As will probably surprise some people, I'm not dead yet. Maybe. Fallen under some kind of apathy spell lately, so I couldn't manage to drum enough motivation to put this up even though it's been done for a while. I was going to discuss something about this chapter's contents here or in the footer, but I can't remember what it was... Well, if it was of any importance, I'd not have forgotten it in the first place.

Ah, when assassin's words 'spike', so to speak, he's speaking with his regular voice stacked atop Bazett's. Otherwise, it's just a very raspy Bazett.

...maybe that was it?

The Three T's of Victory

Chapter 11

"If I may be perfectly honest, Mr. Pierce, I do not believe this place is the best choice for holding any kind of play. Especially one that you say will attract the whole world's attention, absurd as that claim may be." Looking around a desolate field, half-dead trees casting long shadows in the early morning light, a young man addressed his companion. The former site of the Fuyuki Municipal Hall, the park erected as a memorial for the great fire, was as bleak as ever. "Despite being a park, this place hardly counts scenic. And I don't think that any actors you try to recruit will be all that enthusiastic about performing here."

"There is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so. No, my dear Issei, this is definitely the perfect place." Taking out tome bound in pale-yellow snakeskin, the man, clad in flamboyant clothing centuries out of date, began to flip through its worn pages. "Initially, I had thought your temple would make a good place to set up shop, so to speak. Unfortunately for me, it seems something else has taken first dibs. And interfering with that one, considering my current situation, is nothing but a death flag."

The young man merely tilted his head, obviously not understanding what his quasi-mentor was talking about.

"But that is neither here nor there, this place suits my needs better anyway. The time for banal chatter has passed. The stage needs to be set up, and we have much work to do."

…

"Don't we need a permit for that kind of thing?"

"Ah, right you are Issei." Clapping his open hand and fist together emitting a 'pon' sound, the tall man nodded towards his companion. "Alright, first we get a permit, and then we have much work to do! …where again does one get a permit around these parts?"

"Probably Fuyiki City Hall-""Onwards to City Hall!""-and I have no idea where it is."

"Onwards to the internet!"

Needless to say, they had a long road ahead of them.

The Three T's of Victory

"What do you mean, proposition? Give me a good reason why I shouldn't just cut you down right where you stand? You tried to kill my Master before, what could you possibly want with us now?" And how did it get all that stuff from Master's workshop in the first place? This most certainly meant that our security had been compromised. In addition to this, this revealed that Assassin had to have been spying on us for some time before our initial confrontation. Otherwise how would it know that Master had those tools and ingredients and where to get them? The Servant had obviously been able to avoid detection by Saber and myself and was now gloating, it was infuriating. "Are you trying to show off? That you could have killed us at any time, is that it? Speak!"

"Ki. Kikikikiki. Such a thing would hardly be profEssIOnal, and I am nothINg if not a prOFessionAL." Its tone patronizing, as if insinuating something, the Servant reached up and adjusted the mask on its face, the seemingly ever-present toothy grin revealed for a moment. Its sickening presence and abhorrent double-voice grated on my nerves, and I had to keep my fists clenched at my side so I didn't reach up and strangle the perverse Spirit. "But that is neItHEr here nor there; I come to offer you a deal. I am pasSINgly familiar with alchemy. I know of the draught your MASter is taking, and that he likely cannot live withOUt it. So I bring these as a peace offERIng, of sorts, to show my…sincerity."

"You can take your 'sincerity' and shove it up your ass!"

"Tut-tut, I haven't gOTten to the important part yet," Assassin said with a raspy chuckle coming from behind its hand as it motioned with its bound stump of an arm towards my prone Master, "I have knOWledGE of what it is that possesses the boy, and hOW to…deal with it."

The Servant had barely finished the sentence before it found my sword at its throat.

"Tell me what I want to know or you lose your head." A single drop of blood went trickling down the blade, Assassin's skin pierced by the gleaming edge. "Tell me!"

"Now nOw, if you kill us, my knOwLEdge of that thing dies with us." Wagging its finger in a chiding manner, Assassin nudged the tip of my sword away from its neck. It then once again laughed that horrible, sickly laugh that nauseated me as much as the too-sweet smell of foetid water and mildew that permeated this place. "Besides, you haVEn't even heard whAT I want yet."

"…All right, speak quickly," before I gave into temptation and cut you to ribbons.

"I dESire two things." Lifting its good hand up to its face, Assassin held out two fingers. "One is relatively simple. After I fix him, I want your MastER to brew me some of his drAUght. As you can probably see, my cOnDItion in sharing this body with my Master is far from perfect. It is likely that, at thIS rate, we will both perish before the week is through. Balance is nEEDed, however much I may lOAth it, and the draught can grant us thAT. I require this be made at my reqUESt at any time during our peaceful interactions."

So that was the real reason Assassin brought Master's stuff along. So much for 'sincerity'. "…And the second?"

"I want you to kILL the Servant Lancer."

The Three T's of Victory

Cold. The night was cold. Her skin-

-my skin-

-it burned. But the night was my realm. Even with a solid body I was invisible; there was none who would stand in my way.

Yet the night, the city, were now being claimed by another. This would not do. The tattered cloak of dreams slowly encroaching on the area must be stopped-

-Banish the false god!

This would not do. It was an obstacle. This would not do. But killing that boy would only inconvenience that thing, for it would simply find a new thurifer. This would not do. He must be sealed. Had Rider refused our little deal I would have made an attempt-

-bury it in a hole-

-by force. Thankfully that Rider had no grasp on the situation. For as long as I held the Master's fate in my hand I had a thrall, however unreliable, in his Servant. And maybe if I was lucky, he and Lancer-

-lost lost lost lost her lost-

-would end up eliminating the other. Taking out Rider's Master was no longer a viable strategy, and I had little confidence on surviving a prolonged battle with a regular Servant. Especially considering how the last one ended up…even if that encounter weakened Master enough for me to exert more influence in out 'relationship'. Either way, I had a lot of work to do and the night was not getting any younger.

…ah, perfect…

The Three T's of Victory

Waiting was hell.

I never had much patience to begin with, but recent events certainly tried what little I actually possessed. In fact, I couldn't know if Assassin had just decided to go reveal our location to one of our enemies instead of leaving to fetch 'a certain item' like it said. Why it didn't bring said 'item' with it in the first place was beyond me, and the Servant had been quite evasive about it. That thing had no honor; it couldn't be trusted. It wasn't even a real Heroic Spirit. But, unfortunately, I had no other choice at the moment. Master's safety took priority above even my own misgivings.

However, the Servant's request – or, to be more exact, the stipulations on it – definitely made me curious. While I understood wanting to eliminate an enemy Servant, and the Servant Assassin's general inability to take standard Servants in battle, why him specifically? I mean, sure, it was obvious that Lancer was an overcompensating pervert, but I couldn't see why he had to be singled out. Though having to keep it secret from Assassin's Master (by method of not speaking of it around the Servant ever again) certainly made me suspicious. But it was not like I had much choice in the matter at this point, so I couldn't look a gift horse in the mouth…no matter how much I may have wanted to.

I supposed that I should have just been thankful that I was not sent against Saber in this situation.

A slight rustling of leaves outside indicated that Assassin had returned, followed by the sound of something substantial being dragged behind the Servant. Upon its entering the cave, I saw that Assassin had brought an unconscious woman with him, and was carelessly pulling her along by her arm. This did not bode well.

"So, this woman was the 'item' you left to go fetch? What would you need someone like her for?" Playing the fool came as naturally to me as breathing. I knew through harsh experience that in the end denying the truth never made it go away. Far from it, in fact it often served only to make things worse, but I could not help it. There was only one reason Assassin would bring in an unconscious woman back with it: to use her as a sacrifice. As the twelfth of Charlemagne's paladins, this certainly went against everything I stood for in life. I used to rescue women in similar situations to this, so finding myself on the opposite side of the divide was not amusing in the least. Was I going to just sit here and let Assassin kill this woman? Even for the sake of my Master? "Seriously, is this absolutely necessary? I mean, I'm sure there's another way we could do this. Why don't we just put her back where you found her? I know that might be difficult, what with that stumpy arm of yours, but-"

"Cease your prATTling. In order to save your precIOus Master I hAVE need of prana, fuel that nEITHer you nor the boy can provide." With a clack the Servant bit into its thumb hard enough to draw blood, using the appendage to sketch out a strange design on the stone floor. It looked not unlike a pentagram used in orthodox spellcasting, but was distorted as if seen through the reflection of a moving stream. "ReTREIving one who has gone to walk the sands is nEVer an easy task."

"'Walk the sands?'" Was that literal, or some kind of metaphor? I wasn't all that good at metaphors. In fact, if there were any kinds of wordplay I was actually any good at it had to be innuendo and double-entendres. "What do you mean by tha…?"

Reaching into its robe, Assassin pulled out a worn-looking wooden bowl and my question died on my lips. Even from the other side of the cave I could sense death radiating from that mundane appliance. It was no Noble Phantasm, or even something that had ascended alongside the Servant like my sword, but whatever it was, it had played a part in the deaths of countless. Seeing that, I knew if I wanted to stop this I would have to do it now. Yet, I would not. I would follow my heart and protect and serve Master as well as I was able.

Placing the bowl at the rightmost tip of the pentagram Assassin pulled the still slumbering woman over its lip and, with a deft motion of its wrist, slit her throat with a black knife and poured her lifeblood into the crucible. I did my best to hide my revulsion over the callous act, but I wasn't sure I succeeded.

"His soul has gONe to walk the dead lake-shores of the Rub' al Khali, cALLed into service by the detested thing." Carelessly tossing the newly-made corpse to the side, Assassin once again pulled out one of its knives. Instead of using it to cut into any flesh however, the knife seemed to simply liquefy and pour into the bowl alongside the blood. "He is wELL on his way to becoming one of the white mAskED figures that act as acOLytes and vessels to what my ancestors called Kaiwan, Rephan, or, once they learned of its true nATure from decipherING texts of the Xanthic Folio, simply the detested thing. They DARed not call it anything else, for spEAKIng its true name, the nAME given to it after that city long fallen, invites only diSASter." Pausing to let out a raspy laugh that quickly devolved into a wet cough, Assassin proceeded to pour the contents of the bowl onto the cave floor whilst mumbling something that hurt my ears just listening to. However, instead of spilling into a formless puddle like I had expected, the liquid metal started writhing like a clump of maggots within the pentagram and began flowing into a strange shape resembling nothing more the veins of a leaf. "I have hEARd many a tale about this being in my yOUth and had hoped that I'd never have the fORTUne to encounter any trace of its existENce."

"But why Master? Why has a monster like that possessed him?"

"Why, you ask?" Inspecting its handiwork, a small blood-red token no larger than a denarius, Assassin simply let out a snort. "There's no rEAL reason for it, there never is. Your Master is practicALLy an open door for any MALignant spirit to come strolling through. I'm honESTly surprised it's taken this long for sOMething of this sort to happen. As for why thIS being specificaALLy? It appears that sOMEone has taken adVANtage of the War, and the stress it puts on reALity, to slip in his own ritual. I'd point my finger at Caster, but that is merely an assUMPtion as no one besides an ancient magus would be inSANe enough to call upon something like this. Kikiki, though I'm ONe to talk, I suppose."

I wasn't sure I was supposed to hear the last bit, or see the way the Servant glanced at its bound arm as it spoke, so I just nodded dumbly.

Walking over to my Master, whose condition had worsened to the point that he seemed to be made more of cloth than flesh, Assassin deftly pulled a small nub off the back of the token. Upon closer inspection, it appeared that the small charm was actually an earring of some sort, as evidenced by the small needle sticking out of the end of its 'stem'. Without any further fanfare, Assassin quickly lanced the small earring through Master's right earlobe, capping it in place with the nub. In an instant, the ragged fabric extruding from my Master's body began to recede, slowly crawling its way back to being pink flesh. Whatever bling that Assassin had decided to decorate Master with, it was effective.

"The Elder Sign should supprESS the worst of the symptoms, at least temporarily, though it will do nothing for the Reality Marble slowly encROACHing on the city as he isn't its only source." What was an Elder Sign (I could literally hear the capital letters) and…wait, what was that about a Reality Marble? What the hell was Assassin talking about? I asked/demanded as much, but the Servant was too deep in its own thoughts to notice or care. Before it got to the point where I was considering taking out my sword again to get it to talk, Assassin seemed to remember it wasn't alone. "Your Master should be safe for the time being, though cannot vouch for his sanity at this point. The fact that he hasn't woken up and stARTEd raving can be taken as a good sign however, kikikiki, so I hope you can keep up your end of the dEAl when he wakes."

Looking over at my Master, his tattered clothing and unnaturally pale skin now the only trace of the ordeal he went through, then glancing at the corpse remorselessly discarded by the cave entrance, I hoped he wouldn't hate me for what I had to do for him.

The Three T's of Victory

Well, this definitely threw a wrench in her plans. While she could still sense that her Archer was still around, the marks on her arm proved this, her Servant had yet to turn up. Rin couldn't keep an agitated sigh from escaping her lips as she nursed on a cup of lukewarm tea she had made an hour earlier. She only had one Command Seal left, not something she could relinquish easily, even if it was to return her servant to her side. And for some strange reason, there was something muffling her link with him, preventing her from ascertaining his location.

This would not stand. She may have failed in summoning Saber, and the Servant she ended up with may have been insufferable, but these were nothing but bumps in the road to winning the War. Even Archer's disappearance would not stop her. Of this, if nothing else, Rin was sure.

The Three T's of Victory

Whatever I had expected would happen when Master woke it certainly wasn't for him to start tearing at his own body, rivulets of blood running down his arms where his unnaturally sharp fingernails pierced the skin deep into the muscle. The sun had just come over the horizon when I heard a stirring from beside me. Assassin had taken to resting further inside the cave, claiming that the night had exhausted it whilst refusing to answer any further questions, so that left my Master being the only probable cause.

Upon seeing my Master in such a state, I did all I could to restrain him. He fought me tooth and nail the whole time, even going for my jugular with his bloodied incisors. Trying to talk him down did nothing but make him spit more of that gibberish from yesterday (along with plenty of regular spit) at me. Damn it all, I knew it was too much to ask for that his mind would come out unscathed from the daemon encroaching on his soul, but this was worse than I had feared.

And while I had certainly hoped he'd one day assault me, this was definitely not what I meant. Although, I could not deny that I deserved this for what I had let happen here. The pain I felt from having my Master's grasping fingers furrow through the exposed skin of my face, bypassing my natural resistances, was naught but punishment earned. Punishment I would take gracefully. But not Master, he had nothing to call this fate upon him. I would not let him come to any more harm, especially from himself.

Eventually, after a few minutes of this, he started to calm down. While Master was still far from coherent, mumbling strange words under his breath, at least he wasn't trying to harm both himself and me. His mutterings growing quieter and quieter, Master once again slipped into a fitful slumber. Assassin had yet to return from deeper within the cave, and I was loathe to leave my Master unattended, so I just sat at his side once again.

"Let the red dawn surmise

What we shall do,

When this blue starlight dies

And all is through"

As my eyes were closing of their own accord and I began drifting off, the prana I had been receiving from Master once again reduced to a trickle by Assassin's charm, strange words spoken in an even stranger – and almost musical – cadence made its way to my ears. Despite what I had feared, the sorrowful tune had not originated from my Master.

The situation was far, far worse.

"Why, why have you done this to me?"

With the gash in her neck grinning dementedly at me, the woman Assassin had killed – the woman I had let be killed – lunged.

[Break]

And there it all is. Like most of the chapters I write, it's been patched together over months of on-and-off writing.

In the King in Yellow tradition, Hastur is often equated to the god Kaiwan. Kaiwan (or Rephan) was a star god worshiped by the ancient Israeli apostates, most likely from intermingling with the Egyptians, Assyrians, the Akkadian Empire etc. [And this isn't the first instance of such a thing happening; ex. Moloch, which is often mentioned alongside Kaiwan.] Evidence suggests that it's a bastardization of the Roman Saturn, as both the names Kaiwan and Rephan have their origins there, however indirect (one Akkadian, the other Egyptian). The detested thing(disgusting thing/abominable thing) is from the Hebrew tradition of either tacking on, and/or altering of a god's name to sound like, the verb shiqqus which means just that, in order to show disdain for the god and to try to discourage worship of it...or something.

The reference 'to walk the sands' is taken from the short-story In Carcosa, the King by Gary Vehar, where a group of archeologists discover the ruins of a city in a dry lake bed in the Rub-al-Kali (Arabia). Members of the team begin disappearing, while an ever-increasing number of white-masked figures can be seen stalking the desert.

The little poem at the end was taken directly from The King in Yellow (book), and may or may not be a part of the titular play.