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Stryder BCAsteriel and Saber in the Abandoned Workshop
Her Master’s mana was nothing to complain about. A staggering amount, perfectly suitable for fueling her in combat.
Her Master had been nothing but courteous towards her. There was no reason not to treat her in kind, and indeed on her honor it was improper to do otherwise.
—However.
She had developed a honed sense for those who could display recklessness, who would endanger themselves far too easily.
It was that which concerned her about her Master.
Regardless, this was the Holy Grail War. They could not, should not, and would not remain idle.
She was a Knight. She was a swordswoman. She would ensure her Master did not fall, and she would ensure that they obtained victory. That was her purpose in this summoning.
Therefore, she would answer her Master’s question of their strategy openly and honestly.
“While I believe we should exercise caution, a proactive approach is most suitable,” replied Saber, brushing her lengthy braided ponytail back with her fingers, “The sooner that we defeat an enemy, the sooner we can conquer their territory and utilize it for staging further attacks.”
There was no doubt in Saber’s mind, at the very least, that her Master’s resources could permit such an approach. Multiple locations of safety within the city would benefit their cause and also ensure that they could retreat if necessary for her Master’s wellbeing.
So, Saber was in favour of being preactive, but the specifics remained up to her. Red eyes drifted back to focus on the storage unit, regarding its protections once again.
In all honesty, it wasn’t bad work. If the owner – foe or local – had just wanted to avoid attention, it was thorough and would escape the attention of most that came looking without any issue. But anything that would drive Asteriel away would need to be considerably more thorough.
For one, the bounded field was not without its effects; the protections unavoidably impacted the flow of mana through the local area. Any magus was somewhat sensitive to the spiritual land they stood on – one only need look at the precipitous decline of the Makiri in the scant centuries since their move to Japan for evidence of that – but she was aware of the world in a way that a human wasn’t. To be part of nature, even artificially… well, it was hard to hide from her.
Secondly, a compulsion to look away when her attention was drawn would find no purchase on the Einzbern. She was no easy target, and to try to do to her what she could do with her eyes alone? For all that she loathed the old man, his stubborn iteration when it came to their Masters had its benefits.
No, the defences here were well-made, if entirely insufficient for a workshop. She was just the wrong intruder.
But this didn’t mean she should be reckless. There could be hidden defenses or even mundane traps. Especially with that door opening, visibly trying to demand her attention. Saber, though… unless an enemy Servant lay in wait, there was nothing a modern magus could have prepared that would imperil the Knight of the Sword, and a stronger defence would only empower her further.
“Then lead the way, Saber.”
“Very well, Master. In that case—”
Saber had nothing to fear from the defenses in place. Of that she was certain. Anything short of the work of a mage from the Age of Gods would be insufficient against her. Therefore, to her mild relief, her Master’s insistence that she lead the way was a wise decision motivated by her knowledge of her Servant’s capabilities.
She would spring what would quite likely be a trap herself.
“Keep a safe distance.”
It was in the span of an instant that the Knight of the Sword reached the door and pushed it aside, the thin blade of her sword materializing in a flurry of brilliant white lights. And yet, there was no movement inside.
However—
She could sense something strange here. Something wasn’t right. A table housed some form of modern devices there, which appeared to be for use as appliances. That, in and of itself, was not strange when it came to the purposes of some form of base of operations. That much would be expected.
But the slumped, lifeless-looking shape on the other hand, was quite abnormal. At a glance, Saber could not discern if any blasphemous and wicked rituals had been conducted upon the body. Indeed, it simply appeared motionless.
“There is what appears to be a corpse here, Master,” the brunette knight said, without removing her eyes from the body. She took a step closer, then paused, running her eyes over the lifeless shape once more. She could detect something from it.
A presence. The source of the sensation of being watched?
“It seems as if it is no ordinary body,” added Saber, “I am no mage, but I can sense some sort of presence from it.”
Stepping closer to the body, more details became visible in the dim, dusty half-light of the workshop. The lifeless form appeared now to be a construct rather than a carcass, its design as spartan and functional as its surroundings. What at first glance seemed to be the pale skin of a corpse yet to peel away from the rotting meat and dry bones beneath was now evident as rubber stretched taut over a frame that merely approximated human shape; for whatever the designs of whoever had left it here were, it seemed that they had little interest in dipping their toes into their discipline’s darker depths.
And yet, that came with little relief.
Though it may not have been a corpse violated or manipulated to some end by blasphemous ritual, the figure was yet unnerving to behold. Even if one were to overlook or fail to perceive the current of energy that seemed to run through it, a particularly dense pocket collecting in its chest, there was no mistaking the perverse intent that had been placed into the figure’s construction. While its frame was of apparently mundane origin, a mannequin that could just as well been snatched from a warehouse as crafted from scratch, the way in which it had been positioned was meticulously arranged to provoke discomfort. The sickly shade of its synthetic skin and the way in which it rested lifelessly in the chair had clearly been designed to evoke a body left to rot; and even before that, the very nature of its shape drew the common response of humanity to the uncanny, whether it was pure instinct or the learned paranoia of a warrior that made them alert to the unknown.
Compounding the unease was the head that rested slumped on those clammy shoulders: the skull of a large animal, stripped of flesh and polished such that the light of Saber’s sword gleamed against its ivory surface. Although it didn’t seem to have been excessively tampered with beyond being affixed to its new body, a cord ran from one of the devices on the table behind it, running up and through the nape of the neck that joined them-
And as it raised its head to look directly at Saber, piercing red light glared out of the depths of its dark, empty eye sockets to regard her.
It was no simple corpse. While Saber’s knowledge of magecraft was restricted largely to how to combat it and some passing familiarity due to the exploits of her allies, her understanding of what she was observing as it began to move swiftly sharpened. As repulsive as it was, it was at least no blasphemous manipulation of a corpse.
That did not make its appearance any less perverse, and in utterly poor taste. Who designed such a thing? Surely, as some form of servile construct, they could have made it less repulsive.
Then again, perhaps the strange servitor’s appearance was related to the techniques used to animate it? Such things could be so, as far as Saber understood, when it came to the topic of magecraft.
“Unidentified.”The voice that came from within the skull was tinny and distorted, and its movements weren’t significantly divorced from that. The sudden upwards jerk of its head had seemed almost involuntary, the rest of its frame failing to shift even an inch in concert; the pinpricks of light that bore into Saber felt equally ambiguous, their assessment of her feeling more of a statement than an accusation.
“Your presence has been logged.” Perhaps it was too early to discern whether or not it was a conscious entity; but the deep, mechanical monotone suggested that whatever spark of life animated it was faint. That the intelligence it possessed was as rudimentary as its form. “What is the purpose of your visit?”
There was a lack of hostility from the corpse-like puppet, at least for the moment. After some consideration, Saber concluded it was best to attempt to extract more information from it before moving on and destroying it if necessary.
“Stay back, Master. It is some form of construct,” she called, looking back over her shoulder only briefly before returning her attention entirely to the puppet.
“I am here as a visitor, merely to observe this workshop,” she said in response to its question. It was not entirely a lie, and as of this moment no further action had been determined. Saber found it unlikely that the workshop was not some form of trap that would need to be destroyed, but if further understanding could be extracted from the construct then that meant it was best to take things more slowly.
The construct’s impassive stare held throughout Saber’s deliberation, either oblivious or entirely indifferent to the very real possibility of its destruction by her hands. It did, however, shift away from her the moment she called out to Asteriel; leaning briefly in tune with her own movement to stare past her, towards the doorframe and the woman just beyond it.
It maintained that position for a brief moment, the red light doing its best to penetrate the steely gleam of the sword at its guest’s side, which disturbed the darkness its primitive senses had presumably been tuned to. No response seemed forthcoming as Saber attempted to maintain its attention on her-
”Master.” As it returned slowly to its upright position, it spoke not in its previous monotone, but in the Servant’s own timbre; not conscious imitation, but a frequency decoded and replicated through its mechanical larynx. Its unblinking gaze was now squarely back on her, and though there was yet no sign of immediate hostility, the light seemed more intense than before. ”Subject identified. Servant, designation unclear. Secondary subject, Master. Unidentified. Unnaturally high mana throughput.”
There came another lull: unlike before, however, it was precipitated not by silence, but by a strange sound that came from within the puppet’s skull. Though she was unlikely to have encountered it directly since manifesting, the knowledge that the Grail supplied Saber would quickly identify it as the sound of a digital phone ringing, the electronic sound running in concert with flashes of light from one of the devices behind the skull-headed puppet.
”Request received. Stand by for transfer.” And with a click, the sound stopped, returning the workshop to silence.
“Aaaah, you really should have attacked first. Now they know we’re here,” Asteriel seemed to have some idea what was going on – or, perhaps, she had just been able to hear the ringing of a phone, “But then, perhaps this is better? It makes our search far shorter.”
”We’ll call that a matter of perspective, dear.” Once again, a tinny voice broke the silence. But this time, as the puppet rose from the chair to stand upon its own two feet, it was neither its initial mechanical monotone nor its mimicry of Saber, but a new, unfamiliar voice. ”Either way, you needn’t fret. I knew you were here the moment you invited yourself in.”
Well, now they definitely should have destroyed it. Maybe it would have made the other Master come visiting without stopping to consider the levels of mana she could bring to bear.
But if they knew anything about the war, then they would identify her on sight. It hardly mattered – she was just going to stay over here and wait.