Mary… was not happy. She had a growing scowl on her face as Ritsuka explained his situation, about how they were leaving and not returning.
Ritsuka felt a maelstrom of emotions, switching between guilt and gladness. On one hand, Mary clearly expected more from this arrangement; she saw him as a member of the upper class, potentially able to grant her family favors in the future. That motive was understandable, applaudable even. Ritsuka would do the same thing. But at the same time, being used like this made the help less genuine.
At the end, Ritsuka decided to bow so low his body formed a right angle, "I thank you, Mary, for offering us to stay here for the two weeks we were here."
Mary copied him
Mary looked like she wanted to shoo Ritsuka away, to not waste her time anymore. Still, she kept up the appearance of civility, and a smile appeared on her face. The smile didn't reach her eyes.
"You're welcome, Ritsuka. I just hope you won't forget about us in the future, will you?"
"Never. I will always remember your kindness."
After saying his goodbyes, Ritsuka left, walking through the narrow passage between all the boxes that were stacked in front of Mary's home. It took some care, avoiding sharp ends of broken wood.
Exiting out of that small maze, Ritsuka felt a weight had been lifted off his chest. He turned around at the home and saw several of Mary's kids watching him— Wylla, Tommy, Gena.
Ritsuka waved them goodbye. Despite how horrible his experience here in London was, interacting with Mary's family was always a joy on an otherwise bland day, a spot of color upon a grey canvas.
"Why?"
Hearing William's voice, Ritsuka's head turned to face it, finding the young boy beside him. One of his hands touched a stack of boxes, making Ritsuka think he hid in there right before revealing himself.
The boy was crying. His face was red, weeping tears making trails down his face. Such a sight caused Ritsuka's heart to tangle up into a knot. The teen knows it's time to go, yet seeing William so heartbroken tugs at his feet like binding chains, asking him to stay.
"William…"
"You promised. You promised you'd stay with me." He muttered between hiccups. Slowly, the boy moved towards Ritsuka, inching closer by the second.
Ritsuka frowned. "I promised I'll be your friend—"
"Friends don't just leave each other! Friends stay with each other! Friends do everything together!"
Ritsuka brought up his hands in a placating gesture, trying to contain William's outburst as he looked around. Thankfully, no one else was looking at them.
"William, I can't just… stay with you forever. That was never in the cards—"
"Well, it is for me! Ma promised me she'd return before leaving, but she didn't! Will you do the same? Will you never return as well? Will you abandon me like Ma?"
That breached into the realm of entitlement, the teen started to move around the boy. "William, I am my own person. I don't just revolve around you. The world doesn't revolve around you. I am not your mother. I am your friend, and sometimes, friends drift away—"
"No! Don't leave!" William sprang forth like a missile, crashing into Ritsuka's form. Had he been any bigger, Ritsuka figured he'd have trouble staying upright. "Don't leave me! Please don't leave me alone! You're the only one who's nice to me after Ma left. Please don't!"
"William…" Ritsuka held onto William's shoulders, the boy's purple eyes stared into Ritsuka's own, "William, I have to go—"
"Do you want something? I can— I don't have my fairy tale book anymore, but I can go down into the sewers and check! I can… I can… I can work! I can give you all the money I earned! I can… I can… I'll do anything! Just please— stay!"
Ritsuka shut his eyes, trying to think of a way to resolve this. Perhaps it would have been best if he had never returned, but that would only have exacerbated William's fear of abandonment.
Abandonment… ah, that must be what William feared the most. Abandonment, the same kind of abandonment his mother did after going and dying in the Congo. William fears a repeat of that. He doesn't want to be abandoned.
Ritsuka remembered what Kuku had said about the people of a Singularity, about how everything is wiped away, all memories of the Singularity's occurrence gone as the World corrected itself. No one will remember what happened, save for those in Chaldea.
Then his relationship with William is pointless. It was never meant to last. He will never remember. History will return to what it once was. There's no consequence…
In a passive, almost casual tone that's the opposite of the distraught of William's, Ritsuka said, "William. Go away. I won't be returning."
William looked up and saw a face of indifference staring back at him. There was finality in that indifference, that no matter how much William pleaded and begged, nothing was going to change Ritsuka's mind. Yet, the boy still held onto that hope— that last shred of hope for a different result, of Ritsuka staying with him.
Never did the boy know how quickly the joy he found would end. Never did he realize how fleeting this was. William assumed it would stay like this forever, with Ritsuka next to him as the days went by.
Seeing how downtrodden William looked, Ritsuka had to look away. The Last Master of Mankind walked away, set to fulfill his duty.
Ritsuka heard William's cries long after the darkness made him imperceptible to his eyes.
It's time for this Singularity to end.
_____
Next Day
"I should probably tell my supervisor about my absence. If nothing else, I should tell Jordan how I'll no longer come back to work." Ritsuka said. He glanced at the slum around him; dirt and grime covered all the buildings like a coat of paint, broken windows and broken men aplenty on the side of the road.
If it weren't for Kuku accompanying him and Artoria, Ritsuka would've vehemently denied ever coming here.
Kuku sighed. "If you want to, we can later after we get Iskander."
As the trio strode deeper into the pit of poverty deeper than even what Mary was experiencing, Ritsuka couldn't help but think of that island they found Drake on. He glanced at the broken men who lazed out, some sitting on the streets while others leaned on the walls. It was so easy to reimagine them as members of Drake's crew, if only dirtier and smelling even worse.
Iskander still kept in contact with Artoria after the two separated and went their own ways. On his last visit, he said he's conducting a recruitment drive in Whitechapel, one of the poorest regions in London.
Ritsuka saw the edge of a crowd of people sooner than he heard a familiar voice.
"—do you not see! Look at how high and mighty they are! Why should you suffer? Do you not see the imbalance?"
Iskander's loud and boisterous voice was like the tolling of a nearby bell— impossible to ignore. When hearing Iskander's powerful voice, one couldn't help but focus one's full attention on the man. In turn, the conqueror easily basked in the spotlight like it was his natural environment. The King of Conqueror didn't need to stand atop a makeshift podium: his very height was enough for everyone in the crowd to see him.
Looking at the scene, and how easily Iskander captured the audience's attention, almost controlling them like a puppet using words rather than strings. Ritsuka could easily see how he led a conquest of the known world. How easily he'll gain the love and loyalty of his generals.
Iskander's gaze swiped across the crowd, hundreds strong, never staying still for too long. He made sure everyone present knows he's watching, noticing them unlike the ignorant upper class the conqueror is decrying.
The King of Conquerors riled up the crowd in almost a frenzy, like the lid over a pot of boiling water about to burst open. Iskander then defused the situation, turning their hatred into a desire to join him.
"—So what say you?! Will you suffer as you have now, looking on at the riches of those who were born into it?"
""NO!""
"I promise you all that one day a reckoning will come, where the blind lords that rule over you will be thrown down from their ivory towers and you all shall seize the wealth that you make! No longer! No longer shall your work feed those above you! That I promise you!"
The crowd screamed. Iskander ended his speech, dismissing the crowd with a simple gesture— a wave of his hands. That was how much influence he held.
"Ritsuka!" The giant smiled as he approached. The group stood inside an alleyway as Iskander's men kept the crowd away, giving them privacy. "It's good to see you. How have you been?"
Iskander placed a hand over Ritsuka's shoulder. Even through the clothing, the teen could feel the firmness of his calloused hands, a firmness that showed how Iskander wasn't the type of leader who'd stay behind and let his men die for him but rather the type who'd be the first into a battle and the last out of it.
"I'm fine. Thanks for asking, Iskander. That speech, what's it all about? Why are you riling up the masses against the upper class?"
Iskander grinned. "Like Artoria, I've also lost my strength, but not my charisma. When I heard her suspicion that the Holy Grail is in Buckingham Palace, I knew we'd need an army. And so, I am raising one right here."
Iskander gestured at the crowd.
"I took over the largest gang and began taking the role of the government. My men police the streets at night, punish criminals, and organize food kitchens. They're nothing like the men who helped me conquer the known world, but a city? Certainly."
Iskander crossed his arms, his eyes shining with pride. Conversely, Ritsuka looked conflicted.
"I… this feels wrong, Iskander."
The King of Conquerors raised an eyebrow, his eyes staring into those of his Master as if daring him to continue.
Memories of him staying with Mary echoed inside Ritsuka's mind. The teen found his footing and stood up to Iskander's challenge.
"It's wrong, Iskander."
"Ritsuka, though I wasn't there for the Roman Singularity, I hear you didn't complain when those Roman soldiers' lives were spent. How many do you think died marching to Constantinople? How many died in the sacking?"
"I— that's different! Those are soldiers, Iskander. These people you're recruiting? They're all civilians."
Iskander's arms left their crossed posture. One hand reached up to his chin. "Ritsuka, have I ever told you about my siege of Gaza?"
Ritsuka shook his head. "No, you only said how that siege happened after your legendary conquest of Tyre. But what does this have to do with anything?
"Everything, my Master." Iskander said, "Gaza was a city in Persian Egypt. At first, it appeared to be an unremarkable conquest, even if it took my army three tries to storm their walls. After entering the city, the Gazans fought bitterly, bleeding us for every house taken and street conquered. The desire to protect one's home is as human as hunger, Ritsuka. Soldier, civilian, mercenary, man, woman, or child: it didn't matter. All were soldiers in defense of their home from me."
Ah, Ritsuka wanted to slap himself for forgetting something this important: Iskander is someone from 2000 years ago. His sensibilities are very different from his own.
Iskander's arms are spread out, his head looking up and his eyes giving a sideways glance at the crowd behind him, at the mouth of this alleyway. "These men and women of London, even if their spirits are crushed and beaten by the repetitive machine of industrialization, the embers still exist. I will fan it into a roaring bonfire of revolution. I will direct their hatred towards the upper class. They will lay siege to all symbols of the aristocracy. And in the chaos of this revolt, we can head into Buckingham Palace and acquire the Grail."
Hearing what Iskander said, Ritsuka couldn't help but feel fear. He recalled the siege of Constantinople, the scent of burnt fat, the destruction— and most of all the rape—
"No," Ritsuka stated firmly. By god, he has never been so firm about anything else in his life, "We are not inciting a revolt."
Iskander looked disappointed. "Ritsuka, how else will we get the Grail? This restriction is clearly affecting the self-proclaimed Goddess as well—"
Kuku interrupted, "I am wary. I've dealt with these reality warpers before, and I'm waiting for any potential traps these reality warpers could have hidden."
"Artoria, there has to be a different way—"
"There is," Artoria said.
Ritsuka let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in. Relief washes over his frame, allowing him to relax.
"Queen Victoria is holding a banquet in two day's time. A banquet at Buckingham Palace. She was supposed to make her first appearance in months, to reassure the London elites after the latest disaster. You can use this method to see where the heaviest security is"
Iskander crossed his arms once more. "And how are we supposed to get in?"
"That fashion designer I'm working with is invited to work on the dress the Queen would wear. Because of this, he's allowed to bring a plus one."
"Just one?" Mash said.
"I can ask other noblemen and women. Ritsuka, Kuku, Mash, and Iskander, you all may need to engage in courtship with your chosen partner for the night."
Iskander waved her off, "Bah, I'll continue fanning the flames. If you succeed in getting the Holy Grail, then all my effort would be for naught. And you will have nothing to worry about. If not, it can serve as a backup plan."
Ritsuka was reluctant, but seeing how no one spoke up in rejection of that plan, the teen decided to let it go. Iskander can have his try at conquest. It wouldn't matter since the Singularity would end before his 'flame' reached the stage of an inferno.
With that done, the group parted ways once more, Iskander returning to his gang. Ritsuka followed Artoria into the richer portions of London.
He felt horribly out of place. It was such a drastic contrast from his first day here that the teen had feelings of deja vu. Has these days in London really affected him so much? Crushing his self-worth to such a degree that he feels more comfortable with the dirt of the slums than the pristine shopping street.
"His name is Charles Frederick Worth." Artoria said, "He found me as I tried searching for you. Supposedly, he found the perfect model in me and decided to jump off his moving carriage to offer me a job."
Ritsuka looked above the roofs of these shops, at the cloudy sky above. He found only an inkling presence of the distant industrial district in the shape of smoke rising out of chimneys. This was a slice of sterile heaven, a place for only the elites of society as everyone else is pushed away.
Artoria stopped by a shop even fancier than the others. Golden trims lined up the building, ornate fetishes lined the walls, and the clear windows displayed extremely extravagant dresses. Above it all stood the words: House of Worth.
"He is… eccentric," Artoria said as the group entered the shop.
Dresses of all kinds, shapes, and colors filled Ritsuka's vision. Dresses with feathers in them lined a portion of the wall. Dresses with a touch of the East lined the other. And dresses that were so exotic that Ritsuka found himself embarrassed just looking at it lined the rest.
It would be almost overwhelming if Ritsuka hadn't seen a fashion show before joining Chaldea.
"Artoria!"
A man emerged from the abyss of clothing. He wore clothing that reminded Ritsuka of something from a Renaissance fair in America: strips of gold and red, with frilled collars around the hands and neck. A mustache covered the space between his nose and lips. It was completely different from how the other aristocrats dressed.
"Mr. Worth."
The man wilted, "Ah, what did I say about formality? Of all my workers, only you alone still call me Mr. Worth. Please, the Mister is for strangers. Are we still strangers, Artoria?"
"We are acquaintances, Mr. Worth."
Worth's eyes gleamed, and his lips thinned in frustration. The man's eyes then moved over to the others that Artoria had brought. "So who are these? Your friends?"
"Yes. This is Ritsuka Fujimaru, Mash Kyrielight, and Kukulkan."
That appeared to stump Worth. He looked thoughtful, "Never took you for the progressive type. Most of the Blue Bloods think very little of orientals ever since the Opium Wars. Such a drastic shift… Anyway, so how did you all meet?"
Worth leaned forward like an eager child. His eyes gleaming with curiosity.
Eccentric indeed.
Artoria began, "I already told you—"
"No, I want to hear from your friends." Worth interrupted.
Ritsuka glanced at Artoria, and she glanced back. The teen felt his mouth become extremely dry as he tried to think of the backstory that Artoria might've told Worth.
"I met Artoria when I was traveling across the world," Ritsuka said.
"Details, young man. Give me all the juicy details!" Worth clapped his hands.
A maid came out from the depths of the store. She was dressed just as weirdly as Worth, with spikes placed upon her headdress and collar, giving her the appearance of a shark. Her hands held a tray upon which sat a teapot and small drinking cups.
"Thank you, Ellen."
Worth helped himself to the tea, pouring and filling all the cups present. He gestured at the tray, "Here, have some tea."
"Thank you, Mr. Worth."
"Ah, not you too! Call me Charles. Any friend of Artoria is a friend of mine!"
It felt a bit strange, being treated so nicely by a member of what's undoubtedly the upper class. In all of the teens' experiences, only the lower class treated him well. A portion of Ritsuka's mind replied that it was due to the lower class being too busy working to death to worry about something as trivial as skin color.
"Mr. Worth, I'd like to ask you a favor," Artoria said.
Charles's eyes soften. "Artoria, you're my best model for clothing. Ask me anything."
"I would like my friends to be invited to the banquet held by the Queen in two days' time."
Charles recoiled backward as if stabbed. Clutching his chest, the man looked sad. "You… truly go for the throat, huh? But I will keep my promise under two conditions."
Artoria's eyes narrowed in exasperation. "Name them."
"It's nothing too serious, just that you must call me Charles from now on, and you all agree how I get you into the banquet. I will say it'll be difficult mainly for Ritz-su-ka. But I'm sure I could find a lonely woman in need of the touch of an exotic."
"Wait," Mash spoke up, "You don't mean…"
Charles nodded, "Indeed. To get into the banquet, I'll need to pair you up with other invitees. Second or third sons and daughters or widows of the aristocracy."