Lancer glanced down at the offered cigarette once, the slightest twitch of his eyes downwards, before they rose to meet the other servant's gaze once again. The reek coming off of the man from it was patently offensive to his sense of smell, though in life he had dealt with worse. As distasteful as it was, he could stand firm, assuming the wind didn't shift and blow it directly at him.
The other man didn't wait long, inhaling the smoke from his own before providing his own answer to the offer and the other question that had accompanied it. Unperturbed—or at least making an effort to appear as such. But not comfortable enough with the silence or the stare to simply wait it out himself.
"You would be correct, though I wonder at your readiness to answer for me.""Pardon me, one can never be too sure where they stand." The man came back with a response quickly, maintaining the unruffled impression he seemed to be trying to put forth to Lancer.
"In any case, it cheers me to be the first to have the chance to talk to you, rather than a certain other."His words were at once measured and a little provocative; politely spoken, but with the implication that he knew something Lancer didn't and wanted him to interrogate that.
"I respect that your time here may not entirely be your own, so I'll cut to the heart of the matter." After wavering a little at the silence, the pleasant smile- or at least whatever approximated such a thing amongst the man's features- slipped back across his face.
"What have you gleaned of this Holy Grail War so far?"Fast to respond after the silence had dragged on, and fast to start angling towards something.
"So that is what this is," Lancer rumbled in reply, a flat monotone in contrast to the other's measured pitch and rhythm. The faintest quiver at the corners of the shorter man's lips was noted, the urbane smile resumed the moment it passed.
Lancer was familiar with the hunt, both of men and of animals, and of all the forms it could take. It wasn't difficult to determine
what the other was angling towards, when he had made it so obvious. Traps like that were put out with the intent that the unwise would fall into them, and those who thought they knew would spring them intentionally under the assumption that they could make their own way out.
"I have gleaned that you have good eyes."Rather than try and turn it around, it was simplest to step right over it. He turned, looking down the path and the road that the other servant had come from, visibly unconcerned with the proximity they were in, before he turned back once more. The man who was
alone, at a time when a majority of servants would be remaining closer to their masters.
There was one inside the church now, as Beatrice had told him. Others he had witnessed coming and going already.
"You seem comfortably familiar with this place already."This time, the man extended Lancer the courtesy of letting him answer for himself, maintaining that dubiously amiable smile as he spoke. If he was conscious of the fact that his fellow Servant was all but telling him he wasn't interested in his games, he didn't let it show; though there was a sudden
glint in his eyes as Lancer queried his vision.
"I have been told as much." he chuckled, plucking his cigarette from his mouth for a moment and raising a hand in some oblique gesture.
"One of the... tricks of the trade, shall we say?""Truth be told, I'm no more familiar with these surroundings than yourself. I would wager we're here under the same circumstances in more ways than one." He continued, letting the arm with his cigarette hang at his side as he furnished Lancer with a meaningful look.
"Men like us learn quickly, long centuries melting away into experience as we hit our stride. But not all are so adaptable. I know of certain parties in this war for whom a millennia of continuous failure couldn't elicit so much as a moment of self-reflection.""Mmm."Lancer couldn't give too much away by explaining just
what he'd meant, though the man's reaction was answer enough.
Tricks of the trade indeed. No doubt, in life, he
had been a proper hunter of some sort. Or perhaps on the other side of that same coin, maintaining the hunting lands and the animals upon them, and turning the hunt back on any poachers.
If so, his ability to spot a man hidden was no surprise, and could only be amplified with this service after death.
He stood silent for a moment after the noncommittal grunt, before he pointed at one of the glass windows on the church.
"You're right. That would need a mirror."The man quirked a brow at Lancer's comment, the smile flattening out as he returned his cigarette to his mouth, taking a long pull of it as he seemed to appraise the man. Perhaps the Servant's intuition was correct, and the hunter was reassessing how to approach difficult prey, sorting between the right psychological tools to accomplish the task at hand.
Or perhaps he was simply frustrated by Lancer's refusal to play along and needed a moment to collect himself.
"Rather." He exhaled, a deep plume of smoke drifting up into the night air. His tone was as measured and polite as before, but the smile, likely affected though it was, remained absent from his features.
"After all, no amount of knowledge, talent or aspirations can save one from a lack of sense.""Well, perhaps it's too early to speculate on such things." But a short, sharp chuckle heralded the return of the smile as something seemed to click into place.
"And besides, there's no sense in wasting time contemplating on behalf of those unable to. No, I'm much more interested in hearing your thoughts on the matter."What brings you to this day and age? Duty alone cannot compel one to return from beyond, after all- even if the purported prize is hardly what was advertised.""I have no clue what they found to drag me back. I didn't think I would be exciting enough to consider."A moment passed in ponderous, heavy silence. Lancer felt the man's eyes stare
into him, even as the smile lingered.
"I see." The side of his mouth twitched a little as he finally spoke, the glint in his eye dulling.
"Not to sound a broken record, but perhaps it's not worth contemplating on the motives of those who don't seem to give much thought to them themselves."Lancer's stare continued to fall on the shorter man, unwavering.
"You speak much of motive and intention, for one who is to be a servant," he said slowly, as though pondering a very difficult concept.
"It seems you struggle with such thoughts. If you are lost in them, I doubt I can aid you much.""Clearly." This time the reply came fast and terse, the man's polite tone finally wavering even as his expression remained nominally amiable.
"Perhaps this was a little too much too soon. I apologize. All the same, give it some thought." Smile flattening out into a neutral line, he took the cigarette from his mouth and
incinerated what remained of it with a flash of black flame. As the remaining particulate from the stub dispersed into the wind, he cast his gaze past Lancer towards the Church.
"One can never be too sure of where they stand in times like these."It had taken surprisingly little to break the man's facade, Lancer felt. For someone who was playing such an obvious-seeming game, he was very unsuited to having it thrown back in his face. Of course, given the small talent he'd just shown, it was obvious as well that he'd been some level of a magus in life—though if Lancer had to guess, not nearly enough so to earn himself a place as Caster.
Nor would he expect one such time have so transparent a ploy, even to his own eyes.
The man before him, with his thin-set lips and discomfited stare, not only had his own designs, but had no qualms pursuing them whether he had leave to or not. Atop that, he sought to drag others into them, leaving tidbits of information as bait, trying to appeal to whatever motives he could to sweeten the deal, whether base or lofty.
A talker. Not so much a fighter—certainly not as a first choice. Yet, unless he was exceedingly foolhardy, not an Assassin. Others, perhaps, were still quite open—until he could see the man's armament, at least, assuming his Noble Phantasm
was some form of weapon.
"You value your own company," he said at last, breaking the momentary silence.
"And that of those who think like you. Hunters often behave as such—it only makes sense. I would not feel confident if I were in the wilderness with a party I found myself constantly at odds with. Yet it seems you forget that your fellow hunters are not your prey, to me."One foot slid slightly backwards. Hands half-raised, relaxed, yet ready.
"I do not appreciate your overestimation of your own intellect, or your overvaluing of your own wants and choices in this. Unless one comes to exist between our masters, there will be no accord between us. I suggest you run back to whoever they are and keep that in mind."Lancer's words brought no immediate change to the man's stance or expression, his expression still neutral as he looked over the church. But as he slowly craned his neck to look to him, there was an unmistakable shift in the air. The glint in his eyes had been one of appraisal, but now they seemed to size him up far more keenly, not merely curious but actively searching for anything that could be used to his advantage. The warm summer breeze seemed momentarily absent, as did the ambient sounds of the Sako evening in the distance.
"Take from my words what you will, it makes no difference to me." It didn't seem as if he was ready to answer Lancer's words and stance with violence, though now his tone was as cold and clear as the air around them had become.
"You and your Master can conduct yourselves however you like, as shall mine and I. But do not make the mistake of believing everyone is willing to be so even-handed over this sham of a Grail."A smile returned to the man's face. This one, however, much like the air about him, was rather devoid of warmth.
"For some, even the most uncertain promise is cause enough to bring out the long knives. Centuries of vain hope resting perniciously upon something that's as likely to set this town aflame as it is to alleviate them. When faced with a beast like that..." The object of his gaze shifted once more, this time past Lancer and back down the direction he'd arrived from. Raising a hand to his temple, some exchange seemed to take place beyond the other man's ability to perceive-
"Well, I've kept you long enough. Make whatever arrangements suit your tastes, but it seems I'm needed elsewhere." And the world seemed to resume regular course as the chill abated, the sounds of the summer evening rushing back in as the man chuckled, taking his hand from his head and starting back down the way.
"Take care, lest the hunter become the hunted."The facade shattered entirely, the even-keeled demeanour gone in an instant. But the man's words, tone, and expressions were not the only things that Lancer had to watch—the movement of his hand, wrist, elbow, arm; the way the cloth of his sleeve bunched and bent against the muscle beneath it; the uncanny
stillness that came over him as the rug was pulled, eyes on Lancer without a hint of emotion or ego, but only cold observation.
And when he turned, watching his back, his shoulders, the peculiarities of his walk. Every detail being committed to memory. Here was a man who was no stranger to a fight, certainly, but one who would never fight so
close if he could avoid it. One who would always prefer the hunt over the struggle, and yet one who likely knew that subterfuge and deception were as effective within a melee as without. A stalker, but not an
Assassin, indeed.
He was sure of it.
Too controlled, too level to be a battle-rager. Not the sort to be a Caster. That left him with two options, in his mind.
"If you take a shot at me," he said softly, a low rumble that he knew the other's ears would pick up with no trouble,
"You had better make sure it does not miss. I will not afford you the courtesy of a second.""Oh, rest your dog's heart, you've nothing to fear there." The man seemed to pause for a moment as he went; but as that moment passed, he simply kept walking, raising a hand to bid Lancer farewell. Perhaps it was for the best that he couldn't see the man's expression. His choice of words was as careful as ever, but this time, there was no certainty with which you could use to catch hold of them.
"Don't forget to say hello to the Einzberns for me." And with one final jibe of some peculiar intent, he was gone, the outline of his body collapsing into fractals and his form into black smoke that was quickly swallowed by the night as he made towards his new destination.
Lancer watched the man disappear, standing resolute for a couple moments more before he turned and made his own way away from the church grounds. He'd yet to catch any semblance of a call from Beatrice, but he wasn't about to leave her wandering alone after that conversation. It did leave him wondering
one thing, however; shortly after his summoning, his master had made a point to bring him somewhat up-to-date on the nature of the prior grail wars. The origins of the one that this seemed to be trying to recreate, the families involved.
He wasn't sure if the other servant thought the mention of the Einzberns would be a surprise or not.
His long strides carrying him through the graveyard, he came to Beatrice's side once more, slowing down so as not to entirely outpace her.
"Did you learn anything useful?" he asked, with a half-nod back towards the church.
"Or was it as much of a distraction as I expected?"
As she imperiously points at me with the chopsticks—at least she'd started holding them properly—I turn away, half-heartedly lifting another morsel to my mouth.
"I was trying not to point that out," I mumble in response to her completing my earlier thought without any shame, thankful that, thanks to the design of the inn, we had quite a bit more privacy than in any normal place.
Probably for the best that she doesn't know I'm thinking that. She might not call me so brave if she did.
At least, somehow she seems the type that would be more likely to laugh at me knowing I got embarrassed by something she didn't.
"A-anyways, your hips are still wider, so it's not like that was the only thing. And don't point with your chopsticks, that's rude." Trying to save a little bit of face, but still not making eye contact again, I lift up my left hand, pointing back at the bedroom.
"Find something you like. Once you're changed we can walk back to town."
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