[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/ZG8pths.png[/img]
[b][The Ottoman Empire Team][/b] - [i]At the Church[/i][/center]

By the time the group had disbanded, all going to their own rooms, Aksha had retreated to the observation room. The strange little area, out of place amongst the older trappings of the church. He found that large groups didn't interest him. Rather, he found a certain enlightenment in a kind of open area, where others would visit of their own accord. The observatory, built by the quick hands of a servant, was rather spacious, and empty. A few projects lay around, clearly hinting at what the Archer servant was plotting for the war to come. The base designs for a large cannon like system were visible to Caster, if she could decipher them or cared to look at them in any length. 

The rest of the room was lightly furnished. Most of it was pillows, or the odd trinket that may be hundreds of years old. Most of it was clearly personal, or carried from the owner's homeland. But the real treasure seemed to be a collection of texts. The wear on them seemed to make them as nearly a decade old, but it was clear they were much older. [b]Much older.[/b] Clearly to be even that degraded was a miracle in itself. There, Aksha took a seat on a pile of pillows, almost like an old man would. 

He didn't even blink when Caster appeared in the room. But then again, it was impossible to tell behind that mask. He could have been shocked and it would be completely hidden. 
[color=f7941d]"Greetings, Caster. I thank you for coming."[/color] Aksha said, leaning forward, and pulling a book from the shelf he had placed himself besides. [color=f7941d]"My name, is Akshamsaddin, and I suspect you may know that name."[/color] He was aware, that while not much of a hero, the true Akshamsaddin had passed away centuries ago, and had found himself on the throne of heroes. Instead, the man who claimed to be Akshamsaddin was more or less a robot. A program carried through bacteria and viruses that took over the bodies of others. Acting as a pseudo immortality, of a sort. It would only take a moment for Caster to peer into the throne to know exactly who he was. 
[color=f7941d]"I have lived many years, seeking knowledge and hoping to gain a greater understanding of the world. I am curious about the land you are from. Not in an attempt to use your identity against you, but rather... To ask for your help."[/color] He placed the book down, and it was a journal entry, the text facing Caster. The text was dated to nearly two hundred years ago, when he had come to a conclusion. [color=f7941d]"You see, I have reached a stone in my path of understanding. I have expanded my knowledge in no way that aids me. If you are a hero of the age of gods, then you know magic and spellcraft that I have never seen, or imagined. As such, I request, no, I plead, that you take me under your wing. As a student."[/color]
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Archer gazed over the distance, eyeing the little rodent that Caster sent into the woods. Nothing could escape his vision. And he had a suspicion that only time would tell the true meaning of this war. He felt Rider's presence rather easily, but didn't bother turning. They were clearly on the same side. 

[color=ed1c24]"My opinion on the war?"[/color] He mused, scratching his chin. Fingers brushed through his goatee. [color=ed1c24]"You won't like it. But I suspect betrayal. The church seems controlling, wouldn't you say? A full ban on the third floor. If it was personal, they had more than enough time to ship it to a different location. After all, if the war comes to the church, it would risk destruction if it was something of historical necessity, or divine artifact."[/color] Slowly, he stood. [color=ed1c24]"Rider, you are a leader in war, are you not? Most Riders are. You see, I suspect the church wasn't just chosen because of a convenience. There is more to this war. I can tell. Be ready for it."[/color]