King of Knights

         “I didn’t exactly stop to ask what they were summoning something for, you know,” she replies, lifting a brow at him. “Kind of busy trying not to get murdered and all that. Or worse. I’m sure it’ll be easy to find out though. I just have to make a few calls first.”

Of course. The person to be his Master would be someone like this. Arrogant. Self-serving. Someone with their nose pointed so high they couldn’t see whatever would be in front of them. And even worse, she didn’t even know what his presence even meant. What was it for? Looking at his hands, he could feel something was off. Nonetheless, Excalibur would dissipate from his grasp as he walked past the bodies of fallen mages. They simply had the wind knocked out of them.

It was sad that even the slightest exposure to his prana would incapacitate them. Even in this world, there should be mages that could compete with him as a heroic spirit. As he guided his Master to the exit of the Clock Tower, he would continue past the exit. In full garb and armor, he would walk past civilians even. Did this servant have any sense of tact at all? Eventually, he would come to a stop at a table outside a small cafe.

Sitting in the metal chair would cause some rather uncomfortable noises to occur from it scraping against his suit of armor. Even if Riruka decided to order him into his spirit form, one look at his face would tell her that wouldn’t happen. As people walked by and stared, Arthur would close his eyes. The mid-afternoon sun felt quite nice. It was good to know the place which contained Camelot was comfortable.

“You no longer need to worry about being murdered, Master. So if you would, please make your calls. I’d rather not fight within the city in broad daylight...but a few hundred casualties for the grail isn’t all too uncommon.”

The King of Knights would rest his head on his armored hand and wait for his next set of orders. But in the meantime, a waitress would walk by with a nervous look on her face. Who in their right mind would want to help the intimidating armored man. And before she could even ask what the pair would like, he would open his eyes to acknowledge her existence.

“Hot chocolate. Two shots of espresso.....please.”

         “Alright,” she concedes, stepping up at his side after carefully avoiding the slowly seeping blood and crossing her arms. Cocking a hip, she sizes him up, expectant, and lets one brow rise in slow expectation. Her downturned mouth relaxes, only to purse into something akin to a pout. “Escort away. Just… no more killing people on the way out. This is going to be hard enough to deal with as it is.”

Well. At least this woman had enough experience not to lose it at the sign of a few corpses. It was very apparent she had an attitude. This was something he was not willing to deal with. She would be painful and he would simply fill himself with contempt. But for now, his aim was to leave this place. Obviously, they were in a secure place full of people she didn’t want to deal with. He would pick up his cape and reattach it to his shoulders. Blood collecting on the end of the cape would drag on the floor behind him. A very unique red carpet for his Master to follow.

Stairs upon stairs would lead only into pitiful magecraft traps. Thaumaturgy was all but naught in the eyes of a saber class servant usually. And while his existence was slightly skewed into a lower rank, this still meant nothing to him. Once exposed to the light of day, he would be pelted with more magecraft. It was the equivalent of a light slap to the face at this point. Spells meant to maim, kill, and disintegrate other humans was all for naught.

Excalibur, usually a golden sword which guided all in Arthur’s wake to victory, would only emit a threatening black prana. The fog of black prana would ooze out from his existence even. While he didn’t feel as agile as he wished, his defensive capabilities were much higher. Taking a breath and swinging his sword with one arm would cause a cone of prana to rush over the crowd. The pinnacle of servants lie within the saber class, but even this was rather excessive.

“Move.”

A singular command allows him to gain passage. But in his mind, as he looked around himself. He felt as if there was a presence within the mages. Rather, he felt a presence within these grounds. Almost as if there were a singular existence simply letting him gain passage. The feeling irked him, but nonetheless, he would wait for his master to follow him in suit. Stepping on the unconscious as if he were walking within his own quarters.

“Master. Your ilk are rather feeble these days. I don’t really see a point in letting them live. Nevertheless, if this is all for the grail....”

It was with that statement, the Saber class servant would stop in his tracks. He felt nothing. No attachment to the grail or any notion of the sort.

         Fingertip pressing into black iron, she presses, but he doesn’t even wobble, and she huffs out an irate grumble, pressing her entire palm against his breastplate.          “At least you had the sense to choose me over these scrubs, though I don’t know if ‘sense’ is really the word… Come on, we have to go before anyone else shows up.” A grimace crosses her face then, looking back at the other mages. “We should probably make sure they won’t remember me first though.”

She shouted, nay, spat the words at his face. It was quite unpleasant. Perhaps she was better off gagged than given the free will to converse. As he perused the female’s existence further, she would shout something at him again. Was he supposed to end in the possession of those men behind him? This would be a rather standard occurrence. For whatever reason or another, she disturbed this ritual and pilfered the King of Knights from someone else.

Though, as she placed her hand on his armor, he felt no force from her at all. This was the physical extent of his master? Disappointing. Magi were not the type to ever be physically proficient unless they made themselves to be so. Was that sentence of hers an order?

“We should probably make sure they won’t remember me first though.”

Arthur stood upwards and changed the grip upon his sword. Making his way to his unconscious victims, he would make two quick swinging motions. Decapitation. Without a moment of hesitation, the floor around them began to stain with blood. Twisting his own neck, an audible cracking noise would burst forth.

“Ugh...done. What’s next, Master? I’m sure you at least have a plan for getting yourself out of here. If not, I will escort you.”

started following you

         She hadn’t thought she’d find herself pinned to a basement wall while another magus started up the chant for a summoning, the charred remains of the catalyst they’d meant to use at her feet. Apparently leveraging that had been a bad idea…

         But not nearly so bad as the one that came to mind as she grabbed the arms of the man holding her against the wall, jerking herself forward, forehead meeting his hard enough to loosen his grip. It’s enough to wrench herself away, scrambling for the circle, magic called up into her fingertips as she frantically murmurs the summoning chant under her breath, trying to beat out the more composed magus before the circle. A shout of ‘catch her!’ sounds behind her, but a quick surge to her legs and she’s out of reach, touching down briefly (carefully) in a blank spot in the circle before skimming across to the other side and slamming her hand down against the outer edge–

         “–Come forth from the ring of restraints, Protector of the Holy Balance!”

         Eyes slamming shut, she registers bright light, the other two mages in the room stilling, startled. Riruka herself doesn’t dare open her eyes until the light has dimmed, the first thing that registers being the intricate symbol on the back of her hand. Immediately, her head jerks up, triumphant, and hopes she’ll only see one figure in the summoning circle instead of two.

         This might still just go her way.

Summoning a servant can almost be seen as a beacon of light to some. A second chance at life and a chance to do something more. For Arthur, this was no different. There was some beyond him that must be contained and if it had to be done through the throne of heroes, so be it.Through different means, he could arrive at a different point in his life. A different time. A different life lived all together. But, this light called out to him and so he would answer. A sword once golden at his side, Arthur Pendragon would answer the call.

Clad in armor from head to toe, the once and future king would stand tall. Meeting the gaze of a man, he would scan his surroundings. Behind would be a young woman and he could immediately recognize the bond. That same binding feeling only made his stomach churn. But as the smoke cleared, it wouldn’t be the same King of Britain one would imagine.

Dark armor adorned with red accents cursed the man’s body. His complexion was pale, eyes were a ghastly yellow hue, and the gleaming blonde hair one would expect was but the color of ash. The male magi squawked behind him as Arthur began to open his mouth. It was all meaningless dribble to him. But the more they shouted and hollered, the angrier he became. Without any warning, his armored hand would collide with one and the butt of his sword collided with another. Sufficient force to knockout a human was well within his ability. It was more surprising he didn’t just cut their heads off.

Adjusting his neck, the King would relinquish the fur cape from his shoulders. His armored digits would clasp around Riruka’s wrist so he could look at her seals directly. Tch. A sound of slight disapproval escaping his lips would be plenty audible in the room for Riruka to hear. But he would lower himself to meet her face and she would come face to face with something far from “pure” and “good”.

“I need not even ask. Without a doubt, you are my Master. Lackluster but....”

Fingers would trace her figure down to the skirt which hid her thighs.

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