Amongst the darkness, sword and lance clashed with dizzying grace, two silhouettes striking at one another in a deadly waltz. The fight had lasted for some time now and to the untrained eye, it seemed that neither combatant was gaining the upper hand. But it was only a matter of time before Avenger would strike his opponent down, for the enemy knew not his identity... his weakness. Even if they did, Achilles was among the strongest from the Age of Heroes, the demi-god that slew the Trojan hero, Hector, in single combat and had brought the ancient city to its knees. Casanova had spent many days stalking their opponent, preparing for this fight. What was more, Casanova had managed to summon an extra class servant, the version of Achilles representing both his strongest and lowest points: Achilles Alter, the hero that had just lost his best friend and vowed to break the Trojans piece by piece. They did not plan to lose.
And lose they did not.
In a dramatic change of events, Achilles struck his opponent down, a saber-class servant wearing a crimson gown and with golden locks. The blow was non-fatal, but the force at which she plunged into the ground made it clear who the winner would be. But Achilles knew better than to allow the woman to stand, instead falling upon her with boiling rage and conviction. He threw his lance down upon her, missing her face by mere inches before plummeting down atop her. Before she could regain herself, Achilles was above her, his hands catching her neck between metal gauntlets. With hungry eyes the servant gazed into her emerald kaleidoscopes, his fingers tightening their grip until he could hear the sweet melody of gagging underneath him. In just a moment, he could snap the servant's neck like a twig.
"Enough, Avenger," Casanova's voice echoed off of the cathedral halls, the young man stepping into the moon's light. Achilles did not listen, instead tightening his grip upon the Saber's throat until she could not breathe completely. "I said, that's enough," he repeated himself, prepared to use a command spell if necessary. Luckily, the servant acquiesced, loosening her grip upon the servant's throat just enough so that she could breathe once more.
"Why? She is our enemy." Achilles growled, his strong, yellow gaze still beaming upon the woman beneath him.
Casanova migrated over towards the woman in the corner of the room, who watched the scene unfolding before her with shocked eyes. The young man flashed her a warm smile, before reaching out towards her slowly. "Shh. I'm not going to hurt you." He promised her, his hand gravitating towards the side of her face. With tender grace, the man cupped the side of her cheek, rubbing her smooth flesh gently. He was tall, handsome, with dark hair fashionably disheveled and with an attractive, plunging jawline. But above all, his sapphire gemstones were enchantingly mysterious.
"Your servant has been defeated. According to the rules of the Holy Grail War, I am obligated to take both of your lives." He explained, his hand traveling down the side of her face and underneath her chin. Carefully, he tipped her chin upwards, forcing her to look up at the man that had defeated her. "But... I will give you another option. One that will not be offered again." The man grinned, pausing momentarily so his words could sink in.
"You and your servant will become my property... my servants... my slaves." He cooed quietly, yet clearly, underneath his breath. His terms were non-negotiable and a single time offer. The glare in his sapphire eyes made it clear that should his rival refuse, that the both of them would be killed without mercy. Before she could speak, Casanova placed his finger upon her lips, silencing her. "If you agree to my terms, both you and your servant will fall to your knees and beg for your lives. If you do not, I will kill you both." The man snapped his fingers, waving towards Achilles, who begrudgingly released the servant from his grip. He motioned the servant towards him, waiting for the two to do as they were told... or die.
"Beg and live. Or die. It is your choice."<|im_end|>
The saber-class servant exuded a haughty confidence that her master could feel soothe her skin and seep into her very bones. Something had been off about this night but the duo had pressed on and remained vigilant in their quest for the Holy Grail. Omnipotent wish granter that it was, the legendary chalice and limitless mana within was sought out by all masters of the Holy Grail War. All that mattered was the wish -- the truth, the Root. So despite her gut advising her otherwise, they had forged on. Neither of them could have been prepared for the onslaught that awaited them inside of that grand, empty cathedral. It was a wonder that the clash of steel had not drawn the attention of others, the darkness that veiled the building acting as if it were a cloak to disguise them all-- perhaps it was. Met with another powerful servant and his equally imposing master, though the girl in question had yet to see much of him, the red-clad swords woman immediately went on the offensive, swinging her blade with a grace worthy of the former Emperor.
Sparks flew, evidence of the clash of steel, and for a time Rie believed they might have a chance. While she sometimes believed her brusque servant to be far more flashy than absolutely necessary, the young woman had come to realize that all that flash and pomp was what made Nero, Nero. A woman of Rome, Emperor to the people and a lover of fine arts, beauty, and valor, all the things that made her servant so confident and assuring that the Holy Grail would be theirs. It was these traits and this woman that Rie placed her trust in.
Saber's bright smile fell after so many blows. Crimson turned black and those bright green eyes narrowed dangerously as the lance-wielding servant before her countered blows and laid into her with a strength and severity she'd not quite seen before. In the far corner of the room Rie could do little more than watch as this dark, intimidating force decimated her partner. "Come on, Saber." The whisper like a mantra, a silent good luck charm. They could win, they just needed to gain a hint of an upper hand. They could win...
But it was not their fate. "Saber!" The trusty sword in which Nero used clattered on the ground next to her. The breath left her lungs after the blonde saber struggled against the might of her opponent. Rie's eyes widened and blinked rapidly, mind reeling from the fast turn of events that had occurred. The opposing master made his presence known and called off his servant from dealing the final blow. Try as saber might, with the grip he had on her now, she was in no shape to retaliate or protect her master. With a deep inhale once her windpipe was released, the saber gasped and swallowed, the bruise already making itself known in the form of a fingertip necklace around her throat. "Praetor--"
Rie couldn't -- didn't -- trust that smile. It was a predator's smile and all it did was make her blood run cold with fear. His fingers brushed her skin and she couldn't help but flinch at the contact, giving him the satisfaction that he had caught her, not that she was sure he needed much more proof. Oh, but how wrong she was. His sweet words and gentle caress did little to dissuade her from the thought that they'd both be killed. He could claim a notch on his belt and count one less in the running for the Grail, dispose of the both of them with little effort and note a care.
Gray eyes flickered over his shoulder to where the male servant with piercing gold eyes had her saber pinned beneath him. Soon she was guided to look at him and Rie swallowed, limbs shaking despite her best efforts to stand strong and show that she was just as powerful a mage with no fear. What could he possibly offer to her? Surely he didn't mean to play a game with her, taunt her with the hope of freedom only to drive a knife into her back. Oh no, it was far worse, even. "Wh--" she'd barely formed the words on her lips before he silenced her, both eyes and finger effectively keeping her shut up.
"Praetor, no!" Nero croaked, still beneath the Avenger. Rie had little time to think. Nero joined her side moments later, and the dark haired girl knew what she needed to do. Her saber could see it too, the blonde's angry features looking so foreign on that usually smiling face. "Praetor, you cannot--"
"Just-- ...just.. do it, Saber." Was she so cowardly? Did she fear death so much that she would so quickly give up her family's dream of the Holy Grail-- so that she could live as a slave to a mage? Had she really fallen so far...? With little else to say and legs crumbling beneath her-- whether due to the shock, fear, and anger or acceptance of her situation-- the young magus fell, palms flat against the floor and head hung low, dark locks obscuring her vision. Moments later at the behest, and with little more option lest she sign her masters death warrant as she stood, Nero fell into position beside her. Please spare us our lives and in return we accept your terms..<|im_end|>