All-Purpose Nasuverse Fanfiction Thread

Chaldea. It was a perfectly ordinary world-saving organization, of the sort you could find anywhere.

“You don't frighten us, English pig dogs. Go and boil your bottoms, you sons of a silly person. I blow my nose at you, so-called "Artoria King," you and all your silly English kenigets!” Gille de Rais declared from the top of the staircase, behind an impromptu barricade of mattresses and sofas. Technically, it was the emergency fire escape, but since there really wasn't any place to escape to, what with the outside world having sort of ceasing to exist, they long since taken to using it as a convenient staircase since the elevators always took too damned long.

Down below, huddled behind her repurposed folding-table-turned-shield, Mashu Kyrielite sighed. “Look, is there someone else up there I can talk to? Preferably someone without Mental Pollution?”

“No! Now go away or I shall taunt you a second time!” the maddened sorcerer cried. “I don't want to talk to you no more, you empty-headed animal food trough wiper! I fart in your general direction! Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries!”

“Hey, I gave him that aftershave!” Mashu cried, offended. “He said elderberry was his favorite scent!” She took a deep breath, tried to calm down. “Look, just tell the queen we wish to speak to her! In the name of peace!”

“Never!” a new voice cried. Mashu facepalmed as D'eon stuck their head around the doorframe behind Gilles. “You think you can trick us like that? You English dogs shall never have the queen! Vive La France!”

“I wave my private parts at your aunties, you cheesy lot of second hand electric donkey bottom biters!” Gilles added in support.

A tentacled abomination was thrown down the stairs at her. Fortunately, it was on the small side, so with an 'eep!' Mashu swatted it down the stairwell with her table, sending it falling down to land at a lower landing, only to slip and fall again. Resignedly, she began backing away back down towards the door behind her. While having a normal lifespan now instead of dying some time a few weeks ago was very nice, she had to admit being able to acrobatically make monsters go 'splash' had grown on her. This folding table just wasn't the same.

Stepping backwards through the open door, she breathed a sigh of relief as someone closed it once she was all the way through.

“I told you,” Drake said, arms crossed beneath her huge... tracts of land as she nodded knowingly. “There's no reasoning with the damned frogs. The only thing worse are Spaniards.”

Mashu sighed. “W-we had to try,” she said.

Really, how had things gone so wrong?

---

“– fuck Marie Antoinette!” Mordred said dismissively.

Unfortunately, they had said it dismissively within hearing range of messieurs Sanson, Mozart and (with the usual question of applicability) D'eon.

“What was that, knight?” the fellow non-cishet Saber demanded in tones that said they'd definitely heard it right the first time, they just wanted an excuse to rumble.

“None of your business!” Mordred snapped, and their glare might have been a lot more effective if their helmet hadn't been on at the time.

“If you are talking about our queen, then it most certainly is our business,” Sanson said, though he had not yet drawn his sword.

“Now, now, please, there's no need for violence,” Saber Artoria Lilly, whom Mordred had been speaking to, said, trying to ease the situation. “Please, it's not what it sounded like. Mordred was merely being emphatic and chose an unfortunate word to do so. Surely there's not need for this to– ”

“Ooh, fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!” someone chanted.

There was a pause and they turned to see Kuro-san standing nearby, chanting and one fist in the air. The little Archer had a wide, shit-eating grin on her face, and looked very eager. “Oh, don't stop on my account,” she said cheerfully. “Carry on!”

There was a tense moment, and then the Frenchmen (with the usual question of applicability) all relaxed. There was nothing like seeing a child eager to see pointless violence to remind an adult how childish they were being.

“The Princess of Knights is correct,” Mozart said. “Mordred's language, while often foul, is seldom with malice. Though they must curb their tongue, settling the issue with violence solves nothing.”

Saber Lilly nodded, smiling in relief that disaster seemed to have been averted.

“Plus you frogs are so weak I'd have kicked your asses like a bunch of one-star Casters,” Mordred said.

Saber Lilly facepalmed.

There was a cry of fury, and Sanson briefly found himself without his sword as the one-star Caster tried to brain Mordred with it. There was very little skill but much enthusiasm.

It all went downhill from there as Saber Lilly sighed and came to her fellow Knight's (not son, surely! She was a pure an innocent maiden!) defense as the first battle of the Anglo-French War Of Chaldea was fought.

One of the many, now seldom used conference rooms in Challdea.

The table was round. It was also kinda crowded, since it wasn't really all that big, and was usually used for Nursery Rhyme’s kinda-lonely tea parties when Jack wasn't hungry enough to show up. It was also being rented, meaning Nursery Rhyme was making a tidy profit of ten gold Nero Medals, and would be some time before she realized they had long since expired and the shop that took them was closed. Still, it was a round table, and that what sort of mattered.

“I call this meeting of the Artorias of the Round Table to order,” said Swimsuit Archer Artoria, whose turn it was to act as a sort of executive officer for the week, though they were most definitely not acting like a anarchosyndicalist commune, damn it! “Stand and be identified!”

“Saber Artoria, present!”

“Saber Alter Artoria, present.”

“Santa Rider Alter Artoria, with presents!”

“Lancer Artoria, present.”

“Lancer Alter Artoria, present.”

“Um, Saber Artoria Lily, present?”

“Swimsuit Maid Rider Alter Artoria, present!”

“Mysterious Heroine X Alter–” yawn “– present.”

“…”

At the paused flow of words, everyone (with the usual exception of Saber Lily) turned to glare at the determinedly silent figure pouting childishly.

“Really? Must you insist on this farce at every meeting?” Saber Alter said coldly.

“And take off that stupid hat while you're at the table, you're going to teach Saber Lily bad habits,” Saber added.

“I don't even know why I'm here,” Mysterious Heroine X said flicking up her nose in a textbook-perfect 'TSUN!. “I am most definitely not any sort of Artoria whatsoever, but an Anti-Saber Decisive Weapon!”

“She said 'Artoria', will that do?” MHX Alter said.

“I will allow it,” Swimsuit Archer Artoria said. “Let the records show that all Artorias of he Round Table have are present.”

“Hey! Listen to people when they're talking!” MHX protested. “Didn't I just say I most definitely am not Artoria whatsoever?”

“Ignoring you now,” Swimsuit Archer Artoria said. “Also present is Saber Arthur, acknowledged as an honorary Artoria, various knights, and a surprisingly tough to kill Caster.”

“Why did they have to change the name?” Tristan said.

Saber Lancelot shrugged. “It couldn't be helped. There are more Artorias than everyone else now. And the round table's a rental anyway, so we shouldn't get too attached to it.”

“My kings, are you sure you wouldn't rather sit at this conference table?” Gawain asked, sitting awkwardly in one of the comfortable chairs surrounding the standard large conference table to room came with. “It's much more convenient.”

“We did our best work around a round table, Gawain,” Lancer Artoria said. “We see no reason to change that.”

“You're fooling yourself!” Mysterious Heroine X cried. “We're living in a dictatorship! A self-perpetuating autocracy in which the Saber class– ”

“Oh, there you go bringing class into it again,” Merlin said.

“Well, that's what it's all about!” MHX insisted.

“Should I really be here?” Mashu asked, feeling out of place. “Um, I'm not really a Servant anymore, so– ”

“Of course,” Saber Lily said with a bright, sunny smile that had Berserker Lancelot slam down his visor to keep from being blinded as everyone else tried not to look directly at her. “You have fought by our side as a knight. You will always be welcome here Mathew.”

“Um, it's Mashu…”

“Besides, ” Saber Alter said bluntly. “We really don't have a procedure to kick people out of the knights, so you get to stay.”

The Lancelots winced slightly. Mordred just looked obstinate, which was very similar to the Artorias looking obstinate, but involved slightly more facial muscles.

“Subtle,” Saber said flatly.

"Are we done yet?" Rider Mordred drawled.

"No," Saber Artoria said. "Now take your feet off the table and put on a shirt."

"You're not the boss of me!" the Mordreds said in stereo.

“AHEM,” Archer Artoria said. “We are here to discuss the declaration of war with the French for it's unprovoked attack upon a member of this noble knighthood.”

“Um, no one has actually declared war–” Saber Lily tried to interject.

“Naturally,” Lancer Artoria said. “Everyone knows that the French are a superstitious and cowardly lot who cannot be trusted, and will delay the official announcement of war so they may attack us by surprise.”

Both Lancelots exchanged a look, then sighed as they decided it really wasn't the best time to point out they were French.

"Um, I'm pretty sure they wouldn't do any such thing, the Queens Marie aren’t that sort of people–" Saber Lily tried again.

"Then we must strike first!" Lancer Alter declared. “Else we will return to those dark days of besieging castles and being taunted by frenchmen with outrageous accents!”

“In my defense, that plan would have worked,” Bedivere said. “They brought the rabbit inside, didn't they?”

“Says the man who said the world was banana-shaped,” Saber Lancelot said flatly.

“Well, science is an ongoing process, old assumptions are always being replaced when newer, more accurate information is discovered,” Bedivere said staunchly.

Tristan abruptly jerked upright. “I'm awake!” he declared.

“Stop sleeping, Tristan,” Saber Artoria scolded. “It'll help if you open your eyes, you won't be so sleepy then.”

“Yes, my king,” Tristan said. His eyelids didn't move at all. “Ah, yes, that's much better.”

“We all have swords, ” Mordred pointed out. “We could just cut his eyelids off.”

Tristan smiled. “Ah, good jest Mordred,” he said. There was a beat. “Er, you are joking, right?”

“Can't you tell from the look on my face?” Mordred said flatly.

There was another beat. “Yes, you're obviously joking,” Tristan said, smiling brightly. His eyelids never moved at all.

“Um, if we're done here, I better go and find sempai–” Mashu began as she tried to make a reverse charge. It was definitely a reverse charge and not a retreat!

“Hardly,” Archer Artoria said. “Put down Clarent, Mordred. The attack on a member of our knighthood cannot go unanswered, especially as it was by the French. We must demand an apology and restitution at once! If they refuse, then honor demands that we go to war.”

Saber Mordred blinked. “Wait, father. Are you actually saying that y-you're doing this to defend– ”

Rider Mordred sat up straight so fast they fell out of their chair.

Saber Artoria frowned. “Of course. Though we may have our differences of opinion, as a fellow member of this august body, such attack is also an offense against us.”

“F-father?” Rider Mordred managed to choke out.

“After all, as childish as she can be sometimes, Saber Lily is still one of us. We will defend her honor,” Saber Alter said.

Both Mordreds slumped.

“Um, I wasn't really attacked,” Saber Lily tried one last time. “I freely chose to come to Mordred's defense–”

“Yes, yes, but any attack against you would clearly have been unprovoked,” MHX said. “After all, you're not some sort of loudmouthed braggart who just randomly shoots off their mouth, so you'd clearly never give anyone reason to attack you. Clearly, the attack on you was unprovoked.”

“Hey, I was the one they attacked!” Mordred cried.

“And you clearly deserved it,” Saber said. “After all, why were you badmouthing poor Marie Antoinette? That Austrian girl has suffered enough, having to live and die in France.”

“I wasn't–” Mordred began, before cutting off. “My words were taken out of context!”

“How would 'fuck Marie Antoinette' be taken out of context?” Lancer Alter said.

“Well,” Merlin said brightly, “Mordred could have been saying 'I want to fuck Marie Antoinette' or something like that.”

Everyone stared at the red-clad Saber, even their alternate self in the bikini.

“Well, I suppose Mordred would be at the age where they'd notice girls,” Saber Lancelot said, sounding as if he couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth.

“I'd like to state for the record I'm not into strange things like that,” Rider Mordred said hastily.

“O-of course not!” Saber Mordred said.

“Well, given that's the only context where the words 'fuck Marie Antoinette' could be reasonably be argued as not being an insult to that poor Austrian girl's honor, any other context is unimportant,” Swimsuit Maid Rider Alter Artoria said.

“Unless you're lying about wanting to fuck Marie Antoinette, in which case your name gets more underlines on the Naughty list,” Santa Rider Alter Artoria said. “I might even have to start a new Naughtier list for such a thing.”

“Wouldn't not lying about that also put Mordred on a Naughtier list?” Gawaine said.

“Yes, but it would be a different kind of Naughtier list,” Santa Rider Alter said.

“Brother, stop helping and shut up,” Saber Mordred said.

But, you ask, where is the Master of Chaldea, good ole' Gudao, er, Fujimaru Ritsuka, during all this nonsense? After, all, Plain Tasteless Vanilla-san is always around during all the events and interludes and such, right?

Well, even anonymous, cookie-cutter, featureless, main character types, of the sort you can find anywhere, get hungry too, and at the moment, Ritsuka-kun was waiting in line at the Chaldea cafeteria for his turn to get his tray filled up. His face was its usual bright, cheery and generic self, which really made you wonder if he was suppressing the inevitable PTSD of all the crap he's been going through or just not smart enough to realize he should be traumatized and–

…

!-!-!-!-!

…

Ahem. Our apologies, we did not mean to ACCIDENTALLY INSULT the second most bright and shining star and treasure of Chaldea, the great Master FUJIMARU RITSUKA, the man who saves the world! And if we did so, then it was by COMPLETE ACCIDENT, which we will of course make up for! This is the conclusion we came to after PURELY VOLUNTARY SELF-REFLECTION and not at all because we have a knife held to our throat by Gudak– WE MEAN, FUJIMARU RITSUKO, THE BRIGHTEST AND MOST SHININGEST STAR IN CHALDEA, WHO IS COMPLETELY AND ABSOLUTELY A STERLING PILLAR OF SANITY AND NOT SOME KIND OF MANIAC AND SEXUAL DEVIANT AS SLANDERED BY SOME HACK'S MANGA, OH PLEASE TAKE THAT AWAY FROM MY CROTCH, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE….!

…

Er, ahem. As we were saying, it was a perfectly ordinary day at the Chaldea cafeteria, where one of the only remaining Masters of Chaldea, the perfectly unique, distinctive and not at all generic hero Fujimaru Ritsuka was happily accepting another one of the Nameless Archer's healthy and delicious meals. Standing patiently beside him, wearing a radiant, heroic smile^TM© and idly wiping a knife with a little blood on it for ABSOLUTELY INNOCENT REASONS, was his twin sister and the only other surviving Master of Chaldea, Fujimaru Ritsuko, not Gudako, that was just a foul lie made up by some stupid mangaka! Together, they were the twin Masters who had saved human history, traveling across times and relative distances in space, and all sorts of weird events, collecting Holy Grails, defeating Demon Pillars, meeting Epic Spirits from across time across time, etc., etc. and so forth.

So yes, that's what they were doing. What were you expecting something more? Well, too bad,it was just lunch and innocently cleaning blood from a knife. However, this handily explains why they weren't around to handle things, so there.

---

Meanwhile, among the French…

"I call this meeting of the Jeanne High Command to order!" Ruler Jeanne d'Arc said, thumping down the butt of her flag.

Most people were probably expecting Avenger Jeanne Alter to be the militaristic head of the French. Most people would be wrong.

Said Alter was standing slightly behind her original, a perplexed look on her face as she wondered why things weren't the other way around. On Jeanne's other side, Lancer Jeanne Alter Santa Lily, leaning against her spear drooping sleepily. As a Santa, the hours of night were her time, and this nonsense about being up at noon was doing horrible things to her sleep cycle. Real Santas didn't go around when the sun was up, darn it!

In the room with them, which lacked it's own round table because they weren't into that, were the other French Servants of Chaldea, except those treacherous Lancelots, who'd sided with the silly English kenigets. Both Gilles were hanging on to Ruler Jeanne's every word, While Sanson, Mozart and D'eon were arrayed around the Queens Marie, the Rider and Caster sitting together side by side on heir impromptu thrones, which were a pair of recliners they'd managed to thronify. Avenger Edmond Dantes leaned against a back wall like the absurdly-rich, avenging hero of the darkness that he was, looking detached but mildly interested. Astolfo sat on a stool, eating from a bag of chips. All in all, it was a pretty pitiful contingent.

Ruler Jeanne faced them all loudly proclaimed, “My Queens! Once more, I shall raise this flag, for this country's—-no, for France's salvation. Order has gone up in flames, and so much purpose has been lost to thte English. Our future vanished in but a second. Listen to my words, brave warriors gathered here, legion of brave heroic spirits! No matter if you were sworn enemies or no matter how far your time periods apart, now you must entrust your backs to one another! My true name is Jeanne d'Arc. In the name of my Lord and France, I shall stand as your shield! This struggle is one that has long endured through the sands of human history. But there is no need for concern, as untold fateful encounters await you. Though this entire Chaldea has become the battlefield of our Holy War, though the world has been brought to ruin, though countless Artorias block your path, the end has still yet to be determined by anyone. Now, let us begin our fight, Vive Le France!”

Astolfo, and the Maries applauded politely. The others had heard that speech too many times to really be affected by it.

“Is that the only speech you know?” Jeanne Alter said rudely. “Because it's seriously getting stale.”

“Well, it works, and that's the important bit,” Ruler Jeanne said, not deigning to look towards her critic. “My queens! We cannot let this insult to your persons stand! I propose we break this siege and go after the vile and despicable English.”

There was a cheer from D'eon, Sanson and Mozart (who wasn't French,but they weren't being fussy, since without him they'd already be . outnumber by the Artorias alone) at this. Though their Servantly constitutions meant there was no noticeable harm done from the, lets face it, brutal asskicking they'd gotten from a pair of Sabers, they all had bruised egos.

“Oh dear, is that really necessary?” Rider Marie said. “After all, it is Sir Mordred, after all. If they weren't swearing, one would have to call Medea Lily to see if they are not ill.”

Caster Marie nodded, balancing her ball on her lap. “Perhaps you missed the context of their words? Maybe they were instead saying they 'I want to fuck Marie Antoinette' and you merely overheard the end of their words?”

“Ah, yes, that! Well-thought other me!” Rider Marie said. “Yes, that would make perfect sense. Sir Mordred is likely at the age to notice girls, and we are very noticeable.” She reached out and stroked Caster Marie's cheek playfully. “Why, I find myself noticing you all the time, so why would it be any surprise that a hot-blooded knight who so loudly proclaims their manliness would not do so as well?”

Caster Marie placed her hand over Rider Marie's own. “Oh, how trying it must be on the young knight, to have no beauties but their fathers around them to notice.”

“My queens, your Hapsburg tendencies are showing again,” Mozart said politely.

“Yeah, cut out the twincesty stuff,” Jeanne Alter said impolitely. “Stop making us look as bad as the Irish!”