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Fate/Requiem: Chapter 1

Once upon a time, there was a great war. It happened long ago, before I was born. And then it ended, and the world entered an age of peace.

–

In the modern era, each and every person held within their heart a tiny Holy Grail, which was nothing more or less than that person's preordained destiny. And each and every person was capable of summoning a Servant allotted them by fate, in accordance with the guidance of the Grail.

Servants were an information resource by nature, accumulated throughout human history. Their souls were enshrined in the Throne of Heroes, a place which transcended the bounds of space and time. By 'downloading' them from this Throne, it was possible to manifest them in our world.

–

The shape of the world changed greatly after the war. This town was born anew - reorganised into city units, known collectively as Mosaic City. Among them was Akihabara, the Maritime City, which I called home. Sea levels had risen dramatically as a result of global warming, and now the city quite literally bordered on the ocean. The Kanda river's name was nothing more than a vestige of the pre-war era; in reality, it was nothing more than a canal through which sea water flowed.

–

This town was watched over by the Holy Grail, and not a day went by when its citizens did not partake of its bounties. Those survivors from before the war had been given the opportunity to obtain a Grail upon its conclusion, while those young enough to have been born after the war, like Karin, possessed one within their hearts from birth.

The Grail had brought immortality to the masses. The principal causes of death in the old world – biological factors such as ageing, genetic degradation, infectious diseases, viruses and malignant cancers – had all been conquered. By expending Command Seals, one could even manipulate their biological age. In this city, one of humanity's oldest, dearest wishes – eternal youth – had been realised.

–

But I was different. I alone stood apart. I was the only citizen of this city who had not been granted a Holy Grail. I had been born into this new world, but I would age naturally – and, eventually, die – with all the senselessness characteristic of the old. An irregularity, born outside of the sight of the Grail. That was what I was – me, Utsumi Erice.

With no Holy Grail, I had no Servant to contract with as my partner. Every once in a while, someone would be unable to stifle the urge to ask me how that felt. If it were up to me, I would laugh at them, and tell them that they'd never understand even if I tried to explain – but I'd been chided no small number of times by my master for that. You would be remiss to be callous in your interaction with your social environment, if you wish to live peacefully in this new world.

So, for lack of anything else to say, I answered them like this:

“Imagine you were incredibly short-sighted, to the point where you could hardly see, but you were told you weren't allowed to wear glasses.”

“Imagine being told you had to travel somewhere on foot, while everyone else was allowed to use trains and buses.”

“Imagine going somewhere you've never been before, only to find that the navigation app on your smartphone was an unusable piece of junk.”

The question I had by far the most trouble with was the question of how I survived day-to-day life without Command Seals, which were one of the bounties of the Grail. On that point, no matter how thoroughly I tried to explain, most other people seemed to struggle to understand my situation any more than vaguely, and ultimately had no interest anyway. That was the ideal response, as far as I was concerned. I could find no fault with that.

There were also those who genuinely understood, and responded with exaggerated surprise and sympathy. Some would offer me the usage of their own Command Seals, assuring me with fawning pity that I could come to them if there was ever anything they could do for me. There were even a few so selflessly empathetic that they claimed to truly want to trade places with me – although always with some condition attached, by which they could return things to normal if they so pleased.

Every such encounter reminded me anew that I was nothing more than an amusement to them. A means of flattering their own altruistic sensibilities, and of relieving their boredom for a little while.

Akihabara was a labyrinth in three dimensions, not just two. In a block nestled a comfortable distance from the downtown area on the middle stratum, bordering a natural public park, stood a multi-storey building housing a collection of public service facilities. Contained on one floor of this building was the classroom I frequented.

I had arrived slightly late for the start time, and hurriedly took my seat. The wide, fan-shaped room was almost devoid of students. This was decidedly not a facility for compulsory education; it was offered the people at large educational lecture courses aimed at fostering lifelong learning. Citizens of all ages took the course, and attending every single lecture was virtually unheard-of. Consequently, I was known as something of an eccentric.

The people here knew nothing of the battle of immortals that occurred last night. Those kinds of incidents never made the news.

–

Well then – it was time for Pre-War Human History.

That was the name of the course I was taking. Unfortunately, it could hardly have been called the most popular subject. The content of the lectures was much closer to trivia than education. The main goal of Pre-War Human History comprised learning about the human race's greatest triumphs and blunders in the world of the past. It was...well, to put it bluntly, dry.

In the first place, Akihabara was Mosaic City's premier resort. Students who were sincerely striving to learn, or families concerned with the proper education of their children, would simply up and leave for another district. I had an inclination that this space only really existed to entertain the interests of the lecturer at the front of the hall – my master, Ms. Fujimura.

–

Oh, it looks like that girl's here again.

I cast a quick glance out over the lecture theatre from my usual perch at the back. A small, familiar figure was sat in the very front row, concentrating intently on the lecture. She had come again today. As a rule, I never saw students younger than myself attending these lectures, so she had stuck in my memory. She was a pale child, short in stature, and perhaps old enough to be at the upper end of elementary school. Her voice and attitude during the occasions that she posed questions to the lecturer had given me the impression that she was female, but there was no guarantee. All kinds of people lived in this city.

Her had was invariably pulled down low over her head, and her eyes were covered by her bangs, so I hadn't ever seen her face clearly. I had never engaged her in conversation, and I didn't even know her name. She appeared in lectures once a month or so; I felt a distinct disconnect between her keen attitude in lectures and her abysmal attendance rate.

Today, her standing record for youngest lecture attendee had been broken. The new champion was none other than my companion: the stray Servant I had taken in last night, the golden-haired child. He was at least sitting in his seat for now without making a fuss, but he was fidgeting constantly - rocking his body to and fro, and sometimes lying down as though trying to savour the feeling of the cool wood of the chair. Or so I was thinking, before he suddenly turned to peer into my face, obstructing my view of my tablet.

“You think you're a cat or something?”

“...Ca-...cat?”

“Maybe you're more of a dog, huh. Your hair's all floofy.”

“Dog?”

“Yeah, a dog. You know, woof-woof.”

“I know dogs.”

“Oh, really? Well, I'm glad for y- what the hell do you think you're doing!?”

He had scrambled up onto the seat of his chair, planted both hands on the desk and begun to howl, loud and proud.

Awooooo! Ow-ow-owooo! Awoooooo!

He finished his surprisingly accurate rendition, flashing a beaming smile. I sat for a moment in silent astonishment – and might perhaps have thought for a moment that it was a little endearing, although this really wasn't the time for that.

“Hey, stop that! Get down from there!”

Give me a break. I was just about to give you credit for at least not being as loud as Karin, and you go and pull this. The other attendees were turning back to look at us now, searching for the source of the noise.

“I'm sorry. We'll be quiet. I'm really sorry.”

My master had stopped giving her lecture, and was cocking her head at us. The girl in the front row was looking too. If looks could kill, the glare boring into me from beneath her bangs would have dropped me stone dead. Although I couldn't exactly blame her for getting annoyed at someone bringing this commotion into a class.

Yes miss I'm so terribly sorry I won't do it again...ugh, what did I do to deserve this...

I had no way of knowing how to handle a young child like this boy in the first place – but that said, I also couldn't possible have left him behind in my apartment by himself. And I had thought to myself that I might learn something about him if I brought him here with me.

“Don't dogs say “bow-wow” in English, anyway?”

“Boh-roh.”

“Not even close. Must be nice to be able to mimic things like that, huh...”

Ohh boy. Starting to get the feeling I'm not going to be learning much from today's lecture...

I rested my head on my hand and pouted. Gazing idly at the young boy's angelic face out of the corner of my eye, I cast my mind back through my memories of my baptism last night.

It had happened on the previous evening, after I had been fished from the riverbed by Karin and Kouyou on the wharf. To cut a long story short, I decided to take the boy back to my apartment and put him up for the night, still none the wiser about who he was or where he had come from.

–

I had been living on my own ever since parting ways with my grandmother.

In a quiet corner of Akihabara, there was a small, depopulated district that most people avoided. Before the war, it had comprised a collection of multi-purpose buildings crammed to bursting with shops, but they had all been abandoned after the Grail's large-scale restructuring of the city. My apartment consisted of a room in one such building.

The inside of the room was decorated in Victorian style. Every inch of floor was covered by wooden floorboards, and its antique interior had been preserved unaltered. Apparently, it had originally housed some kind of dubious culinary establishment known as a “maid cafe”.

–

My apartment wasn't exactly designed for ease of living, but it was furnished with a proper bathroom and bedroom, and was more than sufficient for one person to live in comfortably. It even had a veranda, albeit a small one. From the window of my bedroom I could gaze out over a small vertical slice of ocean hemmed in by the surrounding buildings.

–

My opportunities to invite another person back to this humble abode were rare. Considering my job, the risks involved in freely letting others know where I lived were far too high. The only reason I had brought this child back with me was that it would have been too irresponsible to leave him to his own devices. I didn't even know who his contractor was; to have allowed him to freely roam the town would have been unthinkable.

He might have manifested in the form of an innocent child, but that only set me more on edge. I had allowed myself to be disarmed by a target's outward appearance before, on a previous job, and had made a grave mistake because of it. A Servant I had believed nothing more than an angelic young child - like purity itself sculpted in alabaster - had harboured a terrible darkness. The Avenger, Louis XVII. The incident that arose around that particular monstrosity had ultimately claimed not only the life of his Master, but those of a great number of innocents as well.

At the time, I had not yet fully graduated from childhood. Louis and I had been similar in stature, and I had thought we could have been good friends. In the end, however, my friendship and goodwill had been used and turned against me. That incident was not one I would forget easily.

–

There was another reason that I had brought this stray child back with me: I had been driven to my wits' end in another sense. Frankly speaking, I could not take it any more: the rank stench that permeated the both of us had become unbearable, and I could not bear to go another minute without washing it off.

The culprit was the oil slick near the quay that I'd had the ill fortune to be dragged through when I was fished out of the Kanda river. Petroleum-based waste oil, that had leaked from one of the boats moored in the harbour. I had hardly had the time to worry about such things immediately after being deposited on the wharf, but now that I had returned to my senses the discomfort was driving me to distraction. Pouring water over myself or wiping myself down with paper towels would do nothing to remove this - I needed a proper bath.

I had been stopped by a worried Karin when I had tried to totter my way home, still bearing a serious wound that I had no right to have recovered from so quickly. She had only seen me off after I had explained about the charms and such that I kept in my house. She was easygoing like that.

I had tried to invite her to stay the night here, but she had breezily turned me down, saying that she had a friend in the vicinity who would put her up for the night. Karin's social connections remained as much a mystery to me as ever. Although she had given me a rueful smile, saying that her family would be angry with her for returning home the following morning.

–

In any case, I had finally returned home, and could allow myself to relax a little. I looked the boy over once more, this time with the aid of my apartment's artificial lights.

“Hold on. Hey, no, wait, wait, wait! Don't just go right in! Just stand here for a minute.”

I grabbed him by his sodden scarf and yanked him back, prompting a visible sulk.

“Uh...sorry.”

So he did possess emotions, and the capacity to appeal to them. That would be useful, at least.

Both of us looked ridiculous, soaked from head to toe and glistening with oil. I was at least wearing swimwear and a windbreaker in place of my ordinary clothes, but his lot was a much more miserable one. I could feel my memories of the unearthly spectacle I had witnessed below the surface of the water growing more distant by the minute.

Alll-righty. I pulled myself together, and sank to one knee in the entranceway, looking over this child once more from top to toe.

He at least appeared to be eight, maybe nine years old. He was Caucasian, with the pale features particular to Scandinavian climes - although given that Servants were as much concept as they were genetics, any attempt to determine their race was close to meaningless. His hair was a pale blonde, almost white, and it had been left to grow freely.

His scarf was sodden, and hung limp around his neck. Or maybe it was a muffler? Well, it wasn't as though it mattered. It was composed of fabric knitted from some strange, gaudy material – it was hard to say if it was actual gold, or just extremely intricate needlework. His clothing looked to be made of cotton, and had a simple design, reminiscent of a Greek-style tunic. He had a small embroidered design on his chest, which I made a note of as a potentially important clue.

His belt and shoes were made of the same material as his scarf. The heels of the latter had a strange design; they were tapered towards the back, like spurs used for riding horses. I could have taken that as an indication that in life he had been some sort of knight – but nothing else about him gave that impression. He's nothing like any other Saber or Rider-class Servants I've seen.

His pale blue eyes stared back at me questioningly as I scrutinised him. I was seized by a sudden rush of curiosity.

“Hey. Do you think you could tell me where you came from?”

He smoothly lifted an arm to point towards the ceiling.

“From the sky? From Heaven? You don't mean from the moon, do you?”

He shook his head at all of them.

“I've come...from somewhere very far away.”

“All Servants have.”

“...Really?” He must have found something amusing, because his face blossomed into a smile, and he giggled. I was relieved at the unexpected ease with which I was able to communicate with him, although it seemed like he was still struggling to understand what I was saying.

His first words had been in halting English, but from the way he had appeared to be listening in on the conversation between me and Karin I would venture that he at least understood our language. If he was a Servant who had been summoned legitimately, he would have been granted a bare minimum level of common knowledge about the modern era by the Grail, as well as the linguistic capabilities necessary to express himself to others naturally. However, now that I was trying to determine his true name, that was only serving to impede my search.

As I questioned him, I produced a pair of scissors and carefully snipped a five-millimetre length of thread from the back of his tunic, which I deposited in a zip-lock sample bag.

“Would you mind letting me take one of your hairs as well?”

It looked like he was giving me the ok. He did as I asked, without resisting, and as I did he asked me a question.

“Have you come from somewhere far away like me, Eri?”

“Don't call me that. Did you get that from Karin? Alright, listen here. I'm not “Eri”, I'm not “Old man Eri”, and I'm not “Eri-pie”. I'm Erice. Utsumi Erice.”

“Hmm.”

He remained staring at me, giving me no indication whether or not he'd understood. His reaction was a little dispiriting, but I continued anyway. If I kept talking, I might be able to glean something.

“It's not all that far away, really. I was born in Shinjuku. I'm fourteen now, so I guess you could call me a middle schooler, but I don't usually go to school anyway.”

“What's a 'school'?”

“A school is...it's where you go to learn. It's a big building where lots of children all go. Or at least, that's what I hear it was like before the war. They've changed a lot since then.”

“You don't go to school, Eri?”

“I told you to call me Erice. And I don't need to. I'm passing my academic evaluations, and I'm getting the credits I need from extracurricular courses. And I show up for health inspections and such.”

“You don't want to go to school, do you?”

I grit my teeth. He'd hit the nail on the head. He was annoyingly good at that.

“It's...not a matter of whether I want to go or not. I...I have more important things to do.”

“You're alone.” He cocked his head, and then broke out into another smile. “Just like me.”

I suppressed my irritation silently as I tapped at my tablet. I was trying a search for the symbol embroidered on his chest, but nothing was coming up. Just in case, I tried accessing the city network, but no-one had registered any missing Servants - although it wasn't as though that was a frequent occurrence anyway. I could ask my master about any information that might be being suppressed on a public level, but I could hardly go blithely to her cap-in-hand. Not after I had tried to hide from her that I had disobeyed her orders and let Kundry go.

Even so, there was one theory as to his identity that I had managed to come up with. Spurred on by that, I decided to bite the bullet.

“So, which Servant are you?”

“...?”

He tilted his head in confusion. Was he trying to play dumb? It didn't look like an act, at any rate. It seemed that somehow, he really didn't understand the concept of a Servant. Was that even possible?

“I'm asking about your true name. Although your nickname will do, if that's better-known.”

Once, Servants would not have revealed their true name lightly, but that was before the war. In the modern world, it had become more of a question of personal privacy. No small number of Servants had origins that could complicate life in Mosaic City if they became known to others, and the degree of discretion necessary might also change depending on their relationship with their Master.

This boy likely wouldn't talk about his true name if his unknown Master did not wish it. And all the more so if he didn't have one at all.

“Your name, I said. Tell me your name.”

“...Name?”

“That's right. Your name.”

“Don't you know it?”

“...Huh? Don't I...you mean my name?”

It was supposed to be me asking the questions here. I was starting to feel that if I just allowed this wide-eyed child to talk at his own pace, I would end up the one being profiled.

Abruptly, he opened his mouth again. “There's something I've lost.”

“Something you've lost? What did you lose?”

“I don't know.”

I heaved a sigh. At the same moment, a sharp stench once more pricked at my nostrils.

“It sounds like you're suffering from memory loss. I think things like that can happen after summoning...? Well, anyway, there's nothing we can do for now. And I'm about at my wits' end, so right now I'm going to have a shower. I'll let you use the bathroom too, so go on ahead.”

“Show-er?”

“A shower. You know, like a bath.”

“...A bath?”

“Wait, you really don't know? Don't tell me you don't even know what a shower is? Hang on, have you ever even had a wash?”

He shook his head. Apparently he really hadn't ever experienced a bath. Although even if he hadn't, surely the idea itself fell under common knowledge.

Do your job, Holy Grail.

For as long as I had lived here, my bathroom had been rather chic. It had a French-style interior, and was easily wide enough for two people. The star of the show was a shallow enamel bathtub, pulled straight from a western movie. Incidentally, the bedroom was decorated in equally charming fashion, and was the biggest reason I chose this apartment.

The design was uncharacteristically luxurious for a department store coffee shop. Either the owner had been extremely specific tastes...or from the beginning, this building had been designed with less-than-wholesome purposes in mind. Probably the latter. Not that that had anything to do with me; I was nothing more than a grateful beneficiary. But it did mean one more thing for Karin to tease me about.

I gritted my teeth, and led the boy by the hand to the bathroom. He was still dawdling, unsure as to what was going on. I had him take off his clothes and made him stand in the dressing room. Then I set to filling the bathtub, removing my own dirtied clothing as I did so. He's just a kid. What's there to be embarrassed about? Nothing! That's right, nothing at all.

There was still an outside chance that he would turn out to have the mind of a middle-aged man, but I'd cross that bridge if I came to it.

“I suppose I'd better put my swimsuit in to soak...ouch!”

Agony lanced through me as I twisted my body the wrong way. I re-treated the injury to my abdomen, and covered it over with a water-resistant patch. It was still undergoing accelerated recovery, and it was warm to the touch. The wound was serious enough that with the treatment methods of the past, oligemic shock and acute inflammation would have been unavoidable. But this new world had conquered death itself, and treatments for injuries and accidents had not been overlooked on the way. Many technologies had been developed during the war, and now I reaped the benefits.

“It looks like it hurts.”

“Well, maybe a little.”

His eyes were drawn to the scar on my ear, and he screwed up his face.

“It isn’t nice, is it? Every thorn-prick makes its own hole.”

“...You said it.”

Was he worrying that I might be left with a scar, in his own way? If so, he was quite the gentleman.

“But it's ok. Kouyou patched it up for me, so it'll heal with time.”

For my part, I carefully looked his naked body up and down once more. This was a vital step in my investigation, and thus an entirely proper and lawful act.

He was...definitely a boy, yep.

–

Once I had painstakingly washed away the cause of the stench, I finally entered the bathtub - along with the boy, who was trying to escape at any opportunity.

“It's hot.”

“That's what's good about it. Ordinary Servants love to take baths. They're all very happy to get in. There are even some who have baths as their Noble Phantasms. There's one who summons this great big bathchamber, called Terme di Caracalla...”

“I want to get out.”

He was pulling a very sullen expression, but at least he was being obedient.

I can't see any scars on him. His muscles and weight don't seem any different from a normal child's, either. I found it very hard to believe that he might be some kind of knight summoned in their youth. When he'd said that he didn't know what a bath was, the first thing I'd suspected was child abuse; Heroic Spirits who had come from such unhappy backgrounds were too numerous to count. But he showed no sign of having received that kind of treatment, or at least not outwardly.

My confidence in my hypothesis was growing stronger, and I decided to put it to the test.

–

I stretched out from the bathtub. With the steam-clouded mirror as my canvas, I drew a picture of a hat with my fingertip. It was a crude sketch of an old-fashioned, wide-brimmed men's hat with a slightly indented top, as seen from the side.

“Hey. Can you tell me what this is?” I asked him hesitantly, my chest pounding nervously. It only took a brief glance at the picture before he answered.

“It's...a snake.”

I started. For a moment, I was lost for words.

“It looks like it's eaten something big.”

He'd answered my question perfectly.

“It scares me a little.”

Droplets fell from his body as he shivered and turned away. I hadn't even imagined that he might show such a violent reaction. I quickly wiped away the picture on the mirror, and found myself patting his head to try and reassure him. I could feel the slickness of his wet hair and the warmth of his body through the palm of my hand.

“What about “B-612”? Or maybe you could call it “Besixdouze”?”

“Yes.” He nodded in answer. No hesitation.

“You know it?”

“It's a planet, isn't it? But there's no-one there.”

I was silent for a moment. That's right. It's a planet. Of course it is.

“I see...so there's no-one there. But I think...I might know your true name now.”’

B-612 was the name of an asteroid that orbited the solar system. It was not remarkable in any way, save for the fact that it had been discovered by a Japanese national. It would hardly be included in the common knowledge that the Holy Grail bestowed upon Servants. But that asteroid was named for a novella from a foreign country, and the title of that novella was “The Little Prince”.

On a sudden impulse, I embraced him. In the bathtub, I wrapped my arms around his narrow shoulders from behind, and squeezed him tight. So as not to break him. So as not to hurt him.

“If only...if only you had been my Servant...”

He showed no sign of answering me.

Before entering the bathtub, as I was washing myself, I had checked everywhere. Desperately, I had searched to see if Command Seals, the proof of a contract with a Servant, had appeared anywhere on my body. I had strained my eyes in the mirror, checking my back, beneath the translucent medical patch, even the soles of my feet. But they were nowhere to be seen.

Then I was no-one's Master. I could not have made any contract with this boy through the Grail. I was just the Reaper, the same as I had always been.

In that case, what had that sense of foreboding been?

What had that trembling been in my chest? That sense that something had begun that would change my life forever?

In the end, it had all just been my own wishful thinking.

–

After the bath, we retired to my living-cum-dining room, where a mahogany table had stood ever since this place was a cafe. The boy sat in a chair, working his way through a lasagne that I had microwaved from frozen. I was recording the day's events, tablet in hand and a towel around my head, and I was blushing as red as his bolognese sauce. I felt incredibly embarrassed. This boy hadn't even yet come of age, but I had suddenly embraced him, whispered something that felt almost like a confession of love, and then ended up crying. While naked, no less.

His only response, after a while had passed, had been to furrow his eyebrows and complain “It's hot”.

“Is that good?”, I asked.

“It tastes.”

“Really? Sounds great.”

The samples I had taken earlier were on the table. Both contents of the zip-lock bag had vanished, just as I had expected. Separated from his body, his hair and the thread from his tunic had ceased to exist in their pseudo-physical form, and had reverted to being part of his mana. In other words, his body and the clothes he wore were woven from the stuff. That made for strong evidence that he was a Servant - but it was unneeded, because an easier way to tell was right before my eyes. The clothes that I had left on the floor of the dressing room had since returned to a clean, dry state.

The scarf that he wore around his neck floated freely, with no regard for the laws of physics. Even while he was eating, it fluttered gently, as though rising upon the wind. Needless to say, there was no wind inside my apartment.

He couldn't be the Simoun...could he? The poison wind?

–

The night had grown late, and I wrestled with the sleepiness and exhaustion that assailed me as I stared at my tablet. I thought back to the words I had exchanged with the Flying Dutchman, Captain Van der Decken. Every word of the warning he had given me lay heavy on my breast.

Until it became clear that our enemy was the mad queen, he had maintained a policy of non-interference, and only once had he commented on my methods. He had been cursed by a devil of the ocean. My lot was not too dissimilar - for I too was cursed, and possessed by evil spirits. Living my life beyond the sight of the Grail, I might as well have been a naked offering to them. But that was also the reason that I'd lasted as long as I had in this job.

I had let my guard down. I had allowed myself to believe that Captain Van der Decken and I might have been able to find an understanding, as bearers of the same fate. But he had seen through those naïve expectations, and had roughly spurned my advances.

“You have grown to feel joy in the act of slaying Servants, under the pretence of executing the authority of the city. Though you think yourself the master of your spectres, they in turn use you.”

He was telling me, in a roundabout way, that I was intoxicated by the idea of being a superhero. That what I had believed to be pride was in fact conceit.

“Someday, Erice, you will call forth a great evil. And when that time comes, that which you have clung to so dearly will instead force you to your knees.”

Unable to accept his words and fiercely ashamed, I had retorted with some frivolous argument - although I could admit now that it had just been something I had cooked up to make myself feel better. At the time I had thought he was just trying to put me in my place, but thinking back on it now, his words might have been as much in reproach of himself as they had been for me. His relationship with his contractor Aheseurus - equal in spite of being Master and Servant - spoke more eloquently of his sincerity than words ever could.

“Are you paying attention, Erice?”

I was brought out of my reverie by my master's polite chiding.

“You seem very tired. Perhaps it might be for the best if you took a moment to rest in the break room? I can prepare the lecture material for your perusal later, if you'd like.”

I let out a whimper. This was embarrassing. My second disgrace this morning. I shook my head vigorously. My master nodded, and recommenced the lecture in a soft voice.

–

Her name was Caren Fujimura. She was the lecturer responsible for this class, and also my master. I had known her for as long as I could walk.

Outwardly, she appeared to be in her twenties. She had light amber eyes, and wavy, pale grey hair that cascaded down to the small of her back. Her body combined a slender build with voluptuous Hispanic curves. Most notable of all, however, was her impeccable sense of style. Nobody else could come close to its audacity. Today, too, she looked sharp as a knife.

Or at least, I thought so, but waxing lyrical on the subject only seemed to earn me pained smiles from Karin and others. Well, it wasn't as though I cared anyway. If I was the only one who could understand her magnificence, so be it.

“...?”

The boy, who had been quiet at my side for a long time, had begun focusing on my master when she had spoken to me. Now he turned his gaze to the skirt of my school uniform, then to his own trousers, and cocked his head. He turned his head to make one more pass, carefully comparing, and then spoke with some conviction.

“She isn't wearing anything down there.”

“That she isn't.”

My master really was incredible.

It was not on account of her position as my lecturer that I called Caren Fujimura my master. Nor was it on account of her being my fashion role model. She was inhuman, in every way, and not in the sense of being part of the new postwar humanity. She was an artificial intelligence – an AI.

More precisely, she was the municipal administration AI tasked with the management of the Akihabara ward. A human interface that allowed the Grail to communicate directly with the people of the city. A hybrid intelligence – the most valuable in the city – born of the fusion of summoning magecraft, modelled on the kind that called forth Heroic Spirits, and cutting-edge information engineering technology. Such was the true nature of Caren Fujimura.

–

Ms. Fujimura's lecture on pre-war human history continued. Today's topic was the history and profiles of the great pioneers. Those brave adventurers who sailed west on crude wooden vessels, carving a path to an unknown lands. Those bold explorers who discovered – or rediscovered – the distant new world, and secured the shipping routes that would become the lifeblood of a global civilisation.

–

She spoke of Eric the Red, who crossed from Europe to Greenland and settled there. Of his son, Lief Ericsson, who made landfall in the northeast of North America and named it “Vinland”. Of the roots of the Polynesians, who propagated across the islands of the south Pacific in canoes little better than rafts, and were sometimes set adrift by rogue currents to journey thousands of kilometres.

Of Christopher Columbus, the conqueror who never once lost sight of his dream; who sailed to the farthest reaches of the western sea aboard the legendary Santa Maria, and there rediscovered the new world. Of Vasco de Gama, who crossed the Cape of Good Hope and pioneered the Indian trade route. Of the Cape itself - the southern tip of the African continent and one of the great perils of the Age of Discovery, where Captain Van der Decken's Dutch galleon met its fate upon the rocks.

She told of Ferdinand Magellan, whose vessels first circumnavigated the world. Although he perished before the completion of his journey, his feat proclaimed to the world beyond all doubt that the earth was not flat, but round. Through him, the people came to know that the world they lived on was just one more celestial body like the moon or Mars, forging silently onwards through the void.

And here too was the first captain to circumnavigate the globe: Francis Drake, the privateer! Ah, here was the magnificent Golden Hind! I had already been absorbed in the lecture, but here my excitement reached its zenith, my mind filling with daydreams of the open sea.

From Servants who had lived through the same era, I had heard tales that Drake, the admiral who broke the back of the invincible Spanish Armada, had in truth been a woman more gallant than any man. That the man who set the sun had, in fact, been the woman who set the sun. I personally found them impossible to believe, and I'd also heard them refuted by other pirate Servants. Stories like that ain't nothin' more'n piss in the wind, girly. Drake was a man, sure as my beard is long.

It was a common enough story when it came to Servants. Some ages of history had placed little importance on gender distinctions. Conversely, in others women had been so oppressed that they could only perform heroic deeds whilst disguised in men's clothing. Such confusion was liable to muddy historical records.

Even if Drake had been female, it would do nothing to tarnish the glory of her legend.

–

My enriching study time was now approaching its end, although I had struggled to focus on all of the contents of the lecture.

“I would like to give a brief introduction to one final figure. An American man whose one small step signified a giant leap for mankind.”

The screen changed in sync with Ms. Fujimura's commentary. Now it displayed a world of extreme contrasts: a sea of grey regolith, and the dark vacuum of space. Within the shadow thrown by a lunar lander, a figure in a space suit descended a ladder to stand upon the moon's surface.

“This was the first man to stand on the face of the moon. He, too, counts among the great pioneers of the human race.”

“...Eh...?”

A single voice arose, quavering not with wonder but with astonishment.

“A human went to the moon...? A living human?”

The source of the voice was none other than the young girl in the front row.

“Indeed. It would be fifty-six years before the modern day. Three astronauts ventured to the moon, and two among them descended to walk upon its surface.”

“More than half a century ago? There weren't even control units back then capable of calculating orbital trajectories-”

“There were.”

Another video resource flashed onto the screen. This time it showed a bulky copper box that must have weighed dozens of kilograms, and a small keyboard. The commentary indicated that this was the Apollo spaceship's guidance computer.

“Single-core, 8-bit. A most splendid computer to be mounted in the lunar lander. It likely had less than one ten-thousandth the processing power of the smartphones you all have in your pockets. And yet it was enough to guide the lander by autopilot, even though human error necessitated its rebooting just prior to landing.”

Ms. Fujimura sounded almost triumphant now. There had been a strange change in her expression, although it was so slight I doubted anyone but me would even have a chance of noticing. Perhaps, for an AI, it was a point of pride to be able to talk about the vital contribution a computer had made to one of humanity's most historic achievements.

No, that's not it...

She was delighting in the shock her student was experiencing, from her first contact with this knowledge. She was revelling in it. The girl retracted her body and sat back down in her seat, fuming.

“That's irresponsible. It's reckless.”

“Indeed it was. It was one of the most reckless ventures in human history, and precious lives were lost along the way.”

“That's all the more reason it could never have happened!”

As though scoffing at our worries from across the ages, the portly figure of the spaceman upon the screen began to moonwalk, gleefully bounding across the moon's surface. He was humming to himself merrily, like some shameless delinquent.

“Rather carefree, isn't he? One would never think only a thin spacesuit separated him from the zero-pressure vacuum and the hellish 110-degree temperatures outside.”

My master smiled faintly, as she expressed her admiration for the men in the video. Even when they raced their moon buggies across the lunar plain, they were rough and careless, as though they were driving go-karts at some amusement park. The girl at the front returned to gazing at the video, a flabbergasted expression on her face.

“Ah...ahaha...!” I couldn't help bursting out in laughter.

Her shoulders trembled a little. I'd picked an awful time.

–

The “Great Pioneers” instalment concluded by saying that although the human race had raised its flag in one great unknown after the other – first the new world beyond the seas, then the distant skies, and finally the void of space – landing a group of carefree delinquents on the surface of the moon had marked the end of their exploits. Not once since had they set their sights on anything farther. The Apollo generation's dream of a grand conquest of the stars remained a dream to this day. Mars, Venus and the outer space beyond the solar system remained unknown to the print of human boot.

I wondered if perhaps the human race had, somewhere along its way, lost sight of something incredibly precious.

I wondered if perhaps someday there might rise once again, on the edge of the farthest frontier, someone worthy of being called a hero. Someone who would lead mankind forth once more towards a new world.

“Hey, there you are, Eri-pie! Wanne grab some food?”

Karin burst into the classroom just as the lecture had ended. She must have guessed where I would be. I had thought she might have returned home after the events of last night, but she must have remained in Akihabara.

“Oh, it's you, Karin. I'll hold off for now. I've still got things I need to do.”

“Ehh? Hasn't your class just wrapped up?”

“Well, yeah, but I'm not talking about class.”

“Oh, the shrimp's tagging along? Good, good. You put some proper breakfast in him, right? What's he been eatin'?”

“Cereal. And some water.”

“Oh, ouch. You know that's child abuse, right? Like, I should probably be calling a social worker about now?”

“Just give it a rest, geez...”

I hadn't been back to my apartment for the past few days, and my reserves had all expired, so I had ended up with very little by way of food. I hadn't so much as forced cereal and water on him as noticed his interest in the food I was hurriedly shovelling down and shared a little.

Servants didn't typically require meals in the usual sense, but in the post-war world where they had become commonplace, more care was being paid to improving their quality of life. There were even some citizens' groups that insisted that they had a right to live the same as humans. In my view, Servants were fundamentally inhuman existences, and I saw those attempts to impose human restrictions on something unbound by the framework of nature as little more than evidence of their Masters' egotism – although I couldn't deny that might just have been the bitter prejudice of a have-not speaking.

“Sssssssup! Morning, Caren!”

“Good morning to you too, Karin.”

Ms. Fujimura approached the two of us.

“Karin...and Caren...?”

The boy looked between the two, confused.

“Yeah, you got it. Pain in the ass, right? The Caren in Akihabara has this kinda grown-up, sexy feel to her. The one back home is a lot more, uh...wha-chaa!”

“What's “wha-chaa!” supposed to mean? And you should be calling her Ms. Fujimura.” Karin had drawn one knee up to strike a kung-fu pose. I gave her a smack.

“Karin lives in the Shibuya district. The me who lives there is a drawer for a Chinese restaurant.” My master smiled gently. I wondered what it felt like, to know there were different versions of herself active all over the city.

A few elderly students were still hanging around in the classroom, chatting amongst themselves. My master ushered us from the room, and we relocated to a terrace protruding from midway up the building. This was a leisure space, and it commanded a wide view of the sprawl of Akihabara. At this early hour, the sea breeze was light, and the sun was not too strong. It was just cool enough that that shaded areas were still a little chilly.

The distant rumble of a train smoothly pulling in from the oversea viaduct drifted to us from across the water, along with the faint toot of its horn. Beyond the horizon, where the railway vanished, lay Shinjuku and Shibuya.

“So this child is the Servant with the unknown Master?”

“That's right.”

I had already informed her about the situation in advance, but I took the opportunity to introduce the boy to her in person.

“To tell the truth, I already have a good guess as to his identity. Although he doesn't really react to what I say most of the time. He doesn't seem to be entirely all there.”

I took the plunge, and told her about last night's discoveries – hoping somewhere deep down this made up for the regret I felt at keeping quiet about Kundry's flight and the events that had followed.

“Antoine de Saint-Exupéry...? A French author, as I recall, and one of great renown. He was also an accomplished pilot, and served in the Second World War. You believe this child's identity to be this Saint-Exupéry?”

The object of our scrutiny, the child in question, showed no reaction to the name. He took a sip of the freshly-squeezed orange juice that Karin had bought from a juice stand, and pulled a face. Sour.

“His appearance is a poor match, even taking into account the age difference.” I could sense my master checking records in the background, and cross-referencing them with the child in front of her. I pressed on with my next hypothesis.

“I think he's the Little Prince. Don't you think he looks just like Saint-Exupéry's illustrations?”

The Little Prince was an allegorical short story. It was the last completed work by Saint-Exupéry, who passed away at a young age. Whether online or in physical bookshops, one would inevitably find it in the children's book category, but it couldn't be more different to the fairy tales it rubbed shoulders with on the shelves. That said, nor was it something like the Bible, whose every line existed to be quoted and venerated. It was a comforting presence, like a familiar friend at your side, always ready with a lighthearted quip or a sobering anecdote. Or so I thought, anyway.

“Eh? So you're a prince, are you? Hmmmm? Now you mention it, he does look kinda regal. Think he'd make a good match with my Momi? She is a princess, you know. Whaddaya think?”

Karin pinched the boy's cheek, grinning wickedly, and he turned his head away in clear discomfort. I decided to leave them to it, and added to my master that last night the boy had answered my riddle with the keyword that only the Little Prince would know.

“I see...” She struck a contemplative pose as I continued.

“I'm aware that he doesn't look very much like Saint-Exupéry. That's why I'm wondering if he could be an author Servant who's taken on the form of a character from one of his own works. I'm sure there are examples of that.”

“There are indeed. Many authors' works leave a far greater impression on the world to come than the men themselves. Many more choose such forms of their own accord. However, if you would permit me my personal opinion - ”

She left a beat, pushing up her glasses.

“ - I would conjecture that Saint-Exupéry would project himself not onto the Little Prince, but onto the Pilot who narrates the story. It was, after all, his own experience of crash-landing in the Sahara desert that formed the basis for the book.”

“Ah...yes, I...I suppose...”

She was right. Given the content of the book, it was an entirely legitimate criticism. She was saying that this child was likely something fundamentally different to just some writer Servant with perverse tendencies and a strong capacity for empathy.

While I hadn't been watching, the subject of out conversation had begun sipping on a honey-lemon drink. He must have traded his orange juice with Karin. This was evidently more to his tastes; he was smiling broadly.

“I have conferred with the Caren units in the other districts, but he does not appear to match any Servant under our jurisdiction. I cannot even venture more than vague hypotheses as to his class.” It seemed that as an AI, she was capable of communicating with her other units in the background even as she talked with me.

So he wasn't a lost Servant who had wandered in from some other district. At the very least, we now knew that there was no record of Saint-Exupéry being registered as a Servant anywhere in Mosaic City.

“Please do not be disheartened, Erice. I do not mean to dismiss your opinion; the possibility remains. And just by having secured him, you have already done a wonderful job.”

“I suppose...”

“He seems to be stable, aside from his memories, so I will fit him with a classification tag. For as long as he continues to reside in this town, I will refer to him as “The Little Prince (TBD)””.

“...'Brackets...TBD'...?”

“Guess so. Would be a pain in the ass if he didn't have a name, right? Brackets, TBD.” Karin cheerily patted the Little Prince (TBD) on the head.

“Um...about last night's incident...” I straightened my back, and tried to change the topic to my report of the previous night's events – and suddenly my master stood up from her seat, looking at me ruefully.

“I owe you an apology, Erice. A matter has sprung up that requires my urgent attention. Would you mind submitting your report as a brief text document?”

“Eh...? I mean...of course.”

I felt relieved, but at the same time more concerned. Whatever this urgent matter was, this was the first I'd heard of it, and my master was not known for changing her schedule lightly.

“But what do you think I should do about him?”

“That was my next point. I am sorry to ask this of you, but would you mind taking charge of him for the time being? If his identity becomes clear during that time, all the better.”

“Eh-?”

My master's eyes narrowed into a smile as my mouth clamped shut. The already-unusual situation had just taken a turn for the stranger.

“No way, no way, no way. Isn't that going to be a problem? With my job and everything?”

“No other individual in Akihabara is so equipped to tackle as exceptional a case. To call you a specialist in the handling of Servants would not be an exaggeration.”

It would. It absolutely would. My specialisation was not the handling of Servants - it was murder. Restraining the most villainous of Servants, and keeping them under strict surveillance, I could do. But I was not nearly so capable of attending to the needs of a young boy, barely any different from an ordinary human child, who didn't even know his own name.

Karin chipped in. “Can't he just bunk at my place? What's an extra brother or two, anyway?”

“Quite a lot, I think...”

Karin's suggestion was extraordinarily irresponsible, but my master only inclined her head. “My thanks for your hospitality Karin, but I am afraid that I cannot yet say what threat this child poses. I cannot permit him to reside with ordinary citizens.”

“I'm tellin' you, it's cool. I've got Momi, don't I? It'll be fine!”

Karin dug in deeper, and my master responded with another polite but firm refusal. In all honesty, it would have been a weight off my mind – although I wouldn't say that the notion of Karin taking responsibility for a portion of my job didn't grate on me a little.

Just as I was becoming aware of my own troublesome misgivings, a newcomer hurriedly approached the recreation space where we were conversing.

“Caren Fujimura? If you wouldn't mind, there's something I'd like to ask you.”

It was her – the girl in the hat from the front row. She had run out of the classroom just before the lecture had ended, conversing with someone over her smartphone. She must have returned now that her conversation had ended.

“It's nice to see you, Haruko. Do you have a question for me about the lecture?”

“That's right. I wanted to ask about the role of astrology during the Age of Discovery-” A sudden squall blew through the terrace, and she clutched at her hat, pulling it down tightly over her ears. I saw my chance and hurriedly forced my way into the conversation – although really, she had been the one who had interrupted us.

“H-hang on a moment. I was already talking with Ms. Fujimura...”

She glared at me in silence. Her brilliant peppermint-green eyes glinted from behind a parting in her fringe. “It was only thanks to the repeated interruptions from you and your Servant that I didn't have the opportunity to ask these questions during the lecture.”

“Well, I'm...I'm sorry about that. But, well, you see, he's not exactly my Servant...”

“Is that so? My apologies. But as his guardian, you should be more conscious of your responsibility to ensure he does not cause trouble for others in public spaces.”

Her motions – her gait, and even the way she was holding down her hat - were clipped and precise. She was barely taller than the innocent child drinking juice by my side, but she somehow seemed many years his elder. Beneath the white gown I had seen so often in lectures, she was wearing a slightly old-fashioned bright yellow blouse.

I'm positive...I've seen those clothes before somewhere... Now where was it?

“Um...you mentioned astrology, didn't you? If you're curious about the involvement of magecraft in human history, why don't you go to the library? You'd be able to research it as much as you wanted.”

I'd intended it as a sincere and respectful recommendation...but instead she expelled a short, sharp sigh, and her attitude became palpably frostier. This was getting awkward.

“You're telling me to go to the library? That would be far less efficient than asking an administrative AI – I mean, Ms. Fujimura directly. I would have thought that someone who went to the trouble of attending lectures would be cognizant of the vast difference in value between the vague knowledge one can acquire through reference materials, and the clear and consistent explanations that can be gained through conversations with an expert in the field. And if you do not understand that, then I must ask why you insist on wasting others' time with your indolence.”

“W-what do you mean, 'indolence'...?”

“Well damn. Kid's got a mouth on her...”

Things were going from bad to worse - now Karin had taken an interest. If I left this alone, it could easily easily escalate beyond my control and into an all-out brawl. She was free to pick whichever fights she wanted, but I wanted to avoid any risk of worsening my relationships with other students and ending up barred from attending.

“Come on, Karin. Cut it out. I'm not mad or anything.”

“...Hm? Wait a second, I'm sure...” Karin looked as though she'd just noticed something. The girl hurriedly pulled her hat back down over her head. My master had called this girl Haruko, hadn't she?

“I too have important matters to attend to. I really do have to hurry.”

“I...I see. Sorry about all this.” She had come all the way to this terrace searching for my master, and I wanted to show some recognition of her dedication. In that sense, we were kindred spirits. “If I'm not mistaken, you don't come to lectures very often, do you? If you wouldn't mind, I could let you borrow my old notes...”

“If you're going to mock me so, I hope you're prepared for the consequences.”

“Eh? Did...did I say something wrong?” How short was this girl's fuse? I desperately looked to Karin for help, but she only shook her head as though to say there was nothing she could do. And then, in that moment -

“I think that's quite enough, Erice.”

Another newcomer – a woman, who had not been in the classroom – strolled towards us, calling out to me with uncomfortable familiarity. Her footsteps clacked on the floor as she approached.

“Welcome. Your arrival is earlier than I had expected.” Ms. Fujimura, who had been maintaining a position of neutrality in our argument, greeted her in an oddly forced tone of voice.

“It was your message that hurried me here, Caren. You said that I might have the opportunity to see something interesting.” She was dressed in a vintage black sailor uniform, and her long silver hair was left to hang freely. I knew this woman – this woman who looked so out-of-place in Akihabara, who clad herself in an elegant shroud of bygone days.

“Chitose... What...what are you doing here...?”

Now it made sense. Caren's urgent matter must have been her.

The girl in the hat must have caught my murmured whisper. “Chitose...? What kind of civilian could call directly on a municipal administration AI without an appointment...?”

I heard the rushing sound of an intake of breath, and she turned sharply back around to the woman once more. Now that they were standing face-to-face, her small frame meant that she had to crane her neck to look her in the eyes.

“You aren't...Manazuru Chitose, are you...? The Stigmata?”

“...I am indeed. It's been a while since I last heard that name.”

The girl let out a whimper. “How could this happen...”

Her reaction was so violent, I thought for a moment that they might have been about to duel it out on the spot. In stark contrast to her brief reverie, now she was tripping over herself to be polite. She scrambled backwards three paces, and lowered her head woodenly. Her ears were glowing bright red, and from the glimpses I could catch through her bangs her cheeks were similarly flushed.

One of her fingers brushed against the side of her hat. With a swish, it folded in on itself and collapsed into a hairband. With her face now exposed, she bowed her head once more.

“I apologise wholeheartedly for my insolence, Stigmata.”

Chitose only shook her head quietly. “You had business with Caren, did you not? I do not mind waiting a while.”

“I-it was nothing! Certainly, nothing of consequence next to your duties.” She was so stiff and anxious now, her haughty demeanour not two minutes ago seemed like a distant memory. It was actually a little adorable - although in general, I found people's tendency to become so ill at ease in Chitose's presence rather hard to deal with.

For her part, Chitose might have been responding amiably, but that should not have been mistaken for warmth or compassion. Her gaze fell upon the boy seated at our table, and for an instant, her eyes were those of a serpent that had found its prey.

“Yes, that's the boy”, she said, as though talking to herself. “I can't even tell which class his Saint Graph is. I suppose the world is full of surprises.”

I confess - my interest was aroused, and I couldn't suppress a sadistic curiosity. What reaction would her gaze stir in him? Would he show awe? Animosity? Would he ignore her completely, as though erasing his own existence?

But instead – he smiled. A beaming smile, like a shining star. A clear window straight to his heart.

Silence reigned for a second, and then Chitose smiled back at him thinly. Next to me, I felt the girl with the hat flinch. And then, her expression relaxing into a slightly mischievous smile, she approached me, and laid a pale white fingertip on my shoulder.

“I charge you with monitoring this child, Erice.”

“Understood”, I muttered. She gave a small shrug at my disgruntled response.

It looked like our conversation was over. Once Chitose had made a clear decision, my master would abide by it. I stood up from my seat, bowed to my master, and accompanied the boy from the terrace as I'd been instructed.

“Who the hell was that?”, Karin asked breezily, once we were in the corridor. “Gave me the creeps.” Just this once, I was grateful for her laid-back demeanour.

“And what's up with you, anyway? Didn't you have something to ask Caren about? You sure you're ok just leaving like this?”

“It doesn't matter. Let's just go.”

I put the building behind me, as though I were running away from something.

#Fate/Requiem #translation #light novel

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theamberfang · 4 years

Text

NitW: Day 10 [part 4]

Preface

The last time I had a gameplay session, I ended things off after unfortunately beginning an “evening hang-out” with Gregg before I finished exploring the town. I only missed out on visiting Angus at the video store and hiking out past the abandoned Food Donkey, but you never know what new faces Mae might run into, and I just want to experience everything. At this point though, I’ve accepted that it’s highly likely that I’ll play through the game a bit more to go through other routes anyway, so it’s fine to miss out on a bit here and there.

Ride the Chariot

When I got back into the game, things started back up with Mae and Gregg hanging out in Gregg and Angus’s apartment. I’m thankful for that because—between being flustered at the time of playing it and being so delayed in getting around to writing about it—I didn’t remember too much from it.

The scene opens up with Mae and Gregg admiring their “son,” the animatronic rabbit that they had painstakingly brought back to life, sort of. Shortly after, one of the two—I think it was Gregg—suggests that they could go to Donut Wolf. Mae is excited by the prospect since she hasn’t been there since she got back home. Gregg informs Mae that they have pancakes now, which had me mistakenly thinking this was an establishment similar to Ihop or Denny’s, but it’s now obvious to me that this is a donut place more similar to Dunkin Donuts.

Gregg also informs Mae that they can get there since they can use Bea’s car, and Angus can drive them. Of course, they have to ask him first, so the camera pans out a bit, showing that Angus has been in the apartment while they were having this discussion. He doesn’t seem especially excited about getting donuts, but he agrees to it.

Mae and Gregg celebrate by shouting what appears to be Donut Wolf’s slogan: “Ride the chariot! Into Donut Hell! Awoooooo!” I was incredulous at first, because I have a tough time imagining “hell” making it into any sort of advertisement, let alone suggesting that it would be a good idea to go there, but I’m down with it. It at least gives me the impression that this is a relatively small establishment if they’re getting away with that. It also just sounds pretty metal, so I can see why Mae and Gregg seem to really dig the place.

Flat

After a scene transition, the three are on the way to Donut Wolf in Bea’s car, with Angus driving, Gregg riding shotgun, and Mae in the back. Gregg and Mae are apparently in a conversation about how many people they’ve ever kissed. Mae has kissed two people—or one and a half?—which Gregg says isn’t all that many, but Mae counters that he’s kissed even less. (Which means Angus is the only person that Gregg has ever kissed? Assuming that that’s a thing they do anyway.)

The whole time Angus has just been silently driving, so Gregg and Mae try to engage him with conversation, but he’s not very responsive. Even when, after trying to ask him about Donut Wolf’s new pancakes, Mae acts out a funny scene: “Calling Doctor Flap Jackson. You’re needed in my belly.”

Suddenly, the car lurches into the air with a loud noise. I figure that Angus may have run over something, and he brings them to a stop. Mae is upset by this since she really wanted to get to Donut Wolf, and Gregg suggests that they could push the car. Angus just has everyone get out of the car first, so they can actually see what happened and what they need to do.

It turns out that they got a flat tire; maybe it was from running over something or maybe it burst on its own—it’s not clear. From here I don’t recall the exact details: mostly just the emotional energy, which may be precisely what overshadowed the details.

The gist of things is that Angus becomes quite frustrated with this turn of events—well, actually, that’s not accurate. His silence from earlier makes it seem like these were emotions that were already bubbling up, but the stress of getting a flat tire is causing things to boil over. One specific thing I recall is that Angus says he’s tired of having to be the “responsible one.” He also sends a bunch of barbs (figuratively) in Mae’s direction, indicating that she’s a major factor behind his frustrations.

Mae decides to step away and have a look around. Initially she has her mind on trying to find a way to fix a flat tire, despite there just being rocks and twigs out here in the woods, but she shortly finds her mind wandering to owls and, I think, if she could train one. She catches herself doing it, and I can relate to that.

Coming back to the car, Mae actually finds that they have a spare tire and informs the couple. Angus is relieved and Mae asks if she can help, but Angus bluntly says that he doesn’t trust her to not just get in the way.

(I’d like to keep going, but I’m pretty tired now. I’ll try to pick things back up tomorrow when the friends finally make it to Donut Wolf.)

#nitw playthrough #nitw

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charlieconnery · 4 years

Text

Ow, Charlie, that really hurt

Time: After February’s full moon Place: The barn People: Charlie, Victoria, Derrick Summary: Charlie gets turned by Derrick. Awoooooo Notes: Better late than never

Victoria: The bonding ceremony had gone as planned. Smoothly, even. With Aurora there just in case, and Derrick and Victoria each well and strong enough for it to go without a hitch. Victoria didn't check in much after, assuming if there had been any issues Derrick would have brought them to her. But she did go, promptly the next morning to find Charlie in her cell, this time with a key in hand, and an uncharacteristic smile spread across her face as she opened the door. There was something satisfying, about being able to solve this problem in a way that made someone happy. That gave Charlie what she wanted despite everything that had gone on. "Figured you might want to take a shower before we go meet Derrick," she grinned, sliding the door all the way open. "Once you end up a little bed ridden with a wolf bite there won't be much time to get cleaned up. Ready?"

Charlie: Charlie had spent the night a ball of nervous excitement. There was absolutely no way she could sleep so instead she'd written notes, just in case things went badly. Originally, she'd planned to just write one note, but had ended up with several. One for the pack in general, one for Laurie, another for Derrick, another for Victoria. There was a very good chance she would have kept going, but her hand started to cramp and she broke the lead of the pencil she's been given. Despite barely napping, Charlie bounced up with a grin when Victoria unlocked the door to her cell. "A shower sounds amazing. I know wolves don't really get sick, but I'm pretty sure Derrick would barf if he had to bite me in this state," she joked. "Thank you again, this is...I'm still kind of in shock."

Victoria: "Don't thank me yet. We haven't even made it to the other side. And anyhow, I'm not sure Derrick plans to chew and swallow so he'll be okay." Victoria stayed close, in case Charlie was unsteady on her feet. The manor provided food and kept their prisoners alive but that didn't mean she couldn't be tired or weak from sitting around and the lack of sunlight and any other normal life things. She guided Charlie upstairs, to her own room on the third floor and opened the door to let her inside. It seemed better to bring her there than to the wolf den, given that she wasn't yet a wolf and that this whole change seemed like something she might want some privacy for first. "I grabbed your things. They're in the bathroom. Along with some towels. I'm sure the whole place is full of Aurora's soaps and things by now so help yourself to whatever looks good. I'll be here when you're done."

Charlie: There had been no mirrors in her cell, so Charlie had no idea what she looked like as she climbed the stairs to the third floor. She was disappointed to find that she was winded by the time they were halfway there, her legs burning well before they reached Victoria's room. In hindsight, she should have tried some sort of prison workout regimen. Push-ups in her cell or jogging in place. Stretching at the very least. She'd remember that if there was ever another time she found herself locked up. Which, hopefully, there wouldn't be. Charlie murmured another soft thank you to Victoria and headed into the bathroom. Her clothes should probably just be thrown out, but she folded them as she undressed and set them aside to be dealt with later. The absolute last thing she wanted to do was leave a mess in Victoria and Aurora's bathroom. She'd intended for the shower to be quick, but it felt so nice to finally be clean that she lingered. Was it stupid to shave your legs before turning into a hairy monster beast? Didn't matter, she was doing it anyway. She scrubbed away several weeks worth of grime, washed her hair no less than four times and conditioned it until she could finally run her fingers through the length without hitting tangles. When she was finally done, she scrubbed the shower with a spare washcloth so there wouldn't be any residual grime before getting dressed again in clean clothing, a luxury she'd never take for granted again, and heading back out to Victoria. "I think I may have used all your hot water. Sorry about that."

Victoria: Victoria didn't do or say much. She let Charlie get settled in the bathroom and then made herself comfortable on the bed, waiting and giving herself a few minutes to breathe. This choice was a big one, a plan that was almost entirely hers, that her mother had agreed to, that could very easily come back to bite them all of she's wrong. But she felt settled in it too, that she'd made the right choice despite all the nerves. Her new blond with dark had changed the rhythm of her body just a little. A different sensation, and yet comforting and stronger and steadier. Victoria ran her finger over the bandage on her forearm, where they'd drawn a long thing line to pour blood out of as the ritual always suggested. She'd have that scar forever. Along with the mark that now sat inked into her shoulder that sealed what they'd done. A partnership. Another one. Derrick. Aurora. She'd come upon a lot of those lately. When Charlie finished and stepped out of the bathroom, Victoria stood. "I hadn't noticed, honestly. The quiet was nice." She doesn't say anything else but nods. "Better? We should go. We'll meet Derrick in the barn."

Charlie: "I bet, you've been pretty busy lately," she said, shoving her hands into her pockets. She bounced on the balls of her feet, the butterflies returning in full force to her stomach. "Yeah, I'm ready. I have, uh, I wrote some letters...in case things don't work, you know? I case I die. So... if that happens, I left them in the book you gave me. Figured it couldn't hurt to be prepared? But hopefully they can be thrown away in a few days." Victoria: Victoria was almost on her way out the door when she heard what Charlie said and turned back around. Something about it settled strangely in her chest, like a reminder of the severity of this choice. That it wasn't just about whether or not it was a good or bad decision, but the lives affected by it. She sucked in a deep breath and nodded, not wanting to argue with what were probably real, valid feelings Charlie had. "Okay. I'll see to it they go to the right place. But .. Charlie... we're not going to let you die, okay? Derrick will bite you, we'll treat the wound, and you'll be a wolf. Can't promise anything once that happens but as far as this goes, you're in good hands with Derrick. I promise." Charlie: "Oh, I know. I trust you and Derrick, I really do. But people keep mentioning how things could go bad and I could die so I just, you know, want to be prepared." She shrugged, feeling a little silly. "Also, I couldn't sleep. I haven't been sleeping super well since Miss Aemilia's spell because of the nightmares. Do you think those will stop when I become a wolf?" Victoria: "I think we're all prone to prepare for the worst. You -- well you run into a compound full of wolves hoping to become one so. Preparing for the worst isn't your thing, I get it." Victoria smiles just a little and strats leading Charlie outsides, back toward the barn. "I can't speak for Aemilia's magic though. I don't know much about that stuff. But I am sure most of the wolves will tell you that nightmares are a problem for everyone. Being a wolf isn't going to take your demons away." Charlie: "I'm sort of a ready, fire, aim type," she admitted a bit sheepishly as she follows Victoria. She twisted the end of her hair around her finger thoughtfully. "I know that. It's just been worse since she poked around, I'm kind of hoping it'll settle again. But if not, that's okay, I can deal with it. I won't let you down, I promise." Victoria: Victoria only nodded. Charlie was eager, enthusiastic, determined. They were good things to have for morale but maybe dangerous things to have as an individual in the pack. It was something they'd have to work on, among a number of other things. But for now, she lead Charlie to the barn, where Derrick was waiting, and turned to him with a shrug that shook off the presence of her own nerves. "Gangs all here." Derrick: He's been waiting dutifully at the barn, trying to keep his own nerves in check since Victoria had told him they were finally going through with the plan to turn Charlie into one of them. Derrick's arms are crossed, leaning against the side of the barn when he hears footsteps approaching in the distance. He meets Victoria halfway, with a smile of his own, a nod towards Victoria, one towards Charlie. "Miss Victoria, Charlie. Are we all set?" Charlie: Charlie nodded, glancing back and forth between Victoria and Derrick. "Yes, sir, I think so anyway," she said, smiling back through her nerves. It wasn't the kind of nervousness that made her second guess her decision, but more like jumping into a new job, moving across the country, leaving the known behind. It was a good kind of nervousness. "What do you need me to do?" Derrick: "You stay still and relax, the next part will be a little scary. I just wanted to make sure you were ready for this before actually going through with it... There is no turning back, Charlie." He just wanted to make sure that she was positive about her decision, that she had no second thoughts, that she hadn't been talked down from joining the pack after everything Victoria had done for the pack. "Stay still, close to Victoria in case you pass out..." Or other. He nods, another glance towards Victoria, just to make sure, before he turns the corner, where he can discard his clothes and transform to his will into a big auburn wolf. His head is down when he returns, cautious, ears thrown back, careful steps towards both Victoria and Charlie. Charlie: Charlie nodded her understanding at Derrick's words. She knew this was a permanent change, a new life. There was nothing waiting for her back in Pennsylvania or in Kentucky. She had no desire to go home. Moving closer to Victoria she widened her stance slightly in hopes that she wouldn't topple and made sure not to lock her knees. When Derrick returned, a massive wolf she couldn't help but gasp. She'd worked with wolves and they were bigger than people expected, but Derrick was larger still. Though she wanted to, she resisted the urge to pet him, there were probably rules against that, but she did hold out her hand cautiously like she might to an unfamiliar dog she was hoping to befriend. "Wow." Victoria: Victoria had seen a number of wolves in her day, bonded wolves too. But there was something especially extraordinary about Derrick. Large and powerful but still calm, reserved. All the parts of him that made him so heroic sitting tame underneath it. He was beautiful really. And close like this, the power of their bond seemed to vibrate between them in a way VIctoria was entirely unfamiliar with. But it was intriguing. Intense. It made her feel stronger. She stood closer to charlie, wrapped an arm supportive around the back of her shoulders and used the opposite hand to hold Charlie's forearm in place. She looked to Charlie again, to be certain and then to Derrick with a firm nod. "Go on. I've got her." Derrick: Derrick nods, a gush of his breath exhales from between his teeth; it wouldn't be a pleasant experience for him, let alone for Charlie, who would have to withstand the pain of the bite. He keeps his eyes on Victoria -- even though the strength of the bond between them reminded him that he was in complete control of his actions, it was still somewhat unfamiliar to navigate this form so clearly. He circles around them, nudging Victoria's side with his nose, a quiet, careful reassurance, before he turns to Charlie, observing her arm carefully. He whines, opens his mouth, and in the same beat, sinks his teeth down on Charlie's forearm, until his canines dig into her skin and he tastes blood in his mouth. Charlie: Pain. It exploded from her arm and made her knees buckle, transferring a great deal of her weight onto Victoria. Either she'd convinced herself that the last wolf bite didn't really hurt this badly through selective memory loss or this was worse, despite Derrick being in control. She hadn't asked if there was some sort of venom involved in a wolf bite that caused the transformation, it wasn't in the book Victoria gave her. It was probably her imagination, romantic notions taking control to distract her, but she thought she could feel something almost pulsing outward from the bite. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from making more than a strained whimper, tasting blood in her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut. Victoria: Victoria's eyes didn't leave Derrick. She watched him, steady and sure. He was someone she trusted more than most people, second maybe only to Aurora. So she didn't expect any problems, but there were still factors if he didn't know how hard the bite had to be, if he was too new to this. Factors that would make it her fault if he ripped Charlie to shreds, and her choice if he were forced to live with that guilt. But he wouldn't be. In typical Derrick fashion he was sure, precise. Victoria tried her hand too, at staying as steady as she could, to hold Charlie still and upright, and only thing did she look back at her, to be sure she was okay. There was a toughness about Charlie that Victoria liked. A willingness to do whatever it took. It was useful to them if not simply admirable. And once it was done she swallowed the nerves in her throat and held Charlie upright. "Okay... let's get that bandaged. You lean on me. Look at me. You good?" The last thing Victoria wanted was Charlie suddenly passing out. Charlie: Charlie did as she was told, leaning heavily on Victoria and focusing on breathing. “I’m okay,” she said, trying to convince herself as much as Victoria and Derrick. “Really should have gotten drunk first.” She cradled her arm against her body, refusing to look at it for now because seeing the injury would either make her feel like a baby, if it wasn’t as bad as it felt, or it would confirm her feelings and make it hurt all the worse. Nothing good would come of it. She could feel her blood seeping through her fingers and into her shirt but she didn’t care about that. “Sitting might be good,” Charlie decided, taking another deep breath.

#derrick #victoria

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swipestream · 5 years

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Becky Annison Interview – Bite Me!

I have a confession. I really, really like werewolves. Way back in time, I thought Vampire: the Masquerade was neat, but vampires weren’t really my thing. Then someone handed me a copy of the first edition of Werewolf: the Apocalypse (with the paper cover that had the claw marks cut out of it… so cool, but such a poor design decision) and suddenly I wanted into this whole World of Darkness thing. During the 90’s, I spent a couple of years as a Werewolf admin on a World of Darkness MUSH, and when I got to play both Monsterhearts and Urban Shadows, I played werewolves. So yeah, I like werewolves.

Earlier this year, I woke up to a message from fellow Gnome, Senda, asking if I was available to be play in a game for She’s a Supergeek that afternoon. Bleary eyed and not quite awake yet, I said sure. About an hour later, when I was finally awake, I messaged her back and went, “Uh, what’s the game?” “Oh yeah, it’s a game about werewolves and pack dynamics.” OMG. I was so in.

That game was Bite Me!, run by one of the game’s creators, Becky Annison. The game is currently funded on Kickstarter, but there’s still time to get in on it if you’re interested. I recently had the opportunity to talk with Becky about the game and discuss various aspects of the game and it’s creations. And of course, all the werewolfy goodness. AWOOOOOO!

Why Werewolves? What elevates them above other modern monsters?

Werewolves are a personal favourite of mine and have been for a very long time. I’m really taken by the idea of feeling so much closer to your emotions and instincts and having that be your default state. Extending that idea into ‘what if you couldn’t/wouldn’t hide how you feel’ it is a large part of what led to Bite Me!

The other thing I love most about Werewolves is the Pack. Unlike other monsters, Werewolves have a concept of a close social group, people who understand you. When you struggle with the monster inside, you aren’t doing it alone and this is really powerful to me.

What were the gaming influences on designing Bite Me! ?

My gaming influences on Bite Me! come from two distinct areas:

The first is all those games I’ve played over the years where people shared some intense emotional experiences with each other at the table. Those times when we bared a little of our souls to each other and became a little closer as a result. This aspect of gaming is something I’ve been keen to try and put into a game and a system for a long time and it owes a lot to the earliest games I played where we left the system in the dust and just free-formed our characters late into the night. I wanted to design a game where you didn’t have to leave the system behind in order to do that role-playing and get that connection. A game where the system supported it, made it easier, gave it a name and had it as a core element of the experience.

Secondly there are all the games about monsters I’ve played and enjoyed over the years from Monsterhearts to World of Darkness. I like it best where you can experience characters struggling to reconcile their human and monstrous sides and, for me, Werewolves are the ultimate expression of that.

What were your fiction influences when creating Bite Me! ?

Without a doubt it was the work of writers such as Kelley Armstrong (who made my year by agreeing to be a stretch goal writer for this project), Patricia Briggs, The Silvered by Tania Huff and Teen Wolf the TV show.

All of these have a strong sense of the dramatic potential in the relationships of the Pack and the humans who live adjacent to them. They touch on the issues of control and domination – but it is how those issues intersect and interfere in the relationships of the main characters which is so compelling. An Alpha is nothing without a Pack – and that symbiotic relationship in werewolf fiction is incredibly fun to explore.

Tell us about the pack dynamics the game is built around?

The game starts with a set of relationship questions. Each skin gets a question to ask another player – something juicy and messy which sets up a difficult relationship from the start. For example, the Greypelt (the oldest wolf in the Pack) is asked which Packmate player character they betrayed who hasn’t forgiven them yet. The Cub (youngest wolf) is asked which Packmate they hero worship and what that Packmate could do to break their trust.

After all the characters and relationships have been created and the culture and Traditions are all agreed, the MC asks one final question.

“Which of you has broken a Tradition and who is keeping their secret?”

Traditions are the laws of the Pack. Breaking them will involve a punishment like banishment or worse. This final question sets the stakes really high and is inviting someone to really put themselves in a difficult spot.

These questions do two things. Firstly, they set up tense relationships from the beginning, giving people great material to use for making the Spill moves (which I talk about further down). But secondly, they give people Ties on each other. If you get 4 Ties on someone then you mark experience, but you can also spend Ties to boost your roll when you make a Move against another player. There are a lot of player v. player Moves in Bite Me! like Dominate, Mauling and Challenge the Alpha. However, this is not a game where you can steal the party’s treasure at the last minute, backstab the paladin and run off into the sunset. You are a Pack and whatever you do to a fellow Packmate you need to face the consequences of that in the morning. The system is built to tempt and encourage people to take actions which will trigger tension and interesting consequences, and then the players can use the Spill Moves to process what happened.

The Pack dynamics are all about creating really interesting fictional starting points and then giving you a set of mechanics which gets you using all that lovely fiction you created.

I find GMing games a stressful business – so I’ve tried to design a game with a lot of self-sustaining action. If, as GM, you find yourself sitting back and saying nothing for an hour while the players are Spilling all their secrets and feelings then that means the system is working at optimum capacity!

Why PbtA (Powered by the Apocalypse)? What about that specific system spoke to you for creating this game?

PbtA is a very broad framework to work in as a game designer. But some of the most common elements in the system have some really attractive qualities for a Werewolf game.

One of the first things I noticed when I first played Apocalypse World was how the system of Moves gets you into situations where the action cascades out of control hard and fast. That pacing and sense of control slipping away from you is exactly what I wanted Bite Me! to feel like – that instantly made PbtA attractive to me.

The other thing the Moves and Playbooks do in PbtA is allow you to laser focus your design at a really specific experience. I wanted my game to recreate the feeling of being in a werewolf Pack and PbtA gives me a toolbox to really hone in on that.

I would say that Principles are a key element of PbtA for me, as they give a clear direction from the designer to the MC on how to run the game to get the best out of it. So much of our games actually hinge on tacit play culture, trying to transmit that play culture through a text (rather than through playing a game with someone) is hard work. But the Principles form these giant signposts for play culture to give us a head start. Bite Me! also has Player Principles to do the same thing for the players and point them at the play styles to give them the best experience.

Lastly (as if that wasn’t enough!) there is the dice mechanic and the strong hit, weak hit and miss breakdown. On a strong hit the players get a massive success and get to feel like the badass Werewolves they are. On a weak hit they get what they want but with consequences, and those consequences allow the MC to press on the existing tense relationships and untenable situations (key elements of running Bite Me!) or even create new ones. Lastly, on a miss the MC can bring out the array of threats that the players have created, press the Pack really hard to get them to unify against a common foe, or in rare circumstances have a Werewolf completely lose control. Living on the knife edge of control in a violent and threatening world is a staple of the Werewolf genre. The ever-present possibility you could Miss a roll means those threats are always in the back of a player’s mind! You live with the risk that things will get out of control. The MC’s job is to tempt the players into taking that risk.

Tell us about the character options available to the players?

Bite Me! Has 7 skins and I’ll give you a little detail on each below:

The Alpha – this is the skin for people who want the sense of responsibility for the Pack and drama and hard choices that come with that. This skin is all about trying to keep a fragmenting Pack together and protect them from outside threats. The skin Moves of the Alpha often augment and support the other skins. The Pack is stronger when there is a player as Alpha.

The Howl – The Howl looks after the spirit of the Pack as the Alpha takes care of their bodies. This skin has Moves concerning prophecy and rituals of flesh and blood. They can be a loyal adviser to the Alpha or a rival (hopefully both!) but the knowledge they have gained through their rites has created a rift in the Pack, a wound which needs healing.

The Prodigal – this is the skin for people who love drama. You are freshly returned to the Pack after leaving, perhaps through your own choice, perhaps not. The Prodigal has a healing Move (which comes at the price of a second messy relationship!) and is harder to dominate due to their time away from the pack dynamic.

The Enforcer – This is a skin for people who want to explore the conflict between protecting those they love with violence and feeling that as a guilty burden. You have Moves which allow you to put yourself in the place of an endangered Packmate, but you can also dominate others more easily through doing something unacceptable and crossing a line.

The Cub – not everyone is an experienced werewolf, someone has to be the pup of the Pack and that is the Cub. This character has been a Werewolf for not more than a year (although they will likely be a fully grown adult) and their skin is all about being indulged, given a free pass when they break the rules and ensuring that the other Packmates will always get them out of whatever mess they end up in.

The Fixer – This character is for someone who wants to be torn between the human and wolf worlds and loves to live in both. The war inside them will affect their relationships and yet it is often necessary for the Pack’s survival that the Fixer walks this line. The Fixer’s Moves involve getting information out of the human world, making problems disappear and using resources that the rest of the pack don’t have access to.

The Greypelt – The Greypelt is the oldest member of the Pack and probably is a parent or grandparent to many of them. They are for people who like to play the kingmakers, the manipulators and the power behind the throne. They have Moves which leverage their longevity in the Pack, whether that is keeping the history of the Pack, giving advice or being the only person who can dominate the Alpha.

Which moves in the game help create the play you intended with this game?

The play I’m looking for is a cycle. The players want to have difficult relationships which sometimes explode and sometimes fade into the background as the Pack unifies.

In character generation you set up the tension and wedges between the Packmates using those relationship questions. The MC will alternatively press on those relationships or provide threats to make the pack unify. This cycle is fed by several of the Moves – the mechanics for domination and violence will deepen the wedges in the Pack giving people reasons to have emotional outbursts. They also function as way they Pack can ‘get things done’ which makes them deliberately tempting. When the tension is high the pack can Spill and Provoke Spill – sharing emotional conversations about vulnerable things. The subject for those conversations is often provided by the Domination and Mauling (and other Moves). When you have those conversations you accumulate Pack Points which can be spent on assisting Packmates and on super powerful Pack Moves.

The Pack Pool is not just a pool of points for the players to use, it is an important signal for the MC. When the Pack Pool is low you should ease off the action and make space for emotional conversations. When the Pack Pool is high you should press the threats and harry the player characters.

I love games with that emotional conversational element – but you can’t keep on spilling your heart without introducing fresh problems and issues for the characters to engage with. The system cycles between giving people the Moves to have those conversations and the Moves which provide the content of those conversations.

What made you start working on Bite Me! and how long has it been in development?

Bite Me! is a game which has been living in my head in some form or another since I first read Bitten by Kelley Armstrong well over 10 years ago. I remember reading that book and knowing immediately that I wanted to play in a game like that one day. Which is often my reaction to media I love. But the design work started in earnest about two and a half years ago.

Previously I’d experimented with various ideas for Bite Me! including making it a freeform larp centered around pack food rituals. But I gradually came to realise that the PbtA system was such a good fit for all the reasons I mentioned earlier and so when the first Revelation Con was announced (that is the PbtA con that runs in Sheffield, UK) I pulled together a set of basic moves and 4 playbooks and took it along for a test drive. That game went better than I could have hoped for a first playtest. The third Revelation con happened the weekend after I launched the Kickstarter and so far Bite Me! has been run there every year and I hope that is a tradition that continues.

If you’re interested in learning more about Bite Me! or backing it, head on over to Kickstarter and give it a look!

Becky Annison Interview – Bite Me! published first on https://medium.com/@ReloadedPCGames

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