Truthseekers

[Mia Hedera]

[] Day 2, ~08:30 []

Two primary entrances in this building. Two easy ones at least, as well as two more entry points as windows. Those were now boarded, as they were not clearly visible from a distance. The other two would be visible street side, and she could take no chances with those.

A small fragment of glass was lodged into the wall beside each entrance, with a clear view of the entire thing. Each time she departed from the house, she would first collect the shards from the walls, just in case. She could only use four at once, after all

Underneath each entrance was a small puddle of water, a simple snap of her fingers and the still pool would shoot like a jet, tearing through whoever was stupid enough to break into a magus’ house.

The house was also surrounded by a boundary field, just a basic detection and hiding the prana from her workshop from the outside. Yet even those were not infallible, and thus the reason she placed the shards around the house, before she had returned to the basement workshop to begin the purpose for her arrival in Lucca, a city she still remembered from that day her father died, so long ago. She would have surrounded the entire thing in a barrier of small water droplets as well, if she was even slightly suspicious that anyone had noticed her for a magus during her short time here.

She had only made two extended trip outside the house in the two weeks she had been in Lucca, carefully setting up the work shop, and etching the summoning circle delicately in stone. One was to pick up a package, finally, sent through three redirected locations. It was actually supposed to arrive ahead of her, but somehow had been lost in shipping for the entire time.

Serious worry had crossed her mind that someone may have tampered with it, but she found it untouched and, when opened, contained what she had been waiting for. A frozen fragment of wood, from the final ship of Odysseus’ journey.

That small plank now rested on a soft cloth delicately in the center of the engraved circle, as she carefully checked her compact mirror one last time. Any person seeing what she was doing would simply remark that she was fixing her hair perhaps, or adjusting makeup.

The truth was much deeper.

Images bubbled across halves of the mirror as she focused on each individual shard of glass she had placed. Reflections across a pool of silver water, they were indistinct to those not looking at it from her specific angle. Nothing was disturbed, and the mirror was returned to the small pocket on the inside of her clothes, specifically designed to receive that same mirror.

And that brought her gaze down to the reason of her second extended trip outside the house. A small sheep was tethered there, with food and water nearby. It was particularly sickly, and she had chosen the black-wooled lamb for that reason. There was no specific need to kill a healthy one, when the farmer was ready to kill this one anyways.

Lamb blood had been used to summon spirits from the underworld in the ancient Greek legends, and this would give her one more hold on Odysseus, calling his spirit above others.

Finding the truth with the help of such a heroic spirit will not be a problem. Finally...

And so, she slit the suffering creature’s throat, and slowly filled the day long etching project she had set in the stone days before, with the lamb's leaking blood. Mistakes could be made when brushing with blood, so she decided to pre-etch the circle out before she summoned Odysseus.

Mistakes in a ritual like this one were not something she could accept.

As the stencil filled with delicately guided blood, she began the first five lines that went with the construction of the circle, perfectly memorized and spoken until they came to mind without thought. She could feel the very presence of the air tingle and vibrate almost, as mana poured forth from the world as she began to give voice to the second half of the chant.

Power moved as the world itself stirred, bringing forth enough mana to create the miracle that was a Servant. It was exhilarating, painful, blinding, and a thousand other things she could not think of as she was overwhelmed by the power flowing into the inscribed rings that no magus she had ever seen could ever hope to wield. It was sorcery if she had ever seen it.

And then there was something unexpected. Smoke, and blasts of whirling mana. Something has caught fire? A fire specialized magus!? No… it can’t… and even if it is, I can’t stop now!

“Come past the restraining rings, and be thou the hands that protect the balance!” As her line finished, the plank fully burnt away, producing far more smoke than was normal for a piece of wood that size. A final blast of wind sent her to her knees, flung her glasses off her face. A punishment for hasty reinforcement of her eyes, she had permanently damaged them, and with the smoke she could barely make out anything more than a figure in the ring in front of her.

A nasty, hacking cough ripped through her throat as she picked up her glasses from the floor and turned toward the smoky figure. “I hope-" Again, another cough, this time stifled by her hand "I hope this journey wasn’t as long as your last, Odysseus.”

[Tiresias]

The dead do not easily speak. Their shades require blood and sacrifice to communicate, and in these modern times, little short of a miracle can call an ancient soul to speak it's peace. This particular case did, in fact involve something akin to a miracle of sorts. Further, they had been called by just the wrong thing, loosing the spirit's sharp tongue.

"What man DARES to bring me forward from my rightful rest in the here-after and then call me by the name of that goatfucker Odysseus?!" the shade roared.

Clearly, this Servant was not Odysseus.

From out of the smoke, two glowing white orbs of light shone. The shine wasn't very bright, but enough to be seen clearly through the haze, even before the ancient figure stepped out of the summoning circle and into full view.

And what a figure. Even the oldest man looked young compared to him. He wasn't hobbled or bent, though he did clearly put some of his weight on a staff he was carrying, but his body looked like it had seen lifetimes. His robes were of good material, but clearly was worn-out and the edges were tattered. His feet were bare and boney, his limbs lean and aged, and his white hair long and somewhat wild. Either he didn't care much for appearances or simply didn't realize what he looked like.

And his eyes shone like dim beacons. Completely white, with off-white pupils, faintly glowing with a pale light. His gaze seemed fixed directly forward, his head not turning to get a better look at the young woman.

He didn't need to. She was in the view somewhere, and that's all that was required. He now knew everything about her.

"... You, girl, are dearly mistaken." His voice was stern and, even with the obvious weight of years on it, was one that had no trouble being heard. "I'm not Odysseus, and you are going to find that you are in serious trouble in the coming days, I think."

Tiresias, the famed blind prophet, leaned heavily on his staff. This situation was upsetting. War, fighting. And while she hadn't intended it, she had drawn a blind old man into the fight as her champion. If only that stupid block of wood had actually been Odysseus's ship instead of some old driftwood, she'd have an actual chance; Odysseus may be a loutish goatfucker asshole, but he was a consummate warrior. Too bad for her, and especially too bad for Tiresias.

And worse, he had no idea where the chairs were. That was going to be a hell of a demonstration of his "abilities", when she's forced to take the position of slave-child and guide him to a seat.

[Mia Hedera]

Well, the figure in the smoke was definitely not Odysseus, that much was evident by his rather… emphatic response. Two eyes, both solid white and emitting faint source of light, lancing balefully at her, drifted forward through the smoke towards her. The figure moved hesitantly, yet there was still a commanding presence in his motions.

Is he… leaning on something? That was crazy, what would a Servant need to lean on? They were far above humans, and could do so much beyond what she even dreamed of. If not Odysseus, who? Not a single figure came easily to her mind.

As she slid her glasses back onto her face, the figure stepped out of the fog, shattering any idea she had on who the figure was. An old, decrepit man, swathed in robes that may have once been made of fine material, but had seen overuse. His eyes still shone, drawing attention to his particularly unruly hair.

He definitely did not look like a hero, that much was for certain.

Also he was clearly blind.

If the eyes didn’t give it away at first, the fact that he wasn’t looking directly at her as he spoke again, when he was clearly intending to, sealed it.

"... You, girl, are dearly mistaken. I'm not Odysseus, and you are going to find that you are in serious trouble in the coming days, I think."

It looks like it could be that way… She had somehow managed to draw in a blind Servant. Who had a stick. A nice looking stick, but a stick nonetheless. He didn’t look strong, nor did he have any of the weapons traditionally associated with the other classes. Riding was also something it looked like he did not do, with his bared feet on her cold stone floor.

She pushed her smoky hair back, a shower would definitely wash away a lot of these problems, but that was for later, no matter how grimy she was. First, she needed to figure out who this was… and if he could actually do anything.

“I guess…” She sighed; there really was only one choice “… You are Caster then, I suppose. I am your Master, Mia Hedera.” A blind Caster. Of course that ship piece had not been Odysseus’. It did come late… did someone steal it? At this rate, knowing her luck, this blind world-weary man would be a Saber or something like that. The worst one, if that was the case.

But still, he seemed strangely fit for one of such an age… which was beyond anything she had ever seen before. Dirt looked young in comparison to the Servant that was now in front of her. Rocks looked like children.

No matter what, she shouldn’t start this off on the wrong foot, if that was still possible. He really seemed to have a dislike for the one she had intended summon. Might as well respond to him.

“…And why would you say I’m in trouble?” Well that was a little obvious, the blindness and all, but nothing was ever as it seemed on the surface. There were always secrets hidden deeper, protected. Even more so for a Servant. Secrets were their weapons.

Perhaps, just perhaps, things weren’t quite as bad as they seemed. A good trump card, he must have had a Phantasm of incredible power, if he was a hero and blind. But knowing her luck… She sighed once more. Could this have even… no, she was not going to go there. Things always got worse when one thought that.

[Tiresias]

"Of course I'm a 'Caster'. And I know who you are, girl, there's no need to announce yourself."

Tiresias sighed heavily at the next question. "…And why would you say I’m in trouble?" Of course he thought the answer would be obvious just from his appearance, but apparently she held out hope that he was something special. Time to break it.

"You're in trouble, girl, because you clearly were attempting to summon a cunning and renown warrior-king to fight for you in a war were most of your foes would be famous legends. But instead of a champion, you instead got an old prophet." His ancient voice turned stern again. "An ancient prophet that was quite enjoying a hard-earned rest after lifetimes of selfless service to his fellow man and the Lords of Olympus, thank you very much."

Tiresias drew himself up a bit, standing without the support of Caduceus. His eyes flashed and he finally turned his head, taking in the entire room. Not to actually see it, but to make sure nothing had escaped his 'vision,' particularly in terms of what her defenses were. If he was going to be here and forced into a fight, he may as well see what he had to work with.

"Paranoid, aren't we? Boarded windows, water at every entrance, and those funny flecks of glass you use all over." Despite his comment, Tiresias approved. It'd be hard for their enemies to sneak in... though what active defense they could muster when the did was apparently very limited at the moment. But maybe once he was done with it, it would make a workshop to be reckoned with.

Finally the prophet turned back to the woman, or at least in her general direction. He turned his head left and right, trying to get a feel for exactly what direction she was at, and managed to step directly toward her. Tiresias tapped the ground with Caduceus as he walked, apparently quite practiced with moving about despite his blindness.

He stopped short of her, his gaze still fixed off into the distance, and announced himself with as much dignity as he could muster... which despite his appearance, was quite a bit. "I am Tiresias, blind prophet of Thebes, former priest to Zeus, King of the Gods, former priestess of Hera, Queen of the Gods, faithful servant of Apollo, lord of prophesy, and Athena, lady of wisdom. Servant Caster awaits your commands."

[Mia Hedera]

Well, she had seen something about him, he was Caster, and he was blind.

No matter what she had seen, however what he had seen was… impossible. That was the only word that came to mind. He had swept his eyes around the room and apparently seen every measure she had taken. He had even seen her paranoia, but it was closer to preparedness. Others called it paranoid, she called it making sure.

That isn’t standard Servant ability, is it? If it was, her precautions could have been totally useless. She had to resist the urge to sprint over to the mirror and check the entrances.

I should, I haven’t checked them for… How long had it been? No, that was rude, and this was not a person to give offense to. A Servant was a hero, their spirits beyond the cycle of Akasha, forever preserved, and no matter how brusque this man was he was still a hero. A hero slowly, blindly making his way towards her. But still he moved with the practice of a man who had done that for endless years.

A hero who wasn’t particularly happy with his summoning.

"I am Tiresias, blind prophet of Thebes, former priest to Zeus, King of the Gods, former priestess of Hera, Queen of the Gods, faithful servant of Apollo, lord of prophesy, and Athena, lady of wisdom. Servant Caster awaits your commands."

And he was some old prophet called Tiresias, and some other nice titles. He served how many Gods? From Greek myth. Well it was hard to think of it as a myth when the subject of it stood right in front of her, in all his… inglorious presence. But being blind, the man likely would have not cared, nor could have about his appearance.

Blindness… she had come close to that in her fooling around with her vision. She still had held a bit of a rebellious spirit then, and had attempted modifying them without instruction. Saying it went poorly was rather inadequate. Sight was pivotal to her, without it she had nothing.

But this lord of prophecy was intriguing. Since he was from the age of the gods… his skills would be beyond the things they called divination today, half guesses at the future. Something could be made of it, perhaps.

Situations were never over based on the start; there was always a chance of winning with any setback. Giving up was not something in her vocabulary. In fact, a Caster may even prove more suited to her temperament.

“Well then, holy Tiresias, even if you aren’t quite what I expected to start, we shall make the most of this. By these command seals,” They had been burnt into her shoulder weeks earlier, although he couldn’t see them, they were still reassuring. In fact, she had been on the verge of showing him them, until remembering he was blind. “I am your Master.” She reached out and clasped his free hand in a bit of a handshake; hopefully he would know what it meant.

“I am looking forward to working beside you.” It wasn’t a lie, but she was still disappointed by the fact that he wasn’t Odysseus. It seemed that the prophet would have preferred Odysseus to have shown up as well.

The important part was next, before was just to hopefully make him more approachable. “Now how did you know what I’d done, and how did you know who I was? Is that normal for a Servant to know their Master? Is your recognizing of my preparations a Caster ability? Or are these your own skills, prophet?”

Information was the most important tool in the world, after all. And she had to have it, no matter how grumpy an old man she prodded for it.

[Tiresias]

She shook his hand, which was a nice gesture of equal partnership even if she still was "Master", but the next questions about his abilities compared to normal servants was took away any nice feelings about that. "Now how did you know what I’d done, and how did you know who I was? Is that normal for a Servant to know their Master? Is your recognizing of my preparations a Caster ability? Or are these your own skills, prophet?"

"Of course it's not normal! No other servant does what I do." What a stupid question, didn't this girl know anything about Servants? "Some servants get a boon of knowledge about the world because they need to know their place in it, but that's limited to things like "How do I ride these newfangled things" or whatever. The summoning doesn't tell them anything about their masters except for who their master is. I don't have that sort of ignorance. I know things because I'm a prophet and nothing within my sight is hidden from me, and lo, you were somewhere in my sight when I showed up."

He waved his arms, indicating the room and everything in it. "All of the truth in things are shown to me clearer than any normal sight, even if my blindness means I can't actually see them. I know you and everything about you because of my Vision, just as I know every one of your 'precautions' and how they're intended to be used because I turned around and 'saw' them all. Anything in my sight is instantly known to me in perfect clarity, in Truth even if not in normal vision."

Tiresias sighed, and again leaned on his staff. "You tried to summon Odysseus, but you don't seem to know much about me. I know my story only touched his in one place, but considering the goatfucker would not have made it home without my directions, it was a pretty damn important place. Search your brain, girl, and you may yet recall who I am."

He could tell she knew some the stories, though apparently didn't know much about him. If he could get her to remember his place in the tales she knew, he'd have a much better starting point to explain who he was and what his abilities were. Even if she didn't know his story directly, he'd touched a lot of heroes, and she appeared to know some of them. She just had to think for a moment.

He leaned again, wishing he had something to drink. Or a place to sit. Standing around and explaining things to a master that was overly fond of asking stupid questions about things she already seemed to know would at least be easier if they weren't standing in the middle of a smokey room.

"Anywhere to sit, girl? Xenia should still be kept, even in these days of war." A gentle reminder of the duty of a host, though if she wanted to push the "Master" angle there was going to be... issues. Tiresias had never been a servant to anyone but the gods, but this "Master/Servant" thing made a complete mess of what would otherwise be a straightforward social situation.

[Mia Hedera]

Useful information. No, information was always useful, but this, this was beyond useful. Nothing was hidden from him. Nothing. This was incredible! She had never imagined a Servant with that kind of skill. Did it extend to other Servants? There was a need to ask deep within, but the blind prophet continued.

“Search your brain, girl, and you may yet recall who I am.”

Tiresias. It was familiar, he was right. Of course he was right; apparently he could even see what she knew. But where? He said Odysseus had summoned him… that was right, with the lamb’s blood! The… lamb’s blood. What she had used. Had she called him instead because of that?

Tiresias. An advisor, he guided Odysseus past death, and… Oedipus? Blind, he advised them of the future. Did he know the future then? Gears in her mind began to grind together as she pieced together who he was. Snakes, she remembered that. And the staff he held in his hand… no, it seemed to be on the edge of her mind, but she could not place it.

He had been right, she did know who he was, and now she remembered. As all the pieces clicked together, he spoke once more.

"Anywhere to sit, girl? Xenia should still be kept, even in these days of war."

Xenia? It took her a moment to recollect that. The duty of a host. In fact, had her mind not been on the legends, she probably would not have been able to. Did he see that she knew? Of course he did, otherwise he would have said something different.
That was interesting. He would know the answers and responses before they were even given. That must be disorienting, using questions to prod people in the right direction rather than to actually find something out.

“Ahhh, yes. I apologize for neglecting my duty, but you must understand, I was rather surprised.” That she was, and that smoke was starting to get annoying. “Perhaps we should go upstairs, there are actual seats there, and I could offer you tea as well.” Even if the man was a Servant, it didn’t mean he was a servant. Working relationships were built on mutual respect, if she had been summoned- That was a ridiculous idea, and she would probably be suspicious of tea offered by a blind man, anyways.

Caster did not seem to agree with her though, as he seemed to want to sour her disposition the best he could. Well, she would take that punch and roll with it too.

She walked past the prophet and pocketed her mirror after quickly flipping through the shards. No signs of forced entry. Nothing had been tripped and there were no disturbances. Lucky. As she started up the stairs, she realized, once again, that the man was blind. This was going to be awkward, but she had to ask.

“Caster, do you need a guide?”

[Tiresias]

"Yes, I need a guide. Unless you intend on carrying me around." The prophet managed to give the appearance of rolling his eyes even without moving his gaze. "You don't strike me as the sort to be carrying men around on your back though."

Tiresias had an idea of what direction she was in. When he'd turned to the left, he'd "seen" a door (Recently installed to replace a prior one, not quite the cheapest available but damned close) which had some stairs behind it; those apparently were to the "upstairs" she was talking about, and had been moving toward. The aged man sighed at the idea of having to march up and down stairs in this place; until he'd learned he layout well enough to find his way around without a guide, he'd need her to take him anywhere at all. A fine thing, to need a damn servant to navigate what amounts to his own home.

Still, nothing to be done about it. Short of finding a way outside and arranging some lightning to strike oneself repeatedly.

Tiresias manuevered his staff in front of him, turning in the general direction of Mia and the stairs, as near as he could. Taking the staff in a strange grip, he began poking it back and forth in front of him, and stepping lightly behind it. Anyone watching would realize the staff was as much a blindman's cane as it was an actual walking staff (Or in the case of Caduceus, a staff of great magical power). Working his way over, he managed to get pretty close to Mia, even if he wasn't quite at the stairs.

"Back in Thebes, the self-important families of the city would sometimes send a son to me, for tutelage. In exchange, they'd serve as my..." It struck him that "slave" would probably not go well with the girl. "... servant, particularly when I had to travel into the city. I would put my hand on their shoulder and tell them where we were going, and they would guide me that way." She was a bright girl, he was sure she'd get the idea of what he wanted from that description. And if not, he could always do as he did with a slave child that wasn't performing; a quick bop with Caduceus invariably got even the most sullen slave more interested in their work.

[Mia Hedera]

The drawbacks of having a blind Servant was starting to occur to Mia, at least slowly. Even if he could see everything, he could see nothing. With a Caster from the age Tiresias came from, the age of the Gods, surely he would have powerful magecraft, the very words of the divine.

How would he aim?

Perhaps magecraft of that level didn’t need to be aimed? It kind of seemed like a rude question, and she debated asking it as she led Tiresias up the stairs, and to a table as she prepared tea. The walk was silent, except for an occasional gripe when Tiresias caught his foot against the lip of a stair. She hated silences, but honestly could not think of a single thing to say to him.

The tea was ready rather quickly, and she returned to serve it to him and herself. His mass of robes was rather startling, and completely conspicuous. Not that she had anything real to replace it with, the best she could offer was a copy of her suit, but she was at least two inches shorter than him.

Taking her seat, she sipped at the rather expensive green tea. Pity it had such a short shelf life, and she didn’t even know if the prophet would enjoy it, but he hadn’t objected, and could apparently read her mind… or see what she was doing. Or about her. Or something. He had explained it, but it was still somewhat obscure. There were probably limitations of some kind.

The mirror came out of her pocket easily for a distraction, and it only took a second to place it on the table and watch the rippling images flow back and forth at a single touch of the silver glass.

The silence was unbearable, and she sipped her tea almost for the slight noise it would bring. Well I have to say something.

“So, do you know anything about… no of course you know about this world, you can see it. Perhaps you wish to observe more of it? Perhaps to replace those… things” She gestured at his rather tattered robes, “that you are wearing.”

“Then again, you might look a bit odd on the street. Can you get around without a guide while intangible? And can you even use your eyes like that?” She paused for a quick second, and he did not interrupt. Perhaps he knew, could see, that she had more to say? If so, why did she even bother talking?

“If not, I might have something usable for you to wear, at least until we find something that fits you more correctly from some store. It will be a little snug, though.”

The suits were tailored for her, after all, but perhaps he wouldn’t notice. He was blind after all, and it seemed unlikely that someone from so long ago would even know what a suit was, let alone the difference between men and women’s suits.

He might actually look distinguished in a suit. Perhaps even passable, if he combed his hair into something resembling decent. But that was for another time, as that observation would probably be a bit more offensive.

[Tiresias]

The aged prophet blinked at the offers. Tiresias could not give less of a right damn about clothes, and as far as he was concerned she could dress him up however she pleased. Appearances were the business of people with working eyeballs, and if she screwed it up and got spotted for being weird, he'd be back to resting in the afterlife that much sooner.

But the offhanded offer to take him around to "observe" things... he was torn. On one hand, hell yes, learn everything, find Truth! Honesty and the eternal search for truths, big and small, had always been a driving force in his life. On the other hand, that driving force always made him absolutely miserable. But... still. Knowledge. This world was stupid, fallen, and he could practically taste the stink of dead and forgotten gods, and spirits that had abandoned this place forever for their own places. But it was still a world and it held it's own kind of Truth, and dammit, that was something he always had to know, even if it would suck.

He didn't say that, of course. He sipped his tea and grunted. It was good tea. Hopefully she had plenty of it.

"I can go intangible, yes. I can't see for shit even like that, but I can sort of sense you and keep close." He sighed a bit. "And no, I can't use my Eyes like that. Just like one cannot cast spells or use a Phantasm while intangible, I cannot divine things that way."

"And as for clothes, you can dress me however you like. As long as it's comfortable, I don't care what it looks like, I'm not the one that has to see it. And these robes are just gifts from a king long dead and dust, it's not like he'll be offended if I stop wearing them. You may do whatever you wish with my appearances."

He paused for a moment, and closed his eyes, as if he was about to ask something he almost didn't want to... which is about what he was doing. "And when we're done with whatever chores you have planned... I'd like to visit a place of learning. Somewhere with a lot of recorded information. A depository of scrolls or something." He couldn't read these days, but looking at a written record was often enough to divine it's contents.

"And I'd like more tea."