The tower his princess lived in had many floors. Each floor had only a few rooms, dedicated to related things. On the dining floor were the kitchen facilities, where invisible sprites prepared meals. On the music floor was the music room, where all the instruments were kept, and the grand ballroom with a great stage for musicians. On the sleeping floor there were seven bedrooms. Why seven? No one knew. The library floor held many reading rooms… and a shockingly denuded library, ransacked long ago. The books left were a ramshackle collection of fiction and basic magecraft. And as for the bathing floor, well…
One thing this place has is beautiful facilities, Sigurd thought as he rested his arms on the stone edge of the pool, letting his head fall back into a custom headrest. That headrest was above a smaller pool of water, designed like you would see in a salon. Small, soft hands gently worked lather into his hair, removing the stench and grime. I probably shouldn't be letting her do this for me. Yet, Sigurd enjoyed it too much to refuse. It brought him back to the days in his castle, when he had servants and handmaidens to attend to his needs.
"Is everything feeling better?" his princess asked as she lifted a small nozzle and directed a stream of water at his hair, removing the lather and every speck of dirt. Sigurd lazily opened his eyes, gazing up into her concerned face.
"Yes, it's fine now," he said before reaching up to pat her hand. "It was nothing to begin with, princess." Just a few broken ribs. Really, that was nothing. Her hand caressed the back of his neck, checking her implanted rune.
"That's good. It seemed rather weak," Esme murmured and Sigurd nodded in agreement. She began to gently massage his temples, which was a great pleasure. "It must have been a monster from a story that got summoned as a Servant. Not even the mad enhancements could make it strong enough."
"Hm, yes." That sounded likely to him. "Must have been a regional story of little note," Sigurd said drowsily. If Fafnir were summoned as a Servant he'd be infinitely fiercer than that! "Well, all to the good. I was worried about Berserker." They could be so damned unpredictable and the fact that they killed their Masters actually made it worse. After all, what did the Master have to lose? Speaking of which. "Wonder what happened to the Master." That was concerning, that person still had to be alive. Esme was silent for a moment.
"I worry about that too. How weak it was… it might have been killing it's Master slower than usual." Sigurd opened his eyes with a frown. Esme took the non-verbal cue with ease, taking her hands away. Sigurd pulled himself out of the headrest before settling down in the water up to his neck. Ah, so hot, it was bliss.
"Could be right. We'll have to watch out for that," Sigurd said, reflecting on it. If the Master of Berserker was still about they'd need to steal a new Servant. Hell, trading in the Berserker card for anything else would be a step up. "Although at least we're immune." One positive to his princess being trapped in her tower was that it was a demon-damned deathtrap. ANY Servant who dared intrude was utterly, completely doomed. Any Master was doomed even faster. There is a reason we need the Grail to free her from this accursed place.
"Unless someone can cut your connection to me from outside," Esme said softly, gazing at him with intent eyes. Sigurd blinked at the thought. Could that even be done? "If that happened, I would have no way to get you back." A chill ran down his spine at the thought. "Be wary of Caster." …
"Is this an omen, my princess?" Sigurd asked softly and Esme closed her eyes for a moment, as if seeking something inside herself.
"I… don't know… but I think it is. Oh, I'm done with your glasses," Esme changed the subject, which was frankly a relief. "I have them right here?" She pulled them out of her pocket and offered the glasses to him. Sigurd accepted his crystallized wisdom, looking at it curiously. It was mostly unchanged except for tiny, almost invisible etchings in the frame and what looked like little snowflakes in the corners. Examining those snowflakes, Sigurd found they were complicated beyond belief… just like a real snowflake. (he'd examined snowflakes before through his glasses. Incredible things)
"What does it do?" he asked, loathe to put them on in the bath. They'd fog right up. Esme smiled before explaining.
"They let you see the kind of things a Master sees, the nature of the opponent you face, their power levels, things like that." Ah, excellent! "It's based on seeing the numbers so it might look odd at first, but you'll get used to it. It only works on other Servants." Hm… get used to it… Sigurd frowned. How long would that take? "You can try it out tomorrow night and get a feel for it. Archer wants another alliance." Oh did he now?
"His Master got in touch with you then," Sigurd murmured to himself. Archer's Master no doubt thought he was dealing with a cowardly young girl and they'd done all they could to encourage that mistake. "Heh." Sigurd had a feeling that Archer would try to assassinate his Master. A small but very wicked smile curled his lips. It would be so pleasant if Archer fed himself to the tower, it really would.
"Mmm hmm, through the crystal. I hope he hasn't realized its' nature," Esme murmured and Sigurd shrugged. If he had, that would point directly to the Numerology department, the fucking poseurs. They weren't supposed to be in the Grail War so it would be odd but Sigurd couldn't see how it would cause them problems.
"It's not like he's going to report you to your parents," Sigurd said and was amused as his Master bit her lower lip. "Is that really what you're worried about? Truly, he's not going to send a protest to the Clock Tower!" That would be like admitting failure and the man surely wouldn't do THAT!
"I just can't help but worry. If my parents realize I have you they might alter the tower," Esme said and Sigurd knew she had a point. Right now, he was safe from the tower because of the contract. It registered him as part of Esme's magic and therefore, a non-issue. If the tower could be altered to exclude him, Sigurd would be in mortal peril. And yet. "Still, I think that kind of fix would take weeks." Yes, indeed. The tower was a freakish accident in the first place and her parents had just inherited it, not made it. "Well, I should leave you alone for a while. Let me know when you're done?"
"Yes, my princess," Sigurd said instantly and had the pleasure of seeing her go a bit pink. Esme left the great bath and Sigurd sighed as he stretched out, letting himself float on the water. Such a large pool and the magics kept it nice and hot. They also constantly cycled and purified it, so it was always ready for a bath. If only such a thing had existed when he was alive…
When he had his fill of the bath, Sigurd pulled himself out and found a fluffy towel, drying himself off. That was the other reason Esme had left, so she wouldn't accidentally see him naked. They'd already made that mistake once and his poor Master had gone beet red before bolting and nearly slipping on wet tiles! Sigurd smiled fondly in remembrance. Ah, such an innocent maiden.
Materializing his clothing and armor, Sigurd picked up his glasses and set them on his face. Hmm, no difference yet. He'd have to wait to examine Archer tomorrow. Sigurd looked forward to it, he was sure he would see something fascinating. Leaving the bathroom behind, he went to search for Esme.
Sigurd found her in the music room. His princess was sitting in front of a piano, gazing away dreamily as her hands moved easily over the keys. Sigurd closed his eyes for a moment as just listened to the music. Was this something she had memorized, or original, something of her own? Sigurd knew it could be either.
I might like to learn to play an instrument, Sigurd thought as he opened his eyes, turning his gaze to the walls. Instruments were neatly displayed there, silver and gold, things he knew and things that were completely alien to him. If we succeed, I will have the time. He'd never wished for a second life before and didn't really want one now, but Sigurd would do it for his duties' sake. And if that was so, he'd take the opportunity to do things he'd never done before.
The music could go on forever, though, so Sigurd cleared his throat. His Master started, her notes falling into disarray before she looked at him with wide eyes.
"I'm done with my bath," Sigurd said gently and Esme blushed. Embarrassed that she'd forgotten the world again? Likely, but that was what you ought to do when making music, Sigurd thought. It wasn't like lunch. "You should have yours." Bathing was one of her great pleasures. The waters eased the strain of her magecraft and soothed her soul. Esme rose from her seat at the piano.
"Oh, thank you so much!" she said with a brilliant smile before darting out. Sigurd smiled after her before regarding the piano. Should he…? Well, why not? Walking around the piano he lifted the cover and fished inside, pulling out an old and battered copy of Basic Piano Primer. It was what Esme had used, so long ago, when she'd taught herself to play. Smiling softly, Sigurd took a seat and rested his hands on the keys.
He had a bit of time so he might as well get started.
Before Sigurd met with Archer, he carefully checked to make sure there were no traps. That was only prudent. Archer was exactly the kind of man to lure him into an ambush. However, there appeared to be nothing and as Sigurd paused to regard the waiting man he heard a soft murmur in the back of his mind. Master? He hadn't been able to make that out.
Oh, nothing! It's nothing at all! Esme answered with suspicious quickness and Sigurd frowned as he gazed at Archer. Seeing his 'numbers' was, indeed, rather peculiar. But it was valuable as Sigurd confirmed that the other Servant was definitely weaker than himself. Although Archer's strength had never been brute force. Just a thought! Well she could share it or he wasn't moving. …Archer is kind of cute, Esme's mental voice was an embarrassed whisper and Sigurd had to lock his jaw to hold back a laugh.
Oh, is that so? And am I cute too, princess? Sigurd teased, vaguely aware that he shouldn't. Esme had to be in danger of falling in love with him, after so much isolation, so much lack of simple affection in her life. Yet, Sigurd couldn't help himself. Maybe it was spillover from his Master or maybe he'd been somewhat aware in the Throne, but Sigurd felt like he'd been starved for female attention for a very long time.
Oh no you're not cute at all! Oh, his crushed heart! You're handsome! …Ahahaha! A small smile curled his lips as pleasure filed his heart.
That's wonderful to hear, princess. Thank you. Now, I suppose I should go say hello to our cute little Archer, Sigurd said with aplomb and smiled as he heard Esme giggle, still a bit embarrassed.
"Ah, Saber! Finally showing your ugly mug," Archer greeted him with a smile and Sigurd nodded, casually resting a hand on the hilt of his sword. For almost the first time, he truly examined Archer's appearance. Hmm, he could see why Esme would call him cute. Archer was a well-made man with strong arms, befitting his occupation. His hair was a gorgeous auburn color that seemed to shine, when it wasn't hidden by a dark hood. His face was pleasant enough, perhaps even handsome in a good light. What marred it, though, was Archer's affable smile. Sigurd was far too wise to fall for it, with or without crystallized wisdom. "You've done something with your glasses. Improving your sense of style?" ..Hmph. A bit too perceptive.
"Just a small change. What are you after, Archer?" Sigurd got right to the point. Archer loved to fence about, verbal sparring was his arena of choice. There was no point in feeding the troll. Irritation flashed across Archer's face for the tiniest of moment before it was replaced with an ingrating smile. But Sigurd had spotted it.
"Caster is becoming an issue. Have you heard of all the faintings in town?" Archer said carefully and Sigurd nodded, although he'd actually heard nothing. It was very hard for him, in this one aspect. Esme being chained to her tower meant he had little connection to the humans in the town and unfortunately, he was very poor at blending in. But he wouldn't let Archer know that. "I can't find her. You're smarter than you look, I'm hoping you can help me out with this." Heh. Sigurd was noticing something though, as he looked beneath the physical surface and examined the structure of Archer's body. His 'numbers' had tightened when he spoke of not finding Caster. Was that…?
Yes, it's fear, Esme whispered and Sigurd nodded thoughtfully, a gesture Archer wouldn't understand hadn't been directed at him. That was interesting. Archer was a lot of things… ambusher, con artist, dishonorable, perhaps even a true villain. But coward would never make the list. Still.
"You'll have to give me a better reason than that. I'm a Saber, after all." Sigurd said blandly. His class was the bane of sorcerers, with his high magic resistance. Archer's expression tightened for a moment before he smiled. It was a nasty, unpleasant smile. True to his real nature.
"Caster is allied with Lancer. You haven't met her yet, have you?" Archer said and his smile got uglier. Sigurd just gazed at him, impassive. There was nothing Archer could – "She's a beautiful woman with long, silvery hair and wings on her head." Sigurd suddenly felt like he'd been punched in the gut, although he hid the reaction well. Vaguely, he heard Esme gasp in the back of his mind. "She's Nordic like you, and the colors she wears are strangely similar. Someone you know, perhaps?" Archer suggested slyly.
Sigurd, Esme's voice whispered and Sigurd felt like gentle hands were touching his face, comforting like a mother's touch. It steadied him, stabilized him enough to remember that Archer was an enemy, in the end. He could not show weakness to the troll.
"Perhaps. That sounds like a powerful alliance. But do you know anything of Assassin?" Sigurd asked casually and Archer shook his head… while his 'numbers' seemed to bubble with pleasure. Hmm. Did Archer have an alliance with Assassin and intended to stab Sigurd in the back as soon as they were done with Caster? Or was Assassin dead?
Press him, Esme whispered and Sigurd decided that was fine advice.
"You betray yourself, Archer," Sigurd let his voice take an iron tone and saw a flash of consternation on Archer's face. Well, not surprising since he hadn't actually betrayed himself at all… except in his numbers. "What has become of Assassin?" Sigurd stared, willing the other man to tell him the truth. Archer hesitated a moment and glanced away. Communing with his Master? That seemed likely.
"Assassin is dead. He tried to take on my Master and got taken out," Archer said with another unpleasant smile and Sigurd believed he was telling the truth this time. That eased his worries about an alliance although he was sure Archer would still backstab him if he got the chance. Still and all, Sigurd intended to do the exact same thing to him. Weighing things in his mind, Sigurd came to a decision.
"Very well. I accept your alliance for the purpose of taking Caster out," Sigurd said stoically, although his heart hurt at the thought of facing… her. Could he even do it? If only Archer had been a true ally, Sigurd would have asked him if he could shoulder the burden of facing her. But he wasn't, no, he wasn't and the chips would fall where they may. Please, let him be lying. Don't let my Brynhildr be here. Sigurd didn't think fate would be that kind.
"Good! Here's my plan of attack…" Archer reached into his coat and pulled out a book – oh, a map. He opened it and Sigurd moved close as Archer outlined exactly how he thought they should go about looking for Caster, including how his Master would use his magic, taking samples from the leylines. Sigurd made his suggestions, ways he could use his runes to enhance the search. Of course, Archer wanted him to involve his own Master, but Sigurd only declined with a smile. Let them think his princess was a coward, hiding in her tower.
They would only find out otherwise when it was far too late.