How I Saved History (Fate/Grand Order SI)

They’re swarming the walls.

Waves upon waves of Demonic Beasts clambering up the walls, no matter How vigorously we push them off. The sea of beasts stretches out as far as the eye can see, and I can find no end to it. I kick another one off the battlements, and then groan as five more of them fight to take its place.

“This is the end, isn’t it?” I ask Sigmund, standing at my side. “We’re going to be overrun.”

“Yes.” I can’t see it through that absurdly thick moustache of his, but I can tell that he’s grinning. “A good death, even so.”

Crazy Norsemen. I return my attention to the field of battle, cutting down another Urdimmu, when I hear one of the soldiers shout out. “Girtablilu! Girtablilu is commanding the enemy!”

“Where, soldier?” Sigmund asks, storming over to the man that spoke. He points and Sigmund turns towards where the scorpion-bodied woman stands, at the heart of the enemy, over a mile away from the front lines.

Sigmund draws his blade. “All the world shall know that unborn I spoke but one vow, that I would flee neither fire nor iron from fear, and so I have done until now. I will not break it now.”

“Sigmund?” I ask, as the swarm starts to clamber up the walls. “What are you doing?”

“Hold the walls, Perseus! And I will take her head!” and then he takes a running start and jumps into the sea of demonic beasts, moving like lightning as he carves a path towards Girtablilu.

I almost lunge in to help him, but then-

---​

I wake up to the seventh murder attempt on me by Uruk’s stray cat population. One of them is curled up on my face, blocking off my airways in an attempt to smother me for being late in feeding them. I pull the little bastard off, yawn, and get up out of bed, before I go to my morning routine, which mostly consists of feeding stray cats, and the occasional stray dog. After all, I’m a Servant, it’s not like I need my food rations. Strictly, I don’t need sleep, either, but it’s good for my mental health.

I frown as I make my way to the ziggurat, to check in with my Master for today’s assignment. I haven’t dreamed of the day Sigmund died in a while. I have to wonder, now, why is he back to haunting my subconscious?

An answer comes to the fore, as I use the Sandals of Hermes to bypass a traffic jam. The Master of Chaldea.

I didn’t see much of him, during our failed attempt at a welcoming party last night. But what I did see… what little I saw of him reminded me of Sigmund. Driven and half-mad. Significantly less impressive facial hair, though, although it is kind of hard to top the guy whose moustache functions as a Noble Phantasm.

Well, the similarities probably become less striking once you get to know him, and I do hope that I’ll actually get to introduce myself to him the next time we meet. He just brushed us off when we set up that welcoming party. I mean, I do understand, I heard from Siduri that he had a very trying day, but still, it was a bit hurtful, even if I’m sure he didn’t mean it that way.

Soon, I’m back in the ziggurat. (I did stop to help a few people, which slowed me down a bit.) King Gilgamesh is already at it, lines bearing countless petitions to him, which he reviews himself.

“Perseus.” He glares at me. “You’re late.”

“Oh, well, I was making good time, but there was a cat-“

“Save it. I’ll need you back on the ADF. We’re anticipating another assault within the next two months.”

“Will the beasts’ bitch of goddess be showing her face?” Diomedes growls as he steps into the room, his face split into a feral grin. “I’ve been wanting to take a stab at her.”

“No, Berserker. Merlin has deemed that unlikely.”

I clear my throat. “Um… will Merlin be joining us today?”

“No. He’s been formulating plans to deal with a separate issue since yesterday afternoon,” the King says. “Now, you are free to meet with Chaldea before you leave. They will…”

“My King!” Siduri shouts as she runs into the throne room, sweating and panting. She looks utterly terrified. “Chaldea- Chaldea-“

“Siduri!” Gilgamesh bellows, rising to his feet and steadying her. “What happened?”

“Chaldea left.”

The room goes silent. I think that particular revelation caught even Gilgamesh by surprise. Eventually, he breaks the silence, his voice more subdued than I’ve ever heard him. “What?”

“Chaldea left,” Siduri repeats. “when I gave them their work order, they took it as an insult and stormed out.”

“I see.” Gilgamesh makes his way back to his throne and sits down hard. “Then we will make do without them.”

I’m not sure even he believes that. From the start, the plan was always to hold out until Chaldea arrived. They were the cavalry, and now? Now they were here, and they’d deserted us.

“Perseus.” I snap to attention as my King looks at me. “I have changed your assignment. You will seek out Chaldea, in the guise of a traveler. In that same guise, you will feed them information. Even if they will not work with us, I will not have them blunder around in ignorance. Try to direct them towards Kutha, and the jungle to the south.”

“Sir, Odysseus still hasn’t reported back in since we sent him there,” I remind him.

“I doubt that he would allow himself to die so easily,” Gilgamesh insists, with a negligent wave of his hand. “And the same applies to Chaldea. If they are above proving themselves to me, then surely such obstacles are beneath them.”

“If you say so, sir.”

“Afterwards, you will return to me, and tell me what you have observed of Chaldea.”

“Understood.”

And then I’m off.

---​

It takes me two days to find the Chaldeans. When I do, they’ve set up camp a ways away from Mt. Ebih, so I land, switch over to the traveller’s disguise I made sure to bring with me, and walk up to them on foot.

“Hallo the camp!” I shout, prompting a brief commotion as the Servants draw their weapons. “I mean no harm, I simply wondered if you were willing to share a meal with a weary wanderer!”

“You’re welcome to join us!” the Master of Chaldea calls after a brief deliberation.

I join them at the campfire, and they pour me a bowl of stew.

“This is good,” I note, after I’ve had a taste or two. “What’s it called?”

“Urdimmu stew,” my host says, utterly deadpan, before smirking as I spit-take. “So, may I ask if this weary wanderer has a name?”

“I’m-“ shit, can’t give him my real name. Persi? No, too similar. Ah, screw it. What was the name of that one-eyed traveler in the story Sigmund tried to tell me that one time? “Gagngrad.”

The Master of Chaldea raises an eyebrow. “Well, then. Tell me Gagngrad, since on the hall-floor you wish to test your skill, what brings you to this place?”

“Oh, just a love of travel,” I say blithely looking askance at him. Seriously, why is he talking so weird all of a sudden? “May I ask your name?”

“Charles Flynn,” he says, looking a bit disappointed. “So, mind telling me what you know about the region? Since you seem to be rather knowledgeable.”

From there, he picks my brains for every detail I can give him. I slip up once or twice, but I don’t think he noticed.

“Well, it certainly sounds like we should head to the jungles of Eridu, then,” he says at last.

“What’s this about Eridu?” the goddess Ishtar asks us as she flies into the camp, and I try my damnedest not to shit myself.

“Oh, Gagngrad here was just telling me about the jungle that’s sprung up around Eridu, and I thought that perhaps we should pay it a visit to see what we can see.” Flynn smiles at me. “Isn’t that right, Gagngrad?”

“Um… yes,” I manage, trying not to stare at Ishtar as I sweat bullets. A goddess. Flynn recruited a goddess. I’ve got to tell Gilgamesh. “But I really have to get going now. People to see, places to be. Thank you for the stew.” And then I book it, my sandals sprouting wings once I’m out of their view.

Gilgamesh must be told.

 

‘His sandals sprouted wings,’ Cursed Arm informs me over the mental link after ‘Gagngrad’ leaves our line of sight.

I sigh and press the twenty into Holmes’ waiting palm. “You were right, he was Perseus.”

“Well, obviously. I don’t know why you were so intent on believing he was Odin. He had two eyes, after all.”

“Wishful thinking, I’m afraid,” I say with a shake of my head. “In any case, he was still rather helpful.”

“Um, Flynn? What are you talking about?” Ishtar asks.

“Just an obvious spy who gave away more information than we gave him,” I tell her. “In any case, milady, how would you feel about beginning our investigations in the jungle of Eridu?”

“Eh, as good a place as any,” she says with a shrug.

And so, it’s decided.

 

‘I still can’t believe Ishtar ditched us like that,’ Galahad grumbles, pushing leading the way through the muggy, exotic jungle with his shield raised. I follow behind him, and Georgios watches my back. My other Servants are in Astral Form at the moment, with Cursed Arm serving as our lookout. And Ishtar, well, like Galahad himself said, Ishtar left when we got to the jungle. Apparently she had to go search for something, although she wasn’t very clear on what.

‘I can,’ I say with a grin. ‘In the words of Cicero, when setting out on an endeavor, give lavish praise and many prayers to the gods. When in the middle of an operation, proceed as if they won’t help you one whit. Then, once you win, bury them in offerings, and loudly proclaim you couldn’t have done it without them.’

‘So, when she gets back, you’re kissing up to her?’ Galahad asks, looking annoyed.

‘Yes, because she’s the heaviest hitter our entire side has got, and is notoriously temperamental.’

‘I still think this is a bit blasphemous,’ Galahad grumbles, returning to pushing forward.

I don’t reply. Honestly, though, having to deal with Ishtar has actually strengthened my faith in God. After all, if she can exist, why can’t He? And quite frankly, I’d much rather worship Him. He is far better than the alternatives.

‘Master,’ Cursed Arm sends to me. ‘We are being watched.’

‘Potential hostile?’ I restrain myself from scanning the treeline, instead directing the astralized Siegfried, Medea, and Cu to do so. Holmes pulled a vanishing act last night and hasn’t been responding to my hails. I can only assume he’s pulling his usual undercover routine.

‘Quite likely.’

‘Any idea who it is?’ I ask, before a sudden noise interrupts me.

The trees are shaking. The great branches which seal away the sun are swaying as something leaps between them, some unseen beast of the canopy drawing nearer, until it slams down in front of us, then stands tall, a exuding the presence of a great cat, strong, savage, and free.

And then the dust clears, and the effect is completely ruined.

“Behold!” the ginger in the catsuit proclaims, extending her bizarre, catspaw spear as if it’s the scepter of a king. “I am… hold on, what am I?”

“Embarrassing?” I offer, feeling a deep sense of annoyance. Seriously, is she part of the Three Goddess Alliance? If Gilgamesh has been getting his ass kicked by our janitor, than I might just… well, I already lost pretty much all my respect for him when he mismanaged us, but losing to Jaguarman might just do the impossible and lower my opinion of him even further.

“I mean, my fur is orange, but… I’m not a tiger!” Jaguarman exclaims, still caught in her digression. “I’m a jaguar! A very orange Jaguar! Even if my coat is a little off, I’m still the invincible beast of the jungle that all men fear! So bow down mortals, because you stand before the mighty (slightly orange) Jaguarman!”

She strikes a pose that isn’t nearly as cool as she apparently thinks it is.

‘Wow. We gonna kiss her ass too?’ Galahad asks, giving me a look.

‘I’ve done a lot of horrible things for humanity, Galahad. But even I have too much self-respect to play the appeaser to fucking Jaguarman.’ I raise a hand. ‘Siegfried, Cu, attack on my signal.’

“You have trespassed in my jungle, fool!” the most singularly disappointing war god fueled by human sacrifice that I’ve ever met proclaims, pointing her cat stick at me. “Now prepare to face my wrath!”

She lunges forwards, and CU intercepts, with Siegfried joining in a second later.

She’s fast, but Cu is faster. The problem is, though, she has Instinct like Arthur’s, which is letting her keep up with Cu in spite of his superior speed, and her Monstrous Strength is letting her match his Strength. Not to mention, we’re in her home turf, so her Jaw of the Dark Jungle skill is active.

The fight would be an even one. But Siegfried is here.

Ever since the disastrous fight against Lancelot back in the Jerusalem Singularity, I made sure to have my Servants train together, so that they would be familiar enough with each others’ fighting styles to properly gang up on tough opponents. And it’s paying off in spades. Cu and Siegfried aren’t tripping each other up anymore. Indeed, they’re complimenting each other. Siegfried is flanking her, allowing him and Cu to strike from both sides, with Siegfried’s powerful, sweeping strokes forcing her to dodge into Cu’s thrusts. A maneuver they practiced for quite some time.

She’s in checkmate and she knows it. While she’s slightly faster than Siegfried, she’s also slightly slower than Cu, and the two heroes are coordinating perfectly. If she aims to avoid Cu, she falls into Siegfried’s attacks. If she tries to avoid Siegfried, Cu will get her.

I can’t track the fight, they’re going too fast for my eyes to follow, but it’s evident that Jaguarman is losing. Even if she’s avoided being killed through Instinct and Luck alone, the cuts and shaves from her various near misses are adding up. Soon, she’ll be-

I hear a growl from behind me, and Galahad immediately pulls me behind him as the werejaguars attack, one of their clubs missing my skull by inches.

Shit. Of course she has minions. I turn back to the fight, and, sure enough, she’s already gone. In the split second where both Cu and Siegfried were distracted by the attempt on my life, she made a break for it.

‘Do you want me to pursue?’ Cu asks.

‘Negative. This is her territory. Chasing after her will only cause problems.’ She’s a jaguar, after all. They’re nothing if not excellent ambush predators. Speaking of, we should probably try to complete our investigation and get out before nightfall. This entire jungle will be her stalking ground once the sun sets. ‘Return and help us dispose of her minions. We’re going to press on, and then retreat before the sun gets too low.’

‘Understood.’

---

Our investigation bears little fruit, at least until an hour later, when we run into an old man checking his traps.

“Hello.” He seems remarkably unperturbed to be approached by a band of oddly dressed strangers in the middle of the jungle. “Would you lot be visitors from Uruk?”

Eh. Let’s just go with that. “We are, yes. We came to determine the situation in the jungle that’s sprung up. And how the situation might be mended.”

“Hm. Well, you’re welcome to join me for a bite to eat,” the old fellow says with a smile. “My name’s Otis, by the way.”

I look at the others. ‘Think this is a trap?’

‘Maybe,’ Cu admits. ‘But now that he’s made the offer, I literally can’t turn it down.’

So, for Cu’s sake, we take Otis up on his offer.

And so, he guides us to his house, a somewhat shabby thing, checking his traps along the way.

It’s comfortable enough inside, and he immediately hurries off to start cooking, while we settle ourselves in, and I dispatch Cursed Arm to watch and make sure he doesn’t put anything in the food.

As we wait, the sun sets.

“What?” I yelp, checking the time. “It’s only 3!”

“The Jaguar must be hunting,” our host calls, as he brings out the food.

“What? What does that have to do with the sun setting at three in the afternoon in the middle of July?”

“You don’t know?” our host asks, looking surprised. “Well, I suppose that’s only natural. You’re here to find out more about the area. The Sun rules this jungle.”

“The… sun?”

“Yes. The Sun rules this jungle, and the Sun created it. The Sun set the Jaguar to guard its lands, and the Jaguar is strongest at night. So whenever the Jaguar loses during the day, she dashes off to the Sun, and begs her master to set, so that she can strike back at whoever humiliated her in the dead of night.”

That’s… worrying. Very worrying.

We dig into the stew, contemplating what we’ve been told. The news may be poor, but at least the stew is excellent.

“Honored host,” I say after a few minutes of eating in silence. “May I ask what precisely has happened in the lands of Eridu?”

“You may,” old Otis says, but before he can say anything else, there’s a knock at the door, and he pales. “Oh dear. I’ll have to get this.”

The door swings open the second he unlatches it, slamming the poor man into the wall, as Jaguarman bursts in. “OTIS! Feed me!”

She doesn’t seem to notice us, instead focusing in on Otis. “I can smell the stew, so fork it over!”

“Lady Jaguar,” Otis gasps out as he pulls himself up. “I must beg you to leave for tonight. I have already invited guests over, and I cannot feed both them and you. I cannot be host to you tonight. Indeed, if I do not eat tonight, and eat in full, without you stealing the lion’s share of my food, I may not be able to hunt tomorrow.”

“But it’s so yummy,” she whines, giving him puppy dog eyes. “Just kick out your other guests, and I promise that I’ll help you hunt tomorrow!”

“Please!” Otis begs. “To mistreat my guests would offend the very gods!”

“And not feeding me would offend this goddess in particular,” Jaguarman snarls. “Look, I’ll kick them out for you, how about that.” She turns to us, and then freezes, a sudden, predatory gleam in her eye. “Well, I was out to boot these intruders out of my jungle anyways. Guess this is a win-win for me.”

“Lady Jaguar, please do not attack my guests!” Otis begs, as I begin covertly readying my Servants for combat. “We can still resolve this peacefully!”

“How so?” I ask, deciding to play along.

“I propose a contest,” Otis says, which seems to get Jaguarman’s attention as our unassuming old host hurries over to the wall and gets down a curved bow. “Both of you take turns trying to string the bow. Whoever succeeds in stringing it will be my guest for the night. The loser, on the other hand, will have to leave, and not trouble the victor in the slightest.”

This… seems familiar.

“Alright, that’s easy!” Jaguarman cheers, grinning ear-to-ear. “I’m going first, of course!”

She grabs the bow, and the string, and starts to pull it down. And she fails. She can’t get the bowstring down more than halfway, no matter how hard she struggles.

Finally, she rounds on our host. “This game is rigged! Stringing this thing is impossible!”

“It most certainly is not,” Otis says. “There’s a trick to it, actually.”

As he bends down to show us how it’s done, my sense of déjà vu intensifies. Seriously, why is this so-

The bow is strung, and royal Odysseus stands tall and unbowed once more.

-damn… familiar… Holy shit.

As Jaguarman reels, as deeply in shock as I am right now, the newly revealed King of Ithaca grins. “ἐπιςτροφή τοῦ Ὀδυσσẻως!”

Okay, that was clearly a Noble Phantasm, but I have no idea what it- My Command Seals are gone. So is Jaguarman’s spear. And all of my Servants’ weapons.

“What the-“ is all Jaguarman manages to get out, before the mighty bow thrums, and an arrow sinks into her skull, quickly followed by another. And another. And another, and another, and another, and another…

At twenty arrows, though, Odysseus stops shooting her, and lets her dissolve, before he turns to us. “So, honored guests from Chaldea, shall we resume our feast, and discuss our mutual foes?”

And, under the eyes of one of my childhood heroes, staring at the glowing motes that are all that’s left of the war goddess he just killed, I can’t find a single thing to say.

“Sure. You got any salt?” asks Galahad, who suffers no such impediment.