Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Type-Moon characters or properties expressed in the work of fiction below. They belong to Type-Moon and their creator, Kinoko Nasu. This is a fanfiction not meant for profit but hopefully entertainment.
To the Victor Go the Spoils
By: Elf
Bright green light spilled forth, covering the gardens and bathing it in a ghastly parody of daylight. Trees shook from the force of power being summoned to one spot, the world protesting at the unnatural forces at work here. Tohsaka Masaru’s hand still stung from where his blade had cut into it, and hot liquid still trickled from the wound. Teeth gritted, the young magus opened his eyes to see the light fade and smoke clear.
Standing in the center of the elaborate circle carved into the earth was a slender figure dressed in heavy leathers with a long dark green cloak. Masaru forced his waning prana into his eyes to get a better look at the hero he had called. A hand covered by a fingerless glove crafted of thick brown leather moved to push the hood covering the hero’s face.
Masaru’s breath caught at the dazzling emerald eyes that met his that were set into a heart shaped face framed by a riot of curls the color of burnished copper. The young woman approached, and he could see the long bow and quiver full of arrows strapped to her back and the bastard sword sheathed at her waist. She then dropped to one knee, folded her right arm over her breasts, and lowered her head.
Those emerald eyes looked up at him as a tiny smile crossed her features. She asked in a lilting voice in perfect Japanese, “I ask of you, are you my Master?”
Masaru bowed as well and replied, “I thank you for responding to my Summons. I am your Master, Tohsaka Masaru. My fate is in your hands.”
“Then my bow and blades are yours to command. I am Servant Archer,” she replied as she rose to her feet.
He looked to the yew branch he had taken from England when he was in his teens and then back up at the cloaked Servant. It felt as if cotton had suddenly filled his mouth and his heart was racing as she grinned at him. He ran a hand through his hair and said, “I didn’t expect my Servant to be a woman.”
Especially one so lovely. “Masaru, are you dissatisfied with your summoning?” Archer replied as she pushed a curl from her eyes.
He felt heat flood his cheeks as he rapidly shook his head. Hands were held up palm out as he answered with a nervous laugh, “Oh, no, you just weren’t exactly what I was expecting.”
“Would you have rather had a lumbering mountain of muscle that reeked as your partner? Or me?” she replied with a quicksilver smile as she approached him, moving with a lithe, feline grace.
That burn in his cheeks intensified, and he looked away from that coy smile and dancing emerald eyes. He swallowed, clinched his fists, and met her gaze. Archer was still smiling at him, one hand on her slim hip. This close he could see that she was wearing some sort of leather armor, and there were a series of throwing knives strapped onto one of her supple thighs.
He said, “Well, come along, Archer, we have quite a lot to talk about.”
“Yes, I suppose we do,” she replied, that smile never fading, as she pulled her hood again, concealing her face and gender once more.
******
Takia Edelfelt clamped her hand over her still bleeding wrist. Sini bouncing beside her, amber curls swaying back and forth. Her small hands, identical to Takia’s own, gripped Takia’s arm. Small teeth bit into the side of a cheek, and Takia tasted blood, but said nothing as the flare died down and the sisters were looking at two men in armor.
The one standing in front of Takia wasn’t overly tall, but garbed in shining armor with sharp features and swarthy skin. His dark eyes met Takia’s and he made a fist of his right hand before slamming it into his armored breast plate. His black hair was combed neatly from his face and rested on his neck. He had a pointed beard and reminded Takia of pictures of
conquistadors that she and Sini had seen in history books.
Oddly enough, the man standing in front of Sini as almost identical to the one in front of Takia. However there were marked differences; white and silver were liberally shot through that dark hair and beard, the armor was torn and dinted in several spots, and the proud face was marked with various scars. Sini released Takia’s arm before skipping over to the man standing before her.
Her aquamarine eyes were bright as she said, “We did it, sister dearest! We did the impossible. Those fools said this couldn’t be done, but look!”
Takia was looking, a gnawing feeling crawling in her stomach as she looked at the man before her. The older one bowed deeply to Sini, while the younger one met Takia’s gaze brazenly. As one the warriors asked, “I ask of you, are you my Master?”
Immediately, Sini nodded and said, “Yes, I, Sini Edelfelt, summoned you from beyond death and time to put my fate into your hands.”
Takia bit her cheek again, held her head up, and held up her bleeding arm. To the knight before her she said, “This is proof of our contract, Servant. I am your Master, Takia Edelfelt. Together we will attain the Holy Grail.”
Her knight smiled, his dark eyes dancing as he bowed to her. “I lived for conquests, let me obtain what King Arthur failed to. I am Saber, and together we will win.”
Sini leaned forward and whispered, “Isn’t this amazing, sister dearest?”
Takia only nodded as she eyed her mirror image before curtsying to Saber.
******
Masaru, despite being Japanese, preferred Western teas. He supposed spending years in England studying gave him the taste for it. The memories of the Clock Tower themselves blended in and out with pompous instructors hailing from long bloodlines that screamed of inbreeding to keep up the magi heritage. One of the instructors had an extra finger on his right hand and an extremely lazy eye, but no one brought up those deformities due to what he could do with Air and Fire.
Being Japanese, Masaru had been isolated and even ridiculed by his peers. He knew that his parents had wanted him to study at the Clock Tower, but it had been a chore to say the least. Other magi remarked on his accent when he spoke proper English, the slant of his dark eyes, or the golden undertone underneath his pale skin. Yet he studied to please his mother and father, and to prepare himself for this moment.
His hands shook ever so slightly as the dark amber liquid filled the delicate china teacup. Archer had taken off her cloak and gloves, slinging them over the chair beside her, and was sitting across from him. One leg was crossed over the other, and she had leaned forward slightly on it. Those uncanny eyes watched his every move, and that slight grin never left her face.
Masaru wiped his sweaty palms on the tea towel and extended the cream and sugar. “How do you take your tea?” he asked.
Archer tucked a lock of her curly copper hair behind an ear and answered, “With honey.” She pointed to the sugar. “This was a luxury in my life time, one that I did not get to indulge in enough to gain a taste for it.”
“Well, how about I make it to my tastes and see if you enjoy that,” he suggested as he put three cubes of sugar and a dab of the heavy cream into each tea cup. A silver spoon deftly swirled the mixes together, making the tea look pale and opaque now. The sweet smell filled the room and he inhaled deeply of it. Archer sat up as well, her eyes going wide as he handed her a cup with a lopsided smile.
Her long fingers with their blunt cut nails wrapped around the cup and she hunched down in the chair a bit more. The cup was brought to her lips and Masaru watched as she took the first sip. Those emerald eyes grew as wide as the saucers resting on the table as she tilted the cup back and downed it all. A loud smacking sound of satisfaction poured from her lips before she wiped them off with the back of her hand.
Masaru sat down and took his tea cup. He was smiling as he asked, “Did you find it agreeable, Archer?”
“May I try one of these?” she asked with those wide eyes, looking girlish as she pointed to the cubes in the sugar bowl.
The first sip of tea was bliss and his eyes closed while he enjoyed it. He replied, “I thought Servants only needed prana to exist.”
“You were the one to offer me a beverage, Masaru. Just because I don’t
need it, doesn’t mean I won’t
enjoy it,” she replied as she reached out and plucked a sugar cube from the bowl.
He did grin as he watched her pop it into her mouth and began to suck on it. Her reaction to the sugar was almost the same as it was towards the tea, but with a tiny moan of satisfaction. He chuckled and said, “My Archer has a sweet tooth.”
“Your Archer is used to game, roots, and simple fare,” she replied, her voice distorted by the sugar cube. She then swallowed before reaching for the tea pot, filling her cup, dropping four cubes of sugar in and a larger dollop of cream.
His eyebrows raised as he watched her down her second cup of tea that was accompanied by a loud, “Ahhah!” and a smack of her now glossy lips. Pink had brushed across her fair, freckled cheeks as she eyed the tea pot then looked up at him.
Tohsaka Masaru smiled as he pushed the tea pot closer to her and said, “I can always make more, Archer. Please take your fill.”
“I would have taken it anyway,” she said with a grin as she fixed her third cup of tea.
He sipped on his tea and asked, “Really?”
“Of course. I rob from the rich and give to the poor. Just right now the poor happens to be me,” Archer answered with a smirk.
Masaru shook his head and said, “Honestly, I did not expect Robin Hood to be a woman.”
“I’m just one hero who was given the name ‘Robin Hood’. There were many of us who protected the forests and peasant folk of England. You used a yew branch to summon ‘Robin Hood’,” she said as she slowly drank her third cup of tea.
He nodded and said, “Yes, I cut it from one of the trees in Sherwood myself.”
“Why did you choose an Archer anyway? We are not known for our strength,” she asked as she idly toyed with one of her curls.
Masaru looked into his tea cup and answered, “Because the Tohsaka family has always summoned an Archer since the Holy Grail War began over a century ago. Tohsaka Nagato summoned an Archer. His granddaughter, my grandmother, summoned an Archer. It is tradition.”
“Bugger tradition. If you’re going to wage a war, shouldn’t you summon the most powerful Servant possible? I can feel your strength, Masaru. You should have gone for someone like Lancelot or Galahad. A powerful Saber,” Archer replied with a smirk and her eyelashes coyly lowered over her eyes, “Not a potentially disobedient Archer.”
Heat filled his cheeks as he said, “Well, I do have these to keep you in line.” He rolled up his sleeve, displaying his Command Seals on the back of his forearm, a large open circle surrounding a smaller closed one with a line connecting the two circles at the top. The red marks were like a tattoo upon his fair skin and it hurt when they had appeared, but they were absolutely necessary.
Archer held up three fingers and she said, “You only have three chances to bind me to your word, Masaru.”
“I know that, Archer,” Masaru said with a huff as he rolled his sleeve back up and buttoned the cuff, “My family is one of the three founding families of the Grail War after all.”
The Servant’s extended hand rested back upon the table. She replied, “And the other four Masters are fodder.”
The magus gritted his teeth, nodded, but held her gaze, and said, “Yes. They are.”
“So, why did you purposely choose an Archer?” she asked as she took another drink of her tea.
Masaru straightened his lapels and took up his tea cup again. He answered, “I chose Robin Hood because her aim never fails, that her heart was in the right place to help others and therefore not allow the Grail to fall into an unworthy Master and Servant’s hands, and because Robin Hood was the greatest thief that ever lived.”
“Well the most noble,” she said before saluting him with her tea cup, “If you want to call it that.”
He met her gaze and said, “I summoned Robin Hood with the hope that she could steal the other Servants’ Noble Phantasms.”
******
Archer raised her eyebrows as she looked at her Master and hold his bold decree. Another drink of tea danced that delightful blend of aromatic, sweet, and creamy upon her tongue and she felt her toes curl into her boots from it. She leaned back in the chair and studied the exotic man who had called her forth.
He was not much taller than her, and his face had an oddly beautiful if delicate quality to it. His fair skin had gold undertones to it and his eyes and hair were as black as a crow’s and gleamed with that same intelligence. A large silver ring set with a sapphire rested on the middle finger of his right hand, and she noticed a bracelet set with multiple stones hidden underneath that same sleeve. A second look got her notice of the blood red stones that had been studded in each of his ear lobe, the light catching and bouncing from them.
It was the sort of booty she would have gleefully taken back during her lifetime to sell part of for goods for her followers and to give the other half to the needy. The finery around her spoke that her Master would have been a ripe pocket to pick if she lived in this day and age. However he had called her from Death to be his weapon in this War, to win the Grail and the wishes upon it.
If they won, it was her understanding that she would have gotten a wish as well.
Now that would be an amazing thing. A wish to spend to help those in need. No rich and no poor. Everyone having exactly what they needed to be comfortable, no more and no less. The end of greed. The end of Robin of the Hood, she thought as she looked at her cup.
She drained the last of its contents before pouring the rest of the pot’s contents in her cup. The steam swirled in her face and she inhaled it before adding admittedly absurd amounts of the sugar and cream into it once again. She looked at her Master, those sharp black eyes watching her.
Taking a sip and savoring it, she answered, “Aye, stealing other Servants’ Noble Phantasms would be what you would consider
my Noble Phantasm.”
“And you can use them?” Masaru asked in his low, lyrical voice.
Archer nodded and replied, “For the most part yes. There are some Phantasms that are attached to heroes that only the hero in question can use, but those are fairly rare.”
“I am sorry you will have to break your code about ‘Stealing from the Rich to Give to the Poor’, my Archer,” Masaru said with a sigh and a shake of his head.
“Robin Hood” held up her cup of tea and said, “In this case, Masaru, I
am the poor.”
******
“What sort of heathen land have we gotten ourselves to, sister dearest?”
Your sister complains quite often, Takia’s Saber said in her mind as he stayed close in his spirit form. She smiled as she looked at Sini dressed in blue finery, her arms folded under her breasts. Takia herself was wearing a simple gray pants suit with her golden curls pinned back as much as possible under a dark fedora.
Sini’s pert nose was scrunched as she eyed the small and exotic people around them. Some of them were dressed similarly to Takia, but others were wearing robes of bright colors and shuffled about. Strains of an exotic language caught Takia’s ears as she looked about her, keeping her senses open but focused on nothing.
Sini said, “Just look at them, Takia.”
“They probably find us just as queer, Sini,” Takia replied as she laced her arm with her sister’s.
Sini sighed, her shoulders slumping, and replied, “To think we have to come to such a place to win the Holy Grail.”
Takia nudged her twin and replied, “Think of it as a grand adventure. We’ve left the mansion and Father. We have done the impossible.”
“That we have,” Sini said with a haughty smile, “We will win this together, sister dearest.”
“But first we must go to that priest and ‘register’ our Servants,” Takia said, knowing that most of the people around here wouldn’t understand their native tongue.
Sini nodded and said, “I wonder if any of the other Masters have summoned their Servants as well.”
I look forward to battle, Lady Takia, Takia’s Saber said to her,
I would love to cross blades with King Arthur. Takia smiled and said,
I would rather see you duel against Beowulf myself.
That Monster Slayer does not frighten me, Saber replied in his exotic accent.
Of course not, you were the Conqueror, and only those worthy could stand against your blade, she sent back, figuring flattering an epic hero would be a good practice from time to time.
Takia nodded as she led her sister to one of the few churches that the Japanese capital sported.
As they approached the church, Takia noticed a group of men and woman dressed in similar drab colors but yet of fine, tailored cuts congregating in front of the church. She nudged her sister, and Sini tilted her head at the sight. Then a young woman dressed in black emerged from the church, rubbing her wrist. She joined the uniformed group, they spoke for a moment before heading into the city proper.
Takia frowned and said, “I think that was the Association’s representative for the Grail War, Sini.”
“She has an army at her beck and call,” Sini said with a matching frown.
In Takia’s mind, Saber’s voice was amused as he said,
A small and weak army. Do not worry, Lady Takia. I will prevail over them and turn them to our cause. ******
“Merciful Mary, you’re
twins.”
Sini rolled her eyes and Takia clinched her jaw. Standing before them was the mediator of this war, Father Eric Baker. The man walked with a heavy limp even with the assistance of
his ornate steel cane. He was dressed in the typical cassock that the priests of the Catholic Church favored, and his straight, steel colored hair touched his white collar. Half of his face was a ruin of scars and his left eye was a milky white expanse that focused on nothing.
Sini let her twin’s arm go as she walked up to the priest. A coy smile curved her lips as she tapped them with her gloved index finger. “Sister dearest, wouldn’t you say that this man of the cloth is exceptionally observant?” she asked before looking at her mirror image standing behind her.
Takia smiled, her aquamarine eyes almost glowing as her boot heels rang out upon the wood floor of the church. She walked to join Sini and said, “We are an unexpected pair, Sini. Not every magus family is as wondrous as the Edelfelts.”
“True, especially in these heathen lands,” Sini replied with a tilt of her head.
Father Eric cleared his throat, bowed his head, and said, “My apologies, Ladies Edelfelt. Even a humble man of God such as me knows the traditions of mages.”
“Our power crushes tradition, Father Eric,” Sini said before tossing her curls back.
Takia smiled and replied, “Our family has found a way to bypass such things. The Edelfelt line will flourish and grow when others become stagnant and decayed.”
Only half of Eric’s face could smile, and Sini found herself tasting bile at sight of it. She swallowed her unease and looked at her sister. Eric asked, “So, are you here as participants of the Holy Grail War?”
“Yes,” the sisters chimed in unison.
Eric asked, “And which one of you managed to summon a Servant, and what class did you summon for the records?”
Show yourself, Saber, Sini thought to her Servant with a smile as both Conquerors came into view, standing behind their respective master. Eric’s face went white and he took a step back at the sight of two versions of the same Saber summoned behind the twin magi. A gnarled, withered hand reached up to form the sign of the cross on his head before he shook his head.
Takia’s voice rag out as clear as a bell as she said, “I am Takia Edelfelt, and I am Servant Saber’s Master.”
“I am Sini Edelfelt, and I have called forth Servant Saber for the Third Holy Grail War,” Sini said with a slow smile as the priest stared.
He shook his head and said, “This is . . . impossible.”
“We are the Edelfelts. Through grace and poise we make the impossible a reality,” Sini said with one hand on her hip.
******
The smell of blood was thick in the air, a rich, metallic and cloying scent that burned Egon Grosser’s nostrils. He lifted a silk handkerchief scented heavily with peppermint oil to his nostrils and inhaled. Coldness burned his throat as the heavy mint scent cleared out his sinus passages while overriding the sweet copper tang that was hanging over everything.
Standing beside him was a stout figure in black robes with a white skull serving as his face. Blood was still dripping down compact fists before it was idly shaken off. Thick swatches of wet crimson were smeared on the walls and there was more of it in the other rooms. Grosser’s heavy boots squished due to the vicious fluid that had soaked into the carpet. In the corner of his eye he could see the broken cage of stained ivory sticking up out of a heavy pea coat.
Admittedly, Grosser had been disappointed in drawing Assassin as his Servant, but he had to admire the diminutive hero’s abilities. Within moments the Servant had rendered his way through the Clock Tower’s elite as if it was nothing. Even though the Third Reich would have thrown the malformed Assassin in a Concentration Camp had he’d been a man and not a familiar.
However, looking at him, or rather into that impassive yet unsettling face he wore told Grosser that even the strongest of the Aryan master race could not have bested him. Assassin’s mere presence chilled the blood and culled the senses. His fists could make people explode from the force of his blows, and ripping out a heart through a rib cage was just a flick of his thick, powerful wrists.
“Very good, Assassin of mine,” Grosser said while adjusting his uniform.
The small Servant merely bowed. In the short while after summoning him, Grosser was aware that Assassin was a man of few words. In the other room, Grosser heard screams and
could see brilliant light spilling from the door’s cracks.
Grosser tilted his head towards the door and asked, “Do you think she succeeded, Assassin of mine?”
Assassin’s voice was low and whisper soft as he said, “Yes. She is ruthless, even more so than you.”
“Yes, I know. Her place should be on her back bearing strong children, but that would be a waste of her talents,” Grosser said with a tiny smile.
The door opened and he smiled at the sight standing before him. Tall, blond and blue eyed, she was the Aryan poster child. Grosser could see the definition of her muscles even under the black leather coat she was wearing. Red had splattered against her face, bringing her eyes to even sharper contrast than normal.
Ilse Brunner’s hands were bare as she lifted her left arm for Grosser’s inspection. Like a brand on her skin, a red geometric pattern had appeared. Grosser smiled and asked, “Where you able to take English bitch’s command seals?”
“With ease, may I introduce you to Rider?” Ilse said with a smile as she stepped out of the way, and a man with longish dark hair appeared. He was heavily muscled and dressed in a tunic with light armor. A crude sword was fastened to his hip and he had a golden bridle across his broad shoulders.
The Servant’s dark eyes narrowed at Ilse and Grosser, but Grosser smiled. He said, “Your efforts have pleased me, Ilse.”
“Thank you, Sir. For the Fuhrer,” she said with a salute before slamming her heels together.
Servant Rider’s scowl only deepened as his jaw tightened even more.
*****
“This isn’t right,” Archer said, her hood obscuring the frown that Masaru knew his Servant would be wearing.
He nodded in agreement and said, “Yes, the War has always been held on the Tohsaka lands. In fact, that was my family’s major contribution to it.” His fists closed tightly, the rings on his fingers biting into his flesh under his gloves. A frown etched into his features as he looked around. Paper walls surrounded them, and the woven mats under his feet felt odd. He had been so use to his Western surroundings back in Fuyuki that he had forgotten what a Japanese home was actually like.
Archer pulled her hood back as she asked, “Then why the bloody hell are we here?”
“Politics. More than the three families are waging this war. Apparently it was protested that I would have had too much of an advantage on Fuyuki’s soil,” Masaru said with a sigh and a shake of his head.
White even teeth worried Archer’s plump lower lip as her green eyes looked down. The Servant folded her arms under her breasts as she started to lean against the wall. It rustled behind her, she bolted up right and moved away from it. “So much paper would have been Tuck’s dream,” she said with a shake of her head and a low chortling sound.
He blinked and asked, “Friar Tuck?”
“Aye. He always had a love for books and whatnot, however he couldn’t give up wine and women to take his Vows,” Archer said with a lopsided smile.
Masaru sank to his knees on the futon beside him and folded his hands on his lap. Joints protested the unfamiliar position, but he kept it as Archer went down on one knee beside him. The folds of her deep green cloak whispered against the fabric of the futon, but she did not join him on it.
“I wonder how much of your myth is truth,” Masaru said as he lifted his left hand to his mouth. Starched cotton was unpleasant against his tongue as he pulled the garment off with his teeth and set it aside. He carefully removed its twin from his other hand, careful not to touch the hidden seams that were filled with tiny red tourmalines he selected himself.
Archer tilted her head, grinned, and replied, “I would believe that there are parts to every one of the ‘Robin Hoods’ lives that became interwoven into the myth. I assure you, I had no Maid Marian.”
Heat filled his cheeks as he looked away, stammering, “I didn’t insinuate that.”
“But now you’re going to think about it,” Archer said with a chuckle, “Mayhap you should think of the lively maiden as a blond. Wouldn’t that be a lovely contrast?”
Tension from Archer’s words filled his body as the heat continued to grow. He could not meet her eyes as he replied, “You’re bold.”
“I didn’t become the downtrodden’s champion by being meek,” she said, her voice lilting ever so slightly.
He looked at her and said, “Or maybe the Sheriff of Nottingham was a temptation, despite your animosity to one and another.”
Her lips curved into a snarl and she replied, “Tyrants are never attractive. Like this Hitler I saw in your newspapers while traveling here.”
“You read about Hitler-san?” Masaru asked, blinking at his Servant.
She bowed her head and said, “From what I read, it seemed like he wants to bring the world to war.”
“Would that be a horrible thing? There are things that need to be changed,” Masaru replied.
Her emerald eyes flashed as she met his, her body becoming tense beside his. “War is always a terrible thing, Masaru. You’ll know this soon enough, and mark my words, this Hitler is just another Sheriff of Nottingham.”
Masaru asked, “Why do you think that?”
“Read more up on your country’s potential ally and you’ll see what I have,” Archer said while holding his gaze.
He swallowed, his cheeks feeling very hot while the rest of him felt like ice. Slowly, his hand reached out to touch her arm. Archer’s eyes became wide as saucers as she looked at him. The touch of his hand on her arm felt awkward, but not unpleasant by any means. He patted, surprised at the hardness of muscle he felt there.
“You live up to your legend, my Archer,” he said while withdrawing his hand.
She blinked at that before smiling. She said, “Well, you and I have our own war to wage. I think we should scout and find out about our enemies before charging full into battle.”
“That would be a very sound course of action,” Masaru said with a smile.
Archer fluidly rose to her feet and replied, “And maybe you’ll hear me call out for Marian in my sleep.”
Tohsaka Masaru felt a garbled sound rise from his throat as his cheeks caught flame again.
Annnnnnd now the notes.
If you hadn't already guessed it, this is a 3rd War fic focusing on how the Tohsaka stole an Edelfelt. Originally, I was going to write it for Arashi's contest for "Missing Scene", but it sort of grew way out of proportion. 5,000 words in and it hadn't even scratched the surface. Still, I thought, "Well, if I just focused on Masaru and Takia's parts, I can do this!"
Then I got called for Jury Duty and ended up losing four nights of writing time before the contest was over. Still, there's a few days left right?
Hehe, no. Well, not enough to get it done without making it feel rushed and poorly plotted. Which I couldn't turn in with good conscience.
I would still like to work on this- I love the idea, and more importantly it would prove that I can write something that doesn't have EMIYA Archer in it. Even though there's another Archer that I fell for here. Also El Sid Sabers!
Just I've come across a sort of stumbling block and would like to see what others say.
But look, Elf can indeed write a story that doesn't involve EMIYA Archer.
