Post by Nikolai von Drachenheim on Dec 24, 2013 20:08:45 GMT -5
Day 0: 23:55
It was a cool night.
From the balcony of the Drachenheim estate, Nikolai could see the city of Lucca in the distance. The multitude of lights coming from the city made it look like a jewel, to be conquered and claimed by the hand of the strong. Still, it was a jewel that Nikolai did not want to add to his treasury. For the Italian, the cool night wind might be seen as cold. But for Nikolai, accustomed to the biting wind of the Carpatian mountains, it carried only a pleasant coolness.
From the balcony, Nikolai von Drachenheim might well be seen as a figure from another era, a feudal lord surveying his lands. In truth, he was as much an anachronism as the servants who found themselves in another time and age. A lord of eastern Europe who held unto ideals that had gone out of style after the middle ages. But still, there was a war to be fought, and the house of Drachenheim had not been those to shy away from what they saw as their duty.
Nikolai had, briefly, considered seeking lodging in the city, but quickly dismissed the idea. The thought of cluttering together with the commoners, restricted in space and bereft of all the comforts that was necessary, it was too much. He was a lord of Drachenheim, not a common vagabond hiring room in a hotel or something similar.
As such, countless resources had been spent in preparation for the war to establish this estate. Located in the outskirts, far from prying eyes, it carried all the amenities required to wage honourable war. All the resources and equipment that Nikolai needed.
The estate was hedged in by a massive steel fence, beautiful gardens decorating its courtyard. The building itself extended three stories up, two stories down. More importantly was the boundary field. The ancestral home of the Drachenheim, Hunyadi Castle, carried a complex boundary field that not only detected intruders, but robbed them of their sense of time, direction and space. Intruders would be cursed to wander aimlessly, easily taken care of. But that boundary field was the culmination of centuries' worth of experimentation and the contribution of generations. Such a thing could not simply be reproduced over the course of a few months.
Rather, Nikolai's boundary field around the estate had two effects: first, it alerted its master of the whereabouts of any intruders. Second, it subtly encouraged anyone except for its master and his allies to forget that the estate was there at all. In the end, intruders would wander around the boundary field, completely oblivious to the existence an estate within the small forest.
A magus committed to the task might penetrate it eventually, but as for now, it kept the estate shrouded, hidden from view. While Nikolai disdained trickery in combat, one of the fundamentals of war was to learn the position of the enemy while hiding your own. The locale was perfect for a strategem that favoured swift, decisive moves.
In a few hours, the sun would rise. A time for beginnings, and the time to begin was now.
Rousing himself from his deliberations on the balcony, Nikolai walked into the estate. Most of the preparations had already been made, he was not one to leave much to chance. Aptly dressed, he wore the black and silver longcoat that he favoured while doing...business. His faithful blade, Drachau, ever rested in its scabbard at Nikolai's belt.
He had deemed the chapel an appropriate place for the summoning. It was large enough to accommodate, and had a shape fitting for the ritual. The items he had requested, a mahogany box and a sealed jar had already been placed inside by the servants. Good.
Common wisdom was that summoning circles were painted in blood. It was logical, after all. To many, blood represented the giving and taking of life, life and death, the sacrifice and the salvation. But it was only a representation.
As such, Nikolai opened the jar, still hot to the touch, and poured out the contents before the altar. Molten silver poured forth, settling in a pool. Metal, to Nikolai, was more reliable than blood. Blood smeared, people changed, life waned. But metal, metal was unyielding, reliable and as strong as its creator. The flesh was weak, but metal endured. As such, what better material for a circle was there?
"Spirit of Steel, heed my will
Thine purpose, mine to dictate
Thy form, guided by my will"
Shaping metal was one of the foundations of the Drachenheim magecraft. It did not matter if it was steel or gold, silver or bronze, even the most advanced and unbreakable alloys became like clay to the mind of a Drachenheim. It was the same here.
The silver flowed and shifted, patterns forming and parts breaking away to form an unbreakable circle. Nikolai had memorized the circle well, and it was not long until the silver, guided by his will, had formed that pattern. Nikolai made a pass around the circle, making small adjustments, removing slight irregularities, smoothing over the metal. By all accounts, the summoning of a servant was a relatively simple affair, but this could well be the most important summoning in all of his life. It would not do to get sloppy.
He made a second pass, make additional adjustments to the minuscule faults he could detect. On the third pass, he could no longer see any flaws. It would do.
Three things were required to summon a Servant: the summoning circle, the command spells and a catalyst. The spells had materialized on Nikolai's arm the very night when he had committed himself to entering the Holy Grail war. Not to win for himself, but to make certain that no one else used the grail to destabilize and cause suffering. After all, none could be trusted with a power of this magnitude. None save a Drachenheim, of course.
The catalyst had been tricky, but not impossible to a man with resources. In the city of Cologne, he had found the item inside the box. It was said, that when the mighty horse belonging to the servant he was seeking had fled its captors, it had done so with a force that had torn its reins. The remnants of these reins, mere scraps of leather, had been passed down as a memento. The man holding them had been reluctant to part with them. But in the end, he had been a poor man, low on funds, and Nikolai had immense resources from the wealth of his family. It had been a simple transaction.
Carefully, he placed the ancient pieces of leather on the altar. All was set, it was time to get things moving. Nikolai took a deep breath and faced the circle. He had memorized the incantation by heart.
"Ye first, O silver, O iron,
O stone of the foundation, O archduke of Contract"
Was it just Nikolai, or did he feel a light breeze? But from where? He was indoors.
"Hear me in the name of our great teacher, the Archmagus Schweinorg,
Let the descending winds be as a wall,
Let the gates in all directions be shut, rising above the crown, and let the three-forked roads to the Kingdom revolve"
Nikolai felt a slight drain of his magical energy. Enough to make a lesser magus falter, certainly. But Nikolai von Drachenheim was no lesser magus, and such a drain would not bother him. But there was certainly a wind.
"Shut. Shut. Shut. Shut. Shut.
Five perfections for each repetition.
And now, let the filled sigils be annihilated in my stead!"
The wind turned into a gale, as if fueled by Nikolai's magical energy. The wind roared from the summoning circle, making the benches of the chapel shake ominously. Still, Nikolai continued.
"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."
The drain became more noticeable, Nikolai winced a bit, but mostly from the surprise. He had substantial reserves of magical energy, after all, more than enough for the summoning. The wind, however, became more furious for each syllable, as if the very elements themselves sought to deny Nikolai his destiny.
"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."
With a roar, the benches were flung from their places and hurled against the opposite wall. Nikolai stood alone against the furious wind, but his foothold was stable, somehow. His eyes determined, he spoke the final words:
"Thou seven heavens, clad in a trinity of words,
come past thy restraining rings, and be thou the hands that protect the balance!"
It was a cool night.
From the balcony of the Drachenheim estate, Nikolai could see the city of Lucca in the distance. The multitude of lights coming from the city made it look like a jewel, to be conquered and claimed by the hand of the strong. Still, it was a jewel that Nikolai did not want to add to his treasury. For the Italian, the cool night wind might be seen as cold. But for Nikolai, accustomed to the biting wind of the Carpatian mountains, it carried only a pleasant coolness.
From the balcony, Nikolai von Drachenheim might well be seen as a figure from another era, a feudal lord surveying his lands. In truth, he was as much an anachronism as the servants who found themselves in another time and age. A lord of eastern Europe who held unto ideals that had gone out of style after the middle ages. But still, there was a war to be fought, and the house of Drachenheim had not been those to shy away from what they saw as their duty.
Nikolai had, briefly, considered seeking lodging in the city, but quickly dismissed the idea. The thought of cluttering together with the commoners, restricted in space and bereft of all the comforts that was necessary, it was too much. He was a lord of Drachenheim, not a common vagabond hiring room in a hotel or something similar.
As such, countless resources had been spent in preparation for the war to establish this estate. Located in the outskirts, far from prying eyes, it carried all the amenities required to wage honourable war. All the resources and equipment that Nikolai needed.
The estate was hedged in by a massive steel fence, beautiful gardens decorating its courtyard. The building itself extended three stories up, two stories down. More importantly was the boundary field. The ancestral home of the Drachenheim, Hunyadi Castle, carried a complex boundary field that not only detected intruders, but robbed them of their sense of time, direction and space. Intruders would be cursed to wander aimlessly, easily taken care of. But that boundary field was the culmination of centuries' worth of experimentation and the contribution of generations. Such a thing could not simply be reproduced over the course of a few months.
Rather, Nikolai's boundary field around the estate had two effects: first, it alerted its master of the whereabouts of any intruders. Second, it subtly encouraged anyone except for its master and his allies to forget that the estate was there at all. In the end, intruders would wander around the boundary field, completely oblivious to the existence an estate within the small forest.
A magus committed to the task might penetrate it eventually, but as for now, it kept the estate shrouded, hidden from view. While Nikolai disdained trickery in combat, one of the fundamentals of war was to learn the position of the enemy while hiding your own. The locale was perfect for a strategem that favoured swift, decisive moves.
In a few hours, the sun would rise. A time for beginnings, and the time to begin was now.
Rousing himself from his deliberations on the balcony, Nikolai walked into the estate. Most of the preparations had already been made, he was not one to leave much to chance. Aptly dressed, he wore the black and silver longcoat that he favoured while doing...business. His faithful blade, Drachau, ever rested in its scabbard at Nikolai's belt.
He had deemed the chapel an appropriate place for the summoning. It was large enough to accommodate, and had a shape fitting for the ritual. The items he had requested, a mahogany box and a sealed jar had already been placed inside by the servants. Good.
Common wisdom was that summoning circles were painted in blood. It was logical, after all. To many, blood represented the giving and taking of life, life and death, the sacrifice and the salvation. But it was only a representation.
As such, Nikolai opened the jar, still hot to the touch, and poured out the contents before the altar. Molten silver poured forth, settling in a pool. Metal, to Nikolai, was more reliable than blood. Blood smeared, people changed, life waned. But metal, metal was unyielding, reliable and as strong as its creator. The flesh was weak, but metal endured. As such, what better material for a circle was there?
"Spirit of Steel, heed my will
Thine purpose, mine to dictate
Thy form, guided by my will"
Shaping metal was one of the foundations of the Drachenheim magecraft. It did not matter if it was steel or gold, silver or bronze, even the most advanced and unbreakable alloys became like clay to the mind of a Drachenheim. It was the same here.
The silver flowed and shifted, patterns forming and parts breaking away to form an unbreakable circle. Nikolai had memorized the circle well, and it was not long until the silver, guided by his will, had formed that pattern. Nikolai made a pass around the circle, making small adjustments, removing slight irregularities, smoothing over the metal. By all accounts, the summoning of a servant was a relatively simple affair, but this could well be the most important summoning in all of his life. It would not do to get sloppy.
He made a second pass, make additional adjustments to the minuscule faults he could detect. On the third pass, he could no longer see any flaws. It would do.
Three things were required to summon a Servant: the summoning circle, the command spells and a catalyst. The spells had materialized on Nikolai's arm the very night when he had committed himself to entering the Holy Grail war. Not to win for himself, but to make certain that no one else used the grail to destabilize and cause suffering. After all, none could be trusted with a power of this magnitude. None save a Drachenheim, of course.
The catalyst had been tricky, but not impossible to a man with resources. In the city of Cologne, he had found the item inside the box. It was said, that when the mighty horse belonging to the servant he was seeking had fled its captors, it had done so with a force that had torn its reins. The remnants of these reins, mere scraps of leather, had been passed down as a memento. The man holding them had been reluctant to part with them. But in the end, he had been a poor man, low on funds, and Nikolai had immense resources from the wealth of his family. It had been a simple transaction.
Carefully, he placed the ancient pieces of leather on the altar. All was set, it was time to get things moving. Nikolai took a deep breath and faced the circle. He had memorized the incantation by heart.
"Ye first, O silver, O iron,
O stone of the foundation, O archduke of Contract"
Was it just Nikolai, or did he feel a light breeze? But from where? He was indoors.
"Hear me in the name of our great teacher, the Archmagus Schweinorg,
Let the descending winds be as a wall,
Let the gates in all directions be shut, rising above the crown, and let the three-forked roads to the Kingdom revolve"
Nikolai felt a slight drain of his magical energy. Enough to make a lesser magus falter, certainly. But Nikolai von Drachenheim was no lesser magus, and such a drain would not bother him. But there was certainly a wind.
"Shut. Shut. Shut. Shut. Shut.
Five perfections for each repetition.
And now, let the filled sigils be annihilated in my stead!"
The wind turned into a gale, as if fueled by Nikolai's magical energy. The wind roared from the summoning circle, making the benches of the chapel shake ominously. Still, Nikolai continued.
"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."
The drain became more noticeable, Nikolai winced a bit, but mostly from the surprise. He had substantial reserves of magical energy, after all, more than enough for the summoning. The wind, however, became more furious for each syllable, as if the very elements themselves sought to deny Nikolai his destiny.
"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."
With a roar, the benches were flung from their places and hurled against the opposite wall. Nikolai stood alone against the furious wind, but his foothold was stable, somehow. His eyes determined, he spoke the final words:
"Thou seven heavens, clad in a trinity of words,
come past thy restraining rings, and be thou the hands that protect the balance!"
