Morning Stroll

[Marian Fitzrobert]

[Morning, Day 1]

The sun hung low on the horizon as the early morning chill slowly receded along with the darkness. Despite the early hour, people had already begun to go about their daily lives as they opened store fronts and set outdoor tables. Not one realized what was standing in their midst.

"So, master, which way shall we go now?" Standing next to her was the exiled knight that served as her anchor to this world. Despite their....conversation the night before, the morning had been fairly mundane. Not needing sleep herself, Marian had risen at quite an early hour. To her surprise, so had her master. Considering his state the night before, she was surprised he was up at all, but he actually looked much better. Perhaps his body just needed time to adjust to the new load of supporting her existence, she mused. She paid little attention to the people who brushed by, despite their proximity. To all of them, all they would see would be a young man standing alone on a partially empty sidewalk. Part out of concealment, part out of worry about her master, she had shifted into spirit form before they had left. This had the benefit of not only making her invisible, but also dramatically reducing the strain on her master.

Currently, they were standing at the corner of a small intersection, a café that was just starting to prepare for the day to their backs. “Is there not somebody you should report to, now that you are a master?” Even though they called it a war, the little pieces of information that kept popping into her head made it sound more like a tourney. And tourneys always required you to announce yourself before you began. Then again, this was still a war, and wars didn’t have rules – only winners. “Or shall we begin to track down the other participants?”

[Siyr Arend]

She was humming. Humming the same small little tune that the bard from the day before had been playing on his trumpet. There was a chance she would forget it otherwise, and it would be helpful in identifying the bard.

One of his fellows would surely know who she was talking about; hopefully the man had come to no harm in his travel to her place. There hopefully was a pressing reason for his missed appointment rather than injury.

Either way it afforded her an opportunity to visit the surroundings with her shining knight. Who… was not shining at the moment.

Why does he have to be like that!

The people should be in marvel of a knight and her, should kneel softly as they passed on horseback. But none of that was going to happen because of the ‘secrecy’ that the stupid war needed. There had been that temptation to ride the horses through the city but while her knight had not been against it, instead agreeing with her… but she felt something. Not from him, but just the fact that… well it probably wouldn’t be the best of ideas.

It could have been the link, and the more she thought about it the more she regretted it. The horses would have been a nice touch… but her knight probably would have still been invisible.

However she had seen a lot of him in the library. She had been pretending to read for most of it, but eventually had just been occupied with watching him. Wow, Roland had really spent a lot of time reading. And actually reading! Even watching him do so had become boring after a while, but he was absolutely fascinated by the strangest things. A dictionary seemed to especially interest him, as he seemed to be interested in ‘new’ words.

Didn’t Seur Roland speak the language of the Franks? Wouldn’t every word be new to him?

Siyr did not spend all that much time considering that though, as she tried to remember the way she had gone yesterday.

As she wound her way through the streets attempting to return to where she had first found the bard, she felt something from Roland. Alertness? A stiffness seemed to emanate from him, and she would have said he became more aware, but he had always been aware. She was a little inexperienced in this link thing, familiars had always been boring to use.

This was the furthest thing from boring, at least now! All thoughts of that bard were gone from her mind now, she had been hoping to encounter something.

Or maybe he was just getting restless… No, he had to be sensing something! There was a refusal in her heart to believe anything else. She cursed the fact that it was daytime, as if it were night they could fight, if it was someone else, and she could see her beautiful knight in action, instead of having him hover like a ghost.

Nonono, not like a ghost, that’s not a good comparison for a knight! Just like he is invisible! Not a disgusting wraith or something.

“Knight,” Her humming stopped. Erk. She really wanted to say his name. That might get her into a bit of trouble soon, if she wasn’t careful. “Are you at arms for any specific reason?”

Speaking of arms… Roland’s sword… she had seen it form, glowing, incredible, beautiful. Just like the rest of him. It had a presence to it, once again just like the rest of him, and from what she remembered it had cut a breach in a mountain. If they did fight something, well, not much could stand up to something like that.

Actually… could anything? Whatever this was, if it was anything should be thankful it was daytime.

[Tyonis Reybrant]

Tyonis had suggested a stroll through Lucca’s market district in the early morning as the first part of their reconnaissance – he disguised it as a preliminary scouting exercise, but all Tyonis wanted was a quick and easy breakfast. Agostino’s grandiose style even permeated his meals and while Tyonis had experienced a childhood of refined and rich tasting food, he had grown fond of simple tastes. He stood, waiting for the café behind him to open, entertaining himself with Marian’s questions. Agostino mentioned that Masters could telepathically communicate with their Servants in public and vice-versa, as Marian was doing right now, but Tyonis had yet to master that technique or even demonstrate any ability to do so, so he talked to the air in hushed whispers. A couple of teenage girls breezed past him, chuckling. Tyonis rolled his eyes, sparing himself from more humiliation by silencing Marian with a curt grunt. Only when the girls were out of earshot did Tyonis continue.

“Is there a person I need to report to? Yes, technically. Am I going to? No. It’s better if people think Agostino is still alive – I can act in his shadow, use his mansion and his resources. I also have a contingency plan in case the mansion is compromised, but until then…” A low grumble echoes through the chill air, awkwardly cutting off the conversation. Tyonis exhales, letting Marian’s second question hang in the air. Their original intention was to scout the city and find other Masters, but all Tyonis wanted to do was eat. Supporting Marian’s existence was easier than it had been last night – perhaps he was getting used to the strain, but his appetite had increased. Agostino had mentioned that summoning a Servant would probably exhaust his physical and magical reserves; in Tyonis case, recovering his magical energy was easier than his physical. Agonizingly, Tyonis rubbed his stomach, shaking off any concern Marian might have had with a nonchalant shrug.

“Excuse me, sir, but we are open now. Can I help you?” Came a feminine voice from behind.

Tyonis spun with a look of exhausted appreciation. A young waitress stood, propping the café door. Tyonis took to the welcome like a dog to a bone, sighing blissfully at the smell of fresh pastries. “Your order, sir?” The waitress asks, stepping behind the counter.

“Just a breakfast set, please. With an extra strawberry jelly roll.” After the money exchange, Tyonis opts to wait outside, occupying a small table for two. With the shops starting to open, more and more people began to crowd district. Tyonis watches the people passby as a man with a particularly large case pull up in front of the shop. The waitress stepped out and shared some playful banter with him before disappearing back into the café.

“Good mornin’,” the man offers, Tyonis leans forward, smiling and returning the greeting.

“Ah, your Italian is a little rough, are you a foreigner?” The man asks, speaking slower.

“Is it that obvious?” Tyonis shakes his head. He had been working at on learning Italian for the last few months, polishing his speaking skills – it was disheartening for him to have a native speaker so easily discern his inability.

“Been seeing a lot of them, recently. Even around the churches.” He continues, brandishing a shining trumpet. “But there isn’t much to see in Lucca, unless you like old walls. Are you here on business?”

Tyonis almost loses himself and nods quickly. “Yes, yes I am.” He straightens his suit in affirmation.

“Well, welcome to Lucca City! Here’s a song to new friendships.” And with that, the man begins playing just as the waitress delivers his breakfast…

[Roland]

This world was absolutely amazing. Everything was different from what he expected of it. Having been allowed into his Master’s library was truly an amazing thing; the amount of information on this world was humongous, and the moment he touched one of those pages with an uncovered hand he could not help but read through it. Such was the case of a dictionary he found on one of the many bookshelves in that sacred grove.

However, after nearly half an hour of reading the paladin noticed that his Master was getting bored as she was watching him all this time. It was at this instant that he placed the book back where it belonged and turned to the buxom young lady near him, awaiting her command like the loyal knight he was.

And thus, Master and Servant travelled to the city of Lucca on foot as, unfortunately, they could not use the horses. It was really too bad; he really wanted to live the feeling of sitting on a straddle once again. He settled for following her in an immaterial state, where no one could hear or sense him. It was for a good reason as one with armor such as Saber would be too obvious, and attract pointless attention. Yes; even invisible, Saber will serve his Master.

The blond was glad to live such a thing. Everywhere they went, he would turn his blue gaze around to the most interesting thing in his range. Of course, Saber didn’t slow down from his pace as he needed to guard his Master with perfection; most of his attention was on watching her back and following her as they walked.

Suddenly, a familiar feeling passed through the Servant. For some reason, said feeling felt familiar, yet it was not. Maybe it was something that presented itself among Servants, whatever class they were. He remembered now. It was one of the seven classes; a being very much like he was.

The knight’s face took a more serious tone. His hand unconsciously twitched toward the hilt of his weapon, alerted by this sudden feeling. Should he make an appearance? Wait. They were still in public. There was no way that they would be attacked in bright daylight, right? Saber released an inaudible sigh from his immaterial state, starting to relax from the tension he suffered not even a few seconds ago. Even though he was a little more relaxed, he was still on guard.

“My lady,” He responded as he heard her calling him by his profession. It seems that she had felt him over the link. “I have felt another one of the seven classes nearby; a Servant. Have no worries, as I will to protect you.”

He looked left, right, up and down. The paladin even looked behind him to help him sense the location of one of his kindred with ease. He only looked once, as he needed to always keep an eye on his lady. His gaze, however, was still throwing itself from left to right to up to down, his face immobile.

The feeling was stronger than it was before. It felt even more familiar to Saber as he was reminded of himself, a Servant. He could now sense his kindred with even more precision. His eyes stopped at a cafe when the feeling was right in front of him. The Frank found it; finally.

“In the cafe, my lady,” He started on a warning tone. “Watch out.”

[Marian Fitzrobert]

“Is there a person I need to report to? Yes, technically. Am I going to? No.”

Marian found herself surprisingly pleased with her master’s comment. In a way, it was no different than hiding in the woods or losing a tail in a crowd. After all, nobody looks for something when they don’t know it’s there. As for hunting for masters, it seems that was on pause until her master got something to eat. Marian stayed silent as a woman asked her master what he wanted to eat. She didn’t recognize the food, but it certainly smelled good. The entire shop seemed dedicated to selling an assortment of baked goods, with displays full of them.

Marian continued to follow her master as he moved back outside, ever watchful for threats. The large man that approached the shop seemed like he might be a threat. She tensed as he reached into his case, but she relaxed when it was only a trumpet. What type of servant would use a trumpet?

For the next few minutes she simply watched as people filtered past the shop, going about their lives in this strange era. So many people! So many, all going about their lives. In a way, such a lively city was comfortable, but Marian was ill-suited for it. Too many obstacles, too confined for her to use her bow. They needed to move.

And then somebody decided to make her point.

The presence brushed against her consciousness, masked by the crowd and by her own lack of attention. It was another servant. She didn’t know how she knew, but she knew. She cursed herself, and then turned to her master. “Sir, I sense another servant. They are close. We should not stay here. I am ill-suited to close-quarters.” Marian quickly began to survey the crowd. ‘Where is he….?’ Her gaze froze on a spot in the crowd in front of the shop. “They are in the crowd, Master.” Marian drew her sword, ready to defend.

[Siyr Arend]

“My lady, I have felt another one of the seven classes nearby; a Servant. Have no worries, as I will to protect you.”

She had never had any worries at all her brave knight would be unfailing, unflagging, but that didn’t mean she did not like, nor not expect the chivalric response. A knight always protected, always served, and no less the paragon of paladins.

“In the cafe, my lady, watch out.” The café? Ahhh, the place where they served steaming teas, and a bitter coffee, which was nowhere near as refined. Perhaps… huh that guy. There was a man with a trumpet there… the man with the trumpet!

He had come to meet her or perhaps… perhaps he was the Master! She glared at him and he stared back at her in shock.

Then, then he bolted! She had to be right, and there was no need to make Seur Roland materialize to stop the man. She could do it easily herself, and her shining knight could deal with the Servant if worse came to worse. With a careful movement of her leg, she tripped the musician who was turning to run.

There would be no running, especially if they could have a contest later! Such a thing needed to be arranged, planned in advance for easier competition, and not having to deal with ridiculous running around at night. And perhaps once defeated, the man could become their ally! Well, if he yielded, his Servant could help them.

Wait. The feeling of seals was not coming from the man she was now staring at, with a horribly ruined trumpet. It was behind her! But she had been so sure!

Obviously it was a plot, and she quickly spun on her heels, totally ignoring the sputtering musician and the other people looking at her. She had a reason to trip him, and he knew it. There was no reason for explanations to others.

Now she was looking at another knight… no he had the bearing of one, but there was something missing. A…Ronin? Yes, that fit him. A knight with no allegiance perhaps. It was visible in his eyes, his trained posture that had slouched a bit, and just his very being. To her, personalities, the true person, was always revealed. What the person was; what they were destined to be.

It always made her wonder how others could not see it.

His Servant was also apparently invisible. A shame, she would have liked to see another hero from legends. Well she would eventually at least.

“Hello, Ronin,” Yep that was his name now, at least until she learned his. While it was a Japanese term, she could think of no other that fit him. “Mind if I take a seat?” There was a smile lighting up her face. “Of course you don’t~”

She drummed her manicured fingers slowly on the table she was now sitting at, across from the Ronin. The maid had done a very good job of it, of course that had been what she had been hired for. Well I might as well get this out of the way so we can have a normal conversation. Or just so I can leave in case this guy is boring, which seems likely.

He looked boring. Well empty, but still boring.

“So, want to duel? Later of course~” That bit of a smirk, mostly a smile still brightened her face.

It was best to be upfront, especially when she could already imagine that this would be one of those people that would want to talk overmuch, or perhaps even lecture her. Now that wasn’t very entertaining.

The only sound was a sprinting bard. She no longer was worried about his services or his health. She was interested in this.

[]I'm not sure if Marian is visible or not right now, so I guessed no. If she is, tell me and I'll add more to this. The actions will remain the same though.[]

[Tyonis Reybrant]

Tyonis watched the events unfold with mild interest. A rather voluptuous brunette invaded the relatively quiet parlor, her entrance trumpeted by the trumpeter’s fright. Honestly, it was like something out of a bad comedy, as the musician bolted only to be tripped by the brunette’s simple side-sweep. He cried miserably, not out of pain, but because he had fallen on top of his treasured instrument, turning it into a wreckage of its former glory. “Noooo!” He bellowed, moping uncontrollably. For a moment, Tyonis felt pity for the poor man. But that pity turned into seething hatred as he realized the woman had been staring at him for several seconds. It took no genius to figure out why she was staring at him; she was a Magus – a Master. More importantly, the woman was more skilled than he if she could sense his suppressed magical energy with just a glance.

Using his peripheral vision, Tyonis assessed the environment. Six people at his back, two seated at his right, and a crowd on his left. Tyonis wasn’t sure about Marian's opinion of using human bodies to cover his escape, but he could argue that after the fact. Regardless, it made retreating into the street would be the first option; unless the brunette really wanted to kill him. Three breaths passed before the woman started to approach him, to his surprise. Marian was just as tense, sensing her Master’s change of heart. Judging from last night, Tyonis could conjure his sword almost as fast as he could blink. A few more centimeters and she would be within his striking distance. There would be no need to retreat if Tyonis could cut the woman’s head off, right here. Marian was prepared to materialize to intercept the brunette’s Servant. Archer might not have been specialized for close-combat against other Servants, but she could buy more than enough time for Tyonis to deliver a killing blow. Unless the enemy could cast a Single-Action Spell greater than C Rank or had superior physical abilities, this battle was already over. It was a gamble, but Tyonis had already committed his life to Marian’s sword. The next split-second would decide if that trust was well-placed.

“Hello, Ronin. Mind if I take a seat? Of course you don’t~”

What?

And so the whimsical Magus entered his attack range unhindered. Tyonis blinked. His mind was like a drawn bowstring, held back by only two fingers; her words completely threw him off. Had the woman known how close she came to death, just then?

“So, want to duel? Later of course~”

It took a while for Tyonis to regain his bearings and during that time, the woman took her spot across him. Her voice held a straight-forward sincerity that Tyonis could not deny, and his own mentality was unable to keep up with the brunette’s antics, ruining any desire he had to fight in the process.

“Relax, Archer.”

Two words that finalize a short ceasefire between both Servants. Tyonis takes the opportunity to sip on his hot milk, thinking about his next move.

“I accept your challenge, Lady.” He states after a few moments, formally addressing her as he did any female Magus when he was still a Knight. “But only if I decide the time and place. Will Milady grant me that privilege?”

Tyonis lays it on thick, preying on the brunette's assumption of his knighthood and her apparent misunderstanding of the Holy Grail War. He eyes her expectantly, his gaze drifting down from her face and back up, momentarily. This Master was packing more than just Magecraft and a Servant…

[Roland]

If he thought that his Master was not a woman of action when it came to tripping scared musicians, then he was wrong; she had reacted quickly and carefully as to stop the man’s movements. It also appeared that the young lady thought that said musician was a Master, when he was obviously not due to the lack of Servant appearing to help. He knew all along where one of his kind was. It was located at the table in front of them beside a man who had the familiar bearing of a knight when it came to posture.

Saber walked beside his prana anchor, having already drawn part of his sword from its sheath. ‘One could never be too careful.’ Such was one of the many things the wise and strong Oliver said; he said such things so much that some of them eventually rubbed off on the blond. Ignoring the fact that his Master was walking toward an enemy like she would to anyone else, the Servant focused his whole being onto the opposing duo, trying to discern any possible weakness.

He suddenly felt something akin to the likes of killing intent coming from the man. Did he really think that he would attack his Lady without having to deal with a Saber? Sure, he had a Servant to rely on if there was enough trouble, but as the strongest knight class he would immediately kill the man before he even made a single move. Besides, the opposing man's movements were kind of limited due to the table, and due to the fact that he was in a seated position. The paladin focused his entire killing intent on the duo, daring them to do such an action; he was ready to materialize his body and slay them with the blade of Durandal.

The killing intent coming from the man was thrown off as his Master spoke as if she was greeting everyone else. Being carefree is a good thing, but, when you’re dealing with things that could erase your very existence, you shouldn’t act like that. Act more prepared for a fight; act more carefully. This might be one of the many lessons Saber would have to make her learn in the nearest future.

He was still on guard. Even if the opposing Master was now unable to attack due the woman’s presence and her words, the other Servant was still about to make a move. The sword slid off its sheath a little more, nearly getting out of its prison as he readied himself for a possible fight until the mood was broken by two words coming from the black-haired man.

The tension was broken by such a short sentence. Saber allowed himself to sheathe most of his sword once again, yet still on guard. There was a good thing about this short moment of tension, and it was the fact that the man said his Servant’s class; he was having a face-to-face with an Archer class. With only that information in mind, the paladin quickly made an assessment of an Archer’s strengths and weaknesses. They excel at long distance, but their skills are not extremely good at close-combat.

“His Servant is an Archer,” He said so only his Master could hear him. “Letting them decide the time and place would only make us at disadvantage.” It was not that he was afraid for his own life; Saber was known as being the bravest of the bravest after all. What he was more afraid was of his own Master’s safety.

He stayed silent for a moment, his hand still placed on the sword’s hilt. What happened next made him want to materialize right there and strangle the man with his own hands. His killing intent rose once again as to warn the opposing Master. He saw those eyes go down from his Master’s face, drifting down to her most beautiful assets. Saber felt like he could read the man’s mind for a second. No one, and especially not an enemy, would go and stare at his Lady’s body without the blonde’s consent. If they weren’t in public, he would have shown himself and would have proceeded to beat that man up to a pulp. It was the same thing with Aude, really. That fiancée of his had quite the nice body when it came to looks and the sight of seeing her run and bounce with an extremely bubbly attitude was quite the ni- The point was that even with her, Saber would beat up the people who drifted those eyes on her. Really, a man should show respect to women by not going and staring at their breasts. Sure, they could do that to any other women, but the blonde was not about to let someone stare at Aude, or, in this era, Siyr.

Maybe he was just that protective of the women he works under, but those were just details.

The paladin calmed down after the man’s face went up once again to meet his Master’s. What now?

[Marian Fitzrobert]

“Relax, Archer.”

Marian stared at her Master for a moment before she sheathed her blade. Her hand remained on the hilt, ready to defend at the slightest hint of aggression. She could sense the other Servant, and he was just as tense as she was. It was quite the contrast to the Female master, who was simply chatting with her master about a duel. How the blazes had she survived this long with an attitude like that? Either she was far better than she let on, or her servant was very, very good.

“Master, I do not think we should underestimate this girl.” Marian voiced her opinion to her master, the only one that could currently hear her. “No matter what she appears to be, she is still a master. We cannot afford to make assumptions.” Playing the fool was a common-enough ploy. To hide your strength while feigning weakness was the key to a good trap. As she watched her masters gaze drift briefly, however, she was reminded that there were several ways to lure your prey. “Master, we cannot allow ourselves to be distracted.” The enemy master was in her own masters striking range. She could stall the enemy servant long enough to allow him to slay her, but the Servant might strike down her master in a final act of retribution. That was assuming that the first attack succeeded. The Servant could stop them both, depending on the class. They didn’t know enough, and this environment was not favorable to her. She disliked frontal confrontation – to risky. Better to strike from a distance, where the enemy couldn’t get you. “We don’t enough to fight here, but I doubt the girl would accept your conditions.” Then again, she did just walk up to them and start talking.

[Siyr Arend]

“His Servant is an Archer, letting them decide the time and place would only make us at disadvantage.”

An Archer… of course. A ‘Knight’ class. How that even made sense… Archers killed from afar, whereas knights would lift the visor to their opponent, showing their face before an honourable fight.

“Hmmph.” Should have expected nothing less from a lost knight. Just a Ronin with some feigned honour.

“I was expecting something… more. When two people agree to a duel it’s at a mutually agreed location. Although expecting a ronin to remember the ways of the civilized was perhaps presumptuous of me. While you may be masterless, I would have suspected some shred of honour to remain. Perhaps that was too much to ask.”

Thankfully her beautiful Knight informed her of the other Servant. Disgusting that he would try to besmirch honour to win. Did he have no shame? No competition was worth tossing honour aside and trapping someone.

No wonder his lord or lady had abandoned him, or died from his failure. A fake knight though… perhaps it would be best to be rid of him soon.

It would also be a shining example of her knight’s power. She could barely contain her excitement as she continued to talk to the Ronin, and so her speech came across as bubbly, even to herself, despite trying for a mocking tone.

“So, let’s try this again, shall we~? I thought being upfront would work, as I perhaps believed you were a man of honour, however that’s not the case!” She stood and put her hands on her hips, leaning over so she was almost eye level with the sitting man. She was lecturing him, so she needed to adopt the pose of a lecturer. That much was simple, otherwise it wouldn’t work.

Huh, actually he wasn’t that bad looking, other than his… emptiness. Although that was likely caused by his forfeiture of honour. Huh… perhaps…! Yes, stories were filled with redemption, of knights returning to their lieges. And as a Lady it was her duty to help bring him back.

And a crushing defeat might do just that.

“So, since you have forgotten the way things work, it seems, I await your introduction, as any man should introduce himself to a woman.” Still a lighthearted tone. It sounded like she was joking! “Originally I thought we could deal with this boring stuff later, but it seems like you need a re-education! And try not to make this boring, because remember I’m doing you a favour.”

She paused for a second, sitting back down. “So, what’s your name?” A little bit of encouragement might help him. Ughhhh, this was going to be so boring, but it would be worth a fight. A chance to see her mage in action.

…He had looked ready to kill her a while ago. She hadn’t even noticed until now. Not that it mattered; her knight could protect her from anything this pair had to offer. Could protect her from anything any pair had to offer. Could protect her from anything~!

[Tyonis Reybrant]

Tyonis sighed seemingly defeated at her denial. His shoulders had slumped disappointedly, but there was a slight grin on his face. She might have circumvented his words, but she had unwittingly revealed something else about herself and the nature of her Servant. Whatever her Servant was, it was related to some kind of blade – a Knight Class. Although he did not show it, every single one of Tyonis’ breaths felt constricted, as if a sword tip were placed at his throat. It was an intense killing intent that manifested into physical sensation, in addition to mental duress. And it was a feeling Tyonis was all too familiar with. The brunette’s attitude helped to clarify her Servant’s mindset, as well.

Straightforward people were always so easy to read.

The only problem was Marian was almost as naively hard-headed as the voluptuous Master in front of him. The difference was, at least Marian knew how the world worked. Archer had not completely accepted the sheer amount of hypocrisy within the world, but she at least acknowledged that it existed. It made arguing against her difficult. But this Master had not seen or suffered from such horror. Not every lost knight regained their honor or even tried to get it back. Some just wanted to forget. Tyonis was of this kind.

As such a “knight,” Tyonis was familiar with word games and how to manipulate conversations.

This entire conversation was a ploy Tyonis learned through many years of knighthood and after. The only way to deal with such straightforward people was to trap them with words. Tyonis had offered the woman a chance to evade his scheme, but because of their dichotomic nature, “Relax, Archer,” had pinned down his adversary. It set up the rest of this conversation to go in Tyonis’ favor. The brunette had either ignored that statement completely or merely acknowledged the identity of his Servant and the threat behind it. She did not take into account the importance of information exchange prior to a duel and had cornered herself by asking more from him without offering anything in return. And so, she had trapped herself within Tyonis’ web.

“Milady, how you disadvantage me so,” Tyonis began, shaking his head. “As you said, I am merely an undignified wanderer. You called me a ‘ronin,’ but this 'honourless ronin' purposefully reveals the nature of his Servant to you, and yet you deny him the chance of choosing where he fights. Instead, you press for more information, while I ask you for nothing but my right as a defendant to choose the time and place. It seems that, in your haughtiness, you have forgotten the weight of words before a duel. Or maybe you never knew of them in the first place.”

“As a common man, a nameless wanderer who holds no ties to you, I must inform you that no amount of vintage dresses will give you dignity.”

“But, Milady, I still have faith in you. You are different from those other high-handed princesses who tote around the title 'Lady' without a thought to her true integrity. I can tell by your words and your eyes that you hold truth, honor, and bravery to be the greatest and highest of doctrines. Because of Milady’s purity, I will accept her duel. Three-hours from the city, there is a large forest. Tonight, I will wait for you within that sea of trees. Meet me there and I will challenge you head on and without hesitation, as any honorable knight should! If Milady so desires, and even if it will disadvantage me further, I will also give my name, if my honor is not enough?”

In only two exchanges, he had insulted her honor while painting himself as the victim by preying on her lack of dueling etiquette. In his next breath, he compared her to women of her same stature, who merely posed at being honorable. Then gave the brunette a chance to redeem herself by offering an ultimatum: "fight me at the place of my choosing or accept the besmirchment of your honor, making you no different from any other hypocritical 'Lady' who toted honor and dignity around like a fashionable dress, only to be discarded when deemed too difficult to bear." The checkmate was further solidified by his additional offer of acquiescing to her demands of his identity. She had the option of also revealing her Servant's Class, but that would only put them on equal ground - it would not preserve or correct the brunette's mistake. In order to do that, she would have to give him yet another handicap, as the challenger almost always complied to at least one demand of the defendant - either by the duel's location, method, or first-attack.

Tyonis’ eyes were languid, as if daring her to jump out and deny the duel and prove that she was no true ‘Lady.’ It was an expectant, taunting gaze like that of a teacher’s who knows his student is a failure – or like a disappointed, but encouraging father. They spoke of Tyonis' experience with "ilk like that" and mockingly preconceived the brunette as someone who would simply throw away her honor in favor of a better position.

How would she counter? Or would she be so flustered and aggravated she would summon her Servant and kill him where he sat, in cold blood? Or would her Servant act of his own accord and slay him without a second thought? But what would the Servant’s Master think of such a bloodied, heartless deed?

Rhetorical questions, all of them.

Straightforward people were always easy to deal with.

[Marian Fitzrobert]

Marian watched as her master deftly retook control of the conversation. Though she had always found such word games dreadfully boring and far too tedious, she would admit they had their uses. This occasion was one of them. The woman at the table across from her master obviously held honor in high esteem, and Marian had the feeling that her servant was no different. Her own master, however – as depressing at he might be to be around, at least he seemed to be in no rush to accept his fate. He seemed to have quite the silver tongue, as he slipped insults into every other statement. Alan had always had great fun insulting whatever local annoyed him with witty insults and the such, but Marian always wondered what the point was if they didn’t realize they were being insulted.

Her master was hoping to bait the lady into divulging more information, or at least to accept his conditions for the duel, but there was always the risk that the insults would work too well. In that case, the duel would begin far earlier then either of them wanted. Marian had little chance of beating the enemy servant in this space, at this range, so her main objective would be getting herself and her master out alive. There were several windows that looked like they would be easy enough to break through, as well as several doors that offered routes out. If she had too, she could use one of her Phantasms to cover the escape, but she didn’t want to give herself away this early. All she could do is watch as her master awaited the woman’s response.

[Roland]

He did not like the guy at all. Worse, he hated him. He loathed him. He would not- No, he will not get away with this unharmed. If he was thinking that he will get away with basically insulting his Master without a wound, then that guy was the worst idiot or an ignorant. He was playing with feelings, he was insulting her honor, he made himself look like the victim; every word that came out from the man’s mouth, as polite as they sounded, felt like venom to Saber. It reminded the blonde of that man. Who did he think he was, tainting his lady’s honor with such words?

Saber would have killed him immediately in the middle of his speech if it weren’t for him reminding himself to stay calm. But even then, the temptation was too high. Saber will have that man’s head on a silver platter in some way or another. He will not stand his Master being insulted by some random man. The paladin was angry, very angry. If he was to be seen, people would see the boiling anger in his eyes and every inch of him was trying to find a grip as if they wanted to strangle something – or someone, in that man’s case.

That man said too much. It was too much for his calm facade to endure.

It was official; Archer’s Master brought forth the greatest of Charlemagne’s paladins’ hostility. He stared at her body, he shrugged her off, he insulted her honor as a lady, he passed himself for the victim. Every single thought that invaded Saber’s mind were not the type that you would have seen in the usual knight in shining armor. They were those of a knight wanting to protect the honor of his king. Each of them resumed themselves into a single thing: Kill the insulter. Murder him in cold blood. Protect his Master’s honor. Slay the beast that roamed the land. Sentence him to death.

He knew what his best friend would have thought. He would have told him to calm down and endure in silence like they always did when they were but squires. But this time, he would not let that go. Saber endured that man’s insults and treachery in silence and it had cost him his life. It had cost him his best friend’s life. It had cost him the death of nearly everyone in his troops.

His anger controlled him. He was bold, brave and honorable, but his only flaw was that he had the temper of a fiery beast. There was no need for his lady to summon him; he would do it himself, at this moment.

An arm suddenly materialized from thin air, smashing the table in anger as the rest of a paladin’s body appeared with a weapon in hand. Armorless, he appeared as what a normal knight without gauntlets would or greaves would look like. It was not the shining paladin in armor that stood in front of a man. It was the knight that Saber always was, pointing his sacred and shining blade at an insulting and despicable man’s throat, ready to murder at the first bad move or at the next moment something went wrong.

“Y-You!” His face was seething with wrath, icy blue eyes staring directly into the man’s, pouring every inch of his intent to kill. His blood was boiling; he was itching for a fight. He would defend his lady’s honor as he would have done the same to his King. He was daring the two enemies to do anything.

One wrong move and that man was as dead as a rabid beast that needed to be put down. His head would fly across the room as if it was but a ball. Saber would put him to justice.

[Siyr Arend]

Huh, was he really saying she was honourless? The nerve! She was right; she always was about how people were. Those who realized they had lost face often tried to lower others to their level rather than regain it. Ignoble boor.

But most shocking was his insult of her clothes!

“V-vintage?” She managed to sputter. Her clothing was the height of fashion! This was what a Lord of the tower wore, and her family was most definitely Lords. Obviously this man was not only honourless, but also an idiot! Not only that but who confused a skirt and a blouse with a dress? Seriously!

Did he seek to attack her any way he could? Obviously, otherwise he would have not mocked her taste in clothes. She was wearing an elegant high-necked red blouse, sleeveless, with tiny silver bands running diagonally down from her left shoulder. It was buckled at the front with a wide black belt, polished and edged with silver again; she really liked silver and gold, and wore anything they would fit with. The buckle itself was silver once again, and was of a buckle trim style.

Her skirt itself was black, which once again lent to the confusion of him calling it a dress. It was a little ruffled along the side, and tight across her hips, reaching almost down to her knees. A pencil skirt, more or less.

How dare he just… comparing… her clothes to some vintage style!
The fury she possessed not only came from her, but from her knight as well. Across the link she sensed his anger building.

Until it finally burst forth, and he materialized in the middle of his arm slamming down on the table. With a crash that knocked what was left of the Ronin’s drink onto the ground, clearly restrained as the table was not destroyed, although she was actually surprised it survived the force of his blow.

Even his rage was perfect! Defending her honour, like the knight he was. Especially from foul miscreants like this one in front of her. His sword followed, and was instantly at the man’s neck. One more mistake, and this Ronin would learn his last lesson.

It inspired her with confidence.

“I think you have been judged~ Perhaps you should… rethink your stance. Anything nasty you say or do could end very poorly, it seems~”

She shifted herself much closer to her knight. He protected even her honour, perfectly. A perfect knight, she had truly received the very best in this competition. As was natural.

He wasn’t wearing armour though, but that did not detract from his beautiful appearance. He was a knight, even without the shining steel.

If the other Servant did anything, even glared at her, her master would likely die.

“It seems you didn’t understand my lesson. So you revealed the nature of your Servant, that is merely expected of a man who carried honour at one point in his life. I have a Saber, if you can’t tell at the moment~” She felt like teasing the man, it was beginning to get entertaining again! “Since you lack honour, I will not and respond with my name. I am Siyr, of the Arend family.” Her family was one of the just above twenty family of Lords, surely that name might drum some respect in the mind of his that so lacked it.

“See, that’s not so hard to do, Ronin! I pressed for no information other than a name. You seem to think that me informing you of the due process of things was probing for information. I just wanted to get the fun part out of the way first, relax tensions, you know. If I sat beside you and we started cordially it would be tense and boring! But now it’s fun!” She looked across the table at him, with a swordpoint along his bare neck.

“Ok well maybe you aren’t having fun. But since I need to reexplain this to you, duels are on mutually agreed ground. I might have accepted it earlier, before you showed your true colours that I had oh so hoped not to be.” This was definitely worth it, even if all the people were staring at her while she remonstrated the Ronin.

“See, you don’t have to worry! You get an opinion too! That’s what mutually means~” Of course she sounded almost as if she were talking to a child, and that was on purpose. Even a child would have more honour than this. Attacking her, and her clothing style? Who did that?

The other patrons of the establishment were freaked out, and backing away, leaving them room. One was tapping away at one of those electronic handheld things. Had they not seen a man without honour before? Did they think she was being too severe on him?
Whatever, who cares what the peasants think or do?

[Tyonis Reybrant]

Tyonis felt Saber’s killing intent spike high before Saber’s initial strike – it was the only thing that kept him from losing both his arms on the table. Before he could even blink a sword tip was placed delicately across his right carotid artery, drawing a thin line of blood. Any further and Tyonis would be reduced to nothing but a bleeding corpse. Slowly, his eyes run up the length of the blade, memorizing every feature. It was a flawless, peerless work of craftsmanship, unparalleled by anything he had ever seen. For a moment, Tyonis doubted that it was a sword made by human hands. It spoke to him of unequaled greatness – a king of swords. Indiscernible inscriptions lay at the blade base, of a language long lost to the world of men. The hilt and pummel were made of lavish black and yellow gold, yet simple in their shapes, creating a fluid contrast of beauty and practicality.

Rather than fear, Tyonis felt envy: he wanted that sword. Just for a single moment, he’d like to hold it in his hands and feel its weight.

His gaze trailed up to its bearer’s face, which boiled with pure malice, enhanced by the sheer amount of killing intent. If Tyonis had not been raised as a knight, born to fight and die by the sword, he might have died out of pure fear. The weight of Saber’s malignance paled the threat of his blade and would have paralyzed the lungs of a weaker man. Catching his breath, Tyonis meets Saber’s eyes. Unlike his Master, Saber was well-prepared to kill him on the spot. Truth be told, Tyonis did not even consider Saber’s Master as an actual opponent. Someone so unaccustomed to battle and death would never register as an enemy within Tyonis’ eyes. Instead, he took Siyr as Saber’s greatest weakness. For a single moment, Tyonis thought his plan had backfired, but there was one great flaw in Saber’s outburst: he did not kill Tyonis. Instead, he had left his blade menacingly on his throat. It gave Tyonis a chance to formulate a countermeasure.

Without another glance, he dismisses Saber’s presence as seemingly irrelevant, returning to address the Master. “Milady Arend, you have a fine sword at your disposal,” he acknowledges, complimenting Siyr’s Servant and giving a slight nod in his direction, careful not to pierce his own neck. “But as we are merely speaking, do you mind retracting your blade? I hardly think this is an appropriate place for our battle and I daresay, a Lady such as yourself would never desire to kill an unarmed man whom you chose to approach.” He smiles slightly. "Besides, drawing your blade over breakfast is so uncivilized.”

To solidify his victimized position, he forbade Archer to put up a defense in his name, speaking to her for the first time using telepathy, threatening to use a Command Seal to keep her subdued and in astral form. Tyonis gives Siyr a side-long glance as if to reevaluate her before turning his gaze up to Saber.

“You must know this as well Saber: Your Master’s hands are pure and stainless. She does not have the stench of blood and death lingering around her like we do. As a Servant, you are her sword, something she takes responsibility for. Are you prepared to break your Master’s virginity in cold-blood? Against a man who your Master approached with the intention of dueling in honorable combat? Against a man who offers up no resistance? With us this close, I believe your Master will need quite the bath to wash my blood out of her pretty, long hair.”

His eyes float back to Siyr. "So, Lady Arend, what will you do? Your Servant is itching to kill me. All you have to do is simply nod your head and mine will fly across this room and you will have won. It might not be in the way you dream of, but you'll have taken your first victory. Can you order your Servant to finish me off whilst I make no attempt to defend myself?"

Tyonis leans forward, genuinely curious about her mindset.

"Who are you Siyr Arend? A woman who kills when she's insulted and takes lives in a barbaric tantrum of rage - are you a tyrant who flaunts power and deals death as a punishment after an exchange of words, or do you stay your blade in favor of a more peaceable reconciliation?"

Tyonis' tone changes to impatient. This was turning into a waste of time and he could only deal with such blind stupidity for so long. Siyr Arend's inability to use critical thinking skills was renown among the Lords and Professors of the Tower. Word games would not work on her - she was simply that stupid. Instead, he'd have to be far more direct.

Times like this reminded him of how much he hated the many idiocentric, Clocktower Princesses.

"Make your choice, Lady Arend. Do you rescind my rights as the Defendant of the duel to choose the time and place, or will you allow me those rights and face me tonight in that forest? Or, will you simply kill me here? As unfortunate as it sounds, we've come to an impasse. I'm not one to beg for my life nor am I one to negotiate with a tyrant who only dresses herself with words like honor and justice. But resisting your judgment now will only get countless innocents involved." Tyonis makes a sweeping motion to indicate the crowd gathering around them and outside the shop, staring and taking pictures of the blonde man threatening another with a sword.

"Even this dishonored knight hates unnecessary bloodshed and knows when to sheathe his sword. For their sake, I surrender any notion of defense." He was constantly aware of their unwanted audience, and kept himself angled away, hiding his face while still addressing Arend. It would only be a matter of time before the authorities arrived. Still, their presence had served to move the conversation back into his favor. Once more, he was able to paint himself as the victim to Siyr's tyranny - a nameless knight willing to give up his life for the sake of the common people.

Could Siyr kill someone who had shown such idealism despite her insinuations? Would Saber still openly threaten him at the expense of exposing his Master's identity? Tyonis was truly curious - despite their obvious flaws, the pair had exceeded his predictions. Both of them were stupid beyond belief, but their dance was still mildly entertaining. Slowly Tyonis rises and comes to a full stand, with Saber's blade trained on him the entire time.

"So, Siyr Arend, my life is in your hands. Give me my rights or murder a defenseless man who freely chooses death in order to protect those unrelated from yours and your Servant's bloodlust. Either way, I have nothing left to say." His eyes shift from Siyr to Saber and back, waiting for her judgment.

[Marian Fitzrobert]

This pair was disturbing her calm. Every statement and action they made just seemed to reinforce her initial feeling about them. You do not give a sword to a child, lest they hurt themselves or others. But that is exactly what the grail had decided to do. This conversation would not last much longer. Either an agreement would be reached, or someone would die.

The latter option suddenly became much more likely as an arm destroyed the small café table, sending other patrons scrambling in fear. A Knight soon followed the arm in entering the physical realm, a sword pointed at her master’s throat with astounding speed. Her own master reacted almost as fast, telling her to not counter, even as she had already started to materialize. After a moment’s hesitation, she complied, remaining an intangible form. Such an action simply proved what she thought of her master – a man with little fear of his own death. A useful trait, but dying on the first day would be poor form.

As the two masters continued their conversation, She took her time observing her opponent. Her first guess was that he was saber, soon enough confirmed by his own master. His sword, as expected, was finely crafted with etchings along a blade the gleamed in the morning light. It was a beautiful blade, elegantly functional. Its wielder looked familiar, though from where she wasn’t sure. He stood there, without armor, ready to kill her master. And she had been ordered to do nothing, under threat of command spell.

And still he tried to dictate conditions! Even with a sword at his throat, he continued trying to force the enemy to acquiesce to his demands. He was either brave or a fool. And yet her hands were tied, by her own master no less. All she could do is await the looming judgment.

[Siyr Arend]

She raised an eyebrow at the Ronin. There was really no point it seemed, he did not understand the ways duels worked at all. The doubt picked at her mind that he may have never been a knight, but she was never wrong.

“First of all, the sword was because as my Servant, and my knight, defends my honour. As a lady under his protection, any offenses given to me are therefore like insulting his honour thrice over. This should be something you know, but it seems not, as by the same code you claim refuge in you are sentenced. I was willing to forgo that, honestly, since you have no honour by insulting mine.”

It was not hypocritical in the slightest. Her honour was simply more important than his, by the same rules he claimed to abide. Not only was she still a noble in good standing, but she was also a Lady. He was a fallen knight, and he dare lectured her on the proceedings of nobility!?

“Second, you declared the time first, which was your choice of the three positions, which should actually be my choice as a challenger. You also seek to claim location? Are you sure you know the rules of the duel?” She looked him in the eyes, finding no response. “Since I need to refresh your memory of a civilized duel as well- wait…”

She looked at the sword pointed at his neck as if it was the first time she saw it, and her glaring knight. “I don’t think he needs more encouragement to get the point anymore, knight. He understands his mistake~” There was a bit of hesitation in her tone, marvelling at the man’s bright blue eyes, and once again his protectiveness. He really was like her brother!

Ugggggh, lecturing him is so boring! And here I thought he actually knew something… is this even going to be worth seeing the fight later? Of course it was. A knight like Roland fighting? For her? It would be worth near whatever the cost. However she still needed to make it occur on fair grounds it seemed.

“Ok!” She held up three fingers in front of her face, “There are three important points in any duel!” Well she had to make this somewhat exciting. Seriously, she was sitting in a café talking to some fail knight with no emotion. “One.” A finger ticked down. “Location of the duel. Two,” Another finger fell into her palm, “Time of the duel. The one you claimed! See, not hard so far. And three,” Her final finger fell down, “How far apart we fight.”

Siyr paused, tapping her nails on the table in a rhythmic pattern. The man was frustrating her, still not having introduced himself. Seriously, she was beginning to think she had made the wrong choice asking him to duel. “See, you first claimed the time, rather than the other two. Which leaves one to me, and one to be agreed upon, usually by seconds… but who has seconds in a thing like this?” The war did not really chance towards seconds, with only seven positions of actual power.

“See, I would likely choose how far apace we are, and leave the grounds to mutual discussion, as I am sure of my knight." She smiled, and almost felt comforted at that. There was nothing in Roland to not be sure of. "I am not stupid, I know how duels work, and your knowledge of them seems a little strange. The sword was merely an emphasis, and protection against slings and arrows you threw at my reputation. You had your rights, and have tried to push them further than necessary.”

“So the real question is not whether I have given you rights as a defendant, which I have, but will you accept your right of first choice, and not try to push it further? If not, I’m sure I can find someone else with more noble qualities~”

[Tyonis Reybrant]

Tyonis let her counters pass over, unphased by her misunderstanding of his words. Instead he waited until she was finished, his arms crossed, looking obviously bored of the conversation himself. This woman was confusing pistol duels and sword duels, or was, apparently, trying to hybridize them both to suit her definition of dueling. Unlike Siyr, Tyonis adhered strictly to the traditional style of dueling, where the weapons would be mutually discussed or decided individually, with the Defendant being the person to choose the time and place. Pistol duels, on the other hand, had a mutual agreement of range, as well as time and place, which was what Siyr referred too. It was off-putting that her claims at justification were so stubbornly supported despite being technically incorrect. It reflected Siyr’s inner nature – she an unrelenting bitch pretending to be a princess.

Tyonis ignored her condition of range, marking it as a ploy to disadvantage Archer. Or at least, prevent her from fighting at her full potential. Tyonis was not stupid enough to fall for such an obvious and poorly laid-out trap. All of Siyr Arend’s misconceptions about knight dueling as well as the Holy Grail War led Tyonis to the same conclusion as his Servant:

Siyr Arend had been given a sword she was unprepared for.

But what truly disgusted Tyonis was Saber. He was a being of obvious power. And as a Knight, it was his duty to guide his charge, especially if his charge was inexperienced. Siyr’s purity was like a white sheet waiting to be painted red: Saber’s uncontrolled outburst did nothing to stem Siyr’s pride and overconfidence. Treating her enemies as maggots before her feet was not a way to win – Saber would know that. His blade spoke of countless life-or-death battles that he barely survived. But instead of careful guidance, Saber chose to let his emotions ride high. He had revealed himself, plainly, and even drew his sword in public over a breakfast table argument. That was not Knighthood – it was blind zeal.

Tyonis could only label Saber as someone who succeeded in living a life of servitude, but learned nothing from it. Saber was someone who was only willing to “serve.” He would not “guide” or “teach.” Even as a fallen Knight, Tyonis knew the importance of such responsibilities: because he had failed in applying those assets, just like Saber apparently did with Siyr.

He half-heartedly listened to Siyr talk while coming up with his own verbatim, but the crowd was getting larger by the moment: this needed to be settled before The Church’s Burial Agency decided to settle it for them. Tyonis knew that no human, no matter how powerful, could match either of the Servants present, but the Burial Agency was relentless – to quell this dispute, they would wipe out the entire street block, in broad daylight if they wanted to. Saber brandishing his sword in public was the only excuse they would need, if the Executioners needed any. If this went on, that scenario would play out. The Vatican was only a few hours away and Italy belonged to The Church. They could do whatever the hell they wanted here. Moreover, The Seventh was one of the Agents assigned to eliminate undue disturbances: a variable monster in her own right.

The thought of being impaled by hundreds of Black Keys on the first day did not sit well with Tyonis. Having hundreds of innocent bystanders get killed because of his inaction made his stomach turn just as hard.

“Well, Lady Arend, you make a valid point,” Tyonis supplied, sighing. “But let me remind you that one of the most important rules of the Holy Grail War forbid combat during the day, correct? So naturally, night is the obvious and only choice. I merely restated that when I first proposed the setting. With the time being predetermined, and you deciding the range of our duel, it leaves me to choose the place as is my right. My demand still stands, will you meet me on that battlefield or won’t you?”

After watching the events play out, Tyonis now better understood Siyr’s personality. She was straightforward, but she knew how to hold back. So Tyonis had no choice but to let her jump into his next trap of her own accord. In a single breath, he took Siyr’s strongest points and redirected them back at her, using the “rules” of the Holy Grail War as his next weapon. The War’s rules and the Church Mediators were put in place to limit unnecessary causalities and prevent the possible exposure of Magecraft.

Many participants ignored such trivial limitations, but as a princess pretending to carry the burdens of honor and justice, could she simply ignore them? Or would she redefine her justifications once again?

So by removing "time" out of the equation, it left only two things to be settled on: "range" and "place." Tyonis knew he could twist Siyr's words by highlighting the fact that he could not actually change the time without breaking the rules and risking dozens of lives. Such a duel would be costly and dishonorable for both parties.

Tyonis threw a side-glance at Saber. This was one of the most pivotal points in their conversation. Siyr would now truly state what she thought about innocent bystanders as well as her opinion of the measures taken to protect them. If the Master answered carelessly, Tyonis wondered how the Servant Saber, the embodiment of zealous justice, would react. If Siyr continued to treat Tyonis as an inferior and refused to tread carefully around him, her next statement would undermine her authority as Saber's Master as well as trap her within Tyonis' conditions.

Tyonis' earlier attempt at manipulating the conversation could be called a "web of words" so this next one was naturally a "pitfall with spikes."

[Siyr Arend]

Ok. That was it. Still no name, it just kept grating on her. Was he really even a Magus? People were beginning to crowd around them. Didn’t they know their place? She was a noble, and they were peasants, meagre workers, and pretenders.

This entire conversation was stupid. Night was a long time, so time was still a factor. At least eight hours were covered in darkness, and as duellists they were supposed to venture together. Did he have any idea of the etiquette in duelling? Maybe that’s why he lost his service.

Well, she was done. This man was far too dense to talk to. And boring. Really, really boring. She would say one thing, an argument, and he would simply say no in a lot of words. Too much like her father for her liking. Never listening, just standing there, being a rock. A dumb, dense rock.

However how could she leave with her honour intact? Wait, the ronin still had not introduced himself, technically it wasn’t even a conversation, more like her talking to a brick.

A brick with a Servant.

Well whatever then. She could just get up and leave the messy haired ronin to talk circles around himself. The conversation was supposed to be quick, and without arguing. Arguing with a guy whose response could be boiled down to ‘No, I’m right’ became boring really fast. Especially when she was quoting the rules almost right from the book.

“Well, do not take this the wrong way, but this is not a conversation between civilized people. Not only that, but it isn't any fun~ I did not mock until you tried to go past your rights. Night time is still at least eight hours long, and I am not going to stand by this forest waiting for you for however long is necessary. The time of night is still a factor. However, talking with you has been unentertaining. Perhaps we should try again another time, when you are feeling civil enough to introduce yourself, and follow honour.” She stuck her tongue out at him, and then stood up, carefully returning her chair to the broken table.

She had not ordered anything, and the people staring at her and her knight was beginning to feel a little awkward. So, in all likelihood, she would meet this man again with the limited scale of the war. Perhaps he would be a little more civil next time, remembering the rules of engagement in a challenge.

“All the same, it is good to at least see someone else involved in this contest. I will depart wishing you luck in your future endeavours.” A traditional goodbye, he could not complain about that… but he probably would.

In fact… she was not sure at all of his honour at all. However she trusted her knight to keep her back safe as she curtsied, then pivoted and walked away, careful to keep the walk dignified and feminine, rather than betraying her frustration with the brick with which she had been talking.

“You know, I really don’t like him.”

[Tyonis Reybrant]

“Sir, are you okay?” Whispered one of the waitresses, approaching him from the side after Siyr left, hiding the bottom part of her face behind a metal tray. Tyonis turned to her with a slight smile.

“Yes, thank you for your concern. I apologize for the trouble. Please call off the authorities, it was a minor dispute between old friends.” The waitress stared at him incredulously. Tyonis came to a stand and rubbed his neck. “That man and I were members of a fencing school. He wanted to duel me for insulting his girlfriend. There was no real threat, I assure you.” Tyonis keeps his smile and hands the woman his check. In place of his name, there was a rune of memory alteration. The moment she glanced at it, her eyes dimmed and she nodded numbly.

“I will call off the authorities, Sir.” She states, her voice monotone.

“And please forget I was ever here.”

“Yes, Sir.”

By the time the woman regained her senses, Tyonis was gone. Leaving her pondering why one of her tables had such a large dent.

====

“That conversation took almost forty minutes of my life away,” Tyonis complained to the empty air – to Marian. “But at least we got something valuable out of it.” He closes his eyes, imagining Saber’s face. The Servant’s page appears clearly in his mind, revealing his Stats, Personal Skills, and his unnamed Noble Phantasm along with his face. Outbursting in a fit of blind rage was an ill-conceived move and now Saber paid for it. At the same time, Tyonis kept Archer invisible throughout the ordeal, and mindlessly refused to state his name, giving Siyr Arend nothing to show for her foolishness.

It took only a short analysis to figure Saber was far more formidable then he first thought. Even without a sacred sword, Saber’s Stats reflected his otherworldly superiority. It made Tyonis crack his neck, still feeling the lingering threat of death pressing on his throat. Still, he had come out fairly unharmed and far ahead of the competition. He had successfully pulled Siyr’s name, her Servant’s class and general capabilities, and paneled her psychology for future reference. Now he would research her history to get a better hold of her actual Magecraft. The Arends were Clocktower celebrities, and Tyonis was familiar with the Family’s specific branch of long range, artillery-type spells. Even now, he was at risk from being hit by one, which was why he stuck to the crowd, using them as human shields. But he doubted she would brazenly blast him with Magecraft even if he did not take such measures – what Siyr Arend wanted was a duel to display her and her Servant’s dominance, not a nameless, faceless deathmatch or creditless assassination.

With a casual glance behind him, Tyonis checks for stalkers of other kinds. No one – he lost the trailing spectators amidst the larger sea of people. Clear of any immediate threats, Tyonis addresses Marian once more.

“Sorry for putting you through that, Archer.” He knew of his Servant’s desire to protect him, and was willing to safe-guard his life despite knowing she would lose against Saber in that confined space. “But I should clarify our relationship now: if one of us has to die, it will be me. As an Archer with exceptional survivability, there is no need for you to blatantly lose your life in a futile battle for my sake. I said it when we first met, Archer. Prioritize your own survivability over mine. Put yourself first I will not hold it against you.”

Tyonis eyes an open food stand to his left and buys a fresh pastry along with a glass of goat’s milk, storing them delicately in a plastic bag.

“We still have several areas of the city to scout.” He began, moving past the morning confrontation. It was meaningless to dwell on Siyr Arend when there were more obvious threats to deal with. Realistically, all she had to her name was a very sharp sword. Even more pathetic, Arend had no idea what it meant to command and wield that sword. She was like a princess claiming leadership of a country without knowing how to rule.

At the rate Arend went, she’d die without any interference from him. It would be far more productive to occupy himself with people that were actually dangerous. “The business district of Lucca has many skyscrapers we can use as a high-rise. I want to test your eyesight.”

[Marian Fitzrobert]

“That was by far the most useless life-or-death situation I have ever been in.” Marian complained as she followed her master. Still, it had not been a complete waste of time. They had identified a master and her servant, and they’d done it without telling the enemy very much. Still, usually putting your neck on the line like that solved a problem.

“Sorry for putting you through that, Archer.” Marian turned to her master as he began to speak. “But I should clarify our relationship now: if one of us has to die, it will be me. As an Archer with exceptional survivability, there is no need for you to blatantly lose your life in a futile battle for my sake. I said it when we first met, Archer. Prioritize your own survivability over mine. Put yourself first I will not hold it against you.”

“Fair enough, but I guess the same thing could be said to you.” Marian was getting annoyed with her master’s bizarre fixation on his own death. “You are a master, and a warrior of great skill from what I’ve seen. There is no need for you to rush off to die valiantly.” She watched as he bought himself some sort of pastry before he got back to business, talking about some section of town.

“A High-rise, huh?” It would be nice to get an idea of where they would be fighting. “Very well. Lead the way my master. I am curious though, you seem to know more about me then I have told you. Does the grail give you information as well?”

[Tyonis Reybrant]

“If the Holy Grail would be so kind as to tell me everything about its contestants, I wouldn’t bother scouting the area,” Tyonis replied, with a jaded tone. “I researched your life and history on the internet earlier this morning.” He supplied, mundanely. It suddenly occurred to him that Marian would not know what the “internet” actually was. He smiled and expanded. “The internet is like a human-made Akasha. It’s a huge, intangible storage place of information. Within it lies everything you could want to know: simply ask, and it will reveal your deepest, darkest secrets. I looked up everything from your birthday, to the day you died, and even where your body is buried, if you ever want to visit. Assuming you survive, you should do so – very few people get to see their own grave.” He laughed slightly at the thought. “There’s also a very entertaining movie about your husband. I’ll show it to you one day. It involves a chastity belt and green tights.”

He left her to ponder his words. It was probably the first joke he had said since the pair met. He gave one last backward glance to double check for stalkers before boarding a crowded trolley to Lucca's famous business district. The day was still young, with plenty to do and see. Tyonis was sure had met one of the most powerful competitors of the War, inspite of her naivete, Siyr Arend was still a first-class Magus. He needed to devise countermeasures against Magi of her level.

[Short, funny, and final post]