For The Light of Humanity

 Day 3| Parade of Memories @chaldirection

“Maaaasstaaah~♫!”  The servant shuffled through. Vibrant clothes and pale hair made the Director instantly recognizable through the windows of people of the crowd.  “Maasster~!” Though it seems that inbetween the chatter on the beach, her call went unheard.  Maybe, she figured, her Master was not used to being addressed as such. Drake squeezed on closer.  They stood at the shore of the beach.  “Oooolga! There you are. I thought I lost you after we got our boats.” Boats. plural. Somehow rather than one, the pink haired villain had an arm full of them. Her tone was encouraging, this had been Drake’s silly idea to take part.  “Did you write something?”

“R-RIDER?!”

The sound of crinkling paper was barely masked by her shouting as the captain approached. The note that she glanced over feverishly as if in a trance was nearly torn to shreds in a knee-jerk reaction to the sudden appearance of her boisterous Servant. Her presence wasn’t unwelcome, but she had hoped to have sent her note off long before she had reached her again.

“I hadn’t gone far.” she muttered almost under her breath. “In the first place why do you need all of those boats?! That’s not exactly the armada I was expecting...”

A small sigh left her as she folded the paper in her hands, smoothing out the wrinkles before sticking it into her boat.

HERITAGE, LEGACY, RESPONSIBILITY: though heretics, she burdened herself with the weight of their world. It was almost… relatable in its dimensions. The patriarch’s sudden passing, the legacy left to a young heir, and bloodline setting a destiny to pave way towards a future. Opening any history book, it’d be as if copied from his own life. “WHAT A NOBLE DECISION.” There’s respect in the way he voices that, amusement too, both ever distorted. And still, it’s cold. It’s like a salute to a funeral for a service well done. 

“AND THOU WOULDST HAVE HONORED THIS WISH TOO, EVEN IF IT WERE EVIL? OR DIDST THOU COMMIT TO IT BECAUSE THOU WERT CONVINCED OF ITS GOOD NATURE?“ His words were daggers, each stab aimed with precision. Even if she only were innocent, a girl at the wrong time and place, he didn’t wish to stand up again until holding an answer worth something. If she could not say for what purpose Chaldea truly was made, he wanted to hear whether she was different from Gudao or not. “ANSWER.” An ultimatum of resolve. Commit to the way before them, an uncertain future and mistakes. Not morality, only conviction. From one question to the next, his voice was a mirror flipped to reflect his authoritarian character again. ( It was nothing different from the confrontation then. )

Everything else was. And it had been over half a year since then, so he wondered whether he would feel the same, or if even he changed.

“You’ve met Mashu Kyrielight.” was all she offered at first. If he was contracted to Chaldea’s Master, then it was inevitable, a matter of fact.

“She was a product of my father’s experiments before I arrived. Once I learned of them, I immediately had her released and shut the program down myself before making her part of my staff. Even if she came to resent me, I thought it was better than her living her life as a test subject.”

Even if her fate never truly changed, she wouldn’t sit idly by while something she couldn’t abide by happened under her nose just because her father ordered. He left Chaldea in HER hands. The facilities, personnel, and mission were left up to her discretion, and she’d see to it that it was run with that in mind. Rising from her seat, she made her position clear to the tzar about what Olga Marie Animusphere’s Chaldea stood for.

   || The voice pulled the strings of nostalgia. Delicate threads that had once been fear of Olga’s reprimand disguised themselves as strange taut relief just to hear her again. Ophelia turned her body toward the other, revealing her own late festival snack: funnel cake with extra powdered sugar. Lively indeed!   This city seemed to be a meeting place of old acquaintances and faces, even faces of those she thought lost. Ophelia tucked her hair behind her ear. Despite what she felt, her expression still seem surprised, like she had been caught away from work.

    “You, too, Director.” Last she heard, Olga had been gone missing during the incident at Chaldea. That, and of Olga’s replacement of whom she never met. Why did she feel the need to bring up her father..? “ It’s good to see you. I did not think you were one for vacation, but you seem to be doing well.”  She tapped at her own cheek… A few stray sprinkles were on the Director’s cheek… 

A furious scrunch of the brows and a touch of red on Olga’s face painted her features at the woman’s gesture. It seemed her best efforts at stealth were no matched for a keen eye, mystic or otherwise. She scrubbed her cheek furiously with her face averted, before quickly turning before her dignity left her entirely.

“Doctor’s orders, not like that quack Romani has any business giving me orders in the first place...”

“Chaldea isn’t up to function on this island just yet so I have no authority to act otherwise. It’s best to see how things unfold before acting without room to operate.” She was most certainly NOT enjoying herself.

Her eye had caught a food stall not too far off past the crowd, and it alerted her to the fact that her sweet tooth hadn’t quite been sated just then. With a light huff, she began walking until she had nearly past Ophelia, making sure her target stayed in sight. It was as good an opportunity as ever.

THERE IS A MOMENT OF HESITATION, almost sufficient to betray the autocrat. Because there should be hatred for the one who took from him everything. Because there should be, with every shred of reason this universe consists of, the question ‘Why me? Of all the heroes among us, you choose to ask this of ME?’ An annoying question, like a crown put on the tip of the other ones so far. “… THEY DO NOT CALL ME ‘GROZNY’ FOR NOTHING.” He commented over her trouble with him while going over his thoughts.

There was that boy’s face, shattering in a truth withhold from him. A silence that strangled even the words of his answer in his throat. “FOR THE DREAMS THAT DIED THERE IN THE SNOW, I MUST.” As the king of the Lostbelt, I must. As loser then, the last pride he had was in being defeated. It was a pitiful thing, not allowing that boy to fail against anyone else on his quest. The ice-clad Emperor lowered his hand again, breathing in. He died then. He was alive now, again, drawing breath. But what he lost there, what died there, the most important of it all-

Chaldea observed it. And that boy then, his silence was the weakness he himself lacked. That’s right and not something he could admit. But that master was not only carrying the burden of remembering this world existed at all, but…

Gudao was the only one feeling empathy for the Yaga.

The others knew, but none said it, none felt it, like in that moment. Nothing felt as sincere. This world where only strength mattered, surely he was angry. Even now his fists balled and the taste of blood in his mouth danced in his imagination. Defeat was bitter like that. But perhaps that was better than to be defeated with the pride of it having been someone stronger. In a twisted way, in the irony of his world ceasing, this compassion felt like a prayer the Tzar should be thankful for. He himself wasn’t sure what to make of this feeling. He had his reasons, many the director may never know, but her worries he could ease. “GUDAO PLACETH HIS TRUST IN ME AND I REPAY IT AS I WOULD UNTO MY LOYAL SUBJECTS. AND HE IS, QUITE FRANKLY, AN IDIOT. BUT HE IS THE SORT OF IDIOT WHO WOULD NEVER BETRAY ANOTHER, EVEN IF THE PRICE WERE HIS LIFE, A FRIEND’S, OR THE WHOLE WORLD … EVEN IF WE WERE ENEMIES, MY DUTY AS TZAR SEETH THAT I WATCH OVER HIM. SO YES, THOU CANST. I AM BOUND TO PROTECT HIM WITH THIS LIFE OF MINE.” 

Whether either party liked it or not, until the end of their contract, this would be it. But the discussion didn’t end there, and just as he had his duty then, he also still had something to ask of her as king of his denied cosmos. “NOW IT IS MY TURN TO QUESTION THEE. DIRECTOR OLGA-MARIE. WHY ART THOU LEADING CHALDEA? WHY DIDST THOU CREATE IT?”

An exasperated sigh left the director’s lips several silent moments after the tzar finished speaking. His answer was satisfactory enough. With someone like Ivan on his side, he should have been well prepared to face future difficulties. What exasperated her was simply the fact that Ivan was on his side to begin with. 

His prowess as a mage was nothing to write home about, but Olga couldn’t help but sigh at his ability to get such powerful and domineering figures on his side. It was a trait that she’d deem dangerous in just about anyone else, but coming from the boy she knew to be her subordinate, it was almost endearing. Almost.

She shifted her position again as the Servant asked her a question of his own. Twirling her hair around her finger and crossing one leg over the other, she let her eyes gaze across the floor before raising them to meet Ivan once more. It wasn’t a difficult question, nor did it have a complicated answer. She just happened to be feeling talkative.

“I didn’t create Chaldea, my father did. I simply inherited it as his heir when he died. That’s all.”

But it wasn’t all. The truth wasn’t nearly that simple. Nothing was. Not the circumstances of her father’s death, the legacy he left behind, or the impossible mission she burdened herself with. 

“I was young when he died. It was also so unexpected that he didn’t have anything else to leave me but the organization he founded and his will as an Animusphere. It’s only natural that I take the position and own it. I likely would have wound up here anyway.”

Though she arrived at her fated destination too soon, made the wrong allies, believed the wrong lies, and retired just as the grand undertaking could begin. The truth of the matter is that she fought to not crumble under the pressure only to let the job itself kill her. It was almost laughable, though she wasn’t laughing.

Even if they were false and out of order, a view of the stars was always a comforting thing. Knowledge of the stars was knowledge of the world itself and nothing was more important to an heir of the Animusphere. Even if her view was slightly obscured by the parade of otherworldly creatures celebrating the end of the festival, she walked with an ease in her shoulders and a snack in her hands.

On another day, she might opt not to be spotted holding something so sticky sweet to stuff her face with, but it was a festival. There was little need for excuses, and there were even fewer people who would recognize. Or so she thought. The outline was an impossibility, but the last time she had seen the woman was moments before she was supposedly killed. 

Then again, she herself had little room to talk in that regard.

“Ophelia Phamrsolone...” she said after immediately swallowing a cheekful of doughnut.

“HOW IS THIS RELEVANT? ART THOU CASTING DOUBT UPON THE WORDS OF THE TZAR?“ Defensive, displeased, only for it to recede back into brooding silence. “AS ENEMY, IN MY LAND.“ He admitted to, as if he had been staring her down for the seconds he said nothing and even his breath became almost inaudible. “GUDAO AND MASHU JOINED FORCES WITH THE HEINOUS REBELS THAT OPPOSED ME.  I WAS CAUGHT UNAWARE BY THEIR PRESENCE IN MY RUSSIA UNTIL THEY WERE ALREADY IN THE HEART OF MOSCOW. WE FOUGHT, THEY WON. WITH NOTHING ELSE LEFT, I BECAME ONE OF CHALDEA’S SERVANTS. “ He leaned on his elbow, ending his explanation on a more placid note. Accompanying them on their journey, he thought, the idea itself was strangely pleasant.

“HM. TO ASK ME ALL OF THIS- IS MY PRESENCE A SOURCE OF CONCERN? IN TRUTH, IT DOTH NOT SOUND ANYMORE LIKE AN INTEREST IN ME AS PERSON, BUT IN ME AS SERVANT. YET I AM HERE AS ONE AS SO MANY OTHERS, REGARDLESS WHETHER THOU CANST FATHOM IT OR NOT.“ He could undercut her motivations, just like that.

“Russia, huh?” she didn’t doubt his words of recollection. Much. There was a certain fondness of his homeland that he spoke with even as he talked about his own defeat. He talked about his Russia as if it were more than just a passing moment in a history book. It was almost enough for her to lower her guard.

“Maybe I am concerned. I ought to know about Servants powerful enough to rule a country in the hands of that idiot commoner. If you really are the Ivan from history then I can read about you in a history book. I didn’t get to leading Chaldea out of the hands of the Association by playing nice with every noble I met.”

She brushed a lock of hair from her face that had fallen in front of her eyes in her hesitation. The servant was a hulking and intimidating figure to be sure, concern was just one of the many emotions he stirred by a glance alone. However...

“You’re powerful. That much I can tell. You’re hospitable enough despite being known as a tyrant, and you’re level-headed enough to handle cooperating even with wilder Servants like Captain Drake. Frankly even I would have had difficulty dealing with you as a magus and as a person, let alone Gudao. I don’t doubt that with everything he learned and gained that he was able to win, but my final question for the Ivan Grozny in front of me has nothing to do with his talent or skill. Realistically it’s the only one that matters in the end.”

THE TOPIC WAS HIM? FAIR ENOUGH. Confusion and comparison to the man she knew of history by the same name and destiny were inevitable. Before, he clarified one important matter with a rumble scaling his throat.“AN INTERVIEW. NO ONE IS IN THE POSITION TO INTERROGATE ME.” It was a line drawn he found necessary before addressing her question. Whether she was his master, the director, anyone— acting as if above him was a transgression he had to punish. She should be wiser than arguing that, so onto the reason for her being here.

The Tzar dwelled for fleeting moments on the explanation, a thoughtful hum filling the emptiness of words. “HM. IVAN GROZNY OF HISTORY.” The truth was she knew more about this man than he did… and he knew to play that to his advantage. “THAT WOULD BE ME. THOU ART A MAGE OF ACCOMPLISHED RANK, SO THOU SHOULDST BE ABLE TO CALL UPON MENTAL IMAGERY OF MY SKILLS. NOTICE, ONE IS ‘INNOCENT MONSTER’. THERE WERE MANY WHO CALLED ME A MONSTER. AND THERE WERE MANY WHO THOUGHT OF MY LAND AS AN ICY TITAN. MY REPUTATION WAS SUCH. “ He leaned back, and even without the presence of a face it looked as if he adjusted to look down at her like a king offering the envoys in his court an intrigue-filled glance. “I THOUGHT THOU WERT A MASTER? I CANNOT BE AN OUTLIER AMONG THE SERVANTS THOU HAST ENCOUNTERED.”

She clicked her tongue bitterly at the Rider’s words. True, he made a point(several, in fact) but something still wasn’t adding up. It wasn’t simply him dodging her questioning. Innocent Monster was there, but something was up. There was a hint of truth, woven deftly with junk and deceptions that she’d have to filter out on her own.

An irritating task, but she’d do what she needed to.

“Yes, I see your skills clearly. Your reputation did lend itself to that sort of mutation. Blame the historians who wrote about you if you want.”

Nails dug into her sleeve at his last question. Not a baseless claim, but it wouldn’t take much to tell that she lacked the qualifications to be a proper Master, even barring the lack of seals on her hand. She tugged hard against the fabric of her jacket, until the image of a certain pirate laughing at her behavior replaced he furious dejection with a sigh she could work with.

Perhaps she should have counted herself fortunate that Ivan was ever the hospitable tyrant, or at the very least didn’t regard her with much hostility. She could chalk that up with him having already made contact with Chaldea, however there were so many questions she had little answers to that it all blurred together in a haze of irritation. The fact that his face was nigh unreadable didn’t help matters.

“I want answers. You can think of it as an interrogation if you want or an interview. It doesn’t matter to me.”

A gesture of the hand and a cross of the legs was all she allowed herself to adjust as she spoke. She certainly didn’t want to waver in the face of a Servant contracted to her subordinate, but sheer amount of unknowns in front of her piled with the Rider’s imperious presence gave her the slightest of pauses.

Olga holds herself as a practical realist that isn’t interested in flights of fancy or odd whimsy, but the truth is that she inherited the title of director when she was still younger and has spent years trying to fill the shoes that were a size too big for her. The whole idea of saving the world and protecting the future sounds like a pipe dream to her even when she says it with conviction, so instead of thinking about something unrealistic, she tends to lapse into thoughts about something close to normalcy in the face of her reality.

erudorago:

“ There must be a reward at the end of this,Olga. You worry too much. Right now everything’s a mess. If we place the beacons in the prime locations, not only do we claim those foundations, we know the area “ Drake pipped up from behind, with something of a snort. ” Naturally, then, it’s easier to take over, ya, my brother Tzar?”  The petite pirate shuffled after the two in quick spurts. She could maintain her pace for a long while,but likely not her Master– not with the way Chaldea stumbled over her apprehensions, anyway. But–before her last comment could be  elaborated on, Drake solved the answer to their lagging behind. She hopped forward, circling an arm around the Director’s waist. With a short jog, she leapt onto the giant Rider’s back, and deposited Olga over one tusk while she hung to the other, smiling as if it were natural.

Drake wiggled her feet and tapped the tip of Ivan’s crown. “I was thinking we go alone the edges of the city. Light it up.”

@tzarov​ > @chaldirection​

“TAKE OVER WHAT? RUBBLE? DON’T BE RIDICULOUS.“ At least the director made an effort to consider the nature of the situation, while this drunkard treated it like a chase for gold. Continuing his march, he toyed with his thoughts only for so long until the added, albeit light weight of them surprised him. “…………………………………………”

Drake’s estimate for the weather was short of failing to gauge the storm in his veins or how much he tolerated her. “………….. IF THOU LAY THY FINGERS ON THAT AGAIN, I WILL LIGHT UP THEE. DOST THOU THINK I A BEAST OF BURDEN ?!? OFF WITH THEE ! …  THE MASTER MAYETH STAY, BUT THOU WILL WALK.” He peeled her off by the back of her jacket, and without care just dropped her back on the ground. That the director could not keep up he could tolerate, but carrying another Servant? She could play those games of tomfoolery with her crew, not with the Tzar. “… ENOUGH WITH THIS NOW. THE DESTINATION IS AHEAD. DIRECTOR? HOLD ON.”

@chaldirection​ > @erudorago​

She wasn’t exactly thrilled to be hoisted up by her Servant onto another entirely, it all happened too quickly for her to protest. She was torn between shouting at Rider and bracing for the fury of the unknown Servant, but the tzar appeared to be oddly compliant with her presence. His rebuffing Rider did a bit to calm her nerves after the sudden jump.

“You’re hospitable for a known tyrant...though you were never known for being a mammoth either.”

She saved her questions about his strange form for a later date and opted to focus on not falling off or behind.

“Once we get to the point we can think about what comes next. Getting this ‘beacon’ off our hands comes first.”

Tears streamed without end, just as the suffering which Mashu could only imagine the woman was continually enduring. Without justice, without salvation. All they had been through - no matter how tremendous, could be but a drop in the ocean opposite her own, solitary.

But she calmed, as best she could, to limit the additional trouble heaped onto Olga’s shoulders. Still with hitched breaths and a struggle to speak through silent persisting sobs. Never had the Director been so forthcoming with her care; surprising it may have been to feel her hand soothing, Mashu only soaked it in, from years-old longing.

“Perhaps worse than Singularity F; all skills are reduced in effectiveness. Noble Phantasm sealed, but known - Lord Camelot, of the Round Table knight Galahad. But physically fit, and far more experienced in battle - my body is no longer restricted, there is no danger of it breaking down. I’m afraid I’m still sub-par, for all the work you put into our preparations. Grand Order was completed and humanity salvaged, but I’m certain you’re aware of the price, My potential was seen and seized, but our current location has countered it with gradual recovery, even if I’m still a long way from being complete again. if you have managed to locate Senpai or Doctor Roman. It’s almost like we’re back to square one”.

Diligent as always. The doctor could learn something from her. Even so far away from home, or maybe because of it, she was still able to rifle off her condition and status as if her job depended on it. She had heard plenty from Roman, but specifics regarding Mashu’s condition were untouched. As happy as the director was to see her in one piece, parts of her report still managed to unsettle her.

“Galahad, huh...? Of course a Knight of The Round Table would have taken an issue with those old experiments. Any so called ‘knight’ that leaves someone defenseless is as useless as a mercenary to a commoner.”

That voice had so long been a distant memory..

Never a day had passed where Olga Marie’s horrific death haunted Mashu; her inability to save a woman who never turned her back on her, no matter how much fear the girl brought her.

“Director?”

A sharp turn allowed her to face the charging woman head-on, frozen from a wealth of emotions surging towards the surface in competition. Was it true? If she could be reunited with Roman, was this not a cruel trick but truly her? Tears welled in the girl’s eyes, who reached out like an infant groping the air for its mother, and latched on once Olga was within reach, clutching as tightly as she had Roman.

“You’re here? You’re really here?” she sobbed, as words struggled against the tightness of her throat clenching, not to crumble completely before her. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry I couldn’t do anything! I’m sorry!”

The girl’s grip was fiercer than she anticipated, but she should have known what to expect from the demi-servant. In the back of her mind, she cursed the girl’s fate as much as herself for causing her distress and the words that left her mouth. If what she heard from Roman was true, and he knew better than to lie by now, she had undergone far worse than the Fuyuki singularity and yet here they were.

A short breath like a sigh of exasperation left her as her lips curled into a weary and bitter smile. One hand moved to the top of the girl’s head, swaying in gentle strokes as she clung to Olga. No time for indecision. She had a job to do as her director.

“Who else do I look like...?”

A sight more familiar than most popped up in the corner of her eyes, spurring her feet to move as if possessed. What started as a few cautious steps soon grew in speed, going from a walk to a dash in a matter of seconds upon seeing the girl. She had seen the doctor and her subordinates in the other city, but she never thought, never expected to see the girl in glasses again after their parting in Fuyuki.

Without a plan and a head swirling with doubts, she merely called out a name in hopes of getting her to turn around.