Anomaly Ch. 51

The chamberlain didn’t posture or preach; he slid three sealed rolls across a scarred desk and spoke like a man paying a bill, “Go before dawn. Don’t draw eyes.” The halls still pulsed with the Emperor’s order, with Zorzal’s swallowed outrage, and with the heavy silence that follows both. Decrees move like stone; gossip moves like water. The city hadn’t heard yet, and that gap - the space between a command and the streets that must live with it - was exactly where people get trampled if you pause.

Which just meant that he and the others needed to move before the rest of the capital heard about...everything really.

Shirou wasn’t stupid. He knew that, even if the prince had proven himself to be incapable, there would always be some legitimists that believed that the prince was in the right. And those people would just be as stupid, overconfident, or had some profit motive for siding with Zorzal. Those same people would be just as idiotic to go against the Emperor if it meant pleasing Zorzal.

The Emperor knew this, just as anyone else in the senate did. Which is why the entire fiasco was being sped along, even though the Emperor had said nothing about it publicly. Nobody wanted a drawn out spectacle.

They met in the service yard behind the records hall, brick damp with night and old oil. The first pair of Warrior Bunnies came forward with their wrists bound and their eyes steady - the kind of steady you learn when you’ve had your choices sorted for you. The iron was bright where it had rubbed fur thin. Zorzal had used them as slaves.

Property.

A swell of disgust at the man boiled in Shirou's gut. Both foreign and not.

He had been fortunate before now to see the other slaves had freed themselves, and were actively trying to get out of the city. That is to say, the feelings that Spartacus' sword had not affected him too much as he was already going with the flow, of helping those oppressed to not be.

Seeing the state of the Warrior Bunnies?

He had to reign the madness in lest he go on a rampage to go and kill Zorzal.

A woman stepped from the line with a chain collar that had seen too many hands. She carried herself with a stillness that didn’t come from fear. It came from having been someone before men decided to rename her. When she looked at Shirou, she gauged him in a way that the magus had seen many times before. Judging him on whether or not he was worth anything.

“You’re not the prince.” She said. No complaint. Just air given shape.

“I’m the one you have.” He answered. “Chulainn.”

His jaw tightened as he took the fearful glances that the younger ones threw at him. He didn’t know their story, but he knew a dozen like it. Power loved trophies. Royalty loved pretending they were doing a mercy when it was obvious they weren't.

And, truthfully, he could have Traced just about anything on them and seen everything that they had went through. He just didn't want to.

There was a marked difference between knowing the story of a hero of old that was actively trying to kill him, versus that of a still living person who'd obviously been through quite a bit. He wasn't sure he'd ever want to invade their privacy like that.

Shirou kept his voice low as the ones that escorted the Warrior Bunnies left after confirming that he had 'received' them, “First thing’s first.”

The blade was in his hand. The younger Warrior Bunnies gasped, softly enough that he only heard them in the silence of the area around them. The rest drew their gaze away from the scene, tensing as they waited. The one in front of him though? Her eyes briefly lit up in anger, fury the likes he had only seen barely a handful of individuals before.

Then, it was gone. Replaced by a look of depression. A scene he had seen more often in the mirror than he wanted to. A face of such utter failure and resignation. His hands gripped the hilt harder.

He drew and cut. Twice. Twin shackles were broken instantly. For a moment, the woman could only watch in confusion, looking around and seemingly not understanding what he just did.

“Now, hold still.” The blade was raised once more, this time pointing at the woman’s neck. She tensed once more, but where before she had been resigned to her fate, she now stared back at him with a measuring eye. In another slash, the chain collar was cut off. That said, Shirou had to grimace as the remnants of what she had been subjected to was still clearly visible on her skin.

Zorzal and his men hadn’t bothered to hide their work. Why hide what you think no one can challenge?

He made himself breathe. Slow in, slow out. Spartacus’s blade hummed in his bones the way a wasp hums in a bottle - angry, stupidly brave, eager to sting anything it could reach. Not yet. Not him. Not here.

“Names.” He said.

The woman tipped her chin, and the others waited for her to speak first without being told. “Tyuule.” She said, the name landing heavy and clean. He didn’t know the history that rode on it, but he recognized the way it made shoulders ease and eyes focus. A center of gravity.

For a heartbeat he saw the crown she wasn’t wearing, and then it was gone, tucked behind a look that said she’d learned to swallow pride before it got someone else hurt.

“Chulainn.” He spoke his ‘name’ once more.

He cut the last ring from Tyuule’s chain, palming the severed link so it wouldn’t skitter on stone.There was no need for a speech. Just space, and breath, and feet pointed toward a gate that would open before gossip did.

They had the chamberlain’s rolls, they had the Emperor’s seal, and they had time measured in the number of lamplighters still dozing on their stools. That would have to be enough.

“Names.” He said again, softer this time.

They gave them, halting at first, then with a rhythm that sounded like remembering. He didn’t write anything down. He let the names sit in his head and weight his steps: Yao. Mirea. Ollo. The girl with the torn ear. The two sisters who couldn’t stop holding hands even after the shackles were gone. Tyuule watched him watch the others, likely measuring whether this 'Celt' would treat names like coin or like promises.

He shrugged out a rough cloak and set it over Tyuule’s shoulders.

“Walk with me.” He told her, “Front.” If she heard the test in that, she didn’t show it. She moved to his side as if she’d never learned to trail behind anyone.

In one more sweep of the group, Shirou eyed them all and had to frown. Counting all of the women here, he could not spot a single sign that one of them wasn't a Warrior Bunny. Had he made a mistake? Surely, this wasn't all the slaves that had been taken by Zorzal - the man surely wouldn't stop at just one species.

"Is this all of you?"

Multiple furrowed eyebrows stared back at him. Tyuule, becoming more and more the most outspoken of them all, replied, "These are all the Warrior Bunnies that were under Prince Zorzal, yes."

"That..." There was no lie in Tyuule's words, only certainty. But surely-

No.

Shirou breathed in a gasp of sudden realization. When he was speaking with the Emperor, the man had said that Zorzal's slaves taken during the Subjugation of the Warrior Bunnies would be transferred over to him. Not once had he said that anything else would be taken.

In the confusion that had been Zorzal's actions, he had completely missed that caveat. So focused had he been on the fact that he was freeing more slaves that he had missed the people that hadn't been mentioned. The ones forgotten.

In the end, Shirou realized that, once again, he had focused too much on saving the many.

...

Shirou set the pace toward the freight lane that ran behind the granaries, while Tyuule matched his stride. The others took their cue from her and fell into a loose column that could pass for hired help if no one looked long.

He made himself keep his hands empty. Spartacus’s rage throbbed like a pulse where his fingers ached to close around steel. His failure to save that girl that Komakado had trusted him with weighed heavily on his own conscience. But that could wait. He couldn't let this failure stop him from getting those he'd already gotten out from under Zorzal to safety.

“Do we run if someone asks questions?” One of the younger women whispered. Shirou wasn't sure which one of them did so, but they were immediately shushed by one of the older ones. Nevertheless, Shirou answered calmly.

“No. You’re not fleeing. You’re being moved.”

A truth petty enough to pass inspection.

The gate sergeant squinted as Shirou presented the decrees. Shirou held his breath for the beat where men decide whether rules matter. A stamp. A grunt. A raised bar. They were out of the noble quarter.

“You speak like a man used to walking through doors that should be closed.” Tyuule said without looking at him.

“I’ve broken enough hinges to learn the cheaper way.”

“And the cost?” Her tone was neutral; the question wasn’t.

“Mine, if I can help it.” The words came easier than they felt. He wasn’t the boy who moved because a title told him to. He moved because people shouldn’t have to live like this. Simple, human, stubborn. He reminded himself of that and kept going.

They made their way further into the merchant's district, and soon enough, they found their first patrol. A trio of Yaga brandished their weapons threateningly, prompting the Warrior Bunnies behind him tense. And, from what their name implied, he doubted it was out of fear.

Thankfully, it seemed that the Yaga soon recognized him, and quickly pointed their weapons away from them.

"You are Chulainn, yes?" Shirou nodded at the question, "Good. Anatoly told us to expect you. He's further in, with Ghunzul."

They followed the Yaga through a slit of an alley where they saw a hive of activity from the soon-to-be-free rebels. Torches, lamps, and even magic were being used all around as everyone franctically packed, unpacked, and otherwise moved things about. There was a mix of excitement and trepidation in the air that one couldn't ignore.

Shirou understood. They were just at the finish line of finally being free, but if something were to go wrong, if someone were to interfere - say a certain royal that had just been burnt by his own father - then everything could come crashing down.

The entourage behind him kept an eye on just about everything that so much as twitched, apparently not understanding what they were doing. With one exception, it seemed, as Tyuule's head suddenly snapped to him, eyebrows raised. Still, she kept to his left shoulder without being asked; the others bunched and stretched in a nervous tide behind her.

Anatoly and Ghunzul waited beneath a warped lintel two lanes deeper, lamplight catching on the orc’s tusk ring and the Yaga’s eyes in the same dull flicker. Anatoly took one look at Tyuule’s bare neck and the fresh line where iron had kissed skin, and his jaw ticked once.

“You brought all of them.” Ghunzul rumbled, approval wrapped in gravel.

"Is everyone prepared?"

"Your companions certainly made sure that we were." The orc gave an amused huff, "That little mage of yours certainly made things easier on us."

"Lelei?" He felt a frown form as he shook his head, "Nevermind. I need another cart or two for Tyuule and the others here. Once that's done, we can move out immediately."

"There should be a couple empty ones still. We...overestimated the number that we needed." Neither Shirou nor Ghunzul failed to understand what that meant. They gave each other a grim nod, before the magus led the Warrior Bunnies over to where the orc had indicated.

Alongside the empty carts, they found Komakado, Caroline, and several other orcs inspecting a nearby wagon, one filled with clothes and similar items. Seeing him, the older man raised a hand in acknowledgement, before going back to talking with the orcs.

"...ove them over to the side, should be able to fit them." Shirou only caught the tail end of what he was saying - or rather, what Caroline was translating - as he approached, though clearly the topic was fairly serious since the orcs were nodding in agreement, "Chulainn, perfect timing." Komakado said, palm flat on the wagon’s sideboard, “We’re staging the junk. I figured the kids could hide in here while Helena goes with them.”

Shirou frowned, "You think it'll fool anyone?"

Komakado’s eyes ticked once, "I doubt any bandits would care about the clothes that former slaves wore."

“It will.” Helena answered, alighting on the rail. Her wings made a dry-paper sound that disappeared as she breathed out a weave of light, “I can make sure that nobody looks twice at the cart with my magic."

With a moment of thought, Shirou nodded in acceptance, “Tyuule-”

“I understand.” The woman, who he was beginning to suspect was some former nobility of the Warrior Bunnies, nodded in understanding. Though, it was contrasted by the look of suspicion that she threw back at him, veiled as it was. She was good at hiding it, but the Enforcer knew to look for signs of any hostility, just in case.

That meant that she didn’t trust him. That was fine. He didn’t need her trust when all he wanted was for them to be free.

As they started to form lines and prepare the carts, Shirou and Komakado locked eyes. Wordlessly, the older man gave a forlorn glance at the gathered Warrior Bunnies, and the magus knew that he had noticed the absence of a certain someone.

The look of sympathy and regret. A single glance that couldn't be anything other than 'you tried your best'.

Shirou Emiya hated it.

…

A/N: I'll be pushing back Living Life to next week, as I'm still not back to 100%. It will be released alongside Chronal Disassociation. Apologies for the wait.