tvk | ⚔ 029; [video]

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lancer (diarmuid ua duibhne)

⚔ 029; [video]

[In the afternoon, Diarmuid put a call out on the network--running the bookstore was getting off to a rocky start, but he'd managed to get a break at least.]

...This may sound like an odd question, but did anyone else have a strange dream last night? I'm not sure it was like anything else that I've eve--

[Static.]

[The next thing shown was a video of a strangely dreamlike quality, slightly faded and seeming not entirely connected with reality. Images came in a few quick flashes as if a channel keeps being changed in search of something--first is shown a child with bright golden eyes and a brighter smile. He was almost always at his father's side--or hiding behind him, when it came to seeing an average group of women passing by.]

[It was unmistakably Diarmuid, more so when the view switched to the first knight of the Fianna as a teenager, playfully grinning as he sparred against a second knight with flaming red hair. Likely the most notable thing about that last moment was how heartfelt and truly happy his smile was--while he smiled often, it was almost always with some tinge of broken sadness, something he'd never had in those days.]

[Static again, for only a second or two.]

[When that ended, there were no quick flashes--next came images far clearer. This was the story of a knight who never wanted fame, least of all in the way he received it. Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, the unwilling thief of his lord's fiancee that paid for his crime as only a traitor could.]

[There was no static after that, but the video seemed to cut out for a moment; if one listened carefully, they would have been able to hear a possibly familiar voice.]

['In the stories of legend, you are fairly well known for womanizing and adultery. Were you not intending to seduce your master’s fiancée?']

[It had been too much to bear. A lesser knight would have snapped under the strain long before even becoming a Servant. Diarmuid...he was different. He didn't mind accepting others' hatred, as long as he kept to what he believed was the right and honorable thing. But Kayneth...it had been too much. Being so hated and mistrusted, it made him sick and tore at his heart until there was nothing left.]

[That quiet and shy child with the bright smile, that playful teenager surrounded by his friends and fellow knights, that compassionate and self-sacrificing knight...broke.]

['Unforgivable...I'll never forgive you! You dead men who are slaved by fame, you who desecrated the glory of knights... Let my blood stain that dream! I curse the Holy Grail! I curse that your wishes will become disasters!']

[This was a man who had never known hatred, never felt rage until that one moment. No matter how unhappy his circumstances had been in life, he met it all with calm acceptance. And yet over the course of a single Holy Grail War, that legendary calm and patience had been brought down to nothing, crushed under the heel of an equally broken magus.]

[When the illusions broke, when reality cut back into the impromptu recollection of that which he wished he could forget, the video showed Diarmuid looking deathly pale and utterly horrified.]

[Without another word, he cut off the video and sank into the nearest chair with his face in his hands.]

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I doubt someone like me could ever be graced with good fortune.

[The Archive looked at him, then came to a conclusion]

If you will meet with me, I have two stories to tell.

If you wish to meet me for whatever reason, I'll have a little time later in the day.

If there is a cafe, I will meet you there at the time of your choosing.

I'll be leaving the bookstore in a few hours--there's one not too far from there.

How many is " a few"? That could be as little as two to possibly eight or more, depending on your position at the store.

O-oh, I'm sorry. Er...what time is it...about four and a half, I think?

I was teasing you. I have little chance to do so to my bodyguard back home when he does the same to me. I'll see you then, Diarmuid.

...I knew that.

[WHY DOES EVERY WOMAN HE KNOWS GIVE HIM A HARD TIME....]

I'll be there.

Then I will see you then. [She smiled briefly at him, then turned the feed off]

[True to his word as always, the glasses-wearing Diarmuid would be quietly waiting for her with a cup of tea.]

[The Archive sat down across from him, smiling] Hello, Diarmuid. How was your shift?

It was alright. Without Gilgamesh around, things there seem as calm as they were when I first took the job. I don't think I'm well-suited to own it, but I'm enjoying myself.

So Gilgamesh has been here as well. Interesting.

Diarmuid Ua Duibhne. I have two stories to tell. Two of a man, of great and terrible things he has done. Will you listen?

We were acquainted back in Fuyuki, but merely in passing and nothing more. having met him here, I can't say I like him very much...but no, that's unfair. I suppose he had his moments in which I could respect him.

[He sighed, reaching up and taking his glasses off.]

I would always listen to those who wish to tell me something.

Another Servant. I have to wonder how one would manage to get Gilgamesh to be a Servant to anyone.

[The Archive settled herself so her hands fell in her lap and sat still, looking at Diarmuid.] Last year, there was an event concerning a group of fallen angels named the Order of the Blackened Denarius and a single wizard. Harry Dresden, of the wizard's White Council. I was called in as a neutral party to watch the proceedings. They were to talk and come to an accord. Instead, the Denarians sprung a surprise attack with Dresden, my bodyguard Kincaid, and myself inside of it. They activated a trap to cut us off from outside magic, so all we could cast with was what we already had at the time. I hid myself under a veil, but they used Dresden's life as a lever to make me unveil myself, and proceeded to use gas to knock me out. The trap was for me, so they could steal me away and thus torture me.

[The Archive took a deep breath, trying not to show how it affected her] They were adept at torture. In winter, they kept me outside on an abandoned island and stole my clothing. They cut my hair, and put me in a magical cage so perfectly made that I could not break out. That was if I could concentrate long enough to do so, as they rotated the sphere the cage was randomly. Their goal was to make me believe that no one could find us and that no one was coming for me. That the torture would continue. But if I decided to take up the coin and allow my body to host one of their fallen angels, then the torture would end. [She shook her head] Dresden was looking. He wrote a note, one that I could know instantly as the Archive, letting me know he was coming. And he found me. He drove the Denarians back and smashed my cage. Diarmuid, watching that man scream in rage and pain as he broke all my bonds was perhaps the most heroic thing I have seen from anyone, past or present.

[She fell quiet after the first story, watching his face intently]

I don't claim to know, but I'm sure his Master had quite a lot of difficulty.

[He listened carefully as she spoke, expression steady and nearly unreadable--for Diarmuid, the lack of clear emotion said just as much as anything else could. He was not one to hide emotion whether it was positive or negative; joy, happiness, despair, and most recently anger were all displayed as clearly as the mark under his eye. So for a near-complete lack of any of those to be present on his face...that meant something, even if Diarmuid himself wasn't certain just what it was.]

[Maybe he was finally breaking. Maybe there was just a part of him that was dead inside, after all that had happened. All the possible explanations Diarmuid could think of honestly frightened him, just a little.]

...I'm not sure I understand. Why are you telling me this?

[She smiled briefly] I have another story. I was not there personally, but reports were written and thus I know about it.

When Dresden was training some new recruits for the White Council's Wardens, they fell under fire. In the resulting confusion, two of the recruits were taken, Terry and Tina Trailman. They killed one ghoul and captured the rest. At the time, only Dresden and a fellow Warden, Carlos Ramirez, were available for a rescue. Dresden interrogated one of the ghouls in their native tongue [Here, she looked disturbed about something, but she let it go] and found where they had taken the children. They made their way through a Way in the Nevernever- ah. The realm of the fae, and found the nest the ghouls had made. They found the Trailman twins, dead. Terry had his throat torn out and his femoral artery punctured. Tina had her chest, from the muscles to her breasts, torn from her. Dresden lost his temper and burned the ghouls in the cave. The report Warden Ramirez wrote for this incident goes on about what he did there, but the part I wish to speak about is what he did after.

[The Archive looked at Diarmuid calmly, taking in his expression] Dresden took one of the ghouls captured back at the camp and buried him in the sand, using fire to fuse the sand into glass around his neck. He then calmly picked up a jug of orange juice and walked over. He then poured the orange juice over the exposed head and made a trail with the juice to a mound of fire ants. He let the other ghoul go to tell his allies about what he did. Dresden was more than happy to allow the ants to pick the ghoul to death, but after a talk with Warden Ramirez, he pulled his gun and executed the ghoul.

[She closed her eyes, a flash of pain crossing her face] My point, Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, is that great men are capable of great things. Many times they are good, such as saving me from a group of fallen angels that wished to recruit me to their side and thus have the Archive's knowledge as their own, but there can be times it is terrible. But it never invalidates the good you have done. It merely means you are a great man, with a great destiny. What you have done in the past, the cursing of the Grail... does not mean you are not also a great man.

...

[He kept listening as she continued, lack of expression slowly giving way to a faintly uncomfortable look. hands fidgeting idly with the pair of glasses he held. He'd taken to wearing them since shortly after his arrival, and only a small handful of people had ever asked why. His eyesight was absolutely perfect, so why on earth make it seem otherwise? When he was asked, he always answered with one thing or the other--he liked how they looked, he didn't want normal residents looking at unusual gold eyes too closely, or something equally minor.]

[And he never lied. But when it came to that, he'd never told the entire truth. Wearing normal civilian clothes, hiding behind forest green frames and glass lenses...he was utterly unremarkable then, near indiscernible from any other normal human. And that was how he liked it.]

[Maybe he was great and noteworthy to some people. He would have to be, in order to become a heroic spirit. But that was nothing he'd ever wanted. Fame and notoriety, especially gained the way he had done so, was nothing Diarmuid had ever desired. He had been happy as just a knight in service to another, and if he couldn't quite have that again...then the ability to even for a moment pass as normal and unremarkable would be just as good.]

...And if...I don't think I'm great by any means to begin with?

Then I believe you have deluded yourself. You can do great good and great evil in the world. The question is... which do you wish to do? Do you wish to be a knight and help bring greater good to the world? Or break from that and bring evil in?

...I don't want to hate or curse anyone, not again. All i want is to be able to help people. Even if I end up trapped in an eternal cycle of failure and seeking redemption in vain, I want to try.

[The Archive smiled a bit] You remind me much of Dresden. You both believe to be ordinary men... and yet are capable of so much. And you both use it to atone for past mistakes.

I've made far too many mistakes in my life--no, in my life twice over. I wish that I could say I was ordinary, but I know that would be a lie. 'Ordinary' is something that has been far out of my reach since I was very young.

I have done all that I can for as long as I can to help other people before myself. But I neither think I am great by any means, nor have I ever thought I deserve the attention I have earned as a so-called hero of legend.

Many great men do not see how great they are. They fail to see the significance of the lives they have saved, or the spirits they have raised, saying it was all part of who they are.

... Dresden calls me Ivy. I have no given name, as my mother was indisposed the moment I was born. He doesn't see the significance of giving me a name, or at least the full of it. He knows it makes me look upon him favorably. He fails... to know that my name gives me reason to call him my first friend.

...Ivy. That's a nice name, I think.