shifted_logs | The Tenth Match

Entry tags:

The Tenth Match

Characters: Caster, Jackie, Spectators
Location: The Coliseum.
Time: Two days after the last fights.
Summary: The tenth of the death matches.
Warnings: Character death warning.

“Do you have any sevens?” asked the king over a hand of cards.

“Go fish,” said the liar.

The king drew the last card from the pile between them, then put his hand away. The two players glanced over their own set of books, and then their opponent's. Weber nodded and got to his feet.

“Caster. Mr Estacado. Old legends live in you both, we know. And both of you hold great power for your stories. Regardless of what happens next, may your stories continue long into the future.”

Weber returned to his seat, and the king pulled out a board for backgammon.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Caster didn't need to do much to prepare for her match. Her opponent was not a Servant--her victory was assured in that alone. But she had underestimated the magus girl and it had cost her dearly, so she had prepared in the only way she could. To all eyes, she disappeared. It was a unique talent of Servants that maintaining a physical body was something they had to consciously want, so it took energy. So as nothing more than energy, a spirit, Caster was storing and conserving the valuable, limited prana she would need to assure a quick victory.

So at first, it seemed that Caster did not appear in the arena, but she suddenly came into view, cloaked and hidden as always. And as she glanced at her opponent, she was suddenly glad that she had been cautious.

It was powerful. It was not Angra Mainyu, but it was so similar that it sent chills down her spine. She would not get close enough to sever that bond, so she only hoped that she would receive her victory quickly.

"My, please don't hold this against me, dear," she said, and the corners of her cloak flew out, and Caster took to the air, staff in hand.

Rider had suspected as soon as he had been able to come to the Plane that other Servants would follow. He had little in terms of magical sensitivity since he had none when he was alive, but as soon as Caster let down her shields, he felt the outpouring of energy. Rider went to the stadium expecting to see his Caster, but it was a cloaked woman. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully--it was certainly a Servant, and it could only be a Caster, but he did not know her.

But it mattered little. Rider did not sit to watch the spectacle. He had little interest in it. He had known of the matches and listened carefully for familiar names, but none had come up. He had no taste for bloodshed outside of war.

Now that he was here, though, it was his duty as King to confront the ones who oversaw these matches. He did not think they could be stopped (it was as pointless as trying to stop the Grail Wars), but he would at least talk.

So he approached the box and knocked.

When Rider came near, Weber leaned forwards, his eyebrows lifting, a grin spreading on his lips. The king put the blade of his sword at Weber's throat. They exchanged a look - the liar half-laughing, the king cutting through a single fold of the cravat - and then, with a sigh of melodrama, Weber gave up and obediently leaned back into his seat. "You didn't have to ruin my cravat over it."

"I know you of old."

"And I always end with a jade's trick?"

"Jade, no, but onyx draws you in."

"As venom is drawn from a bite, my liege. Your words are not so well-gilded that I cannot see your poison."

"And your tongue is not so silver as to hide your mongrel bark. But my liar, speak more in riddles. You have a guest."

The liar's attention was quickly back to Rider. He pushed the king's weapon away, then stood and bowed. When he spoke, it was in Ancient Macedonian. "King Alexander. It is an honour."

He had not expected to be greeted in his own tongue, so a grin spread quickly across Rider's face. He did not shake hands, merely placed a large hand on Weber's shoulder with a loud and large clap.

"Hou, and what an honor it is to hear my own language," Rider said jovially in return, "But please, do not bow! We speak as equals here, for even I admit that my reign has long since lost its power."

But the mantle trimmed in fur and his large, bulky build didn't match his words. He was power incarnate, and just as much as the Servant in the arena, the magical energy rolled off of him in waves, since he was not at all skilled at hiding his presence as a magical being. Rider did offer a hand to the king as he withdrew from Weber's side, recognizing him as royalty cut from a similar cloth.

"And an honor to stand in the presence of another king, if I am not mistaken. At least one of royal blood. Your friend is correct, though I should introduce myself all the same. I am Alexander III of Macedon, Alexander the Great. And I thank you for allowing me in to speak! I hope that we need not raise weapons against each other, my friend!"

He nodded to the sword.

To Weber's credit, he only buckled a little bit under Rider's clap. He did start rubbing his shoulder the second the hand was taken away. "I'm honoured, your Majesty. What a strength of honour you show."

The king stood as well, taking the offered hand. He had already put away his sword. Apparently, the king liked Alexander as much as the liar seemed to. "My reign is as long past as your own. My name and that of my home died together a thousand and one worlds away. This loss halts my tongue from speaking either." He indicated the seat to the right of his throne. "Sit, if it pleases you, and we may speak more at ease."

Rider shook his hand tightly, a grin still on his face. If he had known the king better, he would have stepped forward to similarly clap him on the shoulder and half-embrace him as a sign of good will. But thinking better of it, he took his seat.

"Ahh, and what a shame that is! I pray for your home, long past as it may be. Though I have my name, what shall I call you, fellow king? We speak as equals here!"

He leaned forward casually, watching the match with rather detached interest. "Though, my friend, I imagine I am not the first to come speak with you about the matches you watch over. I have not come to one before, since I respect the right of combat and how it should not be interrupted, but the woman there, she has drawn me out of interest. She and I, we are pledged to a life of combat never-ending, but what of the others? Though death is not permanent here, there is no sport in watching those unskilled in battle die."

"Call him 'Shahryar,'" said Weber before the king could answer. There was a moment's pause as the king raised an eyebrow and question and the liar smiled in reply, but then the king nodded his assent.

"As good a name as any and an echo of the truth. As for these matches, I agree. There is little sport or honour in the combat we observe."

"Honestly," said the liar, "I don't know why the matches were insisted upon. It's an idle cruelty that serves no purpose but to sate someone's sadism."

"Shahryar it is! Thank you for your hospitality, to both of you," he said at first politely. But their words were interesting, so he rubbed his chin lightly.

"Hou, is that so? You only oversee these matches, but do not start them? How interesting indeed! I am reminded of my own predicament with the War. Ahh, but that is not what we speak of, so we can talk of that another day. Instead, are you allowed to tell me of that someone?"

"Telling you his name would be against the rules. But there is room for riddles and for hints towards the truth." Half-truths and guessing games were the liar's speciality, so he leaned around his king to look at Rider. "Ask away, King Alexander."

"Ah, but I confess, riddles are not me forte! The Gordian Knot should tell you that. Men are split on whether it was a fair solution or not," he said jovially and leaned back in his chair. He crossed his arms and considered what he could ask, but went for the direct approach.

"The purpose of these matches, then? Are you allowed to say that?"

"That one's easy," said the liar with a smile. "It's all for the blood."

The former sentences had been delivered in Macedonian, but the liar rapidly switched back to his own king's language as he addressed him. "My liege, you're going to get terribly dull while I play this game. A present from Famine." He presented his king with a small tin box.

The king took the box and opened it. It was filled with chocolate cookies. Apparently completely satisfied by this offer, the liar's king shifted in his throne, that Weber and the Macedonian king might better continue their conversation.

Rider didn't try and hide his amusement at the cookies, grinning wide and addressing the king. "Now I feel as if I should have brought a gift! I have none to share, since I have no worldly possessions for now, but consider this my good faith."

But with a nod to the king, he turned his attention back to Weber. He was not the most clever king to walk the desert sands of Persia, but Alexander had his metis.

"The blood, you say? What good is our blood? I should hope that a magic ritual isn't be conducted with it, since that does not bode well for the Servants on the Plane."

"Oh, these aren't from me," assured the liar. "It's the offering of a shared acquaintance."

The king said, "The Machine we are in thirsts for blood. Or perhaps it craves people, and the blood is merely a sign of its consumption. This is no game of magic, but rather science wrapped in the trappings of religion. We are not of the Machine, so we are free of its hold but ignorant of some of its workings."

"The Machine itself? It's not what I expected to hear," he admitted. It seemed more likely to be the plan of a single person, rather than the machine itself. That, and the idea that it would be a machine's idea? Well, the ancient Macedonian thought it was surely impossible.

"Then the people that die here, under--" he paused to wave his hand at the arena dismissively. "--under normal circumstances, their blood goes to the machine? It would explain why nothing like this has occurred before, or at least as far as I know."

He sat back again, discontent by the idea. Science was foreign to him, and religion only a part of magic. He would have to ask Waver to help him with the idea.

As the king started enjoying his cookies, now only half-listening to the conversation, the liar carried on. "You'd have to ask the Twins about the exact process, but as you surely know yourself, a second chance of life does not come without some costs. Tell me, King Alexander: in your world, where do the spirits of men go when they die?"

"It depends on what sort of man you are. For normal men, I cannot say. It is the purpose of religion to decide what that may be. But for heroes, for great men and women, we are given a choice. Pledge our soul to protect the world, go to a timeless oblivion, and there you have the chance to be summoned to take another chance at seizing an artifact so great in its power that it can make even true miracles. You must take a leap of faith when you are asked, for the odds are against you. There are many hundreds of souls in the oblivion. And if you are summoned, you most fight as one of seven to attempt to seize it. Even then, the grail may not accept you. If the odds are too great for a logical mind, then you can refuse the offer and continue on to whatever may be waiting for a soul. We have no way of knowing," he said with a low chuckle.

He paused for a moment before continuing, "And that is why this place is especially odd for Servants. It is a place that should not exist, since it allows us to exist independently of our Masters. It should not be, but it is."

"It should not be, yes." The liar looked at him with some curiosity. "Are you happy for it?"

"In all honesty, I was happier for it when my Master was not here. Because he is a good young man, I should not wish this place and its problems on him," he said with a nod.

"No one could blame you for that," said the liar. "But for yourself?"

"For myself? Haha, for myself, it is brilliant!" he said joyfully enough that his loud, hearty laugh echoed against the box's walls.

"I hold no animosity for my Master, but freedom is not something Servants are given. To be able to do as I please without worry--it is extraordinary! I may as well be alive again!"

The liar smiled at how easy and fully Rider enjoyed his happiness. It was nice to see. He said, "I'm glad you can enjoy yourself here, then."

Rider smiled more easily, though his question was not as purely amiable. "And what of you, my friends? Do you enjoy yourselves here, or are you stuck as executioners?"

Weber lifted a hand to calm the king before he could respond with his anger at their situation. They couldn't afford a loss or a forfeit on this. The liar wore his well-kept smile easily and did not falter. "We are not overseeing fights like these all our time here, fortunately. And we have a few friends in these worlds that we like to drop in to see."

He noticed the hand with interest, but didn't mention it. Though he was not one for riddles and puzzles, he was excellent at reading people.

"I am glad for you, since this would be a pitiable existence on its own. Unless this is by your own choice, like my contract with the World?"

The liar tilted his head, considering how to answer that indirectly and honestly. "We have made a contract that we can no longer break."

The king completed the statement, expressing his distaste. "Were we able to break it, we would need not endure trials such as these."

"I am sorry that you must, friends! But if your contract were to be broken, what would happen? These games, they would stop?"

Breaking their contract didn't seem impossible--he had done more impressive feats before.

"We would have the freedom to stop them, yes." The liar smiled, inclining his head to Alexander. "But I fear not even you could cut through something so knotted as what holds us."

"Ahh, I am sorry, then! I would gladly try, especially if it would free my good people of the Plane of such sadness. Perhaps my Master would be able to help more than I--I will be the first to admit that my powers are physical and not useful for solving such contracts."

The liar just smiled. He had long ago given up on getting out of his contract. "Oh, don't worry about us. There are other ways to free the people of the Plane from what we're doing."

"Such as?" he asked. He didn't expect to receive a direct answer, but it was worth asking anyways.

Of course the liar couldn't answer directly. But he said the most helpful thing he could think of: "I would suggest having a word with the Doctor or Roxas, if you know either of them."

Rider laughed again. "I know of the Doctor! I believe I know of many of them! The man is quite common here, with different faces or the same, as I understand. You'll have to be more specific. But Roxas I do not know."

"One of the more obnoxious ones," said the king. Apparently, he felt no need to contribute to the conversation unless it was a character judgement.

The liar politely didn't comment on his king's judgement. "One of the tall ones with messy brown hair. Roxas is a young blond in... I don't even know what to call his taste of clothing. Still, if you write a letter to them in the post, they'll get it."

Rider laughed briefly at the king's comment, but immediately hushed himself as the liar began to talk again. He nodded, quite surprised that the postbox was functional. He had just assumed that someone had brought it from home and never taken it back.

"I see! I will have to attempt to use the post, then. All I have used of it is to order the videos and memorabilia related to wars--it's all quite interesting, you see! But thank you. I was wondering if I would receive a riddle for that as well!"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The Tenth Match

haha I love you farrah

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

I like how these tags are getting shorter and shorter i suck

NO I. Wait, that's not how it works.

no subject

no subject

no subject