Chapter 7: Path Forward

As soon as Shirou's hand landed on the blade in front of him he felt an almost imperceptible tingle run up his hand. It was a fleeting sensation, and something that he couldn't quite recreate in his mind after it was gone. The transient nature of that sensation aside though he was much more aware of the fact that as soon as he picked up the blade in front of him he suddenly seemed to feel it in a way he hadn't moments ago. 

He had seen the blade on the wall as soon as he walked in the armory, one of hundreds of others like it. The steel itself wasn't anything that impressive, looking every bit like the other slender longswords on the wall. Shirou in fact hadn't actually grabbed this one in particular for any real reason other than it being the closest one his hand brushed over. 

But now that he was holding it in his hands Shirou felt so much more from the blade. He could feel its exact length, down even to the millimeter as he brandished it. He could tell the exact center of mass of it and felt how the cutting edge aligned with his grip as he subtly adjusted it. Beyond such simple things though was even a sense of how best to hold the blade and where in its construction faults laid. He felt his body slide into a rather simple yet well practiced stance as he held the blade forward. He knew that it had an inclusion fault half way through the fuller that could make it shatter if used to block there too much.

None of the information which seemed to slide effortlessly into Shirou's mind was something mystic or impossible to learn, but it was all the kind of thing that should only have been known to someone who had used that blade and fought with it rigorously for years. 

With a bit of curiosity and suspicion in mind Shirou sat the blade back down on the rack and then walked across the room to a set of entirely different weapons. The rack was filled with huge scimitars, each one weighing several kilograms. They certainly seemed like the type of weapon that was ill suited to have ever been wielded by Ozen and would be a good chance to rule out Shirou's vessel's lingering instinct as the source of that knowledge.

Just like the longsword though the same faint tingle went up Shirou's arm as he grabbed the blade, along with the same effortless supply of knowledge filling him. His stance adjusted to better hold the weapon, even as he realized that the hilt of the weapon hid a flaw in its tang. These weapons seemed only passable and were likely meant to be used by the rank and file soldiers, a fact made more evident by the faint imprints on the blade that signaled it was mass produced rather than hand forged. 

As Shirou felt this understanding fill his mind he realized that whatever was happening to him wasn't caused by his vessel. It had to have been something related to himself and his own soul. If he had to guess it seemed closely tied to his [Scion of Steel] attribute, which he had at first believed simply improved the instinctive abilities of his vessel somewhat. Now though it seemed that it was able to grant him insight into any weapon he touched. 

Not to mention the strange tingle he first got when he touched a new weapon. It wasn't something concrete yet but Shirou had the faintest compulsion to touch as many of the blades in front of him as he could. And since there really wasn't any reason not to, he gave into that instinct and walked along the armory wall, letting his hand brush across the hilts of everything he passed. Each time he felt the same tingle up his arm, somehow not a physical sensation despite being real all the same. And each time he did his mind was filled with information, growing sharper and sharper as he progressed. 

By the time Shirou had walked the whole of the armory he had laid hands on hundreds of weapons. By the time he reached the end his mind was beginning to offer information about the very material composition of the weapons themselves, all the way down to the atomic level. It was somewhat hard to make too much use of since the weight of information was growing each time but despite what should have been a debilitating amount of data Shirou's mind seemed to absorb it and assimilate it rather easily. 

He had made his way through the full arsenal of weapons on display, ranging from swords and axes, all the way to strange high tech crossbows with draw weights that felt like they were hundreds of kilograms. Part of his interest in touching them all had been chasing after the now pleasant sensation that came from picking each one up for the first time, but the other part had been a genuine interest in finding new weapons that would best suit him for whatever trials he would face next in this nightmare. 

Shirou ended up settling on some choices that seemed rather odd to him in the end. He had expected that he would stick with a single longsword and end things at that. And yet even after finding a longsword that suited his tastes and had some better than average quality, his eyes were still drawn to another set of weapons. The first had been a pair of smaller scimitars that were suitable for being held in each hand. Shirou didn't find much unusual information when he picked them up and they seemed rather simple, but despite that fact when he held them in both hands, something about it felt hauntingly familiar. Seeing that he had been given carte blanche to take weapons, and considering their light weight, he slung them and their sheathes onto his waist without much more thought.

The truly strange final discovery though was when he laid his hands on one of the very few traditional bows on the wall. It was an odd enough sight to see crossbows at all on display aboard a massive mobile land battleship to begin with but Shirou didn't question that fact too much. He wouldn't doubt their ability given the draw on the weapons and the heft of their bolts in his hand though. 

If the crossbows were an odd sight though the scant half dozen bows on the back wall were even stranger. They were massive things, standing as tall as he was and built out of a veritable laundry list of advanced polymers and materials, at least based on what Shirou felt when he picked one up. In a rather odd twist, the long bows actually had an even higher draw weight than the crossbows did, a fact proven when Shirou put his fingers on the metallic cable of the string and had to strain himself to even pull it back. It almost seemed like the limbs of the bow wouldn't move an inch, but as he poured strength into them they yielded and began to bend. 

"You'll be needing some better gloves if you're planning to use a siege bow like that boy." The gruff voice of the quartermaster sounded from behind Shirou. He had been so engrossed in the bow and feeling its shape that her approach startled him enough to release the slightly drawn string. Even pulled back only a few inches, the released bow let off a whip crack as it snapped back into shape. The old woman cast another glance at the scrape left on his arm from the string. "Hmmm, need some better arm guards too. C'mon then Oz lets get you equipped and out of here."

The pair walked back to the entrance of the armory and to a counter at the front with a pile of materials on it. There was a bit of paperwork and a monitor to the side, seemingly some way to track inventory, but when Shirou reached for the paperwork to fill it out a firm had swatted him away. "Don't fret yourself with that kid. Ancestors know you work too hard, I can do a bit of paperwork for you lad. Now here are some gauntlets for the bow, and a duffel bag of harpoon arrows for it. Get yourself saddled up quick while I fill this out for you, don't want to miss your meeting do ya?"

Shirou's eyes widened at the mention of that and he looked up at the clock, seeing he had spent almost the full hour already just wandering and handling weapons. He grabbed the goods on the table and was quick to fasten the various assorted slings and straps over himself. It did end up making his mantle less free flowing, but that was made up for by becoming a veritable walking armory with two blades on the waist, a siege bow on his back, and a longsword across from it, all strapped over a midnight black cloak.

Despite the intimidating aura the young man beneath still looked gentle as a kitten to the woman watching him, mostly due to the way he was frantically rushing to get dressed before he bowed and thanked her. "Thank you very much for the assistance Ma'am. I'm sorry to have gotten distracted like that. I appreciate the help with the armor and the paperwork!"

His thanks trailed off as he ran out of the armory and left the old feline to finish logging everything, a wistful smile on her face at the sight of someone still so full of life despite the state of the world. 

***

The Light of Lugalszargus was at one time the pride and joy of the Sargonian Military and meant to signal a new era of prosperity and strength for the nation. As a whole Sargon had never been quick to adopt the technologies of other nations. In the old annals of history Sargon had been a mighty nation that stood at the forefront of learning and science in terra. As evidence of this fact the very calendar used across terra was created and forced upon the world by a Sargonian, the legendary Lugalszargus the 'Shah of Past and Future'. 

But that was a legacy more than a thousand years old. Due to a series of tragedies following the death of the great Lugalszargus the nation was endlessly stymied in a series of succession wars and local disputes between various Padishahs and Lord Ameers. The central government once established by Lugalszargus still roughly held things together but it was at best a facade of a nation draped over countless tribes squabbling and bickering over the remnants of a glorious past. That also wasn't to say that the central government of the modern epoch was worth any praise, more often than not their actions were built around using the treasures of the past as currency for passion projects that did little to improve Sargon as a whole.

The Light of Lugalszargus was a rather unfortunate mirror for what Sargon had become. It was an impressive and imposing landship worthy of standing next to its Victorian, Ursine, Leithanian, and Gaulish contemporaries from the same era. In fact it could even be argued that it was superior in some ways given that its collaborative and outsourced construction included features from each of those nations. 

That was decades ago though, and while other nations continued to advance and improve, Sargon had constructed these vessels at the behest of the central government, only to use them to put down internal rebellions. Worse, the reliance on foreign nations to develop the ships prevented any new industries or experts from blooming in Sargon herself and left the nation reliant on outsiders. 

Time marched on as it always did, and despite throwing fortunes vast enough to blanket a city in gold, Sargon was left with a pitiful fleet of ships nearly a century old. As a testament to the age of the ships, one of the four nations who contributed parts to them no longer existed on the face of Terra. All that was left was five vessels that had spent more time as decorations than warships, and whose maintenance fell off more and more each year. 

The remaining external beauty of the landships was simply a consequence of sandstorms keeping rust stripped off the outer hulls, and a lack of water to corrode what was exposed. That coupled with the fact that the ships were so expensive to operate that they hadn't seen real combat since they were commissioned lead to the appearance of beauty and strength where there was none. When anyone looked at the ships more deeply they would find aged and outdated hulks that were being held together by jury rigged repairs and outdated parts.

As Nishka looked out the command deck of the Light she mused on the fact that she was actually rather lucky that the ships were in the state they were. If they were more impressive, and actually well maintained then they would have been operated by the central government instead of being parked at Menat-Ha'mait as almost decorative shows of force. 

Despite being lucky enough to get her hands on them to spearhead her people's migration, it didn't change the fact that their age was an issue. Yet another one to add on top of all the other problems mounting before her. "I understand what you're saying William, but please let it wait until the meeting starts. I know fuel and supplies are running low but we have a number of factors to consider."

As soon as the caravan had reached the relative safety of the Hasheem Valley the captains of each landship made their way to Nishka's flagship. Some naturally arrived earlier than others and one in particular also happened to be more than willing to air his grievances to his Padishah before the rest arrived. William was a gruff looking Feline with a broad and stocky build, looking every bit like the stereotypical mechanic he was. He was one of the few foreigners present in the caravan, being a victoria mechanic contracted to help get the warships moving and ready to ferry citizens and soldiers out of Menat-Ha'mait when the collapse began. 

One of the irritating side effects of that fact was that the man didn't have any cultural deference to Nishka's position, and instead spoke to her like any overworked factory worker might talk to a boss who knows they can't be fired. "Bah, fine then lass. But soon as the rest of the folk get here I'll be shouting all the same. I know you Sargonians are used to slinging gold at things that upset you but that trick doesn't work these days.

Nishka could only respond to the words with a measured breath and a sigh of relief. She honestly didn't care that much about respect sent her way, so long as her people were able to survive she frankly didn't care about how people saw her. In the long run it might have chafed her retainers to see her treated like that but for the time being despite his manner of speech Nishka actually agreed with William. Her people had gotten used to handling any problem with the stored treasures of the past, and in a world where space itself was falling to pieces around them, even the gilded waterfalls of the capital's treasury meant little.

The fragile silence of the bridge continued as more bodies trickled in. It was just a few minutes before the scheduled time to start that the door was opened once more, this time revealing a face that left a smile on Nishka's lips. 

Ozen was standing and moving around with no indication that he had been injured recently which brought a smile to her face. The state he had been in when Pasha found them both was a frightening thing for Nishka to witness. Pasha had not allowed her to try and reverse it since Ozen hadn't seemed to be dying but all the same the way that he had been almost sweating blood as they ran left her terrified. 

Nishka's own nervousness about his condition had been made worse when Pasha laid down her punishment. Once the medics confirmed he was stable Pasha had been adamant that Nishka wouldn't be able to see him until he woke up. It was hardly a severe reprimand given that Nishka had risked her life as she did but it was an effective enough one. Honestly she had a feeling Pasha understood her own feelings of guilt for allowing Ozen to get hurt like he did in the first place. If she hadn't broken the first amulet the two of them would have been able to return safe and sound. Even smarter though would have been asking Pasha to join them. Quite frankly that may have resolved the issue immediately, but it was all in the past now.

Seeing Ozen here, heavily rearmed and moving easily was a weight off her chest. As he made his way inside and took his place at her right, mirroring Pasha's own position on her left, Nishka felt both a weight off her chest and a degree of confidence fill her. 

Seeing the start time finally arrive Nishka cleared her throat and addressed the room. "I believe that everyone is here now, and we can begin. I want to begin by informing everyone of our current situation as it stands." With those words she gestured to a large electronic console in the center of the room, serving as both a temporary table and map.

On the map was a large landmass with a variety of topographies scattered across its surface, although the majority of them were the dusty brown of deserts or barrenlands. Across the map in various locations were makers that designated various nations of terra and their most recent locations. The accuracy of the map today was in question given that the coalition of nations had been migrating north aggressively but the most important parts of it were still accurate as far as Nishka knew. 

Namely the location of the vast expanse of Sargonian territory in the west of Terra, and the nigh impenetrable stormwall that the Sarkaz of Kazdel were keeping active. Disappointing as it was to see, the stormwall was farther east than it had been when it was first deployed. Despite being an unimaginably powerful catastrophic storm, the fact that the whole world of terra itself was being assimilated into this strange new land made holding one's ground nearly impossible. 

Even after five years of working to understand it more, the collapse phenomenon was still opaque and impossible to properly understand. The broadest strokes of it were understood now, namely that random spatial anomalies were popping up across western Terra which were wreaking havoc on the geography of the region. There was also the fact that the distribution of those anomalies seemed to resemble a steadily advancing wave. Far to the west or east of the collapse front things were stable, while the closer one got the less predictable things were as spatial anomalies appeared at random. 

It had been one such anomaly that had teleported their caravan so far to the west in the first place, forcing them to try and make their way back. Nishka and the people of Menat-Ha'mait had the unfortunate pleasure of living in one of the westernmost cities in Terra and the spatial anomalies impacted them sooner than most. In truth though, being translocated as they were was a rather miraculous outcome compared to some of the horror stories that began circulating once the collapse gained momentum. She had heard mentions of mountains being flipped over or inverted, and people that were caught on the edges of ripples being carved into pieces as space moved differently between their left and right side. There had even been stories starting to circulate about temporal breakdowns starting to appear by the time the evacuation caravan was put together.

With all that in mind, simply being dropped off a few hundred kilometers to the west was far from the worst thing in the world. But it did put them on the wrong side of the Amnannam Storm Wall, their people's best line of defense. "Our caravan is currently facing a number of related issues that we must come to a decision regarding and I'd like to start with the most pressing one. As most of you are no doubt aware by now, we are currently west of the Amnannam Storm wall." With a gesture to the map Nishka pointed to a vast line of spirals stretching across the west of Terra like a wall, to the west of it a lone red dot sat. "On our current heading we'll reach the storm wall in another four days and promptly be destroyed by it. This matter of our heading is the first order of business we must discuss. I want to propose abandoning our course through the storm wall and instead change course. Does anyone oppose?"

One of the captains in the room sat up and addressed the group. "Honorable Padishah, would it not be worthwhile to continue the course while we attempt to establish communications with the Sarkaz? If they open passage through the storms we can safely rendezvous with allied forces and resupply."

Nishka nodded at the man, "Respectfully captain Nadir, we must consider the risk such an action would pose not just to our group, but to those beyond. If any of the transcendent natives or corrupted beasts laying siege to the stormwall follow us through any passage I've little doubt they will be more than capable of laying waste to the forces on the other side. If terra loses the storm wall the hostiles the collapse has brought will flood the continent and cause countless deaths. We cannot forget that the bulk of our own Sargonian Brothers and sisters are braving the northern trek on foot, and would surely be swarmed if that happens." As she finished speaking Nishka looked back across the room, searching for signs of discontent and feeling relief when she saw none. "With the absence of any dissenting opinions let's call the first issue closed. After this meeting we will adjust our course. That does bring us to another issue though, one that Mister William was talking about with me earlier."

Taking the clear invite William stood up. "Well as the lass said now that yer all wanting to go anywhere but a straight line we've got a problem to deal wit. Mind you that even if ye were wanting to stay the course we'd still be having issues with keeping these near fossilized hulks moving." He accented his words with a stomp on the deck. "As it stands we've got five days of O̸̝̕ř̵̺i̶̮̋g̸̰͒i̴̼͠ṉ̴̿i̴͚͗u̴͋͜ḿ̷̖ ̶̻̍ left before the whole caravan dries up and the desert takes us. Sadly as you're all aware five days north, south, or west won't have us sitting pretty. Which leaves us wit some choices to be made. And I'm offering my up own opinion to be gutting the landships and putting as many folks as possible on the vehicles that are left."

His words earned a round of chatter from the assembled captains, one of which stood up and glared at William with a look of worry and panic "Mister William, I can't agree with such a choice. These vessels are valuable historical artifacts, legacies of the 18th shah and the first landships Sargon ever built. Not only that, they're the largest and best defended in the caravan. We've got almost 3000 people on each of the landships and their guns have been holding our perimeter. If we lose them we'll be cramming people together so tightly they'll be left sleeping standing up, and we'll be forced to lean on our scouts to hold back corrupted beasts. We must simply find another way that does not discard or damage our people's heritage."

William shook his head in reply and pinched the bridge of his nose with his hand. "Listen here you loon! These five ships are drinking three quarters of the caravan's O̸̝̕ř̵̺i̶̮̋g̸̰͒i̴̼͠ṉ̴̿i̴͚͗u̴͋͜ḿ̷̖ supply. I know some of that's going to the guns but all the same, we can't keep this up if we run out of fuel trying to drag these hulks around. Historical value wont mean shite when we're all stumbling through the sands fighting off beasts."

Before a shouting match could well and truly spark Nishka's voice echoed out through the room. "Please everyone, we cannot turn on each other so quickly like this. We are each of us rational people and we can handle this situation with maturity." She gestured to William as she looked at the captain. "Waseef, as much as it pains us all, we cannot cling to our history needlessly in this day and age. William has much expertise around matters of mechanics and his input cannot be dismissed. We may well need to consolidate and abandon some of the vessels." Her gaze then turned to William. "But I want us to consider any other options first before we abandon all five of them. Waseef's point stands. On sheer square footage alone these vessels can carry more than any other. These craft have the space to house and sleep more than the smaller vessels could. If we must, we could even force more people on board two or three ships and sleep in shifts, something impossible on the smaller vessels. Beyond that, even if we were to sacrifice all five of the warships that only buys the rest of the caravan twenty days to travel. If we are to head north even that won't be enough."

The two men in question were quick to cool down, the logic of the counter not lacking. William was the first one to sit back down and speak. "Aye that's true, we'll be fucked no matter what then. Part of me wants to try and mention that the maintenance of these hulks is its own extra nightmare but your point is solid lass." As he sat William leaned back and massaged his temples with his hands. "We may be able to split the difference a tick here in that case. If we were ta drop two of the ships here and get folks moved about, my boys and I can scavenge what we can from em. I got a few lads with Ȁ̵̱̀ŗ̸̔t̶͔̎s̴̢̊̓ that're great for melting through metal so we can even carve off the cannons and engine components. The extra weight aint ideal to be sure but it would be enough for us to keep up with maintenance on what ships we keep."

Pasha took that moment to step up from Nishka's side and addressed the room. "That's all well and good but we should get to the biggest problem first everyone. Even if we slag everything and put all the fuel in one APC we still won't have enough to make it the thousands of kilometers north we have to go. We need to figure out a plan for our fuel before anything else."

The group fell silent at the reminder of the root of their problems. The fact of the matter was unless they got the fuel needed for their vehicles they would end up stranded in the desert. Unfortunately finding O̸̝̕ř̵̺i̶̮̋g̸̰͒i̴̼͠ṉ̴̿i̴͚͗u̴͋͜ḿ̷̖ in the wastes of Sargon was vanishingly unlikely, even more so after the wavefront of the collapse had passed by and scattered things like a child rampaging through a sandbox. Perhaps it they had the months needed to dig and find a vein of the stuff it would be different but in a hurry they weren't exactly going to find O̸̝̕ř̵̺i̶̮̋g̸̰͒i̴̼͠ṉ̴̿i̴͚͗u̴͋͜ḿ̷̖ falling out of the sky…

Nishka's eyes widened as she looked down at the map and focussed on the storm wall itself. Despite being controlled by the Sarkaz using the Amnannam, it was still basically a constant catastrophe storm. And there was one thing that all catastrophes had in common which set them apart from normal natural disasters. Be they storms, earthquakes, or meteor falls, catastrophes left massive surface deposits of O̸̝̕ř̵̺i̶̮̋g̸̰͒i̴̼͠ṉ̴̿i̴͚͗u̴͋͜ḿ̷̖ in their wake. "I… I may have an idea of what we can do for fuel. I'm not well learned in the process of mining and refining O̸̝̕ř̵̺i̶̮̋g̸̰͒i̴̼͠ṉ̴̿i̴͚͗u̴͋͜ḿ̷̖, but I know that it is found in the wake of catastrophes. And there is a wall of them in front of us."

***

As Shirou stood in his position and listened to the discussion evolve in front of him he was struck by how deeply he had found himself in this strange and alien culture while still finding it strangely relatable. These people were seemingly of an entirely different species from him and yet the more he listened to them and watched them the more familiar their culture and mannerisms felt. There were still a number of differences, the mention of O̸̝̕ř̵̺i̶̮̋g̸̰͒i̴̼͠ṉ̴̿i̴͚͗u̴͋͜ḿ̷̖ being yet another word that he was seemingly prevented from hearing, along with their mentions of catastrophes and the storm wall. But despite that they all seemed so human to him that it was a bit jarring. 

Despite the quick pace that it had started with the meeting drug on as soon as Nishka had proposed her plan for gathering more fuel. It seemed that these catastrophe storms had a tendancy to leave surface deposits of O̸̝̕ř̵̺i̶̮̋g̸̰͒i̴̼͠ṉ̴̿i̴͚͗u̴͋͜ḿ̷̖ in their wake which the caravan would ba able to refine into fuel thanks to a refinery rig that had been brought for use as a transport. The issue that seemed to persist with that plan was the fact that aerosolized O̸̝̕ř̵̺i̶̮̋g̸̰͒i̴̼͠ṉ̴̿i̴͚͗u̴͋͜ḿ̷̖ particularly the activated form of it seemed to be capable of infecting people with a rather horrible disease that most of the group was rather frightened of. The fact that Catastrophes seemed to almost entirely be composed of activated and aerosolized O̸̝̕ř̵̺i̶̮̋g̸̰͒i̴̼͠ṉ̴̿i̴͚͗u̴͋͜ḿ̷̖ made the prospect of going inside to mine it extremely dangerous. 

Despite that fear though the discussion didn't end out right. There was talk of a cure that had been developed by something called Rhodes island as well as speculation that the storms may not be as lethal since they were being guided by the reformed Sarkaz. The later point was sadly shot down by a reminder that the storm's purpose was in fact to kill anything trying to cross it. 

Eventually as the night began to settle in, a proper plan was tacitly agreed upon. The caravan would prepare to depart at once but halt final departure while the civilians and crew from two of the five land battleships moved to the remaining three. As they did, William's crew would cannibalize anything of value from the two remaining ships and everyone would then set out to the northeast until they reached the edge of the storm and made camp at a particular location.. 

Maps for anything west of the collapse front were increasingly unreliable, it was only due to scouting and luck that they had managed to find the valley they camped in now. There was evidence so far though that particularly large landmarks were being relatively conserved even after the effects of the collapse passed over them. Even as mountains were being inverted into craters or shifted around dozens of kilometers, mountain ranges as a whole seemed to be staying put. 

This was the basis of Nishka's plan. If the topography of the western Sargon desert wasn't disrupted too badly then the caravan would be on track to reach the mouth of a river canyon that ran far to the east. The caravan would be able to stop and shelter their remaining ships in there while the volunteer team drove the mining rigs and mobile refinery farther east, using the canyon to blunt the storm and get them close enough to collect fuel.

By the end of everything the captains and other leaders seemed to have regained some optimism about their path forward before they left, leaving behind Shirou, Nishka, and Pasha.

Nishka let out a breath once the last person left the bridge and relaxed, shaking off the tension of leadership. As soon as she did she spun on her heels and buried her head in Shirou's in a tight hug. "OZ! I'm so glad you're ok! I was worried sick about you after you got hurt again."

The young man in question was a bit surprised by the unexpected contact as he tried to think of what to do. He still hadn't found a proper baseline for how this Ozen would react to something like that, and did not want to stand out too much. Luckily, it seemed that being a little awkward didn't raise any suspicion and after a few seconds Nishka pulled back and wiped her eyes as she looked up at him. "I'm so sorry about everything that happened Ozen, I… if I had been more careful with the amulets or contacted Pasha to help, then you wouldn't have had to get hurt like you did."

Shirou looked at her with a touch of confusion as he tried to understand why Nishka looked so distraught at the mention of the journey. They had made it back and she didn't suffer any major injuries, unless she was afraid of dying while they were traveling? She had gotten hurt healing him after all so she must have been worried about herself. The only other explanation was that she was worried about him getting hurt but that wouldn't be possible.

As Shirou continued to try and figure out what was troubling her a lightbulb seemingly went off in his head when he realized that the body he was in belonged to someone else. This Ozen person was clearly worth something to others, which suddenly made her words make sense to him. Since it was someone of value in this position then it was clear Nishka was afraid of him dying. 

A smile formed on his face and he looked down at her. "I'm sorry Nishka, I was a bit foolish on my part as well in hindsight. If I'd used the remaining amulet a bit better I would have probably not gotten hurt so much and needed you to heal me. Let's put it behind us now that we've made it back ok? Pasha seems to have already given us both some punishment."

Said woman looked over at the pair with a smirk on her face. "What a surprisingly sensible thing for you to say brat. I'm used to you being a lot more stubborn, not that I'm complaining though!" She raised her palms in placation and let out a laugh at her own joke, earning a snicker from Nishka as well. "By the way I've gotta say that when I told you to rearm I didn't expect you to take three swords and a siege bow for Ancestor's sakes. Do you even know how to use that thing?" 

Shirou looked back at the massive bow strapped on his back as Pasha gestured to it. He still didn't quite know why but he had a deep sense of familiarity with the weapon. Enough so that a strange feeling of self satisfaction bubbled up in his chest at the sound of Pasha's disbelieving question. "To be honest I just grabbed anything that felt right to me. As far as the bow goes though, I suppose giving it a test would be the best way to find out if I can use it don't you think?

***