towerofanimus | The Tale of Sir Lancelot

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The Tale of Sir Lancelot - part 1. Dolorous Guard

Characters: Sir Lancelot, aka the Servant Berserker, and All & Sundry
Setting: All Around the Tower
Format: Prose and Action are Both Welcome
Summary: Having just lately arrived, Sir Lancelot is in search of his Master
Warnings: No Warnings at Present. Unless you are a Monster, then look out.

Your world has been destroyed...

Lancelot, for he knows himself at the moment, is largely unmoved by the strange letters. He destroyed his own world long ago.

At the moment he is more concerned with his immediate surroundings, the mysterious clothing (and the collar) on his body, and the absence of his Master. His last memories before waking are of fire, of wind, and of thwarted rage. But he feels nothing now save a grim wariness. If this is indeed a Reality Marble, it is a mysterious one, and might contain anything. If an event caused by the Grail itself, then he can only meet what will come. If a device of his Master's-- Lancelot finds himself less than pleased with the idea.

Alone in the room where he has woken, he wastes no time in materializing his armor, and, as the situation seems an unusually urgent one, his sword. Both are as black as ever. His helm he leaves, as in carrying his blade he will be known regardless. He does not open the chest.

Reaching out to his Master, Lancelot is gratified to detect a faint pull. He will follow it, wherever it leads.

The Dormitory Hallways
Lancelot makes his way along the hallways nearby, but not limited to, 3-02. Any monsters he encounters, he will fight and slay. Any people he encounters, he will speak with.

The Cafeteria
Unable to pinpoint his Master's location, Lancelot proceeds to the bottom of the Tower. He is intrigued by the Cafeteria, and also by the idea of eating, which he has not done since he was living. He finds the idea of eating food in this place to be problematic, as he wonders if it might not be cursed or enchanted in some way. Being reared by Faeries will leave one with such ideas. Still, he's aware how important it can be to abide by the rules of magic in a possibly magical place. You'll find him stirring his oatmeal contemplatively.

Floor 10: The Aquarium
In the midst of continuing his search, Lancelot is distracted in the Aquarium. Water draws him like nothing else. He finds it calming, even now, in spite of his agitation at following his Master's poor prana signature. This water, obviously enchanted as it is not contained, is full of life. He shouldn't dally long here, but the sight is lovely, and it's difficult to resist stopping a moment.

Floor 25: The Meadow
This would indeed be an odd place for Lancelot to find his Master. Usually, the magus huddles unseen in dark corners, sewers, alleyways, and the like. He's searched in such places, and slain some few Monsters in the process, but has yet to find his Master. Still, there is a refreshing breeze here, and no obvious threat.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Kariya can feel his Servant's approach once he's near enough. They're connected, after all. He's almost afraid. No, he is afraid. He remembers what Berserker's like, and he knows Berserker can't be fond of him. The way they're always struggling against each other, Kariya wanting to go one way and Berserker another. What if the Command Spells can't protect him here?

But then he sees him, and he half forgets his fear in surprise. The Servant's helmet is off, and he's gazing down at him, his face a normal human face, and, if not untroubled, at least relatively calm. He has long, dark hair. There's intelligence in his gaze, and strength. So the Mad Enhancement isn't operative? That's a relief. No wonder the drain on him is so much less.

Master, Berserker calls him, and he's never heard him speak so clearly. Kariya feels uncomfortable under the weight of that stern gaze. Berserker, like this, is both familiar and unfamiliar.]

I– No, I haven't. I didn't bring us here. The administrators did. I didn't know you were going to come.

[Maybe not the clearest answer, but his thinking isn't at its clearest.]

We're prisoners here. Trapped. I don't want to be here.

[This much has not changed, his Master still frustrates him. Though at the moment, seeing that the man isn't in immediate danger of death, seeing the Command Seals still complete on his hand, it's properly anger that he feels-- not Berserker's Enhanced rage, but hardly simple frustration, either.]

Why would I not come? I am bound to you, and you to me-- and if you are a prisoner, then I must be also. I have little choice in the matter.
Just as when you spend yourself selfishly, I must suffer a loss for our cause. I thought you nearly dead.

[He pauses before replying. It's true that ordinarily, what Berserker says would be correct, but that hasn't been the case.]

I've been here for a while without you. Months.

[He's gone without any real drain on his prana for that long, except for the few times he's used the Blade Wing Worms.

He doesn't know what Berserker's talking about. He's still somewhat overwhelmed by the man's presence, even though his current appearance is less alarming than the incoherent, raving knight with a helm. He doesn't seem like he's going to hurt him, but Kariya isn't unaware of his anger. It makes him hesitate again.]

Spend myself? I don't know what you mean. I've done everything I can to win. We're going to win.

[He's still certain of that. It's true he was in a bad state, before, but nearly dead?]

[Lancelot's tone is as dry as old bones, his anger still hot beneath the words.]
That is a gratifying thing to hear indeed, Master.

Months.

This place is truly enchanted then. For I have only lately been in Battle, against Archer (Arthur...) -- and you say you know nothing of this. I tell you that you quit the field, to pursue another Master. What happened to you I cannot say, but I came to this place on the edge of defeat. I had not enough of you to sustain me.

[Lancelot reaches out, gripping Kayria's jaw in his fingers. His grip is surprisingly light, for all his gauntleted hand looks heavy. He turns his Master's face toward his, seeming to take his measure. The measure is obviously short.]

You seem somewhat less sickly. [He releases Karyia's face, mailed fingers clicking.]
As I said, you spend yourself too freely in taking selfish, foolish risks. Desperation is the mark of a weak man.

[Kariya is still highly conscious of that anger. But he is Berserker's Master. He can control him, can't he? He shouldn't be afraid.]

I don't know if it's enchantment, and I don't know how it happens, but people come here from different times. Different universes. You're... different.

[Kariya hadn't ever thought to see Berserker's true shape. Kariya had always kept him dematerialized, when he wasn't fighting as Berserker. It was much less of a strain to maintain him that way.]

The last thing I remember was fighting Caster's monster. In the dark. Then I took Rin back to her mother. I don't remember anything happening like you're saying.

[Saber had said that he'd kidnapped Irisviel, also, but he hadn't remembered that either. Are those things really going to happen? No, it can't be. He can't die. He can't fail.

Kariya remains still and pliable as Berserker handles his face, though his heart is pounding in his chest. The metal feels cool against his skin.]

There are healers here. And I don't have to expend so much energy.

[That last statement seems like something Zouken (or maybe that dark Saber) would say to him. In spite of the fact that he's intimidated, he feels a surge of defiance and insists:]

I'm not weak. I can't die yet. I won't. I'll do what I have to do.

[It would give him satisfaction to hear his Master's determination, but that the man is such a fool. The hand he has taken away from his Master's face closes into a fist.]

It is I who will do what you have to do, Master. Whatever I am, however I am made to be, I will Serve and Prevail for you, as I am bound.

Though you are truly as weak in mind as you are in body if you think that your will alone will serve to bring about what you desire, will serve to prop up your flesh. You risk too much and unwisely, you misuse me. Master.

[It's not the rage of the Berserker that he feels, but it is hot anger nonetheless. He feels the urge to take the Magus by the throat and throttle him. As it is, only his voice roughens and his eyes darken.]

[Berserker's words sting. What right does the man have to talk to him like that? He's done nothing but try his hardest to save Sakura. Berserker isn't the only one capable of anger, and Kariya is surprised to find his own welling up inside him in response. What right does the Servant have to talk to him like that? His anger overwhelms his fear, if only temporarily.]

I don't expect you to understand. This is my battle.

[He realizes he's referring to the war as if it's ongoing, which it isn't, here.]

It was my battle. And it will be. You're right, you'll serve me. You're just a tool for me to use. I'll do whatever I can to win the war.

[It feels wrong, to say it, and he knows that Servants are more than tools. He's friends with Diarmuid and Lancer. But the words, spoken on impulse, spill from his mouth regardless. He's done all this for Sakura, and it isn't fair for someone to say that he's weak, to insult him that way. Weak in mind and body... it's like something Zouken would say.]

[Can there be as little human feeling in Kariya as in Her-- no, this Master's care is for a Life, not a Kingdom. Yet still it burns, pains him like an ill-healed, poisoned wound. When he speaks again, his voice is low, but his eyes no less intense. He still kneels beside his Master among the flowers.]

You do not understand, Master.
Your Battle is mine, but I serve you poorly if you will not use me properly. I cannot serve you well if you waste your energy elsewhere when I fight as you bid me.
I cannot serve you so well as I would if I had my reason, as I do now.

Yes, you will have your victory, but I judge it will cost you your life if you win it by these foolhardy means.

[Being near the man makes him breathe harder, filling him with nervous energy. He seems so much more real like this, and it's confusing. He never knew Berserker harbored these thoughts, because he's never spoken to him. Moreover, he doesn't understand what Berserker's talking about.]

I haven't done that. I didn't waste any energy. I've given it all to maintain you. You were the one who wouldn't do as I said. You had to fight Saber. You were fighting against me.

[Even now, there's blood on his lips.]

I'm going to die, no matter what. I might as well die doing some good.

[There's bitterness in his tone. It's not like he's been able to do much good in his life so far.]

[At the mention of Arthur, he passes a gauntleted hand over his brow. Anger makes him feel unwell. Perhaps this is an after-effect of the Enhancement. Perhaps he is merely tired. In this place, it seems possible that he could tire.]

If I have disobeyed you, if I have drained you, you have only to reproach yourself. Were I in my right mind, I would do as you commanded, no matter how foolhardy your commands might be, and I would not so drain you in doing so.

How can you think that by allowing a more powerful Magus to slaughter you, you will be doing some good in the world? You are a mystery and a frustration.

It wasn't my idea. It wasn't my fault– No, I did do it, but only because I was told to. It was part of the deal. He said I wouldn't be strong enough otherwise. Or maybe he wanted to make things harder on me.

[Or both. It was hard to tell, where Zouken was concerned. Kariya referred to that he as if Berserker would know who he was talking about.]

A more powerful Magus? I don't... [Slaughtered?] Have I died, in the time you're from?

[He's already used to people from different times and different universes, so the question doesn't feel as odd to say as it might otherwise. But he's sure this Berserker must be from his universe. After all, he can feel their contract. So if this Berserker says he's dead...]

I don't know what you mean, but I can't die, not before it's over. I'm not trying to be mysterious or frustrating. I'm just trying to win.

No, you have not died, for you are here. I had expected to find you near death, it is true-- for you were so drained that you could not sustain me. I do not recall anything of your injuries save a sense of fire-- I myself was beset on both sides, but near victory.

But these words have no meaning for you, and so it must be as you say, that you and I have come to this place from different moments in the War.

[Lancelot seems lost in his own thoughts for a long moment, his eyes faraway, as if struggling to recall a memory. When he does look back to his Master, it is with slightly narrowed eyes. His manner is still dark, though not as overtly angry.]

Who was it, Master, who told you to do this thing? What deal can you have struck, apart from our contract?

[He lets out a sigh of relief. Not dead. Then there's still hope. He may have been drained of energy, but as long as he was alive, he wouldn't give up.

Fire? He doesn't like fire. And a more powerful magus... does that mean Tokiomi?]

I won't let him defeat me. I don't know what happened, but I do want him dead. He should die. But I want you to win. Why wouldn't I?

[As for Lancelot's other question...]

The head of my family. He's the one I struck a bargain with. He'd let me do what I needed to fight in the war, as long as I did what he said and–

[He breaks off, hesitant, but Berserker is his Servant. He's said he'll obey him, even here, and surely he can tell him this?]

–brought the Grail to him.

[Oh, his Master is truly a fool. A wave of incredulous anger rises within him. The other Magus is forgotten by him for the moment.]

So you yourself are a servant, for you serve a master of your own. With whom you have struck some sort of fool's bargain, wagering both your pitiful fate and what remains of my honor-- and you must surrender our prize? For what reason would you do such a thing-- what is it I fight for, if not your wish upon the Grail?

You say you wish me to win, but see how I am hobbled by your ill-made choices! When we return you must remove the spell, the Enhancement-- give me my reason at least. The spell is no refuge to me any longer.

[The increase in anger makes him shrink back, but what Lancelot questions, his reason, is one of the few things he has to cling to, both here and at home. So he doesn't hesitate to defend it.]

I had no choice.

[No, that wasn't true, he had had a choice, but it wasn't one worth speaking of. How could he have lived with himself if he hadn't done all he could for Sakura? He couldn't have.]

There's a girl--a little girl named Sakura. She's in terrible pain, and all I want is for her to be free. He has control over her. He's hurting her, and he won't let her go back to her mother and sister, not even to visit... [He makes a gesture with his hands, the gesture meant to indicate all this that he's done: his body, his condition, Berserker, everything.] This is the only way I can get him to let her go. So she can be happy again. That's all I want.

[It's enough of a goal for him, so it should be enough of a goal for his Servant. Even if he feels rather intimidated by said Servant in the current moment.]

That's what you're fighting for. And I won't stop until I've saved her.

If I could take the spell off you, I would. I don't know how! I don't know magecraft. I'm not a real magus. [His voice breaks.] I'm just... [He trails off. He doesn't know what he is anymore.]

If save for my strength, you are nearly powerless-- I believe you must be as mad as I.

[It's nearly enough to make him recoil. What has he come into? Must his every moment be one of horror and dishonor? For all he has seen and heard and done, he is shaken by this news-- all of it. It shows plain on his face, for he does not guard it.]
You-- and you will give the Grail to a man who has done such a thing, wrought such reckless horror? What do you imagine he will wish upon it?

Would it not be better to wish his death? That you and the girl might be free?

I'm not powerless. [He has some ability, however strange and unreliable it may be.]

I know already what he'll wish for. He wants to be immortal.

[That's all Zouken cares about, extending himself and his influence. His power.]

I don't care about the Grail. I don't care about my wish.

[He speaks unthinkingly (which isn't unusual). These are dangerous words to say to a Servant. Also, he usually would deny he has any wish at all, but in the heat of the moment, he doesn't think to do so.]

I care about Sakura. Yes, I wish he were dead. But he has power... I don't know what he might do. And I made a promise. It was the only way he'd let me enter the War. I'm trying to do my best.

[Unlike Zouken, Kariya still thinks promises mean something. Or maybe he's past believing there's any way for him to escape his fate. He doesn't know what will happen when he wins the Grail. Even though he has to win, he can't think that far ahead.]

Maybe you're right, but I– [He's going to explain further, but a fit of coughing interrupts him, and more blood rises to his lips.]

Enough.
You cannot hope to prevail in this or any other world if you succumb to your curse.

Nor are you bound by a promise made to one who has no honor-- but we will speak of this another time, and at greater length.

[With that, it's no effort at all for Lancelot to bend a little, to lift Kariya into his arms, settling the man's slight weight across his chest. He stands, taking in the empty meadow, before looking down into his Master's pale, tortured face. Before the man's revelation, he had been more sure of his opinion of his Master-- now he finds himself unsure, though still angry.]

Tell me where to find your rooms, Master, and I will bear you there.

[He manages to recover and stop coughing, though his mouth and chin are still bloody.]

I'm only doing what I have to do. I don't know if I believe in Zouken or the Grail. No, I know I can't trust Zouken. But this was my only option. The only way I could hope to do anything for her. If I didn't, how could I live with myself?

[He wasn't sure what he was expecting Berserker to do next, but it wasn't picking him up. He is too startled to struggle, though he does squirm in surprise. His eyes widen, but then he lies still in the man's arms. Berserker looks into his eyes, and he doesn't look away.]

Berserker... You don't have to carry me.

[He's weak, and he can't move fast or too far, but being carried (again) strikes him as something of an indignity.]

[The man meets his eyes, and that is an improvement. He firms his arms beneath his Master. It occurs to him suddenly, that with all the man has told him of his summoning, one thing is painfully clear. His Master does not know his right name. He nods, holding the man's gaze, the scent of blood strong in his nose.]

I will bear you to your room. There is no shame in it.

Whatever else may be, Master, you should have the choice to call me by my right name.
I am Sir Lancelot, Knight of the Lake.

But I don't need that.

[He can still walk, if not very well. It's not that he's never been carried like this before. Lancer had done the same thing when he'd become incapacitated at the Christmas party. He can still walk, but he doesn't struggle.

He forgets his protests altogether in the wake of Berserker's announcement. He hadn't known who his Servant was, and he wasn't expecting this news.]

Lancelot? You're... Lancelot? But I-

[What can he say? He hadn't expected to have summoned such a famous Heroic Spirit. He feels odd. It's one thing to know that you've summoned a Heroic Spirit, and another to know the stories about them, to know what they were like. To know that you're controlling them, somehow, even if it should be the other way around. He's really nothing compared to Lancelot, where power is concerned, and he feels even weaker, being carried in his arms. Carried by Lancelot, the famous knight.]

I didn't know that, Lancelot.

[A pause. He looks away.]

I wouldn't have summoned you as Berserker, if I had a choice.

Though perhaps my Summoning is not so unsuitable as you think, yes-- I am Lancelot.

[Somehow, it lessens his anger, increases his tolerance of the man, for Kariya to call him by his name. He sets off across the meadow towards the exit, his step smooth, his Master a light weight to carry.]

I had not known my name was strange to you until you told me of my Summoning. What type would you have chosen then, Master, if you had your own way?

It's not?

Lancelot... [He thinks this over. One of Arthur's knights, perhaps the greatest knight. And his story is so sad. Kariya's not quite sure what to say. Lancelot must know that he knows.]

I know you.

I would have chosen Saber. Saber is supposed to be the strongest Servant, isn't it? Except for Berserker, but that's different.

Yes. A very different kind of strength, indeed has Berserker from Saber.

[He makes his way easily down the path to the doorway and into the hallways beyond. Having no desire to draw monsters or beasts with the scent of his Master's blood, or to set the man down to slay such things, Lancelot draws his veil about himself and his Master. It will serve enough to obscure them until they arrive in the upper halls of the Dormitory.]

If you know me, know of me, then you know that a such a Summoning-- [He trails off, then resumes a different thought.] Saber is the first of Knights. A towering height from which to fall, should the Servant fail.

It is. I think I could have summoned Saber.

[For all that Zouken doesn't believe in him, he has a stubborn, almost pigheaded belief in himself, at the same time as he looks down on himself for his faults and his mistakes.]

I know that you're powerful. That's what I wanted. Someone powerful. You wouldn't, you won't fail, if you're my Servant. There's just no way... I won't allow it. For Sakura's sake.

You could be the first of knights, couldn't you?

The Tale of Sir Lancelot - part 1. Dolorous Guard

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