[center][h1][b]-Day 0-[/b][/h1]

[h3]The Deacon Arms Tavern[/h3]

[img]https://www.heathmounthotel.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/06/Hotel.jpg[/img]

[h3]-11:37 PM September 23rd, 2017[/h3][/center]

[hr]

Albert jumped as Assassin appeared behind him without so much as a hint of warning. No, scratch that. After the events of this evening, he practically [i]leaped[/i], letting out a tiny, adorable 'yelp' as his heart rate shot to nearly 300 bpm. For the love of...

"Assassin!" the frightened little mouse squeaked, exhaling. "Oh zank god. I... I-I wasn't expecting you to manifest physically. At least not 'ere..."

Realizing how pathetic his reaction made him look, Albert's face turned bright red. Damn it all to hell, he [i]hated[/i] being jump-scared! That's what he got for summoning Assassin...

The young French Master coughed and sighed, letting his guard down once again. 

"I appreciate your timeliness in coming to my side, but from now on, can you [i]not[/i] just sneak up on me like zat? Assassin's job is to spook ze enemy, not zeir own Master. I'd prefer it if you'd refrain from giving me any more reasons to be paranoid zan I already 'ave. Anyway, on to ze matters at 'and I suppose..." 

Albert glanced at the bath he'd started to run, then back at Assassin. Should he...?

"You are Roman, correct?" he asked more as a courtesy than anything else. "Zen you wouldn't mind if I continued wiz my bath? I'm rather short on time and money at ze moment, and ze owner of zis... 'establishment' charges for use of ze 'ot water."

He scowled, as if cursing the man's very name. Luck o' the Irish... bah.

Slipping a towel around his waist for his Servant's sake and his own, Albert unbuckled his belt and let his ripped-up pants fall to the floor beneath him. Being careful not to lose grip of his curtain of modesty, Albert slid into the bubbly tub of hot water, immediately relaxing as he submerged himself in the cleansing broth. He sighed with relief, muscles unclenching. What a long day it had been. He really needed this right now... after...

Every time he shut his eyes, he could see them. Hear their screams in the dark. The comrades they'd lost today were gone forever. The friends they'd sacrificed like sheep to the slaughter washed their hands with blood. Their phantom pain seemed to linger in the air around him like a miasma. Like a stain that could never be washed out. A bright red, ugly thing. Just like the pen Ayondale used to score papers. Ayondale...

After remaining quiet for a short minute, Albert opened his eyes, ready to be done with the thoughts inside his head. He was tired. He had to speak to his Servant. Before the pain and exhaustion took him.

So he explained the Holy Grail War to her. He told her everything, about himself, about Ayondale, about his fellow students and the attack that had claimed so many lives. It all just came spilling out. Assassin needed to understand, but more than that, Albert just needed to [i]talk[/i].

But finally, they came to the difficult question. The bathwater was beginning to grow lukewarm, the islands of bubbles shrinking into a nearly flat and placid surface.  It was now or never. He had to know before they could proceed any farther in this relationship.

"Assassin," he said, not really looking at her and hoping she wasn't really looking at him, "I have somezing important I need to ask you. Now, zere really isn't any easy or polite way to say zis, but... I don't zink you're ze Servant I meant to summon. Zat cape I used for ze catalyst... it belonged to Emperor Claudius, of ze Julio-Claudian dynasty of ze early Roman Empire. AD 41 to 54."

Albert slid further into the tub, keeping his chin just barely above the water-line. Underneath the sudsy surface, his hands were fidgeting.

"Now unless ze 'istory books 'ave been severely misinformed as to ze genders of famous Roman emperors, I can only assume zat you are not ze man I meant to call forth from ze Throne. You are not a [i]man[/i] after all. Zerefore, I can only assume zat you must be one of ze many women in Emperor Claudius' life. Ze Grail does not make mistakes after all, and ze man 'ad quite a sordid 'istory wiz members of ze opposite sex. More's ze pity for 'im..."

A couple of the bigger bubbles popped. Albert smiled weakly, trying to hide his anxiety. This conversation would have been much easier if he wasn't technically naked.

"So... who is it? Who are you, really?" he asked nervously. "Are you perhaps Agrippina, his last wife? She is said to 'ave poisoned 'im to get Nero on ze throne. Is zat why you were summoned as Assassin? Zis is not to judge you or anyzing, I would just like to know ze truth about who I am supposed to be working wiz."

He tried to keep his tone calm, level, and conversational, but truth be told he was rather frightened. He imagined there wouldn't be many Servants who'd be happy to hear they'd been summoned by accident, and the last thing he needed was to have a bad relationship with the woman who'd poisoned her own husband just so her son could take the throne. If a spouse was no big deal, what might stop her from offing her Master if she felt she wasn't getting the respect she deserved? Assassins could be an unpredictable lot once you began to deviate from the adherents of the first true order of [i]hashashins...[/i]