Anomaly Ch. 49

The courier that arrived to deliver a message to Shirou was nervous, anyone with eyes could see that. They had barely said anything since entering the district, as they had been escorted by a few Yaga beside them. No doubt, the courier felt intimidated as they had to cross the rebellion’s stronghold just to meet with him.

Shirou could only spare them a moment of sympathy, needing to read the missive that had been sent by the royal family, if the seal was anything to go by.

In it, it was a formal request to join the sender in the Senate once more, in front of the Emperor as well, to discuss Shirou’s apparent acquisition of their slaves. The letter was written extremely well, to the point where the Enforcer thought that even Rin would be impressed by the sheer eloquence.

“These words reek of lies.” Anatoly held the missive as if it would burn him. The other members of the ‘round table’ wore similarly disgusted looks on their faces.

Of course, impressing Rin would also necessitate the letter being written by the actual signee instead of a ghost writer.

And the words on the piece of parchment in his hand was most definitely not written by Zorzal El Caesar.

“What the hell even is this? ‘I hope that our discussion will be fruitful and prosperous.’? Like Zorazal knows anything about either!” Helena the pixie growled out in a manner that should not have come out of a body that small.

“Indeed, I have not known that man capable of any sort of thoughtfulness such as this.” The orc this time, Ghunzul, spoke up with a heavy frown, “It’s likely at the behest of one of the other royals, likely the Princess if I had to take a guess.”

The orc towered over the people at the table, but unlike the stereotypical brutes that they were made out to be, Ghunzul looked every bit a commander. A commander that rode alongside his men, if the darker shade of his green skin was anything to come by, a shade that would only be the product of many days under the sun.

“Still, this show of blatant disregard for his own father’s direct orders…This is textbook treason, innit?” Baldan the dwarf, combing through his beard with his eyes closed.

This one had the look of an older man, due to the white hairs that were starting to grow on his thick facial hair. Of course, Shirou had learned from the tracing of the one-handed hammer at Baldan’s side that the dwarf was actually just shy of 90, a far cry from even Tuka’s age.

“Unfortunately, his status as heir would likely supersede such labels.” The ogre, Bloodaxe, spoke up quietly.

Contrary to his name, the ogre was a quiet person. In fact, he didn’t even wield a true weapon, instead being a priest of Deldort, the god of covenants. Primarily, he was responsible for the various worship sessions around the camp, and the accompanying grievances one set of worshipers had against another, as his god was considered neutral.

“Regardless of his punishment or not, we’re going to have to meet him anyway if we want to get those kids out.” Kaelun Ma Dorrin, the dark elf of the Dorrin tribe - she had way too much emphasis on that - finished with a grimace.

Much like Tuka, her ears were pointed in stereotypical fashion, the main difference being the darker complexion that she sported. At first, Shirou had thought that it was the color of their skin that got their name, but asking around proved him wrong. Similar to how he was wrong about the Red Dragon, the reason why dark elves were called such was their propensity to go and use elemental magic instead of spirit magic. This created a divide where the elves like Tuka were considered ‘high’ elves, holy in other terms,  and others as ‘dark’ - ‘fallen to the dark side’ as it were.

The skin color was just another product of using this elemental magic too often, as was the case with Shirou’s own complexion and his magecraft, before the whole disguise bit that is.

“And by ‘we’, she really just means you.” Komakado smirked at Shirou, though one without any humor in it. It was practically seething with rage, the old man rightfully angry at the sheer arrogance that Zorzal was displaying. The idea that they’d unilaterally accept without much thought, as the time that was marked on the missive was in just two hours from now.

“None of you are joining?” Shirou had to frown at the assembled group as none of them looked him in the eyes. Most of them sported quite sheepish looks, almost apologetic. It seemed only Anatoly kept his head up high, before the Yaga coughed in apparent embarrassment.

“Most of us here have had bad experiences with the Empire. Telling any of them to go meet the Emperor himself might just make a diplomatic incident.” Another cough, “A messy one, if you understand.”

That’s right. That was the true unifying force between all of these different people. Demi-humans of different species, different gods to worship. Cultural taboos being displayed in the open by those that didn’t have such.

Back on Earth, it was a recipe for social inequality.

Here, none of that mattered. Not to the rebels. All they wanted was one thing: freedom. Be gone from the Empire’s, well, everything, and they’d be happy.

Getting revenge was not on the list of priorities, but give the head of the entire Empire? With his supposedly rotten son in the same room? Priorities would take a backburner to the sheer amount of hate and anger that they’d feel.

As such, it really was up to only Shirou once more.

“Komakado.” But there was no more time for this. Not when lives were on the line, “I’m giving you provisional command until I get back. Get everyone moving to Italica as soon as you can. Tuka, Lelei, I’m leaving you two to join them and handle anything in my stead. Are you both okay with that?”

The two girls looked at each other, before nodding in response. The elf however, sported a worried look, “I feel like we should still join you, but knowing you…”

“You’d leave.”  Bluntly finished the blue-haired mage.

Yes, he’d probably leave without them knowing. A bit of shame welled up in Shirou as he realized he had been seen through. This was likely to be a heated discussion at the very least, and Shirou didn’t want either of them hurt because of his propensity for old habits.

“...Thank you, both of you.” Giving a small bow, the Enforcer finally turned to meet the courier waiting just outside.

The murmurs of Komakado's voice, sharp and commanding, followed Shirou as he strode towards the entrance. "...right then! Baldan, get the smithies packing essentials only. Helena, scout the quickest route south that avoids imperial patrols. Bloodaxe, ensure the non-combatants are ready to move at the first horn. We're not waiting for trouble to find us here."

They’ll be alright. They had to be.

…

For the third time, Shirou stared as the Senate chamber doors opened in front of him. However, this time, it was much different. Even the guards outside looked notably tense, as a singular voice rang out even before the doors opened.

The heavy bronze doors hadn't even finished groaning open when the voice, thick with petulant outrage, slammed into Shirou like a physical force.

"...utterly intolerable, Father! This...this vagabond! This insolent cur parades into the heart of our Empire, steals Imperial property, flouts your authority, and now dares to make demands?!"

Crown Prince Zorzal El Caesar stood before the Imperial dais, not seated beside his father. He was practically vibrating, gesturing wildly towards the massive doors Shirou had just entered, his back momentarily turned. His face, visible in profile, was flushed a deep, ugly purple.

"He walks in here, Father! He walks in here and you allow it! You allow him to demand the taking of my property!" Zorzal's voice cracked with incredulous fury, his finger stabbing towards Shirou. The Enforcer stared back with a stoic gaze. He would not bend, Shirou had seen far more intimidating things in his life.

Zorzal's face, already flushed, deepened to a dangerous purple as he whirled fully towards the Emperor, his posture radiating wounded entitlement and boiling rage. Senators held their breath. Guards remained statuesque, but their eyes flickered nervously between the Prince and the impassive Emperor.

The Emperor sat on his throne, a monument of weary, simmering fury. His knuckles were white where they gripped the armrests. He didn't look at his ranting son; his ancient, heavy gaze was fixed on Shirou as he entered. That gaze held a terrifying mixture of imperial wrath and profound, bone-deep disappointment. The disappointment, Shirou sensed, was directed entirely at Zorzal.

Zorzal, however, either didn’t see it, or more likely, refused to.

“My soldiers bleed to hold the frontier! My banners fly in every quarter of the Empire! And you would give him-” He jabbed at Shirou again, his voice rising to an unseemly screech, “My spoils, to him! Some Celtic barbarian dog!"

At that, Shirou couldn't help the twitch of his lips. Yes, Zorzal was as bad as the rumors made him out to be, if not even worse. To top it all off, he was also an absolute moron. The Enforcer had thought that maybe the man really was some sort of evil mastermind, but really, this is just some narcissist thinking he was actually better than he was.

At least he made a joke that was funny, unintentional or not.

Murmurs flickered through the Senate, serpentine and sharp. Discomfort. Disbelief. A few looked down at their scrolls, some feigned interest in non-existent stains upon the marble tiles, but all ears were fixed forward.

“I will not stand by while some mongrel mercenary in peasant’s clothes prances into my Empire and lays claim to Imperial property! Father, you cannot be serious!”

Perhaps he should have waited. Indeed, interrupting would risk him breaking some unspoken law in that a royal shouldn't be stopped. However, like he knew earlier, why Shirou had agreed to join here as fast as he did, was that lives were on the line. He was under no false impression that just because Zorzal was here that the slaves he had wouldn't be suffering.

Shirou stepped forward, slow and sure, boots sounding dull against marble. His presence carried no pomp, only purpose.

“I haven’t taken anything from you.” He said calmly, the timbre of his voice steady but sharp, “The Emperor gave the order.”

Zorzal’s laughter came fast, brittle, and mad, “Oh, listen to him! Speaks as if he’s one of us! Like some noble knight, riding to rescue the helpless!” His face twisted.

“You’re nothing but a sellsword pretending to be a hero!”

…

A/N: Bit shorter, cause damn, that was just a good line to end it on, I felt.