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Vanitas: "If there's a Nasu law that's getting in my way, I'm just going to stab it with rule breaker."
Forsaken: Fate/Grand Order beat ya to it, Vanitas
…yeah, as you can see, best we keep our act to the internet…
Chapter 0-3: The Heretic from the Stars
"Alright, how about this; I'll fight with my left hand, while my right arm is strapped behind me. In fact, just to make things interesting, I'll also be blindfolded. Sound fair?"
The three mages, each holding a glowing rapier of their own, growled in great annoyance at the cocky attitude of their sparring partner. The mages were dressed in clothes that could pass as regal to the untrained eye, with fancy vests and gear you'd expect to find on a lord or duchess.
An assistant came up to the man who was speaking before, bringing forth a cloth with which to blindfold himself and bindings for his right arm. The challenging mage was wearing a red coat, with an arm-guard strapped to his right arm, protecting it from the shoulder to wrist. His jabot held a Topaz pendant, with his family symbol frozen in black in the middle. He had on long red boots, like those of ancient royalty, and black pants. His rapier was also glowing, but it is also carried engraved runes along the blade and cross-guard, as well as holding another Topaz gem on its pummel.
As soon as the assistant had finished handicapping the confident mage, one of the other three lunged at him with their rapier. The blindfolded mage swayed out of the way of the attack and struck with the pummel of his rapier into the man's back. The impatient attacker hopped forward, nursing his injured back with one hand and angrily pointing his rapier at the blindfolded mage with the other.
"What is the point in engaging with these ridiculous exercises?!"
"You mean other than keeping us in tip-top condition?"
The blindfolded mage's taunt earned him a sneak attack in the form of a plasma bolt headed for the back of his head. Turning to meet the bolt, he raised his blade to intercept the blast, which absorbed the spell into itself. The blindfolded mage flicked his rapier with a motion that discharged the energy down to the ground besides him. This pissed off the one that fired the blast even more.
"Damn you Aramis; we're mages, not Neanderthals! Why must we continuously indulge in this foolish pastime of yours?"
The first attacking mage had recovered and was unleashing a flurry of strikes upon Aramis, who gracefully blocked and parried each blow. This assault did not prevent him from responding to the bolt-chucking mage, speaking in a relaxed manner.
"Isabelle, you of all people should remember that a powerless mage is a dead mage, save for the mage who prepares themselves. You do recall that time in Toulouse, with the magic suppressing circle and the incubus who had a crush on you?"
Isabelle's left eye twitched at the mention of the incident, and she started to form another plasma bolt in her hand.
"You're going to quit bringing up the Toulouse incident every time I question your idiocy."
"I'll stop mentioning it once you actually prove there to be stupidity to be found in being able to hold off three mages with only a rapier and old family enchantments."
Taking this as a sign to start his own attack, the last of the other three mages charged forward, pulling back his rapier so as to impale Aramis with his first lunge as he drew near. Aramis, not moving his blinded gaze from the previous opponent, ducked down and rolled back, after which he kicked the incoming enemy into his friend. Realizing mid-flight what was happening, the 3rd mage only managed to twist the blade away from where his ally's heart would be, piercing his lower abdomen instead. Aramis then got up and briefly dusted himself off, before shimmering away like a ghost and reappearing behind Isabelle, his blade raised to her throat.
"I'd disengage that spell if I were you, dear."
There was a crash as the training hall's doors sprung open. Three men in grey uniforms rushed in, locked their gazes onto Aramis, and bowed deeply.
"Lord Aramis, the preparations have been made. Please, the other Lords and Masters are waiting."
Removing his blindfold and the bindings on his arm, Aramis addressed the closest attendee.
"Clifford, have my children arrived?"
"Yes Lord Aramis."
"And the relics, are the researchers sure they're what we require?"
"With the utmost certainty, my lord; the relics assembled will grant you the strongest class of Servant the Grail can bestow: the Saber class."
Smiling, he tossed aside his bindings onto the floor, motioning for the attendees to rise and patting Clifford on the chest.
"Excellent. Then let us be off. Come along, you three, we'll have a healer deal with Denis' wound on the way."
Grumbling, as if it could change the situation they had brought upon themselves, the three other mages got themselves sorted and followed after Aramis, to the summoning room.
/Clocktower, Mage Association, London, 8:10 a.m.
The Manticore Fireplace was a new addition to the Clocktower's rooms. Named as such for the various statures of the mythical beast, the huge oval room was a favorite spot for the Lord Aramis, but also the least cluttered with valuables in case the summoning of a Servant was of a more volatile nature.
Bursting into the room from behind two large golden doors, a little girl and boy ran up to hug Aramis, who knelt down so as to receive them at their level. His eldest, a 16 year-old, kept back with the other mages, but waved warmly at him from afar as they entered as well. The little girl hopped up so as to be caught by her father, effectively knocking the little boy out of his grasp in doing so.
"Father, are you really going to summon a swordsman? A real swashbuckler?"
"Of course, my dear Constance. But come now child, am I not myself a real swashbuckler?"
His son giggled a little at this comment.
"Mother says you're more a parading peacock than a musketeer, father."
"Oh really?"
Aramis had to hold back a chuckle as he saw his son's face change from a grin to imitate what he thought a peacock looked like, putting his hands in front of his mouth like a beak but resembling more an annoyed toucan than what he imagined. Clifford came over and tapped his lord on his shoulder, pointing in the direction of incoming men and women carrying various trinkets.
The mages were dressed in typical civilian clothes, and a few of them had satchels filled with rolled up parchments. They made various clanging sounds as they moved into the room.
"Ah, are these our researchers?"
"Greetings, Lord Aramis. It is great honor that we present you with our findings today. Behold, the treasures of the Victory Crater."
Three researcher mages assembled themselves into a row, placing the artifacts they had brought down before them. One set down a small sphere, no bigger than a baseball. The woman who had just held it seemed like she couldn't back away from it quicker.
"Should I be worried about that thing?"
"Just be sure no one presses that little button on the top. Not if they want to keep all their limbs, let along their lives."
"That sounds like quite the trinket."
The woman simply nodded in response, continuing to back away all the while.
The next researcher left a small handle, which earned him an inquisitive look from Aramis.
"What's that little thing?"
"We're not completely sure, sir, but the information we've been able to unearth from the site suggests that it was used as a weapon by the supposed invaders."
"Supposed?"
"There are some…disagreements among the heads of the project over whether or not the forces that the Banished "Warlock" were truly beings from beyond the stars, or just a forgotten civilization he burnt from the history books."
"Well, that's neither here nor there. Do you all think this artifact is important enough to resonate with a heroic spirit from this 'civilization', alien or not?"
"There's enough evidence regarding that to unite our top scholars, certainly."
"That's all I need to hear."
Finally, the last researcher came with a much easier to identify relic: a strange looking helmet, one that look like its wearer had a rather long neck, and a strangely roundish face.
"Was that some war horse's helm?"
"That's one of quite a few working theories, Lord Aramis."
"I'll put money down on that theory."
The mage gave Aramis a bemused looking, before nodding in acknowledge meant of his choice. This puzzled Aramis, though Clifford leaned over to his ear to clear up the matter.
"I believe Monsieur Fabron is of an opposing theory, and is simply taking note of your bet, sir."
Chuckling at the thought, Aramis walked over and inspected each relic, while behind him the other mages set up the summoning circle. Pacing back and forth in front of them, he settled on the handle in the middle.
"I'm certain that helm is some beast's armor, and I'm not settling for a Rider. Whatever this trinket is, it had better give me a Saber."
Turning around to see the circle nearly complete (Mages' Association interns work overtime), Aramis made a quick check of the items being used; powdered Ox bone, silver, and a gallon of cockatrice blood. Placing the handle down in the middle of the circle, he stepped back and let his subordinates complete it. Once they had finished, he held out his hand and began to chant.
"Be obedient and heed my call!
Be born again on this Earth, and let your Legend grow twice as large!
Twice, thrice, a hundred times let it restart!
May this land, nay this world know your power!
As you know now who guides it!
Be my sword of conquest, and we'll carve our names on Eternity!
Let me be thy closest glimpse of Heaven!
Let our foes see you and preview Hell!"
What the assembled mages expected was for something akin to lightning to burst forth from the circle, accompanying it the Servant that their Lord Mage had summoned. To their complete surprise, that particular preceding effect was not what occurred.
A sphere, like a localized storm, erupted and engulfed the circle. Aramis leapt back to avoid being caught by its sudden emergence, with a slightly bit of concern showing on his face.
Within this storm, the handle that Aramis had chosen began to float in the air. As if in answer to it, or rather the true cause of the handle taking flight, a thing like a hand appeared from the storm inside the circle, and grabbed the handle. It was in fact a hand, though not one belonging to a human, or anything known on this planet.
As it had done this, more of the Servant, if it could even be called that, began to materialize. Its legs were like a satyr's, though lacking fur and with black skin, and slightly scale-like in look. The armor it wore looked bronze, though had an unknown quality to it that made most in the room unsure as to what its actual qualities were. Its mouth was striking, being mandible-like and quadruple-hinged, and its head was covered in a beak like helmet, similar in design to the helm that Aramis had dismissed as a beast's helmet.
Well I wasn't completely wrong, now was I?
The Servant seemed to be observing all of them, passing his gaze over each Mage before settling his vision on Aramis. He growled, pointing a finger on the hand wielding the relic in his "Master's" direction.
"Human! What is the meaning of this?! What have you done to me?!"
"Well friend, I believe I summoned you from beyond death. To be my Servant in this Holy Grail War. Surely, this knowledge was already provided to you by the Throne of Heroes?"
"I feel…something forcing that information into my mind. But I don't recall agree to being anyone's servant ever again, least of all sorcerers like you!"
Befitting a being summoned as a Servant, the speed with which the creature dashed at Aramis was the definition of superhuman. Faster than most eyes could register, the creature was in mid-air, his free hand extended out to grab at Aramis' neck as he flew at him. Aramis managed to raise his rapier in time, and with a quick incantation encased himself and the blade in a barrier, though he was still knocked back into the wall behind him by the impact of the creature's blow.
"Father!"
"Daddy!"
"Dad!"
The creature turned in the direction of the crying children, who were barely able to register what had just happened, and saw their father get sent spiraling backwards at frightening speeds. Seeing it staring at the young mages, the rest of the room reactive defensively.
"Don't you dare, monster!"
"What I dare to do, you would hardly be able to stop, human."
Every one of the adult mages began firing off various spells, from bombarding assault spells meant to level walls or vehicles to restricting spells, in an effort to slow down or ensnare the rebellious Servant.
All of this while knowing what chances one normally has against a Servant: slim to none.
In response to their attack, the creature charged at the one who called him a monster. The mage frantically fired off more and more spells, but to his horror found that his spells were being repelled off of the creature. Within the next half of a second, it would be only a foot away from him.
"It's a Saber class! How else could this thing reject our magic like this?!"
If the assembled mages weren't concentrating on keeping themselves and the children alive, they'd be sure to congratulate Aramis on summoning his desired Servant.
The creature lunged forward with the hand wielding the handle, and from it burst twin energy blades on either end of it, surrounding his hand and flowing on forward. Body checking the man, the mage was sent flying back into a table, knocking it down with him as he tumbled to the ground.
"Saber. Yes, knowledge of that classification is ringing in my head. What nonsense have you all brought me from beyond to partake in?"
Coming to his feet, and raising his arms at the creature, the injured mage cursed at the Servant.
"Be silent! Servants are just tools, what benefit is it to us to tell you our goals?!"
Scoffing in disgust, the creature gave the mage a dirty glare as he lowered his blade to his side.
"Speak to me in that tone again, mage, and I'll show you what exactly this 'tool' is capable of."
Whispering out a small chant, the mage traced symbols in the air, and above the creature appeared two phantom like beings, similar to cherubs. They were holding batons, and giggling like children in innocent joy.
With a word from the mage, their faces changed to demonic smirks, and their batons transformed into tridents, which were engulfed in greenish hellfire which they fired down upon the Servant. Their weapons broke upon the creature's shields, which shimmered for a moment before apparently dispelling, leaving the creature with apparently no protection.
"Now, while the thing is defen-!"
Appearing in front of the mage before anyone could move, the creature's blades impaled the mage, who he then into the air before tossing him aside.
"Were you going to say 'defenseless'? Hardly."
Turning to face the rest of the mages, the creature practically spat out his challenge, pointing his blades at each mage as he addressed them.
"Whatever deities you choose to still worship, send your pleas of mercy to them, for you'll receive none from me."
"Oh, my God would be rather annoyed with me bothering him with that,-"
Turning to face the voice challenging it, the creature found Aramis lunging forward with his rapier. His forehead was bleeding and there appeared to be some damage to his right eye, but he was strong enough to charge down his insubordinate Heroic Spirit, and force him to raise his own blade to parry.
"-so I rather just bring you to heel myself."
The creature's face was very hard to decipher, but Aramis swore to himself that he saw it smirk after he had spoken.
"So you think yourself as tough as that 'Demon', do you?"
It forced Aramis back, though the man steadied himself and took up his fencing position, one arm behind his back as he raised his rapier.
"I've been called similar before. This demon of yours, is he the reason you like a cat dragged through a tar pit?"
Chuckling, the creature took up his own stance, saluting his opponent as he replied.
"Not that is matters, but the concept of beauty is not something I'll consider, coming out of the mouth of a fur challenged old human like you."
Grimacing, as the creature had struck a sore point, Aramis rushed forward and struck out with a flurry of stabs.
"It's hair, not fur!"
"So far as I'm concerned, it's all the same with you mammals."
The creature didn't seem too concerned with Aramis' strikes; until after one particular blow it appeared as if Aramis' arm was still coming down to slash at him.
"By the Ancients, what is this soc-?"
Slashing upwards and downwards at the same time, Aramis struck at his Servant with both his real and phantom right arm. The creature moved backwards, not truly harmed but his armor was clearly chipped. Aramis swiped his blade through the empty air, showing off his spare ghostly arm hovering over his right shoulder.
"How was that, creature? Do I match this demon of yours yet?"
To answer, it just rushed him and struck back, forcing further taunting to cease for the moment.
In fact, with the way the intensity of each blow increased, Aramis doubted he'd have much of a chance to survive this duel. So despite his personal disappointment on the matter, the sword-wielding mage resolved to expose his secret technique.
Using his phantom arm and blade to slash his own palm in-between blocking blows, Aramis started to chant. A silver and blue aura rose off of him as he did so.
Down my line, lies many a foe
A clan responsible for widows in the hundreds
And orphans in the thousands
Let one more sin mark my family
Dance of Ancestors: Stinger!
His phantom arm and the aura he was manifesting swirled and merged with his right arm. His eyes began to glow a similar color, and behind him various men and women appeared as apparitions. The creature took note of this, but did not relent in its assault. Managing to knock back one last blow, Aramis then lunged forward directly towards the Servant's chest. It was more than capable of bringing its blade back down to block the blow, but the force of the attack did knock him back quite a few feet, surprising him.
Being exhausted from this last attack, Aramis fell forward, having used up his remaining energy and still injured from the creature's previous assault. A few mages moved to grabbed, the remaining aiming at the Servant in defense of their companions, but their actions were unneeded. The creature had gone invisible again, and reappeared alongside Aramis, grabbing him before he touched the ground and calmly lying the man down against the wall.
"Daddy!"
Ignoring the rather scary being towering over their wounded father, Aramis' youngest children Constance and Louis ran to his side. The creature did not move in response, instead just staring down at the barely conscious man.
"You fight well, human. Even in the face of a foe you have little chance of defeating."
"How can I know that, if I'm still alive and well enough to try?"
"You know the strength your 'Servants' have when summoned. We are beings meant to be many times more powerful than a mere human, and even those others are just human Heroic Spirits."
"Yes, you've made very clear that you are not human. Mind telling me what exactly you are then."
Nodding, to the surprise of the rest of the room, the creature answered.
"I am the Arbiter, a member of the proud Sangheili race. I am not of your world, nor do I think even this reality. The humans I fought, and later fought alongside were a stubborn race there as well. And their 'demon', an exceptional human himself, was one of the few of your race that I personally respect. As for your unspoken question…"
He brought his sword arm up to his chest, in salute to his Master.
"I am of the Saber class, and if this coming war is of such importance to you, then you shall have my aid, human."
The sangheili's sudden attitude shift startled and confused the assembled mages. Aramis' children looked up at the being that had just fought their father, now claiming to fight alongside him. While still in pain, Aramis laughed a little at this.
"Was the fighting really necessary, if you were going to work alongside me anyway?"
"I wished to make sure that you were a being with a spine, worthy of the respect those from my reality had earned. Had you not been, human, only your offspring would be leaving this room."
Constance stuck out her tongue at Saber, who turned away from her gaze nonplussed. A mage came over to tend to Aramis' wounds, who rose up as she was working on him.
"Would it kill you call me 'master'? It is my title in our little arrangement."
"No person that is below me in power, 'command seals' or not, is my master. And I am done being in service to masters."
"Can you at least call me by my name then? I do have one."
Saber moved to leave the room, looking back in annoyance at Aramis.
"Not too long ago, you were hurling insults and childish comments my way, and now you wish for civility. Very well, Aramis. Will referring to you as such still your tongue to some extent?"
"I promise nothing."
Slightly amused by his "master's" cheekiness, Saber vanished from sight and brushed by mages invisibly, while the others rushed over to Aramis to steady him as they helped him leave.
"Lord Aramis, we must beg your forgiveness. Has we known these relic would bring forth such a vile and unruly Servant, we'd have smashed them to pieces rather than return with them. Please, we ask that you not speak of this to the council."
"Are you kidding? I got a Saber, and a tough one at that. What have I to blame you for?"
Startled by the man's attitude to the situation, the head researcher babbled on.
"Sir, are you alright? You have taken to fierce a blow to the head, have you? That thing just attacked you, and killed one of our companions."
"My Saber, moody thing that he is, did not use lethal force until fired upon. I'll admit, I came on a bit rudely to my newly summoned partner, but as he said he only planned to test me. Hugo's death is tragic, but you all remained calmed and seen that I was still alive myself, this entire debacle could have been kept from escalating."
The mood of the room changed quite a bit upon him saying this, a few looking to agree with his assessment, but many looking rather angry by how ungrateful he sounded.
"Are you saying it's our fault?"
"You all desired a Saber, same as I, but you greet this proud warrior with naked sorcery and an attitude of mages, not men or soldiers. Perhaps if you saw Servants as beings rather than just tools, they'd be more loyal to your representatives, and the Association would have already won one of these Holy Grail Wars previously."
Escorted out of the room by the mage nursing him and his children, Aramis was not present to hear his three apprentices, the mages he had trained with, speaking in regards to his attitude.
"It is as Lord Baptiste said; the man prides his blade more than his magecraft. He's too much like the brutish commoners."
"Keep quiet, Isabelle. Fool that he is, he still inspires loyalty in many for those very traits. If you are to speak of this, then do so in a room more secure."
Frowning, but keeping silent in agreement, Isabelle helped the others raise Hugo's body from the ground. Denis, who had spoken before, took aside the last apprentice Victor and whispered to him.
"I do wish that Lord Baptiste would give us the order to strike at him already. Continuing to serve under that man is going to start unsettling my stomach."
"Patience, Denis. The man is still loyal to the Association. If and when he makes the mistake of acting against his wishes, we can do as we like in restraining him."
"Only restraining him, Victor?"
"Well, the Holy Grail War is notorious for its high Masters Mortality rates. If a rogue mage were to take things too seriously, say the Tohsaka brat, well…"
A devilish grin formed on Denis' face.
"Solving two problems in one move. Lordship would be ours for doing such a service for the Association."
"What of the Grail War, though? The Root is still sought after."
"Worry not. Lord Baptiste is in the middle of developing a technique, one that can prolong the Grail War if a…substitute is needed for Lord Aramis."
Looking around to be sure no unwanted ears overheard their conversation; the two mages joined their cohort in moving their dead companion's body out of the room through a levitating spell. All the while, a still invisible Saber leans against the wall, having never left the room.
"Betrayal being plotted this early in the conflict. It seems my luck is unchanged in this world."
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