FAILNAUGHT.

     “if i’ve noticed one thing about this place, it is that an absence of leadership has allowed a vacuum to form where the criminal get away with whatever they like despite the best efforts of local law enforcement, and as a result it has given birth to groups like those phantom thieves.”

     “once i’ve regained some strength, as a knight i have little choice but to put my resources to the task of eliminating the dark underbelly of this realm for the safety of those that wish to leave peacefully.”

      ▲ ❝ Not everyone, no. However, I know there are people who may always become plagued with nightmares so the idea of sleeping may not always be something inviting to some… ❞

It’s welcoming; this man’s disposition. Like the knights he knew from before, in the before before, 100 years ago. Putting consideration into how he’s doing before he does so himself. To which, he can only offer his own smile. He finds himself more grateful than he realizes to meet someone like this, compared to the ones who were rather difficult with… everything.

“I haven’t yet.” but he knows the mission might need to be one that they make haste towards, “If we have time… I could eat here. Or on the way, if we don’t.”

                    Upon hearing his answer, a frown tugs at his lips; the distance he travelled was said to be a long one, and for him to do it in a day’s time, without eating much—it was a truly troubling thought. Furthermore, when the young knight then suggests to eat on their way to their next destination, Tristan only shakes his head a couple of seconds before addressing him once again. “You should eat here. While our mission is important, it won’t do it any good if you’re not at your best.”

      ▲ ❝ Though the dreams I had were strange… It was nice, I think, to be able to rest after so long. I do not think we ever truly realize just how much we need sleep until we are on the verge of passing out or such… ❞

Shirou knew a weakling like him still was not enough to save anybody. Yet, there were so many people in front of him who needed to be saved. That was why, like a thief in the middle of the night he sneaked away to complete this illegal heroism. A cloak covered his shoulders down, and he wrapped his face in a scarf. He thought he was moving in a way no one could see him, until a voice spoke out from behind him. 

“The common sense thing may be to avoid troublesome areas, but if people are in trouble here I want to help them.” He looked back to see a man much different than himself. He was probably, the real deal in comparison to Shirou. Shirou was just a fake making the effort to be rule. Still he tried to stand tall, gripping the black bow he was holding at his side.  “That’s why I have to go looking for trouble.” 

                    “No... foolish though it is... it’s quite admirable of you.” It wasn’t a response he was expecting, given this had been the first individual who had claimed as such. It was clear enough that he hadn’t appeared the sort to lie readily, by both his appearance and the sincerity heard in his voice. Pleased, the knight tilts his head to the side for a moment, revealing a smile. “If I’m honest, I hardly see such commitment.”

     There was technology in Spirale that he never would have dreamed of in his lifetime. There was so much to see, and he’d probably spend weeks just trying to understand it all. Even the noise was a lot to take in as well, and it was perhaps because of all these foreign sounds that his mind zeroed in on something he could recognize. He even started walking towards the solemn melody, unable to let go of the memories stirring within, listening intently until the very last note.

     The harpist was a man who appeared a bit older than Charlemagne, and he wore… armor? Without much thought, the Saber called out, ❝ That’s a really nice tune, sir! You’re very skilled! Oh, sorry! I don’t mean to be rude. The song just struck a chord in me, haha! ❞

@archers // s.c.

                    Scouring through forested areas had become more of a habit lately; every now and then he would change the location in where he would practice. Regarding this particular area, he had been frequenting it for a nearly a week now and not once had someone stumbled across him—until right this moment, in any case. Nonetheless, he shifts his head towards the apparent knight’s direction, all the while showing a soft smile. “I had thought this area secluded...” His gloved fingers now cease playing the said solemn tune in question, though he still continues to pluck his bow’s strings at random intervals.

➵ While somewhat annoyed at not being able to read this man, let alone get any sort of reaction out of him, she brushed it off as ‘that’s just the way he seems to be’. In the end, her attention lay with the chance to shoot a bow again, having been stuck with a tiny toy for far too long. Naturally, it wasn’t as good as Tauropolos, but it was something.

“Hoh, is that so? I never said I doubted my ability, just that one can always improve.” Which to her was an unshakeable fact. Even if one ended up the best in something, they could still become even better. It’s what she always strove for with determination. It seemed her words were enough to change his mind, at the very least. Previously he seemed on the fence about joining the contest at all, now he was already picking up a bow. Ironic.

                    As they continue their discussion, the rest of the contestants are given similar standard bows. Whilst his gaze lingers on the proctor instructing each of them on the rules once more, he quickly inserts a reply to her. “... I wish to agree with that sentiment... yet I find it hard to believe that neither you nor I would improve in such a competition.” Perhaps it had sounded vain of him to say so, yet there was great truth in the fact. The others participating, while greatly skilled in their own calibre, they could not and never would match the capabilities of that of Heroic Spirits.

“You seem as though you speak from experience, Sir Tristan. Though I cannot say that I am familiar with your tale. I doubt reading it would be as fulfilling as hearing it from the actual person who went through such events.”

                    “From experience...?” His words were surprising to hear; it wasn’t that he was transparent, no, Tristan had made sure of that—the boy before him was just clever, as he proved time and again. With his features now softening, a soft chuckle soon escapes him. 

“Knights are often seen as the most heroic of defenders, it seems only natural that people would be drawn to them when it comes to romance. It stands to assume that they would be capable in that field, perhaps.”

Everything had gone white. Their surroundings, the sky, only the people who stood to fight against the demon lord were what was left of the fantasy realm. But no one faltered. At the sounding of many signals did the battle finally start. No longer was Yusuke part of the fantasy world, his appearance had reverted back to normal and his clothing had been appropriately replaced with the familiar attire he had come to know so well. Katana in hand, he leapt forth into the fray without so much as a second thought, cutting down any enemy in his path. It worked for a while, but he had quickly grown careless of his surroundings and just as a creature is about to slash at his neck, a single arrow pierces through its body. Yusuke, in shock, looks toward his savior who stood not too far away, bow in his hand. “–Sir Tristan.”

He stops for a moment, speechless before breathing a sigh of relief. “…You have my thanks.”

— @archers

                    As he wanders through the streets, he begins to realize the obvious change in atmosphere, including the appearance of individuals he had passed. There was significantly less people who bore the fantastical features he’d been so used to seeing these past couple of weeks for starters. It’s not as if they had all looked human though, only some had. Still, it’s clear to him that whatever that was, that fantasy world, had now passed, and that most individuals have returned to their usual self. He had, fortunately, never changed in appearance, and so he remains the same as ever. The second change however, did apply to him. Seconds after the shift in his surroundings, he takes notice that all of his powers were currently at his disposal to him, and without any restrictions—or so it felt as such.

                    Upon learning such a fact, he quickly first takes a moment to change into his armor—for the fight to come. As his casual wear ( that was appropriate in that fantasy world ) dissipates, it’s replaced by the usual garb he wears, coupled with his sword at his hip, and no sooner does he summon Failnaught to his gloved fingertips. As if to prove the fact, he strums his bow with the intention to eliminate incoming enemies. With a few strokes, the group of enemies before him are effortlessly sliced through and dispatched instantly. Even though this was an attack he was able to perform even before, he now fully knows that his abilities truly have been granted to him. With that now known to him ( without doubt ), he rushes about to different areas, mostly those populated with individuals in need of assistance. 

                    For those who require protection from the Demon Lord’s underlings, he fights to defend them, and for those who are wounded, he offers them his song of healing. For the past hour, the vigil he keeps grants him praise from both those who he has saved and those who have witnessed his prowess. Once he confirms that there is no enemy presence within their vicinity, he urges them to find shelter until this event passes, even making sure that they find such a shelter before moving onto the next area. “... Hm?” It’s when he starts on his next venture into a neighbouring sector that he catches sight of the unusual development of several large enemies lingering in a certain alleyway. Drawn by the occurrence, he quickly makes his way there only to see the figure of a young boy fighting off a group of enemies. 

浪人 – “Ahaha… Well, you know? Don’t modern humans have a thing about labeling people ‘furries’ or ‘scalies’ or things like that?” This was a terrible conversation.

“Are you Tristan?” The description he’d received for the fellow knight he’d be meeting up for the request matches him well enough. He’s really good, phenomenal, there’d be no one better, from what he’d been told. He’s not one to distrust someone’s faith in someone else, but he’d be willing even if they didn’t know him well. “I’m Link, were you briefed already?”

@archers

                    “That’s correct.. and you would be...” 

                    His voice trails off just as he begins to inquire for his name in return. From the description he was briefly given days earlier, the young man before him must have been the knight he was asked to accompany on a supposed treacherous quest. Sure enough he states his name seconds after his assumption. With a smile now crossing his features, the knight’s lips part to address the young man before him yet again. 

name: tristan ( he more or less goes by that here ) race: he’s still himself physically! no changes whatsoever!  alliance: since ordinarily he looks human, everyone will consider him aligned with the Opalarian kingdom! that’s also where he regains consciousness! appearance: he still looks the same appearance wise as i’ve said! he still retains his armor too! occupation: upon waking up, he quickly finds out that he’s a respected knight who isn’t personally aligned with the kingdom but is seen and known for doing various tasks on his own accord that still benefit the kingdom! like taking on brigands... or something! along with his knighthood, he’s also known for his musical talents!  abilities: all of his unlocked abilities he has, which is mainly why i’ve kept him a servant!  event abilities: he has none!

浪人 – “I have a very important question! Does what happen in this fantasy world stay in this fantasy world?”

“Like if you reached a mutual agreement and did this or that with a pretty elf or a mermaid or dragon would you be judged when things go back to normal? Hmm…”

        “Certainly not.” Even in the face of imminent death, he would gladly play a melody fitting for their demise if she so asked for it. That was the type of man she remembered him being. “You may speak freely, Sir Tristan. I will halt my impulses if it serves you well.” She speaks with the same, noble dialect he remembers – with some attention, however, he’ll notice how haunting her words now sound, as if encrypted in the language of ghosts.

        “Your advice may prove beneficial for me. I am in no state to fight. A mere civilian I can best, but do you believe me capable of overthrowing a man like the King of Conquerors with so little powers in tow? He is a most… worthy opponent.” 

                    “... Advice? You would like my advice?” Oddly enough, he had felt a sense of happiness but also dread; the thought of giving out the wrong suggestion, or even slightly disappointing her weighed on his mind. She might have given him leave to speak freely, and yet in this very moment, he had a difficult time coming up with one sentence, let alone advice.