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out the dawn, with the light (psl)
[ Heroic Spirits being summoned outside of a Holy Grail War is nigh unheard of. they exist for this very purpose alone, to only be called when the need arises. and yet when the world is in danger, there are few others to call but those who existed before, that they might turn the tide in favor of humanity.
Arturia should be glad she has resurfaced in her old home, in her own time, and even with her knights in tow - but their existence and unity is a fragile thing, held together like a rotting scaffold as they assess their situation. rather than fight in a war amongst themselves, they find their shared enemy is the darkness of the Grail itself, something dark and ichorous, bound into the Root of the world. the Void, some call it. the Endless Dark. the creatures it spawns are worse than those from the fire of the Grail mud, monsters created from the very recesses of mankind's hatred. built upon itself, it is an army that marches.
and so Heroes have been called to repel them, though they are few in number, and some are scattered. beneath the banner of the King of Knights, Arturia attempts to unite them, one by one.
it is late one evening when she is informed there is another, a Rider class servant brought to their tents. though there is no luxury here, no round table, no decadence, Arturia stands and sits as if she is still upon a throne, with the glittering green eyes of a king. what few smiles she imparts are polite alone with little warmth behind them, standing tall against the weight of her duty - a world, this time, not solely her kingdom - that rests upon her shoulders.
but she is not alone. her knights stand at attendance for the time being, though they are soon to withdraw. and there is Archer, who has bound himself to her service - strange as it may be, as she did not ask for such loyalty - who has contented himself to seeing to her knights and their hunger (and her own).
Achilles is brought in by Tristan, and after formal introductions and some discussion, the knights withdraw, some to stand guard and others to rest and prepare. Achilles is provided the offer to stay behind to enjoy a meal - and Arturia stays as well, looking over the map of the territory they are to invade - Turkey - with keen eyes.
Emiya, too, is free to remain. she does not stop him. ]
Do you know the sort of resistance we might be meeting as we journey? [ this is directed at both of them. ] This territory is not known to me, and we have only barely touched upon the creatures we are to face.
[ her mouth seems to be set in a new constant thin line, too serious, too thoughtful. she has fully stepped back into her old role. the only time her severe expression seems to let up is when she is eating, and she picks at her food as she surveys their work. ]
Arturia should be glad she has resurfaced in her old home, in her own time, and even with her knights in tow - but their existence and unity is a fragile thing, held together like a rotting scaffold as they assess their situation. rather than fight in a war amongst themselves, they find their shared enemy is the darkness of the Grail itself, something dark and ichorous, bound into the Root of the world. the Void, some call it. the Endless Dark. the creatures it spawns are worse than those from the fire of the Grail mud, monsters created from the very recesses of mankind's hatred. built upon itself, it is an army that marches.
and so Heroes have been called to repel them, though they are few in number, and some are scattered. beneath the banner of the King of Knights, Arturia attempts to unite them, one by one.
it is late one evening when she is informed there is another, a Rider class servant brought to their tents. though there is no luxury here, no round table, no decadence, Arturia stands and sits as if she is still upon a throne, with the glittering green eyes of a king. what few smiles she imparts are polite alone with little warmth behind them, standing tall against the weight of her duty - a world, this time, not solely her kingdom - that rests upon her shoulders.
but she is not alone. her knights stand at attendance for the time being, though they are soon to withdraw. and there is Archer, who has bound himself to her service - strange as it may be, as she did not ask for such loyalty - who has contented himself to seeing to her knights and their hunger (and her own).
Achilles is brought in by Tristan, and after formal introductions and some discussion, the knights withdraw, some to stand guard and others to rest and prepare. Achilles is provided the offer to stay behind to enjoy a meal - and Arturia stays as well, looking over the map of the territory they are to invade - Turkey - with keen eyes.
Emiya, too, is free to remain. she does not stop him. ]
Do you know the sort of resistance we might be meeting as we journey? [ this is directed at both of them. ] This territory is not known to me, and we have only barely touched upon the creatures we are to face.
[ her mouth seems to be set in a new constant thin line, too serious, too thoughtful. she has fully stepped back into her old role. the only time her severe expression seems to let up is when she is eating, and she picks at her food as she surveys their work. ]
no subject
What he can offer may not be any more practical than what any of her other advisors would have; granting Achilles his opportunity to speak anyhow allows for a stronger alliance to forge. It's quite tactical really, and convenient, since the Achaean warrior had stood on this very beach over a millennium ago and is no stranger to this land's conditions.
Stepping into her tent, Achilles had already been aware that the King was a woman. He's heard other Heroes speak of her, and seeing her for himself, he finds himself more surprised by her apparent age than her gender. But perhaps she has purposefully projected this appearance, similar to Penthilessea. It's none of his business anyway. He's here for one purpose, and the prospect of battle is more alluring than a fresh-faced beauty. ]
And here I'd been under the impression that Britain had already conquered most of the known world. You mean to tell me that its famous king of legend doesn't know what to expect in war? [ He can't help but be an asshole. Though his teacher tried his best to dissuade Achilles from speaking before thinking, or even considering maintaining tact. ]
Yet, you've managed to wrangle this many heroes together to fight, even if many of us have our differences. If anything is going to impress me, it's that much. [ He acknowledges with a smile, eyes flitting to the silent man taking up space in the room. He doesn't recognize him... One of her knights, maybe? ]
This world has changed since I last fought in it, but my master taught me a lot about foresight. And I imagine you've had to practice it, too.
The weather and terrain won't do much to stop Heroic Spirits from advancing, but the populated cities and villages will. There's very little room to fight in without worrying about innocent lives getting caught in the crossfire. If you want to save them, I suggest we hold off on engaging the enemy until we clear the border of Anatolia.