Path of the King - Chapter 1 (Patreon)

Hey guys! Welcome to the first chapter of my latest story. Should I have started a new story when I can't keep up with my current ones? Maybe not. Did I do so anyway? Absolutely. 

This story is a commission from one of you guys, LordCampione, and I just liked the idea too much not to go for it. I've been mulling over writing something in the Fate or Campione! worlds for like, multiple years at this point, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity.

As you can probably guess from the previous paragraph, this is a Fate (Nasuverse)/Campione! crossover. I know not everyone is familiar with both (or either) settings so I'm going to try to make the story as accessible as possible. If you have questions you can't answer with a google search, ask me here or on discord! It might very well be a completely original element.

I don't accept too many commissions (I write slowly, inconsistently, and have too little time to do it as it is :sob:), but this one caught my eye. Hopefully y'all will enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed working on it.

This is where I'd normally tell you the planned update schedule, but I've decided I'm going to try not doing that for a bit and just keeping it private. Stuff keeps coming up every time I do do that, and at this rate I'm going to get hit by a car or something the next time I say 'chapter coming tomorrow' or whatever else.

Anyway, here's the story! Chapters 2, 3, and 4 coming in the next few minutes.

From this high up, Alexandria looked rather beautiful. The lights of the city sparkled like little stars, a stark contrast against the blackness of the Mediterranean sea. I watched the city through half-lidded eyes, feeling the faint shaking and vibrations of the plane through my cheek pressed up against the wall beside me. 

There was a soft crackle. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We’ve already started our descent procedure into Borg El Arab International Airport and should be landing right about 10:15 local time, just as scheduled. If you’ve reclined your seat or are using a large electronic device, now would be the time to sit up and stow those away.”

The man cleared his throat, then continued. “If you want to adjust your watches, it's 9:53 in Alexandria now. The weather is nice and clear and it’s twenty-one degrees Celsius in the city. On behalf of all our crew, thank you for choosing Norwegian as your airline today. We wish you a pleasant stay in Alexandria and we hope to see you again very soon.”

There was another soft crackle and then the cabin fell mercifully silent. A young woman wearing the red scarf, blue vest, pencil-skirt, and white undershirt of a stewardess passed by my seat, and I obligingly moved my arm out of the way so she could see that my seatbelt was properly fastened. She scanned the area around me, smiled tightly, and moved onward. 

I sighed softly, watching the tiny little buildings pass by far below. It was a familiar sight. I’d flown in and out of Borg El Arab what must have been forty or fifty times in the past decade and had grown used to the view, but today it felt…different. This could very well be my last time seeing it like this. My next flight departed in the early morning, and Alexandria looked far better without the light of day to highlight all the worst parts of the city. 

I closed my eyes, humming softly in time with the hum of the plane’s engines. I folded one leg over the other, grateful for the ability to stretch my legs out. Business class wasn’t exactly the lap of luxury, particularly not on a plane like this, but it was still better than I remembered from Before. 

As the plane tilted and the city below vanished, my view filled instead with the dark waters of the sea and the endless, cloudless sky. The moon shone bright and nearly full, a gleaming silver disk illuminating the sky with its cool glow. I wondered if anyone up there was looking back down at me. Brunestud, perhaps. Or the Jade Rabbit. Or any number of other gods whose homes were said to exist upon earth’s nearest celestial neighbor. 

I sighed again, louder this time. Probably not. I wasn’t worth watching, after all. Few people were. And I certainly wasn’t one of them. 

The plane finished its turn and leveled out. I could no longer see the coastline and the city beneath me had grown significantly larger. I could just barely make out individual cars now creeping down the roads, tiny colorful dots with their glowing headlights. Not much longer now.

There was someone waiting for me when I finally made my way out of the airport. Gamal, one of my sister’s personal attendants, was standing in front of a sleek black car that probably cost more than most people in Alexandria made in a lifetime. I hadn’t told anyone that I’d be flying in tonight, but I wasn’t surprised to see him. There was little that happened in Egypt that escaped my family's notice.

I slung my duffle bag over my shoulder and headed towards the car. My jeans and button down were feeling rather uncomfortable right about now. Like every time, I’d forgotten just how oppressive the heat here could be, even long after the sun had set. The ground beneath my feet radiated warmth like a furnace, and the short walk between the air-conditioned airport and Gamal’s car was unpleasant.

Gamal silently watched me as I approached, staring at my clothing with obvious disapproval. I stopped in front of him and raised a single eyebrow, wondering if he was going to say something this time. Gamal never approved of what I was wearing when I returned home, but he was too polite to say it to my face. 

Gamal made sure I’d noticed his disdain, then took my bags and silently loaded them into the car’s trunk. He opened the door for me and I climbed inside the refreshingly cool car, finding a glass bottle of sweet, ice-cold hibiscus tea waiting for me in the cupholder. My favorite. I smiled slightly.

As much as the man did not like nor approve of me, I was still a Hephaestius, and thus worthy of his loyal service. I appreciated that about the man. Better than some of my family’s servants, certainly. 

Gamal took a seat behind the wheel and we smoothly pulled away from the airport. I took a sip of my tea and set the bottle back down in its place. “How’s little Dalia doing?” I asked casually.

Gamal did not respond. 

I sighed, my tone turning formal. “How is my honored lady sister faring, Gamal?” I amended my question.

This time the man deigned to respond. “The Great Heiress is well. Her studies continue apace. She progresses by leaps and bounds where others can only hope to crawl. She is as ever a credit to the family name.”

Translation: same as usual. About what I was expecting. If anything had happened, I probably would have been informed about it sooner rather than later. I was a failure and a disappointment that my family preferred not to think or speak of, but I was still technically family. Or at the very least, whatever children I might eventually have could potentially be real family. Maybe. If they were lucky and didn’t suffer from the same deficiencies as I did.

“Glad to hear it. And my great lord father and blessed mother?” It was hard to stop the derision with which I usually spoke of them from coloring my words, but I must have managed it just fine because Gamal didn’t visibly react. 

“The Master is away, attending to business with the Council of Sands. The Mistress has already departed for the chateau.”

Now if that wasn’t the best news I’d heard all day. I’d hoped to time things in such a manner that I wouldn’t need to see my sperm and egg donors while I was here, but there was always a chance that one of them would still be around for some reason or another. I was extremely glad that was not the case. They were certainly not the people I was here to visit. 

The car was silent for several minutes after that. I sipped slowly on my drink, my eyes closed and my breathing smooth and even. Thus, I was rather surprised when Gamal spoke up of his own initiative. I could count the number of times that had happened on one hand with plenty of fingers to spare. One less, now. 

“The young mistress Anet has inquired after you several times. She will be pleased to know you’ve returned.”

Ah. He’d always had a soft spot for Anet. Not that that was much of a surprise. A lot of people had a soft spot for Anet. Myself included. She was just…one of those people. It was hard not to like her. 

“Wait till morning, if you could.”

Gamal’s expression didn’t change. “Very well.”

I had no doubts that Anet would know I was back long before Gamal passed along a message tomorrow morning. The Vorontsov family did not have nearly as much of a legacy here in Egypt as my own family did, but their influence within the Council of Sands was nearly as significant and their information network was extensive. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d known I was coming before my plane took off from Oslo. 

However, it would be exceedingly rude to call on me before my presence was officially noted. Still, I imagined there would be an invitation––or possibly a guest––waiting for me when I woke up tomorrow. If she wasn’t the heiress, and thus had all manner of social and familial expectations hanging over her head, I had no doubts there would have been a second person waiting for me at the airport. Anet, for all her many virtues, wasn’t a very patient girl. 

The rest of the car ride passed in comfortable silence. Just before midnight, I felt us pass through the bounded field around my family’s estate. The road we were driving over instantly went from slightly bumpy to perfectly flat and smooth, and I knew that if I opened the car window the air outside would be cool, fresh, and completely free of sand and other grime. 

Despite already being within the grounds, Gamal continued to drive for nearly ten more minutes. I didn’t bother opening my eyes, knowing Gamal would just take that as an invitation to say something beyond what was absolutely necessary. I was fresh off an international flight––I was allowed to act tired. 

Eventually, we pulled into an underground garage and Gamal parked the car, before climbing out, retrieving my luggage, and opening the door for me. I stepped out of the car, snagging the half-empty bottle of tea. I smiled faintly as I saw the real, well-used chariot parked in the spot beside us. The chariot was in fact significantly faster and considerably more expensive than the car I’d just ridden in, but it looked extremely out of place between two different luxury cars. 

There was another servant waiting for us, a hint of a frown on her lips and a neatly folded stack of clothes slung over her arm. I thought I recognized her as one of the maids––her name was Layla maybe––though judging from her clothing she’d been promoted since the summer. Not just a house cleaner anymore, but an attendant. Good for her.

“Young Master Keon,” she greeted me with a fake smile, bowing her head just far enough to be considered acceptable but not truly polite. She extended her arms out towards me, proffering the pile of clothes.

I glanced down at them––robe, tunic, loose pants, and even fresh undergarments, all made from royal linen and finely embroidered and bejeweled. They weren’t the sort of priceless clothing-shaped mystic codes that my parents and sister always wore, but the materials alone probably cost as much as an American’s college tuition. 

I smiled back at her just as fakely. “I’m good.” It had been fun to wear such fancy things for a while, but I’d missed normal clothing and just wasn’t feeling like it right now. I had no doubt that everything casual that I’d packed would mysteriously vanish overnight, only to reappear when it was time for me to leave, forcing me to wear whatever was hanging in my closet, but I would prefer to put that off for an extra hour or two.

She straightened, her nose slightly wrinkled and a smile frozen on her lips, and looked me up and down. “You can not expect to meet the Great Heiress dressed as you are,” she told me flatly.

Oooh, a spine. That was almost refreshing. Very few of the servants––at least the ones who hadn’t been with the family as long as Gamal had––would be willing to speak to me like that. I may be disfavored by my parents, but they were still my family’s servants, and my egg donor had made that very clear on several rather memorable occasions. 

I shrugged carelessly, then took a drink of my tea. I was tempted to splash some onto the pile of white clothes, but I wasn’t that petty. Living alone in college had taught me first hand just how much of a pain it was to get hibiscus stains out of clothing. The stuff was unbelievably stubborn. I’d even managed to put a stubborn splotch on my granite countertops the first time I’d tried making karkadeh for myself.

“Eh. If Dalia thinks my mundane clothes are so offensive, she can talk to me in the morning. I’m gonna be around for a couple of days, there’s no rush.”

The attendant stared at me for several long moments, looking rather appalled by my statement. I silently stared back, challenging her to say something. It wasn’t like looking at her was some great trial. She was a very pretty young woman, as most of the servants were, and did an excellent job filling out her uniform. The contrast between her dark skin and the white, blue, and gold of her uniform was rather appealing. There was a reason I tended to wear those same colors myself these days. 

I couldn’t say I agreed with a lot of my family’s decisions over the years, but whichever one of my distant ancestors had designed the servant’s uniforms was a true man of culture. You didn’t need to be French to dress the help in short skirts, tight-tops, and chokers. 

Eventually she mastered her expression and looked away. Disappointing, but not surprising. “As the young master wishes,” she told me meekly. Then her tone shifted from deferent to biting, “This one will make sure to inform the Great Heiress of your words.”

I shrugged again. “Go for it.” My sister wouldn’t mind me addressing her so casually the way Layla clearly thought she would. 

It spoke of her recent promotion that she didn’t really know my sister all that well just yet. Dalia could act like a perfect noble lady, but she was a lot more laid back deep down. I knew for a fact that she had a half-dozen purely mundane––if very, very expensive––outfits tucked away inside her workshop where the servants were not permitted to go. I’d helped her buy them, after all. She didn’t get the chance to wear them often, but rarely was certainly not never. 

I turned away, grabbing my backpack from Gamal and noted the glare she shot me when she thought I wasn’t looking. There was a lot more anger in it than I was expecting. I waited for her to vanish through the doorway, then raised an eyebrow at the man. 

He frowned tightly. “The Master had her promoted.”

“Ah.” One of daddy’s pets then. Not a spine, but just an over-inflated sense of self worth. Nothing to worry about; she’d be gone by this time next year if not sooner. My egg donor only tolerated him messing around with the help for so long. Anything more than a few months and he might ‘get attached’. 

I sighed heavily. Poor thing. Mommy dearest had a very literal interpretation of the term ‘severance package’. 

Eh. Not my business. It was a familiar song-and-dance by now. Dalia and I both knew to keep any female servants we actually liked out of our Father’s line of sight, and that was that.

“Indeed.” That was about as close towards criticizing my parents as Gamal would get.

“Well. I’m going to go for a walk around the grounds. Stretch my legs a bit before I turn in for the night.” I riffled through my bag and grabbed a few things before passing the rest of it back to Gamal. “There’s a blue bag in my duffel. Make sure it doesn’t wander off, okay?” His expression didn’t change so I quickly added, “It's for Anet.” That should do the trick.

He nodded. “Consider it done.”

“Good man.”

I stuck my hands in my pockets and walked away, whistling an off-key tune. I could feel Gamal’s gaze boring into my back, but he once again remained silent. Only once I’d rounded a corner did I allow my shoulders to slump. Being back here was…exhausting. And sad.

My feet led me out of the underground garage that had once been an expansive stable and out onto the grounds. My family’s estate was vaste and really didn’t fit in with the surroundings. Outside the bounded field was a dry, barren desert. Within the ancient wards however lay an entire verdant mountain, a small mountain, but a mountain nonetheless. 

An enormous mansion that looked more like a castle than a house was built directly into the stone, completely with soaring arches, high towers capped with pointed roofs, and many, many balconies. It was the reason I’d initially thought I’d been reborn into some fantasy world and not modern-day Egypt. The architecture––as splendid as it was––just didn’t fit in. Apparently we’d once had something a lot more traditional, but it had been entirely rebuilt by one of my thirteenth-century ancestors. 

Around it extended terraces of sprawling gardens, smaller out-buildings only connected to the greater whole through underground passages, and many acres of well-tended fields. This land had belonged to my family for generations and we had made the most of it. Much of our wealth came simply from time and legacy, but we were not blind to the bounties of the earth. There were several small villages on the grounds from which we drew our servants and men to work the fields, mines, and workshops. 

I wandered aimlessly for what must have been at least half an hour. I walked from garden to garden, meandered along walkways and cliffsides, and stared out into the darkness. I’d wanted to relax, but apparently that just wasn’t in the cards. Every rock, tree, and building just made the hole inside my chest grow wider and wider. 

Did I really want to risk all this? Was it really worth it? Maybe I didn’t really belong here, maybe my parents didn’t like me, but I was still family. This was still my home. I’d been born to unimaginable wealth, was I really willing to just throw it away?

There were so many memories associated with this place. There was the hall where I first met Anet. Dalia and I used to hide from the servants in that tree. That was the garden where I used to go to read, with its great view of the valley and its big tree to provide shade on even the hottest summer day. 

If things went even a little wrong, this might be my last time seeing it like this. Hell, if things went right, this might still be my last time seeing it like this. Some things could permanently change a man, and that change was not always purely for the better. The next time I came home, I could be a very different person indeed. 

Was it worth it? Was the chance to make something more of myself really worth giving up what I already had?

Maybe. Perhaps not for everyone, but for me? Probably.

If it worked…I’d have to wait and see. And if it didn’t, well. Death didn’t scare me nearly as much as it once had. 

I already knew that more than just oblivion lay beyond the bounds of life.