7:30 pm, Lykavittos Hill, Athens
Atop the tallest of the mountain-pillars of Athens was a small chapel dedicated to Saint George. Now a tourist attraction, a modern diner sat next to the small church. It sat on the North side within the Old City, and from it you could see the entirety of Athens.
Monica and Chrysaor sat on the stone bench that lined the mountain's peak, which acted as both a railing and observation deck. As the sun began to sink over the horizon, the city was awash with orange light reflecting off the white marble and concrete below. Past the Acropolis, the hazy sea could be seen on all sides, as if the skyline were reaching out to embrace the city. They sat with their bodies facing each other, one leg up on the seat, gazing out.
It was truly a beautiful sight. As stressful and rushed as the afternoon had been, the sense of peace was undeniable, even as dread ate away at her heart. Still, she was pleased that she had left the Church of St George for last. Of the churches she had selected, it was the furthest from Glyfada as well as the smallest, and open twenty-four hours. But she hadn't expected this. The view was breath-taking, and the meal was filling, not mentioning it was the only meal she had today. She offered to treat Chrysaor knowing he didn't need to eat, but he refused adamantly despite her persistence, allowing only a raspberry lemonade, which he was curious about. Though her offer had been genuine, she couldn't help but be grateful. She was strapped for cash in the first place, and her job security was falling by the day, so buying overly-expensive touristy food wasn't in the budget. Of course, there were more pressing matters at hand.
In their journey across Athens, they had come up empty. No sign of the so-called overseer Chrysaor had mentioned. She didn't know whether to be afraid or concerned, or if this was somewhat expected, like a job application. The "Grail War" was supposed to be secret, right? It wouldn't make sense if they could just walk into a church and suddenly meet with the referee of a game played under the cover of darkness. And seeing as the overseer was the only one who knew of the war, unless they met the man face-to-face there would be know way to arrange for a meeting through official means. Chrysaor had attempted to console her, saying that the overseer would likely seek them out once he had heard of their visit, and that they only needed to wait. She had wanted to ask how exactly he would find them without her contact information, the question was on the tip of her tongue, but she realized she didn't want to know the answer.
They had been sitting there for a long time in tranquil silence. The furious wind of the mountain-top easily drowned out the noise of the other visitors, and one couldn't make out the busy streets of the city past the tall, crowded buildings. It was truly serene, and even though Chrysaor was sitting directly across from her, there was a sense of solitude. A feeling as if you were alone with your thoughts. It almost made her wonder why she hadn't come here before, but she knew. This... the beauty, the view, the sensation, it wasn't something she thought about. She considered herself pragmatic, doing only what was necessary, but moments like this made her wonder if that wasn't a mistake.
She looked over to Chrysaor for the first time in... how long? She didn't know, but his expression was far more curious. He looked out over the city as she had been, but rather than a peaceful or even somber expression, he looked... distressed? His expression was furrowed; he looked almost angry, his eyes piercing an invisible point on the horizon.
"Are you okay?"
His eyes drifted lazily over to her, but as realization crossed his face, his expression softened to something calm and inquisitive. He had only barely registered her voice past the wind and his own mental haze.
She repeated again, slightly louder and with more emphasis, "Are you okay?"
"Of course!" He shrugged his shoulders as if to let the worry wash off him, "Just thinking; that's all."
"What about?"
His reassuring smile faltered. 'Just thinking' was what people said when they didn't want to talk, but it also left little conversational options beyond further inquiry- it was a bad habit of her's. Besides, if he, the one who was supposed to guard her, was worried, didn't she deserve to know why?
His eyes drifted back towards the Acropolis, which could be seen in almost perfect detail; it wasn't that far away and their current position was far above even it.
"The... temple on the hill...I'm just wondering if there isn't anything going on over there. Seems important."
"The Acropolis?"
"Acropolis?" He looked back to it with some thought, "Yeah, that fits."
Something clicked in her mind, "Have you never been to Athens? Surely you heard about it."
"No, this city didn't exist in my time. I've been in this area, granted, but even the ancient parts of the city are entirely unfamiliar."
"Oh."
Athens was ancient history, along with Sparta; it was hard to think of a time more ancient than ancient, but that ancient-ancient history was sitting right in front of her.
"What makes you think something's there?"
"The... magic of the city is at its strongest there. That tends to happen in places of great importance and historicity. Especially of a religious significance. It would be a good place for a mage to hide out, or a good place to fight."
She processed his words. It wasn't hard to imagine the Acropolis having magical significance, at least, once you accepted the existence of such things. "Do you want to go there?"
"Absolutely not. Not if we're trying to keep a low profile. It's possible the overseer is there, but, if that's the case, he probably already knows about us from our visit to other churches. So there's no point."
"What if he's not there?"
She looked to Chrysaor with pleading eyes. She dared not speak it, but the possibility of there not being an overseer at all was seeming more likely.
As for Chrysaor, his expression was hard to read as always, but a note of discomfort bled through his façade. The soft smile she'd become acquainted with returned to his expression as he reached out and touched her upper arm, "Then he's somewhere else. Don't worry."
She was unconvinced, and returned a glare that made sure he knew as much.
Unfazed, he returned his gaze to the Acropolis, before hurriedly removing his hand from her arm and standing up. He brushed off his pants and looked at her with the same soft, fake smile, reaching out a hand to help her up, "C'mon. We should be going. No point in hanging around any longer than we have to."
She took his with hesitation. "Are we in danger?"
"No, no. But I think we've been here long enough."
She cast a forlorn look to the church, but allowed him to pull her from her seat. They hurried downstairs to the funicular. Every thirty minutes the metro-like apparatus took people up and down the inside of the mountain at what must have been a 70-degree angle. It was fully automated, and they still had over ten minutes before it was scheduled to return down the mountain. He was impatient, and went to take her down the stairs,
"I'm not going down the stairs, Chrysaor. I'm tired. Can't we just wait a few minutes?"
He sighed deeply and tapped his foot with force, "Of course. No problem."
They sat on a cushioned bench while they waited. The whole time he sat looking straight ahead, his leg shaking vigorously as he failed to hide his anxiety. She sat with tension, wanting to help but not knowing how.
Finally, it was time, and they boarded the funicular, but his anxiety didn't fade.
When they reached the bottom, he practically marched out of the facility and she was nearly jogging to keep up.
Cab drivers parked outside called out, but he responded with a swift "No thank you!", not impolite, but assertive enough to make his point.
"What's going on Chry-"
He turned with supernatural swiftness and clasped his hand around her mouth, looking behind her to the cabbies before returning to her. "-George. My name is George."
Why was he being so weird? She couldn't hide her frustration, and leaned in with a hushed but hissing whisper, "What's going on!?"
He backed up, raising his hands apologetically, but returning a serious expression and saying simply, "We need to go. We've been here too long."
They began walking again at a quick pace. She walked next to him, looking him dead in the eye as he looked forward, "If we're in that much of a hurry, then we should just take a cab."
"I don't trust them."
"You shouldn't! They're shady! But they're faster than walking!"
"They could also be disguised."
"What!? What are you talking about!?"
"You never know with magecraft."
He looked up to the Acropolis, its side illuminated with the orange glow of the setting sun.
'It would be a good place for a mage to hideout.' That's what he said, wasn't it? The problem occurred to her. If the Acropolis was H[...]arts, then they had been loitering in front of Platform 9 3/4 for the last several hours, maybe the whole afternoon. She remembered other things as well. Assassins could hide their presence, if one disguised themselves as human, there'd be no way of knowing. Chrysaor's paranoia seemed suddenly more justified. She was new to this whole thing, too new. It was best to follow his judgement.
"Alright, so where are we going?"
"Home, presumably."
It was strange hearing someone else refer to her apartment as their home. "We can probably cut around the Acropolis and find a metro entrance. Is that alright with you?"
They had taken the metro up into the city, so he was familiar. "Secluded, underground, and full of witnesses. Perfect."
"Alright."
They rushed off, but she had one last thing to say.
"Just so you know-"
"What?"
"George doesn't suit you. Like- at all."
"What would you suggest then?"
She thought for a moment. "Chris."
"Chris..." He mulled it over for a moment, "Works for me."
It was strange seeing him without his tranquil smile. Unsettling.
...