The Library

Knosis

Grumpy Badger
Moderator
Benefactor
The ancient building looks as though it has been pulled from a time bygone. Inside, rows upon rows of books fill every shelf. Each book contains descriptions of countless legends from different worlds. There is a magical air to this place. Once you walk inside, the doors will shut themselves and will not allow you passage for at least two hours. You must really be dedicated to literature to want to risk your life for two hours in this mysterious place.
 
Arriving at their destination, Revenant skids on the ground outside the library as Rider made sure that Jannik didn't fall off. Since the two had become one and ascended to the throne, Revenant had been able to comfortably go at speeds most vehicles couldn't match, and Rider had to make sure that during the ride his master wasn't reduced to a grisly paste upon the ground.

Picking up his master, Rider drops from the massive Wulgar, making sure to put Jannik down and check him over silently before reaching up to happily pat and scratch his dear partner, placing his forehead against the Wulgar and murmuring to him, before stepping back and watching the wolf vanish from sight in a near instant.

Looking towards Jannik, Rider gestures to where Revenant had been. "He'll keep guard. If he sees anyone enter, i'll be able to know." He tells him, before turning towards the Library, armoured hands on his hips. The walls to the ancient building were... well, he supposed they would be imposing. For a man who had participated in his fair share of sieges and battles against world shattering dominions, he felt there was this sense of... ancientness. Of weight. That this building had that none of the othere did. It was quite surprising, really. Although, what did he expect from the record of spirits that made up the Throne?

"I'll open them," He doesn't look at Jannik, his eyes still focused upon the doors. "And once we're in you'll need to stick close. No clue who or what is in there already. At your signal, we'll head in Master."
 
Jannik was reeling slightly from the trip as he was set back on the sidewalk. He'd traveled at such speeds before, or near enough, but that was usually via aircraft. On land, he'd rarely gone more than the local speed limits. As his body returned to its norm while Rider thanked his mount, Jannik did what he could to unscramble his brain.

"Right. Guard. Good." He cleared his throat and shook himself down quickly, almost like he was shivering in the cold, though it was beautifully balmy out. He turned with his Servant to look at the building, surprised at the gravitas he felt coming from it. A portion of him wondered just how old it was, and considered looking at it through a magical lens before the War was done. After all, he didn't recall it being noted in any of the travel brochures to Hanarolu. A part of him, his steadfast logical side, quashed the desire to inspect the building more, however, with expectations that it would simply drive him mad in attempting.

He took out a sheet of paper from the bag he had at his hip as well as a small gel pen. With quick, practiced motions, he drew a complex sigil, then folded the paper in on itself a half-dozen times. As he slipped the marked paper into his pocket, he smiled.

"That should hold for the two-hour time. It's a ward that actually wards my magical signature from scrying or senses outside about twenty feet or so. I'd offer one for you, but I don't think my magic is strong enough to suppress your aura, Rider. Sorry. Either way, I'm ready to head in. Let's stay safe, but get what information we can out of this place." He was a bit nervous, being out on the sidewalk, but the area around the Library seemed calm and almost empty of people. Strange, but not impossible in any city.
 
Rider laughs at Jannik's comment at being unable to suppress his signature, jokingly taking a flexing pose as one harm straightens and points into the sky, the other curling around to touch his shoulder. He holds the pose silently for the next few seconds before laughing to himself, dropping the pose and walking towards the doors.

Placing a hand on either side, Rider heaves. Massive walls of artworked and furnished stone let out an echoing grinding noise throughout the nearby area as the heroic spirit opened the door. As he does so, Magnan could have sworn he heard... voices. People he had known, long gone now. They flowed over and through him, and for a moment the Spirit even considered stopping. But he couldn't do that. He was The Defender. The bulwark of the innocent against the neverending tide of the dark. He wouldn't be cowed by some partially magicked doors.

With a shout of determination, the man throws the door open, the whispers and voices receeding as he and Jannik are greeted with the sight of endless row upon row of books. The place practically thrummed with magic, and Rider looked back towards Jannik, extending a hand. "The doors will slam shut once we've both in. From there, I follow you."
 
As the doors opened, Jannik could hear voices as well, but where Rider heard the voices of those he once knew, the voices Jannik heard were unknown to him, and didn't readily flee him when the doors opened fully. They spoke of him, but in the hushed tones of those who spoke of scandal and intrigue. His family history, pure until he'd arrived to stain it, was questioned, the voices hinting that perhaps his mother hadn't been faithful. He might not even be the true heir, for what else but infidelity could spawn such a magical failure from such prominent bloodlines? As he stepped forward, crossing the threshold, the whispers seemed to die and fade, but their words lingered in his ears, boring into his brain to nest and stay.

He grimaced, even though the rows of shelves before him held an immense and wondrous amount of knowledge. It just didn't make him happy, knowing that the outside world thought of him as a perfect screw-up. As he tried to beat back the darkening mood that was creeping up on him, he turned to look at Rider. Despite his size, he looked small among the shelves. For a moment, Jannik could see him, not against a backdrop of books with his armor encasing him, but standing on a grassy hilltop, helm off, his face fully fleshed and strong against the sunrise. Beside him lay a mighty wolf, a creature he could only assume to be Revenant.

As fast as the vision had come upon him, it was gone, leaving him staring at his Servant's helm with a mixture of curiosity and confusion.

"This place," he began, "is ancient and not of this world, is it? There's no reason why I'd have been given that vision just now otherwise." He trailed off and turned, stepping further into the Library, the hush of which was oppressive but not uncomfortable. He looked back over his shoulder and waved for Rider to join him, the turmoil of his mind smoothing out into an ambivalent acceptance. He still felt the raw, ragged edge of anger that the whispers had brought out in him, but he could also sense a deeper, inner peace that he had yet to touch. It was distant, but attainable, though he didn't think he was necessarily on the path towards gaining it.

"Rider, what was the name of the thieving magus who stole Seals to become a Master again?"
 
“Max. Max Foster.” Answers Rider quietly, the large man looking around and feeling small both in stature and power compared to this place. He supposed that since it was directly linked to the throne it would make sense but that didn’t mean he liked the feeling of being small.

At least he could no longer hear the whispers, although he wasn’t sure the same went for his Master. He had a troubled look about it, and had glanced back at Rider with confusion on his face. He almost asked what was wrong but eventually decided it wasn’t his place.

“How do you plan on finding anything in this colossal building?” He questions the mage. Despite being a creature of it, he had ey little knowledge of magic. “Does the library do it for you? I’m afraid if you needed speed we left Revenanr outside.” He jokes, laughing at the mental image of rushing around trying to pick up all sorts of different books.
 
"Max Foster. I know that last name, at least. The Foster family is a family of mage-killers, though until now they've only ever served to stop those who have used their magical prowess for nefarious ends." He continued walking forward, absentmindedly trailing his fingertips along the wood of one of the shelves, the touch causing a tingling feeling. The magic was so dense here that every single thing was absolutely full of it. It was a masterpiece of arcane construction and a wonder of beauty, but one that wasn't hitting home as deeply as it could've. Not with where his thoughts were.

Even with that inner ambivalence, something he could only assume was the doing of the Library itself, Jannik couldn't help but feel the thoughts from just moments before, thoughts that had darkened his mood like an eclipsed sun, rising and swarming through him. That, in conjunction with his knowledge of who Max's family was, sent his mind reeling, the very real possibility of his life's end rising up before him, forcing him to acknowledge it. He paused at the end of the row, turning his head to look into the distance, the rows of books appearing to go on for a distance incongruous with the exterior dimensions of the building.

"Magic is the key to this place. I don't know how it works, at least from how the magic itself makes it happen, but something, intuition perhaps, tells me that it's fairly simple. You desire to read on a subject, and the book is in a row near to you, though how far you have to walk is questionable, especially if there are multiple individuals here. With just us, it might not be so bad, but multiple Masters might cause some havoc." He turned and walked into the next row, wondering about his own family, about the whispers of scandal, and after a minute or so, he found a newspaper, folded neatly, in a rack by the rows of books.

The headline read, "Schreiber's Sunk? Scion Skills Subpar." Jannik looked at it for a moment, then turned away. His thoughts had seemingly been correct on how to find things, but that hadn't been what he'd been planning to find. He looked at Rider for a moment, then wondered who he had been. What had his legend been, to make him such a hero to the people he'd lived among. As he walked closer, another vision snapped before his eyes, showing Rider without his armor, helping a farmer to set the blade on his plow. It flashed away with the magus's very next step, and he stopped, reaching out to the bookshelf on instinct. As his fingers gripped the spine of the book and pulled, he looked at it.

"Tale of the Defender, Hero of Windcrest," Jannik read aloud, only to open the book. With a sound like a sigh, the pages fell open, revealing the image of Rider as he'd been in his youth, proud and strong. it was just as Jannik had seen when he'd first looked at his Servant after entering the Library.
 
After mentioning the book about Rider's past, and the resulting brief bit of conversation that followed it, Jannik returned the book to the shelf and began to search in earnest for information on the Servant that Rider had referred to as 'Lady'. He didn't have much to go on, just the name and the notion that she was a woman who fought while wearing armor, but he did what he could with what he had.

Initially, he stumbled across what seemed like useless information, nothing more than a collection of tales of various women who fought on battlefields of all kinds, armored completely. Frustration began to boil through him as he searched further, the feeling that he was wasting his time at the forefront as he looked. He searched and searched, but his luck was sour, and he couldn't find much of anything. There were not a few instances where he sat down in a huff, his frustration winning through and causing him to pause.

In these moments, he couldn't help but envy the slightly easy posture of Rider, standing beside Revenant. They looked so natural together, that it reminded him of how barren his social life had been, both as he'd grown up and once he'd entered the adult world.

Eventually he pushed past his stubborn streak, and though it hadn't seemed like it, when he checked his watch he noticed that they'd already been in the Library for nearly four hours. His surprise was evident, but it became even more so when he went to tell Rider, only to slide on the slightly glossy floor as he spotted a book sitting innocuously close to the edge of a nearby shelf. Picking it up, he realized that it had some of the information he'd been looking for.

It wasn't much, just a scattering of names and a couple crests, notably one of a laurel leaf. He looked up at Rider briefly, alerting him that he was going to see what else the book contained, then seated himself on the floor and leaned against one of the shelves to study some.

Rider watched as Jannik looked through the grand library for hours, evidently meeting little to no success as the various groans of frustration and frowning told him, as well as the fact that they had been here for at least twice as long as they had expected to be. Maybe he should try his hand at it?

Standing up, the large man placed a hand on Revenant’s head, attracting the wolf’s attention. Pointing towards Jannik, he simply said “Go play.” Before heading on his way into the library, the sound of barking and the scrabbling of massive paws against tiles filling the area behind him.

At first, all Rider did was pick out books at random. A green one here, a blue one there, a black one high up. Yet they all seemed to be on the general topic. Women warriors, or some sort of cabal of guardians. And with each book, the more focused and refined it became. Until he found it.

It was small, about as big as you would expect from a children’s book, but the lettering was positively tiny and crammed together. Reading through it, Rider knew he had found the correct book. Turning around a full 180 degrees, because he hadn’t bothered to take any sort of turn or complicated maneuver, he made his way back towards where he had come from.

Eventually making his way to the entrance once more, he was greeted by the sight of Jannik held limply between Revenant’s jaws, the Wulgar pausing in whatever he had been doing as his Rider emerged from the labyrinthine shelves.

“Put him down.” Rider told the overgrown puppy tiredly, too mentally drained from reading to bother with being a bit gentler. At his tone, Revenant dropped Jannik like a sack of potatoes and sat on his haunches, tongue wagging as the dog gave a smile.

“Here. This is what you were after, right?” Rider said nonchalantly, gently throwing the book into Jannik’s lap before making his way to scratch Revenant behind the ear. “Were you bored when I was gone?” He cooed, doting on the massive murder machine. “Was Master a bad playmate?”

Jannik looked at the book that had been thrown to him, and was about to complain about how Revenant thought of ‘playing’, but thought better of it. He wasn’t at odds with his Servant, but they were a duo all their own, Rider and his mount. He dusted himself off and stood, picking up the book as he did so. As he read over the cover, he dropped the one he’d gathered earlier.

“And here I thought you disliked literature, Rider. Seems like I could rely on you for this sort of thing more often.” He chuckled and leafed through the pages, eyes flitting over various specks of information. He walked over to a chair, resting in it as he began to actually read the small book, the writing tough to read due to the size of its font.

As he read, he soaked up the information within. Here were details beyond what he’d seen in what he’d found. Again, the images of crests repeated, and there were names, though not Lady’ specifically. He was reading into her history, who she’d been, and while it wasn’t information that would help fight her immediately, it was leverage. It was control.

“Rider, this is fantastic. I think this might just be what we needed though we’ve spent far longer here than I’d intended to.” He looked at his watch again, surprised that another two hours had passed while the Wulgar had mucked about with him and Rider had perused the books. It was nearly midnight, after all.
 
Valerie blinked as the ground swept out from underneath her as their surroundings changed. The dark mahogany wood workings of her families living room was gone, replaced by the massive doors of an ancient library. "...Whoa," she breathed, her breathe puffing out around her in the night's chill. "Neat trick." She took a deep breath, pulling her shirt closer to her as she glanced apprehensively up at Lady. "Ready?"

She pushed on the doors, muscles straining against their sheer weight and size. They creaked open loudly, informing any lingering occupants of their entry. The heavy taste of magus smack over Valerie and she took a step back, hair standing on end. "...Maybe it's best you take the lead,' she amended, unwilling to admit this place unnerved her.
 
Lady blinked away the sight and smells of their safe house, as the cool rush of air buffeted at her cheeks. Rather than the upscale sitting room, a tall an imposing set of door waited for them. It was carved with intricate scenes but there were so many they seemed to shift, almost writhing through the heavy wood that extended into the mist as far as they eye could see. A flicker of a face came by, making a sudden chill come over her. It was not them. The images were cruel tricks to intimidate and it wasn't going to work. "Aye, let us enter."

Valerie opened the door causing a loud groan from the hinges, and Lady winced. If anyone else had come to visit, that sound alone would have given them away instantly. The sweet smell of vanilla and almond, a tell tale sign of old paper, over laid with the tang of magic met her. It was a brief reminder of the great libraries at home. "Yes, Mistress."

Lady didn't hesitate to walk into the library first, her boot heels barely making a sound over the hard stone floor. Rows and rows of shelves filled with books, scrolls, along with large instruments. They went far into the corridors and into adjacent rooms beyond. It was the largest library the swords woman had ever seen and it was absolutely teaming with magic, both dark and neutral. "Stay close, Mistress, and let us do our work quickly."

No sooner had the words left her lips than the heavy doors closed behind them then with a creak and an echoing boom of finality.
 
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The sudden noise of the grand doors opening and closing shocked Jannik out of the reverie he'd fallen into as he'd read about Lady's past. He looked up quickly, sliding the book back onto one of the shelves carelessly before standing up and pulling the small metal scribe he kept on him at all times. He quickly grabbed what appeared to be a pad of note-taking paper from a desk and on the cardstock backing to it he scribed a simple rune, the edges jagged and almost malformed.

Traps always were the fastest things to make.

"Rider, I don't think we're here alone anymore. I'm not exactly prepared for a battle, but if you think we can manage it and still get out, then it may not be the worst idea. If it's Max Foster, than this would be our best opportunity to take him out." He stopped talking and heard the clicking of heavy footsteps on the smooth floors of the Library. For a moment, Jannik tossed the idea up that Max was actually a woman, but the notion vanished. Rider had given him the same description Ruler had passed on, so unless he was wearing women's footwear that wouldn't be the case.

He could feel his nerves starting to flare up, but he quelled them. He spoke a few words of magic, and though he couldn't use them to cast spells, the words themselves helped him to keep calm. It had been a long process to make that work, but now that he was in the thick of things, and not even where those things grew thickest, he could appreciate the effort he'd put into it so many years ago.
 
Ridee nodded, eyes (metaphorically) narrowing as he listened to the sound of the heels. A woman? That could be... a small problem. He had to ether fight a woman, or run like a coward. Which was the greater of the two sins? To fight someone weaker than you in a mockery of a battle, or to run with tail between leg?

All it took was a glance back towards his master to understand what was needed. Reaching towards the young man, careful not to disrupt him from his work, the Servant ushers him forward as Revenant trails from behind. At each junction he made sure his shield covered it in totality, before ushering Jannik and the Wulgar along behind it, out of sight.

All the while he did this, Rider was thinking up potential strategies. He only knew of one woman in the whole war, and made sure to account for her in every idea, but really it could be anyone. Depending upon the type of Servant, terrain would be important.

As they got nearer to the entrance, and a sort of half plan soldified within the remains of his head, Rider stepped out into the open and into the sight of the... two people. One, he already knew. Lady, rather striking in her armour now that he got a good look at her. The other... must be her master. Black hair, with dark eyes and what had to be a near permanent look of disapproval, considering how well crafted it was. It actually somewhat reminded him of nursery mothers who had gotten sick of their job.

"Halt. You will go no further." He says to them, voice on clear display as he allows his shield to hit the floor of the room with a powerful thud, gauntleted hands clenched. "You will leave this place Lady, you and your master. Do force me to fight such a beautiful woman."

@Scarlet @aryamajor
 
Lady was no stranger to the clack of armor on the move and recognized someone move from the back of the stacks. Holding up her hand to Valerie, she signaled the woman to stop, then gripped the hilt of her blade. The weapon warmed under her gloved palms, at the ready.

Out of the shadows stepped a tall figure in full armor. A helm blocked his face save for a pair of blue lights where his eyes should be behind the slit in his visor. Who was this servant? There was no master in sight, but it was unlikely that a spirit would be here alone. Lady tightened her grip on her sword as her eyes traveled up the servant, measuring him carefully. What class of servant was this? Her blue-green eyes, searched and speculated until the man spoke. The voice was distinct enough to identify him with ease as his ultimatum boomed through the library.

"I would not think a man such as yourself, Mag, would banish a beautiful woman from your sight so quickly," she replied with an arched brow, "And you know as well as I that once the doors have closed they will not open for 2 hours. In which case, you have forced the fight. We did not come here to battle you or your master. In fact, given the current interloper in the war, I would not find the battle to be savory. I do not like needless combat and I am sure that you do not either."
 
As he was ushered towards the entrance, Jannik took off the suit jacket that he habitually wore. He quickly cut through some of the interior fabric, the rips forming runes themselves, transforming the whole of the garment from a suit jacket into something more pedestrian. As he put it back on, it resembled a hoodie, albeit with the addition of a cloth to cover the bottom half of his face. The whole item had also gone from a navy blue to a charcoal grey, as if the magic had leeched away some of the true color from the fibers.

Upon arriving, the magus stayed behind one of the shelves as Rider headed forward. he'd given the Servant no specific orders, but if it came down to it, he could always shout them. Until then, he simply peeked from behind. When he saw the armored woman, he almost dropped into a fit of laughter at the coincidence that the first other Servant he would see, the first of his many opponents, would just so happen to be the one he'd come here to learn about. Fate was toying with him in ways he'd never comprehend, he suspected, but despite the potential advantage he held, he wasn't planning on going on the offense. There was too much risk here, though the Library would likely be fine if there was a battle here. As the two exchanged pleasantries, Jannik stood and walked out, hood up and over his head, confident that his facial features, save for his eyes and skin color, would be relatively concealed from sight.

"Ah, the infamous Lady that my Servant has told me so much about," he said as he walked out, coming to stand beside Rider with an easy, even slightly cocky, posture. "And I assume you're her Master? I should certainly hope so, or there is something very, very strange going on here." He'd perked up at the comment she'd made about attempting to avoid unnecessary conflict, a thing he approved of no matter how little he'd expected it from others. He figured there would've already been fights, even if only minor skirmishes, between other Masters and their Servants. He took a good look at her for a moment, conceding mentally that Lady was, perhaps, one of the most attractive women he'd ever seen.

It was almost a shame that he'd have to make sure she couldn't stop him and Rider from attaining the Grail in the end of things. Almost.

"You say you're here to look into things, and that you'd rather face down this interloper? Conveniently, that's not too far off our own plans. You know who he is though, right? You know about the Foster Family, and what they've done for generations?" His question was something any notable mage family member could answer, but it would also show as a test of the knowledge they had already. He might help them, as removing Max would only further his own chances for the Grail, but he wouldn't necessarily give them everything. After all, information would win this war, and winning would be all that mattered, in the end.
 
Poor Valerie. She really stood no chance standing next to Blonde Goddess Number One right there. Not that she particularly cared. Looks and flattery ranked nothing next to her ever-present subconscious desire to become a stronger, more accomplished mage. Now call her a good mage, that would be testing her vanity. She was pleased to see Lady remained unaffected by the flattering words tossed her way, more proof to her that these two women were cut from the same steel. Which was a fact she appreciated.

She silently watched the exchange, lingering half behind Lady's protective form. She wasn't afraid, but she also wasn't stupid. Her whole family had died because of their miscalculations, and now she wouldn't be anything but thorough. She observed the causal banter and noted that this must have been one of the Servants Lady had briefed her on this morning. Er... Afternoon? Life was becoming timeless as the events of the war kept them moving. She stepped out a little as the master showed himself, watching as he sized up her servant with a... what the hell kinda look was that? She frowned up at Lady, half wondering if she could ask the woman to uglify herself or something. ...Or step it up a notch? Could they use any of this to their advantage?

Her attention flickered back to the unnamed master as she was finally properly addressed. She squared her jaw, stepping out of the shadow of Lady. "Yes. I know of them." She sized him up, running through the list of family names, along with their usual traits, which she had been forced to memorize up in her mountain seclusion. She strained to catch distinguishable features through his hooded mask. "What does that make you then? A Bellhoper? A Frankfot?" She didn't worry over her own identity, she was lost a decade ago to the books, and only someone as studious as her would be aware of the blip in the recorders regarding the second born child in the Ghuavenghjasgfhdjsg family tree. Never mind make the connection.

She noticed a smudge of ink caught unnoticed on the unnamed magus's pinky and gestured towards it. "Did you read anything useful? ...Maybe we can combined our knowledge for a lead."
 
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The much smaller master finally appeared from the depths of the shelves with his face covered up to his eyes. He walked with a saunter belying confidence, if not cockiness as he surveyed them. Lady observed them in return, and found slight amusement in the fact that Mag and his master matched in their attempt at mystery, with both their faces covered. More importantly, he didn't have the stomach churning smell of magic from Valerie's homes. This was not their killer.

Resting her gloved hand on the pommel of her blade, a playful sort of smile crept to her lips when he mentioned her supposed infamy. "Oh? I was not aware Mag knew so much about me over our small drink." It was possible that they had been looking into her past here, and if that were the case, it would matter very little. She would deal with it as she needed to, and it was far more advantageous not to fight at the current moment.

Hearing him talk about the interloper, she didn't reply. The name held no meaning for her other than that was the family of their intruder. Rather than looking back to Valerie, she waited for the woman to speak upon what she knew or didn't know.
 
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"Actually, neither, though you're not far off. Adolade Melianson, at your service. We're a bit of a lesser family, but we've been in the game of passing crests for about three decades now, so it's coming along nicely. It understandable that you might not know our name yet. And even though I know my family name means effectively nothing to you, because of that lack in notoriety, I will remain with my face covered. There is, after all, some benefit to an amount of anonymity." He chuckled, continuing to play off the psuedonym.

Jannik looked down, noticing the ink on his finger just as she asked her question. It had been a bit careless, but then again, he couldn't be perfect. Not yet, at least.

"Only some fairy tales of a woman who gave everything to disobey her father's orders. Not the prettiest ending for anyone, but an interesting read. Tell me, since I'm certain you both know this place has knowledge of the Heroic Spirits in its tomes, have either of you ever heard anything about a place called the Soul Forge? It sounds like a place I'd like to go someday. Maybe drip some magic in to bind it to myself and make it useless to everyone else." He sighed.

"Ah, but that might be too much. Or maybe not enough. Who would know? Anyways, you asked about my knowledge, and while I've got plenty, you'll have to make me an offer first. I'm not exactly willing to give up anything without getting something in return. Plus, I don't even know what it is that you want from me, anyways." He leaned against Rider's shield like it was a wall, his shoulder pressed against the unimaginably uncomfortable metal surface as if it were nothing. He made a mental note not to touch the thing again, if he could help it.
 
Valerie narrowed her eyes at the master. There was no lesser family with 3 decades of crests that went by the name Melianson. ... Was there? She hesitated, questioning her schooling for a moment. It was entirely possible they had remained off the map, three decades wasn't that long. They could have easily gone two without catching any noteworthy attention, and then there was the matter of her own decade of seclusion... but her parents wouldn't have sent her incomplete rosters to study, right?

For the first time in her life, Valerie questioned the validity of her parents judgement. In truth, they had made the mistake of getting killed, so they weren't gods; they could have made a mistake here too. How disconcerting.

Her expression only grew more pinched as he bantered and prattled, his way of speaking --indirect and full of himself-- Ugh. Compensating for something, Mr. Lesser Family?

"Nothing," she responded simply, her head tilting in a disregarding shrug. "I don't want anything from you. It was merely an offer. But since you seem to have so much of it under your control already, I'll clearly only be in your way. I'll leave you to it. Lady," she gestured for them to take another aisle that led deeper into the library. And she walked, not bluffing, seemingly taking his bravido at face value. She did have her own studies to attend to, after all. Let him die on his own if that was the path he wanted to take.
 
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Lady stood by and listened to the master talk, boasting about who he was and all he knew. He spoke like her brother in some ways, always trying to appear more than what he was. The name, she was sure was false. Why keep your face covered if you were going to pronounce your name to the world? Then again, perhaps it was a fashion statement and an attempt to look like his Servant, which made the statement funny.

The statement against her past made her bristle a bit more at first. Not the he could ever do that to the Forge, it was far more powerful than any single mage and a sole man controlling something like it was laughable at best. It was the fact that he would threaten such a thing against innocents, that prickled her far more. It was a certain sort of cruelty he only understood in part, but knew enough that he was willing to make flimsy threats. Mag and his Master were clearly not cut from the same cloth on some things which was a shame for him.

"Mag," she said giving a small nod of respect, before her blue-green eyes fell on his master, "You have heard my mistress, we offer our cooperation and have been met with insult. The offer is still open should you take it. Given the circumstances in this war, it makes far more sense to work together. We all have something to lose. However, if that is not the path you choose to take, I wish you luck."

With a sweep of her golden braid, she followed her Mistress into the books to stay close by, keeping one eye on her opponent as she went.
 
Archer's hand opened the door, and he strode inside with purpose. As expected, it sealed behind him, and he noted the time by a clock in sight...

His eyes widened suddenly as he simultaneously noticed the presence of others within. One hand gripped his revolver's handle, his eyes brightening as he brought his skill awake and ready. One was an armored woman bearing a sheathed sword striding out of sight, while the other of immediate notice was a giant of a man in full plate, a tower shield planted before him, while a slighter, cowled figure leaning against it.

The Servant kept his other hand free, loose at his side. What absolutely shitty timing I had to have.

Himself was unmistakably a Servant, his garb the same as when he'd been summoned, too outwardly off to pass as a Master investigating on his own. Likewise his gun marked him, being massive enough that a normal human would have difficulty handling, much less firing such a behemoth of a firearm. A moment later, he grimaced slightly, wondering if Ruler had found and passed along the same warning as he'd received, recognizing his appearance as rather...stereotypically malevolent.

"Well, hello there." The gunslinger called out, tense and poised to defend himself if needs came to that.
 
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