope you find it to your satisfaction."

He didn't turn to look before resuming his exit from the room.

Archer recovered from his flinch, then began to chuckle as he followed his Master out.

[*****]

Kirei only heard the end of the conversation after Archer and Tokiomi reappeared. It was enough. Archer was, at this point, acting as less of a Counter Guardian or Heroic Spirit at this point and more of a vengeful ghost. He had regrets from his life, and had a chance to unravel the factors that led to them here, before his destiny ever became manifest.

The Church had rather specific things to say about the spirits of the dead and their desires; that such dead were usually Dead Apostles running rampant across the countryside was a side detail, usually.

That said, he found himself amused by the idea that the Grail was destroyed. Yes, Emiya Kiritsugu was a mystery to him before the War, but Archer had splashed some cold water on his fantasies of finally finding someone like himself. That Emiya Kiritsugu had such a simple and childish wish and was yet forced to sacrifice that which he was fighting for . . . after discovering it was tainted, no less? The look on his face must have been something.

Destroying the grail himself once he won it, even if it had not been tainted, was an idea he might have entertained if he had judged the artifact as an abomination or otherwise unfit for Tokiomi. The chances of that occurring were . . . greater than zero, still. Perhaps his own skills could be of use in purifying the artifact? Well, not to think too highly of himself, but he had confidence in his spiritual manipulation skills. The sheer magnitude of the Grail as it had been described to him was another matter entirely.

It would probably require the cooperation of all three founding families to manage. That there was currently a truce on while everyone hunted Caster was convenient; it was likely said truce would be extended if everything went smoothly from this point forward.

Once Kirei entered Tokiomi's workshop after Archer, Tokiomi turned to him.

"Kirei. Have an Assassin make contact with Matou Zouken, and the Einzbern faction if possible. Tell them I would like to speak with them regarding a problem with the Grail. It goes without saying that Kariya and Berserker should be avoided for now."

"Understood," Kirei glanced to the side for a moment. "It will be done."

Kirei also did a quick cycle through the vision of all the Assassins. Two were missing.

Assassin? Did we lose a second body?

. . . We will explain when you have some privacy, Master. We think we are about to locate Caster using a gambit.

Very well.

Kirei watched as Archer explained a few more details and answered questions from both Tokiomi and Risei. The more he heard about the nature of the manifestation of the taint in the Grail, the more worried he became about his own part in the events of that alternate future. Depending on a few details Archer had not gone over, it sounded as if the shadowy presence had more or less fully manifested in the Matou girl before she met her end; a being with malice but no will. The girl had been turned into an empty vessel to channel it, but for no clear purpose.

He tried to use what little he knew of the Matou art (and it was more than most, given that over the years Tokiomi had shared with him all he was aware of) to discern what Zouken could have hoped to gain with his maneuvers, but he kept coming up short. He was missing too much information. His time doing the dirty work of the Church had exposed him to numerous magi of questionable to nonexistent moral caliber, and at the very least each and every one had some concrete motive when committing their atrocities.

The girl was being 'trained' at this time, before the shattered grail ever became a factor. But it was not real training. The more Archer described his battles with Zouken's full complement of worms and possessed pawns, the more certain Kirei became that the man was both insane and easy to vanquish.

Easy for an Executor of the Church, at least. Archer's sterile recitation of the facts of the encounters demonstrated his lack of specialized holy tools and knowledge at the time; he had apparently made a fine showing regardless.

After the Servant finished, Tokiomi bade them both to leave. Kirei exited first, followed by Archer. They made their way to the dining room without comment, then Kirei spoke up first.

"Archer. Do you have any weapons similar in functionality to Black Keys?"

A smirk, and a set of three narrow blades appeared between bronzed fingers.

Kirei nodded.

"Ah, Kirei, if you were offering, I wouldn't mind seeing yours."

Kirei saw no reason not to produce one of his own and hand it to Archer.

The Servant gazed at it for a while, and asked an unexpected question.

"Can I see the ones you use the most? Or have used the most? In fact, a look at all of them would help best."

Kotomine drew and arrayed his entire complement of Keys on the table, wondering what Archer gained from it.

"Perfect. These were made by you, and those three were used and passed around quite a bit before entering your hands. These six you have used the most recently, and you tend to throw those five first. I assume you have more that you threw that were lost, but these have been recovered often."

Kirei heard nothing he needed to correct.

"As you might have intuited, I can glean information from bladed weapons. The more experience a sword has against something similar to what I am probably going to be fighting, the more I gain from seeing it. Normally I would have little to gain from modern blades, but for certain parties I can make an exception."

After reclaiming his weapons, Kirei excused himself and went to find a private location such that Assassin could debrief him on what progress they had made with Caster.

Archer went out into the city again shortly thereafter, not quite sure how to feel about what he had set in motion. Tokiomi was planning something, and even after all the information he had bombarded the man with, he was still unsure as to his current thoughts.

At least he had apparently earned some degree of personal respect. While normally, classical magi were less than respectful of magecraft put to practical use, that he had achieved a Reality Marble more or less quelled any issues they had with his lack of actual intent to approach the Root. That during his life he would have been used as a laboratory animal if they had had the opportunity didn't matter; his status as Tokiomi's daughter's student was something of a bonus in that regard. His master would be slightly more hesitant to dispose of his (alternate) daughter's work.

Kotomine was another matter entirely. The young man had still shown none of the abject, grinning malice he remembered. He still didn't have all the pieces of what occurred in his personal history. Gilgamesh was infatuated with Saber, and apparently had been summoned by Tokiomi. Kirei had betrayed Tokiomi and taken his Servant, apparently. What would cause that arrogant ancient hero to let such a slight pass? He would have just as soon killed Tokiomi himself, would he not have?

These and similar worries froze in Archer's mind as he stopped mid-stride. He was near an open-air market by the docks, where a number of freshly arrived bits of cargo were being sold. All his personal worries evaporated as he noticed an evil that was about to occur. He donned the mantle of an Ally of Justice and marched forward to right the wrong in front of him once again.

Rider had almost bargained down the price of the wine barrel to what seemed an acceptable sum when a sharply dressed man slipped out of the crowd to his side.

"Rider, what the hell are you doing?"

Rider turned to look at the newcomer in confusion for a moment, then brightened.

"Archer! I didn't recognize you in that slick modern getup! Ah, I am about to purchase the wine for my banquet with Saber. I plan to discuss the nature of kings with that one."

Archer coolly looked over the barrel Rider held over one shoulder.

"That wine is terrible, Rider."

The dock merchant's expression froze as the would-be sommelier ruined his transaction.

"If you're going to serve alcohol fit for a king, you'd do better to purchase some of the local fare. Any wine you'd buy barreled off a ship will be overpriced and under-quality; any foreign spirits worth drinking come here bottled, not barreled. This swill was probably sent here to become vinegar."

Rider considered that for a moment, and set the barrel down.

"I'll take your advice, Archer. Might you have the time to help a tourist select something worthy of the Kings of Knights and Conquerors?"

Archer smirked.

"Sure, why not. What food were you planning to serve with it?"

Rider blinked.

"Food? I was just planning to drink!"

Archer's mind reeled at the idea of Saber drunk on an empty stomach. Then at the idea of Saber sober on an empty stomach. Then on Saber eating whatever food Kiritsugu had prepared.

He shook his head and began walking. Rider followed.

"Rider, you do not want to deal with a hungry Saber. Whatever words you have for her will break like waves over a rocky coast. However, you are in luck."

"Oh?"

"I can guarantee, on my word as a chef, what food that little king will appreciate most."

"A chef? Not a knight?"

Archer chuckled.

"I took pride in my food long before I first held a sword. Pride enough to serve a king."

"Big words. Well then, it's decided!"

Archer glanced up at the larger man.

"If you would be willing, I'd have you prepare a feast!"

Archer let the absurdity of the request wash over him, and through him, and then realized he'd get to cook for Saber again.

"You have a deal. What's your budget?"

Rider named a figure, and Archer suddenly felt very sorry for the young future Lord El-Melloi II.