Fate: Kill

Chapter 34

It had been a few hours since Esdeath left, and Shirou had given up trying to break the ice shackles through force. They obviously weren't made of ordinary ice, and banging them on the bed posts was fruitless. However, at least Esdeath was considerate enough to increase the length of his shackles with more interlocking chain links before leaving. He could freely move off of the bed with a maximum distance of ten feet away from it now.
H

e shuddered.
Honestly, he didn't know if he would have been able to maintain a straight face if he had to be fed by someone while bound to the bed. In any case, what mattered now was that he could move to a limited extent, and that he wasn't alone in the room.
Setting down a silver tray of food, Liver, Esdeath's Chief Commander of her army spoke not a word. On the silver tray, was a steaming bowl of what looked like garnished porridge, baked potatoes, and a cup of poured water. It wasn't anything special, but compared to army rations, it was definitely a quality above the rest.
Liver, the man who carried in the tray, was dressed in a refined manner. He wore a neat suit and tie. Black dress pants were held around his waist by a bronze-buckled belt while the elegant mustache on his face was waxed up on the sides. His beard was clean-shaven, revealing a rugged jaw-line devoid of blemishes. The only thing off about the man was the air surrounding him, more specifically, his demeanor.
Liver's hunched shoulders and deep creases over his brow weren't in line with his 'dandy' appearance. Instead, they denoted hesitation, doubt, and uncertainty that otherwise, shouldn't have appeared on the man.
"Your majesty," Liver spoke up, snapping Shirou out of his thoughts. "If you require my assistance of any kind, please call. I have been instructed by the General to oversee your affairs."
Shirou raised his arms, the ice shackles over them ringing audibly.
"Of course, this is only in relation to anything aside from freeing you," Liver amended politely, hands clasping behind his back, his head bowing slightly. "I have my loyalties, and I am not a man who forgets debts of gratitude."
Shirou snorted, having expected the answer from the beginning. Then again, the situation was a surreal one. Akame and the rest likely believed that he was in mortal peril, but from the way he was being treated, it was the opposite.
By this point, he'd be a fool not to understand why Esdeath was treating him so gently, but Liver's case was different. This was the first time Shirou had met the man, and Liver did not dare bring his weapon into Esdeath's accommodations. Hence, Shirou couldn't even get a grasp of the man's history and thoughts. Be that as it may, body language and attitude spoke volumes all the same.
From Liver's tone, to his polite gestures and manner of speaking as if to a superior, the man obviously held him in high regard despite standing on opposing sides. There were even traces of guilt? Remorse? Regret? It was hard to say, but easy enough to feel.
"Then I will be waiting outside the tent," Liver said curtly before Shirou could arrange his findings.
Liver bowed elegantly, and turned around to leave in a single stroke.
"Wait," Shirou called out.
"Yes?" Liver paused, not turning around to face Shirou despite his shoulders perking up.
"I have a question."
"Go ahead then. Depending on what it is, this old man may be willing to answer."
Shirou opened and closed his mouth, trying to find a means to keep Liver around. The lingering white light still over Liver's head meant that he was likely the most trustworthy or dependable person Shirou had a chance in persuading in Esdeath's entire camp.
Shirou's eyes darted back and forth, searching across the room for anything he could use as a topic of divergence. Finally, his gaze settled on Caliburn left propped at the foot of his bed.
"My sword, why is it here?" Shirou finally settled on asking.
It was a mystery in of itself that it wasn't taken away from him, but who was Shirou to know how renowned he made Caliburn in battle?
Caliburn was now too recognizable. Anyone in the battle of Kalance plains would be able to notice it, and relate it to its wielder.
As it stood right now, no one knew that Esdeath had managed to snag the upstart Emperor before a fight of succession could even begin. Should Honest catch wind of this development, he'd be demanding Shirou's death to the point of doing it himself if need be.
The sword being left without its wielder in Esdeath's camp would have set off all kinds of signs and speculations. In which case, where was the safest place to keep it secured if not Esdeath's personal tent? It just also happened that Shirou was also being kept there, hence the two being in the same location.
If Shirou had asked Esdeath, she'd likely respond with 'it was convenient' due to her own self confidence. However, as Liver and others in the know saw it, it was for another reason entirely.
"No one could touch the blade. The Teigu repelled all who held its handle or touched it. Only General Esdeath was able to transport it here by encasing it in ice," Liver explained cordially. Left unsaid, but he himself had tried to hold the sword to marvel and inspect its craftsmanship and beauty. However, the sting in his palms let him recall the outcome distinctly. "Most Teigu aren't that aggressive. Even if a Teigu dislikes the wielder holding it, at most, it would refuse to obey the wielder's command, not prevent them from even drawing the sword."
Shirou shook his head at the words, already picturing the scene. "Those who are unworthy, cannot wield that blade."
"I'll keep that in mind," Liver said curtly finally turning around to glance in Shirou's direction. "Is there anything else?"
The corners of Shirou's brow twitched. Subtilty and subterfuge was never his strong point, let alone how to sway someone who seemed intent on minimizing contact. At the very least, he had to keep Liver talking and get a grasp of the man's character, or somehow garner his interest.
"There's a story behind it, you know," Shirou drawled, pulling at straws. "A legacy in its meaning."
Liver paused, briefly staring at Caliburn while maintaining a taciturn disposition.
"Is that so…" Liver mused disinterestedly, however; he didn't leave the tent to wait outside like he'd said prior. Rather, he idled, feigning ignorance.
Somehow, someway, Liver really did have an interest in this subject. Different from him and Shirou though, was context.
To Shirou, Caliburn was the sword of King Arthur, but the Liver, it was the sword of the First Emperor.
Yet all the same, it was a Sword of Selection- of worthy kings and a hero to quell the violence raging across the land.
"He who so draw'eth this sword, is the true King of the land," Shirou iterated the beginning of the legend slowly, the words sending shivers down Liver's spine.
Looking directly into Liver's eyes, Shirou saw what could only be described as the longing of a dream and weary forlornness.
"Would you care to listen?"