~{Millford Residence}~
Its never until Jacob does something new that he gains a new found appreciation for Magecraft. The Millford family line was a one trick pony, and while they did dabble in rituals, this was something entirely new. The rush of excitement filled him as he knew full well that he would be one of the few people in recorded history to ever be able to reach the Throne of Heroes. However reluctant he was to be standing here, he was thankful to be able to study something new.
The workshop, if one could call it that, was constructed in the cramp basement he had dug out over the last two years. It was always his intention to make it bigger, but competing in a ritual with some of the worlds most devious individuals was not something anyone would normally plan for. The walls were lined with cabinets and shelves containing books, relics, and various oddities while a small workbench sat in the back corner, upon it a box containing the only necessary part of the ritual. On the floor lay the circle, constructed of steel and silver, a testament to the strength and quality of the bond he was about to make.
Content with his work he stepped over the circle and grabbed the blade sitting in the box. A broken blade of a guillotine from the late eighteenth century would have been the cause of the untimely death of both vile and misunderstood people. With no surefire way of knowing what door this would unlock, he hesitated for a moment, then took his place before the circle.
"
Let silver and steel be the essence. Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation. Let my great master Notos be the ancestor. Raise a wall, against the wind that shall fall. Open the four cardinal gates. Come back from the block. Let the winds be at your back and carry you to my side." As the words left his lips he could feel a breeze coming down the stairs, a sign that his words were being heard. With blade in hand be traced it along the back of his neck, opening a wound for his blood to flow out and into his hand. After collecting enough he held his hand over the circle and continued the incantation, "
Fill. Fill. Fill. Fill. Fill." Uttering each word another drop fell to the floor and he could feel the surge of energy being poured into the circle. "
Let each be turned over five times, simply breaking asunder the fulfilled time."
"I vow here. I vow to command your talents in the name of Justice. I vow to punish those that have wronged by wronging them in turn. I vow to strike swift and silent, yet leave my message for those who wish to hear it. I vow this before the Grail and the seven spirits. If my voice be heard, and my will recognized, I beckon thee, answer. Come forth from the ring of restraint, protector of the balance!"
There was no great explosion of energy or darkening of the sky, just a flickering of the light that illuminated the basement. The circle remained empty. Solemn and still. Behind Jacob stood a figure wreathed in shadow, dressed in a old, tattered brown dress. If Jacob turned to face her he would find naught there, only to find her at his back once again. In a swirl of movement the broken fragment of the guillotine was swept up by a hand unseen, finding its way to the base of Jacob's neck, the hand that held it still and unwavering. Though whether from practice or conviction there would be no way to tell. The edge of the fragment still thrummed with residue Prana, its edge holding a pale, transient blue glow. The hand that held the fragment belonged to a young looking woman with Caucasian features with long blonde hair and hazel brown eyes that carefully scanned the room, taking in details both familiar and alien. It took her a moment to reconcile memories possessed in life with those granted upon the summoning. Her neck hurt and she remembered why.
“Who are you?” she said with a degree of uncertainty, her voice spoken in a language that was familiar to her yet non that she ever knew in life. A wealth of knowledge asserted itself, arranged itself, charging through her mind like fire. When next she spoke her voice lacked that uncertainty.
“Are you the one that summoned me? To this place, in this time? Are you my master?” she asked without emotion. The blade at Jacob's throat remained perfectly still, awaiting his answer. There could be no doubt as to the result of an unsatisfactory answer. No human was fast enough, even blessed with the gifts of Magecraft.
All was silent and still, even the dust in the air dangled like stars in the midnight sky, the only illumination originating from the blade. It was so expertly placed that a too deep a breath would draw blood and likely cause its holder to become impatient. Despite this, it was hard to hold still for Jacob, his mind running wild. This was his first summoning, and a long forgotten adolescent joy wanted him to celebrate, but the adult in him knew that this was only half way. The Pact has yet to be made. Nothing changed for several seconds, as both awaited a sine from the other.
The first noise to break through was a grunt from the bottom of the Master's throat. "
Jacob Millford," he responded to his captor. "
Guilty on all three accounts; and might I say most would find it rude to demand information before giving it. Especially toward your host." Despite being in his current position, Jacob knew that an unsatisfactory response was as good as an unsatisfactory answer. His words held a tone of approval, respecting the shadow that held him.
The young man's momentary silence did him more credit than he might realize. It showed his assailant that at the very least he knew to think before answering in haste, even when his life was in the balance. There was some fear there of course but the fact was that he easily mastered it in the heat of the moment. That was a skill that would be in useful during the days to come. The girl slowly drew the edge of the guillotine fragment away from his neck and backed away from him, discarding the fragment as she did so. Once separated she made a deliberate show of gathering up her tattered dress and curtsying, an elegant motion that ill-fitted her raggedy appearance.
“Master, I am so pleased to make your acquaintance, I am your humble Servant,” she said with no obvious hint of mockery or sarcasm, save for the dangerous look in her eyes.
“My name is Marie-Anne Charlotte de Corday d'Armont. You may call me Assassin, or any other name that pleases you when in the company of others. I trust you understand why this is the case.” Charlotte looked directly at the man that had summoned her and considered him for a moment. It was impossible to discern his temperament from appearance alone and words were such easy things to craft. A practical demonstration would be far more enlightening. But first there were details to dispense with.
“You have questions, Milord?”"
I have several questions," Jacob retorted, as he straightened his suit jacket and took in the sight before him. When he thought of Assassin, the class best known for stealth and killing, the figure before him would not be his first. She struck him as defenseless, not for her gender, but for her attire. The dress was defiantly Georgian era, and was evidence of her struggles during her final days. She said she was Charlotte Corday, and he was familiar with the stories of her, but there was little information, or perhaps few witnesses. Regardless, she was his, and he had to have faith in his servant if either of them were going to get out of the Grail War alive.
Jacob moved past his guest and started up the stairs, beckoning her to follow him. As far as suitable living goes, his house was something you might expect a college professor to live in. The stairway from his workshop emerged into his entry hallway, and once they both cleared the doorway Jacob slid the false wall close, perfectly concealing its entrance. Moving into the home they passed the rest of the rooms and ended up in the kitchen, where the faint smell of warm food was apparent.
Charlotte followed silently in her Masters wake as he led her above ground and into what appeared to be a kitchen of some measure. By now the knowledge granted by the Grail had fully asserted itself into her mind, removing at once any feeling of curiosity or vagueness that her environment would otherwise elicit. After a quick inspection of the room she found what she was looking for. On the counter top was a collection of kitchen knives, arranged into appropriately sized notches in a wooden block. She considered them for a moment before taking hold of one, testing its weight and balance before returning it. She repeated the act until her Masters voice caught her attention, causing her to turn towards him, her hands empty.
"
Are you hungry?" the Master asked gesturing to the stove. Upon it sat a single pot half full with a generic beef stew. Next to the stove on the counter was an empty bowl and some silverware. "
Please help yourself. I know you probably don't need it, but you haven't eaten in over two centuries."
Of all things he was offering her dinner. Had he been so confident of his ritual succeeding? Regardless much to her surprise she found that the food did indeed smell enticing. Almost enough to eat in fact had it not been for the memory of her execution ‘fresh’ in her mind. She found the idea of anything going down her throat repulsive to say the least.
“I have no need to eat,” she replied in affirmation to his offer and no motion toward him. She relented when he offered her a chair to sit upon however, since he was going to pains to be polite.
“Fine, I will sit but I will not eat,” she said as she allowed her Master to seat her at the table, a knife missing from the block but not in sight either.
“Thank you for the offer,” she said without any particular feeling to the words.
“
My next question is what does this contest mean to you?" It was then, with the pleasantries seemingly out of the way that her Master addressed what must have been to him a pressing concern. Her motivation. She was not obligated to answer such a question and elected to do exactly that. She turned her head on its side and smiled confidently at him.
“Questions like that may cost you more than you are willing to pay, consider carefully, Master,” she said, motioning with one hand to the top of the other, her meaning obvious in the circumstances.
In turn to her response Jacob chuckled and took a seat across from her. The being before his eyes intrigued him. Was she being coy and playing games, or was she being cautious? Perhaps this was the way she was in life, or perhaps being a spirit meant things change. "
Assassin is a particularly interesting word. There are many others like it that we use more often, but we save that particular one for special occasions. For example, you murder your neighbor, you slay your enemies, sacrifice your allies, but you assassinate those of value. As an Assassin you fought in life for a belief, for a cause that you dedicated your body and soul to. And here you are, thought by the world to be worthy of the Throne. I admire this, but therein lies my dilemma."Taking a moment Jacob undid the buttons on his shirt, revealing the command seals that rested on the center of his chest. It resembled the face paint of a harlequin, the left eye shedding a tear, the right eye in the center of a diamond, and a smile too wide to be natural. "
These are all the assurance I have of your assistance in the days to come. My cause is nothing special, I just want to make sure that this town is standing when the victor claims his or her prize. I know full well the damage a few Magi can do, yes there are rules, but I'd be ignorant if I thought everything would be fine. I ask that you stand by my side, or rather in my shadow, all things considered." As he spoke he smiled more, knowing how romantic he was making this ordeal sound. All those years of reading about heroes and here he was sounding like one. His desires were selfish, but it was one he was going to carry out. Assassin was a key part in this, and if she wanted to do things her own way, it would come to a head sooner or later, with Jacob dead most likely.
Charlotte listened politely, her face neutral throughout his little lecture as to the origin of her title and the meaning that it supposedly held. She allowed him to think whatever he would of her, his opinion of her mattered little in the greater scheme of things to come. When he unbuttoned his shirt she saw the exact nature of the command seal through which he could and no doubt would in the days to come impose his will upon her. A total of three commands that she could not disobey. That was the true source of a Masters power over his Servant. Charlotte wondered if that was part of the point that he was making. Whatever the case her Master seemed awfully fond of his own voice. Probably the kind who was schooled in rhetoric as a child.
“Words are pretty, like flowers. But like flowers they can be used to hide a great many things. I would hate to have to remove such an elegant tongue from such a handsome face,” Charlotte said with a pleasant smile and cheerful tone that ill-suited her comment. Like her Master she was also one who was gifted in the way of words, her time in the convent reading the works of Voltaire, Rousseau and the like. Her words had served as a weapon just as much as any blade that she may have carried in life. Perhaps more so. Words held power. Words alone had resulted in the deaths of thousands.
“May I suggest that we dispense with the rhetoric, at least for now? Let us speak plainly, Master.”Charlotte swung her legs up onto the table top, the knife that she had taken appearing in her hand from within the folds of her ruined dress. She began to carefully wipe the blade with her own hair.
“I will serve my function in this arrangement. And I will act as you see fit. You are the Master after all.” Her voice was light and conversational, the hint of menace that it had held before absent, even from her eyes. Jacob, however, was becoming slightly agitated, and his eyes reflected this as well as the corner of his mouth. That would be the third time she had implied harm to him, by action or words. How was he to react to this? She called him Master, which implied obedience, but he wanted an ally, not a dog. "
The flowers you grow appear to require some pruning as well, but I respect their boldness. "
Charlotte burst out laughing at his growing impatience.
“Oh I like that, you have some fire in your belly Master. But like I say, words are pretty but easily crafted things. I suppose that we will see in the goodness of time.” She looked at him and smiled. Silence befell them for a moment, Jacob's fingers tapping the table one after another.
“So what kind of Master are you I wonder, how far will you go?”"
I am the kind of Master that plays to win, because the alternative is death. I don't care about the grail, I'll cross that road when I get there. The contest is a different story. I have no qualms about killing a Master because I have no love for other Magi, they are all the same. My specialty in Magecraft is Wind, assume I can do anything. " He spoke in a manner of fact tone, as if this was common knowledge, all the while getting up from the table and fetching a bottle of beer from the refrigerator.
Charlotte kicked her feet off of the table and followed him, her movements were light and bouncy and she started to swirl the dress around as if dancing with herself. When her Master had turned around he found that, as per her usual trick, she was already behind him and that he was oblivious to the movements she just made. Of all the traits that defined her Class agility and luck ruled over all else. Staring blankly at her he circled his fingers, and the cap all but flew off his beer without his touch, enforcing his last point about his abilities. "
Lastly, " he started after taking a deep drink, "
my faith in your abilities are what keep you here. The moment I see a chance to get a better footing I'm going to take it. If you fall I won't run, I will continue to fight and make another pact when I am able to.”
“Faith huh?” she asked with some degree of curiosity. Faith was a concept that she greatly familiar with, having had much of it in life. The moment of her resurrection into this debased form had robbed her of that. It made her pity him. As she swirled around her dress began to glow with a blue glow that encompassed ever inch of her clothing, seemingly melting it away. Within that same glow new shapes started to form, revealing her body for only a heartbeat before clothing her with clothes that would suit the modern day. Last to form was a long brown scarf, tied snugly around her neck, fluttering in the glow of energy as it dissipated. What remained was a modern looking blonde haired woman no different from any human in appearance, save for the knife still in her hand.
For a moment she stunned Jacob when she changed her apparel. He didn't realize how attractive she was, though she was obviously pretty. The moment passed quickly and he knew it would be hard for him to forget. There are certain advantages that a female killer will have that a man just won't, as was just proven nary a second ago.
If Charlotte had noticed her Master’s momentary gaze at her body she made no mention of it, instead examining herself in the nearest reflective surface, appraising her now ‘modern’ appearance. She was surprised by how pleasing the end result was, the clothes both comfortable and practical, a far cry from the clothes that had been common when she was still alive. In fact what she was now wearing would have been downright scandalous in her day. It pleased her to see how things had changed.
"
Having said that, which spirits do you think you will have the most trouble with? " Having Assassin was a good place to start by Jacob's book. He could gather the most information and take out the weaker Masters, leaving their spirits to linger for a short time. If she could carry him to the end all the better, but he needed all the options available to him.
“That all depends on how you intend to use me Milord. As a combatant I will serve poorly against any who made it his trade in life, save as a distraction. Against one of your kind, all frail and mortal, I will not disappoint.” Charlotte offered him the knife in a conciliatory fashion.
“My Noble Phantasm,” she said indicating the knife. She then swept her arm out to include the cutlery that lined the cooking surfaces.
“Those are also my Noble Phantasm’s. Any object that bears an edge or point, no matter how crude, attains certain qualities upon my touch. Qualities that are ‘suitable for assassination’. No being is immune to their touch. None. But such enchantment is transient. As such my Noble Phantasm is nigh impossible to destroy, even by the Noble Phantasms of the might Saber or the Raging Berserker.”Her disclosure of her talents got his gears turning, he started thinking about various approaches they could make. "
Interesting. Berserker and Rider could cause us the most trouble. Caster is the wild card and I'm not worried about Archer." Each spirit would be one worthy of a legend, whose abilities rival those of a Magus, and in many cases surpass them. Between the two of them there was little in the way of brute strength, but when others are so ready to kill all they had to do was stand back and wait.
“You are correct, even Archer will not perceive my presence as that of a Servant, provided that my actions remain unhostile in nature,” Charlotte said as a matter of fact as she turned to face her Master.
“Berserker is more likely to kill its own Master than us, provided we ‘encourage’ it a little. We need only prod it at the most opportune moment. As for Caster a knife in the dark should suffice. It is Lancer and Saber who concerns me, for they will be both stronger and faster than I.” She felt her assessment accurate enough, based on generic information gifted to her by the Grail. She would need more information before she could offer a truly accurate assessment however.
You know your potential better than anyone.” For all her poke and play at him, Jacob though he would offer her a challenge. "
Perhaps a demonstration is in order, since words are just that." He reached into a drawer and drew a butter knife. Charlotte watched with mute curiosity as her Master made a show of exchanging blades with her, the sharp, broad one replaced by a relatively blunt instrument whose edge could barely cut paper, let alone armor. It didn’t take much imagination to ascertain his intentions.
"
Cut the bottle into three sections," he ordered, releasing the bottle before he even finished the sentence. He had used her own words against her. He wanted her to show him rather than tell him. Charlotte was starting to like Jacob more by the minute.
“Oh, is that all?” she said innocently. Her eyes narrowed, the dangerous glint momentarily returning.
Depending upon both the speed of the Servant and the perceptive capacity of the observer the movements of any Servant at speed ranged from nothing at all to an indistinct blur of motion. It was no different when Charlotte moved, reaching the bottle before it had barely begun its descent. With two clean cuts the glass was sliced diagonally into three distinct pieces and went smashing into the ground.
Tracking Assassin's movements proved difficult for Jacob to follow. Jacob was able to catch glimpses of her motions, like a poorly make flip book. It was an almost infatuating display finesse and menace, many artiest would have given much could their muse give them an ounce of the inspiration that she just gave him. His face portrayed none of this, on the outside he remained as he was, but on the inside he was in awe.
"
I suppose that will," he started, but stopped when he felt the knife get lighter. Looking down he saw that the butter knife was back in his hand, and that Assassin had reacquired the one she had originally picked up. "
Do. It would appear that,” he started to talk again, but was interrupted by the sound of something metallic hitting the ground. The butter knife had disintegrate into multiple neatly cut pieces. Not only did she cut the bottle, but she had time to eviscerate the knife he handed her.
“I like this one, if you don’t mind I would prefer to keep it, at least for now,” she said conversationally.
I had hoped to find you something more suitable, but it is yours. Take it with you when you return to the Throne."
“Suitability, much like my Noble Phantasm is a transient quality, a sword may serve well on the battlefield, but a knife serves far better in the dead of night. The crux of my ability is that I am bound to no particular weapon and as such, no particular tactic. An Assassin is nothing if not a creature of opportunity after all. The only rule is that the object be possessed of a point or an edge. Some blunt, crude implement will not serve.”Is that how it is, he asked rhetorically while he pat her on the shoulder as a sign of approval.
“I’m so pleased to meet with your approval,” Charlotte said with obvious amusement while curtsying to her Master.
Jacob moved past her, arriving at the bookshelf he pulled out a pamphlet of sorts and extended it to Assassin. "
You're first job, if you can call it that." The paper was a fold out map of the city and surrounding area. "
Memorize every street and any place you deem important. For extra credit let me know how many blue houses there are." She quickly glanced at the layout of the town before folding the map back up and slipping it into her coat pocket. An onerous task to be sure but as vital as any.
"
When you are done, down the entryway, second door on the left, there is a guest bedroom. Its yours." She had refused his food and most of his pleasantries, but he wasn't just being polite, he believed her to be more than just a familiar. As it was her job to fight for him, it was his job to care for her, or so he believed. "
Use it as you wish. Sleep, meditate, exercise, entertain your vices. Or don't. Is there anything else you wish to discuss tonight?"She had no reason to disapprove of this, even Servants had need of ‘personal’ time, however she had no idea how she would occupy herself when left on her own. She wondered what kind of ‘vices’ this world had to offer. The Grail was not so forthcoming with such non essential information. Not that it mattered to her. There would be plenty of time, provided that all went well. There was only one question that came to mind, however the subject was unpleasant and she would leave it for now. At least until she knew her Masters mind better.
“Goodnight Master, try not to lose your head, we’re going to need it,” she called cheerfully as she waved over her shoulder as she headed toward the door, her pace suggesting no great hurry.