THG Omake: Fate/Stay Fluffy 2 (Patreon)

Fate/Stay Fluffy 2

John Soprano

We sat around talking for several more minutes before we heard the door open. That was, of course, impossible. Scathach being able to sneak up on me was one thing, but no one on Earth-Bet had anything resembling thaumaturgical knowledge.

In the doorway stood a man I’d never met before, but recognized all the same. His magical presence was that potent, enough to cow any lesser magus.

He was an older gentleman with a beard but no mustache dressed in a fine, gold-trimmed suit. His hair was ash-white and slicked back carelessly. His hands were clad in white gloves and a thick, black was draped over his shoulders. Most of all, his crimson eyes drew me in with a cunning lethality.

I did the only thing I could. I stood and pulled up another chair for him. “Kaleidoscope, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Care to join us for dinner?”

“Ah, Heaven’s Feel. You’re a hard man to find,” he said with a genial smile. “I hope you don’t mind me dropping in like this, but I’ve found it’s always easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.”

“If you bother asking at all.”

“Indeed.”

“If you must know, I was busy on the Isle of Skye.”

“Who’s this guy?” Missy asked bluntly. “I didn’t know you made friends already, John.”

“Ahaha, how refreshing, a pup too young to fear a tiger,” Zelretch laughed, not offended in the least.

I loaded up a plate for Zelretch. “Rebecca, Missy, may I introduce Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg, Second True Magician, Wizard Marshal of the Mage Association, Number Four of the Twenty-Seven Dead Apostle Ancestors, and most importantly, the Second True Magician.”

“You said lots of words there, magic-man. Now what do they mean?” Missy snarked. She might have gained a few inches, but I was glad to see her wit hadn’t mellowed one bit. Or maybe booze brought out the tween in her again.

“You introduced yourself as the Third True Magician,” Rebecca said, eyeing Zelretch with far more caution now. “I take it he is related somehow?”

“That’s right. It’s a long story, but just know that he’s a very powerful mage, not unlike myself.”

“Noted.”

I turned back to the old vampire. “Now, what brings you here, Second? I didn’t think you even knew I existed.”

“I didn’t, until you started throwing around EX-ranked Noble Phantasms like candy a century back,” he said. “Then I spent a few decades looking for you in nearby worlds. I’ve been checking in once in a while.”

“Can you not see into the Isle of Skye?”

“I can if I try. Suffice to say, Scathach is not a woman even I challenge lightly.”

“Understandable. That woman is all kinds of terrifying. Well, here I am. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“My original reason is no longer a concern, but now that you mention it…”

“Oh, is the wizard going to give you a quest?” Missy said with a shit-eating grin. She may have had a few more beers than advisable. “You know, every good fantasy story starts like this.”

“Hahaha! Why, as a matter of fact, I am, missy,” Zelretch laughed.

“Wait, how do you know my name?”

“Missy?”

“Yes!”

Rebecca palmed the blonde’s head before tipping her chair backwards with what seemed like long practice. Missy sat like that, leaned back into her chair and staring up at the ceiling light. “There. Look at the light. Good girl. Now think about what you just said.”

“What? Oh, my name is Missy,” she giggled.

“That’s right.”

“And ‘missy’ is also a word.”

“Good, good. You’re drunk, Missy.”

“I’m not.”

I sighed. I’d only been back for a few days and I was already starting to wonder why I’d left Skye at all. “Zelretch? You were saying?”

“You have delightful friends,” he chuckled. “Anyway, how would you like to officiate a Holy Grail War?”

“Nope. Why the hell would I do that?”

“Perhaps because you are mindful of the time I wasted looking for you?”

“Try again, Zelretch. I’m happy with my smokehouse, whenever I get that set up again. I just spent a century getting my ass handed to me by Scatach. The last thing I want is to do more work.”

“Hmm… Well, I certainly cannot make you. I suspect even if I sent you to the world in question, you’d just drive the poor, local magi to madness out of spite.”

“You suspect correctly.”

The old vampire stroked his beard in thought. “How about this then? I propose a trade, Third.”

“Fine, lay it on me. I can at least hear you out,” I said. As fellow true magicians, we were peers. That said, he had several millennia of experience on me. I debuted he could kill me, but I had no doubt he could make my life incredibly inconvenient if he so chose.

“You see, you are the Heaven’s Feel. It could be said that you are the perfected embodiment of the Heaven’s Feel Ritual.”

“I’m a bit more than that. The Heaven’s Feel has a lot more applications than just touching the Throne.”

“True. In any case, you are someone who has no interest in using the holy grail to reach Akasha, for you’ve already reached it. Thus, you are the ideal overseer for the Holy Grail War.”

“I get where you’re coming from, I really do, but I’m still not interested,” I told him. “I want to make barbeque and feed people, that’s it.”

“Ah, but you’ve yet to hear my compensation. How about this, Third? You act as the overseer for the Fifth Holy Grail War. In exchange, once the war is over, I will personally enchant for you a restaurant which connects to other worlds. It would be a multi-dimensional focal point, a nexus, if you will.”

“You’re willing to give me access to the Kaleidoscope… just to oversee the war?”

“Well, I would like it if the war came to a definitive conclusion. To that end, I would like you to use your true magic to purify the corrupted grail. I don’t care how the war ends, only that it happens, and that it is the last.”

This made no sense. The holy grail, though corrupted, wasn’t some multiversal threat, not one that would require the involvement of two true magicians. I came to the only conclusion I could. “You… You’re bored, aren’t you?”

“Terribly.”

“And you think throwing me at Fuyuki would… what?”

“Entertain me, of course. How about it?”

“Well…” Admittedly, the idea of a multiversal restaurant was tempting. I could only imagine all the ingredients I could find in other worlds. And to think, all those poor, unenlightened worlds out there that had never known the taste of rich, smoky, Texas barbeque…

“He accepts,” Missy said. At my accusatory look, she shrugged. “What? I’m bored here too. Hey, Gandalf-man, can I watch?”

Zelretch grinned ear-to-ear. Prana spiked as he accessed the Second. “Then it’s settled. Have fun, Third, and do try not to traumatize everyone too badly.”

X

On the plus side, Zelretch did not in fact yeet Rebecca across dimensions. On the downside, he yeeted me and Missy across dimensions. That, and the mosquito bastard dropped us in the middle of the Clock Tower’s main lobby.

How did I know? The literal dozens of spells and mystic codes aimed at us were a pretty good hint.

I rolled over onto my back and stared up blankly at the domed ceiling. The art was beautiful, depicting the tower’s early history.

“Fuck Zelretch so goddamn much,” I grumbled.

“I must really be drunk,” Missy giggled. “Hey, where did Becca go?”

Seeing how she wasn’t likely to be of any help, I quickly enclosed Missy in a protective bounded field and stood. I pointed at a random magus. “You, when was the Fourth Holy Grail War?”

He stared at me like I was crazy. Then again, even if he didn’t think I’d been sent by the Kaleidoscope, teleportation was exceptionally rare in the modern age. What with Gaia being the way she was, mysteries of this nature were family secrets, if they existed at all.

Then there was the sword at Missy’s side. No one on Earth-Bet recognized it, but that was because no one was a magus there. Here, it was immediately pegged as a Noble Phantasm even as Gaia eroded the projection out of existence. To be fair, it’d been a century since I last projected it.

That would be a problem. I wasn’t sure if Missy still had her Shard, but she’d be at a disadvantage without Caliburn.

“Well? When was it?” I demanded.

“Eight years ago. Who are you? Which house are you from?” he shot back.

“John Soprano, first generation magus. This here’s Missy.”

“Wha–First generation? Do not lie to me, stranger.”

That got the crowd muttering. The odds that a first generation magus would have access to teleportation was nonexistent. A projected Noble Phantasm, however briefly? Laughably impossible.

I stood and pulled my student to her feet. A quick mystery sobered her right up again.

“Alright, it sounds like we’ve got time to kill,” I said. “I may as well register for classes here.”

“Here? Where is here?” Missy whisper-yelled.

“You wanted to watch, so Zelretch sent you with me. The Clock Tower doubles as a school. Imagine a snooty, British prep school, throw in college courses, and you wouldn’t be too far off.”

“So you’re just going to wait for this Ho–Mmph!”

I pinched her cheeks closed, making her lips pout like a goldfish. “Mouth. Shut. And yes, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

Whatever else that magus was going to say died in his throat as he stared at someone behind me. That silence spread through the lobby like rippling sparks across steel wool until the rhythmic click-clack of heels on marble was all I could hear.

I turned to find Lorelei Barthomeloi, Vice Director of the Clock Tower, Wizard Marshal of the Canticle Brigade, and the strongest modern magus staring me down with an icy glare. She needed no introductions; her magic and bearing did that well enough without a word spoken.

For a moment, I legitimately thought I’d stepped back in time or that a magus from the era of Merlin and Scathach had somehow come to the future. Sensing prana came naturally to me now, a byproduct of my awareness of souls, and I felt that even my teacher would have been moderately impressed with the woman.

That said, I’d win if it came down to a fight between us. There was no question about that. I was trained by Scathach. She said my magecraft was slapdash and barely passable, but she said that. I’d bet my bourbon collection that “barely passable” by her standards qualified me to be a Clock Tower department head in any field of thaumaturgy I cared to compete in.

I had the Heaven’s Feel and free access to the Throne. For all that people claimed Lorelei had refined her magecraft to the cusp of true magic, the gap between modern magecraft and one of the true magics was wider than the gap between a normal human and an endbringer. Without question, I was the eight hundred pound gorilla in the room.

That said, she was rightly called the Queen of the Clock Tower. She had enough influence to throw a wrench into the Holy Grail War with a single phone call. If she knew what that was… Carrier pigeon? I wouldn’t have been surprised to hear modern magi still preferred those.

And knowing magi, there were good odds she’d do so out of simple spite. Given I knew nothing of her personality, I opted to remain polite.

“Lady Barthomeloi,” I bowed forty-five degrees at the waist. “My companion and I apologize for the commotion.”

“An unfortunate victim of Schweinorg, no doubt. The traces of the Kaleidoscope are unmistakable,” she sniffed.

She looked me up and down and curled her lips in distaste. Though to be fair, I was wearing a pair of comfy jeans, t-shirt, and an apron that read, “Meat is murder, and we’re okay with that.”

“John Soprano, first generation magus, ma’am. My companion is Missy Biron.”

“Oh? Not a magus?” Her eyes narrowed into a glare. The Moonlit World was secret here. “Explain.”

“Through circumstances outside her control, she became involved in the Moonlit World. Though she is not a traditional magus, she acts as my companion and assistant.”

“Erase her memory or put her to death. Choose.”

I winced. I hadn’t expected her to be so gung ho about this, but perhaps I should have. Fighting wasn’t my first option, but so be it.

Then, before I could decide on a Noble Phantasm, the space between Lorelei and I widened considerably. I let out a sigh of relief at that. I hadn’t known if Missy would have her Shard or not; this answered that question.

“Woah, what’s this about death? And no one’s touching my head, lady,” Missy said.

“As you can see, I said she is not a traditional magus, ma’am,” I said diplomatically.

“Yeah, that. What he said.”

“Missy?”

“Yes, John?”

“Please shut up.”

“Hey, I’m not letting anyone wipe my memory.”

“No one’s wiping your memory. Look, vice director, we’re just trying to register, maybe obtain a workshop and attend a few classes.”

Lorelei stared me down. “And why has Schweinorg taken an interest in you, a mere first generation magus?”

I had no answer for this. “I’m a true magician,” was likely to get me a sealing designation and I didn’t actually want to turn London into a glass crater today.

So, I said the first words that came to mind.

“I’m a splendid chef.”

She blinked owlishly, like someone had told her they’d found a cat that laid golden eggs and pissed the elixir of life. “You’re a chef.”

“Yes, ma’am. I make food, specifically Texas barbeque.”

“He’s really good,” Missy added, definitely not helping.

“And Schweinorg decided to drop you into the Clock Tower because… he liked your cooking?” she asked skeptically.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said, putting a bit of that Texan drawl into my words. I was turning up my Lone Star, cowboy charm as much as possible. Nothing to see here, just a wholesome, all-American working man with a great recipe book to his name… “Now, I might be overstepping given I’ve only met the fellow once, but I’ve been led to believe the Wizard Marshal is exactly the sort to do this on a whim.”

Her glare was sharper than a knife. It gouged into me, trying to dig up whatever I was hiding. Unfortunately for her, my “dumb Texas hick” act got a lot of practice against a woman a whole lot more intimidating than her.

“He is,” she acquiesced finally. She turned and began to walk away, the crowd parting for her like Moses and the Red Sea. “Very well, don’t bring yourself to my attention again.”

We were in.

Author’s Note

New omake series? New omake series. Inspired by Fate/Stay Night Abridged, obviously.