petty lies to everyone, in the hopes that i could be someone
heaven talks, but not to me, and now i wonder if it's meant to be
desolation, tragedy, is there nothing good in me?
i've let me down, down, down, down
imagine dragons - release
Alone yet connected, laying out bright red, unspoken comfort in violet, green, blue
Dark rooms and strange figures, boredom, frustration, a fragile love shattered, a shadow in the xxxxs
Curved blades clashing above a burning city, blurs of motion, a molten sky above
A meeting of xxx and xxxxx eyes, muddy words spoken, a flash of feathers in the flame
Pooled blood and a xxxx of xxxxx, alerts pinging, strange letters, "a clean break"
Enormous gears turning, cogs, blistering heat, gaming the system for her, red-orange death below
Meaningless evil, a friend's instructions double-edged, choking on 'his' own blood, blank white eyes
"COOLK1D" cool yeah xxxxxxxs stay cool "NUM3R4LS OF TH3 BL1ND PROPH3TS" she's crazy so what
Vinyl in his head, a black horizon cracked like glass, echoes in the xxxxxxxx of lost souls
god damn it xxxx died again cant be so fuckin reckless with that thing oh well back to the xxxxx again
"im not a xxxx"
"xxxx is"
"xxx was"
"im not"
"...ugu, th... Mai... n't find Sa... please wa-"
Your eyes snap open and, for some reason, you're shaking, trembling. Just barely, but it's there. Instinct is screaming danger fight get the .s.w.o.-get a gun a knife anything, and then a familiar warmth and smooth, naked skin pressing against your body, fingers stroking your scalp, more substance and less muscle. Iri, not Maiya. Red eyes, white hair disheveled. The scent of metal from somewhere nearby...
Maiya in the doorway, gun drawn without a finger on the trigger. Your wife reluctantly lets you drag yourself upright. It's harder than it should be, as if something's weighing you down from the inside.
"What's happening? How did... No, it's nothing. What went wrong." Even as you're asking the question, you feel... off, like a part of you went missing in the night, like you should be able to reach out towards something intangible and pull it from the empty air.
"Your Servant's gone missing," she says, and you just sigh.
"He's probably in spirit form. Hell, he could be in the room right now."
"No, I don't think so. I happened to pass him in the hall, and asked precisely the question; why was he still materialized simply to wander the castle?" You give her a look and she nods. Yeah, she knows exactly why you've only spoken to the damned kid once and apparently the two of you share an intolerance towards that attitude. "He said, to quote word for word: 'Girl I am realer than Kraft Mayo and I ain't changin' jack shit, ever. Sir Kills-A-Lot can suck it up and deal with blowin' some extra MP."
"You checked everywhere." Do you really even need to ask?
"Of course. Several times. He's just too fast. As soon as he answered, he was a red blur and then... gone. Security footage didn't catch anything. At that point I decided it best to let you know."
"He's on the roof," you mutter. "Somewhere up there, at least." Maiya waits for a response, while Irisviel, holding a blanket over her chest, looks at you with slightly widened eyes. "I'm sure you checked everything there already, but it's where he'd go." After a short pause during which you wonder just why exactly you're so sure of that - and you are sure of it - your mercenary partner nods again and quietly leaves the room. Before you can even stand up and get dressed, Iri locks eyes with you, worried.
"You've been crying," she says, and when you brush a hand across your cheek, it comes away wet.
"No," you say, more quietly than usual, and you haven't, despite the evidence. You know yourself too well to be wrong. "I think somebody else has."
Neither of you has anything more to say about that.
Alone yet connected, exhaling bright blue, understanding in red, violet, green
Gold everywhere, xxxxxxs spinning in her shining palm, a last message through the xxxx
Strange machines, watched by a trusted friend, sequence broken, "Son, I am so proud of you"
Dark clouds, shadows, howling wind, strange allies, creatures of pitch smashed into crystal
xxxxxx pushing and pushing but hey at least some8ody is, right? right?
Green lightning, snarling fang and muscle, ready to fi - cold ice cold gushing red
"why not just, let the xxxxxx xxxxxxxx work its gloomy majyyks, and slip away into nothing with -"
Black sky above, checkerboard earth below, and the wind begins to gather
"as far as i may think i've come... i still don't know what i'm doing"
oh, everyone... died, no, not everyone, is that xxxx? does it even matter this time? what should i feel?
"F1X TH1S"
Blinking, blurry. An unfamiliar ceiling... wait, what? No, you know this ceiling reasonably well. Don't you? Yeah, definitely, you've spent plenty of time staring at it while lying in bed, waiting, thinking. And why does it feel like you've lost something? It's also the middle of the night, to go by the lighting. Sitting up, you rub your eyes halfway clear, and then a slightly crackly voice echoes from the other side of your room.
"Why couldn't you put the bunny back in the box?"
God damn it. One day and you're already pretty much fed up with this Servant. This feels less like a war and more like babysitting a really, really weird kid. A kid who's apparently also a god. Or not? Your chest aches just thinking about it.
Your chest? That... doesn't make any sense. Shouldn't it be your head? This is a dull pain, an old pain, like a scar from a serious injury a long, long time ago flaring up. It's almost familiar. The pain's gone almost as soon as you've thought about it, but that sense of familiarity... That sticks around.
"Rider, can you turn that terrible movie down? I was trying to sleep." The Servant looks at you and shakes his head, looking at you knowingly for... some reason.
"Dude, I promise you that if you watch this movie, your life will never be the same." No. That is not happening. You will never watch 'Con Air' with this idiot, not if your life depends on it.
"How many times do I have to watch that damn thing before you stop bothering me about it?"
There's a long, awkward pause as both of you realize exactly what you just said and how little sense it made. That was definitely not the sentence that had been in your head. Why the hell would you ever have watched that movie? It's the worst. The stupid running subplot about the stuffed rabbit, the overwrought dramatic reunion at the end... at the... the end of a movie you've never seen before.
Rider looks you in the eye, not saying a word. For the first time since you summoned him, the look on his face doesn't suit his personality at all. He just looks sad. No, not sad exactly, so much as tired.
"Man," he says, finally, "I really hoped this dream stuff wouldn't start happening for a while." When you look at him sharply he just shrugs. "Dude, I paid some attention to the, like, Being a Servant 101 thing. Jeez. I'm not stupid." Does that mean... you're dreaming things about him, or his life? It's probably something you'd know if you hadn't needed to rush into all of this, but there's also something... sort of off about his speech for a moment, something almost like guilt. Whatever, there are more important things to figure out.
"Rider," you say, more quietly than you'd actually meant to, "who were you, really?" He's quiet again, which you've already figured out is not normal for him in the least.
"I'm the Heir of Breath. Man, where do I even start? I played a game with my friends, and it's kind of a long story but I guess I -"
He stops dead, mutes the television. Everything is deathly quiet, or it should be, but there's a sort of rushing, tapping sound coming from outside the window. Dragging yourself up to look, you realize it's just rain and feel a little bit like an idiot. It is raining pretty hard, though. Just goes to show that weather forecasts are shite everywhere you look. You're about to lean out and look around, make sure there aren't any clothes left out to dry, when Rider grabs you by the arm and hauls you away.
"What the hell are you doing?" You're groggy and irritable and really have no time for this crap. Rider shuts the window, dulling the ambient sound from outside. There's a tension to him that's completely new, and when he looks at you, he's deadly serious.
"The rain. I didn't feel it coming, and the nearest storm's blowing over another city right now. Kind of fast actually, but the clouds there don't seem to really mind, so I guess that's fine. But this didn't blow in at all, I would have felt it coming. It just started raining really hard out of nowhere."
"So someone's doing this deliberately," you say. "Why, though? What do they gain from it? And what kind of mage wastes time on making it rain? It's just water -"
Only now do you feel it, a sense of something so colossal that you didn't even notice it for a little while, like you're so small and insignificant by comparison that you never realized it was there. You can't believe someone could actually do anything on this scale, if at all.
"It's a bounded field... but why is it so easy to sense, even if I know it's there... and why make it rain?"
"I have no idea, but the Breeze is pretty clear on one thing. It's raining everywhere in this city, and the clouds aren't moving at all. This field thing is here to make sure that rain falls on every part of the whole place it possibly can." Rider sighs. "It's easy to notice, like you said. Too easy. So that means..." And suddenly you get it.
"It's a challenge from another Servant," you finish. "They're out there and this is their way of saying 'Find me if you can', isn't it. Damn it. Rider, don't you do... I don't know, some kind of windy thing? Can you blow the storm away?"
"Yeah, I do. And I can't do anything about it. I've been trying from the second I realized something was wrong."
"So they're blocking any attempts at interfering with the field somehow. That's not ominous or anything." God, you're tired. Too tired, but whatever, it's been a long day... night... thing. Wandering back over to your bed, you flop down, yawning. Rider turns his head to follow you and sort of winces.
"Uh, sorry about using like half of your mana or prana or whatever it's called," he says.
"Half of it? How did you burn through half of it barely doing anything?" Rider inhales through his nose, breathes out through his mouth, not exactly a sigh but something similar.
"Weeeeeeeell, when I said I couldn't do anything to the weather... I was sort of putting as much into that as I actually can without using any of my Phantom whatevers."
Was that... plural? You have so many questions and you really need to make him remember the actual terms for everything in this war, but it'll have to wait until tomorrow, because you're already mostly asleep.
What is it that you wanted from this war? An answer, and that truly is the extent of your 'desires'. The Grail itself means nothing, and a dim part of you thinks that you should be amused at yourself for being a participant in such a ritual, when to you it is only an excuse to find the man who might have found answers of his own; an enigmatic and chaotic man claiming to fight for his wallet, a ruse entirely obvious to the one person who bothered to pay attention.
Something you did not want from this war was to summon an actual demon as your Servant, as Assassin no less, the least dignified possible outcome. Is this a strange test of faith from God, or merely an ironic joke at the expense of a hollow soul?
"Kireeeeeeeei, your friend is totally l8. Can't we just get out there and start winning already? This war is 8asically over anyway, 8ut come on, it doesn't have to be 8oring." Assassin leans back against her chosen pew, tapping her foot against the floor in odd patterns, following a rhythm you haven't bothered to memorize. You tilt your head in her direction, watching eight pupils meet your natural two before her mismatched eyes roll.
"The war has hardly begun. I do not follow your line of reasoning, if there is one at all." Hellish fangs spread into a psychotic grin and for a brief moment you're entirely certain she is going to kill you on the spot and feast on your corpse. You return her bloodlust with eyes that lack any interest whatsoever.
"Ugh, I h8 the way you think! You're not supposed to just stand there when some8ody's halfway pretending to want to murder you. Did your lusus drop you on your head when you were a wriggler or something? And the war is over 8ecause it's a game, and Vriska Serket never loses at games." She flicks an oddly-shaped die into the air with a clawed thumb and catches it like one would a coin. It would irritate you how casually Assassin volunteers her true name, but frankly, you're not convinced it actually matters, as you doubt very much that any other Master or Servant could gain any useful knowledge from it. "So come on, ditch that loser and let's go kill someone already. It's not like the ones fighting are even alive, and the 8itches who summoned them knew what they were getting into anyway."
"We will not move hastily, Assassin, nor will we abandon the alliance carefully established between myself and the 'loser' you have mentioned, who happens to be a friend and my teacher of three years." The devil-girl groans and begins pacing the church, an absurdly long pair of braids trailing along in her wake. Candlelight paints the walls and floor with the shadow of her horns.
It may be peculiar, but for some reason, when you summoned her the first thing you noticed was her worryingly normal attire. Blue jeans and a black t-shirt with a sign of the Zodiac emblazoned in deep cerulean do not an ancient hero make. You didn't feel any better when you asked her for details pertaining to her Noble Phantasms, and she simply cocked her head to the side and grinned wider than anyone or anything you want to see again in your life.
"You know, you've got 8 rows of these 8ench things here. Maybe we won't get along so 8ad after all, huh?" Assassin waits for a response and does not receive one. Then she is standing right in front of you, eye to eye, which is slightly less intimidating when you consider that to actually reach that height, she is standing on one of the pews. "Okay, woooooooow, the 8iggest issue I see here is how fucking 8oring you are, 'Master'", this last delivered with a terrible glint to it that more or less screams 'I dare you to test just how far you can go while keeping me as your servant.'
"There is little to tell. I have been many things and many people. I have performed my duties as a son of God, I have destroyed heretics without mercy as an Executor, and though it pains me to say it, I have indeed become a Magus in pursuit of the Grail."
"Magic sucks, right?" Her breath right in your face is cold and carries a carnivore's stench. "I pitch-d8ted this wizard-y douche8ag for a while, 8ut he ended up not even 8eing worth h8ing properly. 8ut then he died and I didn't even have to keep 8locking him every time he tried to talk to me! It's gr8. Things are so much easier when every8ody you're sick of is dead and you're not." Assassin pauses, and then seems, uncharacteristically both for a demon and an entity with the personality you've managed to decode so far, lost in memory for a few seconds. Something changes in her eyes, a hint of all-too-human regret for something showing through. You wonder what it is to feel regret. Perhaps the real demon here is you. "And then sometimes... you're dead, and the people you care a8out aren't, and even when they are, nothing's ever the same. I guess that's just life, though. And death! It's definitely 8oth."
"Is there something you regret, Assassin?" A droplet of black heat forms at the bottom of your heart. "Something you have done wrong?" The look on her face is both infuriated and ever so slightly afraid. Without even knowing why, you press on, feeling another drop settle inside of you. "Something you can never take back with your own power? Is weakness your reason for seeking whatever wish it is that you came here for?" The vaguest smile appears on your face, and the motion, involuntary and unexpected, is not false at all. No, it is more real than your very soul. "Could it be that the thing you truly regret is yourself?"
The cracks that your body's impact leave in the church's east wall can be repaired without too much effort, but it is not her fist that causes you harm; it is the three parallel marks of clawed fingers whipping first across your face before the more dramatic blow that seem at least slightly more pressing. Clotting swiftly, they will heal without issue, and they will scar. It is entirely possible that you have just become an aesthetically interesting person.
Wiping blood from your eyes with a cloth kept, along with many useful items, beneath your vestments, you sigh and bring yourself to your feet. Assassin whistles, perhaps in appreciation for the endurance of her Master.
A series of carefully orchestrated raps against a door in the church's rear draws your attention. Your partner in subterfuge and magic has arrived at last. Tapping a knuckle twice against the old wood on your side of the portal, you step back as it creaks open. A proud Magus enters, along with... a teenage boy, clad in gray shorts, a lighter gray shirt with a deep green and stylized skull etched into its center, a belt with two handguns attached, and a darker green jacket.
Your teacher looks from your strange Servant to your still-bleeding face and sighs.
"I suppose you've had some issue getting along with your Servant as well, then," he says, frustration and exhaustion lining his features. The boy at his side lets out a hearty laugh that seems out of proportion to both his age and size, clapping a hand jovially on his Master's shoulder, not seeming to notice the Magus's irritation.
"A stand-up fucking gent playing the role of the harried loner. Classic Tokiomi," the Servant says, voice dripping with what appears to be liquid Britain as well as far too earnest friendly mirth, and you begin to truly understand that this is going to be a long, long war.
[THE AUTHOR SPEAKS: This chapter was actually 'finished' a while ago, but I got hung up on a pacing issue and ended up wasting a lot of time until I realized, "Hey, wait, there's no law saying a chapter has to be 5,000 words or more, and I have a great note to end a chapter on literally right here." Hopefully I'll keep these things in mind in the future and not just... sit on a perfectly good chapter for well over a week. Sigh.
Well, that's Saber, Archer, Rider, Assassin, and Berserker introduced. We'll see more about Archer next chapter, and should be be meeting Lancer and Caster. At some point I will be posting the Servants' sheets, but when I do, large amounts of them will be filled in with "?" until information comes out in the story itself. Anyway, see you next time for Those Who Grasp At Heaven's Gates (3), which should conclude this short prologue-ish first arc.]
