Assassin led him through many twists and turns, which only one who either did extensive homework or a native could even begin to make sense of. Probably trying to make sure nobody followed, which was wise considering. It was about then that the thought hit him, 'We're going to actively attempt to kill people.' Mordecai gulped for air, and furrowed his brow. It was worth it, he thought. A wish is a wish, and he could do so much with just one. The thought occurred that he could wish for more wishes, but that would be breaking the rules a bit. Also it would be stupid. He smiled at that, and found he had been thinking most of the way there.
The building was ordinary enough, like any other that inhabited the area. Looked nice at first, but the sheets were undoubtedly... bad. He strolled in, asking the person at the front desk who's official title escaped him at the moment.
"Uhm... Do you speak English? Please?" The mans curt nod told him he could proceed, and he ordered a room. It was in the mid levels, and the room smelled funny. Like the hall, but stronger. He covered his nose, hoping he'd get used to it. He walked around, depositing his bag on the ground, and climbing into the bed.
"Good night, assassin..." He muttered, letting jet-lag take him into slumber.
"No. I am your Master. I'm doing you a service, fool - I could use a command spell to order you to obey me like a dog, should I wish. But we have more important things to do - so swallow your sodding pride. Cunning will win the Grail, not arrogance."
Rider narrowed his eyes once more as the two mortals made feeble attempts at a show of power. This was almost pitiable it was so pathetic. However, they had shown him an unkindness that was inexcusable. If this pitiful man truly believed himself to be greater than a hero of legend, Rider was going to test his mettle.
"I don't know who you think you are, spirit, but you WILL show my little brother some respect.
"Tch." he began, sneering at Maria with disdain at her rebuke. "A woman like you apparently has not learned you are best seen and not heard." The man's massive hand reached out and cupped her chin, forcefully making her stare at him. "It truly proves how inferior a woman's mind is with such drivel that passes for a thought between those pretty little eyes of yours."
After his quip towards Maria, Rider's attention turned towards Clay, the full breadth of his disgust radiating from his composure.
"And you ask what man stands before you that he shows no fealty to a pathetic soul such as this brother of yours?" A laugh escaped the brute's lips before he could stifle his mocking amusement of the statement. "Even a dulled mind such as your own must realize who I am, else why would I be here?" Rider advanced a few steps towards Clay, tapping his halberd playfully on his shoulder. "Of course, what match am I, a great hero of the analogues of history, compared to the omnipotent Clay, the warrior who knows no peer, the immortal king of the battlefield and master of the Holy Grail itself! What possible use am I but a mere tile upon a greater board of tactical genius upon which I should be eternally grateful to play such a role underneath the weight of sheer greatness that is you, oh my dear Master. If you are such a prolific champion of your age, maybe I should simply wait here and beg for your forgiveness after you slay each Heroic Spirit with your magnificence!?"
The great warrior spat at Clay, the gesture as clear as any other show of sheer disgust at his Master's behaviour.
"You speak of arrogance while you wield hollow threats that mean nothing! Go ahead, command me with the seals. I may not be as knowledgeable in your sorcery as other great heroes may be, however, I am well aware that even your pathetic seals of control are finite in both power and quantity." As he took a small pause he leaned in towards Clay, now face to face with the man, the most terrible of wicked grins upon his face. "So use them. Use them all! You may be able to stop me thrice, but when that power wears thin, your control will lapse and I will crush all that you cherish before your very eyes. It is an end befitting of a powerless coward."
Rider straightened himself to his full height, his face visibly changing from defiance to outright rage.
"So what do you know of war? Of battle? That you, peasant, could dare consider yourself my better and speak of cunning as if you knew how to command a thousand men? How many men have you killed with your hands? How many men have you sent to their deaths without another thought but victory? What praises have been written of you and your exploits? I have dueled great generals, have defeated and army with but a stroke of my spear and endured a thousand wounds and still stood to kill the man who dared oppose my will. How dare you believe you deserve my respect and believe me to be indebted to you. How. dare. YOU!
The last word boomed through the library, literally shaking the room as books rattled in their shelves at the exclamation. The aura of power that radiated from the beast before the magus was unrelenting, an almost visible manifestation of his passion and spirit. He warrior quickly hefted his halberd back toward the ground to rest it upon the floor, held fast at his side as the floor vibrated with the power he had let it land with.
"If you truly believe yourself to be my better, then prove it. Strike me, peasant boy, that you may hope to taste the power of a peerless warrior."
His stare was deadly as it focused upon Clay. Rider was determined now to show the mage that he was not one to be commanded as others. His pride was too great and his will too steely to let some boy order him around. He had been a champion in his day and to be spoken to as if he were some sort of rabble as the ones who stood before him was deeply insulting. If anything, his gaze showed that if Clay were to strike, there was a strong possibility that only one would be standing by the end.
Collab with Glasgow. Just got the green light for my additions.
Maria watched in awe as Caster made his magic work in front of her. The strange way in which he made the conjuration work through a prayer reminded her of magic that relied upon the incantations of ancient words. They both stood at the edge of the city overlooking the vast ocean and feeling the salty breeze move past them. She had slipped out of her shadows the moment they left the church but Maria still felt uncomfortable around others.
We first need to lay out our plans
The Catholic Church one atop a hill would serve as the nest of this game's judge, a place where those desperate enough will seek out refuge. This is why they have to be eliminated before they reach the protection of their lord.
" We need a few helping hands", Maria spoke in her native Hungarian and the man seemed to understand her perfectly. He clasped a cross in both of his hands as he said the magic words, his gesture more akin to a prayer than casting a spell.
A short blast of white light blinded the woman for a mere moment, and the second she opened her eyes she was met with an unusual creature. It was a small little fellow, reaching up to her hips, colored red. It had a small head with two long horns. Its hands were thin and long, both holding a pitchfork. Its legs were the ones of a horse, and a long tail with a triangular blade dangled between its feet.
"You?", Maria mumbled as she stared at the creation in front of her.
"Yes, it is me. I have brought this damned creature to serve us, so we may use it to our needs. It is more than eager to help-", He spoke in a low-toned murmur, slowly going over each word as if considering what to say next. He looked down upon the sodding creature and then unexpectedly extended his arm towards the fragile looking thing. The hell-spawn smiled and showed a row of teeth, not too different from the ones of a shark.
Maria was disgusted and intrigued simultaneously by this unexpected turn of events. She couldn't understand how something that came from hell would exist on this world, but she had little time to question her Servant.
"Go there-", Maria pointed up at the church, "stay hidden at all times. Alert us when you see people coming in and out of the church. If we order you to fight?", Maria was worried the little thing couldn't stand on his own even against a normal human.
"Kill!", it screeched delightfully in a high-pitched squeal, "I follow order, yes?".
The infernal creatures can talk as well? oh Caster, what else do have you in store for me?
"Yes", Caster answered calmly, "Go now. I can hear you in my thoughts". The red demon ran forward at an incredible pace, its two horse legs propelling him forward and his tail moving left and right keeping him balanced.
"Stop looking at me", Maria ordered Caster to avert his eyes. He continued to examine her physique against her wishes. His dead eyes scanned the old hag's face and body outside of her shadows, but the enchanted coat covered her up completely.
"I can't, dear girl", Caster spoke softly for the first time he had ever opened his mouth. For a moment Maria thought it was someone else's voice that she had heard. He extended both of his arms forward as if he was about to bend down and hug her.
"Time had robbed you of your perfection, but your essence still remains. You need not hide behind false appearances for deception is a source of sin", his kind words soon turned into something else entirely. Another of his sermons Maria had heard all too often.
"Enough", she blurted out and pulled back, away from Caster. "It's just? just to keep myself safe, so others won't see who I am", Maria tried to excuse her use of shadows to mask her appearance.
"You feel ashamed, don't you?", he asked her worryingly. She had been kept in that birdcage for years on display, and when she had grown old and useless they stuffed her inside a box. Maria couldn't see if his concern was real or not, and it only made her angrier.
"I won't need to once we're done", she answer him swiftly. Maria turned away from Caster and looked at the waves coming to the shore. She couldn't bear to see him examine her like that.
"You want your youth back, but time cannot be changed. When you make your wish, old memories will still remain. You will never be rid of them, so embrace them". An air of tension rose up between the two and again a moment of silence was observed as the waves crashed against the harbor to the east.
"We never did come up with a plan", Maria commented flippantly as she stared at the waves smashing against the rocks in the harbor nearby. A heavy hand covered her left shoulder from behind. It was a cold sensation, quickly followed by the words from her Servant.
"We need not one. Trust God and embrace him. We were destined to win, so we may spread his word among his children", Caster spoke in a different language this time, but it was one Maria could understand as well. For some reason he switched to speaking German. The old hag suddenly turned around to meet her servant head on, throwing his hand away from her and looking at his sunken black eyes.
"No!", she shouted at him, "the other six, were they not chosen by god?", she said harshly. "Do you think that it is god who made this tournament? Is it god who made a few able to use magic, but made the rest unable?", her words echoed through the empty beach to no response. The tense atmosphere was broken by Caster's peculiar laughter.
"Of course! The power of prayer showed you just how powerful he can be! He chooses who lives and who dies, and thus I have resurrected, like the savior hims-", Caster sped up his words in excitement, often tripping over and mispronouncing many as a sense of pride seeped through his spirit. It was all cut short by a hand slapping him across his face and throwing him off-balance.
"You're a servant, not a man!", Maria yelled at the imposing figure as it was down on the sand. The moment felt as if the floodgates were burst open.
"Did god put me on this earth and gave me this gift of pain and suffering?", she watched as Caster tried to stand up and pull himself away from the cold sand. Her hand flew at his face again as he was halfway through getting up.
"Did he make my womb a shriveled piece of waste just so I could fit his divine fucking plan?", her anger started to manifest itself through her once stoic expression. She had listened to the man ramble for the past two days about his divine plan, and she had enough of that.
"Did he make me a disposable piece of shit because he chose me for death? And you-", she watched as Caster didn't react to her aggression, his passiveness pushing her forward. "-You were brought back because of ME, not anyone else!", she started pacing around the old man nervously.
Caster was humiliated by the woman's commands, but he couldn't act against her. His vision of a new world may seem too far-fetched for such a poor soul that looks only for its own interests, but in time she will understand. An idea popped into the old man's head, a devious plot he will be set in motion to deceive Maria and win her support for his cause.
"Do you believe in god, my dear master?", he asked her meekly.
"Y-yes", she answered loudly.
"What if? what if this magic is his gift, but not his will?"
"What are you talking about?"
Caster looked up at the woman who would become his master, bound in blood and faith. His eyes glistened in the moon's light, and a blue glint appeared instead of his black sunken holes for a mere moment.
"What if he is able, but not willing?", he whispered between his lips which formed a smile on his face.
Maria stood petrified at the sight of Caster smiling. Something felt out of place? something was amiss.
"If we pray and he does not listen, we will use the grail to open his ears".
"Stand, Caster."
Caster was expecting an answer from his short master, but instead came an order. He rose up to his feet, still expecting to be hit again for the third time. He couldn't lay his hands on a woman and attack his master? that would be biting the hand that feeds him.
"I believe, Caster. I believe his will, but he had gone silent for too long."
Maria stood in front of Caster and raised her right hand to meet his face. He tried to recoil in fear, but instead she gently stroked his cheek.
"Who are you to demand his attention, Caster?"
The question left him stunned. The woman mentioned the other six, not unlike him, who were brought back to fight for the grail. How can he be sure it is he who was chosen by God?
"The victor will be chosen from a river of blood. You win, and you will be worthy."
Maria came closer to Caster and embraced him tightly.
"Help me win my life back, Caster. Prove yourself to be worthy"
He closed his eyes and his mouth moved silently as words formed a prayer against the backdrop of the ocean's waves.
The demon scurried away from Maria and Caster, its tiny equine legs propelling it forward at a fantastic rate. It no time at all the imp had traversed the distance between its summoner and the church. Panting slightly, its fangs bared in a smile, the hellish creature cautiously paced around the building's exterior, its pitch black eyes scouring for any hint of life, traps, or magical barriers. Even monstrosities such as him had to be careful around places like these.
Spotting nothing to be worried about, the demon hurried forward. Its claws and tail digging into the wood, it clambered up the side of the church with ease, reaching the roof in a matter of seconds. From here, it was an easy task to locate a window, and an even easier one to flip the simple latch that held it closed.
Its entryway found, the imp was unable to repress a cackle as he climbed through the window, into what appeared to be some kind of storeroom. Infiltrating the church had been a snap; now all he needed to do was find a place to hide and-
"I tell them not to bring their conflict here, and the first thing they do is desecrate my home with hellspawn."
Hissing, the demon whipped its head towards the source of the voice, baring its fangs and claws in a sign of aggression. He would show this interloper that size didn't matter, not when your foe was armed with demonic ferocity.
Father Meminger merely smiled at the creature. "Hmph. Well, it's not like you'll be here long."
[hr]
The Beach:
Caster felt the creature he had summoned disappear.
[hr]
Somewhere in Shinto:
The Mercedes-Benz CL drove away from the barely lit church, its headlights carving through the early morning darkness. Black as night and equipped with a smooth, noiseless engine, the sedan navigated Fuyuki's sleeping streets without difficulty, thanks in no small part to the careful hands of its driver. Though he was certainly an older man, only able to see the road thanks to the pair of circular spectacles that adorned his face, he handled the automobile with incredible skill and precision, doing all he could to ensure the comfort of his two passengers. Keeping the temperature at a steady 23 degrees (Celsius, of course), checking that the strains of Mozart that wafted through the speakers weren't too loud, and making sure that the GPS was correct, all of these were the duties required of any competent manservant.
"Damn priest..."
After switching off the radio, the driver reached up to readjust the rear-view mirror, stopping when it afforded him a decent view of the young woman sitting just behind him. Even in such a small mirror, it was easy to see the annoyance that played across her features as she glared out the window, her crimson eyes lazily tracing the passing scenery. Her voice was dripping with unconcealed anger, though the driver could have sworn he detected just a hint of nervousness as well. "Who does he think he is, calling me in there like that? Did he honestly believe that I would have any questions, that I would need help? Tch, bastard..."
"Now now Ilene."
The butler could feel his hairs stand on end as the second passenger spoke up. There was just something about that smooth, dulcet voice that rubbed him the wrong way.
"There is no need to lash out at the Father like that," the man in the rear seat continued. "He's just trying to perform his duty as best he can. Just as you were chosen to fight in this War, so too was he chosen to moderate it. There is no sense in berating him for doing what has been asked of him."
"Don't bother defending him, Lancer," Ilene spat back. "It's not like we'll ever be seeing him again. We, or I, rather, won't be needing to seek sanctuary, now will I?"
Lancer chuckled for a moment before responding, apparently unmoved by the girl's harsh words. "Of course not, my Master. Rest assured, we will emerge from this War victorious, with the Grail's power at our fingertips. I would be staining my reputation if I did anything else."
"Heh. That's what I wanted to hear." A smile slowly stretched across Ilene's lips. "Ilene von Einzbern, victor of the Sixth Heaven's Feel. Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"
"I believe you mean Ilene von Einzbern and Lancer, don't you?"
"Hmm? Oh, yes, of course I do."
The conversation died down, and the driver refocused his eyes on the road. Just in time to notice the building coming up on the left.
"Miss Ilene," he began as he pulled into the hotel's driveway, bringing the sedan to a perfect stop, "we have arrived."
"Oh, thank you Micheal."
Opening his door, the manservant exited the car and stepped towards the back. Waving at the valet and busboy, Micheal directed them towards the trunk while he himself opened the rear driver's side door. It was only appropriate, after all, that he escort his mistress; the common rabble could deal with the bags.
The young woman stepped out of the car, nodding in his direction as she stretched and gesturing that he should go around to the other side. He was a step too slow, however; Lancer had already opened his own door and exited into the driveway. Spotting the butler coming his way, the Servant smiled and shook his head. "No need to trouble yourself, I'm quite fine."
Taking a step back, Micheal offered a short bow to the taller man, silently praying that Lancer hadn't seen the apprehension that filled his eyes. Really, he wasn't sure why he was so uncomfortable around the Servant; Lancer had been nothing if not polite, and there was nothing in his appearance to warrant such trepidation. Then again, the butler mused, if anyone knew of Lancer's reputation...
But there was no time for things like that. He had to get his mistress and her Servant checked in, ensure that their bags were taken upstairs, arrange for breakfast, lunch, and possibly dinner, begin his investigations, the list was endless. A butler's work was never done, after all.
Clay stood, his expression disinterested, as his Servant raged before him. His legends had told of his legendary ego, so he stood aside and let him vent. He yelled and screamed and spat, declaring himself a god amongst men and the greatest warrior to have ever lived. Clay simply turned to the side, sitting down to sip his tea and ignoring Rider's outburst.
"If you truly believe yourself to be my better, then prove it. Strike me, peasant boy, that you may hope to taste the power of a peerless warrior."
Clay turned an eye to Rider, standing with his halberd at the ready. "Oh, you're finished. Tea?" He said, with a nonchalant gesture to the still-steaming teapot.
"Would you prefer I shaved here, or leave now? Matters concerning the family are hard I know. I'm unsure if any of my descendents even survived the last centuries."
Dirk stood, having been resting on the floor for a brief spell. He took the duffel bags from Saber and set them in the room across the hall, where the cooler now sat. He stretched his tiring muscles, and blinked a few times until the sudden shock of drowsiness passed. He looked back his Servant's way and directed him towards several plastic baggies full of various supplies. First aid, mouthwash, soap and toothbrushes, various amenities of life he'd need to bring with him.
"Put all those in the spare duffels." he commanded. "You can shave later. It's more important we get away from here." Saber went to work, and left Dirk in silence. He folded his hands in one another behind his back, staring out a window at the quiet street, nothing but blacks and yellows this late at night. He could see the imposing shadows of the hills and mountains, slightly blacker than the twilight sky, stretching up in the distance.
How can something so instinctively terrifying be so beautiful?
It's like a beautiful, dark ring. Our arena, to fight and die in a pitiful struggle. All for what? Tradition? A stupid wish? How many people am I going to have to kill for the sake of a single wish?
He pursed his lips, thinking of the coming weeks.
I'm going to miss Omisoka this year.
Saber had finished, leaving Dirk the task of gathering everything up. A duffel bag of books, a bag of various other supplies, and a cooler of food. He handed the latter two to his Servant, taking one for himself before moving for the door. He opened it and gestured his companion out first. "We're heading back to the bridge. I know a place we can sleep for the night underneath, and it'll give us a vantage point to sense the movements of the other combatants."
Dirk stepped out the door, getting down the first step of the porch before a voice called after him.
"Wait!"
It was a woman's voice this time. A lady no less than a foot taller than Dirk shot from the door, still in her lilac nightgown, and wrapped her arms around him. She was physically imposing, with a stature like an Amazon warrior and strawberry blond hair, wavy and curling down to her hips. Her skin was the same tone as Dirk's, maybe a shade lighter at most. Her face was almost circular, only her elongated chin breaking the childlike, kind shape. To her credit, her face didn't indicated her strength. Dirk looked like he was about to snap in two within her grip, and a small choking noise escaped his throat.
The woman finally released him and bent down to look him in the eye. Eyes identical to hers. She smiled sweetly, and quietly asked, with just a tinge of an accent, "Did you think you were just going to sneak out of here without saying goodbye?"
"...I may have been hoping." Dirk quietly admitted to his mother. Her smile only grew, and she let out the fist huff of a laugh that died after it.
"Well, tough luck." she said, hugging him one more time--softly, though. Dirk noticed something wrapped around her fingers.
"What's that?"
Mrs. Orihara unraveled it, revealing a silver chain, laced through a simple, gleaming silver cross. She smiled as she watched the reaction in Dirk's eyes, not even thinking as he studied every facet of it. Every little nick and scratch, every spot that was shinier than the rest. She knew how his head worked, so focused on the details he could hardly get the big picture. Maybe someday, though, she thought.
She took the chain and slowly stretched it over Dirk's head, pulling it down and setting the cross neatly on his collarbone.
"A perfect fit." she happily remarked. She placed her hand on the cross and told her son, "This was given to me, when I was confirmed. I was just a little girl back then. And now it's yours."
Dirk stammered for a moment, unsure of what to say. His mother tilted her head, blushing a bit. "Maybe it's silly to hope, but it might bring you some luck!"
Behind them, Mr. Orihara stepped through the door and watched the scene, too happy to be upset. "I'm sorry, son." he said jokingly. "I tried to stop her, but you know how she is. I know you don't like goodbyes like these."
His wife stepped away, letting him come forward and put a hand on his boy's shoulder. "So, I'll keep it simple, all right? Good luck, remember to eat well, maybe meet for lunch one day?"
Dirk stared back at him, silently. They both knew that was too dangerous.
"Right then." his father said, bowing his head and closing his eyes. His smile was different now. Sadder. "Maybe just write us, then."
He stepped back, and wove an arm around his wife's, waving one last time at Dirk before turning back for the door.
"Goodbye, son." Mrs. Orihara whispered.
"Bye, mom." Dirk replied.
This might be the last time I ever talk to them.
"And... dad."
His father turned back, and looked at him.
"For what it's worth... I'm sorry."
His father's eyes were glistening now, in contrast with the proud, beaming grin on his face. "Don't be. Just come back to us."
His parents stepped away, for real this time, quietly shutting the door as they separated themselves from him, for the coming war. Dirk could still hear the muffled sobs of his mother behind the door. He turned away, stone-faced and moving with much more passion and energy than was needed at this time of night.
"One last thing," he turned and bowed as he usually did to Dirk's family, though much adapted since he had his arms full of a cooler and a bag on his shoulder,"I will bring your son back to you if it is God's wish, Lord and Lady Orihara. Should that prove impossible, I will protect him beyond what my abilities can do, if need be."
The once-giant of a man turned around again and followed Dirk out the door and into the December night once more, a clear sky where the moon shone bright and shadows were few and far between. It was a good, but lonely night to have said goodbye. He walked beside the young man, silently thinking to himself. So much had changed, and this was a strange, but wondrous land he walked in.
Caster had been following Maria through the dark city streets. The late hour made sure there weren't many bystanders around, but the rules of engagement allowed for any master and servant to jump from the shadows and strike the two. Caster was still shaken by his conversation with his master earlier. The consequences of the revelation baffled him, as it seemed like God did not care particularly for his wish.
"Master, you never gave me your name", Caster meekly asked Maria.
Maria hoped her confrontation could pacify Caster, if only for a few more days. What happened back there on the beach was something she couldn't ignore either. Some of his words had merit, even if he at the end twisted them into another of his sermons. Her past is already gone and there's nothing she can do to change that. All that remains is her new future she will acquire through the holy grail. Happiness didn't look too distant after all.
"Master, you never gave me your name", Caster spoke quietly, as if he was begging Maria to answer. His sudden shift in attitude surprised Maria, but she wasn't sure how to respond herself. Will she give him her real name, or will she ask him to keep calling her his Master? After all, he already knows her clan's name.
"Maria is fine", she said. Maria turned towards an apartment building and Caster soon followed. A few of the people in the street stared at the giant of a man walking through the city in the night, but they weren't in any danger of being found out. It didn't take long for the two to climb a flight of stairs and reach the second floor, where they stopped before a steel door leading to apartment number seven. Maria reached for her pocket and dug out a key which she used to open the door and get inside the flat.
The first thing Maria smelled was a foul smell of rotten food. Since the place was supposed to be taken care of by her clan's hired help there wasn't anyone watching over the apartment for over a week.
"Caster, clean that mess. I'll throw the trash out", she said before locking the door behind her. "You can't be seen running around outside anymore? At least I can change my appearance".
Such an indignant response. While Rider's retort had been very dramatic, Clay had countered in equal kind with a paradoxical sense of reserved disinterest. They were complete opposite ends of a spectrum, which only furthered to stroke Rider's ego the wrong way. He had made a name for himself, become a legend in the face of adversity and now some foolish child dared call himself his master? The entire scenario was incredulous!
...So why was he grinning?...
The massive Servant couldn't help but see some of his own arrogance reflected within Clay. They may have clashed in completely opposite ways but the spectrum was still measuring their sense of pride. They were both filled to the brim with it and there would be no sense twisting an advantage to play against themselves. However, the peasant had still slighted him and the Servant would be very clear in his objections to being thought of as a dog.
"Then a peasant you remain," Rider said flatly, letting go of his halberd as it dispersed into particles of mana. His eyes narrowed with focus, the flicker of his tactical mind raging behind his eyes for the first time. "If you cannot strike me now, then what use are you upon the battlefield?"
With the air of tension for the most part having evaporated, the Heroic Spirit walked over to the table Clay had seated himself at and pulled out the chair to the side directly to the boy's left. Motioning for Maria to join the pair, he then took his own seat across from his new "master", moving as gingerly as he could manage. The seat groaned under his weight and Rider was almost reluctant to stay seated, looking over his shoulder at the chair beneath him. However, the furniture had endured the ravages of antiquity and the hero focused his attention back towards the mages after he was satisfied it would not collapse. Maria joined them without so much as a whisper, ever the consummate observer to what was transpiring.
"However, there is still the matter of you slighting my name and stature," Rider continued, his face as serious as ever, maybe even more so now that the rage had removed itself from his tone. "Your power is commendable but false and I call no such man my master, if any man would hold such dominion."
"So long as we understand each other," Clay responded, raising his cup and saucer to his lips.
"Then understand that if you ever dare to speak to or of me in a manner not befitting a noble warrior I shall have found myself a new quiver; skinned or otherwise," Rider snapped back, his temper flaring slightly at the mere thought of the act but still within reason.
Clay stopped for the briefest of moments mid drink, his eyes meeting Rider's with intent. Then the gaze was broken as he set the saucer and cup back onto the table, not a waver in his composure. "Duly noted."
Clays' eyes then darted towards the teapot once more, his fingers fidgeting slightly around the handle of his cup at the insult Rider had unknowingly committed. While his servant was a tactical genius, his tact within the halls of the nobility seemed less than lacking. It was a weakness that needed to be calculated for. At least if Rider could be controlled in more politically delicate situations he would easily be able to ease his way through the finer points of a negotiation but control was something the brute obviously lacked. Catching his absent-minded fingers, he once again looked to the teapot. "Would you still be interested in some tea, Rider?"
The servant raised an eyebrow at the offer this time, not so much because he was unsure of what Clay was speaking about but that he had never seen such dark tea before. Curious, he delicately lifted the lid off of the teapot and looked thoroughly disgusted with his discovery. The darkened water looked more poisonous than anything and he could feel his stomach churning at the mere thought of ingesting something so offensive.
"Ah, of course," Clay casually interjected before Rider could answer the question. "Perhaps something local?"
Rider nodded appreciatively before responding. "Yes, that would be most acceptable."
Without so much as a queue from her brother, Maria was already off, as silent as a wisp of wind to go and fetch something more accustomed to the giant's pallet.
Clay took the opportunity of Maria's absence to brief his servant in what information he was able to gather before his summoning. They went over the Einzburn daughter in great detail: a full description, her favoured school of magic and methods Rider could employ to attempt to counter it if he wasn't around, details on what they could gather of her intended base of operations and that she had been able to summon the Lancer class as her Heroic Spirit. The stress the mage put on making Ilene a priority could not have been more palpable. He mentioned that another prominent mage family, the Tohsaka's had reportedly joined the war but no movement had been issues from their estate as of this time. The last bit of information that Clay could impart was that the Schmidt family had finally recouped their losses in their last prospect and found a candidate for this war, which was also of concern considering their house focused on magics in subterfuge. Worse still, she had summoned Caster as her servant, which meant their magical prowess would be unsurpassed.
By the end of it Rider didn't look terribly concerned with the majority of the conversation. "This Einzburn you speak of should be of no concern, nor should the one called Tohsaka. We should not concern ourselves with those who foolishly summoned the three knights."
"Oh?" Clay questioned, sipping his tea to sooth his parched throat quickly afterwards. "They are the three most powerful classes. You should be concerned."
"Their strengths lie within their combat abilities," Rider explained. "My skills in spear and bow are unmatched by any and I am a master in all other arts of combat. I ride like wind to blow over entire armies. If they choose to duel me they will assuredly meet their demise." The warrior looked quite smug with himself by the end of his explanation.
"It was more out of concern for their respective masters." Clay looked at Rider intently for a moment to get his point across. "I would rather be facing an inexperienced master in the final battle than one who has superior skills in their house's school. I'm not concerned whether you believe you can defeat their servants easily but rather that an experienced opponent could potentially gain a strategic foothold more easily if we allow them time to do so."
Those words sunk in harder than any others that evening. Rider was an excellent strategist but the confidence he had in his abilities sometimes blinded him to the bigger picture. While it was important to ensure the servant would be dispatched, it was of equal importance to slay the master as well for fear of them binding another servant to do their bidding. Even without a servant some mages still posed a significant threat. His head bobbed up and down for a few moments as he considered this piece of advise.
"This is true, boy. However, Caster presents a unique challenge to my skills. I am not experienced in combating these sorceries that you mages wield. It is a weakness I am uncertain I can overcome easily, thus, placing the servant whom can wield these magics more masterfully than anyone else would be well advised." Rider ended looking almost ashamed of himself for not having the foresight of protecting himself against something that hadn't existed in his era.
Clay simply nodded once, finishing off his cup of tea. "I figured that would be the case. I dredged up some of my mother's old notes. She's quite adept in the sygaldry warding we initially intended to use to protect the manor. They contain instructions for a ritual that would shore up this weakness."
Rider's face twitched to disappointment for a moment at the mention of his imperfection once again. Still, he understood it was his fault and that any weakness they displayed needed to be dealt with. He gave a slow, solemn nod to that. At the very least he could overcome his one fault due to Clay's over prepared nature.
Before the two men could delve any further into their strategy, the large wooden doors swung open with Maria leading one of the house's maids into the room. The attendant was expertly balancing a traditional shinto tea tray with a matching teapot and cup with the set Clay was using and a multi-tiered sandwich tray with pastries, finger sandwiches and even a few rice balls, made of pure sterling silver. The short blonde woman deftly slid the trays onto the table, busying herself with setting everything properly while Maria slipped back into her seat as quietly as she had left. As the food was being set out, impatience got the better of Rider and he reached out to grab his cup and teapot, quickly getting it moved back to his side by the maid as she fussed about to serve him his tea immediately.
"Oh no, Master Rider," the woman pleaded, smiling kindly as she slid the cup onto a saucer, "Allow me to serve you. It is my duty."
Rider grinned and looked over at Clay, that smug look quickly returning. "You see peasant? This is how a hero should be treated!" An uproarious laugh bellowed out from him afterwards as the maid continued to smile sheepishly at the comment. Clay fought down every urge to roll his eyes, not wanting to ruin the small space of time he had managed to get Rider's personality under control. Besides, so long as it wasn't him that had to stoop down and feed his servant's ego, what harm could it possibly do?
"I do hope you enjoy the tea." she continued as she poured out a glass of the tea, "It's a special blend called-"
"Gyokuro!" Rider interrupted with a joyous exclamation. "Such a fine delicacy. I have not had a pot of this in ages!" The absolute rapture in the servant's voice was enough to make anyone but Clay melt with sheer happiness. "The gentle, wafting aroma, the perfect colouration of green and that subtly flawless combination of sweet and bitter. Truly the jade of all teas, as its name implies."
The maid was shocked at the sudden outburst but more so by the extensive knowledge of the tea without even having tasted it. "Of course, Master Rider. It's amazing you could tell just by the mere smell of it. You must have an extensive knowledge of teas."
"I do indeed, miss." Rider nodded before bringing the cup to his lips, taking the smallest of sips just to savour the unique taste before setting it back down. "It is nice that someone can appreciate the art for what it is. Perhaps we could compare teas some time. However, I doubt any tea within this country is as sweet as yourself."
The maid turned bright red at that comment. With the hastiest of bows, she scurried off, almost shuffling she was in such a hurry to hide her embarrassment. Rider could only look stupefied at the reaction, not sure what to make of it. He scratched his cheek with his index finger absent-mindedly, staring at the door in bewilderment. "Was it something I said?"
"Maria is fine", Caster's master answered his inquiry.
Maria, oh such a beautiful name. The virgin mother, full of grace, mother of Jesus Christ himself...
Caster enjoyed some moments of day dreaming about his master and her newly discovered name. Oh, the possibilities in his mind were endless, but her divine name only gave him more conviction in his believes... He have been born from the magic of Mary, and he will do the will of god. Caster's day-dreaming was interrupted when he noticed he haven't felt the presence of his minion for too long now. As Maria entered the apartment and Caster soon followed, the horror stemming from the apparent consequences struck him.
"Caster, clean that mess. I'll throw the trash out", she ordered the imposing figure. Caster watched Maria glide through the kitchen towards the other rooms in the apartment. The foul smell didn't trouble Caster as much as the realization he came to only a minute ago.
"Mast-... Maria, the demon... He is gone. The one I sent to the chapel - Something, or someone, ended him. That catholic priest...", Caster's voice trembled as fear slowly crept into his mind. "The rules of the game...", he mumbled quietly.
Maria turned away from Caster and went ahead to see what else the apartment had to offer. To her left was the kitchen and to her right was the living room. Walking forward, she saw a hallway to her right which lead to a small bedroom and a bathroom at the end.
"Mast-... Maria, the demon... He is gone. The one I sent to the chapel - Something, or someone, ended him. That catholic priest...", Maria heard Caster speak from the kitchen. His voice alerted her something was not right with him. She turned back and walked towards the kitchen where he stood, leaning against the counter.
"The rules of the game...", Caster added.
"Calm down, Caster. Even the judge can be killed.", Maria tried to reassure her servant, "He's not aware of your spells, is he?".
Maria walked past Caster and opened the refrigerator. She ripped a garbage bag out of a cupboard on her left that was almost out of her reach. She hurried back to the refrigerator and started tossing most of the food inside the garbage bag.
"The rules can be broken, but there comes a point when someone had gone too far? lets make sure we don't do that, alright?", Maria turned to Caster and smiled. Her reassuring words calmed him.
"Caster, behind are some files in the second drawer. Get them out and start going over them. I'll be back in a bit".
Dirk led the way on the walk back, taking a different route than the one that had brought them to his home. They did not turn off the street, walking directly along the side of the road. Their path carried them to a final intersection, where they could no longer walk on a straight path. The houses stood on the edge of a slope, rolling down to the river beneath. Dirk motioned to follow, and hopped a fence, moving up to the slope and sliding down. When he neared the bottom, he stopped himself and began to head north.
"The bridge in Fuyuki is built strangely." he said in a slow, lilting voice. He sounded as if he wasn't paying any real attention to his words. "On either side, where normally the concrete running beneath would be a flat surface, there are indents and nooks. They have enough room for several people in a single one. Usually, the homeless sleep there, but on a night this cold they'll have gone to a shelter. It should just be the two of us."
The pair approached the superstructure spanning the river, a much more imposing sight when one was below it instead of on it. The water to their right was flowing gently, the muted tides providing ambiance for their quiet journey. The world itself seemed to grow darker when they passed into its shadow, walking along the border between grass and sand. Once they were full concealed beneath the bridge, Dirk turned left and led his servant up the hill. There was a small alcove, just where the man-made structure met the earth beneath it. Dirk crouched, and shuffled in, setting his load down. He gestured for Saber to do the same, opening one of the duffel bags. Of all things, he pulled out a lighter and a small container of gasoline. Setting them down, he dashed down towards the sand, grabbing several rocks and wayward branches left alongside the river and hauled them back up. He sat down, and set the rocks in a circle, placing the sticks inside. He gestured for the cooler, and once he had it removed a small log of wood.
He glared at Saber preemptively, as if he expected criticism. "They wouldn't fit in the duffel bag." he insisted, taking part in an argument that had yet to exist.
"The benefit," he began, cutting himself off for a moment as he worked on starting a fire. A few embers finally caught, and began to grow. "of this spot, is that you can start a fire, and someone would have to be standing on the opposite bank, directly across from us to see it."
Dirk reached into the cooler again, pulling out a bottle of water and taking a sip. "And if someone on the bridge senses us, they'll assume we're up there somewhere. To find us, they would have to be in the spot I mentioned--and if they know this city, they'll just assume we're hobos. Or else, they would have to deliberately come underneath the bridge, and walk up to this precise spot."
There was a look of distinct confidence in his eyes when he coolly stated, "They won't think of that."
Not much activity occurred afterwards. Dirk could already feel the fatigue of the day catching up to him, and he would need rest. Giving a curt goodnight to Saber, he laid out one of the bedrolls and dropped into slumber.
He dreamed of painful things that night, and squirmed in his sleep.
"Calm down, Caster. Even the judge can be killed" . Caster was taken aback by his master's comment. He himself proved to be unaware of such a possibility in the game. Even though he was gifted with information concerning the new, old and magical worlds, he had little knowledge of the Holy Grail war and its history.
"He's not aware of your spells, is he?", Maria tried to reassure Caster who was worried about his minion missing. Caster watched as Maria went to the source of the foul smell and bagged it, a task he was ordered to perform himself. "The rules can be broken, but there comes a point when someone had gone too far... lets make sure we don't do that, alright?". Maria winked at the tall man and proceeded to walk away from the kitchen.
"Caster, behind are some files in the second drawer. Get them out and start going over them. I'll be back in a bit". Caster nodded in response. He opened the second drawer from the top and inside he found an imposing stack of papers. Maria was already gone before he could say another word.
The old hag stepped outside the apartment and made her way down the stairs when she was reminded of the shadows she must wear outside at all times. She returned to a figure of her younger self, or at least that's what she claimed it was. The cold streets only pushed her to finish her business quickly and she scurried back to the apartment.
Back inside the apartment Caster was scanning the files he had on hand. There were only four of them, each of them containing information about a certain someone. He raised his head to the sound of the door being opened and watched as Maria returned.
"We can't face them head-on", she said as she was pointing at the files. "An assassin would be our major concern?", Maria stopped and began to undress. She pulled the strange tattered coat from her and threw it at a sofa on her right. "I like keeping my throat intact", she jokingly commented. Caster could see his master's full form. He was right in his first assessment ? she was truly beautiful all those many years ago.
"Your face", Caster quipped. Maria wasn't sure what he meant to say, but she soon realized she had kept her shadows even within the apartment. She shook off the illusion and smiled awkwardly. "I didn't even notice", she tried to excuse herself.
"?.And the others?", Caster asked her master. Maria walked towards him and showed him all of the people her family knew would come to the tournament. "Usual suspects as always-", she held one of the briefs up, "The Einzbern girl". She opened the brief and showed Caster a picture of the girl when she was 17. "This is the oldest we have, but it'll have to do. This girl? is very dangerous if left alone for too long. Her magic is unusual to say the least, and it fits well within this game of deceit". Caster eyed the girl with much curiosity. She would be the one to suffer his wrath and in time, pave him the way to his ultimate desire.
"Our situation is troublesome, Caster. We don't know the landscape or the language, while others here are familiar with any nook and cranny.", Maria seemed worried at the predicament the two were in. "We need eyes on the street? but ones that won't be seen in daylight. Can you do that?", she inquired.
Caster nodded his head in disagreement. He couldn't do such a feat and have it remain unknown. If his demons were to be seen by the ordinary person a riot could break, and the little things are too unruly to trust. They might just eat one of the passersby and not stay undetected.
"I can't do it. These creatures? I can't hold their leash tight enough-", he tried to explain himself, but Maria cut him off. "-and if someone sees them, we don't know what could happen", she finished Caster's thoughts. The two stared at each other for a long moment before Maria broke away from his gaze and looked down at the other three briefs.
"These are the known families and what they have sent as their emissary. The Marks clan sent this boy-", Maria pointed at the next brief containing little information on Clay Marks. The other two briefs concerned Yeshua clan's peculiar contribution and the Topfer clan's supposed candidate. Little did they know that before the tournament the girl who was supposed to represent the Topfer clan was replaced by a younger, more accomplished one.
"We need to stay quiet. I know you all can feel each other, which is why we have to find a new hiding place soon?", Maria walked away from the kitchen back to the living room. She pulled the drapes and peeked outside the window to the street below. "..I could burn it all down, Master", Caster tried to reassure his master.
Ilene stared out at the slowly setting sun as it sunk below the horizon. Its brilliant, golden orange rays still filled Fuyuki with light, but the girl knew that it was only a matter of time before darkness overtook the city. Night would soon be upon them, and with the night would come the War.
Lowering her gaze, the girl stared listlessly at the salad in front of her. The hotel had boasted that its chefs were world class, capable of cooking the finest cuisines from any country she cared to name. Anything that came from their kitchens was guruanteed to be delicious and nutritious, a treat for both the palate and the Petty lies, as it turned out; the beautifully prepared greens and vegetables turned to ash as soon as they touched her tongue, just like everything else that apparently passed for "food" out here.
With a contemptuous snort, Ilene shoved the plate away and rose to her feet. If she wasn't going to eat, then it couldn't hurt to review the briefings one last time. Even if she knew most of them by heart, being over prepared never hurt anybody. Micheal had been kind enough to leave the folders on one of the end tables, organized alphabetically of course. The old man was a stickler when it came to keeping things in order.
Browsing through the various files, the young magus silently reviewed each of her foes. Marks. Orihara. Schmidt. Topfer. Yeshua. These were the ones she would be going up against, battling and killing, in the coming days. This upcoming war would require all of her talent and skill, all of her strength and intellect. She could not afford to interrupt even a single one of these names, lest they-
The clinking of a fork and knife managed to rose her from her thoughts. Irritated, Ilene shot a glare at Lancer, still at the table and, judging by the look on his face, falling madly in love with his porterhouse. It was maddening; not only did he have the gall to enjoy his food in front of her, but he couldn't even be asked to keep his mouth closed?
"Ahem," she growled, glaring a few daggers at the Servant.
Lancer, shaken from his ecstasy, at least had the decency to look somewhat ashamed at his lack of manners. Laying his silverware across his plate, he bowed his head in her direction. "My apologies, Ilene. I seemed to have lost my senses for a moment; rest assured that it won't happen again."
"Hmmph," she grunted back in reply. "You act like you've never had steak before. History may not be my strong point, but I'm pretty sure they had cows back in your time."
"Oh, but of course. It's just that, after existing only as a Spirit for so long, being allowed to eat true, real food, and food of such high quality, overwhelmed me. My old cooks were never capable of crafting such delectable meals, nor could they grill the meat to such perfection!"
"I suppose."
Picking up the folders, the woman strode over to her Servant, slapping them down on the table next to his plate. While over there, she couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the hunk of meat; she never would've figured Lancer to be one for well-done steak.
But there would be time to dwell on his tastes at a later time, she reminded herself with a shake of her head. For now, she had to make sure that they were both prepared for the coming night. "Now you're sure you've memorized all the information Micheal managed to compile for us?" she asked, drumming one of her fingers against the table. "It's imperative that we know what we might be getting into."
Waving a hand at her, Lancer dismissed the files, choosing to instead go back to his meal. "Of course, of course," he said as he sliced off another bite-sized portion, spearing it onto his fork. "You should have a bit more faith in your Servant; I know all of that drivel by heart."
Slipping into silence for a moment, Lancer savored his next bite, enjoying both the flavor that poured across his tongue and the irate look that slowly crossed his Master's face. Finally swallowing, the Servant patted his lips with a napkin before continuing. "Honestly, it's like you're afraid of losing."
"Ha! Don't make me laugh," Ilene responded, pacing throughout the penthouse. "There's no way that any of those worthless, low-class frauds will be able to compare to me. They can't hope to compete with a member of the Einzbern family."
"Then they shouldn't be a problem," Lancer concluded, happily going back to his food. "We just stick to the plan and everything will work out, yes?"
"Very true."
Sighing, Ilene left her Servant. It was time to go find Micheal, and to get the car ready. Less than an hour remained before nightfall...
With his master asleep from jet lag, Assassin thought it would be a good time to scope out the perimeter. He had already picked this spot because he knew it would be frequented, but just far enough out of range that the others couldn't sense his movements. He slipped on his cloak, announcing proudly "Haunting guise", hiding himself from all and began his patrol.
Hiding in a large city is harder than one would think conventionally. People try and fill every corner and getting bumped was always a problem. If that happened, Assassin usually just had to bolt it and try to get away. Food was sent to be delivered, it would await him and his master when Assassin came home. He was excited, the thrill of waiting always kept him on edge. Pepperoni, cheese, pizza was simply amazing. Assassin lamented having to kill, but with the grail, at least some of his wrongs could be made right.
Finishing up his patrol was one last landmark, the bridge. This was the main reason for everything. He knew people would cross the bridge and as long as he stayed far enough away, but within walking distance, his plan could work. Walking closer he could feel a presence nearby, impossible to tell where but it made a smile creep along his face. He was correct. The presence was still, unmoving, taking camp there by the looks of things. This was more perfect than he could have dreamed for. Assassin went to a good place to sit, a fountain nearby the bridge and waited.
Rider sat in the room Clay had prepared for him the previous night, his eyes glued to a computer screen. As a heroic spirit, he didn't need sleep, let alone a room of his own, but it was only natural for a warrior of his stature to demand such a basic luxury. If he couldn't have a place of his own, why, he was no better than the common rabble! Though, he had to admit ? provoking the rabble proved to be an ample source of entertainment.
'big spear L cmpnesate much? Lol'
He snickered to himself as he pressed the enter key. This 'internet' the maids showed him as they prepared his room was intriguing, so he made a MyFace account and decided to have a little fun. He snapped to awareness, however, when he heard somebody tapping on the door, likely one of the maids. This suspicion was confirmed when he heard a soft voice swiftly follow. "Master Rider, Master Clay requests your presence in the parlor."
"Very well. You can tell the peasant I shall be there shortly..." he grumbled, "...after I respond to these 7256 friends I have now made."
--------
The parlor was too small and stuffy for Clay's tastes, but he supposed it would do. He lit the fireplace with a wave of his hand and started to clear out the furniture, creating a large space in the center. Producing a piece of chalk from his pocket, he started to draw a ritual circle on the ground. It wasn't as intricate as the summoning circle used to summon Rider, but it was carefully crafted all the same, a web of strange runes and eldritch shapes. He stood back as he drew the last line, examining the circle to find any flaws. Satisfied with his work, he produced a binder of notes from a bag to his side and started to read them.
'Hm. The mental warding ritual will require a silvered soulblade, if I remember correctly... Ah yes, here it is.' He laid out the notes on a table next to him and read the first section of the ritual, concerning the preparation of the soulblade. He produced a small, silvery dagger from his bag and placed the blade in the palm of his hand, drawing it across in one smooth, slow stroke. A trickle of blood spilled over the dagger's shaft, and Clay then placed it, blade first, into the ritual circle. He extended his bloodied hand towards the ritual circle and began incanting. He wasn't certain of which language his mother used for this particular spell, but he suspected it was an obscure dialect of ancient Greek. As he finished the spell, he saw the dagger's blade begin to glow with a dim blue light. He couldn't help but smile at this result ? the ritual had been a success.
"Well done, little brother. Mum would've been proud." Clay turned to see Maria enter the parlor, carrying a roll of bandages. "Hm. Have you seen where Diana ran off to?" Clay asked, turning to his sister. "I need her to gather some materials."
"Already done, Clay. I sent her off with a list earlier today. She should be back shortly."
Clay nodded in affirmation, nursing his cut hand. Maria took it and bandaged it, taking care to put pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding. As she finished, Clay saw Rider's imposing figure enter the parlor. "Boy! I have discovered something intriguing while on the informative roadway. I had several merchants offer very credibly sourced male enlargement products. I myself would never need such things, however I thought you might be interested, considering-" Rider cut himself off mid-sentence, shooting a look at Clay's injured hand with a sneer. ?What is the matter, peasant? Can you not handle a simple blade?" Clay refused to dignify the insult with a response, instead gesturing with his uninjured hand to the ritual circle, the bloodied dagger still buried in the center. "A tribute required to ward you properly. You're going to have to make a much larger one, I'm afraid."
Clay stood up and moved to the circle's edge, removing the dagger with his uninjured hand. "Sit in the center of this circle and extend your dominant palm outwards." Rider did as he was told, sitting with his back straight and his face stoic. Though he didn't relish the thought of inflicting pain on his fellow man, Clay couldn't help but feel a bit smug as he raised the dagger. "I'm not going to lie ? this is going to smart." He plunged the dagger down into Rider's outstretched hand, the blade making a dull sound as it buried itself into the wood below.
Rider focused his mind to block out the coming pain, but was alarmed to find it was for naught. No matter his concentration, his mind seemed drawn back to his right hand, as though the dagger where dragging it there. Keeping his face as stoic as possible, he grunted out, "What... vile sorcery is this, peasant?"
Clay scoffed at his Servant's comment, dipping his finger in the blood pooling around the dagger's shaft. "This, Rider, is a soulblade. A weapon enchanted to cut directly into a person's soul. The tug you feel is your mind rushing to fill in the gap the dagger has created. You'd be able to resist this pull, where your magical defenses not so... lacking." He drew runes in a circle around Rider's hand in Rider's blood, the power of the spell turning them an otherworldly blue as he finished each one. Clay had performed the ritual once before, on himself, and he could recite the following words by heart.
"By a bloodied soul and a fractured mind, I bind unto thee a bridge between the ethereal aspects. The blood of the body shall serve the soul, the welt of the soul shall serve the mind, and the fractured mind shall bind the body." Clay began to withdraw the dagger, now glowing with a ghastly white pale. He could see Rider visibly struggling to resist calling out in pain, his eyes fixated on his injured hand.
"The tribute of blood has been paid in full. Let the ward seal, as all three become one." Clay withdrew the blade fully, and the flesh around Rider's wound slowly knit back together, leaving a large, garish scar in its wake. Clay examined the gore-stained dagger and was pleased to see the blade had lost its ethereal glow. The mental ward had been placed. That only left one matter to attend to...
"Diana. I see you've returned." Clay turned to the parlor's entrance to see a girl, no older than 20 and with Clay's dull brown hair, standing with bags around her arms and an awestruck look on her face. "Is that... him?" She stammered, her eyes still wide with amazement. Clay nodded in affirmation. "Yes. Rider, this is my younger sister, Diana." She dropped her bags on the floor and rushed to give a bow. "Uh... yes. Hello. Nice to meet you."
Mordecai woke up to the sound of someone knocking on the door. He looked around, dazed, before getting up. He opened it up a crack and opened it all the way when he presented his pizza boy credentials. By that, he said he was a pizza boy. Mordecai sighed, and supposed he didn't sense any magic. He took the pizza, and sat on the bed.
"... I don't even like pepperoni." Mordecai muttered, and put it on the nightstand. He turned on the TV, and sat back. 'This war thing is going well, so far...'
Saber kept watch through the night, the witching hour long past and still he sat across from his Lord Dirk. The small fire had descended to little more than small embers holding out feebly against the cold night and occasional breeze that found its way into their small crevice underneath the bridge, bringing with it the smell of the water and the slight chill a winter sea brought. He laid his head back and watched the entrance, though nothing was ever seen, nor heard, as early as the day was.
So went the night, though Saber felt something within him stir, the instinct that had kept he and his brothers alive while on campaign in Arabia, that nagging feeling of being watched. It couldn't be a Servant or Master, because he felt neither, however, should one of the Servants be Asassin...The implications brought with it many emotions, some negative, mostly a nagging doubt however, and that instinct could not be banished. As the sunlight of the morning began streaming in, he waited for Dirk to awaken, at which point he told him of the feeling he'd had somewhere around the midpoint of the night.
"This may be nothing, but you may want to know it anyways...."
The words had barely registered in Rider's mind. His attention was already preoccupied with the scar that now blemished his perfect hand. Luckily his rudimentary knowledge of Servants assured him that it would simply vanish given enough time and mana, but for now it was a stark contrast to the rest of his flawless self. Satisfied with the eventual results of the ritual, Rider straightened himself out, cutting quite the imposing silhouette with the glow of the fireplace behind him. It was then that the realization that a fourth person had entered the study had caught his attention.
"Yes! I am the great Heroic Spirit Rider!" the servant boomed in the same pompous manner he had when first summoned. "Bow down before...my...great-..."
Rider suddenly trialed off, his gaze dead locked upon Diana. His skin flushed suddenly as his posture became completely relaxed contrasting his usual tense and alert nature. His eyes were glossy and hazed, his attention obviously fluttering off to its own world. The servant had been reduced to a babbling, sheepish mess at the mere sight of the girl. But it was so obvious as to why! She simply radiated with a sparkling presence no woman could hope to match. Her plain brown hair seemed to move in slow motion, dancing wildly as she bowed before him. Such elegance in her modesty.
"Uh... yes. Hello. Nice to meet you."
Rider was taken aback by the sweet and timid voice Diana possessed. It was a chorus of angels singing in a whisper. The resemblance was too striking, yet it felt so perfect. Clearly it was a sign. Despite the bumbling arrogance of his supposed master and the cold and distant reception of their sister Maria, she was the reason for him being in this entire mess of a family. One last glimpse at perfection and -but no. It was simply impossible for them to be the same person. Thousands of years separated the two. Yet...
"I-I-I-I-I-I-Hiiiiiiiiii~" Rider finally managed to sputter out, waving awkwardly with his newly scarred hand. He then quickly spun about, staring into the fire, desperately grasping at his former composure to gain some of it back. "Why yes, um, it must be such, er, an honour to, m-m-m-meet someone such as myself! Of course!" he stammered out, laughing afterwards in a volume not befitting of the exchange, both of his hands at his sides in fists.
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