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How I Saved History (Fate/Grand Order SI)

Discussion in 'Creative Writing' started by Charles Flynn, Apr 22, 2020.

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  1. Darko

    Darko Versed in the lewd.

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    So the reunion between the two would be like a high school reunion, but with a lot more death and stabbing than usual.
     
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  2. Charles Flynn

    Charles Flynn Know what you're doing yet?

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    Sort of, but a bit more passive aggressive than that. It's like a high school reunion where you come back from the dead and find out that the guy you always sat across from at lunch and were on generally good terms with flipped his shit and launched a violent coup to overthrow the government while you were dead.
     
  3. the guy

    the guy Getting sticky.

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    You said fith singularity in the chapter while london is fourth, america is fith.
     
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  4. Charles Flynn

    Charles Flynn Know what you're doing yet?

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    That's actually an in-universe error on their part, and one I was kind of waiting for somebody to notice.

    Because their sensors aren't yet strong enough to penetrate into the Age of the Gods, they haven't detected the Babylonia Singularity yet. As a result, they assumed that Fuyuki was the First Singularity.
     
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  5. the guy

    the guy Getting sticky.

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    I was wondering about that too! Thanks for clearing that up.
     
  6. Threadmarks: Chapter 89
    Charles Flynn

    Charles Flynn Know what you're doing yet?

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    "Flynn? You there?" Roman asks over the comms. "Our sensors are being suppressed for some reason. We can't pick up anything outside of you."

    "I'm here. Alive and well." I call in confirmation, looking over my Servants. "My away team, too."

    "Good," Roman sighs, his holographic form slumping down a bit. "So. What do you see?"

    "Well, I knew that the weather here was shit, but I never realized it was this bad." I joke, looking about. "The fog's thick as pea soup, and it smells... well, wrong. Feels a bit off, too. Galahad, you got anything?"

    "I-" a woman screams off in the distance, and suddenly there's an iron grip around my wrist, dragging me off towards the imperiled lady at the speed of a runaway locomotive.

    Jesus Christ! I think he just dislocated my arm!

    Finally, I'm released, and slam into the Shielder's mighty back as he skids to a halt, shield out before him, incidentally slamming into a small body and sending them flying in the process.

    I then crumple into an agonized heap, as Galahad, that son of a bitch, completely ignores me to look over a lump on the ground, which I know realize is a woman. Who's apparently been stabbed.

    "Damnation. We didn't get here in time," Galahad says as he looks her over, gently closing her eyes. "She's dead."

    "That's sad and all, but what the actual Hell, Galahad?" I growl, then wince as I jostle my shoulder.

    He looks back almost guiltily, suddenly seeming to remember I'm here. "Ah. My apologies, Flynn. I heard a damsel in distress, and could do no less than rush to her aid."

    "Why'd you drag me along?" I ask. "You dislocated my shoulder, Galahad."

    "Oh. Well, I deduced that the fog is toxic, and if we were separated, you would most likely perish," he recounts. "Thus, I had to bring you with me."

    "And you couldn't have just stayed where we were?" I snap, keenly aware of the fact that I'm separated from my other Servants, now.

    "There was a damsel in distress." Galahad notes, as if the idea of just not helping her is utterly inconceivable. "But I will admit that I acted on instinct. I'm.... sorry, Flynn."

    He apologizes like it physically pains him.

    "Fine. Just relocate my shoulder, and then help me find the others."

    He steps up and... I scream as it snaps back into place, and my entire world turns into pain.

    "Unhand that woman, fiend!" a strident voice bellows. Galahad's up on his feet in an instant, his shield at the ready.

    A horned, imposing outline is just barely visible through fog, and armored footsteps draw ever closer.

    "Bold words from one of unknown intent," Galahad replies, his face fierce. "I know you not, good sir, but your shape belies a dark nature."

    "Me the sinister one?" the figure scoffs. "Wretched harridan, I find you besides the body of one victim, and in the midst of raising your hands against another! Never shall I yield my name to a blackguard so unworthy of the honor!"

    "Foul villain, recant your words, or taste my-" Galahad stops as the figure comes fully into view. "Sir Mordred? What the devil are you doing here?"

    "'Tis only fitting that you should know me at a sight, fiend." the freshly identified Knight of the Round Table boasts, his surprisingly high-pitched voice laden with smugness. "For I am Mordred, heir of Arthur, and the King's only equal, bane of the wicked and unjust, and I shall be your doom."

    "Mordred, it's me, Galahad."

    The armored figure stops dead in his tracks, and the helmet slides away, revealing a fairly effeminate-looking blond. "Nice try, mate, but Galahad wasn't a woman."

    "Neither were you, last time I checked."

    "Oi, fuck off!"

    "But, yes, the body's a new development, and hopefully a temporary one."

    Mordred snorts. "Well, fine then, 'Sir Galahad,' if you're who you say you are, then tell me what happened when we set off on the Grail Quest together."

    "Your horse got spooked and tossed you into a tree, at which point a beehive fell on you and covered you in honey and angry bees. Then the bears showed up, and..."

    "Okay! That's enough!" Mordred snaps, flushing in embarrassment. "I believe you."

    "Finally."

    "So..." they stand there for a minute or two, staring awkwardly at each other. "How'd all that happen?" he points at Galahad's borrowed bust.

    "Long story. You got a base around here?"

    "Yeah, there's this one guy I'm crashing with."

    "Neat. Get me and my Master there, and I'll tell you the whole story."

    "Wait, he's a guy?" Mordred asks incredulously.

    "Yeah, he just screams like a little girl." Galahad explains with a grin.

    I power through the pain enough to flip him off, and then promptly pass out.
     
  7. Darko

    Darko Versed in the lewd.

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    How does Charlie look exactly, I don't think we ever got a good description of his physical appearance?
     
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  8. Charles Flynn

    Charles Flynn Know what you're doing yet?

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    Around 5'6", bit stocky but not exactly overweight, and broad at the shoulders. Fairly broad face, dotted with acne scars, and some severely unkempt hair that he only shaves/has cut every three months, although in order to establish proper ethos and a professional demeaner, he's moved that up to a weekly basis since the Incineration began.

    He also has several scars (more since the Grand Order began.)

    He's not exactly bad-looking, but he usually doesn't pay any attention to his appearance. That's changed since the Order began.

    Mordred mistook him for a girl because she didn't actually get a good look at him, and just heard him screaming.
     
  9. Reality_Impact

    Reality_Impact Abyssal Lurker

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    As a male with a usually deep voice I understand Charlie's predicament. Oh, hey, Galahad and Mordred are really good friends who knew.
     
  10. Charles Flynn

    Charles Flynn Know what you're doing yet?

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    Mordred was actually one of the few knights of the Round Table that Galahad actually liked and didn't dismiss as a raging hypocrite.

    Although the whole "killed the king and ruined everything" bit has put a bit of a strain on that friendship.
     
  11. Threadmarks: Chapter 90
    Charles Flynn

    Charles Flynn Know what you're doing yet?

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    I wake up on a couch in a fairly opulent room.

    "Oh, good, you're back with us," Galahad comments from where he sits besides me. "You really do make a habit of dramatically fainting at inconvenient times, don't you?"

    "Well, we are in Victorian London," I comment. "When in Rome..."

    "So you're wearing a corset?" Galahad snarks.

    "I mean, you're wearing heels, it's not like you've got much room to judge."

    "I am not-" he looks down at his borrowed feet. "Oh God, I'm wearing heels."

    "Yep."

    "How have I been keeping my balance through all those fights? I've never worn heels in my life! My entire combat style should have been completely turned topsy turvy by these things! Hell, I'm pretty sure that these didn't even exist during my lifetime! WHY ARE THEY HERE?"

    "I dunno, but maybe they work like with a centipede: they work as long as you're not thinking about it."

    He turns to glare balefully at me. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

    "Little bit."

    "I could kill you, you know."

    "I know."

    "Thousand different ways, you wouldn't see it coming."

    "I know."

    "Just here one second and- BAM! -gone the next."

    "I know."

    "Just making sure you remembered that I could do it."

    "But you wouldn't."

    "Of course not, where on Earth would I find someone as singularly enjoyable to mock as you?" he grins, and then starts to get up. "I'll go tell Mordred and the Doctor you're awake."

    He takes two steps and promptly falls flat on his face.

    "You thought about it, didn't you?"

    "Fuck off, Flynn."

    ---​

    While Galahad's gone, I take the opportunity to try and contact my Servants.

    'Calling all Servants, please respond as soon as you are able.'

    I get a chorus of responses. Seems that all of them are still out there, at least.

    'Whoever's been in charge since we were separated, speak up. I want a report on what you've been up to.'

    'That would be me, Master.' Caesar reports, his voice stern and stoic. ' After Galahad ran off with you, it took us a moment to marshal ourselves and chase after you. Unfortunately, these damn streets are a maze, and Galahad had a head start. Coupled with the fog lowering visibility and dampening magical trails, we were unable to follow. Our progress was further hindered by the fact that, as we pursued, we ran into several strange automata, and mechanical swordsmen, along with bizarre human-shaped white lumps, all of which were extremely hostile.'

    'Were they a serious threat?' I ask, concerned. If these things could give Servants trouble, I can only imagine what they'd do to the average Londoner.

    'No, not in the slightest. But I don't doubt they could kill your average inhabitant of the city in a heartbeat.' He laughs. ' Honestly the thing that's been giving us the most trouble was how the fog blocks us from sensing you, and the street plan seems to have been designed by a monkey on drugs. Nothing like a proper Roman colony.'

    'Well, London was a Roman colony, actually.' I correct, slightly surprised he didn't remember. 'You should know that, because I'm fairly certain that you founded it.'

    'Don't be ridiculous, Flynn. I would never be so crass as to found such an utter cesspool of poor urban planning.' Caesar snorts. 'It's worse than Rome, for Jove's sake! The Roman street map was bad enough once, Flynn! No Roman worth their salt would ever permit such an atrocity against proper traffic management to occur a second time.'

    Okay, did he seriously not figure it out? 'Caesar, London is Londinium.'

    I think I heard a record scratch. 'Londinium? MY Londimium? My nice and orderly Londinium? This atrocity towards urban planning is my Londinium?'

    'Yep.'

    'WHAT HAVE THEY DONE TO MY CITY?' he roars indignantly. 'My nice, orderly, beautiful Londinium, turned into this sprawling atrocity against proper urban planning? My beautiful street map, mutated into this overgrown tangle? CRUCIFIXIONS FOR EVERYONE! ESPECIALLY WHOEVER PUT IN ALL THE MOTHERFUCKING CUL DE SACKS! I DON'T KNOW IF YOU THINK YOU'RE FUNNY, BUT BELIEVE YOU ME, THERE WILL BE A GREAT DEAL OF CULLING AND SACKING OF BOTH YOUR LINE AND YOUR ESTATE WHEN I'M THROUGH WITH YOU, YOU INBRED HICK! A POX ON YOU! A POX ON YOUR ANCESTORS, AND ALL YOU BRITONS AND SAXONS AND WHOEVER THE FUCK ELSE YOUR GODSFORSAKEN TOWN BICYCLE OF AN ISLAND MANAGED TO SUCK IN!' He keeps going for quite a while in that vein, but eventually runs out of steam.

    'You done?'

    'Just about. My apologies, Master. It's been a very trying day.' he sends back, sounding honestly contrite.

    'I completely understand. So. How lost are you, right now?'

    'Very. Er... Could we just... forget about that rant of mine?'

    'What rant?'

    '... Thank you, Master.'

    'I have to sign off now, and go meet with my current hosts. I'll try to get you directions so we can meet back up.'

    'That would be greatly appreciated. Thank you, and goodbye for now, Master.'

    I grin, and return my attention to the world around me.

    There are three sets of footsteps coming down the hall, two of which have the sound of armored feet.

    Guess it's time to meet with the guy whose house I'm staying in.

    The door opens, and Galahad walks in, followed by Mordred and a fairly handsome young Victorian gentleman I don't recognize, presumably my host.

    "Oh, excellent, you really are awake." the man says without preamble. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Dr. Henry Jekyll. A pleasure to meet you."

    "Charles Flynn. Likewise." Waitasec. Hold the freaking phone. Henry Jekyll? "Wait, aren't you a fictional character?"

    "I'm... sorry?" he asks, looking utterly befuddled.

    "Dr. Henry Jekyll is a fictional character, from the story The Curious Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, by Robert Louis Stevenson." I look at him carefully. "Also, you're way too young to be the character described in the book. Jekyll was in his fifties."

    "I... I'm not sure I..." he stammers, looking as if I'd slapped him.

    "Hey! Lay off!" Mordred snaps, stepping between us. "Jekyll's a good guy, all right! I don't care about some book or whatever, he's right here, isn't he? Then he's real!"

    "Wait, you aren't a Servant?" I ask, looking at Jekyll curiously.

    "No, I'm quite alive and well." he murmurs timidly, still looking quite thoroughly uncomfortable at this line of inquiry.

    "And you haven't created the persona of Mr. Hyde?"

    "What, I- How did you-" he backs away slightly, and Mordred glares at me.

    'Flynn, drop it, you're being rude.'

    "My apologies. That was rude of me." I offer up. In hindsight, I should not have leapt straight into social interaction straight after waking up. I'm terrible at it when I haven't had time to prep myself, going at people like they're pinatas instead of ATMs.

    "I... need to go," Jekyll babbles, darting away.

    "Jekyll, wait!" Mordred calls, shooting me a dirty look before chasing after him.

    I... I really fucked that one up, didn't I?
     
  12. Silver W. King

    Silver W. King King of Adventures

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    Bravo, Charles. Social spaghetti everywhere.
     
  13. Charles Flynn

    Charles Flynn Know what you're doing yet?

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    Yep. When he latches on to something, he tends to go after it like a dog with a bone, and usually only realizes the problems he's making for himself once it's too late.

    In all honesty, he has a lot more in common with Medea than he's comfortable with.
     
  14. Delta Green

    Delta Green Know what you're doing yet?

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    I like this Caesar. He's not a buffoon.
     
  15. Charles Flynn

    Charles Flynn Know what you're doing yet?

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    Thank you. I tried my best, and it's good to know hear that I managed to get what I was going for.
     
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  16. Darko

    Darko Versed in the lewd.

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    To have such crass language come out of the mouth of the most adorable little Demi-Servant is honestly hilarious.

    Don't worry about your incomprehension of high heels Galahad, I can barely figure out how women walk in them, let alone how it's possible to fight in them.

    His little rant reminded me of this:


    Nice to see Caesars reaction to the shitty situation of Victorian England.

    Hey how is Charlie going to react when he finds out about the magic penis Merlin gave to Artoria, assuming he hasn't discovered about it already?
     
  17. Bear_Mint

    Bear_Mint Came for the lewds. Stayed for the Lewds.

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    Flynn with the social graces of a fire truck. At this point, he should accept that all the servants he meets are historically inaccurate.

    Always nice to see Galahad and Flynn banter though. Those two are like an old married couple.
     
  18. Charles Flynn

    Charles Flynn Know what you're doing yet?

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    He's already kind of accepted it, after a fashion. No historical source can ever be 100% accurate, after all.

    It's just that every blatantly historically inaccurate Servant he meets is a glaring reminder of the fact that something he devoted a good chunk of his life to was ultimately pointless, and he tends to take that poorly.
     
  19. Charles Flynn

    Charles Flynn Know what you're doing yet?

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    Charlie: "That.. explains so much, and yet creates so many more questions. Most of which are just 'Why?'"
     
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  20. Darko

    Darko Versed in the lewd.

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    In the words of Red Tornado Abridged:

    "Because magic you fucking potato"

    Also the fact that Merlin is basically half sex demon.
     
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  21. Delta Green

    Delta Green Know what you're doing yet?

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    As a fellow Historian, I agree greatly.

    ESPECIALLY FAT CAESAR.

    That one irks me personally.
     
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  22. Charles Flynn

    Charles Flynn Know what you're doing yet?

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    I know, right? Every source that describes him paints him as being the tall, thin, tactically brilliant bishonen with a fairly bad case of migraines and a burning ambition for power married to overwhelming intelligence and charisma.

    And somehow the dev team got "brilliant but lazy adipose rex" out of that. He's not my biggest problem with Septem, but he's in the top three.
     
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  23. Threadmarks: Chapter 91
    Charles Flynn

    Charles Flynn Know what you're doing yet?

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    "Way to go on getting us kicked out, Flynn," Galahad grumbles as we trudge along the streets.

    "Well, we weren't so much kicked out as politely asked to find a separate base and stay in touch by radio," I offer futilely, completely aware that yes, we were just kicked out.

    We did get a spare radio and some food supplies, along with a summary of the situation at hand before Jekyll told us to leave, so it wasn't all bad.

    We also got a direly needed street map, so I guess this whole debacle at least came out a net positive, even if I'm the one who has to carry all of our newest acquisitions.

    "So. What's the plan?" Galahad asks.

    "Well, first things first, we need a home base, and to reunite with the rest of our party." I stop, and we both duck into an alley as another of those huge, fleshy creature lumbers past. "I actually have a plan on how to do that."

    'Caesar, report.'

    'We're all alive and well, Master.'

    'What's your location?'

    ' According to the Briton we interrogated, we are in...' he hesitates, trying to remember. 'Barking.'

    And Galahad and I are still in... I look at the map and compare it to the street signs. South Kensington, bordering on the City of Westminster. Damn. Jekyll really is loaded, if he has a townhouse here.

    'Right. I've got a street map, Galahad and I will find a place to hole up in and then give you directions.'

    'Understood.'

    "All right, I'm in contact with Caesar, now all we need is a place to stay."

    "And where do you propose we find that?" Galahad asks, raising an eyebrow.

    I point to an apartment building across the street. "I say we stroll on in there, and have you kick down the door, and then introduce ourselves to the residents as the first of their new roomies."

    "That- I would never-" Galahad sputters, before composing himself. "You propose that we are to march in and force them to give us hospitality? That's..."

    "Actually fairly in keeping with the great traditions of knighthood." I interject, throwing him off his game. "After all, the weak, defenseless common folk of this fine city have no guarantee of their safety, and must live in constant fear. I, as a military commander of a unit of highly trained fighters will, should this plan go through, be settling myself among them in a position of command, offering them a measure of safety in return for their continued support of me, through the providence of food and lodging, while ensuring that they keep up their end of the bargain through the looming threat of violence." I spread my hands wide and grin. "TA-DA! Feudalism!"

    "I... you know, when you put it like that, it actually sounds terrible." Galahad says, frowning.

    "Really?" I grin. "Because that entire social model was the backbone of the Round Table, including your king. Are you saying that the entirety of your deeds and exploits, including the very legitimacy of your king, are derived from... an injustice?"

    He freezes for several seconds, before breaking into a furious streak of blistering invective directed at me and everyone responsible for my very existence, before finally subsiding to merely glaring at me. "Fine. I know you're playing me, but you're right. And dear God on high do I hate it when you're right."

    "Alright then, best buddy!" I cheer, ignoring the renewed stream of profanity from behind me. "Let's get to it! It's Breaking & Entering o'clock!"

    "Dammit, Flynn! Do not make me regret this!"

    ---​

    Galahad kicks the door down in one stroke and then enters, and I follow after him, noting the terrified family of four who live in this apartment. Looks like we interrupted their dinner, just as they were gathering around the table to eat. The plates of food fall from the mother's nerveless hands, and the father moves his two children behind him.

    "Good morning! Or possibly evening, who can tell in this weather." I grin and spread my arms dramatically as I stroll in. "We're your new roommates!"

    "Wh-what?" the father stammers, completely taken aback by our interruption.

    "Now, I know what you're thinking, 'how can these penniless, American miscreants from the streets help us pay rent?'" I continue, tossing an arm over the father's shoulder and leading him away, gesturing wildly with my left as I steer him with my right. "Well, my highly skeptical new roomie, boy do I have a pitch that'll knock your socks off!"

    "Who are you people and what are you doing in my home?" He shouts looking between us wildly.

    "Oh, allow me to introduce myself. Charles Flynn, Acting Field Commander of Chaldea. And this is my acting dumb muscle, none other than the legendary Sir Galahad!" Said dumb muscle flips me the bird. "And we are here to offer you the deal of a lifetime!"

    "You're... you're mad." he stammers.

    "Quite possibly, although to be fair, my entire family did spontaneously combust a few months back, and I really do think that'd drive just about anybody off their rocker." I admit, still leading him in laps around his family's kitchen table. "But enough about my dubious mental stability, let's talk London!" I spin him around and then sit him down in a chair. "Now, as you may have noticed, not only has the entire city been covered in an even more poisonous than usual fog of dubious chemical composition, but mass-produced murderers both mechanical and synthetic prowl the streets, searching for ever-more victims, and leaving no home, however tightly secured, a safe haven. Indeed, death stalks each and every street of this benighted city, and a man may meet his end at any second!"

    The whole family has blanched at my summary of the situation, and the mother kneels down to comfort her children as they start crying.

    "Now, I bet you're wondering, 'What does this mean for my family? Are we going to die?' And the answers to those questions are, in order, 'Bad things' and 'Probably.'" I continue, in my best old-timey announcer's voice. "But fear not! Your saviors have arrived!" Galahad quietly groans and facepalms as I strike a pose. "For the low, low, price of room and board, we, the champions of Chaldea, will continue our investigations into the Demonic Fog, and ensure your safety at all costs! Not only saving London, but also ensuring that you live to see the sun again!" I pull a chair over from the table, and then sit on it backwards, my arms folded on top of its back. "So? Whaddya say?"

    They seem to recover from their shock, and then scream and retreat from the room.

    "So, I think that went well, actually."

    "I swear to God, Flynn." he grumbles. "Did you really have to spend an hour rehearsing that stupid pitch of yours?"

    "Yep."

    He just groans and flips me off before sitting down besides me. "So, what now?"

    "We wait for them to accept our offer. You might want to keep that shield of yours handy in case the father has a gun, though." I rattle off. "And I am going to set up the radio, lay out our map, and then start giving Caesar directions."

    ---​

    "Master," Caesar calls in greeting as he walks in through the door three long, long hours later. "It's good to see you again."

    "You too," I call back from where I lie slumped over, head down on the dining table. "Come on in."

    "The inhabitants of the apartment?" he inquires, looking about.

    "Holed up in the childrens' bedroom, hoping we'll go away," Galahad answers from where he lounges on the couch, leafing through a slightly worn paperback labeled Beeton's Christmas Annual. "Not the bravest folk. Decent taste in literature, though."

    "What do you want us to do?" Caster asks from behind Caesar.

    "Some of you stand guard, and at least one of you man the radio. Caster, ward the apartment, and maybe fix the door. Saber, look over the notes I've compiled, and give me your read on the situation." I rattle off, stifling a yawn. "As for me, I'm getting some rest while I can. Galahad, get off the couch."

    "Yeah no. I got here first, and Mash's body still needs to sleep."

    "Fine. Guess I'll just steal one of the bedrooms, then. Tamamo, stand guard in case someone tries to kill me." I sigh, then give everyone a once-over. "All of you got that?"

    Nods all around, and a lazy thumbs-up from Galahad.

    "Alright, then, get to it." And with that I go looking for a guest bedroom.
     
  24. Darko

    Darko Versed in the lewd.

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    An unusual sales strategy, but we have seen unorthodox methods succeed before.

    For example:


    And in order to get your point across to someone you have to use unconventional methods.


     
    Last edited: Jun 20, 2020
  25. Ryven Razgriz

    Ryven Razgriz Know what you're doing yet?

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    Is it just me or is Flynn getting more... how do I say it... Abrasive? Aggressive? Reckless?

    He's getting worse and worse.
     
  26. Darko

    Darko Versed in the lewd.

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    He seems like his usual assholish way to me.

    Granted being sent to a fairly shitty city and then being dragged around by a superpowerful ancient knight inside the body of a pink headed girl and having your shoulder dislocated can be making him bring out more of his assholish tendencies.
     
  27. Charles Flynn

    Charles Flynn Know what you're doing yet?

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    Admittedly, he wasn't entirely thinking straight for most of his pitch. As you might've noticed back in the raid on Bath, while he's willing to perform morally dubious acts in the name of the greater good, he's also not entirely comfortable with it, and copes with it by hamming it up and playing the villain.

    After all, if he goes about it theatrically, it's not exactly like it's real.
     
  28. Me. Joka-r

    Me. Joka-r Getting some practice in, huh?

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    Wasn't the concept of chivalry kinda of after the supposed period of King Arthuria(Altria whatever)?
     
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  29. Delta Green

    Delta Green Know what you're doing yet?

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    The response of the later Carolingians to the Viking Age, actually. So... 9th to 10 century?

    The actual Charlemagne operated in a slightly less feudal and more pseudo-Roman administration way.

    In that, his Comes and Duxi could be assigned and recalled, unlike the hereditary nature of feudal titles.

    To be fair, the "local Lord/notable has posse of trained warriors to bash unruly skulls in (locals or enemies not mentioned)" was a thing since the... oh, 3rd Century Crisis thereabouts.
     
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  30. Charles Flynn

    Charles Flynn Know what you're doing yet?

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    Apparently no one told Nasu that.

    Beyond that, however, I actually have a theory about how the Human Order works. I think it might restructure the past based on the common human perception of the time. Hence why the Knights of the Round Table all ended up wearing plate instead of chainmail. Anachronisms actually make a certain amount of sense if the past itself is run like the world's most existentially horrifying version of Wikipedia.
     
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