10:45pm, The Alghul Villa
Xander stepped out of the odd cab and closed the door behind him. He moved to the front of the car in order to discuss payment, but the cabby just pulled away without a word otherwise, nearly running over his foot in the process.
Not long after his confrontation with Chauncey, the car appeared from nowhere and without warning, offering to take him the rest of the way to his destination. Though the whole situation was strange, in his long career he'd experienced things far stranger than a mystery cabbie, and so chose not to question it. Instead, he pushed that strangeness aside and moved to the front door of the mountain villa for his first meeting with Aisha and her elusive Caster.
After rapping on the door, it took only a few moments for it to open- Aisha on the other side.
This- this was more strange to him than the car. Aisha, to put it mildly, was the kind of person for whom doors were opened, not the sort that opened them herself. She was more likely to call to the person behind the door to have him let himself in, or else to establish some mechanism that would open the door through magical means- even something as simple as having a skeleton do it for her. But, for whatever reason, there she was. Something in her tired, purple eyes told him that a change had occurred within her, but what he couldn't say.
'Had her eyes always been purple?
...
'Must be a trick of the light.'
Dressed in a men's red velvet button-up, sleeves rolled, and suit pants with a bloodied rag hung from her waist, the necromancer grunted with acknowledgement, "Ah, there you are. Come in."
Following her inside, he found an open-floor cabin with general spaces reserved for the kitchen, dining and relaxing rather than individual rooms. There was also, notably, a large diorama in the center of the space: a model of Athens almost certainly either used for or the product of magecraft. But, rather than the quaintness of the cabin or the strangeness of the model, there was something first and foremost that caught his eye: Caster.
Sitting in a dining chair set parallel to the far wall, which was nothing but a window, his bare chest was exposed. Bandages were wrapped across much of his upper chest and lower neck and Xander could make out the pink and black marks of burns around their edges. On a side table set behind the chair, the remnants of gauze and cloth could be seen surrounding a small blue box. It was plainly obvious from her rolled up sleeves and the slight, reddish moisture on the tips of Aisha's fingers that she'd been performing some sort of first aid, though, from his limited observation, she'd likely completed dressing the wounds not long ago, perhaps just before he entered.
It was another sort of menial labor she'd never ordinarily bother herself with, but then again he didn't know the nature of their relationship, though acts such as these made him think that perhaps they were closer than he'd imagined.
She paid no attention to him as she crossed the room, rubbing her hands on that bloodied towel hung from her waist, "There's wine on the counter, help yourself if you like."
Looking to the bar that separated the kitchenette from the rest of the space, there was indeed a bottle of red wine with three glasses beside it. It did worry him that the bottle was unmarked. Caster's true identity was Dionysus, correct? While drinking wine made from the hands of its inventor would surely be a story to tell later, he wasn't sure it was proper for the occasion. Things were much too serious to go around experimenting like a teenager at a college party.
Instead, he turned his eyes to Caster, who sat leaning towards the window and looking out, his left arm perched like a vulture on the chair's arm. This was his first time meeting the man face-to-face, this was true, but, even so, he was caught somewhat off-guard. From the initial sketch they'd received, as well as the impression he received of the man when he'd appeared to him in his dreams the previous night, though this impression was more empathic than visual, it could be plainly seen that Caster was a man of charisma. He exuded a sort of confidence that could only ever be found among gods and fools, a rare confidence that inspires equal parts loyalty and passion in those who follow him. He was not one to be taken lightly: his tongue was silvered and his eyes were sharp.
But from the man as he was, he found not so much confidence as annoyance. Caster's lips turned down at their edge, and he glared out the window as if the very horizon had wronged him. It was clear even to a stranger that his heart had been brought low, and that his mind had cause to wander, the worst part being that Xander likely already knew the reason.
Unclear as to the expected ritual, he stood at attention a respectful distance away, "Caster. It's a pleasure to finally meet."
The gold-eyed Caster shook his head quickly and suddenly, as if waking from a dream, before turning to acknowledge his visitor with a soft smile, "Ah, yes, Xander, was it? There was something you wished to discuss I recall, though I imagine much of that... subject... has already been broached."
Xander did his best to swallow the lump in his throat before continuing, "... Chauncey was one of the points of order, yes."
That small smile fell away alongside his gaze, "Well, I commend you at least for trying to bring it to my attention. He's an incorrigible fool, so this course may have been the best for us in the long run."
Though the words themselves were harsh, there didn't appear to be malice behind them. The reproach was passive and matter-of-fact, as if his heart were busy somewhere else in his mind, too distracted to bother itself with their conversation.
"Can I ask what's become of him?"
Xander's expression fell, though he tried to hide it. It was not so much grief, more like pity: mourning not the man who died, but the fact that his death was needless. This city was Caster's domain; there was surely no escape for him. Then again, where did Caster's wounds come from?
"I imagine that you... took care of the problem."
The grimace that left Caster's face at the start of their discussion returned: a look of utter hatred and disgust as his eyes shifted back to the window with a hidden fire, "He shouldn't be an issue anymore." His hand began to move towards his bandaged chest without his meaning to, "Unfortunately, he did escape the city, but, as much of a fool as he is, I doubt he's foolish enough to return here."
"I wouldn't be so sure about that. From what I know of him, Chauncey always chooses the most foolish option available." Frustration began to well up in his chest, thinking of how his actions had undermined the entire operation, "He's too prideful. Whatever you've done to him, I imagine he'll do everything in his power to give it back tenfold. You shouldn't underestimate his pettiness."
Caster's turned lips peeled back to reveal his white teeth, the fire in his eyes turning to a blaze- but he composed himself, falling back to a disturbingly flat expression.
Behind him, Aisha was collecting the various implements on the table, returning them to the open first aid kit, not seeming to be paying much attention.
Caster's tense body cricked and cracked as he stood from his chair and rose to his full stature, rolling his shoulders all the way. He allowed his hand to fall on the chair's back, resting on it, caressing it, while he studied the seat with cold eyes. The caressing slowed to stillness, and he gripped the back of the chair with white knuckles...
-Without warning he flung the chair with all the strength and agility of a tiger, slamming it against the window-wall and smashing it to pieces that flew across the room, a sizable chunk of the leg deflected off of Aisha's forearms as she moved to protect her face with a squeal.
As the chair burst, Caster's body flinched in pain- the wrapped burns becoming agitated. He would stare out that window for some time, collecting his breath, and when he finally turned back to Xander- his face was cold and still, his eyes burning with divine rage.
"You are ignorant, and so I will choose to forgive you- but let me tell you something: there is nothing in this universe more petty than a god. I assure you, he is not the one looking for revenge here... not yet."
"Right... I- I understand. If it isn't too-"
Before he could finish, Aisha moved between the two men with a fierce look. He could already make out a black-blue bruise on her arm , "Caster! That's enough!" She huffed, "I'm the one who hired Chauncey. If you're upset with somebody, it should be me, and I won't allow this sort of tantrum from you."
Caster's eyes went wide, not with anger, and certainly not with fear, but surprise: pleasant surprise. A wide, if somewhat apologetic grin rose to his face, "Ah, Aisha darling, I can only apologize. I promise I'll personally replace that chair for you."
As Caster turned to his Master, there was something strange about him: he looked at his Master like a parent to their child, or a teacher to their student, even, arguably, like an owner to his pet. Once again, Xander found himself wondering what the precise nature of their relationship was.
-But Caster only locked eyes with Aisha for so long, instead turning to Xander with a dramatic flourish and the same patronizing grin on his face, "I apologize to you as well. I seem to have forgotten the laws of hospitality. Matters like these are no excuse for mistreating a guest."
The Servant shifted his shoulders as if he were putting on a shirt, and gold particles began to gather around his chest from out the ether, rippling around him like rolling waves before solidifying into fabric: a light purple dress shirt that automatically tucked into his pants. The bandages could still be seen around the base of his neck, as well as the burn marks that slipped out from underneath them.
It occurred to the mercenary that the Servant and Master had a similar sense of style. He began to feel self-conscious about the layers of dust, blood, and grime that had gathered on his own clothes. Compared to his company, he was severely underdressed.
With an air of levity so far unknown to the evening, Caster strut across the space towards the bar, proceeding to sit himself down, pour himself a drink and gesture for Xander to sit next to him.
Aisha, apparently satisfied with the development, moved to a couch nearby the city model, relaxing there with her arms crossed to listen to the incoming conversation, but not to participate herself.
Caster spun the wine in his hand and shot it down his throat like brandy. Xander could've sworn the color of the wine had changed slightly when he'd spun it, but he didn't have time to inquire as the god of wine continued the conversation the moment he sat down.
"So, I believe your question was about our next steps?"
"Uh- yes. That's right."
"Well, as for the devil-user," Surprisingly, the same lightness carried in his voice, no sign of the previous rage, "I've modified the domain around the city so that there will be no calls in or out, by magecraft or by radio. He can't conspire with your partners without reentering the city, and, the moment he does, I'll move to counter him by whatever means."
It was difficult for the mercenary to adapt to the stark contrast in the Servant's demeanor, but he followed as best as he was able, trying not to let his discomfort show, "Hm. That works for the moment, but don't you worry such drastic action as secluding the city will call unwanted attention? It's difficult enough to keep the lid on things as-is."
"Hah! The time for pussy-footing has passed, friend. Undoubtedly, mages on the outside have already been keeping watch, even with my protections from clairvoyance, only debating whether to get involved. Besides, we already have a 'leak' in the devil-mage, and the war will end within five days regardless; they lack the time and resources to interfere in any serious way."
"Five days? That's a pretty dire prediction."
"Not at all. All seven Servants have been summoned. Rider and Archer have formed a fatal rivalry, Lancer's gotten tied up with both of them, and Berserker and his Master have played very aggressively- pushing the war forward by forcing the other parties to act. Saber and Assassin have remained neutral in the central conflict so far, but the fights are becoming more and more explosive, so it's only a matter of time before they're caught in the crossfire of the other four." He turned to Xander with a sly smirk, "Five days. No more, and quite possibly less."
The mercenary's brow furrowed. The war, as with any and all wars, was certainly a powder keg, always on the brink. But then, the fact that the brink was so unexpectedly close was unnerving, especially since he and his team had only just arrived, and arrived late it would seem.
"You talked about the other parties, but, if I may, what are you and Aisha doing to contribute to the war?"
Caster lifted a finger to scold him, "Tsk-Tsk-Tsk. You're not supposed to know what we're up to, remember? For whatever consolation, we do have a plan, but I'll leave it at that. No, the real question, Xander, is what are you doing to contribute?"
Xander nodded. He didn't like being left out of the plan, but such secrecy was all but common among mages and their contemporaries, "Our team has reached the conclusion that there isn't anything major to be done until after Berserker falls. Without your veil maintaining the secrecy of the war, Berserker would be too much of a liability to the secrecy of magecraft."
"Yes, naturally, but what are you all going to do about it?"
"... We've made contact with Team Saber, and they've agreed to try and arrange contact with Assassin on our behalf. We can't make a plan until we know what Assassin, and to a lesser extent Saber, is capable of, but the general idea is to set a trap that'll spring after Berserker falls using whatever skills they offer."
"So Saber and Assassin are acquainted, are they? How acquainted?"
Xander could only shrug, "Unclear, though it seems to me that they probably aren't friendly from the way Saber and his Master spoke of them."
Caster's lips pursed in thought, "Yes... very good. Please do keep me informed on that front, the primary four Servants are taking most of my attention, so I'd be in your debt if you could gather information on those two. And what does your team think of all this? What's left of them, that is."
Xander was briefly reminded of Aisha's notes. According to her testimony, Caster couldn't follow Assassin's movements at all, though perhaps he was unwilling to admit his own weakness. Even so, he allowed the conversation to continue.
"That's part of the problem, actually. The disappearance of Quayyum set everyone on edge, and I imagine Chauncey's absence will make things far worse. I suspect that-" He paused here, unable himself to believe what was simply true, "I suspect that Filza and Radiya were complicit in his conspiracy. It.. pains me, but I'm not sure we can trust them at this point. Perhaps it'd be better to let them leave as well. When this whole ordeal ends, Filza will have no reason to think I'm under your control, but, until then, I don't think I have even her good faith."
Caster stared wistfully into the distance, "Yes, love is a tricky thing isn't it? It makes fools out of even the wisest men." He returned his attention to the mercenary, "Xander, the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, so they say, but the way to a woman's is far more direct."
It was hard not to be offended. This was his marriage, after all, but, out of respect for his employer, he entertained Caster's ramblings, "What do you mean?"
His smile tightened, "There are few things a woman loves more than a man on his knees. When her man is brought low, that is when the woman shines brightest. See, in his darkest hour, she was there to comfort him, and to restore him to glory, thus bringing glory to herself. In other words, friend, a woman's trust is earned through her sympathy. Convince her of your victimhood, and she'll be putty in your hand. Perhaps this 'Radiya' will be a harder nut to crack, but, in the end, she's outvoted two-to-one, isn't she?"
Xander cast a tentative look at Aisha. He wasn't sure if she was the kind of woman who'd tolerate such borderline speech, but, seeing no reaction from her, he only gave a suspicious look to the speaker, "I suppose that means you have a plan?"
He made a grand show of a shrug, "I AM the Servant Caster, after all. Always more of an entrepreneur than an athlete."
Caster flew from his seat at the bar, dancing across the room as if waltzing with an invisible partner, "The mighty and honorable Xander Haq, alongside his dubious but close friend Chauncey, and under the unwitting influence of the villainous Caster's suggestion magecraft, found themselves lured into a trap that took the poor devil mage's life. Xander, forging his inner strength with the embers of his one true love, only barely survived, but still found himself in the villain's clutches, captured and tortured over the course of the night until orchestrating his grand escape the next evening and running to the waiting arms of his dear and beloved wife."
He gave Xander an almost seductive look, "Quite the story, eh?"
"Quite the story, indeed."
He scratched his chin. He never liked the idea of lying to his wife, but it could paper over the confusion nicely, at least until the full story could be safely revealed. But then, maybe it was better if the deception was kept under wraps forever.
"Are you sure she'd believe it?"
Caster flipped his hand to dismiss the question, "Add some tears and she'll believe whatever you say. And why not? Her poor husband was gone and missing for a full day with no explanation, and what could have befallen him if not a kidnapping? I really hope your marriage isn't so dysfunctional that you wandering off on your own is more likely than something else getting in the way."
"It isn't- or, it shouldn't be. But what after that? After something like this, with Chauncey and Quayyum 'dead' and me 'kidnapped', Filza would definitely want to leave the moment I'm back."
His face suddenly became much more grim, "She mustn't. If she leaves, she'll find Chauncey, the plan will collapse, and so will your marriage- seeing as your deception would be exposed. No- once you have her around your finger..." He stopped to taste the words on his tongue, "-Just make a sob story about avenging your fallen comrades, or something similar. We can workshop it. Until then-"
Bzzzt-Bzzzt
...
Xander's phone vibrated in his pocket. The room became still, even the apathetic Aisha watching him closely. Slowly, he reached into his pants and took out his phone- sure enough, there, on the screen, was his wife's name. The phone continued to buzz in his hand, demanding that he answer, and he almost did. But a feeling like white frost grasped at his heart, and, whether due to courage or fear, he clicked the power button and silenced the call, placing the device face-down on the bar.
Caster's smile curled and creaked across his tanned cheeks, "Good- very good. Now go take a shower for the gods' sake. You're getting dust everywhere."
....