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Sometimes they are five. Sometimes they are three.
We do not merely destroy our enemies;
we change them.
WELCOME TO THE END OF TIME.
The Regency has its spies and its cloaks and daggers. You may have even brushed shoulders with one and not have known it. There is a place for such tactics. You are not in that place any longer.
On missions like these, the Regency prefers to keep its base close, in a intradimensional time pocket. You're apart from Gallipoli, no longer technically on Earth or in the 1910s. There are multiple segments to this complex base of Regency operations, but you can only really see two places...
THE BRIG
This is your holding cell, a constantly shifting room of indesctructable grey squares. It folds and bends to hold you and your seven companions as you await... something.
There are no guards in this place. There are no bars to look through, or sounds to listen for. You are simply in the box, left to your own devices.
Occasionally, holes will open in the ceiling, and packaged, processed rations will fall from them before immediately closing. This is the only way to measure time. There are always exactly eight bags, each with the name of one captive written on the side in their native language.
Holes will occasionally open in the walls, and they always bring with them a searingly bright light. Sleeping and sitting is difficult on the ever-shifting floors, and when you try, it always seems like a pinhole of light opens right on your eyes. Even leaning on the walls has mixed results.
DON'T GO TOWARDS THE LIGHT
The windows of light that open always stay very small, making it difficult to look through, and always pour radiantly bright, hot light. If you're feeling particularly self-punishing, you might be able to peek at an odd angle and see something of the world outside without being completely flashblinded. The world outside the Brig looks rather like the interior of a Dyson sphere. In the center, a great, bright, hot energy radiates out like a sun, and it reflects off the exterior globe the pocket dimension functions within, illuminating everything from every angle. The Brig floats around it in a slow orbit, as do many other similar looking box-rooms made of similar material, connected by constantly moving tubes and chutes. Some boxes have more chutes going toward them than others. No chutes connect to the Brig, unless someone is about to disappear into the floor...
Getting this view will be difficult, but not impossible; it will just take characters willing to blind themselves with an overabundance of light multiple times until they get the correct angle, allowing them to see outside for roughly a half second before the room shifts to redirect the light back into their eyes.
not so solitary confinement
Occasionally, the cube will split into smaller segments, throwing characters together with others at random in close confinement. This is unpredictable and fast, splitting you off from the whole for what feels like hours at a time, often with only one companion as the cube shifts and squirms around you.
technical malfunction
The power nullification is still in full effect. No magic or special abilities rule this place. Your only master are the walls, undulating with no discernible pattern, always moving.
The Regency has also attempted to break the BCE's translation capabilities, but due to the fact that COST-jailbroken BCEs work on a different system than Regency ones, this is an intermittent problem that occurs sporadically. (ie, have the translation capabilities blink in and out at your discretion.)
THE OTHER PLACE
And then, suddenly, the floor drops out from underneath you. The shifting walls make a hole perfectly your shape and size, and sucks you through. The hole closes neatly, immediately, and you slide along in a world of boxes pressing close to your skin as you are moved from one holding area to another.
When you emerge, you do so in total darkness. Power nullification is still in effect, but even if you can naturally see in the dark, it doesn't matter. All you can see is an endless blackness, and walking doesn't help. You can keep walking for however long; there is nothing to walk to. The floor is perfectly level, but you'll never reach a wall.
Finally, there's light in the distance. A spotlight from nowhere shines down on a person with the head of a jackal. Looking closer, you'll find it's some kind of highly technical mask. They are wearing armor that obscures their exact shape-- no skin shows, no hint of identity or personality, just the cold eyes of the mask. They turn to you, and speak in a voice clear and soothing, almost gentle.
"I am Kebechet. I have been looking forward to speaking with you."
...ii...
The rations that had dropped down for him were... well, he isn't quite certain what they are. They were like some sort of crumbled granola, but he personally didn't have any words to describe that. There was a decent amount of them in the bag, though, and he couldn't really say he was hungry. Nerves tended to interfere with that sort of thing.]
We shall split this. Is that acceptable?
[Regardless, he is offering the sealed package to her. A gesture of good faith.]
poor ashitaka.............
[ No matter how rude she is, she doesn't want him to starve. Opening the bag, she shovels some of the contents into her mouth, talking without bothering to swallow. ]
Hey. You holding up okay? [ Comparatively. ]
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[The inflection of that response is particularly flat.
He shakes his head at her warning, however. In a way, he's happy she would even make such a consideration, that she seems to worry in her own way. But it wasn't necessary. If they continued to be fed in the intervals they were, he would survive fine with limited rations.]
You must eat more than a normal person to continue to exist, yes? I will share with you then.
[They are comrades in this, stuck in the same terrible situation. It seems the least he could do.
He takes a moment to answer the question, seeming to lack the proper words.] As well as I can. [He exhales in a short sigh.] It is the... not knowing that troubles me. Why they would even bother to capture and hold us at all.
[He had seen what had happened to Xici. He doesn't understand why they would waste resources (if that's what you could call their prison and their rations) on keeping enemies alive. Were they hostages? Were they awaiting some other decision to be made? These are the questions that keep rattling around in his head, making it even more difficult to sleep.]
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Thanks. Man, I finally take care of this stuff, and they go and screw it up again.
[ She wonders how Ryuji is doing — but better her than him in this situation, and he could contract with another, stronger Servant easily enough. Ashitaka's question only gets a shrug: maybe if she'd seen what happened to Xici herself, she'd be warier of the Regency's capabilities, but her usual attitude is barely dampened. ]
We're hostages. COST has something they want, and we're bargaining chips for it. [ She sounds matter-of-fact, albeit annoyed. It wasn't a terribly uncommon thing in her time. ] We don't know enough to be valuable, and it's foolish to expect us to change sides. It's the only reason that makes sense.
Anyway, they'll probably let the weakest people go first. So you'll get out of here before me. Hopefully they don't make you wait too long. [ She pats him on the shoulder with a grin. ]
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It's fairly apparent in the blank expression on his face, though whatever she did, they must currently be separated from it. It means that his conviction is renewed in his decision, that it would be worthwhile for him to share what little food they got so she could continue to manifest in... whatever way she does. He still doesn't entirely understand that whole aspect to the handful among them for which it was relevant.
This is another moment where Mordred is surprisingly shrewd about their situation. Ashitaka's expression grows grave, but he gives a nod. It makes sense. There was little other reason to keep them alive otherwise, with what little they knew.]
I see.
[He seems a little troubled by the thought of them being split up, sent ahead while others remained here. It's not like they would be delivered into some sanctuary - they only had Gallipoli to return to, and he isn't even sure how their botched retreat and peacekeeping measures were going. It's all so tenuous.
And... yeah, sure, she did just call him weak, but here where he didn't even benefit from the strength his curse gave him, he can't really disagree.]
I hope they are able to return all of us. [He considers it for a moment.] It would be upon their own honor to do so, if a deal is struck. Do you think the Regency might try something further?
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[ There's distaste in her voice. For all that she derides those with more honour than herself, it's one of the few things she puts any stock in — dealing with the Regency makes her uncomfortable. ]
These guys... they're more like the rulers I knew. Tyrants who pushed their own values on the common folk, too proud for their own good. [ Not that Mordred's one to talk about having too much pride. ] It's not about peace, or whatever. It's about getting what they want. I can't stand it.
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She's right. They have no honor. They might think they do, but there is no honor in this, treating them like animals in a pen. He thinks of Xici and of how they had treated her after her capture. Had it been much better? She had been bound, she had been beaten. She had died, though they had not been the ones to do it. They probably should have been, however, thinking of how cruel those final moments had been for her, when everything she placed her trust in betrayed her.
Ashitaka doesn't know of the intricacies of war, of what was thought of as honorable and what wasn't. He just knows what he felt in his heart and in his gut, and here it tells him to trust no one or nothing.]
This seems to be a common trend. [He looks troubled.] Many of the common people of Paris felt the same of the royal family.
[It had been a difficult thing to judge between. He knew the royal family, knew them to be vapid but mostly harmless. But by their actions and inaction they had caused their people to suffer. Did it warrant death? He isn't sure, but it had certainly precipitated it.]
Did you stand up against these rulers in your own time?
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My king was different. He had no selfish desires, and he united our homeland for the sake of everyone. [ Bitterness creeps into her tone. ] But nobody could understand him, so they rebelled. The people wanted a perfect king, yet in the end, they destroyed him for it.
That's why humanity is worthless. Even an ideal result isn't good enough for most people. So, I won't lift a finger to help them.
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Perhaps it meant they were brave, but perhaps it also meant that they were stupid.]
Yes. That is what the people said, when I asked them.
[That it was a failure, that their actions were a justified response. Ashitaka still isn't sure. But, in a way, it hadn't been his place to enforce any sort of contrary opinion. He had been caught directly in the tangled web of the conflict back home. In COST's war, he is merely a proxy.]
Why? [He doesn't understand. Was there a misunderstanding or something? Surely something drastic must have occurred for a dramatic response such as regicide.
He's quiet at her final comments. He knows that humanity is capable of some truly terrible things; they have plenty of evidence to that here. But he believes that the idea of them overcoming that to do better is far more powerful than stewing in bitterness.]
Humanity is flawed. Each and every person contends with weakness, and it is due to that they often succumb to it. It is easier to be selfish. It is easier to be harsh.
[His eyes grow distant.]
But some people defy this. It is when I meet people like this, I remember how much I wish to see more.
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[ It's a rich comment, coming from someone who lived less than ten years, but Mordred knows all she needs to about humanity. Just like she knows she's better than them. The way they treated her father — the way they followed her, a raging, selfish demon — says everything. Maybe if she finishes her story, he'll understand. ]
The lords grew tired of the king. He cared more for the common people than the power possessed by a few. But when he cast away one person to preserve nine, the nine grew bitter that not everyone could be saved. Basically, he couldn't win.
After that, all they needed was someone to follow. Someone to start the rebellion. [ Her expression darkens. ] Not that I care about their reasons. I used them, just like they wanted to use me. And I showed the king that his accomplishments meant nothing at all.
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No, he cannot believe it, and he will not. They were capable of better, and they could achieve it if prompted.
He doesn't respond, instead listening to her as she continues.
There's a stoniness to his face as her point becomes clear, and he leans forward a bit, gaze cautious yet searching.]
You said "they," earlier. [Implying that she had not been a part, though that doesn't seem the case. There would only be those that use and those who were used.] Were you just a tool for this, then? It is strange. Earlier I would have thought you revered him.
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[ This bullshit again. It sounds like a joke, but her tone is serious, her expression impassive. ]
I was no tool. In fact, I led the rebellion. But for me, it had nothing to do with his kingship. [ Only him as a father. ] That's why they were the foolish ones. I destroyed an entire country for my personal vendetta, never sparing a thought for those who followed me.
Surely now you understand how worthless humans are. I mean, who would you follow? An infallible king, or someone who only sought to destroy him? The right choice is obvious.
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He feels as though there is much between the lines of what she is saying, an entire story that would lead to the truth of why she felt the need to take up a vendetta to a person she openly acknowledged as a paragon. But he reminds himself that she is no longer human, and that perhaps she viewed what she did in the past in a different way than he might what he had done in his own.]
Do you claim ownership of what you did? [He pauses for a moment before he continues,] Or do you regret it?
[The question of the common people was a bit more of a complicated one. Ashitaka had not seen much, but he had seen enough to know that a peasant has little opinion or control over who sat in a throne in a keep with dominion over the lands they worked on. Irontown had been different, for Eboshi had been different. But for many villages he had passed by, politics had meant nothing to the people until the samurai had descended upon them, weapons drawn and intent on blood.]
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[ Even when Britain was at peace, she never once received any affection, from the king — no, her father — or anyone else. No one was interested in her as a person. The only solution was to make him look at her, by destroying everything else. ]
Most Servants are great heroes. But I'm a treacherous knight. Even so, I can't stand what the Regency are doing. [ When she laughs, it's bitter. ] So I'll rebel against them, too. I'll be even better at it than the king would. Don't worry about me stabbing you in the back or anything, okay?
[ Very reassuring. ]
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Did he agree with it? Of course not. He finds such selfishness distasteful, especially when it does so much to destroy what could uphold peace and prosperity for many. He thinks perhaps she should doubt it, she should feel some guilt, but he cannot decide such things for her. Perhaps that was her journey here. He knows little of her own kind, but if they were given second life, maybe they were meant to do something with it - just as he had been given a renewed lease to try to purge himself of his curse.]
And I was just going to ask. [He says this in monotone.
But he truly doesn't feel he has such a thing to fear from her. Perhaps a gut instinct, but her vendetta against the king had sounded personal. There is no personal bad blood between them, nor with the rest of COST, he thinks.]
If the Regency succeed in their goals, your coup would have never come to pass. [He says it thoughtfully, once again upset that he might appreciate what they set out to do if their methods were not so atrocious.] Perhaps it is good we have you in our number, then. An experienced rebel in our ranks.
[Ashitaka is only a rookie.]
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[ She sounds awfully proud of this. Some things don't change, and even in the Regency's idea of a prison, she still has attitude to spare. ]
But the king wouldn't have agreed with them, either. He never tried to control his people... only to help them. Otherwise, things might have been different. [ There would have been no final battle, no destruction of the country. He would have done away with all sources of discontent — starting with her — and not allowed others like his wife to stray, ruling with an iron fist. ] So if he shows up here, he should praise me for my efforts. Don't you think?
[ The comment seems... genuine? Like she actually does want praise from the man she destroyed. (Because she does.) ]
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In my own time, I had only begun to defy the wishes of ruling lords. Perhaps with your teaching, I will be far more adept when I finally return.
[Though, no, he still will not kill Lady Eboshi. Perhaps Mordred would've thought that the better path in the conflict between Irontown and the gods of the forest...]
You truly think he would have disagreed with their intentions entirely? They insist that their control ensures peace and stability. If your king wished so greatly for the best for the people, perhaps he could have been swayed.
[There's no way to say. He wonders more and more about it, though. It was a very cunning promise to make, one that needled into your conscience, made you question if it was a cost that could be paid.
He observes her for a moment. He does get a hint of her duality of opinion of the king, though he wouldn't have much clarity without being told. It doesn't seem to be a joke, though. That much, he knows.]
If he would respond as you said he would, then yes, I suppose he would be grateful for what you have done.
Why is it that you care, though?
[He just comes right out and asks it...]
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[ Haha. But again, completely serious. She moves to ruffle his hair, seemingly pleased with his answer. ]
I'll teach you whatever you want. You don't look like much, but I bet you can still accomplish things anyway. [ Thanks... ] But in that case, I can't have you calling me Saber. So call me Mordred. That's my real name.
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I see.
[Of course you don't, Mordred.
He mostly just sits still for when she musses his hair, honestly completely unused to the gesture. He... assumes it's affectionate? It seems to be Mordred's style, at least. He isn't really sure how to respond, simply peering at her with his hair (grown out from where he'd cut it very short before dispatch to Gallipoli) in disarray.
Doesn't look like much, but can still get things done... that's pretty much Ashitaka in a nutshell.
He seems a little surprised at the admission, though.] I shall do that... Mordred.
[He tilts his head slightly.]
Why do you use this other name and hide your true one?
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[ Though some hide their names more than others... Achilles. But she's seeing less and less reason to bother with it herself, which is why she doesn't mind explaining things to him. ]
Try it, when we get back to BASE. You'll see how easy it is to find out everything. [ She shrugs. ] I don't have anything to hide now. It's just a habit.
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Of course, Ashitaka has absolutely no concept of "history books," so there's a social context to this that he doesn't entirely grasp. But he is familiar that such things might be carried down in stories and legends.]
I understand.
[He probably won't look her up, though. She seems willing enough to simply tell him what he wants to know, should he actually ask.
He looks at her sidelong.] Do you find it is better or easier to be honest, or to hide yourself?
[He hides aspects of who he was, but more because it was in the past, things he could no longer completely claim anymore. He speaks sparingly about the Emishi, those he had condemned and left behind. In a way it was difficult to suppress it. In a way it was painful to broach the subject at all. He merely wonders if she feels similarly.]
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I've always hidden things. [ Few people ever saw her face under the helmet. It follows her even in death — her armour not some bright, shining beacon of heroism, but a power to disguise herself with. ] So, for me, that's easier. ... But I can't say it's better.
[ Being able to be the person named Mordred, instead of the shadow of King Arthur, feels a lot better. She lowers her arm, and turns her head away slightly. ]
Most people are afraid of me. Or hate me. It's not like I care, but... [ b-baka. ] Well, whatever. It is what it is. If people run away, then I don't have to waste my time with them.
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But, with where they were and with what was happening, it's simply something to do. Something to distract the mind from the fogginess of what the future held.
Often enough he questions the truth of what she says; that she doesn't care about certain things, as not all other factors seem to lead to that selfsame conclusion. He decides to keep quiet on this, however, slipped away as a thought to ruminate upon.
He gives a nod, thinking a moment before continuing.] Your story is still being written. [Perhaps it is not the proper way to view these spirits, given what he knows of their presence here, but it's how he sees it.] Who you were should not be all of who you are to those you know now. For your past actions, you had your reasons. Regardless of these, I am grateful to have you here with us, as you have been.
[From what he has seen, she seems reliable, even if voracious to a point of fault.]
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[ Except she kind of was, even if she has no idea how to feel about his answer. This is the problem with people who don't hate her. ]
I'd rather be here by myself. [ Because everyone else is annoying, she wants to imply. So no one else would be, is what she actually means. ] But I'll manage. You keep managing, too. [ It's all they can really hope for. ]
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Speaking to Mordred is very strange. He is naturally inclined to take her words at face value, but he always gets the feeling that if he does so, he's misunderstanding something.
In the end, he gives a very small, slightly rueful smile.] You are right. I will be more careful in the future.
[He believes he understands what she means in that, too. He decides to be a little more cautious in the way he responds.]
I will. [Though he does think it's best that there is a group of them here. Not for the success of their mission, but for the success of their survival. To be isolated would be a truly dangerous thing.
He settles back against the wall behind him, nodding in Mordred's direction.] I will continue to share what I can, when we are given food. [It is the least he can do in this situation.]