Fate/Reclamation (IC)

[Katie]

Kanzaki Erika
16th of December, 2004
The House in Misty Village
Morning (Phase 2-1)

Bacon. Eggs. Pancakes. Not the typical breakfast I’d make, but I figured I would try something different to commemorate last night’s success. At the very least… Natsuki wouldn’t make breakfast in time and I don’t quite trust Caster to fix up a meal in the modern age, so I get to make whatever I want. The freeing opportunities of responsibility. It’s quite nice, honestly.

What doesn’t mesh quite right now is the leyline’s effects—namely the sheer amount of pressure it exerts. To make a quick comparison, I don’t think Michael would be capable of handling it, and I, certainly an expert on the topic, have a bit of difficulty managing it. Not that I’ve messed up, but I feel as if I’m toeing the line between genius and disaster. Honestly, the sheer strength is both fearsome and exhilarating.

But all of the pleasantries in my heart die as soon as I hear the doorbell ring.

It’s early. The bounded field should be active, so it can’t be some random salesman or passerby. A delivery, maybe, but I can’t remember Natsuki saying she’d get anything recently. Maybe it’s best to hope for a positive, but the only people who could possibly get past it otherwise are magi, and well…

I’d rather not think about the political implications of a first-generation magus “borrowing” a leyline from a prestigious member of the Clock Tower. That sort of politicking would kill anyone’s mood.

The doorbell rings again. I’m in the middle of cooking, for crying out loud. But at the same time, I get the feeling that if I don’t answer the doorbell, my job might be in danger… Can’t a good thing last for just a little longer?

I casually slide some bacon and eggs onto some plates and walk over to the front door. If Natsuki’s monstrosities haven’t descended upon them, they’re probably not hostile. At least, in a direct manner.

A deep breath, and I turn the knob.

[Reiu]

Arwyn Cadfael Penrith
16th of December, 2004
Einzbern Gardens
Morning(Phase 2-1)


Whereas he had felt almost at home in the silent snowing forest—now, amidst the brightly flowering garden, Arwyn felt more of foreign intruder.

He glanced up at the caged, glass-domed sky, and beyond where it was still snowing. In his gaze was a passing spectre of something akin to longing, to a terrible nostalgia: distance, in both time and place.

Arwyn redirected his gaze downwards, where he was no longer alone, but face-to-face with Saber across from him.

…And so they started; but it wasn’t long before he caught sight of Leysritt’s flag in the distance, which promptly evoked a startled, round-eyed look at Leysritt.

The face of an unguarded greenhorn that was nothing but terribly out of place here. After all—this was no mere play-fighting.

Saber was serious. And she would let him know that soon enough.

“I want you to try to kill me.”

Her voice was clear, and without hesitation.


“Kill me, with any means necessary. With anything you think you have at your disposal. If you can even make me draw my blade, I’ll call it your victory.
“I saw your work yesterday. Sloppy, but impressive in a certain way, especially given what you had on hand. You called yourself a killer, did you not?”



He clenched the weapon, so carefully concealed in the coat for all of the night, drawn with neither announcement nor explanation.

A killer. He told her that. And he had killed, it was true. Not just once, but twice, and thrice, and…

—Except it had been anything but sloppy. It was not negligence or incompetence that kept his transgressions undiscovered. After all, there was no weapon. Their lives had not seemed so much taken, as with ordinary murder, as lost. They had lost where he had not. …Was that what she meant, to be the victor?…


Only that man had been an exception.


For a fleeting moment, a vision of the man’s silhouette superimposed itself over that of Saber standing before him.
His words. His laugh. Her silhouette. Her serenity and sangfroid. Or was it indifference?


……No, hers was a choice.
Just as Arwyn Penrith chose to struggle, to strive, to refuse to let go—Saber had chosen that tranquility, that way of being, that "non-struggle.”


Was that her way?

And then, a whisper in his ear.

“Hey, Master. What would you do, if I were to really decide to kill you here?”

A pause.

“I imagine it would depend on why,” he answered evenly.

A hint of something akin to…determination? Desperation? Delirium? And yet, his faltering voice reached a stillness that had been lacking in his countenance.


She was right there, scarcely a hair’s breadth away before him.


A flare of intense azure. His eyes, lit with a fevered intensity she had not seen.
It was unmistakable—the almost colorless, monochrome gray overwritten by vibrant aurora-like light.

Everything shall be judged at the end of all things. But not before.
For we must be free to choose the actions for which we will be judged.

He can’t stop here.

“……what would you think of that, Saber?”

Looking at her from this zero distance—he took aim, and pressed the trigger.

[Sunny]

Caster of Blue
16th of December, 2004
Idle Thoughts

After what felt like an eternity, and was no doubt many times closer to eternity in practice, the woman had answered a call for the first time. She could scarcely believe it. But it left her with a single lingering question in the back of her mind, the lowest priority of all the speeding, competing trains of thought she entertained at most times. Not forgotten, but hardly a priority, except in her most idle moments.

An exercise for the uncertain reader.

Q: What is she seeking, here?

Her dreams, perhaps.

The woman had quite a lot of dreams. From childhood until the day she breathed her last, she lived her life chasing one dream or another. It would have been little surprise had her wish been to see one or another to fruition. To pluck one from the multitude of pruned possibilities and lift it above all those unrealized.

But the woman had never prized one dream above the rest. Even the one she was best known for, the one that defined her as a Heroic Spirit, was no more precious to her than the ones she had been forced to set aside long before it.

It wasn't that she considered any of them unimportant. Quite the opposite, in fact.

But...

Q: What is she seeking, here?

To change her fate, certainly.

The woman's story had come to a conclusion that satisfied no one, least of all herself. She had left much unfinished, and even more in disarray. Given more time, she could have set things in order, achieved what she had set out to do, obtained and done so much more than she had...

But that was true of anyone, and while she wanted more, so much more, the woman didn't regret seeing her choices through to the end, no matter how messy it was. To the bitter end, they had been hers, and the outcome was the one her choices had affected.

From the start, it wasn't permitted for it to be any other way.

After all...

Q: What is she seeking, here?

The woman wasn't entirely convinced she had a wish to begin with. She had many desires, of course. Quite a lot of desires, in fact. More desires than she knew what to do with, really.

But all her life, those were all things the woman had endeavored to achieve with her own hands. That she had ended up holding onto none of them was of little import to the motivation behind her pursuit of the future, of her dreams, of what she wanted and why she wanted it.

No, she didn't believe she had any wishes. Hopes, perhaps. Desires, absolutely. But not wishes.

If she was forced to categorize anything as a wish, which she was reluctant to do in the first place, then perhaps...

No. There was never one.
--------

Caster of Blue
16th of December, 2004
The House in Misty Village
Morning (Phase 2-1)

Leylines are amazing.

Through their connection, Caster could feel the power and pressure Erika had tapped into, and the enthusiastic servant had stayed up half the night playing with it, delighting in how much raw material she had been able to churn out of her workshop in short order. Stuck in a flow of creative spirit, the girl had her clever little iron sand working overtime just to keep up with her until well past sunrise. The leyline was quite a nice complement to her work, compared to the paltry sum of prana in the air of the ritual room when she'd exhausted it the day before.

In truth, she was still surprised they pulled it off. She quite liked Erika's determination and daring, but the actual plan had left a bit to be desired in terms of not freezing to death afterwards. Thankfully it hadn't been all that difficult for the girl to adjust her output to a warming current, though she never imagined her magecraft would be used as a glorified space heater.

Now that had been an interesting new experience, suffice to say.

When the time came to unwind, she had thrown herself on the couch, set to building, and started enthusiastically flipping through the different channels with one hand while laying out materials with the other. A few transistors here, a conduit there, the reagent ready to be poured around that...

What Caster was building was familiar enough to her that she could do it unthinkingly, letting her immerse herself in modern media. She had enjoyed the local news, watched and loudly participated in a Quite Interesting gameshow where the answers kept surprising her, and even sung along quite well to a pop track of some quite handsome Irish boys scouting a fan to perform one of their band's new singles, until she was asked to stop so Miss Natsuki could sleep.

She had given a pouty moue, but did her best to sit still and stay quiet while she finished her creation, snapping the last piece into place.

Which is how she found herself wandering the hall while Erika cooked breakfast, looking for her master's bedroom with a surreptitiously cheerful hum.

Do you really not have any proper coats, Erika?

It was a bit invasive of her, admittedly, but she had already admitted that and didn't really have much shame about it in the first place, so there she was, peeking her head into her Master's bedroom and making a beeline for the closet with a determined gaze.

If she had to justify it later, most likely to Erika herself, the girl might have argued it was out of concern for Erika, or perhaps looking for a less conspicuous coat her own size that she could wear when she stepped out into London. She had left her lab coat on the sofa, leaving a clingy, sleeveless short black dress and her long gloves, all the better to try on anything fetching.

"Hm hm hm," she thought out loud as she rifled through the closet, scouting for something her size. Erika was several sizes smaller, certainly, but even then it was within acceptable variation if she found a long enough coat perhaps.

Too small, too tight, adorably tight, promising, much too big-- hm?

Caster paused, sliding her fingers back to the last hanger and pulling it out. A warm-looking, high-quality, almost certainly expensive black overcoat. It stood out quite a bit after the last few... well, comparably modest and budget options. More than that, it was much too big for Erika - too big even for Caster, and she was taller than most of the other women she had known in life. Not just that, but the cut...

With an interested noise in the back of her throat, one of the lenses on her visor rotated over the black lens, zooming in and skimming the coat rapidly, measuring and confirming the rather obvious conclusion she had initially come to.

Elegant but in a quiet, understated way, shoulders a bit on the broad side next to Erika, more slender than bulky, and ah, quite a sculpted waist, and... Ah, this is definitely a rather masculine--

Her lens paused, stopping on the collar. Two gloved fingers reached inside, gently stroking up the neckline, and retreated with a single hair held delicately between them. A pale, soft white fluffy hair.

The girl raised an eyebrow, holding it up in front of an increasingly bright, amused blue eye.

"Ahaha, Erika, I was starting to wonder..." Caster giggled to herself, glancing surreptitiously at the door. After a moment of listening for any movement in the hallway, she glanced back and pulled the coat close with both hands, reaching her head into the collar and taking a deep breath inside.

It was altogether quite interesting. Clean, soft, and warm. It smelled... like a young man, but a particular kind of young man, really. The kind who dressed extremely well, but without needing or wanting to advertise it. It reminded her of the better-bred London boys of her youth - ah, that warranted a second, deeper sniff. Definitely a young man's scent, still smooth without the rough edges of an older specimen.

She was still archiving the scent in her mental records when her fingers slipped into one of the tucked away interior pockets. "What do we have here?" the girl mused aloud, plucking out something else - a small white business card. She tilted her head to peruse it - it was fairly plain, with black type press, identifying its owner as a very particular sort of civil servant.

It so happened this one was familiar to even Caster, particularly the navy logo and scale, eliciting an impressed noise from the servant at her Master's taste and good fortune. "A crown prosecutor. Not bad, Erika!" she continued reading aloud. "Mister... hm... Ar...wyn... Penrith?"

Knock.
Knock.
Knock.

Ah! The girl gave a start, then paused. She had surveyed Erika's home when she was summoned and she rather doubted anyone uninvited would find this place without a fair measure of difficulty. The knock was forceful, but not harried or aggressive, just decisive in a way that rather suited the kind of young man who would own this coat. Ah, what fortuitous timing...

Giving an impish grin, but still holding onto the coat, Caster practically hopped for the entrance to the bedroom, leaning halfway out.

"Oh, Erika! Do you have a gentleman caller?" She called out from the doorway, then paused. Right, no reason to bother herself with old engrained habits or decorum she had never cared to maintain. "Is that your prosecutor boyfriend, then~?"

[Mellon]

Akechi Tohsaka & Assassin of White
16th of December, 2004
Himitsu to Hanazono
Morning (Phase 2-1)

It had been a rough night. Even as the Tohsaka scion crawled out of her bed, she could still see the fires of the Royal Opera blazing in her mind’s eye. More monsters than one could shake a stick at. In more ways than one. In any case, the situation yesterday ended up forcing your hand faster than you had anticipated. At this point, it was extremely unlikely that you could blend into Clock Tower as easily as you had before. You would need some type of disguise at least.

Assassin was… somewhere. You could still feel the “presence” of the shadowed figure through the mental link that the two of you shared, but as far as your more “primitive” senses were concerned, the masked Servant might as well not have existed in the first place. A fact that was both reassuring and unnerving at the same time. Well, suffice to say, she was around at least which, considering the circumstances, was probably the best you could ask for.

A moment later, Akechi’s legs took her out of her bedroom and into the kitchen, where the raven-haired Tohsaka started making her breakfast. Some toast, jam, a nice cup of coffee - not a wholly luxurious meal, but a satisfying nonetheless. All the while, her fingers kept thumbing through the thin file on the kitchen table.

Curiouser and curiouser. The chessboard had been set and it would seem that the players were already making their moves...

---

Michael Blackmore & Archer of Blue
16th of December, 2004
East London - Glamis Road
Morning (Phase 2-1)

Even in the midst of all this snow, Michael Blackmore did not shirk from his traditional training routine. In fact, he relished it. For many Enforcers, their body was just as much of a weapon as their magecraft and this weather, annoying as it was, was at the very least closer to the environments that Michael usually found himself stalking his prey. Like that one time in the Alaskan wilderness, when it ended up being a race to the target between Michael and a rival contingent of freelancers. That, as much as anything, had shown you the importance of preparation.

And perhaps, as unexpected as it seemed, with the current weather conditions, you might even be able to put your environmental training to work on these very city streets.

As Michael turned from Glamis Road to the Whapping Wall, he could make out the flowing river in the distance. If this weather got any worse, it could even maybe freeze the entire Thames - a first in over forty years. Looking at the river brought to mind memories from last night. Archer clashing with an unknown Servant. Massive, sinister looking hounds prowling the streets. In the end, you had prevailed and Miss Kanzaki had claimed the leyline, but…. How would have things played out if you had met your opponent alone? Or if Caster and Miss Kanzaki had done so?

As these thoughts kept playing around in the Enforcer’s mind, his legs kept jogging forward making their way through the snow that had been piled up on the sidewalks.

---

Aila Einzbern & Caster of White
16th of December, 2004
Aila’s Mansion
Morning (Phase 2-1)

Silence filled the wide hallways and sweeping staircases of the meticulously detailed mansion. Unlike the imposing face of the Einzbern’s ancestral residence, Aila’s home was both smaller and less opulent in design. Well, it was mostly just for her, so having fifty or so bedrooms wasn’t just all that practical. On the other hand, one couldn’t really call it a “modest” residence in any shape way or form. It was a mansion, after all, one more reminiscent of the great manor houses of the British nobility, than any type of modern residence.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Smooth, precise-sounding footsteps filled the quiet hallways as a solitary figure moved through them with practiced ease. Reaching her destination a couple of moments later, Lapis, the resident butler of the mansion gave a brief knock on the wooden room door. Hearing no response, the white-haired butler let out a small sigh and turned the brass doorknob, entering into the room that laid behind the door.

Soft white light glittered through the half-closed curtains, giving the entire room a soft white glow of sorts. While normally one could consider it quite spacious, any available space that might exist was greatly limited by the sheer volume of books in the room. No matter how many times she had suggested moving some of them into the library, it never happened. One day, she would have to take things into her own hands, it seemed. One of the books lay sprawled open on the surface of the bed, clearly fallen there when its reader had inadvertently fallen into slumber.

Picking up the book from the bed Lapis placed it on the bedstand, taking great effort not to scramble up the pages in the process.

“Milady? It’s morning.” Getting no response from her green-haired Master, the suited butler started gently shaking her sleeping figure. “Milady. Its time to wake up! You can’t stay in bed at this hour anymore!”

Her shaking intensified.

Still seeing no response from the sleeping homunculi, Lapis’s eyes narrowed dangerously.



“....”

---

Freogan Deofolgeat
16th of December, 2004
Clock Tower, Main Campus - In front of Auriga Hall
Morning (Phase 2-1)

The “esteemed” hallways of the Clock Tower were abuzz with rumors and gossiping students. Well, that in itself wasn’t particularly unusual. The students and faculty always found things to gossip about. And with the constant powerplays and backstabbing going on in the Association, they rarely lacked material as well. But today, the rumor mill was particularly enthusiastic. The Lords had called an Assemblée! No, instead the Barthomeloi faction had declared war on everyone else! The Second Faculty had assembled a crack team of Enforcers and magi hunters and they had clashed with the Vice-Director and the Canticle Brigade! The Fifth Faculty was preparing to take down the Seventh with secret Ghost Liners they had gotten from the Spirit Grave that lay underneath the campus

It was insanity.

Well, in any case, you had your own matters to deal with. Considering the circumstances, you had arranged for a replacement lecturer to cover for one of your own lectures. Theoretical Applications of Zoological Infusions… probably. You weren’t one-hundred percent sure, honestly. As a Grand, the number of courses you gave were both high in number and pretty highly populated. At one point, they started to all blur together to some extent.

In any case, you just needed to check that who your replacement was and that they were do….

The door in front of you exploded to wooden splinters as something, no someone, was seemingly ejected from Auriga Hall with the force of a young god and slammed into the hallway wall.

“....argh…”

It took you a moment to identify exactly who it was - Elliot Pyramus de Candolle. An eleventh generation Swiss magus who also, coincidentally, happened to be one of the senior lecturers in the Seventh Faculty. A fact which already raised a number of questions. Why was he here? What was he looking for in your lecture? And perhaps, most importantly…

Who the hell threw him out of the lecture theatre in the first place!

The catapulted man groaned as he tried to push himself back on his feet from his prone position. Behind, on the wall that had just struck, Freogan could make out a crisscrossing web of roots, almost akin to a dense spiderweb, that had dug deep into the hard surface. Interesting, it looked as if de Candolle had managed to at least soften the impact to a considerable degree. It would appear that that man was not completely bereft of talent.

“You... oriental half-breed! You DARE touch me?” The man’s face was reddening with every moment, clearly indicating his readiness to blow any moment. “Giving eastern animals such as yourself “Orange”... a disgrace, you and “Dirty Red”, both!”

Wait… “Orange”?

It was just at that moment the other party involved in this clash emerged from the half-shattered doorway.




“....my lecture theatre…. booked…”

The quiet woman’s eyes were as polished looked at the lecturer of the Seventh Department with utter disdain. Her English held a heavy Asian accent to it, but even under it, you could audibly make out the cold fury simmering in the red-head.

“...Shall I show you… Why I received “Orange”?”

...Feng?

Oi, oi, oi…. Isn’t this really bad?

[Kirby]

Saber of 『　』
16th of December, 2004
Einzbern Gardens
Morning (Phase 2-1)

“I imagine it would depend on why,”
“……what would you think of that, Saber?”

I sigh. This guy…

“Y’know, when you say it like that, you make it almost reasonable. Even when it’d be straight up just accepting your death. Do you really not care that much?”

And yet there’s that flare in his eye. Unnatural stillness, a quiet determination. I can feel it, something in him. Cold, brilliant blue. His arm snaps up, a sudden ferocity, pulling the trigger—

And I gently brush his hand aside as he fires his gun, the shot going astray. “Or, are you just being sarcastic with me?” I barely move. “No… You had that look in your eye. Just now. You feel it too?”

There’s something hidden inside him. Something he’s afraid of.

“The you, that you just a minute ago— that wasn’t the killer I saw back there, no? I had thought I saw him again just now, but…” I smile, again. “Well, what do I say here? I think you’re holding back on me. With how you’ve been acting in our lesson, all coy and all, there’s no way you could’ve pulled off what you did back then. So, hmm…” I tilt my head in mock consideration. “How about I say I’d kill you to spare anyone else the trouble, because there’s no way you could defeat anyone the way you are now?”

He seems to regret his killings. Like he didn’t mean to do it. Like he didn’t want to take their lives.

In other words, he’s weak.

If he were strong, you see, they would have lived if he chose that they should live.

I leap out of his range, a backflip through the air, putting ten steps of distance between us. Resetting the stage, if you will. “What is it you’re afraid of? Answer me, or don’t.” I disappear from his view, earth cracking beneath my feet. “I’ll know soon enough.”

Here I come.

[Reiu]

Arwyn Cadfael Penrith
16th of December, 2004
Einzbern Gardens
Morning(Phase 2-1)


More than Saber’s deadly swiftness, more than his impeding doom, it was her question than pierced deeply into Arwyn.

What is it you’re afraid of?

“Do I need to make you afraid?” she had asked.
Yes, it must have been obvious to her that whatever he was afraid of…it was not her, nor her blade. Nor of course, for that matter, his own death.


What was he afraid of?


The “him” who had killed—was one who had done nothing. One who could only watch, and observe, as events played out before him. “Arwyn Penrith” had not raised even a hand against them, and merely witnessed lives taken before him, infallibly, inexorably, hopelessly, as though by the hand of fate.

His mind retraced his thoughts, a full distant day prior.


Loss, without gain. A zero-sum game of no reward. A worldview in which there are only those who take and those who are taken from and yet neither attain anything in the end.
For there is only loss, and those who escape loss.


It was something none could stop.
And yet, neither had the reprisal ever materialized that would have righted the wrong.


For surely, it was wrong. That was not the way of the world, the providence and grace that lay at the end of such things. The retribution that should have come. The justice that he awaited.


Mundane justice could not help there; he knew only too well he would be dismissed as a madman. There were no victims, no weapon, no evidence of foul play; nothing but “natural” causes of death. Even so, he had waited, each passing day, hoped for something, anything, someone….


…Why?…


Then, the day of reckoning came, along with the mysterious visitor who could have been the answer, and yet only opened the way to more questions.

And that day—for the first time, Arwyn had taken a life with his very own hands.




“If you truly desire the answer to the question that burns within your soul, then obtain the Holy Grail.”

In other words, the desire to know the mind of God. An arrogant, selfish wish, born out of uncomprehending desparation.


He had no choice but to press onwards.
And yet…was he afraid of the answer he would find?
Was that his fear?


“……”


——No.

He was afraid of what he would do, should he find the answer he did not wish for.

The Holy Grail. An omnipotent vessel that would grant any wish.


"Only the victor is granted the right to behold the Grail?"
“You are correct. The Grail will only manifest once the one worthy to possess it has been selected through the crucible that is the Holy Grail War.”


Arwyn stood, motionless. Saber wouldn’t stop. He knew it, as did she. Was she disappointed? He couldn’t tell.


—He stood, and did nothing.


Then—the split second he felt the flash of white alight soundlessly against the fabric of his shirt—


“You drew your blade,” he breathed.

“My victory.”

[Kirby]

Saber of 『　』
16th of December, 2004
Einzbern Gardens
Morning (Phase 2-1)

“You drew your blade,”
“My victory.”

“Idiot. I don’t need a blade for something as trivial as this.”

A cloud of dust and upturned earth. I appear beneath him, just a bare second before he can even see me at his feet. A sweeping kick, one that knocks him behind in the legs off his feet, sending him spinning, falling backwards. Before he can hit the ground, I pivot around his falling body, slamming a palm into his chest from the other side, sending tremors across his body as he tumbles across the ring.

That should awaken something, right?

Is it just me, or is he somehow getting even more listless?

“I won’t let you choose death, you know. Dead students don’t learn. I decided that you’ll live, so you shall live,” I say, as the dust clears from the arena. “Get it? Your life, your death, all that is determined by my hand. To wholly and totally determine the fate of your opponent, no matter their will, that is what it means to truly claim victory over another.” I raise myself up from my stance, head craned. “You wanna know how I won a hundred duels and not taken a single life while I was at it? Because I decided that they should live.”

Was it really a hundred duels?

Eh, close enough probably. Who kept count?

“I don’t know what’s up with you, or what it is, but I can see that you regret. It’s so written all over your face, even a monkey could tell. Well? If there’s some loss you regret, the solution’s simple! Just choose that they should live the next time it happens. And if you were just powerless to choose…”

I grin. “Then what else is to do than push forward, and get stronger?”

I see that spark in him. That spark of someone who will push forward.

All he needs is someone to show him the way.

“I won’t say it again. Less moping, more fighting! Show me what you’re capable of.” I raise my arms, retaking my stance. “Come on!”

[Verg Avesta]

Freogan Deofolgeat
16th of December, 2004
Clock Tower, Main Campus - In front of Auriga Hall
Morning (Phase 2-1)

This... was not what he was looking for right now.

Freogan Deofolgeat had wanted a quiet, peaceful morning to balance out the problematic last night that had went on far longer than he had anticipated... along with the pulsating, painful hangover he was suffering from right now. Indeed, the blonde magus had done his best to mitigate the damage from last night's rampant drinking (he had continued after their 'guests' had left after all) but there was so much aspiring and bacon could do. So, he had resorted to another beer to ease his pain. And another. Maybe even a third, who really knew at that point? But, ah, well... the pleasant buzz it had created seemed to just wash away with the sight of Qu Fenghuang stepping out of the decimated doors of the lecture hall, leaving only cold reality behind.

This was not what he was looking for right now.

"......... Oh bollocks," Freogan muttered, chewing slightly on the smoking cigarette on his lips.

Considering what sort of language Mister Candolle was using, Freogan felt absolutely zero sympathy for him. He himself was an abnormality among abnormalities within Clock Tower, an aberration that had earned himself a fair amount of enemies. So, he could understand why Feng was taking out her anger on the whiny little bell-end. Of course violence like this in the hallways of the Clock Tower was never a good thing... even if he himself had taken part in quite a lot of it. But whereas his scuffles involved punching the lights out of some snob who had a problem with how he was handling his lectures, this... this seemed to go beyond it.

And this was not what he was looking for right now.

Not when he hadn't even eaten anything proper, other than three pieces of bacon, this morning. He was, right now, literally staving off his hunger with cigarettes.

Therefore, having blankly watched the scene unfold before his eyes, Freogan trained his stare at Feng and raised his hand in a momentary greeting. They had their differences, but he didn't exactly dislike the woman, unlike Vlastos.

"Mornin', Feng. You're as lush as ever," Freogan spoke, trying to keep his voice as level as possible. "Well... I'll leave you to whatever you were doing with this wanker. G'bye."

And without waiting a single second more, hoping that the nonchalance with which he had acted would serve as enough of a stun grenade to confuse the woman...

... Freogan booked it to the opposite direction as fast as his legs carried him, hoping to get away from this all.

This was not what he was looking for right now.

[Dranes]

Gendou Matou & Rider of White
16th of December, 2004
Sanny’s Mini Market - East London
Morning (Phase 2-1)

"C-C-Cold... it's t-t-too cold."

It was all the Matou could get out through the chattering of his teeth and wrapped up in his own jacket as he pushed through into the shop. A quaint trail of snow followed him in, each shaking step causing a layer to fall off his shoulders. While the weather was all well and good yesterday, it seemed to have taken a turn for the worse today. Why not add another issue to the mountain, it's not like it was going to kill him if a few more problems showed up. Gendou's shoulders slumped at the thought, and the weight of the snow, before a final shake freed him of winter's cold white embrace.

"Ah, sweet, warm built-in heating... I never thought I'd be glad to be in a two-bit convenience store in the middle of London but here we are."

On any other occasion it would look like he was talking to himself, after all it's not like he knew anyone well enough in London to drag them through the snow at this hour. A fellow in a suit and seemingly perpetually hidden face had followed along.

"Enjoying the outfit? Not like I had much spare for this kinda stuff."

A shrug as he looked over the various magazines, foodstuffs and more importantly booze. On a tight budget like his, cheap was best and this had to be the cheapest in town! Or so he hoped.

That and maybe something for the throat, rolling around in the snow ain't exactly the best for one's health. Then again, a lot of stuff Gendou did wasn't great for his health...

C'est la vie!

And of course there was the news, most importantly the part that all these places found important enough to report on: a fire at the Royal Opera, a tragic and terrible loss to the art community in London. Millions will be spent repairing and getting it back in order and for a person like Gendou it would probably be a no-go zone. Not due to police of course but rather the obvious reason as to why such a terrible fire started: a battle of some sort... it seemed whoever had their fun that night wasn't as 'subtle' as himself and Rider even if subtlety was more the Clocks' issue than theirs. Except the Tohsakas, they were always sticklers for the rules and traditions to a fault and something that was going to end their illustrious line some day by Gendou's bet.

Either way, a safe bet that a battle of sorts happened, what coincidence that the same night he got into a fight that it would be burnt down?

“No browsing. You want something, you pay for it.”

"I got it, I got it."

A wave and his hoarse voice was all he could do to appease the rather rude owner (?), he was after all a paying customer.

"Cough drops, I need some over-the-counter cough drops, ya got any of those?"

He also dropped the special 2-pack he had found on the counter earlier as well, no use missing out on a bargain like this right?

"And this, expiring or not I'm gonna need a drink if I'm gonna deal with family."

Placate 'em as well as the Einzberns and Tohsakas if all went well? Not likely but at least some cheap booze would make it bearable.

"How long is this storm supposed to last anyways, was rather nice yesterday..."

With those words he pulled out the barebones excuse of a wallet he still carried around with him, glad that he could at least afford this much before glancing back to his black-suited companion.

[Zagrin]

Rider of White
16th of December, 2004
Sanny's Mini Market - East London(Morning Phase 2-1)

"Enjoying the outfit? Not like I had much spare for this kinda stuff."

"It's adequate."

That was the brusque response Gendou received from his companion as he looked over the clothing he had donned whilst following him.

Black suit jacket, black trousers, black dress shoes, black tie and (surprisingly) a white dress shirt.

Based on the information he had received from the grail, Rider had been led to understand that humans in the current era that held a position of power regularly wore clothing such as this and so he had opted to obtain a similar set of clothing for himself, partly out of prudence for if a situation would ever arise that would require him not to be wearing his armour and partly out of curiosity for how it would feeling wearing such clothes. Certainly his master had whinged about how there would be nothing left in his wallet or something like that when they had bought the suit, but that was a small price to pay to stay in Rider's good graces.

As the duo walked past the stand filled with various magazines and newspapers, Rider randomly grabbed and began paging through it, reading a couple of lines per page before becoming disinterested and turning to the next, his disappointment growing with each word he read.

"To think that this is what passes for literature..."

With that he tossed the book over his back, in the direction of where he had found it, uninterested in whether it had actually even landed back in the magazine stand.

"So then...why are we here?"

And not hunting down our enemies, using what we learned last night?

[Mellon]

Kanzaki Erika & Caster of Blue
16th of December, 2004
The House in Misty Village
Morning (Phase 2-1)

As Erika opened the door, she was greeted by someone she surely did not expect to see on this snowy morning.

A besuited blonde was standing nonchalantly outside the house. As Erika opened the door, a small smile suddenly flickered into life visitor’s lips. He… wait, or was it she? In any case, leaving aside the aside questionable gender, it didn’t take long for Erika to connect the dots. Learning the individual names of every single Lord and Lecturer was almost compulsory for “lower administration” just in order to not step on any powerful toes by accident. This went double for Erika, of course.

In any case, the figure was Vasilisa Afanasyev, a lecturer in the Second Department - the Faculty of Individual Fundamentals. Out of all the Faculties of the Clock Tower, it boasted the largest number of both students and lecturers, by the virtue of its… well, extremely vague specialty. Of course, that also meant that there was extremely little coherency in the structure of the Faculty. Unlike the Fifth, Tenth, or the Third, which could almost be considered to be “fiefdoms” in their own right, the Second was more akin to a fractured republic, with is own miniature factional conflicts and clashes.

A microcosm of the Clock Tower itself, in a way.

The blonde gave a bow to the Master in front of him, thoroughly respectful, but also filled with what could only be described as arrogant confidence. Almost as if he was humoring the girl in front of him and doing her a favor of some description. Though you could also sense that it wasn’t really intentional, but rather a subconscious “tick” that he either wasn’t aware of or hadn’t bothered to correct.

“Good morning! My name is Vasilisa Afanasyev, a lecturer from the Faculty of Individual Fundamentals. I’m delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Kanzaki.”

“This is the Kanzaki residence, is it not?” While the question was on his lips, his eyes made it evident that he already knew the answer to that question from the start. “Never mind. In any case, I have come to see you on this fine morning with a vital request.”

“You see, I represent a number of senior figures of the Second Faculty who would very much like to discuss some matters of great importance with you.”



“Both with you and your…. compatriot, that is.”

Freogan Deofolgeat
16th of December, 2004
Clock Tower, Main Campus - In front of Auriga Hall
Morning (Phase 2-1)

"Well... I'll leave you to whatever you were doing with this wanker. G'bye."

The redhead’s eyes flickered from the hapless senior Botany lecturer towards Freogan, who had seemingly gone completely unnoticed to her before he actually decided to speak up. Now though, Feng’s eyes narrowed a bit, almost as if anticipating Freogan’s interference. Seeing none, she Freogan, who now seemed to be fleeing from the scene at full speed, a small nod and turned back towards her target.

“...good.”



“Hmph! As if you would be able to even…”

BAM!

Freogan had barely enough time to register the flare-up of magical energy and brace himself. In good order as well, as a powerful gust of wind filled the hallway, nearly pushing the British magus off his feet. Judging by the, quite audible, loud crack that filled the hallway, this time, dear Professor de Candolle did not have the time to brace himself for the impact. Almost as if by cue his pained moans echoed throughout the hallway once more.

“Urghh…. Aaah…. You will not get away with... arh...this! Neither you nor your meaningless faculty! Lord Yumina will…”

BAM!

“Arahahrgh…. Stop attacki…”

BAM!


“....please…”




"...."

Finally seemingly satisfied with the outcome of the situation, Feng turned around and simply walked through the shattered doorframe back to her lecture, leaving behind the, extremely bruised and battered, form of Elliot Pyramus de Candolle. Considering all the groaning and moaning that was emitting from the man, it would most likely take a while for him to get back on his feet. Oh well, no doubt his Magic Circuits would patch him up soon enough. Though… this was unlikely to make the political situation between the two faculties any better.

Well, at least there would be no worries about your lecture. Any students in that class that weren’t aware of Feng already were most likely terrified out of their wits right now. For the moment, it would do wonders for retention rates!

And in the future, it was likely that absolutely no-one would register for this course ever again, reducing your workload!

This is what they call a win-win, right?

[Verg Avesta]

Freogan Deofolgeat
16th of December, 2004
Clock Tower (Fifth Faculty) - Alexandra's Office
Morning (Phase 2-1)

Well, a complete disaster of a morning had been avoided.

Not only that, but Feng might turn out to be surprisingly useful. After all, lectures were last thing in Freogan's mind right now and with the help of the Asian redhead the attendance rate might drop drastically, giving him even more free time. Hell, who knows, he might be able to actually cook something decent one of these days. Last night's burgers had been an 'extra special occasion' of sorts and he rarely had that much time to sink into food. Usually he just swung by a take-away restaurant, kebab or Indian, and took whatever was greasiest and most filled with meat home.

But that wasn't a healthy way to eat. Especially since it was he who tended to be responsible for certain giant's diet and if he kept feeding her stuff like that she'd either get out of shape... or grow even huger.

Alexandra Chimeragenos had no need to grow any huger. She was huge enough as it was.

If she achieved the size category of 'hugest' Freogan was afraid his troubles would double in amount... in all meanings of the word.

"... Still... talk about a total knob-head," Freogan muttered to himself. "Feng's troublesome enough when she's calm... should probably get her something for taking over the lecture. Ale or a stout. Or maybe she likes wine more...? Bloody hell, can't remember the last time I had to buy wine."

Making a mental note to himself to buy the redhead a bottle or two as a 'thank you' and 'sorry for having to deal with all these wankers' later, Freogan continued his way, decelerating his sprint into a brisk walk that took him the rest of the way. The corridors of Clock Tower were a maze but one that Freogan knew like the back of his hand. Well, at least that was the case when it came to this route. He had honestly no idea how many times he had walked this route to Alexandra's office, but at some point it had become ingrained in his brain. Thus, after tossing the finished cigarette into a nearby trash can and lighting up another, Freogan took the stairs up, through one corridor and another hallway, down another set of stairs, past the inner courtyard and then, after few doors and a snap of chilly outside air...

... He had reached his destination.

One that lay at the end of yet another staircase.

Thus, about minute or so later, the door of Alexandra Chimeragenos' office swung open with force as Freogan Deofolgeat entered it nonchalantly, having apparently once again forgotten the admonishment he had gotten about smoking in her office. The blonde magus lazily raised his hand in a greeting for both his Lord and her Servant, nodding to the blue-haired spirit familiarly. It seemed that last night's mission together had made him act rather familiarly towards her (hell, he had even asked her to join him for few more rounds of drinks after their encounter with Lancer and her Master). At the same time, Freogan lifted the white plastic bag he had been carrying, one that smelled of foreign food quite clearly.

"Morning Gigantor. Morning Bridesmaid," he greeted the both of them, before his eyes fell on the mountain of notes on the desk. "Man, that's a bloody big pile of paper for the shitter. Last night got the goons out there abuzz? Bunch of nutters, the load of them."

Apparently amused at the idea that the department head had been saddled with ridiculous amount of paper work since the morning, Freogan offered the plastic bag to both her and Berserker.

"Anyways, you two birds eat breakfast yet? Got some kebab rolls on my way here. Garlic sauce."

Well, that'd explain the horrible stench of garlic that had filled the room with the arrival of the man.

[Reiu]

Arwyn Cadfael Penrith
16th of December, 2004
Einzbern Gardens
Morning(Phase 2-1)

Arwyn blinked the dust out of his eyes in surprise. His instinctive assumption, sensing the motion that he observed from the duel of last night, had been mistaken.

Why had he any confidence that he was correct, to begin with?

A mental pause.

——Why had he any confidence that what he saw was correct, to begin with?


It could very well be that he did not know anything.
That he knew nothing at all, even, from the very start of all this. From the very beginning.
Perhaps he was ignorant. Perhaps he was powerless.


Ah, but of course—sometimes, in order to learn, one must forget.
To recall humility. To blank one's mind and reset one's assumptions and achieve objectivity.


He knew this only too well. His profession was one founded in the discovery of truth; to not merely condemn without due cause, but to uncover what was true and expose what was false. To give due recourse to the wronged, and remonstration to those who had wronged them.



What must he remember? What must he learn?



Faith, certainly, in the higher above and greater scheme of things; in fate.
and—


“I won’t let you choose death, you know. Dead students don’t learn. I decided that you’ll live, so you shall live.”


And…perhaps, trust, in the ones whose fates were now bound with his.


Arwyn’s mind briefly wandered back to the day of before. Had it only been a day? It was in a similar position that he found himself now, knocked down to the floor, gazing up artlessly at the white-robed figure before him.



……But that was yesterday, and this was today. He picked himself back up, registering the complaint from his battered body, but without wincing; that could come later.

He steeled himself.

Now was the time to unlearn what he knew, or thought he did; and learn what he did not.


Arwyn picked the firearm up from where it lay, amidst scattered petals.


Show me what you’re capable of.

What was he capable of? If anyone wanted to know, that would be him.


No—he needed to know.


A breath.





No matter what answer or conclusion awaited him in this War—the only way that lay before him was forward.

And so he chose to fight in earnest, a mock-battle upon which hinged neither his life nor the wish he sought.



—What was at stake was proof of merits.

The firearm, as he was wielding it, wouldn’t work on her; though his grip was firm now, and his aim steady with practice, it would not change a thing against her. Perhaps, then, it was time for a gamble.

He fired again, another futile crack of a gunshot ringing hollow in the glass-domed garden…this time, however, that was only the starting pistol for a change of tactics.


Arwyn steadied his breath, mustered what strength he still had after the tribulations of yesterday and today combined…no, even more than what he actually had—

Wiseup - Arwyn Cadfael Penrith

Statistics

STR (Strength) - C
CON (Constitution) - A
AGI (Agility) - C → A

---

?????

Activation cost: 20 prana per rank of ———, cap of ———— (Single Action).

---

…and closed the distance with Saber.

He raised the pistol arm, making to strike with it—she would intercept this, of course—and his arm was flicked aside with hardly a thought; the metal clatter of the gun’s fall hardly makng a sound on the soft grass.


They were both unarmed now, face to face, in a close distance.


Left without a weapon, he struck with his left arm—that too was redirected. He tried again. Each time he was forced back, he forced himself forward again.

Again, again, again. What he did not have in skill or artfulness, he had only in persistence.

Spoiler:

Statistics

STR (Strength) - C → A

---

?????

Activation cost: 20 prana per rank of ———, cap of ———— (Single Action).

---

Even as his field of vision began to pale, and his left sleeve slowly dyed red, he persevered.


The goal here was not to win, for that was impossible; but to learn. To familiarize.


He knew one thing: that this would only end when he let it end.


—And he was not about to, not anytime soon—

[zikari8]

Mori Shiori
16th of December, 2004
Morning (Phase 2-1)

“…”

Shiori was speechless.

Outside the hotel room window was a shocking view. Overnight, the city had been painted white and the light snowfall had grown into a proper blizzard. Framed by the wide window, the view seemed to Shiori a fantastical painting. In her eyes, the décor of this palace and the delicacies by the table did not match even a fraction of the beauty of the view.

The Holy Grail War had truly begun last night and there would soon be no end of concerns to attend to. The results of the night before were less than ideal and it was the young master’s every intention to make up that difference swiftly. Her cellphone and magical communicator, placed openly on the tea table in preparation of contact from Tohsaka Tokiomi or Akechi, were constant reminders of that call to action. Words to say, places to go, people to kill, perhaps she was just a restless person, but those worries would not disappear, even in this isolated sanctuary. Yet, when she looked out the window, she fell into a state of tranquility. Though she had understood it was snowing, only once she had a good look out the window did the fact reach her.

“Would you pardon me for a moment, Lancer?”

She courteously asked, turning away from the view. Without delay, she gently shut her eyes and clasped her hands together. Her body became motionless and she fell into a state of gentle meditation. It was clear that she was praying.

For what reason did she suddenly turn to the heavens? Was she giving thanks for the good or seeking support for the upcoming battle? Though both likely, neither were true. The reason she prayed was simple: it was snowing. That simple fact, no more than a meteorological whim, had a profound meaning to Shiori.

For you see, within the holy texts of her faith was one passage that had always remained dear to her heart. The story was simple. There was once an arrogant king who possessed many worldly riches. He believed that his wealth made him supreme. But one day, a young girl of humble birth told him that all of his treasures were ephemeral before the eternity of God. Angered by this statement, the king asked to see proof of the might of God. At that moment, a blizzard suddenly formed within the kingdom, even though it was in the middle of summer. Cold and astonished, the king could do nothing but stand in dumb amazement at the power of God. That miracle was proof of the worth of faith, surpassing any treasure or weapon within the mortal plane.

And so, when she saw the heavy snowfall in the morning, Shiori was certain. It was a sign of God. That such snow, said to be unusual for the city of London, would fall now with such perfect timing could not be a mere coincidence.

The lord was watching over her. The heavens were on her side. The message was clear.

Soon the proud lords of this city would be overthrown as they face the heaven’s strength, just as that king once did. Then, at that moment, her mission would be complete.

Thus, she prayed.

[Dranes]

Gendou Matou & Rider of White
16th of December, 2004
Sanny’s Mini Market - East London
Morning (Phase 2-1)

"Not all of us take to the cold as naturally as you do..."

A matter-of-fact reply, the first he had given to the spirit in modern clothing. After all there was no deeper meaning to the visit, the cold had arrived rather suddenly and Gendou was wholly unprepared for it, getting to shelter was a wholly natural response. Of course the one he was speaking to was anything but natural in the current world order and whether the answer would satisfy him or not... probably not! From the time they had spent together, it was easy to piece together that this one didn't have a care for niceties and distractions. A single minded warrior never losing sight of his goal...

Such a troublesome person!

"And I thought drinks were in order if the family gathering doesn't fall through and if it does well..."

He have an exaggerated shrug but the smile never leaving his lips.

"More for me! It's been a while since I had a drink."

With anyone he knew at least, there was that one girl he regularly met up with but well... that's gotten complicated.

With a shake of his head, he pulled out his cellphone. In hindsight it was quite the amazing little device, from the boxy things they had once been they had certainly become more compact and even let you put other programs on them. To think the trouble a magus has to put through for a message in this day and age while these little devices are so readily available? Sure there's the possibility of wire-tapping but would a true blue magus who lauds the traditions and ways of the past know about such things?

"Anything you want just add it on."

Hold on, there was a problem with that last sentence, an alarm almost ringing.

"Anything cheap. I'm not made of money like some people."

With a few clicks and running down a list, all that was left was waiting to see if anyone on the other end knew how to work a telephone.

[Bloble]

Michael Blackmore
16th of December, 2004
East London - Glamis Road
Morning (Phase 2-1)

A good morning always begins with a good workout.

Michael Blackmore was not troubled by the snow, nor by the cold. For years his routine had been set, and no weather conditions could change it. Parts of him even relished the challenge; snow weighed down his steps and ice provided uncertain footing, and the cold was almost pleasant on his skin once he'd worked up a sweat. It was a mundane challenge of the best kind: the sort that served to strengthen the spirit and the body alike, gradually, slowly, certainly.

It also provided a chance to reflect on the previous and upcoming days.

Yesterday's gamble had paid off. An early attack by two Servants unsuited for direct combat had triumphed over one clearly meant for it, and Erika Kanzaki had successfully claimed a leyline. Michael was aware of all the ways it could have gone wrong. A lack of his presence would have nearly guaranteed Erika's demise, and if a hound had managed to slip by him... well, he was an Enforcer. Risks were part of the job. Even knowing that, Michael couldn't be completely satisfied with the outcome.

That left the future. While they had identified one enemy Servant, they knew little to nothing of his Master. The others remained a mystery. Even the status of Michael's own allies was uncertain. If they'd had a simple cell phone or radio network, that problem could have been solved, but Michael had long since accepted that magus society as a whole would rather go backwards than embrace innovation. Even Bazett, of the younger, savvier generation, was known to forget her phone on a bad day.

Michael, Erika, and Caster and Archer had exposed themselves to the enemy. The struggle for the leyline had been won, but the war of information had begun with a loss for Blue.

There were other issue as well, not the least of which was...

Archer. He said to the invisible, ethereal spirit linked to his consciousness. How fare your wounds?

Thanks to his own incompetence in planning, a knight had been forced into a troublesome situation. Even if it was a Servant's duty to fight and die for the sake of their wish, Michael Blackmore was not fond of risking the lives of others so callously.

Michael halted at an empty bus stop, his body so warm that it was nearly steaming in the freezing cold, and shrugged on the heavy coat that had been tucked under one arm. He cleared off some snow from the nearby bench and took a seat, breathing slowly and deeply as his heart slowed. Five minutes. He would take a five minute break, jog back, and prepare for the rest of the day. It was enough time to pause pondering, speak with his Servant, and consider the day's activities.

And, perhaps...

They were both Enforcers. Both physical fighters, and both strict about staying in shape. So it only made sense that she would also be doing something similar, even if the freezing morning would deter any sane woman.

Michael withdrew his cell phone from one pocket of the coat and rang up Bazett again.

[Sei]

Aila Einzbern
16th of December, 2004
Aila’s Mansion
Morning (Phase 2-1)

One by one, my five senses are turned back on. Slowly but surely, my mind is made more and more aware of the waking world; however, it is not without resistance.

As I step back and forth between blissful sleep full-on consciousness, I find myself finding more and more reasons to drift back into a deep slumber. The warmth of the sheets enveloping my body...The gentle sounds of a quiet morning...Even the mellow scent of the many books I've surrounded myself with... It's all so pleasant that I can't help but wish that it would go on for just a bit longer. Just another minute or two... A peaceful morning in a place that I can call home. But I suppose I shouldn't get too ahead of myself...

It is with reluctance that I open my eyes and ears to this world. While it would be nice to rest in bed and carelessly waste away the days to come, I cannot ignore the painful pang of urgency jabbing at my heart. I am not here to enjoy myself. I am here to achieve a purpose that is greater than I am. I am a vessel through which the Einzberns will achieve a dream than has spanned many generations. ...To use the life that they have blessed me with to do otherwise is equivalent to spitting in the face of those who have gotten me to this point. Yet still, I cannot rid myself of this insatiable yearning.

I rise and stretch my arms- working the weariness from my bones.

"Good morning, Lapis."

Finally responding to my servant, I greet her almost as if posing a question. Not in part due to any form of actual confusion, but rather... Rather I find myself asking new questions in this particular moment. Perhaps it is merely because my thoughts are defective. Or perhaps its merely because fatigue has had an even greater effect on my mental state than usual. Regardless of what it truly is, I find myself reaching out and gently taking her hand into my own.

"..."

I can't help but feel as though there is something I would like to ask my fellow homunculi. I mull over what that question could be in my head for some time, but the words never seem to line up in any coherent way. So, in the end, I'm just left there silently brushing her hand with my thumb- taking great note of the subtle warmth and the gentle pulse that passes from her to me.

[Kuroyuki]

Akechi Tohsaka & Assassin of White
16th of December, 2004
Himitsu to Hanazono
Morning (Phase 2-1)


In contrary to most mornings, I woke up with a loud and audible groan. I wish I could say that it was from going to a bar crawl or one of the rare occasions drinking with Erika. Or other… less wholesome things after Darling stays for the night. Yes this sigh was due to last night’s horrible event.


Despite my best wishes to keep our skirmish at the Opera House as secretive as possible, we ended up burning it to the ground with our identities slightly revealed. Instead, none of my objectives for that night were really fulfilled. I barely gained contact with the other factions, I was discovered, and then there’s the entire fiasco with the Opera House. While that didn’t start due to our end, I certainly didn’t do much to stop the fighting.


Deciding that I needed to get up and confront the issues instead of just letting them beat me, I started by making a simple breakfast. For now, it was just toast and coffee. I read the file on my table carefully. Reading through it made me happy. I pulled out my work phone from its special holding place. I sent a text off and waited carefully for its response before moving on.


I need something bigger for breakfast. So I started frying up some bacon… Turkey bacon. As much as I would prefer regular bacon, I should be considerate due to the fact that Assassin is here. Albeit, I hope she doesn’t look into the freezer and take offense to the freezer full of bacon. After that, I started making some scrambled eggs and started up my rice cooker.


All in all, that didn’t take too… long. Akechi… You could’ve saved yourself approximately thirty minutes of time and effort if you just ate cereal. That time would’ve been useful especially considering the volatile and time pressing nature of the Holy Grail War and our engagement with the Vice Director already. I would like to blame the early morning, but I knew it was more than just that.


“Assassin if you want I can make you something else if you don’t want rice, turkey bacon, and scrambled eggs.”


At this rate, I might as well go ahead and cook something to impress Assassin. Gaining her trust should be enough to salvage some usage of limited time.

[Katie]

Kanzaki Erika
16th of December, 2004
The House in Misty Village
Morning (Phase 2-1)

Did I hear that correctly? Did Caster say what I think she just said? Where could she have heard that fr—Natsuki? It doesn’t matter. Between my Servant and the weasel in front of me, I’m not sure which I currently hate more.

“That’s a topic for another day,” I say as I turn to glare at Caster, my voice colder than my trip in the Thames. Don’t bring up pointless bullshit when I have work-related garbage to sift through. Especially something that no doubt involves the both of us…

I then turn back to the lecturer in front of me. Vasilisa Afanasyev, Second Faculty. His innate, smug nature is common amongst most lecturers from that department—because anyone who has the position of Lecturer in Individual Fundamentals can be said to have earned it on their one-of-a-kind talent. Even now, I’m still somewhat envious. The privilege that he has and I lack grates at me like a whetstone on a knife.

I’ll get my due one day, I suppose.

“You can be frank and tell me what the matter is,” I say, torn between leaking out my inner bitterness and maintaining this polite façade. “There’s no need to be so indirect with an assistant lecturer like myself. As for my companion… she’s under my lead, so I will be discussing for the two of us.”

[Sunny]

Caster of Blue
16th of December, 2004
The House in Misty Village
Morning (Phase 2-1)

“That’s a topic for another day."

Caster blinked at the tone in Erika's voice. She had expected the amusing warmth of flustered surprise, only to be pierced by a cold, killing glare. She prepared her best flinch, only slightly over-acted, and studiously looked away at nothing while thinking to herself.

Ah, what's this?
Trouble in paradise, my master? Relationship troubles?
Well, it's not like I'm a stranger to that, ahaha.
Hopefully no scandals for you at least, Erika.

Returning her gaze to Erika after what she reasoned was an appropriate period of time for a convincing attempt at chagrin, she nodded slightly, retreating back out of sight and switching to communication with Erika by thought. Understood, understood, and got it too! Caster assured her master, while making a mental reminder to approach the topic again another day - tomorrow would do nicely, in fact, and she penciled it right in.

Then I'll lay low in here, 'til you need me. Serious business afoot, after all! I'll be quite the serious devil.

Without further fanfare, the girl threw herself onto the edge of the bed, landing in a seated position and ignoring the modest bedframe's protesting groan and squeaks. Still holding onto the coat in both hands, her legs kicking idly, she glanced from left to right, then back again, and then nodded to herself.

She had nothing to do but wait and listen in, and that was hardly enough to occupy her mind at all. A distraction, then.

Another deeper sniff into the coat's warm, absorbent confines.

"Mmmmmm."

A very pleasant distraction, indeed.