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Gillian chuffed as Velbrance skulked away, back to whatever dark plotting corner of the party he'd slithered from. He almost wished Tyathe had gone a little further, but made no mention of it. But orders were, regretfully, orders. If the Captain said that reducing the high born punk to a red smear wasn't allowed, then both of them would have to suck it up and let him go. He gave a vague wave in Tyathe's direction as she fired off her parting words. "Horse's and water Radistirin. Horse's and water." he rebutted pointlessly, knowing full well the vampire likely wouldn't have listened if she DID hear him.

He leaned against the buffet table for a while, letting the room drift over him as he cleared his head. The princess was here, which meant Alisha wasn't far off. And with the offer of a dance still hovering at a definite 'maybe' he really didn't want to hurt his chances by talking to royalty while in a bad mood...oh. And that said princess could probably have him executed on the spot. That was also good incentive.

He poured himself a glass of wine while he cold down, watching as various knights drifted towards her Highness. Not that he didn't blame them. Lady Eliabelle was undeniably magnetic; as gentle in demeanor as the rumors suggested and beautiful. a sense. If pressed, Gill would openly admit she was easily up there with one of the most attractive people he'd ever seen, but was hard pressed to care. As if his mind had written off the prospect of being anything more than a guest from the word go and (in an effort to keep his hopes down) had reduced the girl to...decoration.

Gillian scowled down at his wine, not enjoying that line of thought and more than a little ashamed for having stumbled through it. He'd FELT like a thing in the eyes of more than a few people. With enemies it was fine, hell preferable at times. But it had taken a few years to get used to civilians doing it."Admiration and ignorance make for good poison..." He grumbled to himself, draining his drink quickly.

He silently grabbed the wine bottle and a few spare glasses before making his way to the group hovering near the Princess. He held off approaching the girl for the moment, content to let her indulge herself on the mini-captain. Selfish as it maybe, he'd feel like a sack of shit if he didn't at least ATTEMPT to treat her like a person before the night was out, but it was probably the wiser choice to let her approach him.

He eyed the knights as he approached, putting names to faces. Rowan and Nicomede were easy picks, being contemporary knights (if slightly older). He'd spared with both more than once, though admittedly had a preference to Rowan. Rowan was challenging, matching Gill's obscene strength with enduring patience. Gill had rarely not learned something when they had spared, even when he won.

Nico, on the other had, was simply infuriating to fight. If Gill didn't make it a point to try and over power him as quickly as possible, the wormy tactician would almost always win. Not to say he hated the man. He rarely spoke to any of his fellow knights, and the fact he'd bothered to actually LEARN their names was paying greater respect to them than most. But Sparring with Nicomede? Yeah. It was the worst.

The woman took him longer to recognize, if only because she had left before he'd become a knight proper. Parnella had spoken highly of Elwen Gela during his time training under her. And given that Seige Parnella was largely (and wholly justifiably) considered to be the most sadistic and dangerous Living Reliquary alive at the moment, that was reason enough to commit the woman's face to memory. Gillian honestly shuddered to think what the hell Elwen did to actually impress a senior Rose like her.

"Generally speaking...we keep them too tired to be terrorized by a flock of dragons, much less Rowan." Gillian chuckled, offering an empty glass to his companions and waggling the wine bottle with his free hand. The glass rattling brightly as it clinked against the metal of his arms. "We make them do squats in full kit whenever they get caught checking out an instructor. We had Nico take off his shirt after the cool down one time. You could hear their knees popping for two days straight." He adds in a whisper, chuckling as he refilled his glass before moving on to the others.

@Heartfillia@VitaVitaAR @Krayzikk @Sync

Gillian grinned viciously as their resident immortal cornered Lord Velbrance. Part of him wished the woman's impulse control would slip for a moment, just enough that the mans wrist broke. It wouldn't be ideal, he knew. It was a controversy hey didn't really need at the moment. Besides, men like Velbrance had a history of ending up on the wrong side of the Rose's eventually, though not always fatally. "My irreverence is my own." Gill said, cutting in and gently attempting to pull Tyathe's hand away. Not terribly urgently however.

"Whilst Sir Radistirin and yourself may disagree with me on the importance of theology, we can be agreed on the importance of Elione's example." He said evenly and loudly enough that whatever eaves droppers that might have congregated could understand him clearly. "My point was that there was nothing innately special about Elionne. She merely that she acted on a base impulse present in all people, that of protecting others. Be that with personal sacrifice or not. The only difference Elionne has from any other soul, as Tyathe is pointing out, is the extent to which she was willing to go in the name of that impulse."

He released Tyathe's hand, freed of Velbrance's filth or not. "I have failed to meet that example in the past. Likely everyone here has. Hell, perhaps even Elionne has failed once or twice in such matters. And it is likely we will, in moments of weakness, fail again." He said, crossing his arms.

"That, more than her sainthood, is the example that Elionne set that I choose to admire. That in the face of the inevitable failures that she might have suffered, she did NOT fail to maintain that base impulse and act on it at every opportunity she thought possible as so many of us do. Sainthood is the REWARD for that, and that is all it is. A reward. If Elionne never achieved it, then she'd still be someone to admired and emulated. So, I stand by what I said." He finished, glaring at the boy Lord. Oh the slimy fucker would find some way to put all that in a bad light, he was sure.

He turned his gaze over to Fanlily. "Who cares about saints. The people who matter are the ones who will help. Saints might be in that category, they may at times define it, but they are not its sole occupants. Try and maybe fail to become a saint if you must, but never fail to be willing to help no matter the cost. That is all that I, or anyone else, should demand from a Captain. Or ourselves for that mater."

"Aw what the hell..." Lucius grumbled as he watched the hulking form of a honest to goodness dragon burst into the stands, black flames engulfing a few poor souls in a pyroclastic flow. While it definitely wasn't the worst way to die he could think of, it was way up on that list. He stared a moment, racking his brain for anything he might be able to to help kill that thing before it got out of control. He came up with very little, damning his class for its weakness in dealing with heavy hitters like that. He wasn't even sure if his Noble Phantasm would WORK on something like the dragon. It didn't feel like a traditional servant and, sadly, those were his only valid targets with the thing.

And even if it did, he doubted it would help much. His spears could hurt a heroic spirit, even if they were still mundane by comparison. There was just only so many times a person sized target could be stabbed until their body just gave out either due to exhaustion or bloodloss. But with something that large? He could literally stab it all day and get no closer to killing it.

Then something occurred to him. While his Phantasm couldn't damage the behemoth, it MIGHT still cause it to lower its guard for a surprise attack. Provide he kept its attention. With a quick nod to the servants behind him he disengaged from the trio of shadow servants, dropping to a dead sprint for Arturia.

"Saber!" He bellowed as he ran up along side the King of Knights. "If you can get that big bastard to lock eyes with me, I might be able to get you a clean one hit kill. Can you do another one of those giant blasts?" He asks hurried, casually slashing a shadow as they passed it. Neither having the time nor the patience to finish it off.


Gillian bit into his apple again, eyeing the little Lordling, starting to question how much lee way his position as a Living Reliquary gave him. He decided that eschewing social convention and slapping the little fucker probably wasn't in his wheel house for the moment. Still, the bastard was putting the screws to the minicaptain, and he was starting to doubt the girl even knew it. It annoyed him, even if he silently agreed that the girl had no right to her position. But it was different. He'd have to follow orders. He had a stake in the Rose's and what good they could or couldn't do with this child at the helm. He would live and possibly die on her decisions. This...outsider. He had earned none of that right to question.

"Who cares?" Gillian said bluntly, pointedly looking at Fanlily. "Saint's nothing more than a fancy title with a little divine backing. Living Reliquary is much the same." He said clearly and evenly, trying to pick his words carefully as he skirted some quasi-heretical dismissal of Sainthood. "But you wanna know a secret I've learned?"

"When you might die and someone saves you a bandit is as good as a Saint. It doesn't really matter what you were before..." he adds, taking a bite of his apple once more, munching as he continues. "You just ARE the person who stuck their neck out for them. Elionne ain't special in that regard. Never was."

Gill unceremoniously drops the half eaten apple onto a plate, seemingly finished with it. "And while I didn't know the woman, I can't really imagined she'd care much for things like caliber or worthiness. Can't exactly use either to protect anyone but yourself."

Gillian trudged into the party with little fanfare, a decidedly unamused scowl on his face. Hilda had been good as her word when she said he would wear the damnable outfit he was currently in. The woolen robes could be graciously described as 'archaic' at the best of times, the dull blue coat attempting to choke him as if Mayon herself was vicariously communicating her displeasure with him. He stood out like an ornately dressed sore thumb, if a traditional one. Many of the nobles gave him the odd glance, his figure brought to their eyes both by his dress and the clearly grafted limbs of his station. Hushed whispers passing between them as he passed and made no attempt to interact with them. Gillian ignored them. He wasn't here to be fawned over by people who had no earthly clue what these arms really meant.

He opted instead to stay close to the mini-captain, wagering that she would be a thankful lightning rod for any fawning that was to take place. That she would also very likely be the first to meet with the Princess was also a pretty useful, even if it wasn't the Royal Gill was particularly keen on seeing. What he had forgotten to take into account was that the Captain would also attract annoying back handed complimenting nobles as well.

Gill regarded Lord Velbrance like one might a particularly fat fly buzzing around their head. Which was to say, an unwanted common pest that most sensible people would happily slam into the nearest table if social graces allowed. "He's even hovering by the food. How apt..." Gillian said plainly, palming an apple from the buffet.

"If anyone has no fear going into a fight then their either an idiot or arrogant enough to deserve to die." Gillian said, neither bothering to bow or address the Lord properly as he took a large bite of the apple. "As I'm told, Jeremiah fell into the latter category and got beheaded for his troubles, among other things." He added, casually wiping the juice from his mouth onto his sleeve before extending it to the Lordling to shake hands in greeting.

"Captain Danbalion might be green, but not so green that she forgot to respect the danger the situation, however slight. A far better showing than most people three or four years her senior." He said, his tone that of glowing praise despite the implied insult to the Lord. "I'm sure if the other Reliquaries were in attendance, they would agree." He added, knowing full well that atleast one mirrored his own opinion....but he was also pretty sure he and Parnella would be loved to have joined in jabbing at the man if she were here.

"As the Lady wishes...But it had best not be another nude." He warned in a teasing tone, knowing he could probably squeeze a few more coins out of the girl if it was. Lucius leapt from the private booth, savoring the feel of free fall for a moment before gravity took him, dropping him into the chaos of the stands. He landed hard on the back of a shadow Servant, feeling whatever ephemeral equivalent to a spine snap under his weight long before his spear buried itself into the creatures skull. Light exploded from the otherside of the arena as The King of Knights cut a bloodied swath through the attacks with her noble phantasm.

Frankly, that weapon felt like cheating. And were this a grail war he'd have taken that as a solid indication that killing her master, and leaving Arturia alone would have been the sole option for dealing with her (however much the idea galled him). But thankfully, no such war was in place, and he'd be a fool not to have some gratitude for the massive overkill being on THEIR side. He pushed forward down into the stands, casually flicking his spear into the neck of a shadow as he passed.

"speaking of our side..." He mumbled, sprinting past a hurdled ball of lesser masters guarded by a trio of servants and throwing himself into a group of five shadows. He ducked past an axe aimed his face, bring his spear up to deflect a sword as it attempted to catch him off guard. Throughout the arena, every friendly servant felt a sudden boost in their speed as he activated his skill; And Salvius Was There. Those at the highest echelon of agility likely felt little change, there was only so much speed one could have after all. But it would sure up the defenses of the lesser servants and make their heavy hitters all the more a threat to the shadows.

"Mores the pity it doesn't affect me though..." He thought, parrying a hammer before driving his spear into the throat of the would be assassin. His hand firing out as he did so and grasping the axe wielder by the collar before driving his knee into the brutes face, dazing him the milisecond he needed to wrench the spear from his now evaporating victim and draw it across the shadows spine. The remaining three shadows backed away quickly, now not so eager to swarm him with their current number. The two sword wielders (and a curiously small shield fighter it seemed), took a defensive posture. Evidentially deciding to stall until their numbers recovered.

That was all fine by Lucius. He only really needed one of them to stay alive to keep the skill going. And with the shield fighter there, a match up he'd admit would be annoying to deal with even if these were relatively trivial foes, it was an easy choice. "DO TRY AND MAKE IT QUICK!" He yelled toward the center of the arena. "THIS TRICK ONLY WORKS FOR A LITTLE WHILE."

Leith Walton

Leith listened in silence as his captor of choice voiced her explanation, attempting to put some logical frame work into all of this.He found scarcely little worked. The 'shoggoth' as she called herself seemed friendly enough, and he was not one to not accept the hospitality of a good servant. Even one as squishy and semi-transparent as this."...While I did hit my head on the way down...I received no such missive. Mine was merely an invitation to a new world. I agreed only because I assumed it some sort of japery." He grumbled from his place on the ground before Lila broke into her own explanation.

"While that is all well an good Miss Lolla-pffft Lovelace..." He said, idly wondering if blowing raspberries was common in this new worlds surnames. "What is it that you are getting out of this? One hardly expends what must be a considerable effort in bring forth other worldly beings and furnishing them with servants..." He says, gesturing to Vel who....he supposed he needed to start paying now? He was unsure if he'd just gotten an employee or been taken hostage and the girls word choice hardly cleared such matters up. "Not even to mention the probably considerable cost of trans-dimensional postage for the sake of charity. Whilst I'm without a doubt as to my ability to thrive in yours or any other world, I'm afraid I must ask what your catch is."

Lucius stared absently at the fights, not really engaged with it all. Oh sure, there was no denying the skills of the Knights but it just felt....hallow. Maybe it was just in his nature as a servant of the assassin class, but for some reason a fight not to the death, however reasonable that may have been, just didn't thrill him like a real battle might. He had no real context for that though. He was sure he saw such mock fights in his life, but he couldn't remember any of them in any significant degree.

He was about to ask Marietta if she wished to leave when something caught his eye. Thin wisp of black mist flitted between stadium seats below them, congregating for moments then dispersing. "Master..." He said softly, standing up from his chair and summoning his spear, the weight comfortable in his hand as he felt his boredom subside. "Step away from the window a moment." He sighed dreamily, standing in a lax guard as he took position.

Honestly, he felt insulted. For a variety of reasons. Firstly it wound his professional pride (even if he disagree with the profession) as an assassin that this attack was so open. Where was the elegance? Secondly...that he doubted he or his master were the target. True they'd not actually DONE anything to warrant such aggression. But it hurt his ego just a twinge that the forth coming fun was probably made specifically for someone else.

And then...the stadium exploded into chaos. Lucius watched for the half second he was allowed, witnessing as several masters (or just those lacking the skill to be ones atleast) were struck down before being absorbed. Most were in the stands, where they were more exposed. 'Suffer the cost of paying for the cheap seats I suppose..' He thought idly, waiting for his target. With the public seating area now in chaos it only made sense they would begin their assault on the private booth in three....two...

He thrust his spear forward, the steel shattering the window and embedding itself deep in the throat of a hammer wielding wraith. It gurgled for a moment before crumpling back into mist, a faint sense of surprising radiating off it as it 'died'. "I'm afraid this bets a tie my dear master." He said, not sounding the least bit disappointed. "The fault lies with these folk. I can deal with them if you wish at say...30 cents a head?" He asked, shooting his master a gleeful smile.

His priority would be her safety, of course. Finding a new master would be rather difficult in this chaos....and frankly finding one as loaded as his current one would be harder. Still, if she'd no objections and was willing to pay his toll he'd gladly wade in. He pauses a moment, looking back where he'd killed the first intruder (both to make sure nobody else was making an immidate attack and to consider his work). "....first one is free of course."
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