The petite body of the silver-haired girl rested over the luxurious bed, covered with the Holy Shroud her Servant provided. The bed was also his doing, of course. Otherwise, it would be impossible to find the masterfully crafted piece of furniture where his master was sleeping in the ruined edifice that acted as their base of operations.
Now, the gigantic hero, clad in red, was tossing chunks of wood to the improvised fireplace after conceding his master's wish.
"I want a good night of sleep." He materialized the luxurious bed for that purpose, collected some wood to keep her warm and began to guard her defenseless body until she woke up.
Yet, despite his master's sincere smile of gratitude, he felt uneasiness.
(Just a nitpick, but just saying "unease" or "uneasy" would carry the same impression faster)
"If the world is still like this, then, what was the meaning of my death?"
The heroic spirit, Rider, asked that question to himself while his grey eyes looked at the dazzling flames.
The existence of the girl and the crimson servant were an abnormality in this war.
Accordingly, the seat of Rider's master belonged to a member of the Scladio family, a criminal group that could be described as a mafia conformed of magus.
(I don't think "conformed" can be used this way; and Magus should be pluralized here)
After making the appropriate arrangements with the organizers of the Holy War, a delegation was sent as representatives of Scladio, and began their preparations for the imminent war.
The selection of the servant took two factors into account: The morality of the summoned hero, and the benefits in the long term that it would provide to them. The Scladio never entered the war thinking about sacrificing everything for victory, choosing instead the path that would let them obtain the greatest advantage of the event.
In the end, they settled for a Servant who would not be concerned about morality, an anti-hero willing to sacrifice others for victory. An infamous spellcaster who could teach them forgotten mysteries and forbidden arts.
Baba Yaga, the terrible Slavic witch.
The Scladio representatives, which used others as sacrifice for their magecraft, thought of her as the perfect partner in the Holy War.
Soon, the factory that they used as a stronghold was filled with victims that were turned into sources of magical energy, provided by the family from outside the land were the war would be disputed.
As the spirit they were trying to summon was famous for her cruelty towards children, mostly infants were used as sacrifices to store magical energy. Drugged until they were little more than mindless dolls, they were slowly turned into magical energy for the future Scladio's Servant, until only one remained.
The last piece of the ritual, a little girl with doll-like features, blessed with unnatural silver hair. Apparently, her name and origins were a mystery that only the higher ups of the organization knew.
Blessed with great magical potential, the headmaster of the delegation that was sent to participate in the Holy War thought about taking her as his pupil and personal toy, but refusing to sacrifice her would be the same as betraying the Scladio family, which was tantamount to suicide.
"What a shame" Muttered the man as he touched the girl's face, but she remained emotionless.
Since that girl came to the land of the Holy Grail, she just showed the minimum reactions to cover her vital functions. She never batted an eye when she saw other's being turned into solid prana, or even talked to someone unless she was threatened. Most of the time, she just looked at the ceiling with a melancholic expression.
She looked at the transmutation circle at her feet without any emotion.
"Oh, so now I'm going to die" Thought the nameless girl, without giving it much importance.
She walked on her own towards the center of the circle, following the process that she saw dozens of times. Some of the Scladio mages looked at her, wondering what was wrong with that girl's head, who fearlessly stepped in
(to) her own death.
The deadly mechanism activated, her body began to scream. Yet, she accepted that pain without even twisting her lips.
"So this is how death feels, it's strange."
"I wonder, did it feel like this too, that time?"
"Although I can't even remember what
that time means anymore."
"Yeah, if I could make a wish..."
"If I could
remember my sins..."
Unconsciously, the girl obtained something in the gates of death.
Her doll-like body was too anomalous to have a will to live, yet, the senses that so greatly differed from those of humans refused to shut down.
It was not the desire to survive, but rather, the desire to know.
She refused to have such a meaningless death.
And, from within her head, an ancient voice asked a question.
"What is your wish, my master?"
"Ah... A wish" Her dying brain began to materialize a suitable shape for her thoughts.
At the same time, the Scladio mages began to prepare their defensive spells, feeling the immense surge of power that stopped the sacrifice ritual.
"I want to live!" The scream of the nameless girl froze the blood of the Scladio mages.
First, the headmaster thought that the ritual was a success.
With her dying cry, the life of the young girl became the catalyst to summon Baba Yaga. That was the most logical conclusion.
"No... Impossible" All the mages were in shock.
Yeah, it was perfect.
Even the temperature drastically dropped when the winter servant was summoned, filling the air with crystals of frozen prana.
Yet, the shape that was partially covered under the mist of diamond dust greatly differed from that of the cursed witch.
It was due to their miscalculation: They intended to use "The despair of children" to summon a kindred spirit, but the nameless girl refused to surrender, turning said despair into a wish.
The catalyst was reversed, becoming "The hope of children".
The cloud of perfect snow, resembling sapphire, revealed the shape of a man clad in a red and white best.
An old man, whose body was not that of the infamous sorcerer or a proud warrior, but rather that of someone who lived in opulence.
But, despite his well-feed
(fed) body, his clothes looked old and worn out.
It was not the armor of an immaculate knight, but the garments of someone who performed his duty faithfully during a long time. In a sense, it felt like his clothes had gradually grown older with him.
The face of the old man, filled with generosity, was partially covered by a long, white beard.
"The Seals! She has the Command Spells!" Shouted one of the mages, signaling the body that the giant held in his strong arms.
The unconscious girl, barely alive after the life-transmutation spell, had three glowing stigmas in her right hand.
The mages were ready to shoot a barrage of spells to the defenseless girl, when a sound echoed above their screams.
Bells.
The tingling
(pretty sure this should be "tinkling") sound came from the cloud of snow. Eight silhouettes stood majestically behind the wall of diamond dust, with their branched horns held high.
One of the stags began to advance, stopping besides the man in red, who carefully left the unconscious children in it's back.
"I assume that the piles of clothes around the factory are from other children whom I couldn't rescue."
The gentle expression of the old man became hard as stone, the immense presence of the Servant chocked half of the Scladio mages, forcing them to crawl as they desperately gasped for air.
The leader of the Scladio cursed his own pride. He was so confident in his success that he didn't care about cleaning the proofs
(the plural here is unnecessary) of his crimes.
"From the knowledge the Grail has granted me, there's no way to reverse the process, which means that you essentially killed defenseless children for your own greed, right?"
Despite his calm words, the murderous intent of the Servant was so intense that it blocked the Scladio's movements. Reacting to the quiet fury of their master, the seven remaining reindeer began to advance towards the immobilized mages.
"You can't do this! If you're that hero, then you are the definition of good! You wouldn't take another's life!" Screamed the leader, only to be answered with the cold stare of the crimson hero.
"You forfeited your lives when you spilled the blood of those children"
Hearing their master's response, the seven reindeer slaughtered the Scladio's mages, before destroying the piles of jewels made by human sacrifices.
After the almost instantaneous massacre, Rider used his power as a Saint to conjure a Holy Shroud that would prevent his master's deterioration.
After a few minutes, the girl opened her eyes, only to see the gigantic Servant she summoned.
"You were... The one in my head"
"Servant Rider. I'm sorry, I couldn't come earlier to your help. I've summoned a Shroud that will keep your body safe, but the damage you suffered during the transference is severe. Should you take it off, your body would likely collapse in less than a day."
The girl looked at the white cloth covering her left arm and part of her torso. She could feel an immense magical energy pulsating from within it.
"So, you were the one who saved me... But I thought you were only a child's tale."
"And what is the Holy Grail War, if not an occasion for legends and tales to manifest themselves?" Inquired Rider "From now on you should rest, Master. By the way, how should I call you?"
"Call me as you please, I don't have a name to begin with" Replied the silver-haired girl "If I were to win the war, then I guess my wish would be to regain the one my parents gave me at birth."
"I see... Then I shall cal you Alice until your true name is revealed. I think you already know who I am, but I will clarify it, just in case." Rider took a deep breath "I fight this war for the sake of a world where no children has to cry or scream for help. I was baptized as Nicholas, although I was latter called Nikolaos of Myra... But I guess I'm more well known as Santa Claus."
In that fated night, the nameless girl began her new life with the Servant of charity.
Rider was remembering the events of his summoning, looking at his sleeping Master, when a strange object came through one of the windows.
A piece of paper, which was quickly followed by a dozen more.
Out in the city, strange papers were falling like snow, filling the streets with their strange message.
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Originally Posted by Siege
). I can only wonder how you're going to set it apart from Shielder, since they both sound defensively oriented...
