Wump
The plastic bag, empty save for a few crimson dots that stubbornly clung to its interior, thudded wetly to the ground, just to the right of a similarly depleted sack. A series of Japanese characters were scrawled across both bags, labeling each of them as a pint of blood (A+, to be exact) that belonged to the Fuyuki City General Hospital.
Well, they had belonged to the hospital, anyway. Up until the point the young man had purloined them, along with a pair of latex gloves and a surgical mask. There was no sense in getting blood all over his hands, after all, and the liquid's metallic scent made him feel lightheaded.
With a sigh, the boy stood up, taking the opportunity to stretch his cramped legs as he peeled off the pair of now scarlet gloves and the mask, tossing them into the corner alongside the empty blood bags. Allowing himself a few, deep breaths of the room's cool air (and gagging slightly at the now ever-present smell of iron. His clothes were going to reek of blood until he got them to a dry-cleaner, weren't they?), he paced around the edges of the small storage space, doing his best to slow his racing heartbeat down to a more reasonable tempo.
Still, at least he was alone. He didn't dare imagine what it might have been like, being forced to perform the ritual under the judgmental gaze of all the other Masters, and the priest and deacon as well. Odds were he wouldn't have been able to even draw the Circle correctly, let alone get any of the other steps right. No, things were about as ideal as they were going to get.
...So why was his heart still racing along at a mile a minute?
Snatching his suit jacket off of a wall hook, the youth slowly shrugged it on, letting the stiff, well-made material gently slide down towards his shoulders. Wasting a few more seconds, he adjusted the garment impercepibly, tugging at it and straightening it until he was satisfied with the way it rode his torso. Idly, he patted at the jacket's pocket, feeling the familiar weight tucked away inside. Shutting his eyes, he imagined the cold chunk of iron and steel as it steadily ticked away the seconds, minutes, and hours. He let the constant beat invade his body and mind, focusing on it and blocking out everything else, all the fear, all the worry, all the... excitement.
Tick, tick, tick, tick~
thumpTHUMPthumpTHUMPthumpTHUMPthumpTHUMP~
Tick, tick, tick, tick~
thumpTHUMP, thumpTHUMP, thumpTHUMP, thumpTHUMP~
Tick, tick, tick, tick~
Thump, thump, thump, thump~
With one last exhalation, Matt Heller opened his eyes. Turning on his heel, he fixed his eyes on the fruit of his labors, the magic Circle that now took up a good portion of the room's floor space.
Nearly seven feet in diameter, the device was a dull crimson color. Two large circles, with just barely an inch between them, formed the perimeter of the loop, with four smaller ones at each of the cardinal directions. Within these smaller spaces, four arcane symbols, remnants of a long dead language, were written. The main body of the device was taken up by two intersecting triangles, arranged in a pattern reminiscent of a Star of David, with two more small circles tucked away in their center. Scraps of the mysterious language were liberally sprinkled throughout the Circle; though he could not read them, Matt at least had an inkling of their intent and purpose.
From what he could see, he had done a good job for once. The device looked just like the diagram he had copied out of the ancient tome, and he knew for a fact it was oriented correctly. Unless he had made some error too small to be detected by the naked eye, the Circle was, well... Perfect.
"Heh..."
Dragging a hand through his messy hair, Matt tucked away the scrap of parchment he had been working off of. He wouldn't be needing it again. Instead, he pulled a small notebook, a thin pen tucked into its binding, out of his chest pocket, and flipped to a particular page. Soundlessly, he ran his eyes over the rows of text that he had been memorizing over the past two weeks, ensuring that he really, truly knew them by heart.
Honestly, it looked like he did.
Replacing the notebook inside his jacket, the boy stared at the Circle for a few more seconds, idly wondering what would happen if he chose to just turn around and walk away. If he was quick, maybe he could get out of the church before the priest noticed, get a taxi back to the airport, and then...
"Yeah right," he muttered, tiredly rubbing the bridge of his nose. Christ, he hated jetlag.
With an air of resignation, Matt reached into his slacks' pocket, wrapping his right hand around the thick golden band within it. It was far too large to fit around one of his fingers, and somehow seemed to weigh more than it should, as though the gold had been replaced by a far denser metal.
Not that it mattered, really. He wasn't intending to wear the ring, after all; it was a summoning catalyst, nothing more.
Striding forward, the young man placed the band at the very edge of the Circle, just in front of its most easterly point. Then, taking a few steps back, he cleared his throat for the final time.
"Fill, fill, fill, fill, fill.
"Repeat it five times. As each is fulfilled, so must it be destroyed."
There was a sudden shift in the air. A sudden influx of power, centered above the center of the Circle, that altered the room's small air currents ever so slightly. The ritual was working, at least so far.
"A foundation of iron and silver. Upon it rests the cornerstone and the Archduke of Contracts. Above them, my ancestor, the great Master Schweinorg.
"A wall to block the falling wind. The gates of all four directions close. From the Crown come forth, and follow the winding road that leads the kingdom."
A bright, otherworldly light began to pour forth from the Circle, its brilliant rays chasing away the shadows that lurked in the storage room's corners. Though he had to squint, Matt kept his eyes open, staring in wonder at the Circle as it began to suck in mana from the air. Instinctively, he raised his right hand, the one emblazoned with a trio of red markings, pointing his open palm at the gleaming shapes before him.
"I hereby propose!" he called out, barely heeding the echo his voice made in the small chamber. "My will shall create thy body, and thy sword shall create my fate! Abiding by the summons of the Holy Grail, if thou dost accede to this will and reason, answer me!"
The small gusts of wind grew in power, becoming stronger and stronger until they lashed around the room with all the fury of a storm. Clouds of dust that had lain undisturbed for God knew how long was suddenly kicked up and tossed about, but the boy paid it no heed. Bracing himself against the small gale, he grasped his right wrist in his free hand, struggling to keep his palm open and facing the Circle.
"I hereby swear: I shall be all that is good in the eternal world! I shall be the disposer of evil in the eternal world!"
The now roaring wind grabbed at the lab, snatching at his shirt, jacket, and pants and making them billow about wildly. The light likewise grew ever brighter, until it felt to Matt like he was staring into the noonday sun. Still, he kept his eyes pried open, determined to see this through to the very end.
"Seven Heavens, clad in the three holy souls, cast aside your shackles and come forth, oh Guardian of the Scales!"
With one last shout, the boy finished his incantation. In response to the call, the brilliant gleam surged with power, finally forcing him to squeeze his eyes shut, lest he blinded.
A great burst of wind, stronger by far than any that had come before it, burst forth from the Circle, actually picking Matt up off the ground and carrying him back a few feet. With a muffled grunt, he slammed back onto the floor and, unable to keep his footing, stumbled back into the wall. Relieved to have some support, he tried desperately to shake the sparkles from his eyes, but before he could...
Thud.
A single footstep.
Thud.
Followed by another.
Thud, thud, thud, thud.
Instinctively, Matt knew that there was somebody standing in front of him. Even if he couldn't sense the inhuman amount of prana condensed before him, even if he couldn't hear the clink of iron links or the figure's steady breathing, there was no way he could have possibly missed the sheer and absolute strength of their presence.
This...
This was...
This was a Servant, wasn't it?
"So."
The boy was unable to keep himself from stiffening slightly. Though the voice that had just cut through the silence like a knife had a strong, rough quality to it, there was no mistaking its, for lack of a better word, femininity.
But... If he had summoned that Heroic Spirit, then how-
"I take it that you're my Master?"
[hr]
Saber was unable to hold back a slightly disappointed sigh as she stared down at the boy before her. Instead of standing upright, facing her with boldness and determination, he was leaning against a wall, his breathing haggard, his hair a wild mess, and his eyes half-blind, if the way he was rubbing at them was any indication. A hell of a first impression, and not in the good way.
Grunting and shaking her head in disapproval, the Servant silently watched as the young man pushed himself back to his feet and stared at her with bewildered, half-open eyes. She could feel his gaze sweeping over her, slowly taking in her long hair, her rough, but strangely youthful, like someone in their late twenties, features, and the curve of her chest, noticeable even underneath a coat of iron chain mail. Oddly, his eyes didn't longer long at any of those spots; rather, his scan only halted when it ran into the sword sheathed at her waist.
"But if that's..." he muttered to himself, seemingly trapped in a daze, "then..."
Slowly, the boy's eyes rose back upward. Saber saw no reason to move, and matched his shocked expression with one of annoyance and disinterest. Her hard, hazel eyes stared into his wide, blue ones, and she wasn't surprised in the slightest when he was the one to break the stare first, biting at his lower lip.
"Are you," he began hesitantly, raising his head up again but not quite meeting her eyes. "Are you really Beo-"
"Ah, ah, ah," Saber cut in, clicking her tongue and shaking her head before the boy could finish his sentence. "Come on now, you have to at least know that much, don't you? You can call me Saber. That makes things easier."
"Saber..." he numbly repeated. Then, standing upright as though struck by a bolt of lightning, "Saber!"
The Servant smirked as the boy looked around wildly, half-jumbled mutterings wildly flying past his lips. Not a happy smirk, mind you; it was a smirk laden with disbelief and just a hint of despair.
"So," she said, cutting off the lad's words simply by laying a hand across his shoulder, "let me ask you again: Are you my Master, boy?"
After taking a moment to steady himself, the kid gave quite the succinct answer. "Yes."
"Yes?" Saber repeated, allowing her eyes to fall shut for just a tab longer than a standard blink. Then they were open again, and flicked between the boy's face and the trio of Command Seals upon the back of his right hand. "Well then," she continued, backing up a step and crossing her arms across her chest, "aren't you forgetting a little something?"
"Eh?"
Just barely repressing the urge to drag her hand across her face, the Servant spelled it out for him. "You know, the Grail may have given me enough prana to form a body, but I can't maintain it forever. If I want to do that, then I kind of need, you know..."
"Oh," he replied. "Oh! Right! The pact!"
Saber watched as the young man hurriedly brought up his right hand in a fist, extending it towards her even as he struggled to find the right words. "I, Matthew Allan Heller, a Master in this, the sixth Holy Grail War, ask you, Saber, to fight by my side, to be my protector, and to use your blade to create my fate."
"Well, at least he knows what to say."
Clearing her throat, the Servant responded in a disinterested tone. "I, Saber, the knight of the sword, pledge to fight by your side, to defend your body and your fate."
A slight prickling stole over Saber's body, not unlike the pattering feeling of a light rain. As a small, but steady, stream of prana flowed into her, the Servant cracked a grin as she threw her arms upwards, taking a moment to once again enjoy the feeling of a physical form. Ah, it was nothing short of glorious!
"Well then, boy," she began, an undertone of delight just barely present in her words, "the Pact is complete! Now come on," she continued, dropping her arms and striding towards the doorway. Already, she could sense the presences of other Servants solidifying and forming Pacts of their own; it was time to check out the competition. "Let's get going, boy!"
[hr]
"I... Saber, wait-" Matt began, struggling to get the woman's attention, but failing utterly to do so. She had already charged through the door, and was making her way to the chapel with long, even strides.
Turning his gaze back to the remains of the Circle, the boy took note of the golden ring still lying there on the floor, its gleaming surface slightly tarnished. Hesitantly, he picked it up and placed it in his pocket once more, before following Saber out in the church's courtyard, just in time to spot her making her way into the main building.
"Wai-wait up!" he called, charging after her. "Saber!"
