1:35pm, Filopappou Hill, on the Outskirts of the Acropolis
Heping began her stretches. With the broad success of yesterday, and the ever-present threat of the war, it came as common sense for both Master and Servant to take another day to train and shore-up her abilities. Things were calm for now, yes, but one could only guess how long this false peace would last. With the threat of the War looming, her mind kept wandering, as did her eyes, and especially to the sky over the Acropolis, forever anticipating something, someone, to appear there.
Pigsy manifested on his favorite rock, three to-go boxes filled with food in his lap, licking his pork-chops in anticipation. Summoning his rake, he spun the head on the shaft, and when the head clicked back into place, it was generating a consistent fire, and he began to reheat his food with the flaming divine weapon.
One would've assumed that he wasn't paying attention, but, although he wasn't quite in his 'military mode', he was still attentive to his student and Master, and so, as he continued to roast his food,
"So... what's on yer mind? -oink-."
There was plenty on her mind, so she took the first thought off the pile, "Do you really think that she did not know who we were?"
He shrugged, watching the flaming rake intently, "Could be. Could also be that it wasn't Saber's Master."
Her mind became so preoccupied that her stretches stopped, her body not able to maintain its autopilot, "Really?"
"Hmh. Remember when he said that he was trying to coordinate with other Masters? Maybe they were negotiating. Could be that no one there was his Master, or maybe it was that Eastern lady. -oink-. Although... I can tell ya that there was another Servant there."
Her focus shifted entirely to her Servant, "How's that?"
"Hehe," He tapped the side of his snout with his free hand, "Never underestimate a pig's nose. See, Servants don't have the same kinda scent as people do. It's subtle, and a lot harder to trace too, but it lacks a certain quality to it -oink-."
"Is that so? Then who was it?"
"Who else? That chick in the wheelchair. I couldn't tell ya more than that, though."
'Why would a Servant be in a wheelchair?
'If she's a Servant, then why did she look exactly like the other girl?'
Various questions weaved through her mind, but she was more curious about her own Servant than someone else's, "Is your nose really that powerful?"
"It is. Powerful enough to know when his drunk chicken is completely baked. Reeheehee," He lifted the whole chicken patty on a fork and took a massive bite, "Ai kohld eephan trahk dow daht ladee iph yoo liehk. (I could even track down that lady if you like)."
He went to oink, but the throat muscles contracted around his half-swallowed food, and he had to bash on his esophagus to push it down.
"Hmm." She thought back on the people they've met, "Then... could you track down the Master of Rider?"
He took a breath, having freed his esophagus, and shook his head, "I can't, which is why I can tell ya that he's still alive. If he were dead, I would smell his corpse, but I can't find him, -oink- so he must be alive... somewhere."
Her mind and eyes wandered back to the Acropolis that sat on the horizon.
"I know, I know, and yer right. We ain't gonna win without that alliance. -oink- '' He pointed at Heping with his plastic fork, "We'll go the moment we know they're back. Until then, there ain't nothin' to do except make sure that we're at our best when that happens. -oink-"
But that wasn't what she was thinking about. That idea remained buried beneath another seed of a thought that germinated in her mind, blooming into a twisted tree of confused malice and hesitant hatred,
"Does that mean you could track down my... Master of Archer as well?"
Though the mood had already shifted to something solemn, the words she never spoke were louder than those she did, and Pigsy's spirits fell to match, "Nah -oink-. I was in Spirit Form when we met him, so I never got his scent. Can't track Servant scents either: the trail's too weak."
He shrugged and continued to eat his food, this time digging into the rice that came with the chicken dish.
The puzzle pieces didn't quite click together in her mind, and just before she was ready to drop the conundrum, "Wait... then how did you get the scents in the restaurant?"
Lancer paused, fork-full of rice halfway between the plate and his mouth.
The two sat in tense silence before he finally began to stammer, "I-I mean, come on! What's the point of going to a restaurant if ya don't take in the smells -oink-?! That's like half the point of going!"
"You manifested without my permission?!"
His face was beet red, "What's the big deal?!"
"Pigsy! There were people!"
"So?! Nobody saw me! -And don't call me Pigsy!"
"How would you know if somebody saw you!?"
"I-! Uh..." He stood sharply, summoning his rake to his side, "Drop and give me twenty!"
"No."
He paused, unsure what to do, before flashing forward in a single motion to take the shaft of his rake to her shin. It clanged against her without so much as a budge, bouncing off the black matrix that moved to protect her. He pouted with an expression so flushed that it looked unhealthy before turning quickly and marching back to his perch,
"Good! Just as I taught you -oink!"
She sighed and began to move through the motions that Pigsy showed her the night before. She knew this downtime was temporary, and that she ought to take advantage to sharpen her skills, but she couldn't help the allure of the future, and the fear of what could come at any moment.
...
Atop the Clouds Above the City
A shadowed wraith of a man sat cross-legged with a cloud as his throne. While Archer's visage was undeniably striking, with his chin in one talon there was a thin veil of annoyance about him. He was a hunter by trade, perhaps the greatest hunter of beasts in all of history, and especially within the realm of his home country. He had multiple experiences of tracking prey over the course of days, weeks, even over a month in rare instances, but they all shared one thing in common: the hunt ended when your prey was in sight. Whether it took one arrow or ten, the most difficult exercise was over, and thus, so was the hunt. A race doesn't end when the finishing line is crossed, it ends when the winner's lead becomes insurmountable. To draw out the final moments of the hunt was unbearably cruel, both to the predator and his prey.
In simple terms, he was bored.
His fingers ached terribly. He was itching to pull back the string of his bow, and every moment he'd spent merely watching wore away at him. He had fallen into the assumption that he and his Master were of a similar mold, and they were, but there was at least one important difference between them: patience.
He closed his eyes, the invisible conversation between Servant and Master reaching an unsatisfying close, his complaints falling on deaf ears.
"Understood, Master."
The softness of the cloud, the unique cushion that only he was blessed with, along with the warmness of the sun and the boredom that stagnated his mind were an unbearable temptation. Although Servants didn't need sleep, that didn't mean that they couldn't get mentally or physically exhausted and, under such circumstances, it was about as easy for them as anyone else to accidentally fall into slumber. He could feel his mind retreating to the far reaches of his consciousness, and, as the cool embrace of sleep, of dreams like memories that reminded him of all he'd lost, and which served as his only comfort across his millennia of solitude began to wrap around his mind, caressing into his skull with the high afternoon sun...
He wrenched himself up, and continued his dutiful watch.
Servants were beholden to their orders, after all.
...
The Alghul Villa
"So... you're sure that I shouldn't capitalize on the Saber connection?"
Xander was trying to make conversation with Caster, though it wasn't as if there was much of anything else for him to do. Caster seemed perfectly aware of how trite and meaningless the gesture was, since he was hardly paying attention himself. No, he was preoccupied with his scale model. He examined it closely , moving some scattered pieces on the board, wiggling his fingers to cast light spells, causing some areas to light up, though he could only guess at the purpose.
Still, he payed enough attention to respond, "Yes, I'm certain. For one, you have a busy night, and I'd hate to ruin your lovers' triste with business. Besides, that would seem suspicious, no? Please, dedicate all your attention to your wife; she needs it more than Assassin does."
He turned a wry grin towards the mercenary, "And if forced to choose between the two, we both know how you'd land in any case, so enjoy your off-time."
Caster directed his attention back to his model, "One lie at a time, friend. More than that and they start to meddle with one another."
Xander couldn't keep his face from contorting at the word 'lie'. Being expected to lie to his wife was enough for his conscience, but this was seeming more and more like all he'd be doing for the rest of the war was lie. He was a mercenary, not an actor.
As if sensing his thoughts, Caster piped up again, though he still wouldn't quite turn his full attention, "You know how to be a good liar, Xander?"
He winced again, "I'd have to say 'no'."
"It isn't quite as hard as some people think. If you want to lie, all you have to do is believe it."
He cringed, "With respect, that doesn't sound as simple as you make it seem."
"Oh, but it is. When you want to smile for a picture, you think of something that makes you laugh, and now you smile. If you want to fake melancholy, think of a painful memory, and now you cry. If you want to lie believably, all you have to do is construct a fact that makes it so. If you wanted to lie about your wife cheating on you, for example, just imagine her giving candy eyes to another man, and then you start to believe it. Go ahead and try- if you're brave enough."
"That..."
His voice trailed off. It seemed so ridiculous, but it was true. It wasn't so much that the idea was unbelievable, it was more that the mind was too stubborn to admit it's own fallibility.
"-And besides," Caster looked at him with eyes that gleamed with evil intent, "We'll give you plenty of reasons to despise me before you leave."
His focus returned to the model, but he kept up the conversation regardless, "Don't worry too much, Xander. Enjoy what time you have with your wife, for tomorrow, the war will be returning in full."
A stray thought reminded Xander of the previous night, '... the war will end within five days...'
"Can I ask why that is? Or is that a secret of Team Caster?"
He instinctively turned to look for Aisha, despite knowing that she was still locked away in her workshop upstairs.
He flicked his hand flippantly, "Oh, it's no secret, not to anyone who knows it, anyway. The war awaits the return of Rider, which I suspect must come either today or tomorrow."
"The war is on pause... for Rider?"
Caster raised an eyebrow, before something clicked in the back of his mind, "Ah, I guess you wouldn't know. Rider is the linchpin that holds this war together. He is a rival to both Archer and Berserker, and an ally to Lancer and-" he gestured to himself, "Caster. Without him, there is nothing to connect the errant strings, and so both puppets and their puppeteers must wait."
A relevant question rose to his mind, "What about Saber and Assassin? You didn't mention them, even though they're the reason this conversation started."
Caster looked him in the eye as he hunched over the model and held up a finger, "Firstly, Saber and Assassin each had only one enemy, each other. If they've found peace as you suggest, then they have nothing to do except wait on your word," He raised a second finger, "Second, they have a connection to both Lancer and ourselves. It's rather lax for the moment, but it'll soon come taught with all the rest and form a delicious little knot."
"They have a connection to Lancer? How did-"
But before he could finish his thought, a door upstairs flung open, and out of it strut Aisha Alghul beaming with the mad confidence of a child burning ants under a magnifying glass, as if there were none who could approach her magnitude,
"Caster! I've done it!"
As those words exited her mouth, it became clear that whatever pleasure Caster found in his discussion with the mercenary was paltry, as his eyes became alight with the same madness of joy,
"Oh?"
With her cue given, she raised her hand, which had been covered by the balcony rail, like a champion, and in it was a strange sword, stranger than perhaps any he had seen before. The hilt was shaped like a grasping hand, meaning the wielder would effectively have to hold hands with his sword in order to use it, but this was only the beginning. The hand and it's circular guard were made of a strange material, almost looking like slate-colored brass, but the blade itself was undoubtedly made of bone. It was single-edged, with the back of the blade made from a spine, and the cutting edge had likely been cobbled together from bone fragments. But none of this could have been too disturbing to him, being that he'd worked with necromancers including and beyond Miss Alghul, not to mention a variety of unsavories that he'd either been hired by or hired to 'get rid of'. What made the blade particularly off-putting were the veins that etched across it and which seemed to effectively tie the sword together. These veins pulsed with red and purple light, as did the edge of the blade, and it gave the aura of pure malicious intent, evil concentrated into a matrix of thin rope.
Aisha continued her runway-walk down the steps, and handed it over to the excited Caster, who was utterly entranced by it. As he slipped his hand into the hilt, that aura rose to a pressure that could be felt, and which sent shivers down his spine.
Aisha, ever anxious for an opportunity to boast, tilted her shoulder and began, "That, Xander, is one of the eldest secrets of the Alghul mage family. A sword designed for cutting through spirits- Ghost Liners."
"Ghost Liners- you mean-"
Caster held out his arm and gently brought down the blade. As the two touched, there was no resistance, and the blade easily cut into his flesh, without even the resistance of butter.
Master and Servant locked eyes, each with their own excitement. It began as a chuckle, then a laugh, and before long the two were cackling uproariously. Xander could only step back, unaware of the joke. A part of him began to retreat into his heart, wondering if, perhaps, he had made a severe miscalculation in taking this job.
...
But he was here, wasn't he? He couldn't afford to leave the job unfinished. Besides, what was best for his employer was his best for him as well, right?
...
Right.
....