Season 1: Persepolis/Round 1 Thread 5

Dad 08-Nov-20 07:15 AM

Tapio Veli Ilmari 18-Nov-20 03:14 AM

Tapio rubbed sweat from his forehead, arms sore and head swimming with all the sigils that made up one of the most complicated spells he'd ever reproduced. A perfect summoning circle was etched in the immaculately clean, checkered floor in front of him, its design barely visible under the dim glow of light spilling through the windows.

Stained glass windows, to be precise. A common fixture for churches and the rich alike, an impracticality that people refused to pass on even when they’d given up so much more for mankind’s survival in the New World. Though the dusty glass panes kind of spoke for themselves. The rest of the church was equally devoid of life, with barren walls lacking any sort of decor. It seemed that the poor had already taken what they could from the abandoned building, which made the integrity of the windows all the more astonishing.

Maybe people did have conscience after all?

Of course, none of that mattered to Tapio Veli Ilmari, non-heir to a small-time alchemist-turned-craftsman family. He wasn’t pious, nor was he a hip artist who’d scoff at vandalism. If anything, the summoning circle he had etched in the floor was every bit as horrendous. Though he did have the decency to at least clean the bit of the floor first - not because he felt bad, but because all the dust was making him sneeze and mess up the circle every three strokes.

All he wanted was a quiet place that was structurally sound, so that he could work uninterrupted for a few hours and finally (hopefully) get some life insurance within such an insane city.

'Okie dokie, that wasn't so bad!' Tapio gave himself a pat on the back as he admired his handiwork. He carefully placed the small jar of etching solution back into the pouch on his belt, dragged the slightly battered hull of what appeared to be a human-sized mannequin over the summoning circle, then fished a piece of paper from his pocket and went over its contents for the umpteenth time since he'd first set foot onto Persepolis.

'Silver and iron...wind and gate and crown…onetwothreeefourfive, that's five repeats...Ugh, wish I could've gotten some extra credit for this, I haven't even studied this hard for my exams!' The boy mumbled quite cheerfully, with none of the remorse an almost-flunky should have, then tossed the paper away and grabbed his phone. He navigated to the camera app, turned his back towards the summoning circle and mannequin, then struck a peace sign with his free hand as he took a selfie with his handiwork.

Persepolis had a spotty connection to other cities and emails sent slower than pigeons, but at least he’d eternalized this moment for now. Tapio took a few measured steps until he positioned himself a perfect 10 inches away from the edge of the summoning circle.

'Silver and iron to the origin-ah!'

Realizing that he still had his coat on, Tapio cut himself off and hastily buttoned it. It wouldn't do him any good to initiate the summoning ritual while he still had his coat on; the runes inscribed on it would mess up his mana flow dearly and he really, really didn't want to be known as the one Master in history who had failed his summoning because he wore one layer too many.

The boy threw the coat off the side with shaky fingers, realizing only now that his heart had been thrumming like a small drum. 'Hah, I'm actually nervous!' He laughed a little, trying to dispel the butterflies in his stomach. What was he, twelve?

He took a few solid, deep breaths and restarted his chant.

'Silver and iron to the origin...'

Trying his damn hardest not to stutter, Tapio recited the sacred words at the empty space in front of him. A gust of wind tickled his hair when he got to the 3rd verse, the summoning circle glowing a soft blue that finally introduced some color into the lackluster room.

'Shut (fill).'

The young mage felt his own mana respond to the ritual in kind, flowing out to join the band of dancing light that thickened with each repeat of the same verse, congealing into something almost tangible-

Then the light erupted.

Shit, shit! Tapio cussed inwardly even as he continued with the chant. The summoning circle had now been fully activated and easily wrestled control away from him, filling the room with erratic currents of his own mana that had been converted into something foreign and intimidating.

'Your self is under me, my fate(doom) is in your sword.'

This is probably normal. Definitely normal! This is how summonings are supposed to look like! Unfortunately, Tapio had never been briefed on the summoning ritual, let alone witness one in person. What he did know, however, was that his mana had never looked so violent, ever. It was supposed to be dormant - uncharacteristically so - and this new sight scared him.

Well, a bit too late to worry about that now.

'I am the one who becomes all the good of the world of the dead, I am the one who lays out all the evil of the world of the dead! You, seven heavens clad in three words of power! Arrive from the ring of deterrence, O keeper of the balance!!'

His chant grew louder and faster, a last ditch effort to keep his nerves under control as the boy blurted out the remaining verses. Tendrils of mana whipped about, snuffing out the lights overhead and plunging the room into darkness even as the circle burned bright with a violet light. Tapio shielded his eyes, knees weak and heart in his mouth as he prayed, for the first time in his life, that he would walk away from this strange phenomenon unscathed.

@Dad

Aratron 18-Nov-20 08:12 AM

Not only were the glass windows beautiful, they were surprisingly resistant too. The raw mana that permeated the church was enough to make Tapio feel at unease. Yet the church stood tall, unflinching in the face of the summon that had just occurred inside. Its last ceremony had finally concluded.

Tapio couldn't see much in the shadows, his vision clouded by the darkness inside as the mana spread around the empty locale. Something had clearly woken up, however, for he could hear movements around him. Something was slithering around, something old that had been trapped in a deep slumber. The smoke slowly dissipated, a figure gradually being shown from its remains.

"I ask you."

A voice echoed from the deep, their words echoing through the mana tendrils.

"You, who calls me and seeks me. Summoner who manifests me under the class of Caster. I ask your name. The one knowledge I lack." Their tone sounded wise beyond their years. Tapio felt like he was dealing with a being of unknown prowess. Something that couldn't possibly be perceived by a human alone. The mention of the Caster class sealed the deal. Truly, the Servant he had summoned could be nothing short of amazing. The wicked witch, Medea? The talented enchantress, Circe? Maybe even a more modern Servant, such as the refined minds of Ada Lovelace, Thomas Edison and Alan Turing. The potential was limitless.

The tendrils dissipated. The smoke vanished. Footsteps could be heard, as the figure marched forward and revealed a surprisingly...human visage. A man with a black ponytail and a surprisingly fashionable outfit. A modern Servant, perhaps?

"Yes, I ask of you..." The man muttered while staring Tapio down with arms crossed.

<a href="https://img2.gelbooru.com//images/33/8d/338d3ce104db0846b3716d8011b26b38.jpg">https://img2.gelbooru.com//images/33/8d/338d3ce104db0846b3716d8011b26b38.jpg</a>

"Are you my Student?"

...

Student? Did they perhaps fumble their words a bit? Wouldn't the correct term be Master? What had Tapio brought down to the world...

@Nat

Tapio Veli Ilmari 19-Nov-20 02:22 AM

Tapio blinked a few times, feeling like a blind man as he slowly readjusted to the room after that strong explosion of light. The erratic mana currents had calmed down enough to not send more sparks flying, yet they still pervaded the room like a heavy blanket. Feeling cold stone on his hands, Tapio realized that he’d fallen back onto his butt somewhere in the middle of the summoning. As such, he was forced to look up to the commanding presence now occupying the summoning circle in place of the old mannequin.

Student…? Tapio mulled the word over a few times. Has there been some sort of mistake?

‘Um, mister...Caster.’ He addressed the man tentatively, a tinge of disappointment in his voice. His mind raced. ‘ I think the word you’re looking for is “Master”.’

Okay, it was entirely on him that he couldn’t prepare a catalyst ahead of time, but not like he had a choice to begin with! Besides, what were the chances of getting the short end of the stick and summoning a heroic spirit from the most boring class?

He did summon a proper Servant, right? The S.E.R.V.A.N.T. suit he had grabbed wasn’t malfunctioning in any way, right?

Right???

His eyes darted from the figure’s face to his attire, trying to place a name, a hint, anything he could surmise about the man. A modern-looking Servant who had just called him a student as if they were sent by the academy trying to whoop his ass over his failing grades. Wait a second.

Surely not…?

‘Nope, never seen your face before. I already sat the supplementary exam and got a pass.’ He composed his reply as calmly as possible.

@Dad

Aratron 19-Nov-20 09:11 AM

Master?

Aratron blinked likewise. Not because of the bright lights, nor because of the influx of mana, but due to the words that Tapio had just uttered. He gave a keen, careful scan of the boy. Slouched, lazy posture. Distracted eyes. Spiked hair. What a piece of work. He had much to work towards to. Too much, even.

"Very well. The contract is made. There is no time to waste." He said abruptly, stepping forward and ignoring Tapio's inquisitive gaze. "Caster, Aratron. I have answered your summons...and am ready to fulfil my purpose."

He stood around, staring at Tapio for a full minute. The two remained immobile like statues, before the Servant broke the ice.

"...What are you standing around for? This is a classroom. Where are your books? Your notes? I see nothing except a bargain bin summoning circle and rags camouflaged as runes."

Classroom? Books?! What? Was this some sort of advanced humour that Tapio had missed? He knew that some Servants were known to be rather eccentric, but what was this all about? Were they joking or--

"...Hmm. I see. Territory Creation, was it? I suppose I should set up my workshop before expecting attendance. I should know better than to expect a student to know on how to make a proper classroom." Aratron said, walking past Tapio as he started to inspect the church around him.

Student. There was that word again. Well, at least this no-good Caster had revealed their True Name without a hitch. Aratron, was it? Had Tapio even heard of that figure?

"...How inadequate. I can barely sense the ley lines residing in this structure. Not just that, but the architecture is depraved. This church stands tall thanks to eight pillars. Eight. Of all things, eight. Just one less and it would have been perfect..." The Servant kept mumbling to themselves out loud, trapped in their own little world. What had Tapio gotten himself into...

@Nat

Tapio Veli Ilmari 20-Nov-20 03:43 AM

‘W-wait up!’ Tapio grabbed his coat and scrambled after Aratron as the latter surveyed the room. Just who was the Master here? He sure didn’t feel like one, being at a loss for words after this eccentric Caster had delivered a critical blow to his self-esteem. Books? Notes? Class? For a second there, he almost thought he had teleported back to the academy and this intercity field trip had merely been some sort of hallucination.

‘What kind of name is Aratron? What branch of history are you from? I’m Tapio, by the way.’ He dogged right after his Servant, pulling up ServantPedia™️ on his phone and punching the name into the search box.

The page ‘Aratron’ does not exist. You can ask for it to be created.

There were no results matching the query..

Odd. An alias? Tapio quickly dismissed that thought. He’d seen enough slimy Servants in action in his hometown, and this Aratron didn’t strike him to be the secretive type. If anything, he reminded him of - the boy pulled a face - his professors back at the academy.

‘I suppose you’re a famous professor from recent history, huh?’ Tapio decided to strike up a conversation amidst Caster’s incessant mumbles. ‘Come on, relax a bit. You’ve been granted a second life, kind of! Isn’t there anything you want to do other than, well, teach?’

Besides, that’s not exactly why you’ve been summoned here…

‘Look, the church doesn’t look all that fancy, but it’s still the sturdiest building I could find around here. The pillars are plenty stable, you can have my word on that.’ He patted his chest. ‘I’ve already set up my own workshop in the attic for a few days, and it’s been pretty snug so far.’ He tried to appeal to his new acquaintance.

@Dad

Aratron 20-Nov-20 05:03 AM

Aratron kept musing on the pillars, his hand resting on his chin as Tapio caught up. The Servant was deep in thought, so the boy tried to make his life easier by simply googling his questions. Unfortunately, he got nothing: There was no result for 'Aratron' on the world's biggest encyclopedia. Either the name 'Aratron' was a clever alias, or he had summoned the most obscure out of obscure Servants. An entity that would almost be considered a Phantom Spirit. Something that could only be possible due to the current state of the world, of course.

But his Servant certainly wasn't deaf.

"Aratron? What kind of name is it, you ask?" The sharp dressed man replied with much vigour, as if taking offense at that statement. "Look to the skies. Do you not see the bright, shining sun, along with the resplendent moon? I am a beckoning star. A burning beacon of the cosmos. I am none other than--"

He was abruptly cut off by Tapio's further replies.

"Professor? Recent history? No, no. I am a being from before your time. Long have I waited to be summon--Wait. Did you just mention a workshop? Down in the attic?" Aratron mumbled, giving Tapio a blank stare.

"Then, what are you waiting for, Tapio Veli Ilmari?" The man said in a commandeering voice, mentioning Tapio by his full name. So, he had already discerned his identity? Quite the knowledgeable Servant.

"The governor of Saturn orders you to take him down the attic at once. An existing workshop means an existing classroom. I will modify it to my leisure to make the learning process far more efficient." He said, sounding obsessed with the thought of teaching.

"Plus, a second life? Do you really think that is enough to dissuade an Olympic spirit like me from performing their duties? I've lived seven lives total, let alone two! I have no need for a second chance. Now, be dutiful in your scholarly activities, and lead me to the attic."

They certainly liked to boast. If Tapio couldn't figure out the Servant's identity back then, maybe he could now with the amount of jargon that was getting thrown at him.

@Nat

Tapio Veli Ilmari 21-Nov-20 03:53 AM

Tapio’s eyes went wide. An Olympian spirit, the governor of Saturn? That...sounded…awesome. He was awestruck, even though he hadn’t the slimmest idea what branch of mythos or the occult Aratron sprang from, but could anyone blame him? The academy he had enrolled in focused more on the practicalities of magecraft than its often convoluted history, treating the craft more like a tool for solving immediate problems - and rightfully so. Even Tapio, as much as he disliked studying, couldn’t deny how much of a lifesaver it was when he learned to dispel rainwater from his favorite outdoor napping spots via simple bounded fields.

‘Alright, professor, don’t get cranky on me now-how did you know my family name? Mind reading? I doubt my family is important enough for the grail system to impart to Servants as public knowledge.’ He laughed airily, stating the fact as plainly as commenting on the weather and not at all feeling sorry for himself.

Unfortunately, Aratron’s insistence on converting Tapio’s workshop into a classroom only half-registered on the boy’s mind. The idea itself was simply too ridiculous. Perhaps if Aratron had actually seen the boy’s workshop, he’d reconsider his proposal. But alas, as wise as the Olympian spirit regarded himself, it seemed that he too was prone to the folly of teachers: gullibility in the face of a candid (albeit hopeless) student.

The Master and Servant swiftly made their way to the back of the church, where a pipe organ reached almost the whole way into the ceiling. Tapio hefted himself up the giant instrument with relative ease, using the keyboard and pipes as footholds as if he’d done this dozens of times already. Luckily, the pipe organ remained silent throughout its abuse. It seemed that it had been thoroughly broken.

‘I hope you’re ready to climb, professor.’ Tapio addressed Aratron by his newly assigned nickname again, now hanging onto an exposed wooden beam that would no doubt lead the two into the attic. ‘Last I heard, Casters aren’t that good with things other than spellcasting and book writing. Maybe you’re different from the others? A teacher has to know a bit of everything, right?’

He narrowed his eyes as a grin spread across his face. He wasn’t taking Aratron’s proposal seriously at all!

@Dad

Aratron 21-Nov-20 07:04 AM

Aratron narrowed his eyes at Tapio's question, as if the boy had asked something fundamentally simple. "Discerning one's name is mere child's play for a divine spirit, let alone my own Student. Do professors not check for attendance at your educational institutions? Of course they do! Similarly, I would not be able to teach without knowing at least the name of whoever I'm teaching."

Aratron put it rather bluntly. While it did make sense in Tapio's head, it also strengthened his theory of the Servant being some popular teacher. That being said, he couldn't exactly think of many professors that would give themselves badass names such as Olympian spirit or governor of Saturn. He was dealing with an oddball of sorts.

The two made their way to the back of the church, where Tapio couldn't help but showcase his incredibly inefficient climbing method: Utilizing an aged work of art as a stepping stone in order to reach the church's ceiling, where a wooden beam dangled. That was most likely the entrance to the attic, albeit Aratron squinted at the mere motions his student made while climbing the tower of pipes and keys. He remained motionless, casting Tapio a disappointed glance in response to the boy's grin.

"...Is this a joke? Are you perhaps a trainee comedian, Tapio Veli Ilmari? I see no reason to dedicate myself to a climb when I have enough materials right in front of me. It pains me that a student of mine cannot even recognize this simple fact." Aratron sighed, crouching and starting to carve at the floor with his fingertips. The grinding noise grated Tapio's ears, but what was even more shocking was the symbol that Aratron had carved on the ground.

F----

"Your grade for this session. Your feedback will be given once I reach the classroom. Now, if I may..." He marched towards the pipe organ, inspecting it carefully as he touched its pipes, keys and the wood that formed it.

"Unimpressive materials. Back in my time, we had the marble of gods. But this is passable, for now." He said with a tone of disdain, as if he were looking at a heap of junk. However, his eyes lit up upon recognizing a certain detail.

"777 pipes? Ha. I appreciate the sculptor's refined preferences, at the very least. Yes, this will do wonders for my structure." Aratron mumbled out loud, confusing Tapio a bit. What was so great about so many pipes? Was he missing something?

Well, he certainly wouldn't miss what came next, for it was simply magical. Aratron remained still, but three spinning discs slowly manifested themselves into the world, appearing on his back. They looked like halos!

"Commencing familiar creation. Do not bother me."

He said a few words, before the discs flew out of his back and started tearing the pipe organ to bits. They shredded its pipes and keys, along with even the surfaces around it! Walls were being torn down, aged furniture was broken down. It was chaotic, and Tapio couldn't stop himself from watching. He wondered if he should stop his Servant, tell them to quiet down before they caused a ruckus and alerted anybody nearby.

However, they were done in minutes.

"Familiar created. Do not thank me, o frail one. Just repay me with eternal servitude." Aratron muttered to himself, gently tapping the pipe organ's keys as the cloud of dust that had gathered from grinding portions of the walls started to dissipate. Tapio coughed a bit, before witnessing the creature that had been birthed in front of him...

The wood had been removed, replaced by marble and rock that Aratron had somehow created from the church's remains. The pipes, organs and keys looked brand new. Additional instruments had been added to the pipe organ, making it look like an entirely different instrument. Even aesthetics were preserved, as Aratron stole two pieces of walls that contained stained glass panes and crudely, yet beautifully attached them to this work of art.

What was even more impressive was that it was moving. It had arms that could move up and down, while its pipes gently purred like the sound of animal lightly breathing. It was no doubt a familiar, a familiar created out of the dead remains of a decrepit pipe organ. Yet it looked like something you would see in a science fiction book.

"Take me up." Aratron gave a simple order. The familiar replied by tapping its keys, playing a section of Toccata and Fugue in D Minor before placing a hand down and allowing Aratron to step on it. It then slowly raised its hand upwards, reaching the ceiling as Aratron now stood next to Tapio, having no need to even hang from a wooden beam to maintain his current position.

"Satisfied with my credentials? Now, take me to the classroom. It has become rather apparent that you are in dire need of help when it comes to Magecraft. Alchemy, in particular, does not seem to be your strong suit." The man sighed, dusting off his clothes as he saw Tapio's childish games as nothing more than an entry test.

@Nat

Tapio Veli Ilmari 22-Nov-20 03:17 AM

Tapio stuck his tongue out. ‘Showoff,’ He said, watching the dusty pipe organ transform into a magnificent creature at its creator’s beck and call. What little doubt he had about the advent of Aratron vanished on the spot. Karma. This has to be some sort of divine retribution for his lack of interest in pursuing higher magecraft. Which had to be exactly why the Grail had spat out a hellhound who was representative of every strict professor he’d come across at the academy.

Though he had to admit, Aratron’s magecraft was miles above what he had witnessed from his professors. The lack of incantation and convoluted arrays aside, what was with those giant discs?

No, no, Tapio, now isn’t the time to be impressed, especially not by someone who had just slapped a big fat F-quadruple-minus onto your forehead for no particular reason. The boy rocked back and forth on the beam to gain some momentum, before swinging himself up onto the wooden frame. Aratron may have arrived in a more elegant fashion, but was there anything wrong with good, honest climbing? Had he timed their approaches separately, he might have even come out on top.

Satisfied with his mental gymnastics, Tapio responded to Aratron’s criticism with more of his goofy grin.

‘I am a very generous judge, so you get-’ He held up a finger and traced a big A- in the air, ‘-an A minus. A for awesome, because I’ve never seen anyone create a golem this huge so quickly. The minus is there as a reminder that no one is perfect. But it’s okay. I will accept you despite any imperfections you might have, for I am your Master and you are my Servant.’

Tapio held up his finger and preached his nonsense much like a teacher himself. Was he implying that Aratron should do the same and accept his useless Master for who he was, a professional climber and part-time magus with nothing to show for it? Well, that wasn’t entirely accurate. After all, they had only made the trek up here to witness Tapio’s workshop. And since setting up a workshop required one to master the creation of bounded fields...surely there was still hope for this Olympian spirit’s perspective (star?) student yet...?

Tapio led Aratron through the empty floor until they arrived at an unassuming pyramid-shaped structure at the center of the attic. The lack of lighting didn’t help with its presentation, but a pyramid, in the church’s ceiling?

Tapio navigated through the darkened space with little trouble. He scratched out a few things on the floor around the pyramid, and the whole space was flushed with a warm light coming directly from the pyramid - or rather, as Aratron realized with abject horror - a tent that looked to be store-bought.

To be precise, he was staring at a weather-proof camping tent, large enough for a midget to stand inside without having to lower their head. The tarp looked to be of good quality and upon closer inspection, seemed to have runes drawn along each surface. The shapes weren’t like any conventional runecraft, but with Aratron’s knowledge in magecraft, it shouldn’t take him long to discern their purpose: to strengthen, to conceal, and to stabilize.

‘Ta-da.’ Tapio spun on his heels to face his servant, gesture to his humble abode with some flourish. ‘I drew some runes along the perimeter so that the light doesn’t leak out and alert people when I’m away. Isn’t it genius? It only took me a day to figure out how to lay down the runes.’ He declared rather proudly.

@Dad

Aratron 22-Nov-20 04:15 AM

Aratron didn't seem to mind Tapio's reluctant praise. If anything, he seemed rather detached from his amazing feats. Even the creation of a gigantic familiar seemed like elementary knowledge to him. Either he was proud, or he really was that competent at utilizing magecraft.

That being said, one of Tapio's remarks hit him the wrong way.

"No one is perfect? I'm inclined to disagree. After all, you have already summoned the most invincible Servant of them all." Aratron said with a completely straight face.

Tapio couldn't believe it. Was this guy for real? How could he say something that corny in such a blunt manner? This was beyond overconfident.

"A minus cannot be applied to me. If anything, my mere presence alone turns minuses into pluses. Even an incompetent magus like you, for example, could turn from four minuses into a beautiful bouquet of pluses." Aratron promised with a confident smirk. Not only did his statement sound ridiculous, but it felt downright insulting. The straight face he kept throughout added insult to the injury.

"But let us make haste. I wouldn't want to waste time on idle chatter, when you could easily spend that on refining your middling spells. Giving a look at the classroom you've prepared will give me a good idea on your magical prowess." He said rather bluntly, inciting Tapio to move forward. The two entered the empty floor, walking to a pyramid structure located in the ceiling. Just as they made their way to the doorway, however--

bonk

"Hmm. It seems like Galileo's Rings won't fit inside this doorway. Student, I assume you haven't yet mastered the arts of hidden passageways, imaginary spaces and endless corridors? Regrettable." Aratron sighed, mocking Tapio's lack of magecraft yet again as he was forced to unsummon the rings behind his back. However, even with that, he couldn't fit himself through the narrow doorway. Tapio's short stature was an advantage, for once. As such, the professor would be forced to crouch a bit and keep walking in a slouched position.

Thankfully, this only lasted until they reached the heart of Tapio's base. It was dark, and they could barely see, at least until Tapio activated the runes that he had placed on the floor. A warm light could be felt a few feet away, resulting in Aratron's gaze being greeted by...a store bought tent.

Clearly, this wasn't the work of a magus. Any user of magecraft with a shred of self-respect would not dare to use a common household item to support their arcane arts. They would rather use something more antique, such as a hidden passage that led to an underground dungeon, or a cave protected by magical runes.

Instead, what was in front of the Servant was a combination of new and old. A tent with runes scribbled all over it. A patchwork of magecraft and modern convenience that somehow turned out to be less than the sum of its parts. Aratron stepped forward, tapping at the tent and prodding the outside closely. The runes were anything but conventional, being drawn as odd shapes that mimicked actual runes. Their purpose was clear, but the execution subpar. Any competent magus would quite easily be able to dispel the tent's camouflage and reveal Tapio's hiding place. Not to mention, it had no strong defensive capabilities whatsoever.

The Servant felt so insulted, that they completely disregarded the amount of work or effort put into the tent. Tapio's boasting fell under deaf ears.

"...This isn't fit to be a classroom." Aratron declared rather seriously. The rings reappeared on his back, as Tapio felt rather alarmed by what the Servant was going to do next.

"Must disassemble this immediately. A complete waste of resources. Will reassemble them as something more fitting." Aratron cryptically declared, the rings turning like buzz saws as he seemed intent on shredding Tapio's hard work to pieces. Had his Servant gone nuts? Did he summon a Berserker by accident?

@Nat

Tapio Veli Ilmari 22-Nov-20 08:18 PM

Tapio hadn’t forgotten how quickly those rings had shredded the pipe organ earlier. The fact that Aratron decided to summon them now was anything but reassuring. There were only three things in those rings’ immediate vicinity: Aratron himself, Tapio, and his tent. Aratron didn’t strike him as a suicidal lunatic who’d off himself just because he got stuck with an underwhelming Master, and with how much he boasted of his teaching prowess, the chances of him offing his Master was miniscule at best. Which left him with only one option...

‘NO!’ The boy skidded back a few steps until he had his back against the tent and spread his arms wide, like a hen protective of their chick...only that his short stature did him no favor at all. Tapio looked pitifully small against the off-white tarp of his tent; he could barely even cover its entrance, let alone the whole thing!

‘If you want to get at my workshop, you’ll have to go through me first. I spent a whole day putting it together, so it’s worth at least a hundred points in my eyes.’ Tapio flailed his arms about as he delivered his warning. ‘Could it be that you don’t like it because you’re too tall?’ He suggested, shifting his feet ever so slightly so he could keep positioning himself right between them and the tent and block their advance.

This’ll work, right? Aratron wasn’t so pissed that he’d disregard his Master’s safety to dismantle a piece of junk (in his eyes only), right?

Tapio had no clue. In that moment, Caster spoke more like a machine than a man. Cold, calculating, and every bit as logical. The only way to get through to a machine was to push the right sequence of buttons, but Tapio couldn’t even figure out whether this ancient spirit had any buttons to push! His only lifeline resided in the fact that this Servant of his seemed to be obsessed with imparting their expanse of knowledge…

‘If you’re so great at a teaching, then surely you must know that teaching with examples is only effective when your students can keep up with them? I don’t have those fancy hula hoops, so even if you tore down my workshop and mumbo jumbo’d them into a castle, there’s no way I can copy what you do and make a castle of my own. So why don’t you leave my workshop alone and, hum…’

A metaphorical lightbulb flashed above his head.

‘-And use it as a basis for improvement! Didn’t you say you’re a master at imaginary spaces? Just make some extra room for yourself and I promise I won’t invade your personal space without permission. Sounds good?’

@Dad

Aratron 23-Nov-20 01:57 AM

The rings inched closer, threatening to chew through Tapio's tent. Disregarding his own safety, the boy put himself in front of the razor sharp blades. Just like he had expected, the spinning circles screeched to an immediate halt.

"What do you think you're doing? Step aside." Aratron commanded, yet Tapio remained firm. He gave his side of the story, yet he could sense Aratron not even deigning him with eye contact. The Servant's eyes were still fixated on the tent, as if seeing it as a stain that needed to be cleaned.

"Spare me the sentimentality. A workshop is a mere tool. Nothing less, nothing more. You would be hard pressed to find a magus that actually cares about their workshop being destroyed or rebuilt." He said with a cold voice, slowly raising his arm and tapping at his forehead.

"For our primary workshop resides in here. Anything else is disposable. I did say that minuses turn to pluses with my presence. And there is no bigger minus than having such a middling workshop in a Holy Grail War. With such flimsy defenses, it is akin to sabotaging yourself. Please, step aside, student. I do not wish to harm a pupil, for it goes against the code of conduct. The first thing I shall address about this horrendous tent will be its discrimination towards my kind."

Tapio would believe Aratron's words. They didn't seem like the type to kill their own Master. However, they still planned on destroying the tent, and Tapio's joke about their height seemed to have worsened matters. Time for Plan B.

Just when Aratron was planning to shove the boy aside and tear the tent to pieces, the latter muttered a few, curious words.

"...Hmm. I suppose there is a reason that teachers abide by a scheduled curriculum, after all." Aratron mulled over Tapio's statement a bit. "A rat can learn how to navigate a maze, but it still takes time and effort from it. For once, you are correct. It is naïve of me to expect others to be as intelligent as me, after all."

He shrugged, with a statement that would tick off any prideful magus. Thankfully, Tapio was no proud mage. If anything, he was just glad he got his Servant to calm down.

"Very well. I shall make it your first assignment. Watch carefully, student." Aratron warned, giving a determined glare as he ignored the tent and started focusing on his own creation instead.

Territory Creation, the mark of a Caster class Servant. Thanks to it and his links to alchemy, Caster is capable of creating a workshop fitting for an elite magus in the span of seconds. The floor underneath Tapio started to quiver as the tent started blowing. The rings had entered inside of the tent, various noises being heard inside of it as Tapio wondered if his Servant had gone back on their word.

"It is done." Aratron said cryptically. He stepped forward, sighed a bit as he was forced to crawl on all fours, before finally crawling inside of the tent and disappearing.

Tapio's Servant was inside of the tent, it seemed, yet the boy could not register their presence. Where had they gone to? He couldn't even see their shadow inside. Did they actually make an imaginary space?

@Nat

Tapio Veli Ilmari 24-Nov-20 12:15 AM

‘Haaaaaah.’ Tapio let out a breath he’d been holding for far too long, deflating like a balloon as he crouched down and buried his face between his knees.

That. Was. Close!

He didn’t go through the hassle of drawing an entire summoning circle just to end up a homeless hobo! What did he even do to deserve this? Why couldn’t the Grail hand him a cool knight, or even a beatstick would do! Why did he have to take lessons from his own Servant? Something was wrong here, did he fail to assert dominance during the summoning ritual? Was that it? A lack of guts?

Whatever he lacked, his Servant certainly didn’t. Aratron didn’t even ask about his preferences before setting to work on the tent. The whirling and sound of various things breaking, coupled with the comical bulging of the tarp from the outside, was extremely worrisome to Tapio. Sure, his luggage consisted of only a single suitcase’s worth of stuff, and sure, he had cast a few elementary preservation spells on them, but could they really hold up against Aratron’s rings of mass destruction?

There was only one way to find out.

Following the sound of Aratron’s footsteps, Tapio reluctantly got up just in time to see this self-proclaimed teacher’s rear disappear into the tent, which looked largely the same from the outside. Did Aratron really create an imaginary space, or did he simply create more room by smashing all his belongings? Could he file a complaint somewhere if the latter were true?

The boy gingerly made his way towards the entrance, his heartbeat quickening from a mixture of concern and wonder, not unlike an audience who had been given permission to peek behind the stage of a magician’s performance.

‘Um. I’m coming in, I guess. I hope you left my soccer ball alone…’ Tapio debated on the doorstep for a few seconds, then made up his mind and slipped into the tent.

@Dad

Aratron 24-Nov-20 05:22 AM

Tapio cautiously approached the tent, wondering if it would blow up in his face at any second. He stood outside for a few seconds, before slipping in and taking a quick peek...

flash

His eyes! They were blinded! Whatever was inside, it was incredibly hot and dazzling. The sun was still outside of the dusty old church, of course, but a sun inside of a tent? That was simply surreal. Did Aratron summon an entire sun somehow? No, that would be far too draining. He would probably feel the mana expenditure by now. But then what...?

...

His eyes were gradually adjusting to the bright light. Eventually, he decided to brave the tent one more time, in an effort to reclaim his lost base.

He found himself in a desert, the inside of the tent looking like he had been teleported to a land unknown. There were no structures to speak of, nor an end in sight. It was just vast nothingness and warm sand. There was no sun, either. Instead, the light inside of the tent came from...a replica of Saturn, located in the middle of the sky. It was an odd sight, considering that Saturn wasn't a star and couldn't emit light, yet the planet was clearly blanketing the desert with rays of sunlight.

A reality marble? A pocket dimension? An imaginary space? Tapio wasn't sure on what he was looking at, but it was mindboggling to him. Since when could Casters make something like this?!

"So, you've finally entered. It is about time. I was done around 37 seconds ago." Aratron muttered, standing next to the only piece of furniture in the endless desert: A workbench filled with pouches, items and magical devices that reminded Tapio of objects he saw at school.

"Take care to not walk away. This world is a mere illusion created by a simple spell of mine. Walk too far, and you'll eventually just touch the borders of your tent. Unfortunately, this archaic machinery seems to have limited my abilities." Aratron said with disdain as he pointed at his own body. The Servant Mystic Code was that much of a hindrance to him? Tapio would shiver, wondering how strong his Servant would be in their prime.

"But as a workshop, this will suffice. I have improved on your overall working area and instated my own workbench. You are free to use it as you see fit." Aratron muttered, walking away from it as he pointed to a random assortment of items hiding underneath it, alongside a soccer ball.

"Your belongings are there. Also, I have taken the liberty to reinforce your paltry runes. I doubt that even the most talented of Magi will be able to detect your presence now when hidden inside of this bounded field. However, there is a small problem: The field relies on me and me only. Were I to perish, your tent would return to being a normal tent. Keep that in mind, student, for it will be present in next week's mock test."

While that detail was nice to know, it also brought Tapio back to reality. Mock test? What was Aratron on about?

"...What's with that bewildered look? I did make it clear that this would be your first assignment, correct?" Aratron reminded the boy. "Your first assignment will be to create a proper bounded field. It must fit my specifications and demands. It must also be of the highest quality possible. If you get a failing grade, then I shall terminate my own life."

A bomb had been dropped. Tapio wondered if he was hallucinating. His Servant was willing to die...just to shove more lessons down his throat?!

"For the deadline, hmmm, let's see." Aratron mulled over a bit. "If I was summoned for a Holy Grail War, then clearly there should be other Cavalry class Heroic Spirits around. Beings who rely on their own trickery and Noble Phantasms are quite vulnerable to bounded fields, indeed."

A smirk appeared on his face.

"Student, I've got it! Your deadline will be after we've defeated Rider and Assassin. I'm sure that the knowledge you will learn from those encounters will greatly improve your handling of bounded fields. You may relax now, since that is very much an ample amount of time. Knowing the Assassin Class, however, they might already be making their move."

Aratron kept saying such ridiculous things with a straight face, yet Tapio was still trying to compute all of it. A Holy Grail War had just been turned into coursework. His opponents were now mere modules! A passing grade was also essential in case he wanted to remain in the war, lest Aratron kill themselves. The pacing of the war had now been dictated by his own Servant.

...You could say he was the unluckiest Master around.

"Alright. Now that your assignment brief is out, I see no further use in mulling over it. It is time to commence the actual lessons, now that the classroom is in order."

Classroom? Lessons? Tapio barely had an idea of what was going on.

Yet the entrance to the tent closed right behind him. It took him a few seconds to compute, before he realized he was trapped.

"For the next two hours, we shall discuss the fundamentals of bounded fields and try a few practice spells. After that, you may have a seven minute break before we resume. The rest I will develop on the spot, since I am still rather unsure on your proficiency with Magecraft, student. Indeed, this is quite the dire case. But be at ease: I, Aratron, the mightiest of all Olympic spirits, have never once failed to see a student graduate!"

He expressed with much pride, tapping at his chest and showing an ounce of emotion for once.

"Are you ready to devote yourself fully to my teachings?"

@Nat

Tapio Veli Ilmari 25-Nov-20 03:50 AM

Tapio was sweating and it was not from the heat. What kind of genius would base their workshop in the middle of a desert? This is taking pocket sand way too far. Granted, Aratron did leave his belongings alone, so in an effort to dodge Aratron’s piercing question, Tapio fixed his attention on his own workbench and went to pick up his soccer ball. He dusted the sand off, then threw the ball upwards and started juggling it on his head.

bonk, bonk, bonk

The steady rhythm and the feeling of hitting his head against something solid - but not solid enough to hurt - cleared his head. Apparently, he got himself stuck with the spirit of some ancient professor who had probably died salty over his teaching career. So salty, in fact, that he came back with a grudge and was even willing to stake his own life on his new self-assigned job.

‘You don’t get a say in that.’

The soccer ball bounced off Tapio’s head one last time. The boy caught it in his hands, then started spinning it on his finger as he finally replied to Aratron. It was quite the assertive reply too, something that Aratron had failed to sense in the boy before. Was Tapio finally asserting his dominance? Could this Master actually be...competent?

‘For starters, I don’t even know if we have a Rider and Assassin in the city. There’s no Holy Grail War, just a civil war, I think. Sorry if that disappointed you.’ The boy quite literally dropped the ball as the soccer ball slipped from his finger. He caught it in a hurry. ‘I mean, I’ve only been here for a few weeks myself. If a Holy Grail War is happening, it should be in the newspaper already. I bought a few myself, they’re right there if you want to check.’ He pointed to a stack of papers on his workbench.

‘So, if we never find Rider or Assassin, can I take it that my deadline will be extended indefinitely?’ He asked with an expectant glimmer in his eyes.

Did Tapio really drop a truth bomb in order to worm his way out of an assignment?

Fully expecting his Servant to be sidetracked by the newspaper, Tapio inched backwards until he was certain that the entrance to the tent was within grasp. Aratron’s words didn’t fall on deaf ears; he at least remembered the illusory part of the desert, and was going to use Aratron’s momentary distraction to make a break for the exit! Screw lessons, screw the tent, screw this church! He’ll just find another hideout in another neighborhood!

@Dad

Aratron 25-Nov-20 08:20 AM

Aratron had constantly kept a straight face throughout his introduction, to the point that even his more ridiculous ideas were corroborated by his serious tone. However, he was taken off guard by Tapio's shift in demeanour. Instead of speaking casually as usual, the boy sounded a lot more confident in their following statements. Quite the perplexing shift in attitude, yet something very much worth documenting.

"...I don't get a say in that? And who decided that, exactly?" Aratron raised an eyebrow, trying to get a reply out of Tapio's snide grin. The boy came clean and revealed the nature of his summon: There was no Holy Grail War to partake in. He had been summoned outside of a proper battlefield, and his student seemed to have no intention of participating in an actual battle.

"...An extended deadline?!" Aratron exclaimed with much disdain, just like how an actual professor would react to some snot-nosed brat asking for an extension. "This simply won't do. Give me a minute to read."

The Servant headed over to the newspaper, sifting through pages at superhuman speeds as he skimmed through all of the relevant information in less than a minute. S.E.R.V.A.N.T. thefts, declining temperatures, a feud between mafia and aristocracy. Anything but Grail Wars was being discussed in the papers, much to Aratron's chagrin.

"....I'll have to revise the assignment brief. Such pitiful working conditions won't do. How is one supposed to teach when the facilities are missing in the first place?!" The Servant expressed with much irritation. He squished the newspapers into a small ball and tossed it in the sand.

"Student, I have a few questions."

"...Student?"

But the distraction had succeeded. Tapio was on his way out! He walked past the endless desert, trying his best to reach the borders of his tent. Eventually, he could feel his palm touch something light. Something that he could poke, push and shove. This definitely felt like his tent! Now, he needed to--

"Squawk, squawk!"

Before he could continue, he heard a haunting shriek from behind him. Something tugged at his leg, before dragging him behind with incredible force. Jaws had sunk deep into his socks as he could feel a bit of pain around his ankle.

Sand got all over his body, the boy being dragged back to his know-it-all of a Servant. Aratron stared at them with much disappointment, arms crossed like he was ready to deliver a stern talking to. Meanwhile, Tapio finally noticed the creature that had dragged him all the way back to his Servant's workshop. A small, gargoyle-like creature that could barely meet his stomach in terms of height. It seemed fairly weak, but its materials and colour scheme reminded him of something else. The pipe organ from earlier?

"It seems I made a wise decision in summoning an additional familiar, just in case." Aratron said. "I was worried that other Servants would have made their move, especially those of the Assassin Class. Therefore, I summoned an Olympic familiar with capabilities to track down those who are naturally furtive and scheming. It appears that includes you too, my dear student."

The gargoyle snarled, glaring at Tapio with an evil eye. It was clear that the boy's shrewd demeanour had somehow triggered the familiar into attacking him.

"It is rather curious how you haven't noticed it until now. I specifically ordered it to be your shadow and follow your every move. As a protector, of course. I had no intention of violating your privacy. In fact, it was this familiar's will alone that brought you back to me. I gave it no orders of the sort, because I didn't need to. Perks of Numerology, one would say."

As Aratron flaunted one of his many skills, Tapio realized that he had been outsmarted, outplayed, bamboozled and gargoyle'd. The Servant slowly crouched down and forced Tapio to stand up, while dusting sand off their Master with much care and attention.

"That being said, it seems like you have no need for this familiar. If there is no Holy Grail War, then there is no Assassin. Therefore, no need for such precautions. However, you have much to answer for, my student."

"Why did you summon me?"

A question echoed in the desert. It seemed as if Aratron was wondering on his purpose in his Master's eyes. Tapio would wonder whether he should come clean or make up a new reason on the spot.

"...Take your time with the answer, of course. This is an open book test with no strict time limit." Aratron reassured, patting the boy's shoulder once before returning to his professional demeanour. It seemed like he wanted to avoid pressuring Tapio too much.

...Or so it seemed.

"Now, for the second question: What are the main characteristics of an imaginary space, a pocket dimension, a reality marble and a bounded field?"

Tapio remained flabbergasted. What were they--

"...What's wrong? Class is in session. I did warn you. We shall continue this lecture for two hours before your seven minute break. I made it explicitly clear just a few minutes ago."

Not even the lack of a Holy Grail War made him go back on his promise. Unbelievable.

"I'll think of a proper deadline another day. For now, simply focus on the lecture at hand. Student, take out your notebook. There's a long day ahead of you..."

Aratron's Perfect Math Class Continues In Round 1 !

@Nat