Anomaly Ch. 60 (Patreon)

Shirou hurriedly made his way along the path, the same path that the Countess had taken. There was just no time to waste. At any moment, a veritable storm would hit them, and Shirou was very much the target of her ire. Except said storm couldn’t do any lasting damage to him due to Zelretch.

The issue was everything else around her.

“Lord Emiya?”

The people of Italica weren’t going to be considered allies by the Queen. Best case scenario, they were bystanders gawking at whatever would happen. Worst case scenario? Lady Barthomeloi decides that they were the better, more convenient targets of her anger.

Truthfully, the latter was one scenario that Shirou didn’t fully believe in. Above all else, the Queen was an aristocrat, one that valued loyalty by a significant margin. She would likely not harm the people of Italica just because Shirou had more or less allied himself with them. Of course, this meant that they had a common enemy in the form of the Imperials. 

“Lord Emiya!”

That didn’t mean that the people of Italica would be safe from the aftermath.

There was a reason that nobody wanted to be close to the Queen when she fought.

Only a handful of times had he joined her when hunted down Dead Apostles. On one such occasion, when he had been designated as bait for a particularly difficult to track Dead Apostle in the German Black Forest, had he been in her presence when she unleashed the breadth of her power.

Three square kilometers.

That was the radius that the local news laid out. To them, it was a freak flash fire. A sudden act of God that had burned a significant portion of the forest. It had even happened near an abandoned village, so no harm was actually done, as by the time anyone noticed, the rain had already put out the fire.

Nobody would realize that it was the act of a single woman.

Lorelei Barthomeloi had, somehow, superheated the air to the point where water vapor, H2O, had split into hydrogen and oxygen gas. The resulting explosion was the end result, after a single spark was created. Shirou had only survived because Lady Barthomeloi had specifically created a thin layer of air around him before she detonated the gases.

And Shirou only knew this because, in his delirium, he had dared to ask the Queen what she had done.

What more could she do in a world in the middle of the Age of Gods?

“LORD EMIYA!”

His arm was jolted to a halt by a lithe figure. Turning, he saw Tuka looking at him in quite a bit of worry, “Lord Emiya, are you alright?”

He frowned, “No? I just need to find the Countess-”

“I have been calling you for the past five minutes and you haven’t responded.” Tuka’s frown mirrored his own, but his anxiety increased as he realized what she had said, “I will ask again; are you-”

“It’s been five minutes?” The Enforcer’s eyes shifted around as he understood that he had lost track of time going through memory lane, “There’s no time. We need to inform the Countess as fast as possible.”

“Why would we even need to do so?” The elf questioned, tilting her head, “If you believe that she would go against our enemies, wouldn’t the help be appreciated?”

“Yes, the help is appreciated,” Shirou started, “But the problem is making sure that nobody gets in her way. Which is pretty much that entire section of the wall.”

Shirou suppressed a shudder as a feeling of foreboding settled onto his shoulders. Lady Barthomeloi’s specialty was elemental wind magecraft, which wouldn’t bode well if she, say, decided to remove all the oxygen in the area.

He fully cast off the trepidation as he spotted Countess Myui speaking to several demi-humans, more than likely to implement the plan that they had originally talked about. Unfortunately, it seemed that that plan would be rendered moot.

"Countess Myui!" He called out as the young leader of Italica turned. The demi-humans she had been speaking with - a pair of Warrior Bunnies and a scarred Pooka - stepped back warily, their hands drifting toward their weapons before Myui waved them down.

"Sir Em-Chulainn?" She caught herself, glancing at Tuka before returning her gaze to him, "What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Worse." Shirou stopped before her, "I need you to call off the defensive preparations. Well, most of them anyway."

Myui's eyes widened, her composure cracking for just a moment before she regained it, "Call them off? Why? The Imperials will be here within hours!"

"Indeed." Shirou nodded grimly, "But someone else is coming, and I cannot guarantee that we won't experience friendly fire if your people are still there." The civilians were already being ushered to the inner part of Italica, so there was no need to transfer them over.

The Countess stared at him, her expression shifting from confusion to suspicion. "Who?"

"A mage from my world. The one of the most powerful, in fact." He met her gaze steadily, willing her to understand the gravity of what he was saying, "She's the Vice Director of the Clock Tower, the organization I work for. And she's angry at me."

The admission hung in the air, heavy and awkward. Myui's suspicion melted into something closer to concern, as if she was trying to decide whether to be grateful or terrified, "She's angry at you, and she's coming here? To help us?"

"To talk to me." Shirou corrected, his voice dropping lower, "The Imperials are just going to be in the way. Trust me, you want to keep your people as far from whatever happens next as possible."

Myui’s eyes hardened as she stared at Shirou. She sighed before responding, “I’m sorry, but I can’t risk everything for some person who’s not even here. The preparations shall continue.”

Shirou opened his mouth to protest, before snapping it shut. Through his nose, he could smell a hint of ozone. He grimaced.

He was too late. She was here.

He was not the only one to notice the change, though he was certainly the first. In an instant, the various demi-humans around him collectively shuddered, their eyes dilating. Even untrained demi-humans were far more sensitive to regular human senses, which prompted a lot of confusion from Myui and those who couldn’t feel the magical energy in the air.

What the regular humans could feel was the wind suddenly picking up.

Shirou didn’t know where Lelei was, but he hoped that she had found a place to hunker down. Tuka was already using his body as a shield, as he stood firm against the winds.

Howling, galeforce winds. More than one shout of alarm came from around Italica as a windstorm practically swept into place. 

The others, unprepared as they were, were not so lucky. Across the street, he could spot Itami and Kuribayashi - both of whom had been following from a distance - had lowered themselves to a crouch as they tried to not get knocked over. He expected the rest of the Third Recon were doing the same wherever they were, or were lucky enough to already be indoors.

Shirou did not have that luxury.

She descended with the absolute authority of a monarch, the turbulent winds seemingly parting around her rather than daring to disturb her attire. A large, rich crimson bow sat neatly at her high collar, striking a sharp contrast against her pristine jacket. The coat fell open beneath the waist to reveal dark red, loose-fitting trousers tucked neatly into knee-high brown leather boots, while a silver gauntlet adorned her right hand.

Lorelei Barthomeloi, the Queen of the Clock Tower, had arrived. 

However, instead of immediately questioning him, there was a pause as she took in Shirou’s form. For a moment, the Enforcer was confused, until he remembered that he was still under disguise, and looked like his younger self.

"Emiya." Her voice cut through the howling winds, silencing them instantly. It was a tone devoid of shouting, yet it carried across the courtyard with absolute clarity, “Remove that unsightly form of yours. I will speak to you without farce.”

Shirou coughed into his hand, “Understood, Lady Barthomeloi.” Without any more preamble, he Traced Rule Breaker and stabbed it into his arm, much to the horror of many individuals around them. Lorelei barely blinked as particles of gold flickered and died.

Where before stood a red-haired, fair skinned Celt lookalike, now stood the white-haired, dark skinned Clock Tower Enforcer. He didn’t bother looking to see the Countess and the others’ reactions after that, keeping his head straight at the Clock Tower Lord, who thankfully nodded in satisfaction.

"Now, you have exactly one minute to explain why you have ignored direct summons, absconded to a world brimming with unchecked Mystery, and allied yourself with..." She paused, her piercing gaze sweeping over Tuka, Myui, and the distant JSDF soldiers. "...whatever this is."

Shirou swallowed the lump in his throat. He consciously willed his magical energy to recede, knowing full well that holding a weapon in her presence would be construed as a challenge.

"Lady Barthomeloi," Shirou bowed his head respectfully, "My apologies for the silence. The nature of the Gate connecting our world to this one disrupts standard communications. I was unaware of any summons for my presence."

Lorelei hummed, "I recall informing the Wizard Marshal that I required your presence at the Association approximately two weeks ago. More than enough time for any missive to cross the Anomaly."

"Be that as it may, I have been unable to receive any communications as I've been in the field for that duration." Another bead of sweat made its way down his brow as he schooled his features the best he could.

“An acceptable excuse it may be, it is still an excuse. I have no time for such trivialities.” With a wave of her hand, the winds started up once more, “You will return to the Clock Tower post haste. This is a direct order from myself. Do not test me.”

She twisted around, ready to leave, expecting Shirou to be completely compliant. It was his job and possibly life on the line, after all. Not to mention that the head of the Barthomeloi was the one speaking, disobedience was completely out of the question.

Unfortunately, that’s exactly what Shirou was about to do.

“I’m sorry, but I will have to refuse.”

The air became practically freezing. 

“Emiya. Would you care to repeat that?” Lorelei calmly asked, as the temperature became colder and colder. Already, he could feel the beginnings of frostbite at the tips of his fingers. He did not pay it any more attention than needed, “Did I just hear you refuse my direct order?”

“Ma’am, with all due respect,” It took all of his effort just to not stutter from the cold, “I have allied myself with Italica and the Japanese Self-Defense Force. I cannot, in good conscience, abandon them, as doing so will put the trust and integrity in the Mage’s Association at risk.”

“The Association cares not for the whims of those unaffiliated with magecraft.” Lorelei scoffed dismissively.

“Ordinarily, you would be correct. However, through Wizard Marshal Zelretch’s efforts, a tentative alliance has already been formed between the Japanese government and the Clock Tower. To abandon them now would put his efforts at risk.” That made her pause for a moment. While the Barthomeloi head was well known for her dislike of Dead Apostles, Zelretch still had some modicum of her respect, if only because he was one of the founders of the Clock Tower. Speaking of which…

“Furthermore, I will have to question your personal appearance here, ma’am.” This was a gamble, but one that he had thought about in the minutes before Lorelei’s arrival, “There are very few circumstances that I know of that would require your personal intervention, and one of them would be the existence of a Dead Apostle.”

“...The Wizard Marshal did inform me that an entity similar to that of a Dead Apostle has crossed from our world into this one.” Lorelei granted, “However, I have found no evidence of such a matter.”

“I have reason to believe that the one the Wizard Marshal is referring to is one Zolgen Makiri, whose methods of pseudo-immortality are extremely similar to that of some Dead Apostles.” He took in a breath as he continued, “I also have reason to believe that the enemy that we are about to engage is a ploy by Makiri himself.”

Shirou wasn’t religious, but he prayed to whatever god was listening that Lorelei’s famous hatred of anything related to Dead Apostles would work in his favor. That, and that hopefully, the wild accusation stemming from a thin line with Tyuule’s interaction with Zouken meant that the ancient magus did the same to Zorzal was somewhat true.

If not, then he was risking life, limb and soul. He’d be lucky if he ended up as a brain in a jar if he turned out wrong.

The wind receded, but the cold remained.

Lorelei’s mouth was a thin line as she spoke once more, “You will inform me of everything regarding this Zolgen Makiri. Immediately.”

Hook, line and sinker. Shirou just hoped that fish wasn’t one that would pull him overboard.

…