It was night. The wind blew gently, a cool breeze accompanying the silence broken only by the very rare car passing through the street at such hours. The clouds drove away from the moon as if to let the earth bask in its cold yet smooth and welcoming light. And it was this very same light the one that entered through the windows of a hall inside a house- although calling it a mansion wouldn't be too far off the edge either. The room itself was rather unremarkable, as bare as you can get and devoid of furniture in its entirety, the curtains adorning the windows being the only slightly visually stimulating thing about it.
Most peculiar about this room, however, was the sole man that laid still in its floor, an abandoned tray of food mere inches away from him. Although perhaps it would be better suited to call him a hollow husk of one, since the truth is that his form barely resembled that of one any longer. His skin was pale and fragile, looking as if it would tear itself apart if even the slightest extension of his limbs was made. Throughout his entire body veins popped out despite the rather worrying lack of muscle as if he had not eaten anything in weeks. His hair only showed traces of his usual black color, now painted almost entirely a sickly white. One of his eyes, too, had changed color to a cloudy grey not unlike those of the blind.
Such person contemplated his hand, a pattern composed of three distinct red marks engraved in the back of said limb, seemingly lost within his own thoughts. Thoughts that were interrupted by an old, almost smug and snarky voice.
"It seems you made it. Even if just barely so." He looked towards were the voice was coming from, slowly changing to a sitting position as a small frame made his way towards him. An old man made his way towards him, aided by a walking stick. His body was nothing but wrinkly skin and bone. He had no hair to be seen, and his face specially resembled a skull out of all things as his eyes' sclera was colored black. Despite all this to most he wouldn't look threatening at all, with his fragile posture and visible disability to move.
"If the Grail's chosen you then that means that you've made some progress as a mage. I'll give you that much, Kariya. But I'll say, you look like hell."
And yet there was no creature Kariya feared the most.
"Does your left leg still work?" He cruelly remarked, enjoying his suffering as he poked at it with his cane, causing the man in the floor to contort in pain. As he clenched his muscles something visibly moved inside his skin crawling through his veins and expanding them as they moved.
"Hahaha, don't get too mad. If the Crest Worms inside you get worked up they'll eat you inside out." The old man said. "Either way, I'd give you a month at best."
"That's more than enough time…" Kariya murmured as the beings inside him calmed down and stopped their painful crawl. In response, the other merely chuckled again.
"Heh. I found the perfect relic for one such as you. Consider it a present for surviving a year's worth of training. Don't let your father's kindness go to waste." Zouken Matou said as he turned around and made his way out.
Kariya then slowly stood up, following his father around the house as they made their way to the basement. 'Just a little bit more. 'He thought. 'Just a little bit more and you will have saved her.' His left leg limping across the floor product of his own weakness combined with his progenitor's sadistic nature. 'It doesn't matter what happens to me. As long as Sakura is away from that monster, I'll be happy. '
It didn't take long for both of them to reach the basement, it's sheer size making it look more like a catacomb rather than anything else. It was dark and damp in there, the whole place strangely emanating an uncomfortable warmth. From what little light there was one could see that the walls were filthy and covered by a mucus-light substance.
They walked down the stairs until they reached the very base, a summoning circle made out of blood already prepared. A few inches away from the circle itself, opposite to Kariya and atop of a table serving as pedestal, laid the catalyst of choice meant to summon Lancelot, the strongest knight of the round table.
"Your remember the summoning spell, don't you?" Came the words from his father's mouth, not putting past his son's ineptity to have forgotten the very basics of the summoning ritual.
"Yeah, I do."
"Very well. However, I'll have you add some extra lines to the incantation." At this he stared at his father with a puzzled expression. He continued "Because you aren't quite on the same level as the other masters in terms of magecraft, your servant's quality and base abilities may reflect that fact. This means that we'll have to pick the Servant class with the least requirements out of them all: the Berserker class." He paused for a moment to let the words sink in before continuing. "It's modifiers allow us to boost the same abilities that would otherwise appear lackluster because of you. As such, I want you to add the affinity of said class to the servant you summon."
"…Whatever." Was the answer full of bitterness and resentment he gave to his father, glaring at him. "I'll summon whatever class or servant you ask me. As long as you free Sakura once I hand you over the grail, I'll do anything you ask."
In response Zouken simply smiled. "As I thought. Well, feel free to get going with the ritual. Now's the best time to carry it out after all, and it's not like there's much more any of us can do to give you better odds in such a short timeframe."
Kariya didn't dignify him with any words thrown back his way this time, instead focusing on the matter at hand. He extended his arm and started gathering mana into the summoning circle, the worms inside him not wasting a second and eating up his magic circuits.
"Let silver and steel be the essence.
Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the base.
Let red be the color at which I pay homage to.
Let there be raised a wall against the alighted wind.
Let the four cardinal gates close.
Come forth from the Crown and follow the forked road leading to the kingdom."
As Kariya uttered these words and wind started circulating faster and faster, product of the gathering mana swirling at the center of the circle, he couldn't help but pray. 'Please. If there's someone listening.'
"Heed my words.
My will creates your body, and your sword creates my destiny.
If you heed the Grail's call and obey my will and reason,
Then answer me!"
The circle started glowing, no doubt starting to answer his call. Numerous veins started popping all around his body, the strain of even this relatively simple ritual proving itself known to Kariya. Still, he continued. 'I beg you.'
"I hereby swear that I shall be all the good in the world.
That I shall defeat all evil in the world.
But let thine eyes be clouded with chaos.
Thou, who are trapped in a cage of madness.
And I, who holds thy chains!"
He could feel his father's look on him, smiling in evident glee at his own offspring's suffering and effort. Blood started leaking from his only functional eye, the whole basement seeming to be vibrating due to the sheer amount of condensed magical energy filling the air.
"Thou Seventh Heaven, clad in the three great words of power,
Come forth from the circle of binding, Guardian of the Scales!"
'Please, let me save my niece.'
A flash of white inundated the room, illuminating the whole facility and momentarily blinding both of its occupants. And for an instant that's all they saw. Pure light emanating from the circle, as if staring directly at the sun. In the next moment however, a figure could be seen. Broad, muscular. It wore a magnificent suit of armor, that seemed to reflect the very grace and nobility that composed his whole being. A weapon was being held in one of his hands- a spear not unlike those used in jousts long ago. It seemed to emanate a shine of its own, and even for the blinded and amateur eyes of Kariya it clearly was a weapon made by the finest of craftsmen, perhaps even by God himself. An aura of power seemingly emanated from him, and the man almost fell the need to kneel not in weakness, but in respect for such a powerful figure.
"Enchanter. I have answered your call. My true name is…" The figure asked in a voice that sounded like thunder, clearly imposing itself as the most powerful individual in the whole Matou manor- nay, the whole Grail War.
For a moment, the hollow of a man allowed himself to feel hopeful. This was clearly no ordinary heroic spirit. Even among legends, there surely was no one capable of replicating this very shine and sense of power. There was no shield to resist his spear and there was no weapon to penetrate his armor. And for that fleeting instant, Kariya actually considered winning not as a miracle, but as an actual likely outcome. Perhaps someone had indeed heard his prayers. Perhaps fate was on his side. Perhaps he would be able to save Sakura after all.
And then the light faded, and the illusion came crashing down like a house of cards.
Gone was the shining and noble armor, now replaced by a half assed coat of mail with some gauntlets, boots and helmet that laid view to the face of the heroic spirit, who bore a long spiked nose and a mustache that would be the envy of Salvador Dali. Gone was his masterfully crafted spear, looking capable of reducing mountains to dust, now replaced by a dirty, rusty and ordinary jousting one. Gone was the broad and muscular frame, now replaced by a thin and weak figure which was evidently too large for the armor he was wearing, as the latter half of his arms and legs could be seen naked in between the coat of mail and gauntlets and boots.
Gone too, was the thunderous voice that he seemingly spoke with mere moments ago, now replaced with a squeaky and old…
"…My true name is Don Quixote de la Mancha! Fear not, for I am surely the one that will win the Holy Grail! Now, which one of you two is supposed to be my squire?"
Curiously, the sudden urge to kneel remained. However it was not because of some grand feeling of power or respect coming from his servant. No, it instead came from the wave of despair that cursed throughout his entire being as his loss became a matter of fact to him, all the while his father's laugh could be heard throughout the entire house.
A full day had passed since that fateful moment. After being promptly kicked out of his father's housen by said individual shortly after his botching of the summoning ritual, Kariya was now sitting on the floor of his new base of operations, an abandoned building on the outskirts of the city, trying to piece together something that at least resembled a strategy. The room itself was what you would expect: barebones, filthy and empty with the exception of some shards of glass from the broken windows and the graffitied walls.
"Hmm, I'll say. Despite the rather unseemly manner I was received upon my summoning, I'm rather happy with the newfound lodging that the king so gracefully provided us with, Sancho. A castle of our own, to take refuge in between our glorious battles. If I'm being perfectly honest with you, I'm not used to remaining in a single fortress for too long; I am an errant knight after all. However it would be very unchivalrous of us to refuse what His majesty provided us with. You know, this very situation reminds me of that one time when…"
At the very least his servant didn't seem to mind this precarious situation at all. That was one of the only pros he could make out of this situation; Berserker wasn't some high and mighty asshole that deemed himself better and above everyone else, that much was clear.
Another positive, his Madness Enhancement didn't take his ability to reason away. That was good, right? The fact that his servant could actually talk like a normal human being and communicate with him effectively was a good thing, right?
"…And then I heroically defeated that dreaded group of thieves that had been terrorizing and pillaging the town. Aaah, Sancho, I wish you could've seen that. It happened right before I met you, you know? That just goes to show that even outnumbered one must not mess with the Errant Knight of La Mancha. Tragically however, the thieves were working under the command of a dreadful enchanter who put a spell on me, making me fall on a deep slumber on the spot. When I woke up, the thieves were gone. If only I could get my hands on that cowardly deceiver he would truly know the fearsome force that is Don Quixote, the one that…"
The fact that Don Quixote had essentially monologued for the past three hours non stop was making him reconsider that last one.
He checked his parameters for the fifth time in hopes that he had perhaps missed a skill or misread something. He sadly didn't. Aside from his actually pretty impressive Luck and Noble Phantasm rate, Berserker was worse than average in everything. Strength, Agility, Mana, Endurance. All of the lowest possible category.
His skills were no different. Madness Enhancement was quickly proving more deteriorating to his own mental state than Quixote's, and the boosts it provided were virtually non-existent as well. The rest of his skills, while perhaps useful if paired with a competent and talented magus, were completely wasted with him of all people as a master.
It was precisely for his lack of resources that Kariya had opted for the Berserker class. And Don Quixote wasn't wasn't known for his cunning intellect or his fighting prowess, effectively making both of them completely useless on a direct fight.
And lastly, his main Noble Phantasm. In theory, it could possibly be a game changer for any fights they had, as the boosts it provided towards his parameters were actually pretty big and could help him win against the more powerful servants in the war. The thing was, the sheer cost of mana it needed to even launch it was enormous that he didn't think he could possibly provide it even if the damned worms inside of him were to eat him up until only his bones remained.
…however there was but one silver lining. A very vague one, but one that could perhaps give him the chance he needed to save his niece. The fact that that its cost and power were respectively inversely and directly proportional to how many people believed he was a real knight.
Sighing, Kariya stood up from the corner on which he was sitting and tried to talk with Berserker, who was still spiraling down into one of his incomprehensible ramblings.
"…And then the jester was never heard of again! Oh, I still have a good belly laugh whenever I remember that particular story!"
"Hey, Berserker."
All of a sudden, his servant's seemingly jovial tone was replaced by total silence, as he glared at his master. The latter of which also didn't say anything for a moment, rather taken aback by the sudden turn in Quixote's character. He decided to prove forward slightly. "D-did I say something wro-"
"Oh don't give me that! How dare you call me that dreadful nickname?!" The aforementioned servant answered with a burst of anger seemingly out of nowhere. Kariya could only muster a confused 'huh?' before being interrupted again.
"Ever since you've summoned me you have always referred to me with that dreadful nickname! 'Berserker this, Berserker that', as if I were a beast! I still have no clue as to why that blasted Holy Grail decided to put ME of all people inside THAT class, seeing as to how fitting the three Knight classes are for me!"
"Then how do you even want me to refer to you in front of the other masters?" Kariya answered with a half exhausted half exasperated and another half desperate tone and look on his face.
"Something more fitting for a gentleman such as I, obviously. After all, I doubt that I am the only fair knight that has been summoned for this war." His tone got visibly giddier as he uttered those last words. "It would only show inexperience and foolishness on the other enchanter's hands. How about you present me as 'The Noble and Powerful Don Quixote de la Mancha'? Now that's sure to leave an impression on the others."
The pale man blinked, incredulous "…Are you seriously suggesting that I should announce your true identity to everyone?"
"But of course not Sancho! That doesn't even cover bare minimum etiquette! Dear god, I could've sworn that I've already taught you basic manners. We'll need to have a proper introduction letter for you to read out loud before making my entrance and a nice instrument to allow our receivers to properly identify the quality of the individual they are dealing with, that being a proper gentleman of course. Now don't fret just yet my friend, for I can surely lend you a hand in writing that…"
Unknowingly to the talkative spirit, he had answered the question Kariya intended to ask him from the beginning. Not that that particular topic was on his mind, as suddenly his attention was diverted towards the three red marks on the back of his hand. 'He is joking. That's the only explanation.' Kariya thought as a small giggle escaped his lips. 'Of course he is not going to reveal his true identity the moment he meets other heroic spirits. That'd be suicide after all. Yes, he is definitely kidding right now.' His laughter ever so slightly grew in volume as his vision blurred from the sudden watering of his eyes, his servant too self absorbed in his own voice to actually notice his master's state.
Hello dear reader. I hope that this first chapter / prologue / thing was of your liking. This fic was born product of my frustration at Nasu in regards to why isn't Don Quixote a servant already given his sheer importance on literature in general at a global level. As I thought about this plotbunny more and more however, an actual interesting story started to form. I won't spoil too much, but if you know what Fate/Zero addressed and what Don Quixote represents then you should in theory have an idea of where I'm going with this fic.
As for stats, abilities and Noble Phantasms: I already have a character sheet done and you may find it on the very next chapter.
Thanks for reading and I hope you are in for a ride.
