Archive of Our Own ^beta

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Welcome to an odd project that is largely an in-character journal growing beyond its original expectations. 

The Once and Future King: Civilization V Addition is a mix of both an in-character let's play and it's own crossover story based from the events of the game. The game itself is a single player and heavily modded rendition of Civilization V. It's a fairly standard eight player setup, with all Civilizations as fictional groups modded into the game. It starts in the ancient era on a continent's map with fairly standard settings on the Prince difficulty. There are several additional mods effecting art, minor gameplay mechanics, city states, and religious terminology. As a result I claim only the OC standing in as Arturia's new Master as my own design. While as thanks to a certain group inspiring me to start and keep this project going there will be a shout out or two. 

Now as this is based on a game I'd like to list and, and my extension credit, the mods used to alter that game. This will be done via hyperlinks to their steam pages. I believe this to me more effective than just a list of names as it will enable readers to find the full information on the mod's own page. Such as the author and the in-game information for each Civ's unique traits.

Game Mechanic Alterations

Fire Emblem Artwork Overhaul: https://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=1631696879 

Fire Emblem Natural Wonders: https://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=1566648705 

Fire Emblem World Wonders: https://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=340179722 

Fire Emblem Religions: https://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=1404229695 

Fire Emblem City States: https://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=1137806314 

Fire Emblem Villages and Brigands: https://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=1460977916 

Fire Emblem Accurate Diplomacy: https://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=1465900579 

Civilizations

Archaon of Chaos:  https://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=297191698&searchtext=Archaon

Arturia of Britain: https://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=153541054 

Berkut of Rigel: https://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=1124435955

Eirika of Renais: https://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=1104884824 

Gilgamesh of Sumer: https://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=154609248

Lyon of Grado: https://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=1106798972&searchtext=Lyon

Medeus of Dolhr: https://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=1334269321 

Naked Snake of the MSF: https://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=169564537&searchtext=Metal+Gear

Chapter Text

Have I been summoned once more? I find myself on an unrecognizable shore, devoid of any sign of civilization… Hm, but it is certainly populated. A group of nomads? Perhaps settlers and a loose-knit group of warriors, if they so can be called. One among the people stands out. I couldn’t miss his white hair and golden eyes if I tried. Yet it’s the faint red glow of command seals emanating from his right hand that draws my eyes. That’s right… I had failed to claim the Holy Grail a second time. A new master, a new Grail War, I had thought myself ready to let go of my desire to attempt another reign. I’d let go of the idea of gaining a second chance to do right by Britain and Camelot. Yet that is exactly what these people ask of me. My Master likewise has no intent on political power. He will act as chamberlain, but this Leofstan Ashworth insists I am meant to be king. This is not my world. It cannot be, as neither the Grail nor Gaia permit the dead to rule the living. Something would already be in motion to strike me down for accepting if I was anywhere connected to my homeland.

The people vaguely resemble those I once led. Far as I am concerned this is some distorted parallel of my Britain. My first order is building a permanent village on the coast, it shall serve as my second Camelot. They know enough of agriculture to make it possible, but otherwise I shall have to build this city’s knowledge from the ground up. Optimistically…. I will have learned from last time. I remember *everything* despite the summoning’s norms. This time I must be less detached, and distance myself from the heartless ‘perfect king’ I once was, lest the people grow to fear me as in my original reign. I may have started that fear already… Before I started recording this the leader among their warriors challenged my master and I for dominance. His club shattered upon my head harmlessly like a twig dashed upon steel, and I spent the next minute or so swinging him about like a ragdoll to prove the point that he was incapable of deposing me. It sufficed, but if there’s a next time I’ll crush his skull in my grasp. There will not be rebellion and civil wars in the Second Camelot. I had my fill of that tomfoolery long before perishing at Camlann. For that matter I’ll have to see about building an army to crush any barbarians and raiders that begin invading my territory.

This world saps my power quite quickly if I venture too far from my city… Perhaps the natural order here has some restriction against a Servant King after all. The first arrangements shall be to train a scouting party and some research into basic construction… pottery perhaps? For the time being the warriors will take up the task of scouting. They head east past the river emptying into the sea by Camelot for now. It is more important to know the lay of the land than stay huddled until proper scouts are ready.

I’ve spoken to me new Master a length while the new city of Camelot carries out these tasks. It seems I’ve lucked out on gaining a powerful anchor to this world. His name is Leofstan Ashworth. Despite the inhuman coloring to his hair and eyes he appears to be an ordinary mortal. His lineage however… I daresay as a Magus he nearly rivals the Tohsaka bloodline. Which makes his attire as a butler quite confusing to me. Normally mages of this caliber are effectively nobility. Stranger still he had little idea exactly what manner of situation we’re in together. Leofstan however proved to be a quick leaner. What I explained to him is quite redundant to myself… however as my new Chamberlain he’ll have access to this journal at times, so I’ll leave a few memory refreshers for Ashworth.

Servants like myself are the highest class of familiar that Magecraft has to offer. Spirits of the long dead given new form on par with being outright resurrected. Normally we’re restrained by only being summoned as part of a contract. Otherwise a Servant would be nearly unstoppable. We don’t hunger, tire, or age. Non-magical means of attack cannot so much as scratch a Servant, as our new bodies are comprised of pure magical energy. This also enhances a Servant to superhuman heights. Sensory perception, strength, endurance. Forget crushing a skull, I could punch through tank armor if I wanted to. As such… Ordinarily the will of the world rejects such an existence. Without an external source of mana acting as an anchor, a Servant would be violently, constantly, stripped of their mana until they cease to exist. Other than that, fatal magical damage to the heart or brain could crush a Servant’s true vital organ, their Spirit Origin. A metaphysical crystallization copying our original soul left behind in the afterlife. Yet for a normal human, even a magus… Such damage is nigh impossible to produce without being killed in the process.

Of course, this means betraying and killing one’s Master is quite easy for a Servant. He’s a fine magus, I’ve seen several great magi and I think Leofstan would stand a significant chance of victory in a duel to the death with them. Yet I could crush him like an insect. Even a near miss from my Noble Phantasm could utterly destroy him. I can’t risk that happening due to another Servant. We’ll conduct a minor ritual to infuse my Noble Phantasm, *Avalon The Ever-Distant Utopia* into Leofstan’s body within the day. I digress. The restraint preventing this kind of casualty takes the form of Command Seals, which can be used to cast Command Spells. A symbol made of three interlocking red marks somewhere on the Master’s body. By expending one Leofstan could force me to obey any command… even commit suicide. That will be unnecessary, as we’ve already made a mutual alliance. Sometime later I should inquire about him in turn. I’ve never seen a lantern made into a Mystic Code before… and with this mana intensity I gain from our contract I wonder if he has a Family Crest. Questions for another time, we’ve a city to build.

Entry Two: First meeting with another Civilization.

It’s barely been a day or two since my arrival. As expected, there are other tribes, soon to be nations to compete with. A group of warriors hailing from another country have stumbled upon those I sent to gather the lay of the land. To be discovered this soon means we have a worryingly close neighbor. I venture from my ramshackle keep to meet them… It seems their leader had the same idea.

I’m not quite sure what to make of this Restoration Queen Eirika. She seems at once both wise beyond her apparent years and naïve. She claims to dislike conflict, yet her stance is one familiar with it and on guard. Most importantly my Master watching distantly reports something troubling… Queen Eirika is a Servant. I shall record some of our conversation, for memory’s sake.

Arturia: Well met, Queen Eirika. I am King Arturia Pendragon of Britain. It is good news indeed that the first nation I’ve encountered on this land is a peaceful one.

Eirika: So, that mean’s you’re new here as well? I was hoping to meet someone who could make sense of this land.

Arturia: Then we share a vexation. I’ll not impede your scouting efforts… but do not enter my territory.

Eirika: You distrust Renais already?

Arturia: I’ve had quarrelsome neighbors before... You’ve made a good impression to earn trust, but it is not so easily given.

Eirika: Lamentable, but fair. Perhaps you’d be willing to exchange what you’ve learned of this strange land thusfar? …Or this foreign magic I sense about you?

We speak for several hours after that. Most of it is spent trying to define the nature of this world. I dodge the questions about my supernatural nature. Eirika is ignorant of Servants and the Holy Grail. I would spare her the knowledge of that tainted artifact if I can. Much less that we may have been called here purely to kill each other to satisfy it’s contract. Instead I speak of the original Britain. Meanwhile the history of her own land and this dark entity ‘Demon King Fomortiis’ weighs heavily enough on the young queen. Even with my secretive approach I feel she’ll figure out the Servant information soon, if Eirika is not merely feigning ignorance. It’s too soon to put anything past her.

Eirikia: That was enlightening for what little we’ve discovered. Yet, I feel I should return to Renais Keep soon. Farewell.

Arturia: It is about time I returned to the command of Camelot. Farewell, Lady Eirika.

She’s nearly departed by the time I finish speaking. Eirikia’s aura is weaker according to my Master… does she lack a Master, or perhaps overburden a weak one? My questions about this situation have easily tripled from this conversation alone. The land of Magvel Eirika spoke of as her home is unlikely to have ever existed on my version of Earth. I record this while traveling back to Camelot as humans do. Leofstan, nearby, keeps me on the right path. The odd blue glow of his lantern from beyond the corner of these pages is difficult to miss.

Entry Three: Villains, Barbarians, and Hero Worship

Several new discoveries abound. Despite being ambushed by barbarians during my return from meeting Queen Eirika, I find the way my people have begun to venerate me more disturbing. The barbarians had been foolish enough to target me directly. Their axes could not mar a Servant’s body. They fled wailing into the woods after I hoisted their leader with one hand and crushed his neck. Killing him this way was disgusting. I should not openly wield Excalibur yet, it could reveal too much of my abilities to other Servants. A few others of the initial wave lie smoldering on the ground, scorched to the bone in several places by my chamberlain’s magecraft. None of them had gotten close enough to test their blades against him. The ever-present lantern at his waist was held aloft, a phrase or two in a language I cannot place was spoken, and scything arcs of azure flame laid waste to several of our attackers.

Worse than simply being feared, these shows of strength have given my people strange ideas. I’ve found offerings left at my dwelling, and they whisper reverent things about me. Have I become something akin to a deity to them? This feels wrong. The people work harder as a result of this ‘worship’ but my people seeing me as something inhuman cost me dearly in my first reign… It is most notable around the dwelling I’m slowly building into a proper keep. The construction effort is quite zealous, and nearby stations for other resources strive to match this inspiration.

Perhaps it was the first village we encountered offering religious relics for Britain’s protection that spurred this. The second, beset by a barbarian camp right outside their borders, offered knowledge and cultural insight. With that I have managed to establish the start of a noble tradition to refine Britain’s society, and the first lessons in martial honor. My people will better record and learn from their past. While making some military discipline inherit to Camelot’s society will ease the task dispersing the hordes of savages. The barbarian camp will be destroyed in short order. I am no stranger to this need to kill in order to protect my people, and with these villages protect others. Although it pains me to continue feeding these ‘Hero King’ visions my people build in the process. Perhaps someday I can reign in this foolishness of seeing me as a goddess into something constructive. Either way for now I must attend assuming a direct lead again. The scouts are almost ready to set out and I believe my guidance necessary for expanding our housing arrangements as Camelot grows.

Chapter Text

Entry Four: Charting the Great Forest, and the Empire of Rigel.

After quelling the barbarian encampment, both the archer and scouting units responsible continue tracing the forests along the western coast. They chart a course northward. The ancient architecture and oddly silent central forest they’ve found merits interest. Perhaps it could be studied? Some of my people claim it to be a holy site… Later, perhaps. The archers will break off to join the subjugation of the nearby savages with a troop of warriors. The scouts continue northward for now as I must know the shape of this landmass and who else inhabits it. On a side note, I believe Britain's knowledge of animals has reached the point that we may begins stabling horses and livestock.

A few days journey later the scouts find a hastily constructed castle and territory border to answer one of the questions. Thankfully I’m still able to assume spirit form to provide easier traveling for these visits. Yet something about the castle we found deep in the forest as they twisted and morphed into a jungle felt wrong… The mana surrounding of the palace feels substantially darkened, as if something tainted the place. The self-titled ‘Emperor’ of this nation seemed normal enough at first…

Emperor Berkut of Rigel I am certain I understand. He bears the eyes of someone who yet feels a need to prove himself. I see some of my knight Mordred in Berkut. Whatever he sought in his own world went un-achieved. My Master has divined that Berkut’s nature is somewhere between a Wraith and a Servant, that darkness pervading Rigel is likely what sustains him. Though the thought of a Magus outside our senses is not impossible. I’ll try to keep the conversation record to the point.

Arturia: Greetings, Emperor Berkut. I am Arturia Pendragon, King of Britain. Indeed, I am high born as rightful heir to the throne… but will you really determine our relationship solely on that?

Berkut: Then you’re worth speaking to. Commoners cannot lead a nation and were you one pretending to do as such I’d have thrown you out immediately.

Arturia: Your preferences aside, might I ask if Rigel has discovered much of this world’s nature yet?

Berkut: Hmph. That was going to be my question to you. These blundering Neanderthals I’m forced to make do with haven’t uncovered much.

Arturia: Lovely. I’m going to guess we’ll settle into staring at each other from our borders for a time then.

Berkut: You presume correctly. I’ve enough on my plate without worrying about foreigners. We’ll get along fine enough should you avoid contesting my borders.

Arturia: Fair enough. Shall we make any arrangements for continued communication?

Berkut: I’ll see about arranging a path through the jungle for messengers. I mean no disrespect, but your assistance is not required in the matter. I’ll contact you when it becomes necessary.

I can’t tell if he legitimately means nothing by it but it’s obvious from this change in tone that Berkut does not want me here much longer. For a moment I catch him looking at my scouts like sizing up a meal. The intensity of his gaze only grows worse when one of them steps back openly showing fear. We know how Berkut gains his required mana now.

Arturia: Then I’ll take my leave. Our meeting was a pleasure, Emperor.

We depart Rigel in haste. My entourage save for Leofstan appear quite unnerved by the encounter. It’s fortunate that I’ve been summoned by someone with valor. Paying greater attention on the way back, traveling with my scouts for a way, it becomes apparent that Berkut is hardly the only undead among Rigel. Animate corpses and skeletons prowl the jungle as soldiers posted as guards would. They’re sapient enough to speak, and despite their horrific nature they inform us of a less obstructed route along Rigel’s borders of their own volition. For following the advice of walking corpses, the proposed route works out quite nicely. 

Entry Five: Here There Be Dragons

Britain’s subjugation quest near Rigel meets with a surprise. Both a unit of spearmen from yet another new nation, and tale of a great beast sighted further north by my scouts. It was difficult calming them down enough to accurately describe the creature. I’m starting to think each new civilization will be more alarming than the last… According to my scouts, a dragon was seen giving orders to the spearmen we just met. Hardly a day passes as I investigate the area personally before the dragon is sighted again, and my troops scattered upon realizing it is flying right at us. I can hardly blame them. Even with what little I know of dragons this one is clearly massive. A Phantasmal Beast of that size must have a Magic Core on par with a nuclear reactor to fully sustain itself… Yet even in these moments of urgency part of me wonders what breeding gets a purple dragon. I recall clearly the tense moment of the beast landing before me. I was inches away from drawing Excalibur and preparing to use my full power when the dragon… changed shape. Evidently, to speak with me.

Or exchange insults at least. What to make of Medeus…? He’s going to be a right bastard to deal with.

Arturia: I am Arturia Pendragon, Once and Future King of Britain and I cede to no one!

Medeus: … Another self-important worm. I am Medeus, the Shadow Dragon, Emperor of Dolhr. You could have painlessly accepted the inevitable by simply acknowledging your kind’s limits.

Arturia: What was that about self-importance? I’m starting to think you belong on a leash. I hear dragonkind make excellent steeds.

Medeus: You stand before the destroyer of empires, impudent girl. I have crushed the populace of continents, ended dozens of lineages, outlasted death itself…

Arturia: You prattle on before the King of Knights, decaying lizard. You won’t be the first dragon I’ve had mounted on a wall. I vaporize fortresses, trample armies, and have bested some of the greatest heroes my world can…

In hindsight I can’t remember the full exchange before we began to resemble something civil. I think it started with me making an honest inquiry regarding…

Arturia: So, this dragon, manakete, supremacy business. Could we please pause the bickering long enough for you to succinctly explain its origin?

Medeus: That is a valid question for my empire is foreign to these lands. Humans… through malice or incompetence have proven themselves incapable of governing even the simplest tribes; or treating other races as anything better than expendable cattle. Humankind shall be brought to heel and educated by their betters. Perhaps after I have taught them firsthand what crimes humans have persecuted against my people.

Arturia: I see several flaws in directing that at me. First, I have dragon blood, albeit distantly related. Second, I was trained by a nigh-omniscient wizard from my early teens to be exactly the kind of ruler who ends such tyranny. Third, seeking vengeance only makes you less qualified as king.

Medeus: Hm, an impressive rebuttal for one of your ilk. You may be worth granting a privileged position to later. If you survive the fall of your kingdom.

An empire of racist dragons, manketes, whichever, to the far Northeast. I must see if we’ve made headway researching fermentation yet. I fear I'll have need of stiff drink soon.

Entry Six: Restraining Order

Another group of foreign warriors has wandered close to Camelot. They came from the direction of Renais, yet their attire is something I can’t see Eirika ever fielding. They look too native to this primitive BC era. That excess of golden colors is too garish for Renais as well… I think I recognize the most absurdly golden amo--- no. I am not dealing with this one. Leofstan can field this first contact. Its quite urgent that I teach my people the concept of a restraining order and make it part of our budding legal process to have rapists castrated.

As Chamberlain, I feel obligated to add this to King Arturia’s journals. With my liege’s permission of course. I cannot comprehend the mind of this ‘king’ I’ve… exchanged words with, generously speaking.

Leofstan: I see why my king has no desire to speak with you.

Gilgamesh: You mean to say this pissant imitation of a ruler cowers before my glory?

Leofstan: Your continued existence disgusts her. I suggest leaving immediately as you’ll find no welcome in Camelot.

Gilgamesh: I dislike your tone. Know your place, mongrel.

Leofstan: Become a man worthy of respect and I’ll consider re-evaluating my behavior.

Gilgamesh: What.

Leofstan: I know your type. The spoiled nobleman’s child still high on inherited power. I repeat myself. Archer Servant, I suggest you leave and save all of us a headache.

Gilgamesh: You’re quite a stupid Master, running your mouth to… Wait, Camelot you say? Oh~ It’s her? Heh heh… HA…. Fufuahahahahahahahahahaha!

It must have been a full minute of standing there, awkwardly watching egotism incarnate laugh himself nearly to tears. Perhaps I should have left then, yet there was much my king refused to tell me. I needed only tolerate him long enough to hear it.

Gilgamesh: Oh, this garden of mine has some surprises yet! Convey to dear Saber that she still has a chance to answer correctly and become my bride. Maybe I’ll let your attitude slide when you deliver her answer.

Leofstan: …sighs My liege is already preparing the restraining order regarding your presence.

Gilgamesh: Pfff… Fuhahahaha! You’d make a fine jester, mongrel. Get going, now.

I depart without squandering pleasantries, and the golden armored archer allows it. I honestly thought I’d have to evade an attack or two upon leaving. It is strange to think that ancient Sumer survived having this man as king. I return to find my king amid personally contributing to calendar and fermentation research. I suppose with her fear of growing too stoic my King must find other means of… stress relief.

On another note it seems King Pendragon has found some merit to my crass and defiant treatment of ‘King’ Gilgamesh. I’ve been ordered to continue such and handle all diplomatic meetings with him until my liege orders otherwise. I question if possessing Avalon will be enough to survive such a task... Yet someone needs to persuade Gilgamesh to tone his handling of others down a peg or three. I doubt he'll listen to kindness in that regard.

Chapter Text

Entry Seven: New City, Same Pests

Camelot the Second has begun growing to a sizable population. It’s larger than several of the scattered villages and on its way to becoming a proper city. However there remains the question of competing for territory, with four other nations wait nearby. On top of that two of their leaders are openly malevolent. I require a bulwark between them and Camelot. For that matter, a place to gather more strategic resources and luxuries for my people’s wealth and enjoyment. Settlers depart from Camelot. They go shadowed by a troop of archers due to the ever-looming presence of the barbarians. Regrettably, it seems the savages have their eyes on the same piece of land. As do stranger folk. They’ve already built something where I was going to settle in fact.

I stopped questioning what species I was talking to during negotiations with the odd tavern we found. There’s everything from beastmen, to demon-kin, even a few high functioning golems here. How my Chamberlain knows these people, or keeps track of the place’s status, is beyond me. The blizzard conditions instilled around the place by a Bounded Field have fended off the barbarians and common soldiers thusfar. The dimensional refraction within the field is quite a nice trick… I could have been kept wandering in the snow drifts for days. Though I question if the tavern’s barrier would survive being struck with a Noble Phantasm. The other nations may test that later, but for now my entry was expedited due to my Master’s connection to the place.

Two things are certain. The tavern’s occupants have thrown their lot in with Britain for me to erect a town around their location, and one of the drinks I had has restored Merlin’s previous… addition to my body. Nothing else affected me through my Rank A Magic Resistance. On principle I must discipline these magical miscreants later. In hindsight it’s likely my old mentor left something else behind to make the transition back to ‘siring heirs’ easier without telling me. Curse his mischief. Bah, more magecraft regulations to write later. Sadly, the town has extended beyond the barrier the tavern can maintain. The barbarians will inevitably take advantage of this so their first task will be serving as a training ground to expand my army, with my archers left stationed there as an ongoing garrison. I’ll need to clear them out to get my workers over to the nearby forest. I smelled something delicious hiding there, and Britain shall have it!

Entry Eight: Dolhrian Diplomacy

It feels strange that the first nation to approach me diplomatically is the Empire of Dolhr. Their approach was…. Unique. One of Medeus’ Earth Dragon followers perched on the hill near the Spiral Eyes Pub Town and attempted to draw out a messenger by roaring at the top of their lungs. When one failed to appear, they began shrieking incessantly. Apparently by the time word had reached me she had been doing this for four hours straight, with no one daring to approach. It nearly advanced into six hours by the time I arrived. Note to self: Build a road between my capital and this border town, we’ve almost perfected wheels now. I’m still surprised that sheer force of lungs is Dolhr’s answer to the lack of long-range communication. I had to apply the same approach vigorously to get the dragoness’ attention, screaming at the dragoness until she noticed me. Twice more in a more articulate manner for her to realize I don’t speak Draconic. If this is a request from Medeus to meet with him peacefully… Good lord what is his idea of a declaration of war? Thankfully the brief trip past the further of the two wheat fields to meet in person was quiet.

Arturia: Are you threatening me or trying to treat with me?

Medeus: Both. However, my desire for a mutual exchange of embassies is genuine.

Arturia: It shall be accepted. Will I need to modify the provided dwelling’s design for your manakete?

Medeus: I advise you build taller, wider, doors… Think of it as building for someone nearly two heads taller with wings. I’d also recommend constructing the embassy away from livestock. Many animals grow uneasy around us.

Arturia: I’m still in the process of reviewing emissary candidates. Give me a few days and I’ll have someone bold enough to converse with your dragon forms heading for Dolhr.

Medeus: Someone who’s mind is not polluted with knightly dragon-slayer nonsense I trust?

Arturia: Of course. You’ve my word on my honor as the King of Knights… Odd as that may be at this point it time.

Medeus: A satisfactory arrangement. My emissary will give you the remaining details upon approaching your capital, but I must attend other matters.

Manners are not Medeus’ thing. He turns and walks a few paces for distance before assuming his true form to depart skyward. Does that mean the shrieking one from before is the intended emissary?

I’ve received word from Camelot. Yes, yes, she is. Noise ordinance laws must be drafted.

Entry Nine: An Alliance in Exasperation

Another messenger approaches as I’m returning from the meeting with Medeus. I send her back with confirmation that the dra- manakete heading to Camelot is safe, and purely there as a diplomat. I'm going to get many more 'what?' responses to the phrase diplomatic dragon I'm certain... On the dragon note, I've included an order to secure and count the cattle while we get her settled in. Meanwhile she has informed me that a messenger from Renais is waiting for me. Roads are one thing, but I may need the Second Magic to deal with all this diplomacy. At least the selected neutral ground is almost on the way back. Yet Queen Eirika has been quite guarded of me lately…

I’m left questioning if I’ve legitimately smiled since being summoned here and can only answer in confusion for a moment.

Arturia: Bwuh? Might I ask what brought on this change of heart?

Eirika: Meeting our continent’s other leaders. Please accept, you’re the only one who isn’t a psychopath.

Arturia: That makes a great deal of sense… You, I, and perhaps Berkut on a good day are the only sane leaders discovered thusfar.

Eirika: He eats people!

Arturia: Yet he remains a paragon of stability with what I’ve seen of the undead.

Eirika: Unde- What is wrong with this world!?

Arturia: The list grows by the day!

Eirika: By Latona I need to hasten Renais’ study of herbology and wine production…

Arturia: I accept your proposed alliance in respect our mutual exasperation.

For several silent moments Eirika simply stares at me, positively beaming with happiness. I fear I’m about to be ‘glomped’ as they call it until she speaks again.

Eirika: Thank you, Arturia. May both our peoples prosper from this.

The conversation drags on a while longer to establish the logistics of a route for written mail between Renais and Britain. It should be a short journey by horse, but one never knows with the barbarian’s potential ambushes. In fact, my scouts spied a group of them making off with a group of captured Renaisian workers. I have another encampment to destroy, with great hostility... Yet before I can plan for such something else from Lady Eirika’s words draws my attention.

Eirika: Perhaps now that we’re officially allies, you’d feel inclined to share some information about how to preserver one’s Master as a Servant?

Arturia: You shouldn’t have to. The contracts don’t draw themselves to Magi who can’t withstand them, unless said Magus forced it with a catalyst.

Eirika: Is that so? I don’t know about magical potential… I’ve yet to adapt fully to these new senses. My Command Seals have been passed down through a family of Renais’ horsemen since my summoning. The same can be said for my brother Ephraim.

Arturia: I do know of some alternate methods for increasing one’s mana. There’s power in blood for example, or if your nation has the magic for it tapping into a natural ley line or other place of power.

Eirika: Power in blood? You mean to say that’s why Berkut has been…

Arturia: There’s greater power in harvesting mortal life force. I could not detect a proper Master within Rigel, so I imagine Berkut compensates through the vile method of consuming mortal beings to absorb their life force and souls.

Eirika: Are there any other methods?

Arturia: Hm, how to put it. Seed from either gender, or the act of extracting it, works about the same as blood.

Eirika: Wha--- You don’t mean…?

Arturia: Yes, yes, I do. Please do not inquire how I know.

We both spend a few uncomfortable moments of silence before I recall another mildly alarming thing Lady Eirika said and call attention to it.

Arturia: Wait…. You mentioned a brother, you mean to say Renais has two Servants?

Eirika: Yes. If I’ve the ‘classes’ right, I was summoned as Rider, and my brother Ephraim as Lancer.

Arturia: I’ve been summoned as a Saber class Servant. I’ll prepare some notes on the classes, Noble Phantasms, mana methods and the like for you and your Master to peruse at your leisure.

Eirika: We’ve already more or less figured out Noble Phantasms. Ephraim… accidentally cleared some land for a new quarry in the process of realizing just how explosive the ‘crystallization of legends’ can be. To think my brother can start forest fires now with a simple spoken phrase and swing of his spear …

Arturia: Indeed, also watch the mana consumption on using them. It’s the largest strain you can place on your Master. Now then, I have some barbarians that I must arrange for disposing of and a ley line to tap into. I’ll send those notes as our first bit of mail.

Eirika: Ah yes. I often forget how these conversations drag on. Farewell on your journey back Arturia.

Arturia: Best of luck to you as well Eirika.

This bit about Ephraim leaves me wondering if this really is a nation-scale Holy Grail War. If it were, such a double summoning wouldn’t be possible. Perhaps it was a chain summon. Something either in reaction to another kingdom, or perhaps their bond as siblings, acting as a trigger for an additional ritual.

Chapter Text

Entry Ten: Into The Sea

After many trials and a few almost comical errors, we have at long last discovered sailing. The triremes Camelot has managed to build are passable. However, we can’t make any boat capable of traversing the deep sea yet. Nor would such long journeys be navigable at present. Prowling the coast will do for now. We’ll be able to observe Camelot’s native whales up close, stat fishing en-masse, and most importantly greatly expand our scouting range. It may take some time to instill the difference between ‘whale’ and ‘water dragon’ or ‘leviathan’ into my people… Chamberlain Ashworth has begun drafting some illustrations to that effect. Or the closest we can manage with the current tools, chisel and stone is slow work. I digress. Our scouting has already yielded fruit. Not a tiny village or great nation, but a middling city state called Kiris.

They people of Kiris are an odd bunch. They are cautious as well, circling and inspecting my trireme scouting party multiple times before allowing us entry into the port-city to speak with their leaders. I question their choice in settling in a barely hospitable island whose land is nearly dominated by a mountain range. We shared an initial exchange of gifts from which Britain has made a modest profit. They appear to be a merchant state. Yet their ruling council of elders are quarrelsome and even more paranoid than my Chamberlain. They make his insistence on a plan B and C to everything look normal. Maintaining positive relations with Kiris will prove difficult, as the old men see daggers in every shadow. Perhaps it may be worth the trouble once I’ve some edge in diplomacy… If nothing else their luxurious goods and seemingly unique craft of porcelain could benefit Britain’s wealth if they become my vassals. Perhaps it’s time to investigate trade routes.

Entry Eleven: War of Truffles

Truffles? Truffles. Truffles! I’ve had my workers investigate the forest across the river from the Spiral Eyes Pub. By chance their attempts to capture some wild pigs revealed the swine had nested there to search for truffles. The notion of feasting on fungus as a delicacy is a strange one, but the Grail’s leftover knowledge of the modern era has informed me of truffles as a world-renowned luxury. Will they be black or white? Well… the land will be red for a while as the barbarians also covet this forest. Bringing potential slaves into the region already drawing them with abundant meat and wheat has provoked greater activity from the camp. The formation of raiding parties, and the expected aggression from them. These barbarians remain every bit as crude and primitive as I recall. Yet this group's military, and I use that term lightly, movements seem more refined than previous bands. Perhaps their ilk have begun their own research?

The archer unit I left as guardians has taken up position in the forest to both defend my workers and begin harassing the bandit’s camp from afar. They make brief approaches to fire a volley or two then vanish into the woods again. Soon the warriors will be ready to deploy and finish this. The raiding parties that broke off from the camp survived the initial barrage… but on both attempts did not last long after venturing into the pub’s firing range. It’s become a common practice in both cities to have spare ranged weaponry and guards lining the outer walls at all times for situations like this. I’m surprised to be saying this after the discovery of bacon, but the pigs must not come to harm. During the skirmish my workers have been busy constructing a camp and rounding up pigs to begin domesticating them. A few more days to make a decisive strike on the barbarians… Then the truffle hogs may be safely trained.

These skirmishes will be much easier soon after, as my people have nearly perfected early metal working. Britain’s armies shall advance into the bronze age. Meanwhile this research will also provide the means to identify and mine other metals. We’ll have a vital stepping stone toward utilizing iron. Down the line I will need to make time to train a swordsmanship instructor or two myself.

Entry Twelve: Embassies for Renais and Rigel

The minor War of Truffles is proceeding well, and another barbarian camp has been nearly purged. I can shift some of my focus on the group that has taken slaves from Renais… vexingly there are still several raiding parties active in the region that my forces must eliminate before they can reach their main base containing the captives. My people have come to embrace war as part of Britain’s culture so on the bright side it's become quite a learning experience for them. 

The route for letters has been kept clear. Eirika occasionally sends a non-political letter simply for the sake of conversation… Recently however there has been a great deal of movement in the forests to the northwest. I believe Berkut is almost finished with his work in securing a messaging route. For now, however, Eirika’s latest letter proposes meeting in person for political business. My vocal encounter with the Dolhrian emissary appears to have raised awareness for the need of embassies. Presumably this is what Eirika wishes to discuss.

Arturia: Accepted!

Eirika: Wonderful! I’ll begin the arrangements immediately.

Arturia: Your emissary won’t have any trouble with a drag- er, manakete near their dwelling, right?

Eirika: ...Did she stop screaming?

Arturia: Yes.

Eirika: …and she doesn’t eat people?

Arturia: She’s menaced some wild sheep, and occasionally intimidates Camelot’s cattle… but that’s it.

Eirika: Good, good. Then this Dolhrian emissary is more like Myrrh than Medeus. I was rather worried he’d deploy a considerably nastier manakete for this station.

Arturia: We can implement this smoothly then. The other embassy buildings are already under construction and should be fully livable within the week. I look forward to reci----

It was at that point that both of us heard galloping hoofbeats approaching. As there had been barbarians invading Renais shortly beforehand, both Eirika and I are immediately on guard. The sentiment is shared throughout the retainers we’ve brought. It helps that one of the horsemen is flying a Rigelian banner… but the fact that he’s an animated skeleton with his skull on fire quickly un-helps. Sighting Berkut at the head of the formation mostly assuaged my worry that I may need to prepare for battle. Eirika already had her rapier drawn, and I earnestly believe Berkut separating from his guards to meet us alone is the only reason Eirika didn’t initiate hostilities. If nothing else his initial greeting and statement of intent is enough to pull Eirika out of her instinctive hostility toward the undead.

Even if he can’t seem to help being snide about it, our local Wraith-Emperor is taking the chance to approach both Britain and Renais diplomatically.

Eirika: Renais will only receive living ambassadors. I’ve had quite enough of the undead from my homeland thank you very much.

Berkut: I’m only offering living envoys. The Terrors are a tad ill-fitting for such tasks.

Arturia: Acceptable. Due to previous emissaries I must insist you’ll send an envoy who’ll treat manaketes fairly.

Berkut: My empire’s state religion worships a Divine Dragon, that won’t be an issue.

Eirika: By the way… are these ‘Terrors’ vulnerable to sacred relics or fire?

Berkut: Er… Mostly? What brings this on?

Eirika: My world was just starting to recover from a demonically induced zombie apocalypse before I was brought here. I still have certain… preparations rather ingrained from that experience.

Arturia: That explains a lot.

Berkut: Kindly keep that within your own borders Lady Eirika.

Eirika: Holy water stays on my person at all times Lord Berkut.

Arturia: Can we not plot one another’s demise at a diplomatic meeting? Please?

Berkut: I’m mildly offended you assume I’m plotting anything with this offer.

Eirika: Oh… My apologies for overstepping. I did not mean I’d target our present company. To be frank… I don’t think Rigel will be the only ones that can raise the dead. I’m not having entire provinces fall under a tide of hungry corpses again.

Berkut: … Fair enough. Your kingdom, your laws.

Arturia: sighs Crisis averted.

Berkut: Besides, it’s not like Renais is burning anyone at the stake...

Eirika: Only convicted Necromancers, that is, those using the same magics that started the zombie problem.

Arturia: Okaaaay then…

Berkut: Duma-dammit I need to review the emissaries again.

It seems even Eirika has her harsh side. I was wrong to worry about her being too naïve for war… If nothing else the embassies have been established without further incident. I think. I don’t have enough information on Renais to know if the Rigelian emissary became firewood. How can I phrase “Did you cremate an unsatisfactory diplomat or not?” politely in a letter? The British embassies are fine. I suspect our Rigelian diplomat may be conducting unhinged occult rituals in her basement. While the Renaisian diplomat appears to spend some of his time each stay stalking either of our other embassies in his spare time. I think he thinks they’re both scheming something villainous. At this rate I’ll have to consider assigning someone to watching the embassies for signs of conflict among the diplomats.