[center][img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/271031448755109888/452429537993818112/AchBanner.png[/img]
[h2]’Lancer Prime’[/h2]
[h3][i]Construction Project ‘Tarantasio’, “Temporary Room”, Foreigner’s Lowlands[/i][/h3][/center]

“Who can say?” He shrugged, staring out from his spot near the window toward the flattened plains surrounding the site. Between his actions and those of whoever had let that storm loose, they had all but demolished and wiped away everything that once stood in the area. “We were just doing our part to deal with that debacle, Master. If someone else considers us responsible for it and holds Ruler’s declaration as applicable, it is their choice to come and fall.”

Absolute, unshakable confidence in his own victory, just like always. In a way, one supposed it should be expected, considering who Lancer Prime was.

“I expect some will even band together. Last night’s display was not really subtle. . .Though I suppose it doesn’t really matter. If it comes down to it, at least we can win quicker if we crush them all at once.”

His expression shifted to a thoughtful one as he considered their next move, only listening to that which had entered the room with half a mind at best — he had no words to spare for it, and his Master was the one that was being questioned. 

Not to mention, he had never been one for architecture. Ask him to lug things around, he could do it, but he had no interest in their planning for the moment. Certainly, having a camp to return to was important, but at the same time he disliked the idea of just waiting for people to come to him.

The simple truth of the matter was that did not really enjoy defensive tactics — it required patience he did not have, and he preferred to be on the offensive whenever possible. So.

“I figure you can deal with this place on your own for the moment, and if you need me I’m only a step away to begin with,” He grinned at Benita. “So, we can see about those Command Mantra or at least keep them out of the hands of others — whichever seems more appropriate.”

After all, those things were trump cards in this battlefield of heroes, so denying the enemy the possibility of acquiring them was, at least, a sound move. However, he did not have much in the way of leads, so he would have to do this the old-fashioned way.

Running around until he found someone to beat up. It brought back memories.

“Anyway, I’ll leave you two to hold the fort here while I go have some fu— err, scout. Yeah, yeah. . .”

And then, he jumped out and began his dash. His earlier boast of ‘I am only one step away’ might have seemed excessive even for a Lancer, but it was something that held true for him nonetheless — he possessed the divine speed of a hero hailed as ‘the fastest’, so even the greatest obstacles in this place might as well have been pebbles beneath his feet for all they mattered.

So, he set out in a run toward Shinto, any arguments his Master might have had summarily ignored. He had been obedient from the start, but it was time for him to do as he liked for a bit.

Now, then, he needed information. And, if he remembered correctly, he’d been told that information was most readily available in bars.

Perhaps he’d find something interesting in that pub his Master had spent the previous night at. In fact, he was even rather curious about it, considering the name, so his course was set..

The plains, the river, then the intact buildings on the other side, all blurred around him as the swift-footed Lancer sped toward his destination, like a comet.

But then, suddenly.

The comet ground to a complete halt.

[center][h2][i]Edge of Shinto Town, looking at Pelion’s Pub and.  .  .[/i][/h2][/center]

Those walls.

Those walls. Those walls, those walls, those [i]fucking[/i] walls.

His teeth were bared in an expression completely divorced from his earlier, cocksure façade. His raptor’s eyes stared at the fortress before him as a surge of absolute loathing shot through his veins. For a single instant, the hero named Achilles was no longer within the confines of this island in the far east — but rather, standing with the sea at his back in the bloodstained sands of [i]those[/i] beaches, looking at that same city, with [i]that man[/i] standing on the walls, directing the troops.

It bubbled from within him, a fire lit in his chest and spreading throughout his body, spilling forth from his lips as a — 

[center][h2][b]“▂▂▃▃▅▅▅▅ —  — ! !”[/b][/h2][/center]

It could not be called a cry.

It could not be called a scream.

It was a guttural, savage sound no man should make. The howl of a beast that would drive carrion birds away from a battlefield full of corpses, the roar that would crush the spirits of lesser men and make even the most elite of armies falter and tremble with fear.

The rage-filled snarl of Achilles as he once again witnessed those walls. There was no trying to make sense of it — but at the same time, his thoughts about the situation should be obvious.

There was a lull of silence after that — perhaps the calm following an unforgiving storm. If animals had been nearby before, they all had surely fled or been terrified into silence. However, it was not to last, for he broke it moments after.

This time, however, it was not a roar that spilled forth from his throat, but rather, a word. 

A name.

And, in spite of that, the sound was perhaps even more terrible than that which had come prior as the greatest hero of the Trojan War spat it out.

[center][h2][b]“HECTOR!”[/b][/h2][/center]