How I Saved History (Fate/Grand Order SI)

One melee weapon that shoots fuck-off huge lasers is perfectly acceptable. Two is just silly, and leaves you wondering just how many Noble Phantasms Arthur has. I spent half of the Camelot Singularity pondering that particular question. After a certain point I started wondering if Artoria owned anything that wasn't a Noble Phantasm.

"Oh, those slippers of yours? Harfradderafferadn, the Bunny Slippers of Promised Foot-Warming. They make sure your feet are warm on cold nights."

"Using lasers."

"Using lasers, yes."

"And my cloak?"

"Oh, that's Gadderawferaddd, the Mantle of Perfect Kingship. It ensures that none may doubt your righteous and benevolent rule."

"Using lasers."

"Well, obviously, how else do you prove that you're king?"

"BY RULING JUSTLY!"

"Pffft. No. Lasers are definitely the way to go."

"Is there anything I own THAT DOESN'T SHOOT LASERS?"

"Well, there's Prydwen."

"That's a shield that turns into a boat. It doesn't count."

"Also, your armor doesn't have a point-defense laser system yet, but I'm working on it."

The Very Next Day.

"Hey, Merlin, this is my new dog Cavall. He's perfectly normal in every way, and doesn't shoot lasers."

"Huh, I'll get right on fixing that."

"NO! FUCK YOU, MERLIN, DON'T YOU DARE RUIN THIS FOR ME!"

 

“I don’t actually know much about the goddess at the heart of the jungle,” Odysseus explains over dinner. “I do, however, know that she’s some sort of sun goddess. And, obviously, that she’s Aztec. The building style of her temple confirms that.”

“Hm. That leaves us with five possibilities,” I observe, beginning to count things off on my fingers. “The first would be Tezcatlipoca, who I’d consider the most likely candidate, in light of Jaguarman’s presence. The second would be Quetzalcoatl, who’s easily the least likely of all the candidates, simply because I can’t imagine him working with a servant of his sworn enemy. Third would be a rain god I can’t remember the name of for the life of me, and the fourth would be said forgettable rain god’s wife, Mixan- Mixanshi- Mixancootie- Misty. I’m calling her Misty, because I don’t have nearly enough practice to actually pronounce her name. Fifth would be the Aztecs’ primary god, Huitzilopochtli.”

“Why on earth would anyone need five sun gods?” Cu asks, looking bewildered. “You’d think that one would be enough.”

Odysseus actually laughs at that one. “Eh. I can see it. Gods tend to multiply. I had to give offerings to fourteen different gods of marriage, childbirth, and fertility just to make sure I didn’t offend anybody when I was marrying off Telemachus.”

Georgios smirks, but doesn’t say anything, and I discreetly fist-bump him.

“Well, in any case,” I say, after my brief moment of basking in the financial perks of monotheism. “That’s not exactly what happened. Basically, the Aztecs believed that there were five ages of the world, and that they lived in the fifth age. In each of those ages, there was a different god in charge of being the sun. In the previous four ages, humanity was completely exterminated by the gods, purposefully or otherwise, and had to be brought back by Quetzalcoatl.”

There’s a moment of dead silence around the table.

“What?” Siegfried asks, looking slightly nauseous.

“The Aztecs weren’t a cheerful people,” I say, in what might be history’s greatest understatement. “In any case, I’d say that we’re most likely facing off against Texcatlipoca, the god of darkness, jaguars, and sorcery. He was the first sun, and, seeing as he played a part in all four of the times humanity was wiped out, I can easily see him as part of the Alliance. Also, Jaguarman was one of his servants, so that would definitely seem to confirm his presence.”

“Hm. So. How do we kill him?” Odysseus asks, cutting straight to the important questions.

“Now that is the million-dollar question,” I say, leaning back in my seat. “And, quite frankly, I don’t want to jump into this too early. We have the advantage of surprise, at the moment. We should take our time and figure out our enemy’s weak points.” I pause. “I’ll also want a second opinion on this whole mess, so once we finish our meal, I’m calling in Caesar.”

“True. I suppose we should decide our strategy in a proper conference.”

After dinner’s over, we send Siegfried back to Chaldea (which he’s a good sport about) and call in Caesar. Frankly, I would’ve preferred to bench Holmes, as he’s been fairly secretive and unhelpful for most of the Singularity thus far, but he’s still off working undercover, so that’s a wash.

And now, after we’ve cleared the table, we settle around it, ready to come up with a plan.

“Alright. Before we go into how to kill Tezcatlipoca, I think we should take a step back, and determine whether we should.”

“What?” Odysseus asks, looking confused. “He’s the enemy, Flynn.”

“He’s not speaking of moral concerns,” Caesar interjects, looking at me. “He’s referring to the bigger picture, and the broader war. Isn’t that right, Flynn?”

“Exactly.” I say with a grin. “Teacher, could you provide us with a map?”

Medea nods, and, in a wave of purple, the table’s surface is transmuted into a map of the region.

Cu groans. “All right, I’m out. Strategy is not my thing. I’ll be standing guard outside if you need me.”

Kinda saw that one coming.

“So. As Caesar said, let’s look at the bigger picture. I’ve screwed up by killing a sun-affiliated demigod before, I don’t want to see the fallout if I rush into killing a full-on sun deity.” I tap on Uruk. “This, as far as we can tell, is the Three Goddess Alliance’s primary objective. They destroy Uruk and kill Gilgamesh, and they win. Humanity’s destroyed, or re-enslaved, or what-have-you. Bad news all around.” I look at my audience, and then smile. “So, the question presents itself: Why hasn’t that happened already? Gilgamesh is badly outnumbered, and two-thirds god or not, he’s still just a mortal. If they really wanted to, they could just kill him in his sleep, or coordinate an attack from both sides on the ADF.”

“You’re saying that their alliance isn’t as clear-cut as it seems,” Odysseus summarizes. “Because they aren’t working together or aiding each other in any way.”

“Exactly. They may outnumber us, but they’re clearly a house divided.” I smirk. “It actually brings to mind your old Triumvirate, Caesar.”

“I suppose that the parallels are fairly clear,” Caesar says with a sigh. “And why do you bring this up?”

“Because it also reminded me of Plutarch’s Life of Pompey.” That gets a few blank stares. “More specifically, this one line: ‘Before, they had stood like three wrestlers, each unwilling to engage another, for fear that, should he triumph, the third wrestler would overcome him, tired from his exertions as he was. But now, Crassus was dead, and the fresh wrestler had fallen, and the two that remained circled about one another, ready to engage.’”

“I don’t think that was entirely accurate,” Galahad observes.

“Yeah, I probably mangled it. It’s been a while since I’ve read Plutarch. But the sentiment remains.”

“So.” Caesar gives me an appraising look. “How do you propose to take advantage of this?”

“Our adversaries think that they’re the only three wrestlers in the ring. But they’re wrong. We are the fourth wrestler. This war will be decided not by who wins the most fights, but by who fights the least. To win, we have to pit our foes against each other, to the greatest extent we possibly can.”

“Well put, Flynn,” Odysseus says with a nod of acknowledgement. “Now, what do you propose that we do?”

I manfully contain my urge to squeal like a little girl, and continue in a calm, professional tone. “If we’re going to pit them against one another, we’ll need more information. To that end, I move that we wait and observe, try to get an idea of the personalities in play, and the weaknesses they have. No jumping in headfirst. Anyone have any objections?”

I get smiles and nods from my audience. “Good. Then we start by observing Tezcatlipoca, and then we pull what threads we find.”

 

Observation duty is swiftly established. After Cursed Arm’s initial successes, we begin a proper infiltration. When Holmes returns, I send him straight back to Chaldea, and bring out Yan Qing in his stead. Chaldea’s chivalrous bandit is then sent in to infiltrate our enemy’s ranks, disguised as a mere soldier. Georgios is likewise swapped out for our trump card. We didn’t get to use him back in Camelot, but I doubt that’ll hold true in the battles to come.

He might seem like a weak Servant, but William Shakespeare is absolutely deadly with the right direction.

Still, our observation swiftly uncovers the jungle goddess’ routine. She does lucha.

That’s literally it, all she does is lucha! When she’s not participating in matches, she’s training her force in the art of lucha (which I consider a poor sign for her strategic prowess,) or conscripting more men for her luchador army (which does not have the makings of a halfway effective fighting force.)

But it’s what she doesn’t do that’s most informative. She doesn’t kill her soldiers. She doesn’t eat their hearts. Instead, she nurtures them, without asking for anything in return.

I was way off the mark. She’s Quetzalcoatl. No ifs or buts about it.

Unfortunately, she also doesn’t give away much about the dynamics of the Three Goddess Alliance. At least, not until the seventh day of our observation.

---

I’m at lunch when Cursed Arm reports to me that Quetzalcoatl has a new visitor.

I don’t waste time.

“Medea! Target’s receiving a visitor, I want eyes on the meeting stat, and your best analysis of his mana signature.”

She nods, eager for something to break the monotony, and pretty soon we’re all gathered around the scrying pool. After a week of sitting and gathering intel, we were all going a little stir-crazy.

“Roman, are you scanning them?”

“Absolutely. We’ll have our preliminary report soon.”

And so, we settle down and watch the meeting.

Almost immediately, a problem emerges.

“Um, Medea, is there a way to get sound on this?”

“Not one that I can use without them noticing,” my teacher says, watching the meeting attentively.

From what I can see of the meeting, it’s a tense one. While they both put up cheerful facades, they’re clearly on guard around each other. Of course, we’re limited to body language and half-assed lip reading for the purpose of figuring out what the meeting’s about. All Yang can tell me is that he overheard that the Jolly Green Jackass here’s name is Kingu.

“He has a Holy Grail,” Roman tells us, halfway into the meeting. “Our readings have definitively confirmed the presence of a Holy Grail inside him.”

“Oh.” Now it’s obvious. “He’s the mastermind.”

Shakespeare raises an eyebrow. “And how have you come to that conclusion, oh Master mine?”

“Firstly, the Holy Grail. Previously, we’ve only found the tainted grails in the hands of the masterminds of the various Singularities we’ve visited. Seeing as he’s the only one in the Three Goddess Alliance we’ve seen who has one so far, it’s pretty clear that he’s the main mover behind our enemies. Secondly, this is obviously a check-in visit. We haven’t seen him here before, and he’s obviously not here to stay, so why is he visiting?”

“Because he’s either the one behind the Three Goddess Alliance, or the one serving as the various members’ point of contact,” Caesar notes, picking up the thread. “So. What do you propose we do about this?”

I grin. “We interrogate him, of course.”

“Flynn, the readings we’re picking up from him are ridiculous,” Roman interrupts, looking at a tablet. “He’s not like any other Heroic Spirit we’ve seen before. In fact, he’s-“

“Enkidu?” Ishtar asks, making everyone jump. I look over at her in shock, wondering just when, exactly, she came in. “I leave you for a week, and I come back to find you spying on Enkidu? Why the hell is he even alive?”

“Ah. Milady. It is a pleasure to bask in your presence once more. May I ask where you have been?”

“Oh, well, I went off searching for… something important… and then I got a bit sidetracked, had to win my underwear back from a demon in a competitive board game night, but that’s not important! Why is Enkidu there?”

“He seems to be going by ‘Kingu’ now, milady.” I maintain my polite demeanor while mentally slotting her into my now-developing plans. “We believe him to be the primary coordinator of the Three Goddess Alliance, and we’re most likely going to torture him until he tells us everything he knows about the Alliance, and then kill him. Would you care to join us?”

Ishtar freezes, staring at me in shock. Pretty much everyone is, with the exceptions of Medea, who’s snickering, and Shakespeare, who’s furiously taking notes.

“Wh-What?” the goddess of love and war finally asks, her voice little more than a whisper.

“We will interrogate him by whatever means are necessary, using truth detection runes to verify his answers. Since he is our only lead as to the Alliance’s coordination and hierarchy, we’ll need to extract whatever information we can from him. Since he’s also likely the man behind the Alliance, his death is also an unavoidable necessity.” I look around at them. “Why are you all looking at me like that?”

“Flynn is correct, regardless of how disconcertingly casual he’s being about this,” Caesar says after a moment. “We’ll need to get as much as we possibly can out of him before we kill him.”

“I- You’re insane!” Ishtar finally snaps. “Enkidu was someone who could go up against me and actually give me pause! Do you really think that you can deal with him that easily?”

“Easily? No. But I do believe it to be possible. I’ve been working on how to take down the various goddesses of the Alliance since we arrived in this Singularity. I wouldn’t still be here if I didn’t think those plans could work.”

“That’s…” she pauses, looking at me with something I can’t identify in her eyes. “You believe that you can do this?”

“Yes.”

“Then this will be my test for you. Prove that you are worthy to stand beside a goddess.”

I nod. “As you command, my lady.”

Roman coughs, and the moment’s over. “Um… I hate to interrupt, but he’s kind of headed straight towards you.”

“What?”

“I think he sensed you somehow,” Roman says apologetically. “He’ll be there in ten minutes, so I recommend that you get going.”

“Absolutely not!” I say with a grin. “Ten minutes is plenty of time. Shakespeare, Medea, you know what to do. I’ll hand out the scripts.”

This is going to be fun.