The room was opulent to his taste. Too opulent. Cushions of velvet splendour, vases and calligraphies of respective frivolity and extravagance adorn the edges and walls of the rooms. He finds this... a dislike.
"Mew~" He looks to the side, to the not-so-empty cushions of the sofa. To an orange cat, fluff so unlike the ones he beheld in his time, yet the tone of its voice remains the same.
Sighing before smiling, Ruler picked up the cat and starts petting it, eliciting contented purring from the feline.
"Wound down at last, Ruler? Now that you're no longer looking with near unrestrained murder at my choice of upholsteries, how
are you?" The host, and the self-procrailmed first Servant to be summoned here, asked with no small candour. Around him, numerous cats of differing breed and colours flock, one making a nest atop the turban he wears and sleeping atop of it.
A strong voiced growl seems to escape his lips, "Am still processing... Archer." Truth be told, he does not know how to react to the information crammed to his brain of well,
everything. "And I will not resort to
vandalism, not in here."
"Alms?"
"Giving all these to the poor, after they are sold."
"A good answer and one I agree... but one on the bottom of the priority list. Isn't that right, Saber?"
A man, wearing an
'imamah that covers almost all of his face, nods. "I have checked, Jerusalem is bigger than any contemporary records that we have. Proportionally bigger yet the slices of the districts remain the same. And not only that..." His eyes dart towards the other two Servants.
Ruler closes his eyes, before opening them with clear disbelief etched to it, his vision seeing more than just the room the Servants reside in. "In each district, a well of water that never runs empty is shared. In times of prayer, each church, temple, and mosque are filled to the brim. In every single night, not one beggar can be seen huddled in cold with no shelter.
Subhanallah." Ruler's eyes watered then.
Saber nodded, an unseen smile graced beneath his scarf. "Which poses the problems of
why we are here. We are without..." His eyes crinkle in disgust. "Masters. In a world that apparently has no need of us. And
Yaumul Qiyamah this is not. Yet
clearly, we've risen from the
barzakh. So... no reason to disbelieve Archer that he reigned a holy city that has few needs of rulers. I came second and you can
trust me, Ruler. And you're the last... for now."
"Not for long. Or at the least, we're not the only
three." Ruler shook his head. "There are signs to the far west that speak of a power that's
not Allah's own. And it feels
older than _____" No words came from his lips, but then, that
was a word struck for a reason. "Saber, it would be your task to check that out. And
not to attack. Unless you are attacked first in which case..." Nothing more needed to be said, the implicit acknowledgement received.
"So what will you two do then?"
"I intend to keep lazing with the cats." Two pair of judging eyes bore to Archer. "What? I have no illusions of my capabilities compared to the two of you.
And this city has no need of rulers. Well,
Rule-"
"
You are underselling yourself, Archer." At that, the recipient stiffened. "Your achievement is not in doubt, though you could stand to be less of a jokester in this scenario. Your youth is no excuse in this."
Easing up, the Archer replied, "And dampen the atmosphere? Hardly~ Consider me the Hodja of the group, that works, no?"
Mock-helplessly, the Ruler turns to his compatriot, "There's no denying his wit, is there, Saber?"
"Par the course, really."
"I do not like this, Nitocris. Not one bit."
"Lord Ozymandias, we are... in the future." Caster bit her lips as the expression of the Rider turned to an ugly scowl.
"In the future where many have
forgotten the Gods." Rider growled. "This is more than unacceptable. Something
will be done about this. But first, confirm to me something. Our summoning. There are none who calls themselves our Master."
Rider's words were not a question. But Caster answered still as if it was. "To my belief, yes. Which is... odd."
"No," Slowly, the Chosen of Ra forced calm. It would not
do to lash out on his fellow Pharaoh. "The land remembers us, even if the people does not. It is
expected, not odd. Our renown sustains us here, without any further connection. But to summon the two of us..." Ramesses the Great rose from his throne. "Nevertheless, the state of affairs cannot continue. I will take reign. There are those of faith still among Egypt. They are aimless and weak and scattered in the winds but they are
there. I will
find them and forge anew." He looks at the Caster, whose posture looks more like that of an obsequious slave. Despite coming from a time older than him.
He'll do something about that later.
"Caster, you know better than I do that there's
something to our East. There's something
fresh. The boundary of this realm is one that seems to stretch to the beyond. If they know of us, then we should act. Take three of my Sphinxes and ride as far as you can and find the source of the disruption."
"Y-Yes, Lord Ozymandias!" With rapt attention, she nodded and turned outside, happy that there's a task at hand.
"Now... let's see how to deal with the faiths of this land."
The man walked. The hot desert sands scalds his bare foot and gusts of wind batters his frame.
The man walks. With his coat in tatters, with his figure wrong and frail, he continues wading through the desert.
The man will continue to walk. Not out of sheer determination, though it helped. But due to the thing in his bone-white grip.
A battered and dented but
clean cup.
And so, through the endless desert, he
will continue.
Jerusalem — The Sixfold War of Faiths begins...
