Happy Christmas to everyone - including Iron. I'm sorry for how long it took and I know I'm holding everything up, but I hope you all enjoy the extra long post!
"Why are you still standing there, peasant!? Unless you wish to join me, our conversation is finished and you may resume whatever petty tasks you choose to pursue."
Clay furrowed his brow at Rider's continued impertinence. He may have expected this sort of resistance when he selected this hero, but that hardly blunted the pain of working with such a difficult person. "Working to identify Saber isn't trivial, Rider. Knowing his true name means we can easily research his strengths, weaknesses, and, most importantly, which Noble Phantasms he possesses. I'd not like a repeat of what happened tonight." Rider scoffed at his Master's retort and turned back to his game. "A man, a servant; they all die the same and none are more perfect than me." Clay ignored his servant's retort and decided to take a closer look at the game's box - anything capable of holding his fickle servant's attention for more than five minutes had to be worth his time.
'Admirable Grand Strategy: Conquest? I've always wondered what the deal was with video games.' He picked up the unused controller to Rider's side, taking a seat with a half-interested expression. 'It couldn't be that difficult... could it?'
"So the peasant believes he can aid the King of War? Very well." Rider scrolled down and selected himself once more, smiling as he changed the game type to Multiplayer. Save for the few moments he saw Diana, it was the first time the warrior had genuinely smiled. "Choose your destiny, boy!" Arrayed before Clay was an impressive selection of heroes from every known mythology. Celtic, German, Chinese, Egyptian, Greek... wait, Greek? 'Does that mean they have...?' Scrolling down the hero list, he lit up a bit when he saw his favorite Greek hero highlighted.
"Odysseus!?" Rider questioned, glaring at the sub-par statistic block for the hero the boy had selected. Clay shrugged off Rider's criticism. "What can I say? I loved the Odyssey. A seminal work of Western literature. You should read it sometime, you know - I quite think you and Odysseus would have gotten on well."
"I think not," the servant protested. "He is far from a true warrior's strength, such as myself."
Clay cocked an eyebrow in curiosity, not quite understanding what Rider meant. "Oh, you mean this game isn't like the Grail War? I thought renown was a determining factor for their strength. Does that mean those gauges indicate strengths in certain areas?"
"Of course it does, boy! How would you otherwise know which characters are the strongest and best to choose?"
"I see..." Clay looked over Odysseus once more, making sure his selection was fitting. A high energy stat tactically seemed like a good contrast to his partner's statistics, even if his other areas were lacking compared to other possible choices. His eyes then searched the screen for information on how to select the character. Apparently he was required to hit the start button. Looking down at the gamepad didn't clear this matter up, having so many buttons and so little time to come to a conclusion. Finally, Clay decided to swallow his pride and turned to his servant.
"Which one is the start button?" he asked, holding the gamepad with its face towards Rider, pointing to it.
"What!?" Rider cried out, laughing hysterically at the sheer irony of the situation.
Clay was visibly annoyed now, which could only mean the rage of a thousand white hot suns was burning beneath the surface of his demeanour. Without thinking, he swung at his servant with his comparatively tiny fist. It bounced off the warrior's shoulder as if he were made of steel but caught his attention almost immediately. Regaining his composure he looked down at his master, still smirking, noticing he had not taken too kindly to Rider's uncontrolled spurt of laughter.
"You imbecile," Clay viciously remarked, an edge to his voice. "Why would I waste my precious time with trash like this? The only reason I'm even sitting here is because it amazes me that something within creation exists that can keep your attention for more than five minutes."
Before Clay could storm out of the room, a gigantic hand rested on his shoulder and pushed him back down. Rider was looking at him, still wiping away tears from laughing, smiling all the while. "A man's soul must be as solid as iron," the warrior emphasized by pounding his chest with a single fist twice. "If you cannot handle simple jest from a comrad-in-arms, then you will not be prepared for the horrors of war." His eyes flashed with a knowing look. "However, it is my duty as a warrior to prepare you for the rigours of battle, pixelated or otherwise."
"Rider, I'm perfectly capable of-" Clay began, but as he saw the doubtful look on Rider's face he sighed and grabbed the controller, admitting defeat. "Fine. What is my first lesson, oh great Master Rider, in the zen art of video game kung-fu."
The servant smiled, then made his best impression of a wizened sensei, holding up one finger to accentuate the bit. "First, you must respect your elders, young grasshopper. As they say, 'A rolling stone comes to he who waits'. Your first lesson will be to practice the basics of proper and efficient movement on the battlefield. After all: 'A stitch in time is worth two in the bush...'"
Clay arched an eyebrow at the stupefying display of idiocy before him. He just simply couldn't believe his infamous hero was such a ham. Rider, on the other hand, was busy selecting the tutorial missions so Clay could acclimatize himself to the pace of the game. He knew it might be awhile before his master was up to the challenge of taking on Arthur and his knights but with enough practice he was certain the boy would prove competent enough. This was Clay Marks, after all, self-proclaimed genius and work-a-holic. It was only a matter of time before Clay studied this game to death.
Which is exactly what they did. For the better part of an hour, the two trained in the fine arts of air-juggling, wall whoring and combo meter stacking for Heroic Tension. As the time passed, Clay became more focused on his objectives, able to execute some of the most difficult maneuvers in the game with relative success. It was as simple as a spell when it came right down to it. Simply recite the incantation on the gamepad, keep your target in sight with the control sticks and you would assail him with a flourish of a hundred strikes. Even he had to admit it was quite gratifying to watch his pixelated Odysseus wipe out wave after wave of anonymous soldiers. The only thing that perturbed him was the way Rider kept smiling every time he glanced over at him. It was unnerving for the brute to be pleased, knowing how he could find humour in the darkest of situations and actions. Clay eventually disregarded the gesture as pure excitement. He could tell Rider was passionate about winning the upcoming fight he had sorely lost an hour ago.
"Alright boy," Rider exclaimed, pointing towards the television with vigour, "it is time we seek vengeance upon this King of Knights!"
Clay nodded with fierce determination. It was strange but he was beginning to understand why Rider found this to be so amusing. The chance at a glorious victory and the sheer skill you had to possess to realize that victory was a thrilling prospect. Being able to input combinations of buttons with speed and precision purely on instinct - it was a proof of mastery over something mystical in a sense which the young mage could relate to. It also helped that Rider was setting the mood as if this were a grim battle to decide the fate of the world. For his servant, however, maybe this was how he had to treat every battle. If he handled them with his normal blazay manner, it could be his last...
Before Clay could dwell on the matter any further he was prompted by the game to select his hero and the officers that would serve under him - a game mechanic that allowed the player to pick heroes that would help assist them in leading charges against the enemy forces. The young man gave pause when he noticed Rider had already chosen his set up. Stranger still was the fact that he had foregone choosing all but one officer. Most interesting of all was his choice.
"An interesting choice," Clay remarked. "Did you forget to choose your other officers?"
"What? Of course not!" Rider seemed unsure of himself in that statement. "You get extra bonuses for fighting with less officer choices."
"We both know that's not true. So why only one?"
"I would not want the game to be unfair. It should pose some sort of challenge. If I selected too many officers it would simply be too easy." His tone was shaky, not the usual confident Rider Clay was accustomed to. If he just pushed a little bit further, maybe...
"But you lost last time, Rider. Wouldn't it make more sense to-"
"Because shut up peasant, that's why!!!"
The room became deadly quiet after the servant's outburst. The only noise was the hero select screen music playing from the television. If looks could kill, Rider's would have been Ea with the amount of disdain and hatred it held. Clay simply looked back towards the screen, knowing he had pushed too far. Maybe his servant couldn't forgive himself for what he had done. It was a strange paradox. Rider had given the explicit order to sentence his best friend to death yet the amount of grief that weighed on him was immense. It was a concept that Clay simply couldn't understand. If his friend had meant so much, why have him killed? There was no logic to it.
Rider's focus was doubled as his rage fueled his fighting spirit. While he could eventually forgive Clay for his ignorance it didn't stop him from being furious about it now. Luckily it was that passion that had made him a God among men on the battlefield in his time. As the level loaded itself and their heroes were actualized on the fictional battlefield, Rider tempered his angry into a cold steel of fury. It was time to see what this Arthur was made of.
Both Clay and Rider bursted out of the gate with all cylinders running, cutting the opposing army to ribbons. Their technique was near perfect, with only a a slight hesitation from Clay because of his inexperience with the game. Their two heroes plowed through soldiers as if they were nothing but a simple obstruction. The game sent waves of them forward but the duo met with only a marginal hindrance. Between them they looked absolutely unstoppable with their skill.
And then they rode...
The game cut to a cinematic of twenty-five brave warriors, riding in formation, charging towards the battle field from off in the distance. Their armour gleamed in the sunlight, pristine as the day it had been forged. The literal paragons of ye olde England came tearing through the battlefield, cutting a swath through the soldiers before them. Clay looked absolutely astounded at the spectacle of the Knights of Justice, which is to say he had a raised eyebrow in interest at the entire cinematic. Rider simply looked focused as ever, waiting impatiently for the pre-rendered scene to end so he could regain control and begin his rampage through the wedge of horsemen. As the formation drew in close to the two heroes, control was given back to the pair and they were left to defend themselves against the oncoming charge.
Clay panicked. He had only been playing the game for less than an hour - he wasn't ready for King Arthur and his knights to come barreling down on them full tilt. Luckily, Rider had no such apprehensions and began to fend off the twenty-five assailants with practiced expertise. Clay could barely erect a guard as his mind stuttered with all the stimuli assaulting his senses. There was just too much to keep track of and not enough time to absorb it all. If they could just keep their attacks at bay for just a little bit longer...
"Clay, you must call your officers back to defend our position!"
He almost didn't realize it was Rider that had given him the suggestion. He was too focused on his Heroic Tension gauge filling up to maximum. If he could fill it, his plan would come to fruition and these knights would be nothing more than a group of ill-fated tin cans. His screen's border was flashing red, indicating that his health had almost been depleted. Rider was struggling to keep them both defended and their officers were no where in sight, keeping the rest of the regular soldiers at bay from the duel taking place in the center of the map. "Just a few more seconds," Clay pleaded to his servant, watching the bar inch towards maximum. Just then, one of the knights broke through their defenses, heading straight for Odysseus. Clay quickly struck out and shattered the helmet from the knight's head. It was then that every moment slowed to a halt, seeing that face once more. There was no mistaking that face, the hair, that beard. It was at that precise moment that Clay knew who Saber was.
Time then returned from the momentary flux and the knight's broadsword came down towards Odysseus. With a strike that strong it would surely kill Clay character and then Rider would be left to face the onslaught by himself. His finger twitched against the shoulder button, ready to press it but he had to wait. His timing could be no less than exact to be able to successfully win this fight. Then, in an instant, the blade came down and Clay hit the shoulder button with the force of a cannon.
CLANG!
That sweet sound was exactly what the pair had wanted to hear - Clay had executed a perfect parry. Saber's digital recreation sprawled backwards as Odysseus began to glow a light blue. Clay shifted his eyes quickly to see his Heroic Tension gauge was filled, ready to unleash his ultimate attack. He chanced another nanosecond to glance at Rider's gauge, seeing it was completely filled as well. The timing was perfect.
"Now Rider!" Clay yelled, pushing the circle button to activate his most deadly attack.
"HEROIC ART - TROJAN HORSE: HIDDEN ARMY OF THE MASTER TACTICIAN!" Odysseus cried out as his glow flared into an aura of surging power.
At that very moment hundreds upon hundreds of soldiers phased into the battlefield around the two opposing heroic factions. Arthur and his knights were surrounded in the worst way possible, unable to fend off the dozens of strikes that were coming from all directions. As they blocked one spear, ten others took its place. Eventually they were forced into the air, being juggled by the weight of attacks being pressed upon them.
"I am with you, boy!" Rider bellowed in response, pressing his own circle button.
"HEROIC ART! - GOD OF WAR: FIERY WARRIOR'S PASSION!" his avatar cried in round, a purple aura with red accents bursting forth from within.
Rider navigated his character through the battlefield who was swinging his massive halberd in a figure-eight as he charged relentlessly forwards. As soon as the avatar touched a knight they were sent hurtling through the air. Their foe was being depleted of forces faster than they could replenish and their heroic leaders were being tossed about like rag dolls. There was nothing the opposing force could do but await their impending destruction at the hands of the duo.
"Rider, converge on Arthur. We're finishing this..."
"I shall be there momentarily!"
As their Heroic Arts were near completion and their Heroic Tension meters nearly reaching zero, the two came at Arthur from opposite ends and quickly pressed circle once again, initiating a Team Heroic Art. While being the most powerful attack in the game, Arthur still possessed Avalon - an artifact that bestowed incredible vitality. Their inputs would have to be perfect for them to achieve victory. But as the attack progressed, their focus endured, lending strength to their avatars. Flip after twist after flourish after strike was played out in the most beautifully crafted scene the two had ever witnessed. The final prompt had them mashing square for their digital lives, which powered them up for a simultaneous strike, the two characters trading sides after the blow with Odysseus pointing his sword skywards and Rider's copycat crouching low with his halberd out to his side. Arthur fell to the ground face first, lying there unmoving before the scene was stamped with a giant "VICTORY!" and the scene ended. They had done it; they had killed the King of Knights!
"YES!!!"
The two shouted uproariously in unison at their accomplishment. Rider was already standing, his arms raised high with every muscle in his body tense with flexing. Clay stayed seated but had pumped his fist into the air, a clear smile on his face. The young man then turned towards Rider, a high five coming straight for him. Caught in the euphoria of victory, the servant reflexively put out his hand to meet Clay's, the thunderous clap sounding even over the game's fanfare.
Then everything went still. The clap of the high five had woken both participants from their revelry and reality began to set back in. Rider and Clay were starring at eachother in utter confusion at what had just transpired. Had they really just done that? The air changed drastically as the two quickly turned away from eachother, crossing their arms. A mask of contempt hid each man's excitement before they spoke to eachother.
"I suppose, for a peasant, you performed adequately," Rider eventually offered, his smug attitude returning.
"Without my help, Rider, you would have been kicked into the dirt once more," Clay responded, his own smugness not being withheld.
"Do you dare to challenge that position!?"
"I don't have to; it's fact!"
The two stared at eachother for a long moment, then tension in the room electrifying the stand-off. Clay was the first to break the deadlock, motioning to leave the room.
"I can't be bothered with these childish games," Clay mentioned, "I have research to attend to."
"This isn't over, boy!" Rider said, hurrying to follow.
The two continued to argue as they both left the room, heading towards the library. So Alberta was left in the room, smiling to herself as she reveled in the events that had just transpired. Before too long she began cleaning up the sheer mess the two had created with their exaggerated motions knocking things over and snacks they had left strewn across the room that had been ordered to satiate the pair. It was good to see both of her masters showing their true colours and getting along, if only for a little while.
"Silly boys and their games..." she said to herself with a giggle.
* * *
"Why are you even following me?" Clay had finally broken the silence after the argument to ask the obvious question that plagued his mind.
"I have research I wish to conduct myself," Rider responded, strolling casually behind Clay. "Contrary to what you may believe, I am not allergic to scholarly endeavors myself. I am interested to see what legends I have left in my wake."
"Fine. Just stay out of my way."
The two marched silently towards the library for the rest of the journey. As they entered the grand parlor of literature, Clay quickly made his way towards a particular shelf in the middle of the stacks. He was quite obviously very familiar with the room from years of reading and research and it proved just as useful now as he deftly pulled five books from different spots on the shelf. With the materials he required, Clay made his way over to the large reading table that was now back in its proper place at the epicenter of the room. Cracking open the first tomb his eyes quickly flitted over the pages, absorbing the text with astounding speed.
Rider, on the other hand, casually peeked around the shelves for anything that would be from his time. While someone like the servant couldn't truly appreciate the importance and vastness of the collection before him, it was still a humbling experience for him. In his age, this many books would never have thought to ever have been collected in one room, let alone written throughout the lands. The task before him eventually proved itself to be far too daunting for even him and he began to open his mouth before Clay cut him off.
"Third stack, top shelf," Clay instructed, pointing towards the appropriate shelving unit without even looking up from his book. "You should find the book you're looking for there."
"A book?" Rider responded, sounding terribly insulted.
"Yes, a book. It also happens to be one of the greatest legends your era has ever produced. Now stop complaining and read. This tends to go much faster when I'm not interrupted to answer inane questions."
Grumbling with indignation, Rider swiftly hopped over to the indicated stack. For a lesser man it may have proven difficult, but the massive servant simply had to raise himself on his tip-toes to reach the book in question. It was a magnificent blood red, leather bound hardcover. Turning it in his hands, Rider inspected its majesty. He thumbed through a couple pages, realizing it must have been an original print that had been rebound over the years to keep its condition. The only thing that bothered him was that the title had been scratched out. The marks left didn't look like normal wear, however, leaving the only conclusion to be that they had been both intentional and recent. Putting that little factoid into the back of his mind, Rider joined his master at the table, opening up his own book and beginning to read through it thoroughly.
Minutes turned to hours and eventually Rider looked up as he was interrupted from his reading. His perturbed face reflected his annoyance at being interrupted just before reading about his grand entrance into the war he had participated in those many centuries ago. His attention turned to Clay who had shifted loudly. The mage had fallen asleep, face planted in the book he was trying to finish. Exhaustion had gotten the better of him and Rider smiled as he looked upon his weary master.
'You are stronger than I had imagined,' Rider thought to himself. 'Maybe a peasant can become a warrior. It would certainly make for an interesting story...'
Rider looked around for a moment before his eyes met a blanket folded on the table. It had been undoubtedly left by one of the maids of the household for his stubborn partner. Unfolding it quietly, he draped it over the unsuspecting Clay, tucking it around him before deciding to leave his master in peace. He didn't bother opening the door, simply phasing out of existence, the only remnants being some tiny sparkles of mana. Maybe he would patrol the grounds tonight - for Diana's sake, of course.
'Maybe this will not be as horrible as I had first imagined...'
