Path of the King - Chapter 4 (Patreon)

Hey guys! Welcome to the fourth 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.

THIS IS CHAPTER 4. If you haven't read chapters 1, 2, and 3 yet, go read those first!

It took me longer than it should have to wash up, dry off, and get dressed. My arms felt leaden as I pulled on the outfit hanging on my dressing rack. The linen shirt and pants were dyed a brilliant blue and richly embroidered, small jewels and metallic threads glittering like stars as I moved around. 

The shirt didn’t fit quite right. I’d grown slightly since the last time I’d worn it and it was a tiny bit too tight across my shoulders and over my arms. I considered calling for a servant to bring me something else, but decided that would feel too much like actually stalling. I was just taking my time, which was something completely different. 

It wasn’t really that big a deal. One of the servants would notice something was wrong and tomorrow’s outfit would fit perfectly as it usually did. Depending on who was on duty this morning and which servants were out of the manor, I might even have new clothing laid out for me when I came back to my room after breakfast. After all, it was an embarrassment to the family for its former heir to be seen in ill-fitting clothing.

I looked at myself in the mirror and carefully affixed a smile on my face. I had a very good smile, the kind that made girls’ pulses quicken and older woman swoon. It had better. I’d spent a long time practicing it for a reason. Mother had taught those lessons to Dalia and I personally, and they hadn’t stopped until she was happy. I’d been happy for the attention at first, and for getting to spend so much time with Dalia, but twelve hour days of anything get exhausting very quickly. 

And Anet was going to see right through it anyway.

I sighed and made to step out into the living room, only to pause in the doorway to take in the view. Anet had, as I’d expected, wasted no time opening her present. The blue bag was sliced neatly in half as though with a razor blade and both halves were lying on the floor on opposite sides of the room. 

What I hadn’t expected however was that she’d immediately decided to try her present on. Her red dress was thrown haphazardly over the back of a couch and I could see one of her strappy heels poking out from under the coffee table.

Now, Norway is famous for a number of products, several of which I’d already brought back as gifts over the years. Anet had loved the bronost cheese (of which there had been another package in the bag), had told me the akvavit wasn’t nearly high enough proof to be worth drinking, and had threatened to stab me over the rakfisk, putting a peg in my plans to follow it up with hákarl during my trip to Iceland later that year.

This time however, I’d decided to move away from food and ordered something special for my best friend. The elderly craftswoman I’d commissioned had given me some rather scandalized looks, but my money was as good as anyone’s and I was happy to overpay.

Looking at Anet now, I was very pleased with my purchase. The sweater she was wearing, if it could even still be called that, wasn’t going to be protecting anyone from the cold, but that wasn’t its purpose. That would have been pretty useless for her after all, both because we lived in Egypt where it could get pretty damn hot even during the winter and because Anet’s family magic made them all legendarily resistant to the elements. She could prance around buck naked in a blizzard and be completely fine. 

Instead, it was based on a half-remembered design from before. The wool was dyed a rich blue and woven with traditional patterns, but that was the only traditional thing about it. It was long and form-fitting, extending down to the top of Anet’s thighs and tightly hugging her upper body and hips. It was almost completely backless, exposing Anet’s back from the bottom of the sweater’s high collar to the top of her butt, and had a keyhole cutout at the chest that I knew she would love.

The woman I’d commissioned had done an amazing job. I’d been able to provide all the measurements she’d asked for and she had absolutely delivered on her promises of a perfect fit. 

Anet was stretched out on the couch, her knees bent over the headrest and her bate feet kicking in the air. She wasn’t looking at me, instead rubbing her face against the ends of the sweater’s long sleeves with a delighted smile.

My face relaxed slightly, my forced smile turning much more genuine. How could anyone look at her right now and not smile?

“I take it you like it?” I asked rhetorically.

“It’s so floofy!” she declared gleefully. Sitting up, she raised her arm and tilted her head so she could rub her cheek against the shoulder of the sweater. “I thought sweaters like this were supposed to be rough and scratchy, but it’s so soft! Look!”

She rolled off the couch, twisting in mid air like a cat to get her feet under her, and sprang towards me, crossing the room in two steps and as many moments. She reached out towards me and for a moment I couldn’t help but imagine her burying my face in her chest. 

Then the moment passed as she rubbed the bit of sleeve covering her wrist against my own cheek. It really was very soft, but I already knew that. I’d had a matching sweater made after all, though mine really was intended for Oslo’s frigid winters.

“Yeah, it’s really soft. I think it has something to do with the type of sheep they use and how they treat the wool. Some wool sweaters really are terrible, but it’s just like with any clothing.” I plucked at my shirt, “Not all linen is as nice as this either.”

Anet hummed thoughtfully, tilting her head to the side even as she continued to rub my cheek. From this angle, I could see cleanly down through the cutout and squeezed my eyes shut to stop myself from staring.

It was best not to temp things. Anet was comfortable with a lot of skinship, but nothing more. She and her family had made that very clear.

Once upon a time, we’d been set to be married, uniting two of Egypt’s most powerful families of magi. Once my disability had been discovered however, those plans had been quickly scrapped. 

It didn’t matter if we remained close friends, even if I knew her parents disapproved of how much time we spent together, but it could never become anything more. There was no way the Vorontsov would risk breeding such a flaw into their vaunted lineage. Even if it was just a fluke, it simply wasn’t worth the risk. Not for a cripple.

Anet knew it, I knew it, and no matter how much she might have wished otherwise, Anet was far too dutiful a daughter to betray her family like that. Maybe if she had not been the heiress, maybe if her family had driven her away, maybe if I wasn’t such a worthless failure—

Anet hugged me, wrapping her arms around my chest and resting her head against the crook of my neck. I hadn’t even felt her move, and the warmth of her body and the strength of her grip pulled me out from my spiraling thoughts. 

I breathed in deeply, the scent of honey, sweet dates, and pomegranate filling my nose and dancing across my tongue. I leaned forward, Anet’s hair tickling my nose and lips, and returned the hug.

“Sorry,” I whispered.

“It’s alright. You’re here now, and that’s alright.”

I had a feeling that we were talking about two different things, but, like Anet had said, that was alright. 

We stood there in silence for what must have been a few minutes, just basking in each other’s company. Then Anet slipped out of my arms and gracelessly plopped back down on the couch where I’d found her. 

Not wanting the conversation to return to where it had been heading before, I asked, “So how’s your family doing?” Family was another one or those topics I could always count on to distract Anet.

She gave me a knowing look, but answered anyway. “They’re good. Azadeh is finally old enough to start really learning the family magecraft, so I’ve been spending a lot of time helping her with that.” Her lips thinned. “She’s been going way too slowly. It hurts more if you do it slowly, but mom won’t let me tell her that. She says it’s something we all have to figure out for ourselves. I hate seeing her hurt herself like that. The first change is going to take her all year at this rate, maybe longer.”

I frowned as well, remembering the sorry state Anet had been in when she’d first started using her family’s magecraft. The exact process was a closely guarded secret, but it was hard to hide the side effects. Her ‘first change’, the initial step where a Vorontsov began to refine their body, had lasted for two miserable months where she could barely leave her bed and rolling over made her cry out in agony. 

I didn’t know Azadeh very well. She was more than a decade younger than Anet and had her own friends, but the idea of her spending an entire year like that was rather horrifying.

“Azadeh is strong,” I told Anet. “She’ll get through it.”

“Yeah…” Anet swallowed, then nodded jerkily. “Yeah, she will. And she’ll be stronger for it.”

“Yeah,” I echoed. I personally thought that traditions like that were part of the reason most magi were crazy, but perhaps there was a good reason for it. My family certainly had reasons for the awful ‘training’ that Dalia and I had both been subjected to. Some of them were even good reasons. 

“To be a magus is to walk with death,” I quoted the old adage softly.

Anet sighed wistfully, slowly tracing one of the veins on her palm with the tip of her finger. “Indeed.”

From there, things thankfully turned to lighter subjects. Anet told me about her mother’s recent run in with a visiting representative from the History Compilation Committee, Japan’s primary organization of magi. The man had apparently mistaken her for a servant or courtesan and had simply refused to believe her when she’d tried to correct him. Things had nearly turned violent when Anet’s father arrived on the scene, but thankfully Lord Harakty appeared in the nick of time to diffuse the situation before it could spiral into an international incident.

She also cheerfully gushed about her youngest sister, who had just turned six a few weeks ago. Aaliyah sounded like she was quickly growing into a tiny terror every bit as willful and clever as Anet had been at that age. Anet and her parents were thrilled. Their servants, less so. 

She was just starting to detail a prank that Aaliyah had pulled on her and Azadeh when the door to my rooms opened and Isi slipped inside.

Her eyes widened for a moment when she saw the two of us and she swiftly dropped to her knees. “This Isidora greets Master Keon and his guest,” she intoned. “This Isidora wishes to inform the young master that breakfast is served.”

“Good.” I turned to Anet, “Let’s go eat. I worked up an appetite.” After a moment, I noticed that Isi was still kneeling in the doorway and my gaze flicked back towards her. “You’re dismissed.”

Isi fled into her room, leaving the two of us alone. Anet watched her go, then turned back towards me, her smile sad. She stood up, normally this time, and stretched languidly, making the sweater ride up until it just barely covered her upper thighs. 

She glanced down at herself and frowned. “Am I supposed to be wearing something with this?”

I squinted at her, wondering if she could actually see the bottom of the sweater from that angle. “I think stockings are traditional, but it’s designed to look good either way.”

She twisted her head and arched her back, peeking down at her butt and shifting from foot to foot. After a moment, she shrugged. “Probably good enough.” Grinning conspiratorially, she winked at me. “It’s not like it’s the shortest thing your servants have ever seen me in, and at least this time I’m wearing panties. I’ll grab Isi and we can go eat!”

She pranced towards the door but I stopped her before she could open it. “Me and Isi aren’t really talking right now,” I warned.

“I know. Dalia told me you were both being stupid.”

I was being stupid? Isi was the one who—

No. There was no point arguing about this. I certainly wasn’t going to change her mind.

Anet waited for a moment, then tugged the door open and vanished inside. I looked at the closed door, then shrugged and took the spot on the couch that Anet had just vacated. I was honestly rather curious how this was going to go. It was probably going to be a disaster, but maybe Anet would be able to break through to Isi in a way I couldn’t.

On a hunch, I slipped my hand between the couch’s cushions and rifled around until I found the already half-eaten chocolate bar that had also been inside of Anet’s gift. I rolled my eyes and broke off a piece, popping the rich sweet into my mouth and letting it sit on my tongue. It was damn good stuff, seven-hundred kroner a bar, and I had no doubt that it would all be gone by the end of the day with or without my help. 

I leaned back, kicking my feet up on the coffee table as I slowly savored the chocolate. I closed my eyes, allowing my mind to drift. Being back here, spending time with Isi, Dalia, and Anet, seeing the familiar rooms and servants…it all took me back to simpler times. When my plans were little more than half-formed ideas and dreams and my biggest problems were hiding from my parents and the ‘homework’ my tutors assigned me. 

I remembered the day that Anet had alluded to earlier. The exact course of events was a blur, but Dalia, Anet, and I had somehow ended up falling into a fountain in one of the more distant gardens and getting soaked to the bone. Gamal, who had been watching over us that day while Isi and Meryt were busy, had tried to help us get warmed up and changed into something dry, but we’d decided to run away instead, shedding sopping wet shirts, skirts, and undergarments the whole way as we wrestled for the handful of dry things we managed to find along the way. .

By the end of it, the three of us had made it to my room with a single hand towel and a single dry sock as the only stitch of fabric between the three of us. Anet had ultimately won the fight for both and ended up fashioning a makeshift loincloth out of them.

Mother had not been too pleased when she found out what had happened. Dalia and I had been forced to explain everything to Anet’s parents––who had been far more amused then upset––and then spent two weeks on a strict diet, physical training regimen, and doubled time with our tutors. 

I sighed wistfully. I could still clearly picture the look of baffled incredulity on Isi’s face as we barged into my living room. She’d only just finished up with some lesson or other and had been in the middle of folding her freshly-laundered spare uniforms when we arrived, our hair still dripping and bodies gleaming with a mix of sweat and fountain water. 

I was torn out of my reverie by the door to Isi’s room being thrown open hard enough that it bounced off the wall and rattled in its frame. Anet strode back into the living room with Isi marching in front of her, her uniform slightly mussed and her head downcast. It took me a moment to realize that Anet was holding Isi’s arm behind her back and had her other hand on Isi’s shoulder, giving her no choice but to go where Anet went. There was also a strand of blonde hair wrapped around her neck right above her usekh, only visible because of the contrast against Isi’s dark skin. 

“Isi would love to go to breakfast with us, isn’t that right?” Anet said sweetly.

Isi said nothing and Anet rolled her eyes and swore softly in what I guessed was Russian. 

I arched an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Really,” Anet enunciated firmly. 

I had a sudden flash of premonition. If I didn’t come back to Egypt after next year, Anet was going to find me and physically drag me home kicking and screaming, even if she had to venture into the netherworld itself to retrieve me. 

I didn’t know whether to be happy I had such a loyal friend or utterly terrified. 

Isi tried to slip out of Anet’s grasp and received a none too gentle kick in the shin for her trouble. 

Both, I decided. It was definitely both. Well, I’d just best make sure I came home in one piece. I was going to do that anyway, but some added motivation was probably a good thing.