London rose in bloody riot.
It started at the edge of the slums. Words were traveling fast, information mutating into more and more horrific caricatures of the truth as more and more slum dwellers, drunk on the fear of losing their hope, armed themselves with torches, pitchforks, and armor of anger.
The darkness of the slums was lit up by incandescent rage.
In the slums, it was very difficult to find someone who the Angel hadn't touched in some way, be it themselves or someone close to them, everyone had experienced her miracles in some way. Men and women poured from the alleys and homes by the thousands. Wielding torches, they formed rivers of light that snaked between and through the various homes. Those closest to Iskander were marching like proper soldiers, but the further away, the more chaotic things became. Everyone shouted their grievances, hatred, and negativity boiling over in this frenzy stirred up by the King of Conquerors.
Like a flood, the army of Iskander spread out from the slums. They overturned carts and chased away horses. They shouted for justice for the downtrodden while beating bloody any police who got in their way. No one was spared, be they highborn or low. The son-in-law of Mrs. Darlington, wife of a factory owner, got stabbed by a pitchfork when he tried to defend her from four rioters intent on raping her. The household of Torrington, a Viscount with over a century of history, stood in defense of their home— until a disgruntled maid let the mob in. The Lady of House Torrington witnessed her family's torture by the rioters, her youngest daughter bleeding from between her legs when a knife made a bloody smile across her neck.
No honor was given to her corpse.
Organized efforts by newly awakened police were hastily made and were just as hastily unmade. Dozens of policemen were hacked to pieces by butchers, their heads placed atop spikes and paraded down the street akin to idols, their silver stars glittering like jewels, reflecting the madness that consumed the slums. Hundreds more joined the rioters, throwing away their silver stars and stomping on them as they looted shops.
At the center of a square in London's upper district, Iskander stopped. The crowd stopped behind him. Surrounded by severed heads, the Conqueror drank deep into the anger and fanaticism that surrounded him. He smiled. Oh, how long since he has last conquered anything?
He yelled, pointing at Big Ben in the distance, "There is only ONE way to ensure our freedom is never stolen again! Only ONE way to make certain we never return to the darkness of the past! London is their city—its streets paved with our suffering, its walls built on our backs. But to make it yours, you must tear them from their thrones! You must wipe them from the earth! Only by drowning the oppressors in their own blood can we shatter the chains they have bound us in! We shall storm Buckingham Palace! We shall tear down its gates! AND WE SHALL CARRY OUT THE QUEEN'S HEAD FOR ALL TO SEE!"
Thousands of voices cried out the same message. "KILL THEM ALL! KILL THEM ALL!"
Fires consumed swathes of the industrial district, lighting up the horizon like the sun right before it set.
"The city has gone mad." A shaken Benedict said as he looked out from the balcony of the Church. "Do you not see? The Devil dances among the people, their wills robbed by his charm."
Ritsuka felt sick. Even from kilometers away, the teen could hear the faint shouting of men and women stirred up into a frenzy. Unimaginable atrocities were happening all over the city. It was a repeat of what had happened to Constantinople; his worst fears materialized.
"We should sneak into the Palace," Kuku said, an indecipherable look on her face. Her arms lay crossed around her chest.
Ritsuka looked almost violated by Kuku's suggestion. "What are you saying? We should let Iskander continue with his 'conquest'? You still have some power, can you not—"
Ritsuka cut himself off. He wanted to suggest killing Iskander, but he realized he shouldn't. "...can you not stop him?" Ritsuka weakly asked. "You're their angel, are you not? They'll listen to you!"
Kuku took in a deep breath. The distant fire cast a haunting reflection in her eyes, coloring them with hues of red and orange. "Ritsuka. It's too late to stop the riot now. Iskander has them on an invisible leash. I am just a facade to recruit newcomers. If I kill him, all that'll do is turn the mob into pure chaos. There'll be a crush."
"So you suggest we should just… let them rampage?"
Without hesitating, "Ritsuka, I understand how unpalatable this is—"
"You think?" Ritsuka snarked.
"—but think of it this way: the faster we end this Singularity, the less pain there'll be."
"...alright." Ritsuka's voice sounded dead. He glanced at the distant fires.
"I'll be going now—"
"I'm coming with you," Ritsuka stated, staring intensely at Kuku.
The Goddess appeared taken aback by the ferocity behind the Last Master of Mankind's eyes. Was it because she saw a familiar fire in them? Was it out of pity that she realized this was personal? Or perhaps Ritsuka hasn't told her the potential rooms where the Grail might be stored.
Kuku relented. "Very well. We'll get there far faster if I carry you. Hop on." Kuku showed Ritsuka her back, her arms ready.
"I think it's better if your arms are free, Kukulkan." Mash said, manifesting her Demiservant armor, "You can fend off crowds of people better than I can. I'll carry Senpai."
Kuku's lips thinned before nodding to Mash's logic. "Alright, let's go."
Mash and Kuku sped through the streets of London. For every step Mash took, half a dozen meters were crossed. Kuku, on the other hand, looked like she was speed-walking.
Ritsuka rests upon Mash's back. Because of how fast the two were moving, Ritsuka didn't have much time to fully take in the destruction caused by the mob thousands strong. What he had no issue taking in, however, were the smells.
The scent of blood was strong in the air, alongside the repugnant scent of burnt flesh and fat. The smell of semen filled the tiny places where neither of the former was there. He had to hold his breath, taking in air only through his mouth lest his meal escape his stomach.
Ritsuka looked away from the corpses of women and men. He tried to block out the smell, the distant screams—
It was so horrible. Without the veil of civility, this was what humans would devolve into— This savagery.
"..."
The deeper the trio entered the upper-class portion of London, the more people they encountered, and the less damaged everything looked.
Sounds of cannons echoed across the city. The police… no, that had to be the royal guards trying to bar Iskander from approaching the Palace's gate. They've resulted to drastic measures, trying to frighten the populace into submission. But they're already afraid. Adding more fear will only make the rioters even more desperate, as it's proving Iskander correct. There is no way to de-escalate the situation anymore.
Individuality was lost among the mob, transforming into a singular organism that Iskander intended to ride upon like a horse.
"We're here," Kuku said as she and Mash slowed down. They were in a forest.
There were more distant screams. Man or woman, Ritsuka couldn't tell. Sounds of more cannon fire and guns echoed between the houses like a canyon. Ritsuka looked at the chaos a hundred meters away, disappointment strung across his face.
The iron fences of Buckingham Palace were right in front of them. With Iskander taking up all the royal guard's focus, no one bothered patrolling the perimeter ground.
Kuku reached out, her hands gripping the metal bars, and pulled. Rather than bend like all metal under too much stress tends to do, Kuku's hands acted like a knife and carved out the section of the metal bar covered by her fingers.
Using this to her advantage, the Goddess cut open the fence, permitting them to go in.
"Alright, Ritsuka, show me the rooms," Kuku said. She sped forward and cut a human-shaped hole in Buckingham Palace. It was as if she was a void in the shape of a human, deleting anything she touched. Dust piled on the ground, dust that used to make up the wall.
He was never in this part of the Palace. Even though he spent the better part of an hour exploring the residency of British royalty, it still wasn't enough to cover a third of the entire mansion.
Every closed door was busted down with a single kick from Kuku. Unlike the metal bars, the doors shattered like a proper wooden door should. They were greeted with empty guest rooms, the surface of their furniture dustless even though unused for months at a time.
Any guards encountered were thrown away by Kuku, and all stayed down once they hit the ground. They weren't dead, they're just either knocked unconscious or are in too much pain to do anything more.
Eventually, Kuku kicked down a door, and loud screaming came out.
A gaggle of nobles was huddled in the room like scared rats. Several of the women had black lines running down their cheeks. Mascara, Ritsuka reminded himself. Scanning the crowd, Rituska found several familiar faces. He saw the young man that Artoria was paired with. He spotted Artoria amidst the crowd. He didn't see Caroline anywhere.
Oh. Oh no.
"Artoria," Kuku said. The woman stepped forward even when Charles stepped forward and grabbed onto her wrist.
"It seems my instincts were correct: there's something more about you lot than what appears on the surface," Charles said. He didn't seem angry, more curious. "Who are you all? Tell me the truth, I deserve this much for helping you."
"We are the Chaldean Security Organization." Mash answered in place of her Master, Ritsuka distracted by something else, "We set out to correct deviations in history. Something happened in this time period that caused an irregularity. We're here to solve it."
The fashion designer took a deep breath. "Well, that's certainly not something I expected. A bit far-fetched even for me, but I've heard of an 'Angel' healing the slums, and seen the 'Angel' kicking down our door like it was made from paper. I'm convinced. Tell me, is the riot outside something that's supposed to happen?"
"No," Mash said.
"Will it still happen after the irregularity has been solved?"
"Yes." Mash nodded.
"Then go, repair this irregularity. Unmake the riot, unmake the chaos, unmake the deaths— undo all this. Return to what should be."
Both Mash and Ritsuka nodded, the latter having recovered enough to notice the outside world.
The four left and ran through the labyrinthine halls of Buckingham Palace in search of the Grail. Their footsteps echoed faintly on the marbled floors. One by one, the palace doors fell, and knocked down with a single kick from Kuku. Everyone except the Goddess peered inside while she continued onward to open more doors.
The muffled cacophony of gunfire and screams slipped through the windows of the palace. Chaos stood on the periphery of this place, like the stormy sea outside of a ship. Ritsuka knows it'll only be a matter of time before the mob, driven by Iskander's desire to conquer, break through the palace gate and flood into Buckingham Palace. When, not if that happens, it'll be a bloodbath for everyone here.
Just the thought of it caused him… surprisingly little revulsion. He couldn't let the mob in. Even if the people within these walls were the source of the suffering outside, the suffering he and many others endured, even if they built their fortunes off the backs of the starving and the forgotten, they didn't deserve…
Ritsuka came in blank. A dark thought emerged, an insidious, vindictive voice coiled around his mind like a python. This was justice. How many died starving in the shadows while these people fasted in the light? How many children were forced to eat only scraps found in the trash, their eyes just as empty as their bellies? In the end, this pain will be erased, so why not push for as much 'justice' as possible?
"Senpai, are you all alright?" Mash asked, concern visible on her face.
Ritsuka's breath hitched. He shook his head, trying to purge that dark voice from his mind. He felt guilty for thinking of his fellow man in such ways. The old him would surely reprimand his current self for such thoughts.
"I'm fine. Let's go."
She was unconvinced.
There was a mighty kick, and the twin doors swung right open, their handles stabbing into the walls. Inside was a bedroom of such size that it eclipsed all others. In front of the door was a large bed.
"I found the Queen," Kuku announced. The others gathered at this place.
Ritsuka visibly recoiled at the sight of the Queen in the bed. Sheets covered her body. She was clutching a golden cup— the Holy Grail— and something else.
Artoria sounded surprised, "You—!"
It was a body. Blackened with decomposition and smelling horrible.
"Oh, Albert, so long as I have you here, I don't care for anything else." The woman clung to the body like a thirsting man would to water. She gripped it so tightly that Ritsuka heard bones snapping.
"Queen Victoria loved Prince Albert." Mash explained, "She never stopped dressing in mourning clothes for the rest of her life after Albert's passing due to Typhoid fever. This must be a dream for her."
"Such must be the cause behind her neglect of her people," Artoria commented, her lips thinned as she gazed upon the Queen's form.
Of everyone in Chaldea, only two could be considered peers with each other. Two were kings of their nations. In this room, that number remains the same. Only a fellow king should judge another king, for few know the burden of leadership. Thus, what thoughts might be coursing through Artoria's mind right now? Were they of judgment? Of how weak Queen Victoria was for neglecting her people, obsessed with gone-bys? Or were they of sympathy? For not too long ago, Artoria also wanted to chase her past and redo her kingship.
No one but Artoria knows.
Kuku reached out to grab the Grail and received a violent response.
"NO!"
The Queen launched herself away in an inhuman manner. She was on the other side of the bed, on the other side of the room.
"You will not take Albert away from me again! The court mage did as he promised, bringing him back. I will not let him go again! I cannot let him go again." The Queen looked at the corpse, a frenzied, desperate madness in her eyes, "Oh, Albert, give me strength. Be my pillar once more as you have been before."
Having been detached from magical energy for so long, the surge of power around Queen Victoria felt almost alien.
"Albert, we will always—"
A hand slammed Victoria's head into the wall. The sharp pain relaxed her arms, letting Kuku grab the Grail.
It was… finally over.
Ritsuka's chest heaved as two very different emotions warred for dominance. Relief first washed over him like a cool, cleansing shower, soothing the sudden exhaustion that accompanied the relief. The Singularity was over; this bubble of altered spacetime would unravel, history would return to normal, and he'd be one step closer to restoring humanity to what it once was.
And yet… underneath that relief resides a darker undercurrent that churned and poisoned the relief— a bitterness that refuses to be quieted. It gnawed at him like termites, those leeches, those parasites who profited on the suffering of others, they had not tasted the pain he had. They haven't felt the crushing wheel of industrialization. Now, they will slither away, untouched. At most, they'll pay future workers more once workers' rights start being more popular.
The injustice burned him. Burned away the relief. Justice for the innocent. Justice for people like William, whose hope is robbed.
Mash inserted the Grail into her Shield. Everyone waited for the Singularity to collapse fully and for them to be returned to Chaldea. Ritsuka eagerly awaited his soft bed and Archer-made burrito.
And yet, something was wrong. The Singularity wasn't ending.
"No…" The Queen muttered, prompting everyone to look at her, "Don't… go, Albert."
Mash felt sympathy for the Queen. She could only imagine how devastated she must've been when Prince Albert died. Someone who's so important to you that you would grieve for them for decades after. The loss of one's soulmate.
"Why… isn't this Singularity ending?"
There was a loud crash outside. Kuku reached the windows first and gasped.
Ritsuka was second there and saw what caused Kuku to be so surprised.
A pit opened up in the square in front of Buckingham's front door. A sinkhole, in the shape of a perfect circle, centered around what could come to be known as Queen Victoria Memorial. It was a maw that devoured the space in front of the palace and much of the rioters, of such size that entire manors could fit neatly inside. Its impossibly clean edge destroyed any possibility of it being natural.
An absurd amount of magical energy exploded out of that sinkhole like a volcano. They took the form of a fog. A massive eruption of fog alight with sinister purple fell upon the rioters who stood on the edge of the sinkhole like raindrops in a thunderstorm.
"What is… what is happening?" Ritsuka wondered out loud.
The sound of rats filled the air—their skittering, chittering self. They were so numerous that their combined chorus made it audible even when the teen stood almost a hundred meters away. Following the sound of rats scurrying about was the sound of a loud thump, as if something large and fleshy had fallen off a cliff.
The Rat King.
"There existeth a second Holy Grail." Someone said, the voice was vaguely familiar, but not enough that Ritsuka instantly knew who said it.
"Nursery Rhyme," Kuku said.
Nursery Rhyme stood next to Queen Victoria, who was cradling the corpse of Prince Albert like he was a dying lover. She demurely pointed at herself, as if she was above the happenings around her.
"Yes. Me."
Kuku burst into motion. Her hands clamped like pinchers around Nursery Rhyme's throat, her face a rictus of anger, she said, "I was wondering where you are."
Nursery's feet no longer touched the ground. She was lifted off it like a doll.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't break your neck here and now?"
Nursery Rhyme was surprisingly calm about the whole ordeal. It was as if she was being held up by a friend rather than at the risk of dying, an extremely sharp contrast with the Goddess.
"It mattereth not." Nursery Rhyme said, "Mine office is but that of an observer. Slay me if thou wilt, yet I daresay the Last Master wouldst desire the truth of Jack—wouldst thou not agree?"
"Who?" Kuku narrowed her eyes.
"The Rat King."
____
AN: Took a lot of inspiration from Fire and Blood for that riot scene.
Anyway, now we finally got the name of the Rat King, and it's Jack.
I LOVE writing out this and the next chapter. The reveal of the mystery, man I love it.