I have no interest in this 'Grail War', and given my attitude, I'd die pretty early into it; sticking to the sidelines is my strategy.
What does bother me is the glowing, scarlet sigil upon my hand: a command seal. It's a mere illusion of power, a failsafe to control the heroic spirit bound to me. Speaking of which...
"Where is your ambition!" Alexander playfully chides, a bit disappointed that his chosen master is nothing but a listless nobody. "Do you think you can stand on equal footing a hero who has already achieved so much? Do you think you'll be able to stand with pride when an opponent whose strength outmatches yours approaches?"
"What does that even mean?" I flippantly dismiss his soliloquy from the couch; my servant's frustration with being cooped up in the apartment is obvious.
Alexander fancies himself the 'King of Conquerors', a self-appointed title that actually bears weight. 'My' Alexander is 'THE' Alexander, the Great, that is. A legend of yore, his heroic spirit serves me in whatever capacity I see fit. I was expecting a bit more muscle but this incarnation seems to mirror his boyish youth; Alexander the Great as a child. Too much energy. Too little discipline. It's all good, though. He may have his uses.
"A mage without ambition is nothing but a tool." Alexander states flatly, a tone that brooked no argument.
This amuses me, "No ambition? What has ambition gotten you? Bound to someone who could give a rats ass about heroism or strength; bound to me." Perhaps I'm being too harsh on the boy. Even with his lifelong memories intact, this version of the Conqueror King is just a bright-eyed kid; he requires direction, not scolding. Then again, I'm not as virtuous a master as he hoped.
"Don't be foolish! Your power lies in your ambitions!" Alexander retorted, visibly annoyed by my words; his brows furrow with anger. "It is only natural that you should desire to become stronger than anyone else. You must understand how important that is, surely?"
This is turning into an interesting debate, "What is strength if you can be controlled by others?" I sat up and faced him, really digging deep, "For all your power, my dear Alexander, you're nothing but a pretty boy to me. I can use your strength as I see fit with these command seals; you're far stronger than I but to what end?"
Alexander took a step back, a look of shock on his face.
"How dare you! You-"
I raised my hand, silencing the angry boy. "Do you require a demonstration?" I scolded, pointing at the scarlet seal. "You want to know what I'm capable of, don't you?"
"That's..." Alexander stammered, clearly unnerved by my question; a devilish impulse took root.
"Come here, lad, and lie down; present yourself." I ordered, smiling as I spoke.
"Wha-what are you going to do?" Alexander questions, his voice cracking.
"Why, I am going to test your strength," the answer drips innuendo. With a finger snap, a fraction of the 3-pronged command seal dissipates. With it, the boy king falls to one knee and presents himself before me.
"I-I'm a hero! the King of C-Conquerors!" His ruby eyes burn with a mixture of disgust and betrayal, but there is something else as well; something too shameful for Alexander to admit.
"I've never lied to you, have I?" My words tickle his earlobe, mouth hovering downward to give a playful nibble along his collarbone, "I told you I wasn't a hero."
Never had I truly noted his feminine form until now, so soft that it begged for my caress.
The attraction is more of Alexander's fault than my own; he'd unwittingly enticed me with his scantily clad body. Alexander's pinkish tummy is exposed, a trio of golden studs piercing it, and black, toeless leggings with a golden trim revealed manicured toes; this I could work with. The boy's frustration would be my clay, and o' how I would mold the heroic spirit into something less dignified.