FATE\Deus Decipit

Chapter 72: Witness

 'If goodness and hope are virtues of the strong, Master, why should I serve someone so weak!?'

...

Aaron groggily opened his eyes to another day. In a sleep empty of dreams, all that occupied his mind was the previous, terrible night and the surely terrible future that waited for him. Staring into the stone ceiling, counting every dot on the ancient temple, his mind and soul protested the idea of making any effort at all, but he must, and he knew he must, and so, cricking and cracking, he lifted himself out of the cold cot.

9:18 am, The Temple of Hephaestus, the Acropolis

Getting dressed, he popped his back and allowed his eyes and mind to wander, firstly towards what needed to be done for today: he had to move, and move quickly, but he didn't know where. This was especially complicated by his box of munitions which was both heavy and conspicuous: wherever he'd go, there were a complicated set of requirements to keep himself secure, and it was far from obvious where that could be aside from some fortunately placed crack-house.

The second place it wandered was to his Servant, and the fight they had the night before. Guilt, anger, and other emotions he couldn't make sense of turned over and under at the thought, and, ultimately, he could reach no answer other than to simply pretend it had never happened, and to continue with the war in stride.

"Rider."

...

"Rider!"

...

"Come on, Rider! We've got work to do!"

...

He huffed, suppressing his desire to call his Servant any number of insults. Whether he liked it or not, they were stuck together, and nothing would come of ostracizing his only path to victory. Instead, he gathered up his clothes into his suitcase and began to fiddle around on his phone, doing his best to line up the map with his limited understanding of the local leylines. While doing this, he accidentally slid the screen to the left and turned on the camera, looking himself in the eyes.

He didn't care about his appearance, but he was still caught off guard by how much his hair had grown. He kept the sides of his head shaved, but, in the two-week-or-so period since the war began, he had some solid tuft going all the way around his head which made the attempted mohawk appear out-of-place. This perturbed him in an odd way, such a way that he couldn't describe and, in some effort to fix it, he pulled his bangs taught and cut them with his knife. He couldn't fix the odd way the top of his head transitioned into the rest, but at least his bangs he could do himself.

He sighed, not sure how to navigate the path forward, and peeked out of the temple, looking for some sign of what to do or where to go.

-But there, on the steps outside the temple, was a man he recognized. They had had a passing conversation or two, and, with the uniform, it was clear that this was a coworker. He was older, no younger than forty, balding on the top of his head with a thick beard and wide nostrils. His skin was tanned, though it couldn't be said if it was ethnic or a result of long hours in the sun.

What could be said with certainty, however, was that he was waiting for Aaron.

As he poked his head out, the man turned to meet him with piercing green eyes, "Ah, there you are. I was wondering when you were gonna wake up. You do realize that your shift started nearly three hours ago, right?"

"Uh-right. Sorry." He put on his best fake smile, but even he could feel how sorry the attempt was, "I guess I didn't get enough sleep last night- I really needed a nap, you know?"