AN:

Again, it's been a while since I've updated, but this time it wasn't completely due to inactivity. I did have stuff to do, but that doesn't excuse the wait. I wanted to release this chapter, even though it's shorter than what I usually release. I've been stuck on this chapter forever. Stupid writer's block! Not to mention the complete burnout I've had regarding anything Fate-related. Hopefully this will mark the end of that.

I did begin to write a oneshot for Valentine's day about Shirou and Artoria, but I realized I started too late and I hadn't even made it halfway before it was over. I also tried writing a oneshot for April Fools, but had the same problem. I'm still going to publish them, but it will take a while since my schedule isn't as accommodating as it used to be.

Stupid responsibilities and their ability to suck my time away!

So what has happened since I last updated a story? I bought a bicycle and started biking again. Let me be honest with you here, since it's one of the few times I have contact with you. Cycling in the city is scary, but cycling in a city where you don't know the language and the locals drive like maniacs? Now that's terrifying. I love Tallinn, but Estonian drivers scare me every time I see their wheels turn. I haven't had any life-threatening accidents yet, but I'm guessing it's only a matter of time before I end up as someone's hood ornament. My skin is already a permanent part of the pavement here so not much difference there.

I also started drawing again. I even bought a graphic tablet, but I quickly realized my own skill and limitations with the visual art. It's going to take a while before I manage anything more than stick figures. My desire to draw is another reason why the update took such a long time. Drawing bad fan art of Artoria takes a lot of time, especially my bad fan art. I'm determined though so it will only be a matter of time before my DeviantArt is filled with anatomically inaccurate pictures of ArtoriaxShirou. Hahaha, fear my vengeance.

Seriously, it'll take a while.

So how has FGO NA been treating you lately? I have come to the grim realization that all my luck stayed on the JP server and refused to migrate with me to NA until this winter. I had until that point only summoned 2 SSR servants and those were Mysterious Heroine X and TamaLancer. I might be free to play, but I did save 50% of all my SQ for Mama Raikou so I was pretty sure I'd get her. Alas, my only reward for saving my quartz were 2 Lancelot and 1 Ibaraki Douji. It wouldn't have hurt as much if I hadn't used my Free SR ticket to get Heracles just a few weeks earlier. I have more berserkers than I know what to do with. Literally half of my Gold star servants were berserkers up until that point, if you count the multiple summons. The real kick in the teeth comes from the fact that the one berserker I was aiming for didn't come to me. Why, Mama Raikou? I even levelled Kintoki to max ascension as bait for you.

She did show up during the Shimosa event, but that was after quite some time and a buttload of SQ.

Pretty much the same thing happened with Brynhildr and KiyoLancer, only no dice at all. No golden yandere girls for me I'm afraid. Maybe Bryn will take pity on me when Lostbelt 2 is released.

On the other hand, I think my addiction to FGO has reached dangerous heights. I went hiking for a week in the forest, and I had to bring my Ipad with me to get the daily login. I had managed to get a nonstop login since launch until the Christmas Saint Rerun event. I tried to log in for 24 hours straight, but didn't even manage to reach the news screen. Imagine having a perfect record, and then you lose it because of the app's fault.

Oh well, I won't bore you with my woes any further. This is taking too much text for a normal AU so have fun with the next chapter…

BTW, AOB isn't dead either. It's just taking a nap. A long one with no alarm set. I'm also going to release the April's fools and Valentine one-shots at some point, but I'm not sure when.

WPG

The sound of screeching metal invaded his ears the moment he pulled the door open. The rusty hinges, weakened after a century of being exposed to the elements, disintegrated as the heavy metal slab swung open. With enough force to crush the wooden steps leading up to the entrance, it crashed onto the ground Shirou had been standing on seconds earlier.

He had reacted out of instinct. His legs had moved before he realized it and he landed awkwardly on his back. If he hadn't jumped back the instant he heard the hinges protest he would have been crushed under the abnormally heavy door for a shed. His back would probably be covered in bruises from the stones and roots in the morning, but a bruised back was better than a crushed skull.

He should have been prepared for anything, and yet he had not expected the shed itself to be a danger to him. Bounded fields were one thing, but a collapsing house had never popped up as a potential hazard. It would henceforth be added to the list of dangerous things a magus could encounter, along with anvils in handbags and flying frying pans. In hindsight, the structural integrity of a building would naturally decline over the years and a century was more than enough time to wear down a small shed in the middle of the woods without any maintenance. He should have expected the hinges to be… practically non-existent.

Once his heart stopped trying to beat its way up his throat, he walked over the door and climbed his way back up to the entrance. The wooden stairs had shattered under the heavy metal, but it wasn't hard to climb up. The lack of a lockable door worried him far more than the steps did. The noise had probably woken up the entire forest. He hoped it would ward off any wild animals, but he had no idea if boars and bears would leave it alone. Territorial animals might investigate the source of the sound and he didn't want to be here if a curious boar showed up.

He strapped the survival knife to his belt and pulled the flashlight from his bag. The moonlight had been enough to illuminate the path to the shed, but the small hole in the roof wasn't enough to shed light on what was inside. Though the wooden building was rather small, it was still large enough to hide most of its contents in darkness.

His flashlight, bought at a convenience store and powered by two AA batteries, illuminated only the immediate vicinity. It left the majority of the workshop in darkness, but it was enough for his purposes. Had the shed been any larger it would have been a problem, given his lack of light and familiarity. At the moment though, Shirou's small emergency flashlight was enough.

The weak light shone over the desks and shelves of the workshop. Rows upon rows of books, textbooks and small notebooks alike, filled the shelves. Zachary must have been here a long time for his collection to be that extensive. He wouldn't be able to read this much in a year and still understand everything, even if he rushed. Feeling excitement boil in his blood, he took a closer look. The titles and sizes varied, and Shirou couldn't see the connection between them. Some were clearly about alchemy, such as "Homunculus; a definitive review of the Einzbern method", while others dealt more in curses, formalcraft and… eroticism?

Not all books were for research, it seemed.

Picking a book about Mystic Codes off the shelf, he opened it up to read the foreword… only for the book to disintegrate into wet fragments in his hands. He barely had time to blink before all he held were the binding and a pulpy sludge. The sounds of wet paper hitting the ground could be heard in the clearing outside the workshop, but Shirou didn't notice. All he did was stare at the ruined source of knowledge he had been so eager to find. His excitement died a quick, but not painless death before it was replaced by sheer terror.

The elements had not been kind to the last legacy of Zachary Ainsworth.

A hundred years had passed since the books had been brought here. Some of the books he was looking at were probably far older than that, given their nature. If the shed itself was in danger of collapse, what did that mean for the fragile tomes within? How much of the Ainsworth "library" could be salvaged from a wet and cold demise? A pool of cold disappointment started to settle in his gut.

Tonight wouldn't be as exciting as he had hoped.

WPG

Jeremiah Wilkins looked out at the city he'd just arrived at, sipping the whiskey in his hand. The view wasn't bad, but it most certainly didn't please him. Japan had not been his first choice of destination in terms of exile, but it most certainly wasn't his last. Although filled with bloodlines of interesting origins, Japan's culture itself did its best to imitate western tastes. It was a step up from his earlier travels after he left London. It did, however, make him realise the difference in culture all the same, especially when comparing the resources he had back at Clock Tower.

The room he was in was the prime example of that. Dusty and humid, it positively reeked of mould. Back in London, he had access to the finest of laboratories and equipment. His experiments were only limited by his own intellect, as it proved he was head and shoulders above his peers. He should've been making waves at the Clock Tower, not washing his hands every two minutes from the dust and rat piss he kept smelling.

It was all that woman's fault. If she had just accepted his offer, they would've both been satisfied. Instead, now he was hiding in some backwater country while her fiancé paid the price for her refusal. She had the gall to choose his cousin over him. Fools, the lot of them! Now they were all dissatisfied, due to some idiot teen's choice in marriage. So what if he was twice her age? Their bloodlines were perfect! Not to mention the similarities in their magecraft!

He gulped down the alcohol, relishing the burn in his throat. At least the whiskey was still the same, regardless of where he bought it. He was loath to buy the cheaper label, but the effect it had was worth it in the end. That said, he didn't have much choice in the matter. As a fugitive, his status was not the most prestigious at the moment. He had heard of enforcers having to "rough it out" during assignments, so if those barbarians could spend a few months in Africa and Asia, then he could obviously do the same. He may not have the prestigious linage of Barthomelloi, but he did take pride in his admittedly humble bloodline.

True, the Wilkins family was a rather young line of Alchemists, but it was a successful one. Jeremiah should've been their latest prodigy, but circumstances and foul play had put a few spokes in his wheels.

"Master, we have finished unpacking the equipment," a pale homunculus said as it entered the room. He spared her a glance, critical of what he saw. Even gifted as he was, he never stopped improving himself. It was why he became the genius he was today. He never stopped seeing flaws in his own work, imperfections he could improve. While the Einzberns were obsessed with their little ritual and stopped perfecting the craft centuries ago, Jeremiah would no doubt surpass them given time. His latest experiment would prove his superiority in that regard. He was only hindered by his resources now, something the Einzbern never had to work with.

"Good, and the preparations?"

"We have begun production, but we are short on organic materials. The black market dealers are a little wary of working with a magus so recently affiliated with the Clock Tower."

So useless, every single one of them. No matter how much he improved every generation, they were all so useless when it came down to it.

"Then find some random drunk and kill them. There's no need to be picky." Honestly, did he have to do everything around here?

"Very well, sir, we will search for drunk people to harvest," the monotone homunculus responded.

Good, now if only he could relieve some of this tension he had accumulated…

"Actually, scratch that last order. Make one of them a female, and a young one at that."

Hopefully she would look like the little runt who rejected him. He had come up with plenty of ways to punish her. Someone would pay for his exile.

WPG

One week later...

The sound of a hammer striking nails echoed throughout the clearing. Each strike drove the galvanized iron into the wooden frame. Rough, untreated wood creaked as the hammer pounded the cheap nails into the equally cheap pine.

Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Shirou stood back up to check his latest work. It was a large wooden door, made from planks he'd bought at a local lumber yard. He'd seen the design in some old movies and copied it from memory. To be honest, it was ugly, crooked, and wouldn't hold up very well against even a little pressure. Which was okay with him, considering he wasn't interested in how well it would hold up in the long run.

Lifting the relatively light door, he aligned it so the hinges he had just finished nailing onto the door would set into the other pair of hinges he had already attached to the wall. With one final shove, the steel pins fell into the slots. The door, and by extension the shed, was finally complete.

When Shirou had gone to the workshop of Zachary Ainsworth a week ago, he had not expected that he'd be spending the next few days patching up the old decrepit building. As it turned out, most of the books were in such bad shape he wouldn't be able to move them in their current state. Soaked and mouldy, if he tried to pack them up in his bag and tried to ride his bicycle home, they'd turn to mush before he got out of the forest. Considering he still had to walk his bicycle home due to the broken chain, there was no way the books would survive the trip.

So if the books were in a state where they couldn't be moved, he'd just have to fix them back up.

That was easier said than done.

Before he could even try to dry the books, the reason of the water got in had to be removed. Of course, the reason being that the entire shack was falling apart. The door aside, the roof had a huge hole in it and the windows, small as they were, were completely shattered. Rain and snow had no problem getting in. Even if he started drying the books, the moisture would simply ruin them again. He would have to fix that part first.

All he had planned to do was patch the holes up until he could fix the books. Completely renovating an old shed in the middle of the forest all by himself would've been impossible. He didn't have the tools, resources or experience required to do that. Even if he did, what was the point on completely restoring a century-old shed in the middle of the forest if he was only going to use it to restore a bunch of notebooks that he would eventually bring back to his house? Zachary had even instructed him to burn down the shed once he was finished with the books to erase any possible traces that could lead back to him.

Hence why he was out in the forest with a bunch of planks, nails, and hand tools fixing up a wooden shed he'd be setting fire to in a couple of weeks. It wasn't what he had expected he'd be doing, but at least he wasn't activating his circuits again. He could go a lifetime without remembering that taste.

Closing the door he had just finished, he inspected the gaps in the frame. There were small gaps here and there, something he had expected from the start. He was no carpenter, despite his history of helping his neighbours and friends. The door was only meant to keep the rain and snow out. Small imperfections were fine, as long as it didn't collapse in the middle of a storm. The spray foam he'd bought would cover any openings.

Putting his tools away, he began reached for one of the few still readable books on the shelf. As much as he wanted to learn more about other types of magecraft, he had already decided to take things slow. Which was why he was reading about Reinforcement of all things, the one piece of magecraft he'd already known about since Kiritsugu died. Aside from a few times he'd analysed the school heaters, he hadn't actually used magecraft that much since activating his circuits. Partly because he wanted to give the circuits time to settle before he taxed them, but the real reason was because he hadn't wanted to try anything too big out before he could read the theories behind it first. The introduction had after all been just that; an introduction. Crippling himself right after finally reaching the starting line would be a fine way to become a magus.

Flipping open the book and finding his bookmark, he grimaced at the smudgy ink and ripped pages. Despite his best efforts, the inevitable truth was he had been at least thirty years too late to save some books. Even the ones in good condition required some restoration in the form of a hair dryer. A century of exposure to the elements was bad enough, but add mould and rats eager for the leather binding and even the sturdiest book wouldn't emerge unscathed. It also didn't help that Zachary Ainsworth was a very good writer.

Shirou's English skills weren't the best, but Zachary's outdated English, confusing cursive, and subpar grammar made reading everything a challenge. He had already developed a habit of writing down what he wrote on a separate notebook to review everything later. He doubted he'd understand everything even with a dictionary, something he had tried to accept from the start. It didn't stop the frustration from building each time he encountered a word he wasn't sure was misspelt or unintended.

Scribbling down notes, he spent a little more than an hour dissecting the chapter on Reinforcement. As much as he wanted to breeze through it, he hadn't succeeded in using reinforcement since Kiritsugu died. Even if he possessed actual circuits now, he wasn't sure if his method in using them was correct either.

So engrossed in note-taking was he, the alarm clock he brought with him went off before he actually attempted the actual spell. Fumbling with the old clock, he finally managed to turn it off. He might be in the forest, but that didn't guarantee someone might've heard the loud ringing. He probably should've brought something a little less noticeable if he wanted the shed to stay hidden.

It did serve its purpose in the end. He did have some time left before he had to head home, time dedicated for experimenting.

He was going to try Reinforcement.

Normally he would use junk in his "workshop", but he had decided on using a specific item before he came here. Considering it was the first time he was confident that it would work, he wanted it to be something special, something he could easily remember.

The old bow he'd kept from his early days in the archery club. It was his first bow and an obvious hand-me-down at that. The archery club had decided to get rid the old bows to avoid possible injuries, and the one sitting just a few meters from him was one of those selected for destruction. The bow itself wasn't actually that bad. The scratches and blemishes were on the surface only, but it wasn't obvious unless one used structural analysis.

Reaching for the asymmetrical bow, he activated his magic circuits.

"Trace on."

He really hoped it would work.