Solovei watched Hector with confusion and growing annoyance as the man basically ignored everything that he said, ignored any recognition of who he was, or the purpose for which he had been summoned. He accepted the cash with that same attitude, listening to the request with some incredulity. Surely he wasn't being serious, was he? He might have knowledge of the modern era, but it didn't change the fact that someone who was part bird trying to buy something was certain to raise a few eyebrows.
He did pocket the money, but he made no effort to move from his spot. "I am a Servant of the Assassin class, not your Squire. If you wish to purchase something, do it yourself." He certainly was not going to stoop to making himself the mans butler, regardless of their current relationship.
That said, he folded his arms across his chest, waiting to see what his 'Master' would do. He was a Brigand, who thrived in the wilds, preying upon law and order. He would not cede to authority so easily, and if Hector thought that he could easily dominate the SHeroicpirit that he had summoned, then he was in for quite a rude awakening.
"I... don't really know how I'm supposed to respond to that question," Wes said, feeling just as bewildered as he did awkward. "I guess... yes? Is that okay? Can I say that?"
Something about having her identity revealed so quickly seemed to have set his Servant on edge, or at least that's what he assumed based on her ears and what he knew about the social cues of various animals, foxes included.
"Are you okay?" he asked, concerned for his Servant.
Maybe it was because her legend was primarily associated with deception and (perhaps) attempted murder? Wes wasn't too terribly worried about that though. He'd summoned from compatibility, so their alignments should be similar. He didn't feel like a murderer, so he doubted the fox girl was as guilty as the emperor had assumed her to be. No, he was guessing there was just more to the story than what he'd been told.
But that wasn't his primary concern anyway. His primary concern was making sure she was happy so they wouldn't have any problems working together, and why she kept saying she wanted to be his wife.
Oh, that and the group of startled workers on break who'd just seen the shed light up like the the damn Holidazzle. That was probably important too.
"<Holy shit!>"
"<What the hell was that?>"
"<What is that kid doing in there?!>"
"<You think he's okay?>"
"<Screw that, I'm wondering if we're gonna be okay!>"
To Wes it all just sounded like gibberish heading in one ear and out the other, but for Tamamo it should have been perfectly clear.
"Uhhh, Tamamo? Do you know what they're saying?" Wes asked as he prepared to have to hypnotize even more people.
"I... don't really know how I'm supposed to respond to that question," Wes said, feeling just as bewildered as he did awkward. "I guess... [i]yes?"
[/quote]
Hearing her Master's confirmation was a load off Caster's mind. If he actually took umbrage with any of her actions, he obviously would have spurned her. But not Tamamo's Master! He was a kindred spirit, and knew from the moment he saw her that she was going to be his one true love in this life.
"Thank you, Master-sama." Caster bowed deeply before Wes, providing him a generous view of her assets.
"<Holy shit!>"
"<What the hell was that?>"
"<What is that kid doing in there?!>"
"<You think he's okay?>"
"<Screw that, I'm wondering if we're gonna be okay!>"
"My word!" Caster bristled, head turning to the rickety doorway. "It appears that our passion was so great we attracted onlookers! Shall I send them away?" The Servant punctuated this statement by drawing a spell tag from her sleeve, the paper's edge singed and carrying the smell of ash and brimstone. "As much as I can appreciate an attentive audience on occasion, I understand if you are more nervous. My Master is wise beyond his years, but has body brimming with youth."
Not that she minded. Enthusiasm was part in parcel with the youths of humanity, a characteristic she could appreciate in a Master.
"Of course!", Rasputin responded cheerfully, now in slurred, heavily-accented Japanese, "It is good to be working with you, comrade Dracula. Now come, we have much to be doing."
With that, Rasputin pivoted on his heels and stalked off to his GAZ, parked at the edge of the lot. He fished around in the backseat while he awaited his Servant. From underneath a heavy coat and some grocery bags littered across the seat, Rasputin pulled a clipboard and pen, setting them next to the driver's seat so he wouldn't lose them. He started the car and leaned out the window, squinting at the morning sky.
"We must be leaving quickly if we are not to be missing morning mass, comrade! Are we not brothers in God?"
"Uhhh... what?" Wes said, either uncomprehending or unwilling to.
"<Hey kid, are you okay in there?!>"
The doorknob rattled.
"Oh shi-" Wes said, then sighed. "Nevermind, just let me take care of them!"
Undoing the lock but not the chain, Wes opened the door a crack and
"Okay, that should take care of that," Wes said, sitting down cross-legged on his sleeping bag. Outside, the four men stumbled back into the warehouse with a slightly dazed look in their eyes, the last two minutes completely erased from their minds. He watched them leave through a tiny hole in the wall until he was sure they were gone and that no one else was around.
Wes sighed.
"Okay, I think we need to establish some ground rules. First is no killing. The enemy Masters and Servants are fine, but I don't want you to attack or use your powers on anyone else unless you absolutely have to in order to protect yourself or me. You're a Servant. With your strength you're liable to kill them, and I'm not even talking about the... what was that you were holding just now? Is that some kind of spell tag?" Wes asked, momentarily allowing his inquisitive side to take over. "A-Anyway, just try not to hurt anybody that isn't involved in the Holy Grail War. Rule number two is we should never use each other's real names unless we're alone together in this room. Outside, it's 'Caster' and 'Master', not 'Tamamo' and 'Wes'. That's me, by the way. I'm Wes. It's uhhh... really nice to meet you."
Wes smiled, blushing. Crap, he was letting the excitement rush to his head again. He was laying down the ground rules here! He needed to be assertive!
He cleared his throat, resuming outlining "da rules".
"Rule number three is don't do anything suspicious in public and don't do or say anything that could lead someone back here. You're the weakest class besides Assassin, and I'm the weakest Master, easily. If we wanna have a shot at winning, we have to play tactically. If we get into a direct confrontation, we're screwed, and if we get ambushed or walk into a trap, we are doubly screwed, so be thoughtful and discreet when you're out in public.
"Rule number four is that there are no secrets. I want you to share everything with me, no matter how inconsequential it seems. Information is important and I need to know all of your abilities inside and out. The more we understand each other, the more effective of a team we can be. That includes me, too. You can ask me anything you want."
Wes paused, thinking for a second. Four was a really crappy number to end on, especially in Japan. He needed a fifth rule.
"... Rule number five is that you can always trust me. And I'll always trust you too. We're all each other has in this war. We're Master and Servant. Partners. Don't be afraid to ask or tell me anything. And I think that about covers the rules for now."
Wes patted the floor next to him, inviting her to sit. He held out his hand.
"My name is Wes Downgate. I'm a second-rate, second-generation magus with no family and no friends to speak of. My mother died when I was fifteen, and I'm on the run from the Mage's Association for my 'heretical ideas'. It's nice to meet you, Caster. I know I'm probably not worth it, but please accept me as your Master."
And just like that, Berserker was freed from her madness.
"Son of a mother-fuggin'!... fuck this stupid fucking... graaahhhh..."
The incensed Servant continued stamping on the ground and kicking things almost as if nothing had happened, except now she could speak English. She whipped her head around and at looked at the boy. The sight of him looked like it was causing her physical pain. She grabbed a fistful of her hair in each hand, rubbing up against her scalp.
"FfffffffffffFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!" she yelled, ripping the clumps of hair she held off her head and throwing them on the ground. "FUCK FUCK FUCK!"
Hector's smile flickered. He really didn't expect the revived spirit of a violent criminal to be such a jerk about it. This working relationship had already gone off to a bad start, and Hector was going to have to do something to mend it.
Back when Hector was a simple enforcer for el jefe, if a thug had decided he was too big to kiss up to the man controlling him, Hector would have to do something creatively drastic with their fingers and a hammer. Now that Hector had all the power, he had options.
Hector's grandfather told him about how Servants worked. How, if they didn't get their rations of blood, souls, or semen, they'd jolly well piss off to wherever they went. How their time on this earth would drastically shorten if they didn't have a Master to give them their rations of souls and bloody semen. How a surprising majority of them were women, and how a surprising majority of the rest of them were hunky men. Hector was rather disappointed to have discovered that this folkloric hero wasn't a buxom woman, but he was at least glad he wasn't a freak with eyes so lazy they were separated by at least half a foot on the face. Solovei was being a bit cheeky, but he probably enjoyed the finer things in life. Hector could work with that.
"Can't fault a guy for trying." Hector shrugged. "Guess you boys don't like doing grunt's work, huh? I'm sorry for treating you like a goon, yeah? Let me make it up for you. I got just the sorta thing someone like you'd like."
Hector snatched a tin from the bathroom counter, and gingerly opened it away from his face. A small wisp of evil-smelling smoke rose up from the innards of the tin, defiling the air around it. Three small white pieces of rolling paper, surrounded by velvet and filled with iridescent crushed herbs, sat ominously in the tin. Hector slowly and delicately plucked one of the papers and carefully pinched it into a long, thin joint. With nearly reverent deliberateness, Hector pulled a lighter from his pocket and lit the joint as far away from his face as possible. A corona of light gently flowed from the joint's lit end, bathing the room in a rainbow of colors. Hector took a deep hit from his precious cargo, and blew out a cloud of octarine smoke.
"Brisby's Sublimated Elixir of Psilocybin-- the dankest shit in the universe. This'll make it allll better, man. C'mon, take a hit." Hector proferred the joint with a strange amount of ceremony. The smoke coming off it gently wormed its way into Solovei's nostrils, tickling at his hindbrain like an alluring siren, singing a song solely composed of the word
Oh. It appeared that even when taken out of the grasp of madness, his Servant had their own degree of insanity to deal with. Perhaps it was a bad idea to take off Mad Enhancement? After all, Giorgio figured it might be a good idea to converse with his ally. Even if they were a Berserker, they must of had something interesting to say. Giorgio was the sort of person who enjoyed to converse with people on a daily basis. From Dons to nobodies, everyone has a story to tell, and Giorgio tended to be interested in people's motives.
However, there existed little conversation between the two. Merely, the Berserker he had summoned was shouting profanities while doing some odd ritual with their scalp. Perhaps it was a cultural thing that Giorgio didn't understand? Of course it wasn't. Giorgio understood what this meant. Was he not up to satisfactory to his Servant? Giorgio knew that his magical circuits were not the greatest, but even so, was the Servant he had summoned some sort of powerful being as to simply discern the prowess as a magus is but a single glance? Perhaps Giorgio had underestimated his Servant. Perhaps he had drawn the card that could allow Giorgio a bit more leniency within the war. Though not above such ideas as hard work and determination, if he could simply pass through the battles on the coattails of his Servant, there would have been little skin off his nose.
“I’ll apologize if I am not a Master to your liking. Although I understand I might not be the greatest of all Magi, I would hope that we could at least get along together. Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Giorgio Armadi, and my resolve will be the one to press forward in this war and I would hope you to join me as an equal partner. As such, I would wish to sort through any issues with the current arrangement as soon as possible.”
...Reasoning was worth a try. He had gotten through life pretty well on its wings.
Perhaps the man with the pretty clothing, almost effeminate appearance would not seem to be the best for a battle. Of course, Giorgio understood that he would have to fight other Magi within the war. But he was not unprepared for any sort of engagement. After all, though many Magi take part in the division of their original “skill points”, Giorgio had chosen to invest these points in a single discipline. Perhaps it was a bit odd to do so, but Giorgio never considered himself overtly “normal”.
Giorgio was not one to consider himself “inefficient” at something. Perhaps if his Servant had picked up on that sort of fact it would have been best to clear up the air before properly making this partnership. At least, that was his own internalization of the statement made by his summon. After all, a Servant might have been a “tool” of sorts to the master, but Giorgio understood that they were not merely a familiar; their existence contained within their core being agency not unlike himself or any other human. A shadow of a person kept within the Throne and waiting for their call to battle.
Therefore, felt it best to treat them as if they were a normal person. A normal person who happened to have legends at tales written and spun about their feats. It was not unlike meeting a celebrity, but perhaps a bit more exciting.
After trying to rationalize to his summoned Servant that he was more than suitable a master, Giorgio finally decided it was time to examine who they had summoned. Though at first he believed it might have been a man, he soon discovered through simple checks of distribution that his summoned Servant was, in fact, a woman.
A woman that stood a towering near 15 centimeters over his person. Though relatively short compared to others, Giorgio was never considered himself particularly small. At least, he didn’t realize he was shorter than most other people, until the juxtaposition of his Servant’s height to his own. A bit upsetting to his own pride as a man, but at the same time this was a hero who had been placed in his own time. The pinnacle of humanity’s desires and wishes were what bled into a heroes creation. His Servant would be no different.
At least, that is what he told himself as to not succumb to hurt pride. The 21st century schizoid man would continue forward.
Despite being a woman, her garb was nothing alike the modern “interpretation” of female armors. Both efficient at covering vitals as well as a bit concealing, perhaps there existed a more elegant form of beauty compared to the world over. Etching the figure of his Servant within his mind, a face he wouldn’t soon forget, Giorgio understood it was time for business.
Woman or not, she was his [reluctant] sword, and what Giorgio would use to secure his victory.
“I have given my own identity. I think it is only fair I receive yours as well, no?"
There often exists in western and other cultures the idea of the “exchange of identity”. To identify oneself is to receive the identity of those you have told your name to. A formality of sorts. And Giorgio was a man of formality above most.
However, despite having recently summoned his Servant. A single instance was still within the forefront of his mind. Perhaps it was a burden of the self inflicted by standardization. Giorgio might have really just wanted coffee. To not have his standard routine for even but an hour caused his a bit of discomfort. An idea of shortening their conversation to get the elixir of his dreams went through his mind, if only for the moment. However, Giorgio knew not to act on such an impulse. After all, the first impression is the most lasting impression.
"Wonderful, how utterly wonderful! O to have such a pious Master! My spear is yours, Master, to hold and use as you see fit!"
He followed his Master to the vehicle, something he recognized as a car, an old one. How pious, how humble and how frugal must his Master be, to own such a vehicle when others exist.However it would seem that he was at quite a disadvantage. His Master knew about him, perhaps because he had wanted to summon Lancer, but Lancer knew not even his Master's name.
Dematerializing, Lancer followed his Master into the car, noting how small the space inside was.
"Master, if you please, do tell me of your name. After all, if we are to attend mass together, at the very least, I should know your name." Kurokiri Hyuuga
It was... a woman.
A woman had materialized from the circle, her servant. Whoever she was, the first thing Kurokiri noticed was her fiery red hair, stature and the two swords at her hip.
"I'm Saber, the one who answered your summons. I get it that you are my Master... right?"
Saber, said to be the strongest of all the servant classes. It was almost unbelieveable how fortunate this was for Kurokiri. The servant did not reveal her name however, perhaps due to distrust or fear that her Master may be mindread, tortured or other such events that may lead to her servant's true name being revealed.
"I am Kurokiri Hyuuga, the one who would be your Master." Kurokiri bowed down for a moment, before straightening up and flashing a warm smile. "Nice to meet you, Saber."
A servant of her own, and even a Saber class as well. now all she needed to do was prepare, and scout out the town. Her home and the streets around it was familiar to her, but she had only passing knowledge of most of the town, save for her workplace and the area immedieately around it. Her servant would no doubt be able to benefit from this knowledge as well.
Berserker cast a sharp glance at her Master. Without any warning she closed the gap between them with frightening speed, lifting Giorgio up by his collar and slamming him into the concrete bank of the underpass in what seemed like one swift motion. Her strength was so great it cracked the very foundations, cratering in jagged, concentric rings. The blow would've been more than deadly for a normal human, but she'd calculated her strength just enough so a seasoned magus like Giorgio could survive.
"Listen and listen good, you little shit. I will say this only once," she hissed at the out of breath magus. "My name is Penthesilea. I am the last great queen of the proud warriors called Amazons, and I will be addressed as such. Not 'Servant'. Not 'Berserker'. And certainly not 'Penthesilea' or any cute nicknames. Queen. When you address me, it will be as 'my queen'. 'Mistress' perhaps on a good day. Do that, and perhaps you will still see the end of this war. Do you understand?"
She formed a V with the index and middle fingers of her free hand and pointed them at Giorgio's eyes in case her threat wasn't clear enough.
When he assented to understanding, she loosened her grip somewhat (so from a titanium grip to perhaps a steel or an iron one) and sighed.
"First I am killed by some cheating, spoiled mama's prettyboy, then I get one of my eyes gouged out, and now this? I'm what, shackled to some boy for the duration of this blasted war? I mean my gods, you even look like him!" she yelled accusingly at Giorgio. "Is there no end to this humiliation? Must I suffer for my mistakes eternally? Answer me, father!" she yelled at the sky.
Oh. It appeared that Giorgio had made a mistake. As he had originally thought, perhaps the Berserker he had summoned might not have had a lot of anything intelligent to say. In fact, perhaps the garble of sound were less barbaric than this woman’s current actions and statements.
Berserker had assaulted her own Master, pinning them against the wall in a grip which acted as a vise to the backing of a wall under the bridge. Hardly able to breath, Giorgio might have been in more trouble had the other truly wanted to hurt him. After all, Giorgio, able to discern their own Servant’s stats, were able to see rather high parameters in most respects. This woman was a warrior through and through, and a mad one at that. Perhaps it was all clear now as to why the Woman had been summoned as a Berserker. All too clear.
His Servant, identifying themselves as Penthesilea, a name that Giorgio recognized as the queen of the amazons during the Trojan wars. A person who had fought against Achilles, dying in the process. Of course, Giorgio did not really have a complete grasp of her identity besides but a few passing-glances. Perhaps later he could dig up more information regarding her identity? But to be compared to one of the great heroes of Greek Mythology in terms of looks was not the worst thing to Giorgio. Though, perhaps Penthesilea did not mean this in the kindest of ways.
At least, he would have considered this option a lot more in the event that there wasn’t a rather constraining hand around his neck. As one would expect, one’s ability towards rational thought tended to decrease in capacity during a “strangling”. Or perhaps this was a shakedown? Giorgio had, during his time, done actions similar to this, but had never truly been on the receiving end of the stick. It felt rather … bad might be an apt means of putting it.
For a moment, Giorgio considered utilizing a Command Seal to stay his Servant’s rage. After all, a Servant is but tool to the Magus in the end. Though, Giorgio was not the sort of person to want to force another to back down through force if he did not need to. Giorgio preferred to fight others with his thoughts rather than straight-up violence, or in this case, powerful bursts of prana written as a spell on the hand. Even if this “person” was merely a Servant, a projection from the throne of Heroes, summoned by the Grail in order to do battle against other Servants, he would still like to consider his Servant as a “person” rather than the contemporary idea of magi thinking of familiars as mere tools.
“W-Well so much for hoping to get along,” Giorgio said, a tad bit dejected being an understatement. If it was Giorgio’s Servant, they should have been more closely related to himself. A Servant who is not one to talk is not someone that Giorgio would consider good company. After all, this was more or less a “game” of sorts to Giorgio. To have fun and to test himself against others. Such a backwater magi war tended to be less interesting to Giorgio than anything else. Someone who preferred a bottle of wine and an evening of music than the likes of a war. It might be odd for someone like Giorgio to consider joining this, but perhaps a change of pace is always needed in life. Happens to make it less dull, and to be a dullard was to not live at all.
But Giorgio could not really say that a “change of pace” he would be looking for was being nearly choked by some woman who demanded he refer to her as either “Queen” or “Mistress”. After all, he was not some degenerate that enjoyed these sorts of rough foreplay.
“I suppose it is a bit too late to discuss the war over a bottle of Moët de Chandon? Honestly, when you grabbed me I considered using a Command Seal against you, but since you are so … ‘ kind’ … as to lessen your grip, I suppose that it would not be necessary. "
“However, that does not mean that you can simply attack me like that. Even if you do not wish to think highly of me, and even if you don’t want to win the Grail War with me, I am still your Master. Though I would rather not win your charm off of something as petty as a Command Seal, I would have to say that I also think dying in a petty way in a dispute with my Servant the moment they are summoned is not exactly in my ‘to-do-list’ for the day. If you offer me your Blade I will fight besides you. If not, I cannot say I have much of a reason for this war. However, being a legendary hero, there must be something you want from the Grail. I might be a sleeping slave to fate, but others try and break out of their destiny. Perhaps you are one of those people? As for the whole “Queen” thing, I don’t have too much of an understanding of it. They abolished the monarchy long before I was born in my country. The only “Queen” I know is Mercury, May, Taylor and Deacon. A name is just a name though. If that is really what you want me to call you, I want to get an alternate name as well. The Emperor is me, Giorgio!”
... Alright, even if Berserker was willing to call Giorgio that, he would not not want her to call him that. It seemed a bit...silly. Either way, that was his cheeky way of saying "no" to Berserker.
"I-", Rasputin said, inserting the key into the ignition, "Am the great Grigori Yefimovich Rasputin, aide of Nicholas II! And you-", he waved the clipboard, "-Should rematerialize. Time is of the essence and I will be asking you to fill out this paperwork as we drive."
Rasputin placed the clipboard on the passenger seat, revealing a Japanese residency application. He spoke quickly as they pulled out onto the road, the car's front axle groaning softly as it was forced to take turns a car without power steering should never reasonably be expected to take.
"Do not be worrying about personal seal or identification, you will be finding all of them in glove compartment- though I will be needing to make changes to some after mass to be accounting for you being yourself. You are Doctor Alucard Orlock Akula, a 40-year-old phlebotomist- if anyone asks why you look young, you take good care of your skin- with a doctorate in haematology, educated in the Czech Republic. I am a humble electrician. We became friends over the internet due to our mutual interest in Slavic folklore, and have decided to work together to fulfill our lifelong dream of living in Japan, yes?"
Rasputin fished around in a bag stuck in the ashtray, retrieving a handful of washers. He absentmindedly swallowed them one or two at a time as he drove, as if he had somehow become addicted to metallic cough drops. After a few minutes, he spoke again.
"I should probably be telling you this right now: This is a one-church town. I understand that you are also of Russian Orthodox denomination, so please be understanding that, if mistakes are being made, I will be sharing in your outrage."
With that, they took a turn onto a small, tree-lined road. With a little luck, they'd make it to mass before it began.
Caster blinked, momentarily floored by her Master's words and actions. She had prepared herself for the sort of Master way in over his head and requiring her gentle guidance in order to survive this iteration of the Grail War. Yet here was her Master, having demonstrated his mastery of the mental arts on the peasants, established a secluded love nest for their activities, and proved he possessed strong moral convictions to boot.
"I'm truly the luckiest Servant to ever be summoned if I have a Master like you." Letting the spell tag fade into the ambient prana, Tamamo accepted the offer hand and sat sieza beside her Master's sleeping bag. She was practically glowing with joy as she smiled at him. "You already know my name and legend, there is little more for me to add at this time. Our fate's are intertwined, so you shall have my utmost trust Wes."
The rule about not killing civilians might be an issue in the future. Not that she had any great compulsion to go out and eat their souls, blood, or semen but if it came between pushing an old lady out of the way of a speeding car or keeping her Master safe, she knew what she would do. The insinuation that she was the weakest Servant class stung even knowing she had E rank STR and END, but it wasn't hard for her to justify it as Wes showing concern for her safety. Such a kind Master she had. He likely couldn't imagine life without her now.
"So you are seen as a heretic. Does that perhaps have to do with your wish for the Grail? My wish has already been granted, so I can dedicate myself to bringing about yours!"
A sly grin pulled at her lips as she turned away to leave Wes staring at the top of head and the attentive fox ears. "But if I am to be the best wife I can be, I expect you to work just as hard. I can't reveal my secret garden without you reaching sufficient relationship flags!"
The thought processes of divinity is truly beyond all mortal comprehension.
"Uh huuuuuuuhhh..." Wes said. He'd address the things she'd been saying later, once he knew how.
"Well, you can still tell me more about your Noble Phantasm and what kind of spells you know, right? As for why I'm a heretic..."
Wes hummed and hoed. How to explain heresy to an ancient fox spirit?
There was another knock on the door. Wes quickly bade Tamamo to dematerialize momentarily, and opened the door a crack once again.
"Hello?"
"<Delivery for a Mr. 'Wes Downgate',>" said the delivery person standing outside the shed.
"Uhhhh..." Wes said, in what was quickly becoming his new catchphrase. Of course the uniform was a dead giveaway that his packages had arrived (was the same day shipping always this fast in Japan?) but he had no idea what they were asking him, and he couldn't very well have Tamamo materialize and ask her at this stage.
Luckily the delivery person just handed him a clipboard and he quickly understood.
"Sign on the dotted line..." he muttered to himself as he scrawled his name. He handed the clipboard back to them and they nodded to their coworker to bring the packages around, of which there were many.
"<We would've sent them via the drones you requested, but some of the items you ordered were too heavy for just five of them to carry,>" the delivery person explained. Wes still didn't understand, but he heard the word "drone" in heavily-accented English and more or less understood where the delivery person was coming from.
The delivery person's partner finished unloading the last package from the truck and laid it outside Wes' door with the rest of the things he'd ordered. Tipping their hat, the delivery person climbed back into the truck.
"<Have a nice day!>" they said as they drove off.
"Yeah, you too," Wes said, but in a spacey, airy way. He was already thinking about what he was going to use these things for.
"You want a good example of heresy in the modern magic world?" Wes said to Tamamo as he started unpacking his orders. "This is heresy."
What he held in his hand was a drone. A small, white object designed to fly the friendly and not so friendly skies, equipped with all the little gadgets and doodads most mages hated. Its design was sleek, able to carry up to 5 lbs, and was silent within a certain distance.
Wes started working with it, plugging in the batteries and connecting it to his laptop, running the necessary software updates. Finally, when he got it working, a live video feed popped up on his monitor, and he started controlling it with his laptop. The tiny machine rose into the air with a soft mechanical buzzing, hovering like a hummingbird.
"Technology. Advancement. Change. These are things the Association we work under would rather pretend don't exist than acknowledge, and they're the basis for my theses on magecraft, not to mention my strategy for winning this war."
That's when Wes remembered something she'd said. Something that just didn't add up.
"Wait, you said your wish has already been granted?"
Tamamo watched the little technological marvel whiz about the shed in wonder. She was aware this kind of technology existed today, but seeing it in person was another thing all together. While she didn't have an interest in technology, even she had to admit that it was an amazing feet. Without a hint of Magecraft involved, mankind had forged their own familiars that could function just as well as anything else today's magus could. It may not have had the subtlety of a bird familiar, but it couldn't be detected by prana either.
"This is astonishing!" She cheered, moving to sit beside Wes at his laptop. "No mage will see this coming. I can see why they would be threatened by your genius, it would invalidate generations of work and compromise the safety of their workshops."
"Hmm." Tamamo broke away from watching the drone bob about to consider his earlier questions. "My Noble Phantasm and spells? Well with everything we have between us we shouldn't need to release my reflector, but let's just say that once I invoke it I won't have any restraints or cost on my magic. Things are going to go up like Tanabata!"
With a flick of her wrist another spell tag appeared.
"I rely on Witchcraft, you can use your Appraisal to learn more, but I mainly use it make these little beauties. I throw them at someone, and suddenly they are no longer an obstacle to our love. With my Spirit Break charm I can restore my prana when I strike a Servant with the reflector, or can create a barrier with the Aphotic Cave. There's more, but we don't want to spend all knight talking about such dreary things. "
Reaching out she grabbed his hand and gently rested it between her vulpine ears with a content sigh.
"After all, being with you is all I want from the Grail. So just being summoned has made me the happiest fox in the world."
Rematerializing, the car creaked and shifted, bearing Lancer's full weight as Lancer tried to make himself comfortable in the backseats. This was certainly highly unexpected. He has had no real expectations beyond actually fighting in the War, and perhaps his or his Master's death. But for a Master to go this far... Well, if he had taken the trouble to prepare all of this, the least Lancer could do was to fill out the forms and take on the identity of this... Dr. Akula.
He filled out the form, pausing just once to lean over the empty front seat and inside the glove box, rummaging around until he grabbed all the things he needed.
"A one church town..." From what his Master said, it sounded like another part of the Christian faith, perhaps the Catholics. "Very well, let us attend regardless."
With that, Lancer leaned back against the seats, once again trying to make himself comfortable. Kurokiri Hyuuga
She continued on smiling as her Servant introduced herself. At least she's friendly, Kurokiri thought to herself. She had almost thought she would get one of those very rude or overbearing people. It was hard dealing with those.
Her train of thought soon derailed, broke and went up in flames as El Cid, as she called herself, wrapped her arms around Kurokiri, standing close enough to have her look down straight into her eyes it would seem. Kurokiri stiffened immediately, her smile unwavering though her eyes widened slightly. How was she to react to this? She had never been in this sort of situation, nor have she even ever thought about it. Saber leaned in close suddenly, whispering in Kurokiri's ears "That is, assuming you're still a virgin, right? 'cause you totally look like someone boys would try to ravish... hehe."
Kurokiri blushed almost instantly."Ah... Uh.. I.. I don't have exper.. But more importantly... I don't have skinny jeans. I can lend you my other clothes though. At least until I buy some clothes for you."
"Also, as long as we are not in the presence of the enemy, may I call you Hyyuga? Naturally, you can call me El, if you want, as well. This would make things more intimate between us, don't you think? Anyway, I'm ready to go whenever you are, Hyuuga." Saber finally stepped away, much to the relief of Kurokiri. Such an unfamiliar situation would have her panicking in a few more moments.
"Ah, yes. You can call me Hyuuga if you want." Kurokiri had quickly gained her usual composure, though she was still blushing slightly. "Then, shall we go? You can wear any of my clothes if they fit you, otherwise being dematerialized would be best. Its best if the public doesn't see you as you are right now."
With that, she set out, waiting for Saber to finish before locking her house and picking a random direction to walk towards.
Tamamo broke away from watching the drone bob about to consider his earlier questions. "My Noble Phantasm and spells? Well with everything we have between us we shouldn't need to release my reflector, but let's just say that once I invoke it I won't have any restraints or cost on my magic. Things are going to go up like Tanabata!"
Wes was stunned. A Caster with no mana restrictions? Score!
"That's amazing, Tamamo!" he said excitedly.
"I rely on Witchcraft, you can use your Appraisal to learn more, but I mainly use it make these little beauties. I throw them at someone, and suddenly they are no longer an obstacle to our love. With my Spirit Break charm I can restore my prana when I strike a Servant with the reflector, or can create a barrier with the Aphotic Cave. There's more, but we don't want to spend all day talking about such dreary things. "
"Are you sure?" Wes said. "Because I can already think of a lot of things we can do with this. Could you like, make a whole wad of those tags? Then I could carry it with the drone and-"
Reaching out she grabbed his hand and gently rested it between her vulpine ears with a content sigh.
"After all, being with you is all I want from the Grail. So just being summoned has made me the happiest fox in the world."
Wes blushed. Suddenly the off-hand mentions to love and wifehood were becoming very hard to ignore or rationalize as airheaded jokes.
"W-wait. You're serious? Like seriously serious? Me?" he asked, pointing to himself. "You're saying you love me? Why?"
"Feh. You are right in that there is something I desire from this war. Something that supersedes my wishes."
The Amazonian queen turned to face him, towering over him from above.
"Fine. I will be your blade. But know that you are my Master in name only. I call the shots. If you want me to do anything I don't want to do, you're going to have to use one of those," she said, pointing at his command seals. "But you only get three. And we'll see how well-disposed I still am towards you when that number becomes zero."
She turned her back on him once again, sticking her arms out at her sides.
"Come. I will take you up on that offer of drinks."
