IT was probably the tenth time Artoria washed her hands. She scrubbed and scrubbed at the insignia on the back of her right hand as if she were Lady Macbeth, but her efforts were to no avail. She hadn't caught sight of the tattoo in the dim light of the basement once the summoning circle had stopped glowing. Sure, she had felt a slight burn in her hand but thought nothing of it until the basement lights started working again, and she saw the intricate symbols that painted the skin below her knuckles.
"Why won't it come off?" She scrubbed roughly, mumbling under her breath, hoping that if she just scrubbed harder, the tattoo would disappear. She reached for the coarse green dish sponge, squeezing dish soap into it.
"Master, would you like me to explain it again?" The man asked, standing stiffly next to her by the kitchen sink. "You can't get rid of it, not if you don't use the command spells or fully retract your status as master. I'll run through the rules again."
"You've already explained it twice. I get it, the war, the servants, the wish and whatever, but you don't understand. I didn't sign up for this!" The reality of it all had settled when the tattoo had not washed off on the fourth try and when she realized the man was definitely not a creepy cosplaying stalker. "I'm just a student!" She turned to him. "I'm supposed to be worried about my marks, about my future, not be worried about dying in a war I never asked to be a part of!" She gave a frustrated sigh as she stopped rubbing and threw the sponge into the sink. Her hand was red and aching now (if she had rubbed it any longer with the sponge, it probably would've torn her skin), and the tattoo wasn't even a single bit less dim. "I live in England. I've never even seen a war, much less been in one!" She shut her eyes and drew a shaky breath.
The man barely knew what to say. He wasn't sure what could make her feel better, and so he remained silent.
"I want out. This isn't for me! I can't just compete in a war! This is fucking insane."
"Master, if you wish to revoke your status, I will not argue. I would not want you to force yourself to be involved in something you despise. I do ask you—before you decide to break your contract with me—if there is a wish in your heart that you would fight for, what would it be?" The man asked. His eyes held curiosity but also seemed serious.
Artoria looked up at the man and then looked out the kitchen window. She pondered the question in her mind. Something she would fight for? World peace? No...it was too unattainable; people would always be cruel. True love? Was there even such a thing? No one knew what it meant to sacrifice; the world was too selfish to love anything truly. To see her brother once more?
A ringing in her ear grew deafening loud to the point that she had to cover her ears. The sound did not get muffled but instead grew louder and louder. She crouched the floor and groaned in pain. A memory that had been repressed for years had snaked its way back into her consciousness. The thought invaded her mind.
"If you could wish for anything from the Grail, what would it be?" The wrinkly hand of her great grandfather patted her head as the other held a thick leather book with some sort of insignia.
She looked up at the older man with wonder. "Anything?" She asked.
"Yes, my little princess, anything you could wish for."
Artoria pouted her lips. "If I could wish for anything, it would be to see my brother again." She smiled as she picked up her stuffed lion from the floor, wiping it off.
"Oh, sweetie, anything but that. You cannot bring anyone back to life," the man spoke, his voice soft, for he was talking to a ten-year-old.
Artoria tilted her head, blond little pigtails leaning to one side. "Then it isn't so omnipo-te as you say, grandpapa. If it were all-powerful, it would bring back brother."
The man smiled down at her, green eyes looking hopeful. "You have enough time to think about it. As the heir of the Pendragon name, the Grail will be yours, and I will do my best to train you for it." He then patted the book. "We have a great many spells to learn today. Let's get to it."
They all flooded back to her, the times she had spent with her great grandfather, tuning her craft. She had recalled the spells she'd recited, jewels she'd played with, artifacts she had dusted. Her family had been against the magic her great grandfather taught her, so much so that they made her believe it wasn't real after his passing. Her eyes grew as the ringing faded into nothing. It all made sense now, the dreams she'd had of a leather book, the visions of her great grandfather, the passing thoughts of magic.
Artoria looked back up at the man and stared him down as she stood from the ground. "What is your true name?" She asked. Had this been what her great grandfather had tried to prepare for her? Had this been the reason her family didn't like magic?
"Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, saber-class servant, at your service." He deeply bowed before her.
She took a step back, looking him over before she reached out towards him and took hold of his hand and analyzed the gauntlet. Of course! It had to be! She threw his hand and pushed past him, heading back to the basement in a rush. Of course, he followed after her.
Artoria stopped as they'd reached where the summoning circle had been. She looked at the floor carefully before she walked over the spot and reached the cellar door. The white door was slightly ajar, and she pulled it open before she stepped inside. The cellar was a long hallway lined with all sorts of wines and liquor, but at the end of the hall, there had been a cabinet door, one she'd opened only when she was a child.
"It has to be here," she mumbled under her breath as she reached the cabinet, which was also ajar (much to her surprise as her parents had kept it locked for the past twelve years). Taking a deep breath, she pulled open the heavy wooden door. The cabinet was filled with dusty trinkets of all sorts, artifacts that the Pendragons had collected for generations. There were swords, pieces of jewelry, even bits of cloth (almost like saint relics she had seen at churches). All of the items had small handwritten tags under each of them. "Oh my god." She took a step back as she noticed the empty spot. Her eyes fell to the nametag, and she read it. "Shit. It's him." Then at the very top shelf, she spotted the spine of a book.
"Do you believe me now, master?"
Artoria turned to the servant behind her before she looked back up at the book. She reached for it but couldn't quite get to it. She turned back to the man. "Get that down for me." She stepped aside.
Diarmuid nodded and took it down from the shelf, passing the book to her.
"The incantation book, it's here." Her fingers ran over the smooth leather that had seen many days and over the jewel placed in the center and the stamped insignia (which looked an awful lot like the command spells on her hand). "It's real...."
"What are they hiding?" She scanned through the book before shutting it closed. She looked back at the cabinet. "Why don't they like magic?" She spotted the lock which was on the floor, broken.
Then Artoria looked up at her servant. "You asked me what my wish was?" Her heart thumped faster in her chest, she felt a pit at the bottom of her stomach, and she immediately knew what she would wish for if she could. "Justice," she said, "Justice for my brother. He didn't deserve it. No one does."
"Is that really what you want?" The man asked. His brows knitted together in concern. "Justice?"
Artoria looked away as she nodded. "I was very young. I don't remember much of his passing, but it must have something to do with this." She pointed at the book. "This has to be the reason my family keeps so many secrets, why they hid this from me, why they never tell me anything about my brother."
"If justice is what you seek, master, let it be known that justice will be served upon all mankind, including yourself."
Artoria rolled her eyes. "So be it." She opened the book once more and flipped through it; the pages split to reveal a handwritten letter. She curiously looked at it and picked it up, looking at the incantation spell below it.
Let silver and steel be the essence.
Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation...
She continued to read the rest of the spell, which she realized was the summoning spell. She still hadn't known how Diarmuid was summoned, but that no longer mattered, he was here, and if he would fight for her, then maybe the Grail would grant justice. Artoria looked back up at Diarmuid. "If the Grail chose me to fight...then I will head its call."