2439/Many Faces

Many Faces
Date of Scene:	12 June 2015
Location:	Dun Realtai
Synopsis:	Project MORDRED and Saber have a friendly duel near Dun Realtai, with a little bit of an audience.
Cast of Characters:	12, 346, 662, Sanary Rondel, 804

---

Saber (346) has posed:
     Summer had finally returned to Dun Realtai after a supernaturally long winter, once the natural spring season was allowed to run its course. Many of the trees of the tangled forest beyond the lakes seemed dead, though the air which had once been hauntingly silent was now filled with the buzzing and chirping of insects. Life was slowly returning, though it would take some time...and more than a little assistance from its new caretakers and their allies.

     Much of the surrounding moors had yet to recover, as well. Some small weeds had managed to take root, the very first signs of life of a ravaged land, but for the most part it remained barren and uncultivated. In the distance, the green of Dun Realtai's fields and forests stood in stark contrast, three banners subtly stirring in the wind from the parapet of the keep, though difficult to make out the devices from this distance. The figures of villagers could be glimpsed in the fields among the cereal crops, in the pastures tending to livestock, or along the roadways into the village seated on the hill. The village itself was surrounded by the rubble of what had once been a protective wall. Some of the sections had been rebuilt, but the condition of them hinted at what could only have been something large indeed which had destroyed them. In all, almost a scene out from the distant past of Britain's countryside.

     Which was why it was all the more odd with what sped out from the ruined gates along the half-ruined stone paving of the road. Even more strangely, the villagers either paid no heed to the armoured Yamaha V-Max or even waved to its rider, who waved back to them before reaching the heath where the road seemed to crumble away into gravel. Yet, this did nothing to slow the motorbike down, its petite blonde rider having no more trouble with it than on the road. In fact, how was such a tiny person able to steer a machine of that bulk effortlessly?

     The leonine roar of the motorbike's engine faded to a dull purr as the rider pulled it to a stop in the middle of the heath before dismounting and straightening the black gloves on her hands. Or his, perhaps? The rider was dressed in a tailored three-piece black suit and tie with a soft grey dress shirt and brown loafers, with long flaxen hair pulled back into a low ponytail. Too feminine to truly be a man but yet too masculine to be a woman, the rider simply waited patiently for...something.

Project MORDRED (804) has posed:
At the same time, from the opposite direction, a big humanoid machine. Sleek black, with heraldic designs indicating the eldest son of the high king of earth on its chest. Glare-NT avoids the issues of rough terrain through the simple method of not touching the ground, thrusters keep the big machine flying smooth towards the point of indicated meaning. Once it arrives, and lands with a gentle 'thud' the chest opens up, and MORDRED unbuckles himself before jumping out and to the ground.

Once there, he bows. No kneeling, however. "Your majesty." He greets, then rises up straight again, a subtle sign that although he might acknowledge Saber's royalty, he does not acknowledge her to be -his- king, nor does he acknowledge her as being much superior in social status. "I have been told I would be informed about Brehon Law when I'd arrive, and I would also insist on making sure we're both operating under the same rules when it comes to our duel."

Sanary Rondel has posed:
     Hearing of the pending duel between MORDRED and Saber, Sanary's shows up as promised in case any medical work needs to be done afterwards. Not that she really knows much about the more scientific aspects of healing or how to fix mechanical suits, but whatever works works. Plus, she did promise to bring curry, conveniently stored in a heavy paper bag inside a larger plastic bag for support (and handles).

     Sanary, much like Saber, is also dressed in her own three-piece suit, colored purple instead of black, and wearing a simple black eyepatch with her hair tied back into a low ponytail. If not for her voice being recognizable by some, it might even be hard to tell by appearances alone that she's... Well, a she. Unlike the cool and collected Saber, however, the healer's looking significantly more... Sweaty. It'd be hard not to, considering how she had hiked over to the designated location in a goddamn suit carrying a bag full of curry and eating supplies.

     "Shoulda... Ditched the vest... ! Uh. H-hey, there." She takes a moment to wipe her forehead off with a handkerchief before offering MORDRED and Saber a formal bow. "Hope I'm not late or anything... Ah. Sir Bedivere, right? Have either of you see Lady Saber around yet?"

Fake Avenger (662) has posed:
     This is what he lived for.

     'Lives' is no longer the proper term to describe the entity that wears the name Kojirou Sasaki, and hasn't been for a very long time. Even in the early days of his second life, he didn't truly live. He was naught but a gate guard for the most important gate in the world, standing on a battlefield against Heroes and Titans with naught but a blade in his hand. He had no ability to leave that stairwell, and, in truth, he had no real desire. He was but an insubstantial wisp, content to play out the short week of his existence and then fade away, as if he had never been in the first place. He was a ghost who existed, and nothing more.

     And then...

     And then...

     Well, that doesn't really matter. A thousand years later, and the thing that calls itself Kojirou Sasaki still doesn't really live - it exists, dwelling on the Earth like a lost soul that has no sanctuary, without joy, without sorrow, without all the pieces that make a man a man. The Avenger-class Servant's one and only vice, that which he delights in, that which still stirs the echoes of the soul, is battle. His life was spent in pursuit of it; his death was spent in pursuit of it; and now the insubstantial wisps of his existence are stretched through the multiverse in hopes of finding those rare few opponents who might show him something beautiful and different enough to give him the respite he seeks.

     As people gather to watch MORDRED and Saber fight, Avenger simply appears. Reality seems to stutter around him; one minute there is nothing, not even footprints in the dirt, and the next, the purple-haired swordsman in the purple kimono exists, leaning against a nearby rock, the black-and-red markings along his body seeming to twitch and writhe forcefully into new patters.

     Kojirou pushes off the rock with the grace of a ghost. His feet barely touch the barren landscape as he glides over to examine the motorcycle with a cursory, and frankly sort of pretend, interest. He's seen them before, but the tenets of bushido require politeness.

     The monster straightens, that mysterious, distant, unearthly smile on his face. Then he bows in classic Japanese style, and moves out of the way of the battlefield without a word.

Mordred (12) has posed:
    Mordred-- the Servant, Saber of Red-- does not make a grant entrance, but rather materializes next to Avenger, appearing out of blue and red wisps of mana and thin air otherwise. She's been to Dun Realtai a number of times, and what with Bedivere's vows, and her own when she swore she would start behaving better and even help Arturia rebuild the Round Table of that was her wish, it's not like she's entirely unwelcome or a stranger here.

    But since Bedivere and Arturia are collectively better leaders and people-persons, most of the work she would have helped with, if any, is physical labor. God bless being a Servant for that.

    As she appears, the five foot tall midget of a knight dons a pair of shorts, with a blue and gold sweater, a really cool blue and gold scarf, and a baseball cap on her head. For all intents and purposes she's a slightly tinier, slightly younger Saber.

    She proceeds to hand a rose to Avenger.
    It has no petals and still has its thorns.

    Presumably there's a message in that.

Saber (346) has posed:
     The expression on Saber's face was otherwise neutral as what could only be a mecha arrived, save for a light touch of curiosity. Though not unheard of in the multiverse, it wasn't every day the diminutive knight saw one..especially not in the remote and deliberately low-tech Dun Realtai.

     It was just as well MORDRED didn't kneel; she honestly would have been uncomfortable. Even the Knights of the Round Table rarely did, save for a very special occasion. Moreover, she wasn't his king. Instead, she smiled and bowed herself, one arm over her torso in a proper formal bow. Apparently, she was pleased at being of equal status, knight to knight. "I greet you, Sir Mordred. Though the ancient laws of Albion are rather complex, it is the Law of Hospitality which is observed. Once Hospitality has been extended to a guest, we as the hosts are forbidden from committing violence against a guest. Similarly, the host is forbidden from violence against his guests. No unreasonable demands may be made of a host; a host must provide food and lodgings appropriate to his or her station."

     She inclined her head slightly. "If, after our duel, you have need of respite, we are obligated to extend it to you. However, I must insist upon the Law of Hospitality; these are a people of peace and have been through much."

     She blinked slightly in surprise, as if she had been assuming that /of course/ they were going to be held to the same rules. "We are knights, and so we are equally bound by the sacred virtues of chivalry, is that not correct?"

     And then Sanary arrived...and thought she was Sir Bedivere. Somewhere, the marshal was likely horrified and would have been flailing hopelessly had he been directly present. "Ah...greetings. I am Saber. Sir Bedivere is attending to other matters." And probably pacing at the idea of her current outing. Poor Bedivere.

     The arrival of Servants was not something she could ignore even as they arrived. She bowed politely -- in Japanese style, no less -- but the expression in her jade eyes was distrustful, apprehensive. The Saber of Red, by contrast, drew a hailing wave.

Project MORDRED (804) has posed:
MORDRED's face turns into the vague hint of a smile. "Yes, I would assume that we would be bound by the same rules, and I am familiar with codes of hospitality and chivalry." He straightsens himself fully, though with no apparent intent to intimidate. The man is tall, but relaxed in his formal stiffness. "I'm merely not sure if the duels you're accustomed to employ the same rules, given that, well..." He glances towards Glare-NT, "I've been led to believe you do not duel in anything like what I would call 'Armour.' I wouldn't want to cause any ill will due to an innocent mistake in differing rules of engagement when it comes to duelling."

He looks to see the others arrive, and smiles at each of them. He only addresses Mordred, "Sir Me, I presume?" He bows lightly, slightly less deeply than he bowed to Saber, but the difference is nearly imperceptible. It is however, intentional.

Sanary Rondel has posed:
     Sanary realizes her mistake the moment Saber starts to speak, but hearing it straight from the woman's (not man's!) mouth somehow makes it worse. "Wait, you're.. Oh! Shi-uh. Sorry. You looked like-I mean. Er." Flustered by the whole thing, she takes a moment to take a deep breath before stepping back to offer Saber another bow.

     "Sanary Rondel. Great to finally meet you in person, Lady Saber." The bow and the greeting are well-practiced, at least, even if she had been a little messed up earlier. She turns to Mordred with another bow for good measure. "Good seeing you again, too, MORDRED. I.. Uh. Don't think I actually met you in person yet, either."

     Hefting the bag a little while glancing over at the servants, she stares at Avenger and Saber of Red for a moment before raising a hand in greeting. "I'll be over there, then. Once you're done with the fight, I'll come in and take care of the injuries. And food." She wiggles the bag once, then scurries over to get out of the dueling area before greeting the servants with another bow as well.

Fake Avenger (662) has posed:
     Kojirou takes the rose in between its thorns without much effort. Servants with even low Agility could probably grab it without trouble. He fiddles with it for a moment, contemplative, apparently not noticing the apprehensive stare of Arturia, or Sanary's hand-wave. The rose finally elicts a laugh, almost half a minute later, as if Kojirou is only just now getting the joke.

     It is not a pleasant laugh. It isn't *unpleasant*, either; not menacing, nor deep, nor angry, nor any particular shade of emotion at all. It's just sort of there. It's a human laugh, but it's a human laugh with all the joy sucked out of it - a sort of 'oh, ha ha, that's clever!' without actual appreciation for the sentiment. He fiddles with the rose a moment longer, then discards it to the ground and clears the duelling area. He does not seem to take any particular interest in the food.

Saber (346) has posed:
     A faint smile broke through Arturia's neutral mask. "Your manners are most impressive. I would imagine that your chivalry is similarly so." Her smile shifted slightly, bordering on the wolfish. Oh yes, she was pleased, indeed. "However, there is no need to hold back on my account."

     The wind seemed to kick up around the short suit-clad girl until blinding light enveloped her for what seemed not even a moment before she was no longer clad in her suit, but her blue-etched battle armour and blue dress, her hair bound up into a braid-encircled bun fastened with a blue ribbon.

     The smile remained. Saber might not be the same level of stab-happy that her homunculus 'son' was, but there were hints about where the Saber of Red got her thirst for a good challenge came from. "I look forward to matching my sword to that of another knight."

     Her smile for Sanary was softer, gentler. "Well-met, Lady Sanary. But there is no need to apologise. My appearance is intentional." What she said next was likely not going to calm the healer, though. "Lady Yari speaks most highly of you."

     And naturally, if she brought food, she was already on Arturia's list of Good People, Confederate or not. "You have my gratitude," she replied with a smile.

     From her distance, she almost pitied Kojirou, even as she knew how dangerous he was. All he existed for, it seemed, was the battle. It was entirely unlike her own enjoyment of the friendly match she was about to partake in now, the test of strength, skill, and wits.

     With another bow, Saber summoned Excalibur, rendered invisible within its Bounded Field of the Wind King. "I am ready."

Mordred (12) has posed:
    "Yo, Sir Me," Mordred confirms, returning the bow unusually politely for how she typically speaks. She doesn't hold herself quite straight, and definitely not with the stature of a knight, but for a brief moment there she looks like she belongs. Might be her short size and lack of armor.

    Sanary gets a grin. "Aww yeah, food. Now you're speaking my language. Let's raid a buffet after this." Between her and Arturia, it's going to be a devastating, powerful blow to a restaurant.

    Avenger laughing it off and then not stating interest in food earns a mild frown, but oh well, neither the time or place for this. But then it's time to rumble, and Mordred follows Avenger to the sidelines. She regains her grin and smile at the sight of Saber getting ready for a challenge-- because it's true. Flor all Mordred is a bloodthirsty savage when she unchains herself, she got it from somewhere. Saber's got a mean, mean competitive streak. This'll be good.

    Besides, seeing the Armour in action is cool too.

Project MORDRED (804) has posed:
MORDRED's smile broadens, still faint but now more than a mere hint of a smile. "Thank you, Sir Saber, or is it Lady Saber? I can accomodate whichever you'd prefer." Glare-NT kneels, allowing MORDRED to enter it easily. After it closes, but before MORDRED is done preparing himself for battle, he answers Sanary. "I saw you were with Lady Gorgon last night, while I was across the hall, but otherwise, no. We had not yet met prior. I look forward to your cooking, I'm sure it will be delicious."

MORDRED finishes strapping and takes a few steps back, allowing for some room between himself and the strange and unfamiliar version of his father. The Monofilament Broadsword on the Armour of Peace's hip is drawn, and held with the tip pointed at the ground. One sharp edge towards Saber, ready to lash forwards at an instant's notice. "As am I, let us commence." MORDRED gives his opponent only a brief moment after this, almost immediately moving forward. A quick jab, careful not to leave any openings, testing Saber more than anything else. An exploratory strike, nothing more.

Saber (346) has posed:
     "Merely 'Saber' will suffice...though many seem to prefer 'Lady Saber', but I do not object to either. In truth, I would prefer what is most comfortable for you."

     As was proper, she waited until Mordred had settled into his Armour properly. Doing otherwise would have been a disgrace. Besides which, it was hardly the long ritual of donning physical armour of her era...at least before becoming a Servant and being able to summon it at a moment's notice.

     Dropping into an en garde stance with her two-handed sword behind her, she was ready as the Armour moved forward, and just in time. Mechanical armour could be unwieldy in her experience, but this version was surprisingly fast. And he didn't leave openings, either. Oh, he was very good.

     Instead of parrying, Saber blurred into motion, too fast for the naked human eye, evading with a smooth motion more appropriate for a dancer than a fighter. Nothing fancy, but much more graceful than the usual warrior. Even as she evaded, she tested his defences with a jab of her own. Even if he left no openings, could she make one?

     Saber couldn't keep the grin off her face. This was definitely going to be fun.

Project MORDRED (804) has posed:
Human eyes, assisted by inhuman sensors and an inhuman mind. MORDRED's motions aren't as fast as Saber's, and he's put on the defensive right away; but, he is fast enough that forcing an opening is tough. He doesn't parry this first jab either, instead he jumps, flipping around in mid-air before landing opposite his previous position relative Saber. If his face was visible, people could notice a look of pure joy. Alas. it's not, and he doesn't speak. As he lands, he takes advantage of gravity to assist a downwards strike. This time, he makes no attempt at a soft landing, creating a small crater as the ground creaks to accomodate that mass.

Saber (346) has posed:
     Nope, it wasn't going to be that easy. But then, Saber would have been disappointed if it had been. Relying on the strength and speed of one's mechanical armour was common enough, and the Servant could easily best an opponent who did. Mordred, on the other hand, was obviously skilled and canny enough to know better. Other than her spars with her own knights, the last time she had faced such a skilful opponent would probably have to have been Lady Agrias. At this rate, she was going to regret when it was all over.

     The Armour was fast, and she was a little surprised at how quickly it went airborne...and with an amazing amount of agility, no less. In fact, she had to employ more than a little of her own to evade, leaping out of the way and somersaulting backwards to avoid being cratered.

     Saber wasn't especially effective at range, though, so she needed to close the gap. Using a partial release of Wind King to propel her forward, Saber shot forward with a last-minute pirouette to build torque, lashing out with an arcing horizontal strike.

Project MORDRED (804) has posed:
A Knight who relies on solely his Armour would stand no chance against the High King, MORDRED is well aware. The Armour is dumb, the Knight ought to be smart. Still, the next attack is unexpected, and MORDRED's response is late as a result, his monofilament broadsword manages to deflect it downwards in the nick of time, barely preventing Excalibur from digging into his armour. MORDRED uses the speed of his opponent's strike to assist his own high torque move, thrusters barely lift him off the ground and speed up a three sixty degrees turn, the massive blade barrelling towards Saber as the rotation finishes.

Saber (346) has posed:
     The hearts of men become overconfident when wielding powerful weapons or within armour which seems unbreakable. As far as Saber was concerned, it was a testament to the knight's temperance and wisdom, not to mention his skill as a warrior, that he understood the need for skill and control. Not to mention suppressing overconfidence.

     The Sword of Promised Victory was successfully deflected downward, another impressive manoeuvre. He could think fast on his feet.

     She was also glad that the Mordred who had been born from her was watching. She could learn a thing or two about technique. The Saber of Red /probably/ wouldn't apply it, but at least she could learn.

     Especially at the manoeuvre the male Mordred pulled off. Her eyes widened slightly even as she moved by instinct. It would have been insane for an un-Armoured human to attempt what Arturia did, but one of the advantages of the Saber-class was their strength.

     Even while she evaded what she could, the Servant nevertheless would have gotten a good blow at her back if she hadn't parried the monofilament broadsword. In spite of her strength, it was nevertheless a struggle, gritting her teeth even as she held it at bay for her counterstrike.

     Using that momentum, she turned under the blade itself in a spiralling motion before spinning again, following the natural motion into a diagonal strike downward. However, it wasn't as fast as her previous one, and avoidable if he thinks fast enough.

Project MORDRED (804) has posed:
And though MORDRED thinks fast, he's just a fraction of a second too slow, a moment of hesitation as he is torn between two moves. In a real fight, it might not have been much more than a scratch, but it was a hit, and it penetrated armour. There is no way for MORDRED to pretend otherwise, the cut is there to see, leaking small drips of coolant fluid. "First blood goes to you, Sir Saber." MORDRED concedes, and immediately arrests his motion, returning his sword to the sheath at the Armour of Peace's hip. "You are a very capable swordsman, I am glad to see your skill matches your reputation."

Saber (346) has posed:
     It had been a quick match, though longer than many true battles. In truth, her match against Lancer -- Diarmuid Ua Duibhne -- had probably not lasted much longer. Not before Rider had come barging in to offer places to both of them in his Peerless Army. It had been more than just a little insulting at the time, but the years had worn off that sting a little.

     But even still, it had been invigorating. Dismissing Excalibur, Saber bowed as before, though her grin was plain to see. "It pleases me that I did not disappoint you," she replied. "You yourself are a swordsman of no small skill. I should be honoured to cross blades again with you sometime."

     Straightening, she believed that she had her answer. "I welcome you as a guest to Dun Realtai."

Project MORDRED (804) has posed:
MORDRED leaves Glare-NT again, returning the bow once he has his feet on the ground, his face showing undisguised joy at the duel, even though he lost. "Thank you. I'm glad to hear my practice at arms has not been wasted." He looks towards the food brought by Sanary, then snaps his gaze back towards Saber "And I accept your hospitality. It's good to have company, my home gets lonely at times." He takes a good look around the place, the dun. "It's not the kind of place I'm used to, and I don't know if I'll stick around for long, but I could see myself spending some time here. It looks lovely."

Sanary Rondel has posed:
     Sanary's legs were still a little shaky as the duel came to a sudden end, the healer having a great deal of trouble just following what was going on. She had taken her suit jacket off and held it over her shoulder while watching the exchange with rapt attention, setting the bag of curry and other edibles on the ground beside herout of safety for the food stuffs.

     "S... So. Uh. Did either of you follow any of that?" She casts a quick glance at Modred and Kojirou, still looking somewhat excited over what she had just witnessed. She's winding down, at least, and she eventually scoops up the bag of food before starting to head back to the dueling area.

     "Great work out there! Even with swords, that was /really/ impressive. All that fast movement even with the size of... EVERYTHING." Grinning broadly, she adjusts her eyepatch before glancing between MORDRED and Saber. "Should probably practice wit hmine more... Anyway. Either of you need healing? Or..."

     Sanary raises the bag. There's a faint smell of bread and spices coming from it. "Ready to eat?"

Fake Avenger (662) has posed:
     Kojirou's eyes slowly track to Sanary.

     "Yes," Kojirou replies calmly, then turns his gaze back to the two duelists.

     It's over. It was a brief flash, a brief moment - a moment of such surpassing brevity that he almost didn't notice it. Not the strike, of course - no, Kojirou was perfectly aware of the strike, of the spiralling evasion, of the careful slash, of the parry; Kojirou could not help but be aware of the fight.

     But the joy of it was so pathetically fleeting, so brief, he could not help but find it falling short. Some part of him - some dark pulse in the back of his still mind, unrelated to that which had taken up root in him - wanted to see more blood.

     Kojirou's eyes sink shut.

     Hah hah. More like me every day.

     The ever-present smile fades to a brief frown. It's just as distant, and strange, and detached as his other expressions are.

     Kojirou plays the fight over again in his mind. The motion of Excalibur narrowly missing the armor; the parry of the massive blade; the spinning dodge, the counter-strike. Kojirou plays it over and over, trying to retain the instant of joy, the instant of revelry, the flow of blood and the art of the sword.

     You wanted them to die.

     Kojirou's frown deepens.

     Admit it. You wanted to see somebody die. It's okay. I won't judge you.

     Kojirou's eyes open, and his smile returns. But it seems, again, strained, as if something is intruding on the peace he always carries with him.

     "You were slow," Kojirou informs MORDRED thoughtfully, "You leaned upon 'first blood' and did not take risks to win. You thought, and did not act."

     His eyes track over to Arturia. "You are rusty. When we fought, you dared, took risks. You dove into the lion's maw and plunged forth from the other side, defying expectations. Again, you leaned upon 'first blood' like a crutch. You wasted motion and allowed him to control the range of the duel because you knew that it was not to death."

     Kojirou's eyes slide skywards, the distant smile on his face. "Is that," he asks no one, "What you wanted to hear?"

     Getting there. You admire them too much.

     Kojirou chuckles again.

     One day I'll break you of that admiration.

     "I very much doubt that," Kojirou continues. It probably sounds like a continuation of 'what you wanted to hear.'

     Give me time. We have all the time in the world.

     Kojirou shrugs.

Saber (346) has posed:
     "Not at all," Arturia replied, still grinning. "They are quite impressive, in fact. Too often those with powerful weapons and armour rely on them too much and neglect their skills. It was most delightful to see that you have not neglected those skills."

     She turned her face back to the village and keep, her smile becoming softer, indulgent. "We have sought to make this place into a haven, a place of respite. It is a neutral ground where any may come and go regardless of affiliation, as long as its sanctity is respected. All who have been guests have behaved impeccably, so I have no reason to change our ways."

     Saber shook her head. "I do not believe so. You are free to enjoy the hospitality of Dun Realtai, Lady Sanary," she replied, dismissing her armour and standing in her three-piece suit once more. It demanded no small amount of willpower not to dive into the food immediately, particularly given how it smelled.

     "Then, shall we..."

     Unfortunately, good times were cut short by Kojirou making her paranoid. He had met her before last year's autumn ceilidh, battled her? Her eyes widened as she stiffened, her expression carved from stone. "It was an honourable match between knights," Saber explained, keeping her voice even and paranoia out of it. "There is no purpose to killing for the sake of killing, especially when such strength and skill is useful."

     It /sounded/ as of he had been addressing them, but she wasn't entirely sure. It could be that Kojirou was simply mad...or something else.

Project MORDRED (804) has posed:
MORDRED seems uncertain who exactly some of Kojirou's comments are aimed at, but he doesn't mention it. Instead, he simply says, "Fighting until first blood necessitates different strategies from fighting until death, or even from fighting until one side yields. In such a duel, I would be willing to take wounds if I believed it would allow me to inflict comparatively more harm upon my enemy." He starts to walk towards Sanary as it seems clear that food is where things are headed.

"This was not one such duel however, though it is similar in many respects, and strategies that take into account its rules will differ from strategies for duels that allow you to keep fighting after first blood." MORDRED keeps up his stance towards Kojirou, "I understand that you do not like duels that go merely until first blood, and that is your right; but your advice would not lead to better performance in this case." His gaze settles on Saber. "My father is a skilled Knight, and Calibur-N is an impeccable design. I need every edge I can get if I am to defeat him in a fair fight." There's an undercurrent there, a bit darker. It's clear from his tone that fight won't be until first blood. "But that is something for the future. Let's enjoy Lady Rondel's cooking, it smells delicious/"

Sanary Rondel has posed:
     Kojirou's remarks draw a long stare from the one-eyed healer, although instead of annoyance or anger...

     Sanary just slumps bit. "/That/ was slow? Damn... I really need to train more, then." The idea of moving even faster than Saber was moving is already quite a stretch for her, but... Well, maybe if she trains her eye enough? She could at least track movements like that better in the future.

     "How do you all train to get so fast and good at following other people moving that fast, anyway? Every time I fight someone fast, best bet for me has just been to hit them harder than they hit me." She chuckles lightly for a moment, patting herself on the chest lightly. "I mean, it works sometimes, but... Gotta improve so I'm not just using the one strategy, right?"

     Still, the food's not going to eat itself, and the healer seems more than prepared for it even out here! Pulling a small bundle, she unrolls that into a thin, yet fairly large blanket suitable for picnics! That, or she just stole one of the bedsheets from the Pleasure Palace.

     Either way, it's large enough to provide adequate space for the paper plates she starts setting out, then bread, and several quart-sized containers of... Brownish-orange substance. Judging from the smell, that is probably the curry. There's also a box of plastic spoons and forks along with a few sets of slightly higher quality, but still plastic chopsticks.

     "Fudou? Yeah, Fudou recommended trying something different with the potatoes this time, so it should look better than the usual. Dunno how it'll taste, but.. Yeah. Let's eat!"

Fake Avenger (662) has posed:
     Kojirou's eyes still seem incredibly distant as MORDRED and Saber speak to him. Then...

     "You pick up a sword," Kojirou observes, "And put blade to blade for the sake of testing each other. How will you test the metal if you cannot see its breaking-point? What you saw is not what you are - it is what you are when you hold back for the sake of 'first blood.'"

     Kojirou waves his hand thoughtfully in front of him. "What you want to see is not that. What you want to see is a display of your skill. What you want to see is the naked truth, the glory of your art taken to its highest form, where live and death are but a hair's breadth apart."

     He pushes off the rock and folds his hands into his sleeves. "What you displayed was a dance. A fine performance, but not a fight. Not a duel. And not a worthy test of either of your skills. I can tell simply from a glance that you are more skilled than you displayed. I hope that you will show me the full depth of those hidden skills when we fight."

     "If you do not attempt to kill me," Kojirou continues, "You will probably die."

     With that, Kojirou starts to drift away. He pauses, as if realizing something, then turns and bows to Arturia again. "Thank you for permitting me witness." Then he straightens, almost mechanically, and vanishes, reality hiccuping around him as the black twitching of the strange tattoo/scar/things fades away.

Saber (346) has posed:
     The Servant found herself nodding in agreement with the knight from the stars. It was a form of training, and the tactics were entirely different than on the battlefield against an enemy army. Still, it was somewhat closer to the battles between fellow Elites, which likewise necessitated a change in strategy. But this itself was both sport and learning experience, and both knights relished the challenge merely for the sake of challenge.

     Arturia didn't frown in disapproval at the hint of a far more serious match of Mordred against his father, however. Her expression seemed closer to something which might have seemed like regret. Yet, she didn't so much as speak, simply observing through slightly regretful eyes.

     "In all fairness, my lady, Servants have abilities well beyond those of mortals. And Sir Mordred's Armour likewise exceeds those limitations. However, no ill can come of the proper application of Exercitium. One must continue to train to exceed one's potential."

     Oh yes, Sanary is definitely on her Good People list. But before she seated herself with her practicesd regal elegance and opted for the chopsticks, there was still the issue of Kojirou. "It was merely a sport. As my fellow knight has said, it is your right to find such things not to your liking, but such as not the purpose of this match. But I am assured that, given a more absolute situation, Sir Mordred would be more than up to the demands. it is not unlike strong drink; some is enjoyable, but too much defeats the purpose."

     Hard sea-green eyes bored hard into the violet of Kojirou's. "But rest assured that when we face one another, I shall not be so restrained."

     Yet, for all her seriousness, she bowed in return. She was still unfailingly polite, after all.

Project MORDRED (804) has posed:
When he notices the regret in Saber's eyes, MORDRED looks away. He can't in good conscience not look away. He takes advantage of the discussion of speed, "In further fairness, Glare-NT does have sensory assistance, and that I have been training all my life to be the best Knight I can be. Consistent combat practice is part of that." MORDRED expands upon Saber's explanations of exceeding limitations, and turns to sit down and look at the food. He closes his eyes and and presses his hands together, his lips moving in a quiet murmur. "Bon appetit." He starts to reach for a set of utensils and a plate.

Sanary Rondel has posed:
     That information about Servants helps Sanary feel a little better. Sort of. "Huh... So I'd just need to become a Servant, then? And then I can use this Exercitum while... Training?"

     She's pretty sure she's mixing her terms up there. It doesn't worry her too much, though, especially since her attention is drawn back to Kojirou right when he does that reality-warping disappearing thing. She does a double take at the sight of that, her light sheen over her eye disappearing briefly as she cuts off the flow of magical energy to it before powering it back up again just to make sure she isn't seeing things.

     "... Gotta learn how to do that, too." Turning to to MORDRED next, she squints at him closely between turning to Saber, then at Mordred. "I mean, I'm pretty confident in my strength, but I don't have anywhere near that speed yet. Or..."

     She pauses, then stares right at MORDRED with an amused snicker. "Servants are a lot prettier than us, aren't they?"

Saber (346) has posed:
     In all fairness, the story of Arturia and the homunculus created from her was vastly different than that of a knight from the stars who grew up in exile. Their differences in gender, Saber suspected, were only the start. But if there was a way to prevent something of that tragedy, she was inclined to at least try.

     And it would seem there were other travesties to avert.

     "I...would not advise becoming a Servant," Saber replied. "One is never guaranteed a Master who is honourable, for one."

     On the other hand, she could discuss the Eight Virtues all day. "Exercitium is one of the Eight Virtues of chivalry," she explained, becoming more animated. "Training and the honing of skills is a lifelong endeavour for a knight, who must perform daily drills and maintain a fitness of form. Even if one is not a night nor even seeks to become one, the Virtues are useful for..."

     Prettier...wait, what? "Pardon?" Arturia asked with an owlish blinking of her eyes. She was still not quite used to being considered feminine or conventionally attractive.

Project MORDRED (804) has posed:
The story of John Arthur and the clone created from him is indeed quite different from that of Arturia and her relatives, but there are undeniable similarities, and perhaps the Arturia can change MORDRED's tragic fate. Only time will tell. "Do you have an equivalent to MerGN-A here as well?" His question is phrased neutrally, carefully avoiding showing any emotion when he names the Emergent he sees as his mother.

MORDRED is fairly close to the ideal of male attractivness, but that aside, he deflects the question with a simple statement, "We are warriors, what matters is not how good we look, but how well we fight." He then starts eating, it appears he is truly hungry, as his share disappears quickly. "This is delicious."

Sanary Rondel has posed:
     Perhaps luckily or unluckily for Sanary, she had never grown up with the stories of... Well, anything, really. Who had the time to indulge in stories when there were pigs to raise and bandits to drive off? On one hand, it gave her a blank slate to work with and to absorb all sorts of information coming her way. On the other hand, it left her somewhat naive to things that would be more obvious to others even with her fledgling education.

     "Oh... You don't get to choose? Damn. I mean, Souji's been a pretty good boss, but I don't think I'd go as far as calling him a Master or anything..."

    She listens to Saber speak of Exercitium intently, a slow nod being given every now and then before chuckling to herself. "Sounds like Yari, alright."

     What draws an unrestrained laugh from the healer is the combination of both MORDRED's and Arturia's reactions to appearances. "Well, that's not completely true. If you look good, it might make someone hesitate or get distracted in a life or death situation. Hell, I thought Lady Saber here was a cute butler when I showed up before."

     "... It's not fair." She droops just a bit, but doesn't let it get her down too much. Not when there's ego-stroking from MORDRED complimenting her cooking! "Is it? This is one of the few things I've learned how to make and not make it... Er. Awful, so I've been practicing a lot lately."

Saber (346) has posed:
    Arturia squinted slightly in concentration; the alien name seemed somewhat familiar. "There is someone with a similar name...Morgan le Fay. She is my half-sister...though my son and I are not on the best of terms with her. It is she who created Mordred from my...'dee en ay', I believe it is called?"

     She sighed softly. "Though perhaps it is unimportant...most likely, she had been dead for over a thousand years."

     That lack of knowing the stories likely worked to Sanary's advantage, actually. Too many people had expectations of King Arthur and the Round Table to necessarily square a tiny blonde girl who looked no older than fifteen with the image of a manly warrior-king. "A Servant is called from the Throne of Heroes. When a hero dies, he ascends to the Throne. During the Holy Grail War, these heroes are summoned as Servants to fight one another until only one remains. The final Servant is then ordered by his Master to kill himself to complete the filling of the Grail. The magi believe that once this is accomplished, the Greater Grail may be summoned and open a pathway to the Root of Existence."

     Yeah, Heaven's Feel sucks.

     She smiled fondly. "Lady Yari is a most noble person, with a strong sense of chivalry...or close to it, in any case." There were quite a number of Confederates she was personally fond of even without the presence of her magic-created clone. Inwardly, however, she worried about them; chivalry and honour seemed to be things that organisation merely tolerated and only for as long as it suited their goals. And the new Mordred seemed to be added to that list.

     "Indeed, this is most excelle..." And the flailing commenced at Sanary's description of her as 'cute'. Sputtering, the otherwise elegant King of Knights flailed slightly with her chopsticks in hand. "I-I...y-you must surely be mistaken, am assuredly not...my Lady Sandary is much more than I, surely..."

     So much for dignity.

Project MORDRED (804) has posed:
"Yeah, that sounds familiar." MORDRED says flatly, without emotion, when the rough story of Morgan le Fay is revealed. And then he latches onto the changing topic, "That sounds like an interesting scenario, though I wonder what the Root of Existence has to offer to justify the procedure. It must be significant if so much death of otherwise uninvolved people is deemed justified to achieve it." There's an eager curiousity there, a honest desire to learn on naked display.

"If someone hesitates because of the appearance of his enemy, then I question his skill as a warrior. Queen Valerie la Guin is one of the most beautiful women in the solar system, and also one of the most deadly." This is said with absolutely no inflection, a mere statement of fact. "Between her and L4-NC3-L07, I don't know who would win. Both are terrifying to behold on the battlefield."

Sanary Rondel has posed:
     Saber's recounting of the history of the Holy Grail War draws Sanary's complete attention, her eyebrow raising slowly by the time she gets to the end of general procedure of the war itself. She opens her mouth and closes it, taking a moment to eat some bread dipped in curry before sighing. "That sucks. Do you still have to that now? Because... Wow, that sucks. I don't even know if whatever reward it gives would be worth it unless..."

     She pauses for a moment. "... Unless it works like the Dragon Balls. Then you could undo all the deaths and still get something out of it." The gears are starting to turn, but just how far will that go?

     Not too far, apparently, since her attention is redirected by the flailing. Is Saber... Embarrassed? Oh, this is too good a chance to pass up. "Not a mistake at all! You've got a really nice face, beautiful hair, and a great..." She pauses to look Saber over, taking note of her suit before reaching out to pat her on the shoulder reassuringly.

     "I know your pain. But you still look great even without... You know." Granted, Sanary's wearing a chest binding under that suit, but still. Unity in numbers! "Don't you think, MORDRED? Hmm.. Think she could give your Queen Valerie a run for her money?"

Saber (346) has posed:
     The drop in the more 'refined' language made Saber raise her eyebrows...and yet, that might have been something closer to what her own 'son' needed. "I think perhaps the one who has truly suffered at her hands would be my son. I think that you would be a good friend to her. In many ways, we are mirror images of one another, and I think perhaps she could do with a friend."

     For all her seeming aloofness and the female Mordred's coarseness, Saber seemed to genuinely care for the homunculus created from her.

     "The magi of our world seek knowledge simply for the sake of knowledge," Arturia explained. "To be a magus is To Know. The Root is all that the world was formed from, and magi wish to return to it. I only learned of it recently, but that is the true purpose of the Holy Grail War."

     She shook her head at Sanary. "I had believed it to be not unlike them, in truth. I sought a wish, and I made my behest to the world to allow me the chance to realise it. But both my first Master and I had not realised the true purpose of Heaven's Feel."

     The names remained alien, but definitely familiar. "My queen, Guinevere, was no fighter. But she was beautiful and noble, and agreed to a marriage with another woman for the sake of the kingdom and to provide the image of a stable royal family. Sir Lancelot knew of the truth of my sex as well, and has always been a steadfast friend and exemplary knight."

     And yes, Saber was indeed Embarrassed. "N-not at all, Guin was a true beauty, and men from as far away as Cathay came merely for the sake of a glance..."

     The furious burning red complexion did absolutely nothing to help her situation. Not very kingly at all.

Project MORDRED (804) has posed:
"I'm not discounting that possibility, and I do need allies." MORDRED says calmly, deftly dodging talking about his mother again. "I can emphasize with the first for knowledge, I cannot emphasize with the lengths they seem to be willing to go for it." He sounds uncertain about something, and drifts back to the relatively comfortable topic of appearances. "Even if I did believe such things mattered, which I don't, it would be rude to compare so blatantly and directly. As such, I will not make any such judgments."

Sanary Rondel has posed:
     That was news to her. "You have a son? Her... Ah. O-of course." Sanary's just a little confused, although it does fade soon enough as she offers Saber a reassuring smile. "Never hurts to have more friends. But if you're mirror images... How will I know which one is you and which one is her?"

     There's a thoughtful look in her eye as Saber continues. "Mm... Who is your master, anyway? Er. Unless that's a personal question."

     She nods in agreement with MORDRED, taking another moment to chew on more bread. "Yeah, it does sound very... Convoluted. Seems like it might have been easier for them just to look for more knowledge instead of having people fight for... Something that might not be knowledge."

     Shrugging lightly, a mischievous grin comes over her face at the lady-king's blushing expression. "Lady Saber. There's nothing wrong with taking some time to look cute sometimes. How about... One day? You, me, Yari, and your son... Daughter? We all go somewhere to try another look for you. You too, MORDRED. Your face isn't bad, either..."

Saber (346) has posed:
     Arturia was aware of the deliberate evasion, considering her own familial issues. Her half-sister /hated/ her and blamed her for her father's indiscretions. Never mind that Uther had abandoned her to Merlin to deliver her to Sir Ector to be raised. Not that she had a single regret when it came to her life with the old knight, but to Arturia, Uther was no more than a distant relative. Her father, in her mind, was Ector.

     She couldn't help it, really. Arturia laid a light hand over Mordred's forearm. "Our worlds and our histories are so very different. I know nothing of your mother nor your father. But I ask that you try to look beyond what things appear to be. Do not make the same mistakes I did."

     With that, her hand fell away.

     Saber turned to Sanary then. "I believe that Sir Mordred -- the one who shares my appearance -- is what many in the multiverse term as a 'clone'. She is more akin to an identical twin in most ways, yet she was created from me."

     Her expression shifted only subtly into one of regret. "It is rather simple to tell us apart. Mordred is her own person. She is like me, but yet we are indeed different."

     Strangely, the following topic was much more comfortable. Perhaps not especially tactically-sound...but then again, even most modern magi were smarter than to mess around with an actual Knight of the Round Table. If she wasn't his king, she'd likely be scolded, but this had its advantages as well. And it was hardly as if this wasn't common knowledge. "It is not," Saber replied. "Sir Bedivere is my Master, now."

     On the matter of the folly of the magi, the Servant simply shrugged. "It would seem that some have exercised the wisdom in seeking it without such shortcuts," she replied, pausing to take a bite of a curried potato. After a moment of containing her bliss, she continued. "The Holy Grail itself appears to have become tainted, and certain magi have seen the folly in taking such shortcuts in lieu of their own studies."

     That elegance was short-lived, however. "Ah...well. I do not recommend such for Sir Mordred, as she is...but I...well...."

     Crap. Sanary wouldn't be the first, but poor Arturia simply could not acclimate to the idea that she might be feminine. At all.

Project MORDRED (804) has posed:
"Based on what I've heard and gathered, I would strongly advice reconsidering getting the other me involved in anything that could be construed as 'dolling her up.' The idea seems to have an adverse influence on her mood, and well..." And MORDRED looks uncomfortable with the idea himself, but he's too polite to mention that much. He changes the subject, "This is a nice little town you've built up, it's much more pleasant than Mercury Base."

Sanary Rondel has posed:
     Sanary raises her eyebrow curiously as she glances from Saber to MORDRED, the concept of their semi-shared, yet completely different pasts being rather intriguing to the girl. Granted, a lot of it didn't make sense without any context to work with, but... Well, there were probably records of these things lying around somewhere, right?

     "Oh... Uh. I know I heard that clone word once before. Twin, definitely. She seems like a nice enough person. Considering her... Uh. Parent twin?" The expression change doesn't go unnoticed, although the healer does have some manner of tact to avoid staying on that topic longer than necessary.

     She does gag briefly upon hearing that Bedivere is Saber's Master, managing a light snicker even in between bouts of coughing. "Really? I would've guessed it was the other way around, the way he talks."

     Turning to MORDRED, she laughs easily and devours the rest of her share of food. "Really? She was pretty cute, too, though. And you..." She pauses to stare at him. "... Maybe not cute, but the right outfit could work."

Saber (346) has posed:
     Saber's expression never changed, but she seemed to pale slightly. "Indeed..Sir Mordred...that is, my 'son', has a...well. She shares my form and my gender, but she possesses the mind and heart of a man."

     A sigh. "She has always been an exemplary knight, it is simply that...I had wished she was less as I was. She always possessed the potential, but I wanted something beyond reaching for my own failures." Self-loathing was a go.

     On the subject of Bedivere, her blushing was much more subtle...yet not without its own suggestions. Especially not with her fidgeting and blushing. "W-well...Sir Bedivere was a knight of my retinue, the Left Hand of the King, in fact. But as circumstances have played out, it became more beneficial that he become my Master...."

     Saber pounced on the next subject eagerly. "Ah, well. It was a most fortuitous turn of events. Sir Bedivere had received word of a remote village under assault from frost demons, and we came to drive them off. Yet, what we foud was that the demons were in truth the corrupted servants of the land's winter guardian. She made a request of us that we capture the land's previous lord, who had turned to the dark arts and corrupted her familiars, and turn him over to her. We did so, and she was able to return to her lake for a proper rest to await the next true winter. Similarly, she entrusted us with care of the land. And we have been its caretakers ever since."

Project MORDRED (804) has posed:
"If my warnings have failed to dissuade you, Lady Rondel, then all I shall request is that you do not share this plan with Sir Mordred while I remain in the vicinity." MORDRED takes a look towards the buildings. "It's a few seconds past seven minutes prior to a daily matter I need to attend to. Please forgive me, but I shall have to take care of this matter. Would you mind if I spent the night here? It's so much nicer than home."

Sanary Rondel has posed:
     Definitely best not linger on that topic for too long. Sanary stays quiet for a while before reaching over to give Saber a reassuring pat on the arm and a sympathetic grin.

     And more curry. There's still a few unopened quarts left! "If you two want, you could bring the leftovers back home. I can make this again whenever I want to try it again, so I'll more than enough for myself."

     Turning to MORDRED, she blinks slowly before letting out an understanding 'aah' and nodding her head. "Understood. Hmm... Yeah, I'll be careful not to bring that up around her, then. It was good talking to you finally, MORDRED." She bows her head lightly to him and gestures at some of those quarts juuust in case.

     Then again, he could just grab them in the morning if he did end up staying here. Well, whatever.

     The mischievous grin returns at that slight blushing, although the healer's probably done enough teasing for one day. "This really is a nice place. Yari's told me many great things about the place, and your hospitality's been amazing. If I didn't live where I did and if my old home wasn't... The way it it was, I'd invite you all over just to see it."

Saber (346) has posed:
     The placid, regal demeanour never seemed to change, but one might have the impression that the King of Knight agreed entirely with the assessment from the knight from the stars. Her magical clone seemed to be allergic to anything feminine,or even the suggestion thereof. "Ah...yes. It would be prudent to...well. When it comes to my son, it would be best to consider her....well, a man."

     Certain others might have thought calling her masculine an insult, but Saber knew better.

     Yet, she seemed almost startled by MORDRED's request. "Of course," she replied. "Hospitality extends to necessary lodgings. There is a hostel on the second floor, as well as private quarters on the third, whichever is the most agreeable. And both share full communal baths." And what she meant by 'communal baths' were full Roman-style, mineral-rich heated ones. Decadent by some standards, though quite common in her era, and now available for any visitor to the remote keep.

     "Our breakfast is typically at seven in the morning. And should you have need of anything, the servants of the keep will attend to it."

     As for the curry... "It would be a shame to allow any of it to go to waste. By all means." Not that she and the other Mordred couldn't have devoured it between the two of them, but, manners.

     The Servant smiled slightly. "Perhaps one day, then. If the respite we offer allos others to reclaim their homes and remake them into something similar, then we have achieved what we wished to achieve."

     She smiled to the new guests of their growing community. "Be welcome in the Fortress of the Stars."