Road to Londinium (Patreon)

A war council - as it could be called - settled in Jekyll's living room. The sight of which caused him to bellow indignantly, at least that’s what he wanted to do, as armored Servants began seating haphazardly on his favorite couch, deforming it with the weight of their armor. Some Servants literally pushed him out of his comfortable chair at the desk. And how one certain Servant at the moment, with sincere childish curiosity, continued to study - or, more simply, destroy - his assembled radio station. At least that’s what he wanted to do.

Jekyll himself was forced to remain silent - to his own considerable regret, the situation at the moment was definitely unsatisfactory to his British predisposition for beauty and comfort.

Ainz, not paying any attention to the silently fuming Jekyll, thoughtfully continued to look at the assembled Servants in the living room. Servants to whom Jack had already told all the information available to her. The situation definitely merits some thoughts.

With the number of Servants opposing them…

Any other person in his place would have been afraid of what they’re going to encounter, with Servants more akin to the forces of nature, or divine anger. However, Ainz was not particularly concerned about the Servants who were on the side of the enemy. Of course, he wouldn’t do something so blatantly stupid and just ignored his opponents, blindly rushing forward. But, at the same time, Ainz, one way or another, is, if not stronger than any Servant, then at least one of the strongest. And so, that fact in mind, he began the preparation with those that are, nominally speaking at least, on his side.

However, hmm, taking into account the relative strength of both sides, in the current situation even his help might not be enough.

While Ainz was not worried about his safety, for the most part, the safety of the other Servants however…  were in much more danger than Ainz himself would have liked. Servants who summoned other Servants through the Grail were not a new phenomenon for Ainz, however, the danger they represented should not be discounted. Servants after all had the disgusting ability to show the most unexpected of surprises from their pockets as soon as they were cornered.

Any Servants could be dangerous. And, if Jack’s information were correct, and she had provided as accurate information as she could thanks to one of his abilities, then some of the Servants of the enemy were really dangerous…  Even Ainz needed to be careful if he were to face some of them.

However, in the end, even if the worst happened and some of the Servants had powers that were laughably strong even by Ainz's own standards, Ainz was not in any way unarmed and in no way was defenseless. Therefore, gritting his teeth and calming his paranoia - he could say that even with the most pessimistic of estimates, he would most likely break through without significant losses.

However, the existence of this ‘King’ figure, about the most powerful King - was information of a different level of importance.

Of course, ideally it would just be one of the Demon Kings, but what if it was a Grand Servant? Even Da Vinci was unable to determine either the ability, or the level of power, or the personality of these possible Grand Servants. What if it wasn't a Grand Servant, but something even more dangerous, something that the Grand Servants were summoned to fight? What if his opponent turns out to be stronger than anything he has met before? What if he can't win as confidently as before?

For comparison sake, it would not have been difficult for Ainz to kill all of the Servants present here. However, it would have been quite difficult to protect them all. If his opponent was strong enough, then Ainz was not sure that he could protect the Servants, or even that he could successfully resolve the Singularity in a satisfactory manner. He was not in his most suitable form for a successful battle - and no one could predict what would happen next...

Ainz exhaled and massaged his throbbing temples with his hands.

***

Henry Jekyll was under a great deal of stress. Stemming from the fact that Jack tried to take away his radio for spare parts, from the fact that the other Servants were slowly destroying his favorite sofa - but primarily from the situation in which he found himself at the moment.

Jekyll felt like the hero of a novel - which was especially ironic, considering that in the future, as a Servant, he would become much better known as the hero of a tabloid novel than as a real, existing scientist. And on some sort of universal whim, he was here, looking at Servants, real heroes, in front of him.

Jekyll even let out a chuckle in his mind - could it be said that he was now facing his greatest fear? The fear of death, the fear of facing an invincible monster is still one of the most primal fears of humanity. And therefore Jekyll had to say that he was not locked in the pages of a tabloid novel at the moment, but in a very real nightmare.

However, at the same time, Jekyll could say that he was now living a completely different book. A book that he wouldn’t mind reading at that. Of course, the horrors facing him, Servants, battles, his inevitable death in the end should not be discounted. And it was not worth pretending that these things did not bother Jekyll at all - yet, at the same time he could smile at the fact that he, in some sense, is living in a heroic fantasy.

There is no moral duality about it, no moral ambiguity, this is a battle for the fate of the world. A battle, in which he was, albeit not the most important, but still a participant of. His Servant self was hundreds of times stronger than he was during his lifetime - and hundreds of times more dangerous. He would provide all possible help to the heroes and hope that they will not forget to remember him one day. He could face an invincible adversary - and at the very least show a good showing.

It wasn't the best ending Jekyll could have imagined in his life - but it definitely wasn't the worst thing that could happen to him.

***

Andersen absolutely did not care about what was happening in front of him. Him, of all people, fighting other Servants? Hogwash.

Once, he had clearly and unequivocally stated that he was an absolutely useless Servant, that he would not make a single move to save humanity. And since then he has completely and unambiguously gone along with what he said.

He didn’t and couldn’t help in combat. Andersen chuckled - anyone who expected him to fight had to be a complete idiot, in addition to having a perverse taste. Seeing as the burning desire they have to see a child fighting, a child without any fighting capabilities at that.

He could not participate in the creation of battle plans, and while he possessed a large amount of Mana pretty much useless as a Caster, he also preferred not to use his Noble Phantasm, in general as a Servant he was surprisingly useless in the current conditions. Exactly as Andersen himself said.

“I am a third-rate Servant so you can’t expect any help from me” And after uttering these words any questions about Andersen’s suitability for battle should not have appeared in the mind of any observer.

Andersen was just an author, just an observer of other people's battles, just a useless chronicler, writing down line by line of his oft discarded manuscripts.

And even if those around him did not need another author, content with a story that they wrote on their own, then what was Andersen, except as a useless appendix to the Singularity?

All that was left for him to do in this case was simply to write his own meaningless notes in the margins. As a watcher of significant battles, heroic actions, the awakening of indestructible monsters and the result of horrific battles as they take place in front of him. And as the one to put the dots at the end of the sentence when others, much more significant than him, Servants - take their step.

***

Arthuria looked thoughtfully from Ainz then back to herself.

Her son, Mordred, had betrayed her again during the Battle for Britain. If it weren't for Arthuria's usual gloomy mood, she might even chuckle at how much history was prone to repeating itself.

Arthuria did not consider herself guilty of betraying Mordred’s expectations, not when it first happened, much less now.

Of course, anyone could say that Arthuria did not need much trouble to change history. Just a couple of words - ‘yes, you will be my heir’ - and history would have taken a different path. Those who thought so were idiots.

Mordred was not destined to be king, her mind confused by the ideals of Arthuria - and it was disgusting. Mordred was faithful to Arthuria to the last drop of her blood - and it was disgusting. Mordred shared the ideals of Arthuria - and it was disastrous.

It was foolish to think that Arthuria - at least the Arturia which she was now, the Black Tyrant - was so blind and stupid not to notice the ripening discontent of the people. Arthuria understood that her ideals of chivalry, the tyranny of the law, were burdensome for normal people.

How enthusiastically they greeted her returning from the war - was just as angrily they reproached her. Again and again collecting disastrous taxes borne by the commoners with backbreaking work. How the bard's tales sang in praise of her - as they also made fun of her every decision. She created a worthy kingdom - however, only her closest associates and her most sworn enemies could appreciate her actions as worthy.

The King's path is the path of loneliness.

Arthuria knew that one day her time would come and she would leave behind a powerful country that languishes under the yoke of her power. A wave that hits the shore must return to the ocean again before returning.

After Arthuria, her state needed a king who was not at all like her. Someone less cruel and formidable, someone more gentle and beloved. Not a Black Tyrant who ruled with the inexorable power of their blade, but a gentle diplomat, ready for compromise and understanding.

Mordred was not that.

She was sharp, sublime and madly in love with the image of her father. She would lead Britain into new wars, into new battles, bring up new knights and capture all the British Isles hundreds of years earlier than it happened. She loved her Father so dearly after all, and Father couldn’t be wrong.

Mordred was not supposed to rule, so Arthuria did what she always did. She threw away the helping hand that Mordred had offered her.

Of course, another Arthuria could have his own opinion on this matter, but the opinion of the Black Tyrant was as it always was.

And yet, Mordred, the stupid girl would continue to fight for Arthuria. Faithful to the last drop of her blood.

Therefore, Mordred was not supposed to become King.

What Arthuria created by her rule was a red-hot blade, but not yet the sword that Britain would later become. And in order to harden the blade, it was necessary to know for sure that it would not break from the next crash of the blacksmith’s hammer. Mordred simply didn’t understand how to rule what Arthuria had created. And so Arthuria refused Mordred, and so they crossed blades at the fields of Camlann.

Mordred could not escape from the captivity of her own thoughts, desires, and beliefs. She could not rise above her obsessions with the throne and therefore rushed into battle.

And so Arthur's blood was shed by Clarent by her own actions. The uprising broke out because of the words and actions of Arthuria herself - and Arthuria could say that she had not expected that it was she herself who would become the cause of her own death.

The battle between the two Kings, each of which was so similar to each other, did not end in victory or defeat.

Mordred died, but at the very last moment inflicted a mortal wound on Arthuria. Everything that happened next was just its consequence. Arthuria perished, as all heroes do. And her legendary city the shining Camelot turned into nothing but dust, as all legends do at the end.

Arthuria and Mordred both fell in battle. However, what a pity, Arthuria was here again. She was now doomed to continue battling, over and over again facing the ghosts of the past. Fighting for all of humanity... What a funny ending for a story like hers.

And now she was once again face to face with the only enemy that she could never win against.

Arthuria allowed a stupid question into her head. Did Ainz think the same way?

Did he see the ghosts of the past before him? Did he consider his battle to be some kind of cosmic joke? Did he worry about the lives entrusted to him? Did he look at them distantly or not?

Ainz stood out as an unattainable bulwark for the Servants - and Arthuria always wondered why? Ainz was strong, perhaps even invincible - but the colorful epithets that others used to denote him always seemed to her, if not undeserved, then at least far-fetched.

However, Ainz, in a sense, was the opposite of Arthuria - but had a strange resemblance to her. Arthuria, who was beyond the reach of humans - and Ainz, who was always with the Servants. And at the same time - Arthuria, who was able to kill her own child - and Ainz, who could not only defeat the strongest Servant under his command - but was not even afraid of her betrayal. Both were perfect kings, conscious of their loneliness among the crowd. Such a similarity and such a stark difference…

***

Oda Nobunaga thoughtfully looked at herself - and at Ainz.

King and King, both of them.

Nobunaga had never even imagined that one day she would face someone so similar and so different from herself. She, Oda Nobunaga, was the embodiment of people's hatred for every legend of Oda Nubanaga. Arrogant, as befits a human, and confident in her strength, as befits humanity. Hot and loud - against the cold and quiet king, who looks at the world not from the position of a person, but from the position of a ruler. Nobunaga, who brought fire and hatred, the destruction of temples and of legends - and her... Opponent? Perhaps that was the most appropriate word. Not an enemy, but an adversary, as if the legend of a knight in shining armor was embodied was now facing her.

However, if you open the wrapper, the shell that is her legend, then Nobunaga had nothing behind her soul. Nothing except for her own invented feats, which did not happen, truly she was the Fool of Owari. Within her adversary was a legend long in history, not on display, but embodied through his every word, movement, and action. What a strange difference and what a strange resemblance - a legend devoured by history versus a history devouring legend.

Nobunaga could say that his victory in their duel was obvious, just as much the amount of cheating had been obvious. But then she, Oda Nobunaga, paying distaste to something like cheating? Ha preposterous!

Still, at the same time she could say that the duel had just begun. Nobunaga, possessing hatred and strength, lost to calmness and conviction. Not in the battle, but after it. Although it might not even have been called a battle in the full sense - however, when she accepted help from Ainz, Nobunaga really realized that their past duel meant nothing. It wasn't even a battle — not in the eyes of her opponent, at least. Indeed, he did not see what happened either as his victory or as her defeat, but only as the beginning of the real battle. A false king against a real king - perhaps their ‘duel’ could be called that.

A battle in which the false king needed to cast aside all prejudice and act smarter, stronger and better than he believed was necessary.

Indeed, their duel was just beginning...

***

Da Vinci enthusiastically wondered - what was her favorite hobby? More than designing, embroidery, mixing cocktails, parachuting, riding horses and about twelve hundred other hobbies that Da Vinci was fond of in her free, but, alas, absent time. What is it she likes the most?

Da Vinci was thinking about everything at the same time. About the correct scientific location of time zones, about the history of the discovery of America, about the reasons for the emergence of the First French Republic and many other exciting things. But still, at the moment, Da Vinci was especially keen on thinking about the situation in which she found herself in.

Da Vinci did not have a false sense of modesty, something which other people liked to disguise their desire for compliments as. She, not needing additional praise from competitors, knew full well how much she was superior to many.

However, not all.

Da Vinci was lucky to meet with several people whose genius was not inferior to herself. But even if their capability would balance out in one area - as soon as someone weighed all the talents with which Da Vinci was bequeathed with - the true genius would become obvious to any observer.

And that is why the current situation was so interesting - and perhaps even frightening for Da Vinci.

She was accustomed to the fact that even if someone could surpass her in one area, by a miracle perhaps, and only for a moment and only in some insignificant detail,  she was an invincible and all-knowing colossus of reason. There was a reason why she was embodied as the universal man.

And therefore, encountering the unknown was for Da Vinci... A highly unusual phenomenon.

And if Ainz's appearance ultimately turned into only an excellent act of cognizing an endless array of completely different information, an act attractive to Da Vinci's mind, then the collision with another, new adversary was a dubious event for Da Vinci.

Da Vinci was not used to not having information - and what she knew about the Grand Servants, and, as it turned out, about the Singularities in general, was incomplete. Not only incomplete, but possibly even false.

Who was behind all of this? Who controlled the Servants? Who ruled the Demon Kings?

Unlike Ainz, the lack of an answer to this information did not please Da Vinci with the sleepless nights full of sublime knowledge ahead of her. The lack of an answer to this question only meant that Da Vinci was unprepared for what challenges the Singularity would present to her in the future - and the whole rewriting of subsequent history.

And, unlike the funny situation in which Da Vinci found herself for the first time after meeting Ainz, this situation did not cause any joy in Da Vinci.

***

Medusa gave Ainz a slow glance before turning her gaze to herself.

The situation in which she found herself in was more uncertain than she herself first thought.

Of course, the battle for the fate of humanity was not the most appropriate time and place to show sympathy. But at the same time, she was not at all happy with the current situation. It was like a stalemate in which Medusa could not act and was forced to only wait. Wait for the end, possibly endless stalemate, to make her move.

Although Medusa did not want to fight, she naturally had to. From the very moment she had received the Grail from Ainz, she had used her abilities, everything given to her just for Ainz. She had used all her strength to do only what Ainz liked. And thanks to the Grail, she had found newfound strength in herself, and with the Singularities many opportunities to use them. Even now, with the exception of Ainz, she was one of the strongest Servants in this Singularity. After all, Ainz liked strong Servants who did not waste time on useless tactics and preferred efficiency to showiness. Therefore, Medusa could not take a step forward - but she really wanted to.

She wanted this battle to end, so that there was no threat to humanity behind Ainz's back, so that he would not continue to fight over and over again, forcing Medusa to just watch and wait, unable even to help.

Medusa really didn't want Ainz to continue this battle.

But she believed, she truly believed that he would win. That the enemy would lose, that Ainz would come back to her - and this senseless struggle with the unknown would end.

***

Mashu wasn't sure about her current situation.

She wasn't particularly needed in the current Singularity - but neither was her presence here wasted.

Casting a furtive glance at Ainz, she clenched her fists.

At least she definitely figured out what she needed to tell Ainz. About her condition, about her remaining life and about...

‘About my bright feelings, about how grateful I am that he trusts me!’  Galahad's squeaky voice made Mashu grimace.  ‘About the fact that I faced an invincible horror - and how his radiant figure was able to save me. How, holding against all the horror of the world, I saw salvation in his arms…’

‘Galahad, tell me, is it necessary for your existence that you spoil my mood?’ - Mashu closed her eyes for a second - ‘Servants need mana, but you need your dirty comments, right?’

‘Almost!’ - Galahad chuckled in her mind - ‘But no, of course, I have no real need to spoil your girlish dreams - it's just, you know, not very pleasant when such thoughts begin to surface in your mind! You know, where I’m staying!?’

Mashu blinked before frowning for a second. ‘In my mind? Our mind is divided, isn't it?’

There was no response to this before Galahad cleared his throat uncertainly - ‘Anyway…’

‘Don't change the topic!’ - Mashu instantly flared up before Galahad surreptitiously fell silent - ‘You can't go away now of all times!’

Perhaps Galahad really couldn't get away with answering forever. But this time, he definitely managed to do it. No need to spring that can of worms after all.

***

Jalter exhaled, rolling her eyes.

It was just not serious - her being here in this ‘war council’ was the most pointless pastime one could imagine. In fact, the entire Singularity took only two days, which made Jalter feel even more useless. She never even fought in a battle, and therefore, in fact, she was only needed for accompanying the rest of the Servants. Amazing efficiency, as you would expect from her Master!

However, Jalter still could not be angry with Ainz. She really was needed as, in fact, insurance. To protect Mashu, to strike a blow against the enemy, to do some dirty work... And should she really be angry with her Master? He was smart, smart enough to see the need for Jalter in the current Singularity - and Jalter would not argue with that. And the need to be brought along to the Singularity - could this be considered a payment for her summoning? Shouldn't she have been glad that she wasn't even forced to fight, huh?

Jalter glanced at Ainz, who, in the end, apparently came to a certain conclusion and uttered his next words slowly. “It seems… I know what our plan will look like.”

***

Jack was the last thing, person, interested in Ainz's plans. More precisely, if Jack thought that Ainz would be pleased if she listened to his plans, then she would definitely, with all her might, focus on understanding Ainz's plan.

She would not understand it, but would shake her head attentively, expecting Daddy's praise in response.

However, since Ainz did not give Jack a specific task, she ignored the plan, continuing to methodically spin Jekyll's radio, causing him to involuntarily grit his teeth, just to see how exactly the little talking people could hide in this box?

“Jack.”, - Daddy's voice, however, made Jack immediately turn to him, - “Will you help me?”

What else could Jack answer to this question, except, with exuberant acceptance.  “Of course, Daddy!”

***

Fran continued to glance at everyone present - which, however, was not easy for the others to see because of Fran's particular hairstyle.

Fran wasn't stupid. She could not speak... But she was not stupid. She understood what was required of her.

Perform a task. Collect the Grail. Fight and protect your allies.

A simple plan that could not fail at any stage.

***

Ainz exhaled and looked at all of his Servants.

Nobunaga, Mashu, Jalter, Medusa, Da Vinci and Arthuria.

Ha…

And the King is in front.

Ainz inhaled slowly and exhaled.

It's time to deal with the Singularity. Hey if his plan worked he might have broken a record or something!

***

Excerpt from the historical monograph: "Gilles de Rais and Bluebeard."

After leaving military service, Gilles de Rais of course did not lose his wealth and influence, also remaining a royal favorite. And the last reason is precisely why his persistent faith in the Holy Virgin, whom he had placed on the same pedestal as Jesus, was the perfect excuse for the church to start an unofficial war with him.

Due to the emerging cult of the dark aspect of Joan of Arc, the actions of the church were quite simple - accused him of demon worship and participation in this cult. A cult in which, according to historical evidence, Gilles de Rais was not a member of. And so with the church’s officials’ accusations he was excommunicated, a very serious thing during the time.

Is it any wonder then that soon after Gilles de Rais, a hero of France was betrayed by his supporters and executed as a devil worshiper, cultist and traitor to France. Perhaps the man himself would rejoice at dying the same way as his idol. Just as Peter, couldn’t stand as being crucified the same way as Jesus did.

The lie was so persistent that, even among a certain group of historians, he is still considered a very unheroic person. It didn’t help matters that, several hundred years after his death, a very famous pirate captain took his name into further infamy by calling himself the same name.

With such mixed reputations, he was simultaneously numbered among the Holy Great Martyrs of Chirstianity, and yet at the same time was repeatedly excommunicated from the church after his death. Which is why at the moment Gilles de Rais is equally known as the embodiment of Christian virtues - and as a well-known demon worshiper and one of the few people excommunicated twice, before and after his death.

It was the death of Gilles de Rais due to the actions of the church that became one of the earliest causes of French dissatisfaction with the church. Many historians point to this very event as the reason that, even now, almost ninety-nine percent of the population of France professes Protestantism named after Jeanne d'Arc...