Emiya mentally cursed fate once again for all the surprises it loved to throw at him.
When he first arrived in Damascus, he still harbored hope that he had time for a short rest, time to prepare for the coming storm. That hope died quite quickly with a letter from Altruj Brunstad, and the band of mercenaries had cynically trampled on the grave of his unfulfilled dreams.
He took the fight with the vampire knight more calmly, accepting it as an inevitability, after which he hoped to get at least some rest. But fate once again decided to test his resilience. An ironically cruel test, considering that in the vampire's lair among Islamic lands, he managed to meet the Holy Church's executioner.
If there was a God or some kind of divine entity in the sky, that creature had way too much free time!
Shiroг's hand clenched tightly around the Dainsleif's hilt. Internally, he was ready for battle, but the problem was that Emiya still hadn't fully recovered from the previous two fights. Moreover, this churchman, apparently, was also a mage. Shiro clearly understood that the slightest mistake in this fight could be his last. Judging by his haughty gaze and contemptuous smirk, the executioner was not planning to give him a second chance. In some ways, he resembled a snake, waiting for the right moment to strike at his prey, and Shiro needed to be prepared for that.
— The last chance, Hashishin, — Roa said with a smile, and the air around him began to crackle slightly. — Drop your weapon, you understand how ridiculous your resistance attempts will look.
— Here I would disagree… — Emiya replied with a smile, noticing movement behind the churchman's back.
By saying this, he perhaps made one of the biggest mistakes of his life...
This remark allowed the executioner to sharply turn around at the last second, holding up the Black Keys, partially blocking the blow that would have sliced his neck.
Nanaya, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, struck with his katana, cutting down two of the three keys, leaving a shallow cut on Roa's cheek with the tip of his blade. Blood splattered onto the dusty ground, and the churchman, recoiling, spat out a clump of crimson fluid. It was unpleasant for him to realize that the magic-infused steel burned his flesh, leaving not only a physical wound but also a mark that hindered regeneration. This realization wiped the smirk from his face, leaving only a cold rage.
Shiro didn't hesitate to seize the opportunity — he raised his sword, ready to decapitate the churchman with a single swing, but Roa's hand suddenly sparked with electricity and lit up.
Time Alter: Double Accel!
At the last moment, Shirou managed to accelerate the flow of time and dodge to the side before a lightning discharge sliced through the space between them, hitting the cave wall. The stone hissed and crumbled, turning to dust under the monstrous energy. Emiya only then felt the heat, as if he was standing close to a blazing fire.
— Accelerating time? How interesting… — Roa raised an eyebrow in surprise. — But you don't think that will be enough?
However, he clearly underestimated Nanaya's speed, allowing himself to be so dismissive of him. The assassin swiftly pierced Roa's ankle with his katana, then, without removing the blade, struck with four fingers at the churchman's stomach. Wrenching out the katana, the killer hit Roa's temple with the hilt, finally knocking him off balance, then performed a sweep, striking the wounded leg. The force of the blow was so great that Michael spun in the air before crashing to the ground with a loud noise.
It was clear they were very lucky to catch the executioner off guard. Approaching here, he clearly didn't expect to encounter two assassins, especially those with experience fighting mages. Moreover, in the narrow corridor of the cave, he couldn't fully unleash his magic, as it risked causing a collapse that would bury everyone alive—including the churchman himself.
Michael, writhing in pain, tried to retreat, but the assassin didn't give him that chance — Nanaya simply slammed his boot into his back, preventing him from moving. His gaze, usually distracted and almost indifferent, was now cold and focused, like a predator preparing for the final strike.
— It seems your god has abandoned you, Latin, — he said without a smile, raising his katana for the final blow. — Here, only Death...
— Wait… — Shiroi interrupted him with a gesture.
The killer clicked his tongue impatiently:
— Don't tell me you suddenly fell in love with your neighbor and decided to spare him, — he hissed irritably. — You almost took his head just a moment ago...
— Because I saw no other way, and now circumstances have changed, — Emiya replied, leaning over Roa's sprawled body. — I suppose you're more open to dialogue now?..
— Dialogue? I hope you don't expect me to confess to you after a couple of scratches? — the priest sneered, the air around him crackling again, but within a second, the blade of Dainsleif was thrust within millimeters of his neck.
— …Or I can just finish you here and now. I don't care either way, — Shirou finished indifferently, looking down at him.
— I have no idea what you want to talk to him about, but I have a feeling he's cowering before your rhetoric, Jashin, — Nanaya said with a smirk, removing his foot from the priest's body.
— One last attempt...
— Fine, fine, let's assume we've reached some kind of agreement, — Roa smiled friendly and, realizing that the threat to his life was temporarily over, hurried to get to his feet, spitting blood and brushing off dust. — I didn't want to kill you anyway, Hashishin — just to talk...
— A conversation with a knife at your throat? Typical for the Inquisition...
— Of course, if I politely asked, you'd show remarkable loquacity, right? — Roa replied ironically, somewhat embarrassed by the unfamiliar word.
What surprised Shirou a little was that the churchman switched to Arabic, which he spoke quite fluently, albeit with a noticeable accent.
— Well, well, our holy man can speak like a human? — Nanaya couldn't resist the irony, hiding his katana in its sheath behind his back.
— And how else can one carry the Word of God into these wild and forgotten lands? — Roa shrugged, unoffended by the remark.
— Enough, Nanaya, — Emiya softly warned, signaling them to stop their possible quarrel. Then he turned to the priest. — Let's start over. You're an executioner, right? From the Holy Church?
— The Thirteenth Department of the Holy See, though we prefer to call ourselves the Burial Bureau. At least, that's what my colleague prefers to call it, — Michael smirked, flashing a set of remarkably white teeth. — My name is already known to you, Hashishin, I suppose it would be polite to introduce yourself in return?
— Rashid-ad-Din Sinan, — Emiya answered again with a bitter irony, feeling the sharpness of the question. — Are you from the Crusader army?
At first, the priest was surprised to hear that word, then grimaced:
— Apparently, that pretentious name has already spread… so it is. As for your name… it seems quite familiar. Isn't that you who wiped out the Mithraist cult? The "Toothed Sun," if I'm not mistaken?
— Heard about you, Jashin? Even in the Eternal City, they know about your deeds, — Nanaya said with a disgusting sneer.
— Is my whole life now reduced to destroying a couple of fanatics? — Emiya muttered irritably.
— Those fire-worshippers have been a headache for the Vatican since its founding. No wonder that destroying their most active cell didn't go unnoticed, — Roa shrugged. — Though I must admit, you're clearly capable of more, having killed that vampire.
— It wasn't that difficult.
— I see… Well, as a servant of God, I should praise you for freeing the world from that pile of rotting flesh, but there's one small problem… I needed him, — Roa said, narrowing his eyes dangerously.
— Do you really think you could interrogate him? During our entire battle, he didn't say a word, so he probably wouldn't have been very talkative with you either.
— I didn't care about him. We were interested in his lord — Rizo Vaal-Straut...
— The Black Knight Altruj Brunstad? — Emiya asked with some surprise, then immediately reproached himself mentally.
— Huh?.. So you know such details? — Michael's eyes lit up with curiosity.
— I've heard of him and that vampire woman, nothing more, — Emiya replied evasively. — But since you're so interested, you came here because of her?
— Partly… — Roa answered evasively again, already preparing to continue questioning, but seeing Nanaya's eloquent grip on his katana's hilt, he decided not to push his luck. — Listen, Hashishin, I know we started off on the wrong foot, so I suggest we forget about this incident, get ourselves together, and talk like reasonable people. I'm sure we have things to share with each other...
— Unbelievable… and no promise of absolution for confessing everything we need to, just because we let you go? No redemption in the eyes of the Almighty? — Emiya smirked with irony. — Is a person of your stature really capable of reducing work for the glory of the Lord to a simple exchange of services?
— Oh, please, don't talk like the others. You're not like that, even if you try to pretend… — Roa shot him a strange, penetrating look, which made Emiya uncomfortable. — You're not like those blowhards, for whom the world is just black and white, and human life boils down to simple, predictable rules. Faith isn't geometry, made up of a set of laws — it's a mystery, just like any other magic...
— Mystery? Magic? — Nanaya said with suspicion, glancing at Roa. — I thought your brotherhood denied everything that existed before the appearance of that Son of God, considering everything else heresy.
— That's nothing but fairy tales for idiots who can't see beyond their noses, — Michael sneered contemptuously. — Magic and mystery aren't cheap tricks, but a connection to something greater than ourselves. It's the ability to feel and understand the world on a level inaccessible to the mind of a mere mortal. A chance to become something greater than yourself.
Having said that, he looked at Shirou strangely and, with a smirk, continued:
— If you open your heart to something and believe in it with all your soul, the world can turn out to be completely different from what you imagined. But to do that, you need to let go of your fears and simply believe… I'm sure you understand what I mean, don't you?
Emiya looked at the priest for a long time, who had made such a strange remark in his direction, but said nothing and walked toward the exit.
— We'll wait for you at the entrance. Heal yourself, and then we'll continue our conversation...
***
— I'm surprised to see you here… — Shirou said, turning to Nanaya as soon as they exited the cave. — How did you find me?
— I followed the scent… — Kazuhiro replied mockingly, but seeing Emiya's stern look, he sighed and explained matter-of-factly. — Shadia said you headed this way. I asked around a bit, and the locals whispered to me about this… "creepy cave"… — he stretched the words, dripping with irony. — Never thought places like that would attract you. Just like I never thought you'd be on good terms with the churchmen…
— I'm not on good terms with him, — Emiya hissed. — And stop mocking me, Nanaya. What the hell are you following me for? Don't you have other things to do?
— I actually saved your life!
— Yeah, because I was obviously screaming for help, — Shirou retorted sarcastically. Of course, he understood perfectly well that without the help of… a colleague… this fight would have been much tougher, but he didn't want to give him any extra reasons to bare his teeth. — You have a mission, Nanaya, so you'd better carry it out.
— As soon as you explain why the hell you spared that Latin guy, — Kazuhiro narrowed his eyes. — I think I deserve at least an answer to that question as thanks.
— He might be useful to me, — Emiya cut him off dryly, but seeing that the assassin was not satisfied with that answer, he sighed and added. — He's from the crusader army, and clearly not some low-ranking guy. That means he could be a valuable source of information and the very link between us and the Franks that we're currently missing.
— And you believe he'll just trust you like that?
— Of course not! — Shirou snapped with a hint of irritation. He was frankly getting annoyed that Nanaya thought so highly of himself to interrogate him so boldly. — But I have what he needs, and he has what I need. It's an exchange of services, nothing binding and uncompromising. And that language is understood in any culture, at any time…
— Still…
— Shut up already! — Emiya cut him off angrily, stepping close and fixing him with a piercing gaze. — What do you think of yourself, interrogating me like a naughty kid? Or do you think that one kind gesture from you will suddenly make me feel brotherly love and trust for you?
A heavy silence hung in the air, as if even the air itself froze in anticipation. The men's faces were dangerously close, close enough to see the devilish sparks of an impending storm dancing in each other's eyes.
— I decide for myself what to do and who to talk to, — Emiya ground out through his teeth. — And you, Nanaya, are not the person to tell me how to act. Got it?
He stepped back a pace, giving Nanaya a chance to respond and save face. But his gaze still held readiness for a fight. Emiya was prepared to defend his independence by any means. He had long been used to relying only on himself and wasn't ready to dance to anyone's tune without good reason.
— Calm down, Rashid… — Kazuhiro raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. He rarely used Shirou's real name, which only added gravity to his words. — I'm just trying to understand your train of thought. This whole story, this whole mission… there's a lot more hidden beneath the surface, isn't there? You didn't agree to this for no reason, right? You know something, you feel something. And that something makes you take risks, making questionable alliances. Don't deny it, Rashid.
Kazuhiro stepped forward, closing the distance between them. His gaze was calm and firm. He didn't pressure, but he didn't back down either. The assassin expected Shiro to open up, to share his fears and plans.
— I'm not questioning your professionalism, Rashid. I just want to make sure we're on the right path, not blindly wandering in the dark. Tell me what you see that we don't. Tell me what's gnawing at you. Then we can deal with it together. After all, we're brothers, and brothers should trust each other.
Shirou barely held back a laugh in his face. He certainly didn't expect such a reprimand from him. He turned away, smiling slightly. The butcher Nanaya, with his talks of duty and brotherhood in this situation, seemed almost comical, but something in his voice and firm gaze said he was being sincere. Or at least playing the part well.
— I can't tell you anything because I don't know more than you, — Emiya answered after a moment's thought. — All I have are guesses, riddles, hints, and hundreds of questions with thousands of answers, none of which I can be sure of. So I have nothing to tell you, at least for now.
Shirou turned back to Kazuhiro. There was no anger or irritation in his eyes, only fatigue and a kind of detachment.
— I would tell you if I knew something for sure, — Shirou added sincerely. — But I have nothing but fragments of information that don't form a complete picture. I can't risk acting on mere guesses. Too much is at stake. Including our lives.
Nanaya said nothing, lost in thought. Shiro sighed again, gathering his thoughts:
— I need more time, Kazuhiro. More information. And I promise, as soon as I find a guiding thread, I'll tell you immediately. But for now… we'll have to act blindly…
***
The Saruja Market in Damascus, like any Eastern market, had its own unique features.
It began with a large square where sheep, camels, and horses brought for sale were stationed, among which vendors and buyers hurried about, interested in the goods.
Breaking through this stench of sweat and urine, as well as the hum of a thousand voices, one could reach the first row of low market stalls, inside which their owners sat on various carpets directly on the ground, surrounded by their merchandise. The closer to the center of the market, the denser the crowd and the brighter and richer it became.
Passing by another teahouse, from which an intoxicating smell of couscous and sizzling kebabs wafted, Shiro felt his stomach, unable to withstand such torture, growl loudly. Nothing surprising, since he last ate in the morning before heading to the vampire's lair, and a light snack of basturma didn't count as a proper meal.
Next to the teahouse, traders had gathered around heaps of watermelons, melons, dried fruits, and pomegranates, emitting an unbearable, dizzying aroma under the scorching sun. All of this, mixed with the smell of pilaf, kebabs, and flatbreads, created a unique, thick aroma of the Eastern market, filling the lungs instead of air.
Unable to resist and having bought a few honey flatbreads with baklava, Emia stepped forward with measured steps.
- Do you think this is a good place for meetings? — Roa, walking beside him, asked with a slight irony.
- Here, no one will eavesdrop on us; everyone is too busy trying to leave each other without their pants, — the assassin replied, enjoying the taste of the flatbreads. - A couple of idlers won't attract attention.
Roa snorted, glancing at the colorful crowd. The market changed with each step, yet remained the same: the smell of fried meat mixed with cheap perfume, and the noise of hundreds of voices blended into an indescribable cacophony, to which it was quite difficult to get used.
- Babylon in all his glory… — a thought crossed the churchman's mind.
- Well, maybe now you'll finally tell me what brought you here? Or rather, what brought your brotherhood, because by your own account, you are clearly far from the usual knights of the cross and sword, — Shirou asked casually, finishing another flatbread and moving on to the next with pleasure.
- I suppose the common point is clear to you. The Church has always considered Jerusalem and all of Judea one of the most important places for Christianity, on par with the Eternal City. After the Arabs expelled the Greeks from here, it became much harder for us to operate, which prompted many apostates and other filth to seek refuge in these lands.
- I doubt that if you win, you'll be able to manage this paradise on earth, — Shirou said with a smile. - Even I, having been here for just a couple of years, keep marveling at the tangled knot that's been spun here…
- Indeed… mage-renegades, covens of witches, fire-worshipping cults that have been here since Roman times, not to mention… enemies of mankind… — Roa agreed with barely concealed pomp. - Frankly, the situation now is such that it's easier to just wipe out the entire region than to try to gently bring some order to this incoherent swamp… especially considering the parasites that have taken root here.
- Apostles…
- Yes. Recently, we've started receiving reports of their increased activity in this region. Usually, reports about them don't cause much excitement among us — quite the opposite, their appearance in such numbers often leads to internecine conflicts, which works in our favor. But this time, reports have come about the presence of certain individuals here who cannot be ignored…"
— Altrouge Brunestad.
They made a brief stop, letting a passing colorful crowd go by. Shirou couldn't help but feel how the churchman had been carefully scrutinizing him all this time, literally burning him with his gaze. After a short pause, he responded with a slight nod:
- Yeah. Honestly, I'm still amazed at your level of information. You clearly know more than a person of your position should. Especially considering that your gathering, as far as we know, doesn't get involved in the occult side of local affairs.
- Oh, Roa, you flatter our modest organization, — Shirou said in a subdued baritone. - We are just observers, humble chroniclers of history, whose ink is blood. We try to be, at least. But even an observer sometimes has to gather the shards of a broken mirror to see the whole picture.
Michael's eyes sparkled when he caught the hidden irony in Shirou's words, but he managed to keep his emotions under control. Meanwhile, the assassin continued his interrogation:
- As I understand it, you arrived with the rest of the troops to use them as a strike force and create a foothold for the Holy Church in this region…
- Yes, I and a few key agents arrived to assess the situation, eliminate threats, and coordinate overall, — the churchman confirmed.
- And who is your leader?
- Ademar Montéiel, the personal legate of the Pope. Officially, he is in charge of the Holy Church's branch in this region and of us personally…
- …but in practice, you are on your own and report more on what has already been done rather than on the presence of the cardinal here, — Emiya finished his thought, sending a baklava into his mouth.
- Exactly. And since I've satisfied your curiosity, it's time for you to answer the same, — Michael said with a hint of steel in his voice. - What do you know about Brunestad?
Shirou didn't answer immediately. He paused for a few moments, contemplating whether to reveal all his cards to the churchman or try to feed him a completely fabricated story. But he quickly dismissed those thoughts. Roa seemed surprisingly perceptive, and lying to him was clearly not advisable. After some thought, Emia casually replied:
- I've encountered her recently.
- And you're still alive and able to tell about it?" — Roa asked after a short pause, scrutinizing him with an assessing look. - Either she found you amusing and let you go for a laugh, or you're the luckiest person in this God-forsaken place.
Shirou shrugged. His gaze remained impassive. He was not one to be easily provoked or to try to impress with stories, but he explained casually:
- Luck has nothing to do with it. More likely, our paths crossed under very… specific circumstances. She was looking for something, and I was able to offer her something.
Roa looked at the assassin again with a skeptical expression, then asked with understandable doubt:
- And what is that?
- Mages don't reveal their secrets, Michael, you should know that, — Emiya said with a condescending smile. - I received from her information, knowledge that could be useful in the future. Information whose value you might not immediately appreciate, but believe me, it's worth the risk. And to answer your likely next question, yes, I am experienced enough to distinguish benefit from poison when dealing with such individuals.
The churchman's pupils dangerously narrowed.
- You understand who you're admitting to dealings with?
- You understand that I could have killed you, but I didn't? — Shirou's gaze instantly grew cold, and his face became serious. - And let's be honest, you haven't told me anything that would justify my mercy…
- Charming. And you'll keep feeding me this information every time, as if it's another fresh portion of kebabs? — Roa snorted with irony. - Let's be frank, you're not naive enough to mistake luck for your merit. In a fair fight, I'd roast you so thoroughly that your flesh would drip off your bones like melted fat…
Emiya interrupted him, unshaken by the veiled threat:
- Don't make me laugh. You, mages, only remember fair duels when you realize you have no chance in a real fight. If I had allowed my partner to gut you in that cave, you wouldn't be complaining about bad luck or honor. You'd be too busy picking your internal organs off the floor…
A heavy, tense silence hung in the air, like a stretched string. The churchman glared at the assassin with a mixture of anger and contempt. Emiya, for his part, maintained an impassive expression, though internally prepared for any development. Michael, of course, was convincingly playing the role of a stormy master of the elements capable of turning an opponent into an unattractive puddle of fat, but something told Shirou that further verbal threats wouldn't go beyond words — at least for now. Roa simply had a talent for creating dramatic pauses and vivid metaphors, but his hands were tied, whether he liked it or not.
- We could argue for a long time, or… help each other, — Shiro said, breaking the tension. - It so happened that our interests currently align, and I'm ready to extend a hand of cooperation…
- Really?" — Roa asked skeptically. If he was surprised by Emia's proposal, he didn't show it. And I sense a 'but' coming?
- …but first, you need to do something for me, — the assassin added with a condescending smile.
- And what is that?
- Arrange a meeting for me, — Shirou finished with a grim smile...
***
The enveloping steam, like the breath of a mystical djinn, penetrated deep into the lungs, warming him to the bone.
Shiroг, with a satisfied sigh, stepped into the hammam—not just a bathhouse, but a true hall of dreams, filled with ancient rituals and exquisite luxury. The stone slabs beneath his feet held not only the warmth given off by thousands of bodies but also centuries of history, like pages of a chronicle whispered through conversations. The fountain in the center of the hall babbled like silver bells, calming the mind and soothing the soul, reminding one of the transience of all things. The air was filled with the scent of sandalwood and almond, mixed with a light aroma of healing herbs, creating an indescribable symphony of the East that teased the senses.
In the dim light of the dome, decorated with mosaics, the reflections of oil lamps flickered like stars mirrored in the surface of a pond at night. Here and there, like shadows of dancers, figures of men wrapped in towels moved. Some conversed leisurely, weaving a carpet of wisdom, while others indulged in silent meditation, like hermits in a cave.
Shiroг washed himself with warm water from a pitcher, then began the cleansing ritual: a rough mitt scrubbed away layers of old skin like the husk of an onion, freeing the pores and allowing the body to breathe, as if breathing new life into it.
- Not the usual place for a meeting, - Azir said thoughtfully, sitting by a small pool and glancing at Emiya from the corner of his eye.
- To wash away blood, soot, and dirt after all those saber dances is an incomparable pleasure… - Shirou sighed, dousing himself with water once more.
He was not lying. Visits to these Arab baths were always bliss for him. When it came to hygiene, the locals truly understood. Like a silk cocoon, the steam wrapped around him, dissolving the weight of worries and anxieties, as if evaporating them into clouds of amber incense. The marble slabs beneath his feet, warm as the breath of the earth, embraced him, carrying him away into a world of bliss and relaxation. The water, like liquid gold, flowed over his body, washing away the dust of roads and the burden of past days.
- They say a Christian should bathe only twice in life: at birth and on the wedding day, - Emiya smirked, sitting opposite his companion and pouring palm wine into a cup.
- Hearing such words, I'm less and less confident that the Crusaders will succeed in their endeavor… - Azir snorted doubtfully.
- That's where you owe me help, - Shirou said, getting to the point as he sipped the wine. The drink was sweet and slightly intoxicating, though the alcohol was barely noticeable. - Now you have a unique chance to lift the heavy burden from your dark little soul…
- 'Lift the heavy burden'? What a wonderful offer. I can almost feel the earth cracking under the weight of my sins. You probably think I'm just waiting for a chance to become your loyal squire.
- If you've poured out all your irony, you can start talking. Otherwise… - Emiya fixed his companion with such a look that Azir shivered slightly. - I can finish what I didn't complete at that cemetery at any moment.
The mercenary looked away and asked in a more casual tone:
- Short version or long?
- They say the truth lies somewhere in the middle, so try not to complicate it, but don't leave out details.
- If very briefly, the organization's goal is not to defeat the Crusaders, although that would certainly benefit them, - Azir said after a short pause, taking a small sip of wine and wiping sweat from his forehead. - The real goal is chaos.
- Chaos? - Emiya repeated, tilting his head slightly.
- The longer this war lasts, the better for them. All this chaos, turmoil, many deaths… it seems they had a hand in the discord among the Seljuks, which is why the sons of Melik-Shah are now bitterly feuding. The arrival of the Crusaders was an unexpected but very pleasant surprise, as it added more branches to the fire of war in these lands.
Shirou frowned. The described situation was intriguing but absurdly ridiculous. Chaos. And for what? It was doubtful it was for power. Chaos for chaos's sake sounded even more absurd.
- So what's the endgame?
- New things are born in chaos. Creation comes through destruction. Only by passing through the crucible of war can the world be cleansed of corruption and prepared for the arrival of… something greater.
Shirou took another sip of wine, trying to gather his thoughts. A cloying aftertaste lingered on his lips, like after a deceptively sweet lie. Azir was clearly withholding something, hiding something far more significant behind his ornate words. His mention of "something greater" sounded ominously ambiguous.
- That's not all you know, is it? - he asked, drilling into him with his gaze.
- Do you really think I'll answer you? That I'll lay all my cards on the table so easily? No, my friend, some secrets are better kept. Let that be my little secret. Besides, if I told you everything at once, the value of my life would plummet in your eyes, and I want to live long enough to see their plans crumble.
Shirou involuntarily smiled, appreciating the cynical pragmatism. Azir's words carried a mix of pride and fear—pride in possessing valuable information and fear of becoming a victim of his own knowledge. Was he really naive enough to believe his attempts at mystery would impress an assassin? Perhaps it was just a way to fill an awkward silence. Well, all the better. While Azir tried to seem important, Shiro could calmly consider the situation and find an effective way to extract useful information.
- And yet, such care for your life. Truly touching. It almost brings on a fit of tenderness. Especially that 'seeing their plans crumble.' That's a whole life goal! Azir—the true hero of this era, ready to sacrifice everything… except his secrets. And, of course, for the greater good!
Shirou smiled and, filling his voice with ironic venom, began slowly:
- Yes, Azir… your caution is simply the height of prudence. And as I understand it, I'll have to admire it from afar while you hide in the shadows, patiently waiting for the fruits of your labor to grow. How lucky I am to be near such a titan of thought! In moments like these, you can't help but believe in humanity. And that someday we'll all reach Azir's level of wisdom… or at least learn to be as masterfully silent. Probably because of your modesty, you're not yet sitting on a throne, sipping nectar and dispensing wise advice to all who suffer? But don't worry, everything has its time. Maybe in five hundred years, when your secrets mature enough, you'll finally decide to share them with the world. Or at least hint at their existence?
Azir grimaced but remained silent. He was already regretting starting this conversation.
- Your suggestions are certainly very… original. I'm afraid I have nothing to respond to such generosity of your wit except silent admiration, - he raised his glass in a toast to Shirou, then drained it in one gulp.
- Well, see, Azir! And you said silence was your only talent, - Emiya smiled ironically. - Turns out you also know how to skillfully dodge a conversation! - Then his face instantly grew serious, and all mirth vanished from his voice. - Now that the lyrical digression is over, it's time for you to give me something truly valuable and concrete…
Feeling the sharp change in the assassin's tone, Azir grimaced resignedly.
- Alright. I… don't know all the details, but… I managed to hear some things. From what I know, the current goal is to sow discord among the Crusaders, slowing their advance. Their conquering impulse turned out to be unexpectedly strong, against all predictions. The discord among the Seljuks and Fatimids played no small part in this.
- And how do they plan to slow this unstoppable tide of light and goodness?
- Doesn't matter how—what matters is that resources have already been allocated and people recruited. The work is underway, though not as fast as planned. The difficulty is that all these Crusaders are very different people with very different goals. Some seek power, some wealth, and some truly believe in the holiness of their cause. Each requires a different approach. Some can be persuaded to abandon their path, while others may be blind to the subtle arguments of my former comrades.
- Chaos… huh? - Shirou muttered thoughtfully, feeling the word suddenly gain a terrible weight in his mind, as if something greater stood behind it.
He had always considered chaos an abstract concept, something like a synonym for disorder or unpredictability. But now, at this very moment, chaos felt almost tangible, like a sticky web entangling everything around. It was not just the absence of logic or plan; it was something malevolent, actively striving to destroy any hint of order.
This thought made him shudder. He knew he couldn't just sit and ponder. He had to start acting to understand how to control this force, how to direct it in the right direction. Otherwise… the consequences could be catastrophic.
Shirou opened his eyes full of determination. Ahead lay a long and difficult path, but he was ready to walk it.
As he was summing up this interim mental conclusion, an otherworldly hissing whistle sounded in his mind, and a strange haze enveloped his consciousness, everything around shrouded in shadows and miasma…
A sharp burst of burning pain tore him from his stupor, forcing him back to the mortal reality, but a moment before the darkness dissipated, Emiya saw a pair of brightly glowing snake eyes staring at him from the darkness, the owner of which hissed his name…
- Sh-sh-sh-Shirou… Sh-sh-sh-Shirou… Sh-sh-Shirou…