Size is Everything

[Katyusha Kohklova]

“Just… a little… more...” Katyusha coaxed the last few drops of alcohol from her still into a four liter jug. With a satisfying plink the jug was filled at last, and the magus replaced it with an empty bottle. She sat back and took a short swig of the fresh liquor. She rolled it around in her mouth, bathing her palate in the intense flavor and letting it burn all the way down her throat. Satisfied, she grinned triumphantly and placed it in a row of similar containers. “This’ll be a good batch,” she nodded happily.

It had been easy to find property in Lucca, but finding a place to stay that was conducive to her art had proved to be quite the chore. She managed to find a ground floor condo that didn’t seem to have any snoopy neighbors, and snuck her equipment in overnight. Of course, the still was only the second strangest thing Katyusha had snuck into Lucca. His landlord would likely be just as concerned with the giant demonic skull-helmet sitting in her living room if he found out about it.

The fire beneath the still crackled away as Katyusha checked the clock. With this batch almost done, it was about time she got to her real business; the reason she had come to this city in the first place. Katyusha unscrewed the cap on a half-full bottle of vodka and took a long pull. She shuddered at the warmth that spread throughout her entire body, and her cheeks flushed as she slipped slightly more into intoxication. The girl stumbled around for a few minutes, unable to remember where she put the book with the summoning ritual. When she found it sitting right where she had left it -- on the bookshelf -- she counted herself lucky that none of her friends were around to laugh at her. She pulled the ancient book off of her bookshelf, and began to review the ritual for summoning a servant.

The circle was troublesome to say the least. The girl had bought some chickens at the market earlier in the week, but she was glad she had thought ahead enough to buy more than she needed. The circle itself was not difficult to draw, but in a half-drunk haze the more intricate parts were difficult to articulate. After three attempts, Katyusha finally got it close enough that she was satisfied. It took her another fifteen minutes to drag the helmet into the center of the circle. Breathing heavily with both excitement and physical exhaustion, Katyusha began to recite the incantation to summon her servant.

“Shut. Shut. Shut. Shut. Shut.
Five perfections for each repetition.
And now, let the filled sigils be annihilated in my stead!
Set.
Let thy body rest under my dominion, let my fate rest in thy blade.
If thou submitteth to the call of the Holy Grail, and if thou wilt obey this mind, this reason, then thou shalt respond.
I make my oath here.
I am that person who is become the virtue of all Heaven.
I am that person who is covered with the evil of all Hades.
Thou seven heavens, clad in a trinity of words,
come past thy restraining rings, and be thou the hands that protect the balance-!”

[Rostam]

[Mosane – Cartographer – E.S. Posthumus]

The skull’s eyes glowed crimson as the ritual activated, and the summoning circle itself lit with an unearthly, blue flame. It was no longer simply a crudely scrawled geometrical figure, drawn by a half-drunk magus in copious amounts of chicken blood. No, her words have activated something ancient – something powerful, evoking the flame and stirring that which was locked inside the helmet the name of which she did not research, fascinated merely by its size alone. The flame was but a symptom, not the cause, though it was likely she knew at least this. He wondered if she knew that the gigantic skull she had placed within the center was indeed a battle helmet, no mere decoration, but it was but a momentary thought, slipping through a consciousness not yet fully formed.

The circle hummed with power, a near-inaudible sound reaching a higher pitch, as the floor under the circle… merely ceased to be.

An endless maw opened, to a place inside which time and space did not exist, and even memory had lied to you. Of course… to the eye of a magus, that had merely been an endless blackness, no more, no less. And from that abyss, was now issuing a column of blue light, soft and pleasant to look at. As it reached the ceiling, streaks of crimson energy arced their way throughout it, like small lightnings, and a tint of black had begun to shadow the blue, but no matter what attempted to pollute it, the central column had remained pure of any degeneration. The summoning had stabilized, and something stirred inside it. Shapeless and without form, he existed. Thoughtless and without mind, he reasoned. Aimless and without goal… He yearned.

All of this would change, as the summoning had went a little more out of control than the summoner likely intended. Energy hit the ceiling, lights winking out. Dust rose from the floor.

The contours of something stirred in the darkness, one loud thud following another, powerful enough to make the floor tremble. There was a clicking noise, followed by a sound of something being scraped by steel. As the magus stood there, observing the unfolding events, two red orbs lit within the darkness of the room, fixing themselves upon her, the pupils clearly inhuman due to being a series of black circles, one within the other. Following this, there had been a two or three loud sounds that shook the walls ever so slightly, and sounded akin to a blacksmith’s skins used to direct air onto the piece he’d been working on.

There’d been another ‘zap’, and light had returned to the room, illuminating the majesty of the figure that had stood – or rather, kneeled there. There, on one knee, supporting itself with its left arm, stood a figure approximately eight and a half feet tall, armored in a mail shirt, furs, metal shoulderpads, and gauntlets. His legs have been similarly outfitted, with studded leather being the choice for boots. The face… was concealed behind the massive demon-skull that had been no longer present upon the floor. The eyes that looked through them had the barest hint of mirth, but were ultimately serious – if such emotions could be calculated by someone seeing him for the first time, of course…

“Greetings, magus. Servant Archer has come through the Veil once more. I ask of you, art thou my Master, whom has called me fourth from the bleak abyss?”

[Katyusha Kohklova]

Katyusha could barely contain her excitement at the behemoth standing before her.  Of course she would summon such a large servant; she deserved nothing less.  He was so huge he barely fit in the apartment.  He could probably crush some of the weaker servants under his foot without any trouble at all.  She yearned to climb up his chiseled body and perch herself on his shoulder, staring down at the tiny people below.  It was a little too early for that though.  If he was half as ferocious as he looked, he probably wouldn't take kindly to her mounting him like a pack mule.  She would have to wait until she had at least broken the ice a bit.


The girl's face split into a grin from ear to ear and she took a long drink from her bottle before addressing him, "It was me that called you, yes."  Her chest puffed out proudly as she began to introduce herself, "I am Katyusha Ivanova Khoklova, rightful heiress to the Khoklova sorcery and master distiller.  Allow me to present you with the gift of my excellence as a symbol of our binding."  The magus took another drink of her vodka, then shuffled over to the jugs she had been filling before.  She uncapped one and held it up with both hands, straining to reach as high as possible.  Unfortunately, the jug still only came up to about waist height...  Her liquor-reddened face burned even hotter with effort as she worked to keep it in the air.

[Rostam]

He listened carefully to her introduction, taking note of her emotional and physical state and her words. The question still remained if his master has been as young as she seemed, or older than she looked – judging by her demeanor and the drinks… It was certainly the latter. That she had been an heir even if she was younger was naturally nothing surprising. Sorcery… Now that was interesting. His own father had went down in the annals of history as a Sorcerer, but the Grail suggested it was likely that Zal had been a magus instead. He supposed it would not have been impossible for it to have been the other way around as well, with Zahhak, their ancestor, being what he was.

It was certainly an interesting occurrence, to be offered a drink in this manner, or perhaps it was better to say that it was greatly irregular. A giant arm stretched out to catch the offered container between the index finger and thumb, holding it carefully, before lifting it to the eye level. The Servant breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of alcohol. So this was how his Master wished to complete the contract? It was certainly acceptable enough, and such a thing was quite normal for himself – it was akin to swearing an oath. But first… he could not drink while wearing his helmet. Dev-i-Sephid faded from sight, the demon skull vanishing to reveal a tanned face of a man whose pride was not broken not once during his entire life.

And what a face it was… Archer was bald, with a large black moustache and small beard, which joined together. His skin was scarred, but standing out the most on it were his eyes. No human had eyes like that: There were no whites, no irises, no sclera… Only a deep crimson and black spiral overlaying it. The monster opened its mouth, revealing row upon row of perfectly shaped, white teeth, and emptied out the container over his mouth all in one go as if it was a shot glass. The liquid tasted like fire did, but what was fire to one who wrestled a dragon? Regardless, he supposed taste was not the point of this liquid, rather inebriation. If so, it was wasted on him – such a small amount was not enough to affect his large body in any way.

“…Interesting.” Was the giant’s laconic verdict. He put down the container carefully on the floor with a light ‘clunk’, and turned his gaze to his Master once more.

“The contract is completed, then. Well then, Master, might I inquire what shall be expected of me and what your goal is in this battle?”

[Katyusha Kohklova]

Katyusha rubbed her chin and thought deeply for a moment.  Yes... This would be a major problem.  She didn't want to admit it, but there was nothing she could do.  Her servant was amazing, but he had one huge flaw that she couldn't overlook.   He was much too tall to see his face when she was just standing on the ground.

In as dignified a manner as possible, the magus climbed to the top of a nearby table, crossing her arms and giving a triumphant grin.  From here, she was almost as tall as he was!  As usual, her unparalleled wit and ability to adapt to any situation had won the day.  She spoke to the giant before her with the authority of a mighty general.  "Of course, we will win through our superior force.  We will crush all who stand before us without discrimination, and show them the true might of the Khoklova family."  The girl paused for a moment before her confident grin was replaced with a look of hapless resignation.  She sighed and plopped into a sitting position, taking a long drink from her bottle.  "At least that's what I'd like to do, but this kinda war isn't really that simple.  There are too many enemies for us to just take 'em all on by ourselves.  We're better off getting some allies so we aren't sitting ducks.  I doubt we can convince any of the noble families to partner up though."  After another long pull of liquor Katyusha giggled to herself, "They'll probably underestimate me pretty badly though.  Those pompous pricks are always lookin' down their noses at me.  We can use that against them.  That's the real goal in the end.  I want everyone to recognize that my family isn't just a bunch of worthless excuses for magi."

[Rostam]

It seemed the girl did not understand the real question he was attempting to ask: whether she would or would not make him do anything dishonorable, anything questionable to his honor as a Pehliva. But as she did not even understand it... Perhaps she was not quite capable of such villainy in the first place. Her manner of carrying herself, her speech, and words truly did not register as that of a villain's, and he had seen quite a lot of them in his long lifetime, and trusted himself to be able to tell at least that much by looking at a person. He watched her progress with interest, as his new Master clambered up the desk, doing a little pose when she had done so. Once more, he questioned just how old his Master really was.

Her next words assured him he was not wrong in his judgement: a person proposing to win by 'superior force' was not going to order him to skulk around sniping Masters. He shook his head at the mere idea of someone such as him 'skulking' around in a remotely stealthy way, but the Grail did inform him he could have been summoned as Assassin for his kill of the Red Div, as well as a few other feats. Ridiculous, really. Meanwhile, his Master seemed a bit distraught: she deflated like a balloon and was a bit pitiful to look at, plopping down in a sitting position and dangling her feet off the edge of the desk like a small child would.

It seemed like she was not certain of her own validity as a magus, or rather, the acceptance of her own family as one the magi would approve of, which had brought to mind his own parentage, and all the grief it had brought him. "While I wholeheartedly approve your idea to look for allies, why do you require their approval, Master? Do you doubt your own family? Or is this something about magi politics that I have no experience in?" Frankly, the goal to reach glory was not puzzling. Glory is what made one's life as long as it was. As soon as your honor ended, as soon as the glory ended, so did too, your life. He simply was not sure why the approval of some external parties was required for his little Master's peace of mind.

He recalled once more how he had been scorned for having the blood of Zahhak and Jamshid, both, flow through his veins, and his own reactions to these thinly veiled insults. They thought him a demon, who had taken the black blood of that human-turned-monster, Zahhak, who struck a bargain with Angra Mainyu himself. It did not help that his father had been a powerful magician marked by his albino nature. Life was never easy, but he had endured it until the very end. Why, then, did his Master seek to receive the approval of those who seemed to be unworthy to lick her boots, if they had judged her family by ... why did they underestimate them so?

"If I may be so bold, Master... Why is it that the other Magi choose to treat your family in such a way?"

[Katyusha Kohklova]

Katyusha skowled and crossed her arms.  Her family was a topic she preferred to avoid, but Archer deserved to know who he was dealing with.  "My family used to be one of the most powerful in the magi world.  We had wealth amd oower befitting of a noble house.  But my ancestors squandered the founder, s gifts until there was nothing left."  The girl took a large gulp of vodka and wiped the excess fro, her chin.  "We are one of the oldest families around but our magic isn't much better than the younger families.  We are masters at distilling liquor but mages don, t really view that as a valuable skill.  They laugh at us and call us drunks and disrespect us at every turn."  Despite her attempts to stay tough, the alcohol had begun to let Katyusha, s emotions flow just as freely as the spirits from her bottle.  Her voice had beco, e shaky and tears were welling uo in thr corners of her eyes.  "I can't stand it," she blurted.  "I, m strong damn it!  And smart too.  I, m not a faikure!  So what if I like to drink a lot?  That's not anything that strange."  She hugged her bottle like a child might embrace a stuffed animal for co, fort and fidgeted silently for a few minutes.  When she had recollected herself she stood and wiped her eyes, flashing an unconvincing grin at Archer.   "Sorry.  I showed you an embarassing side of myself.   I must be tired."

[Rostam]

[Crimson Moon]

This was truly an interesting turn of events. As was his first impression, his Master closely resembled himself... Not in stature, of course, but in the treatment she had received from others surrounding her. He had proved himself, in a way, to those who doubted him - not that this was his aim - only serving Ormzd. The fact remained, however, that now that the person who summoned him was starting on the same path as he was, even if for differing reasons... It was his duty to assist her as best he could, even if he considered the opinions of those who would scorn your family to be far beneath notice. Perhaps once she had obtained this illusory acknowledgement, she would grow - in a manner of speaking - above that desire, and obtain wisdom to seek a higher goal. Normally, he would have attempted to argue with anyone who possessed a selfish desire but this small Magus desired acknowledgement for her family, not even for herself. The sincerity of her words was doubtless, and even if Rostam, after all this time, was unable to distinguish a truth from a lie, the tears she cried were certainly no lie. Yes... Her, he would serve.

"Indeed." Rostam gave a slight cough to break the awkward atmosphere, the sound like a rumble of thunder. "A Summoning is quite a draining ritual, Master, and now you are forced to feed me your prana as well. It will take time getting used to this arrangement." Archer paused, taking another good look at his small Master, sitting there, forcing herself to smile so as to not lose her face in front of him. It was... touching, and played upon the strings that the old warrior had long since forsaken. Regardless of how old this Magus was, to him, she was just a small child; sad and confused. In the end... No matter how old you were, if some corner of your soul had always kept some childishness, some of this innocent truthfulness... You were still a child. This brought memories long-buried memories of his son, whom he could not raise, and the other children whom he did raise and train. That is what it felt like to look upon this childlike figure, to realize just how long the road would be, and just how large an impact a small measure of guidance and simple kindness played in their lives.

"Rest assured, Master... I will use all my power to make your wish come true." Rostam's voice, usually rough, took on a softer tone than before, if only just. "But I ask you: Before you show others that your family is respectable, you must have confidence in yourself, and believe that you yourself are respectable. After all, you are now a representative of your family. You must be as you wish for them to be seen. The one who decides the limits of respect others grant you is only you. Dry your tears, and realize your own worth, before trying to convince others of it. To start, you have summoned Rostam, the Champion of Champions... It is no small feat. I say this at the risk of sounding prideful, but you must understand that to earn anyone's respect, you must give yourself your own, first."

[Katyusha Kohklova]

Katyusha nodded her agreement to her servant's reassurance and rubbed her eyes on her sleeve. How did he know exactly the words she needed to hear? She was unfamiliar with his legend, but could tell he must have suffered greatly at the hands of others in his lifetime. If she had been in a better mood she might have laughed at the idea of the first person she could finally see eye to eye with being three times her size. The girl blew her nose and took three massive gulps of her vodka, gasping and breaking into a massive grin when the bottle moved away from her lips. The drink was good and the night was still young, but the room was starting to spin so Katyusha took that as her cue to get some rest. The exhaustion from the summoning had left her more affected by her liquor than usual, so she was well past her limit.

"Hehehe..." a muttered giggle escaped the mage's lips as hold of inebriation began to smother her mind. "We're gonna have sho mush fun, you an me. Tomorrow we're gonna KICK SOME ASS! WOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Katyusha began to run in tight circles atop the table, her arms extended like wings. She started laughing hysterically, breathing fire and shouting "I'M A DRAGON!" over and over. However, she quickly lost her balance, sending her rolling off the table face first. Whether from the blow to her head or the vodka finally getting the best of her, Katyusha stayed down where she fell.