Fate/Reclamation (IC)

[I3uster]

Lancer of White
15th of December, 2004
Afternoon (Phase 1-2)

She did move. That in itself seemed to be a promising sign at the very least. The girl, her clothing dirtied with still warm blood and the light layer of dust and rubble that stuck to it in the process, seemed to take her sweet time getting up but she was, indeed, moving.

At first she considered it exhaustion. Naturally, any person having been through this ordeal would be, so she did not think much of it. As much as she would have loved raw material that would withstand her handiwork, humanity seemed to have degraded ever so slightly since her times. For a mere human of this time, to have their nature altered in such a way was certainly not the careful handling these fragile creatures would require.

It was not disappointment that she felt, rather as of now all went as expected. Maybe it was even time for a hint of optimism, after all the girl so far seemed to at least have control over her motor functions a short time after the gauntlet Lancer had put her through. At the very least she would have expected a different kind of expression...maybe one matching the pain she had just experienced, physical or mental. But she just looked slightly disoriented.

Until she noticed it.

The girl was smiling.

“Oh?”

Even talking.

She had not lost her mind. No stammering, no questions so far, no whimpers of pain, no shocked reaction. There was nothing to the girl that would have betrayed any kind of discomfort exceeding that of a simple clumsy misstep. A person watching this scene would, at least ignoring the blood and her torn clothing, think she merely slipped and bumped her head.

Lancer raised an eyebrow. This girl was messing with her.

“Ohohohoho~ do not waste your time? How awfully pretentious of a familiar.”

A strange wave of excitement over Lancer. Was this frustration? Anger? To be called a tool by this girl, a girl that just seconds ago she would not have considered above a mere animal? There was more to it than that. Surely, her words were insulting but they were uttered in an extraordinary circumstance.

A temporary imbalance to her mind, perhaps? Maybe she had been just a bit too confident in her. Maybe she really did go insane from the ordeal.

“That is rather humorous, Servant. I did not know that the Throne of Heroes had such comedians. Perhaps your class is Jester?”

She tried her best to force a smile, however it did not come out as she expected it. Not only did she dare to face her clear superior with such contempt, now she also started mocking her. The resulting expression on her face resembled someone trying their best to appreciate a deprecating joke about oneself by a person they hated. A toothy grin, suspended halfway before reaching the other side of her face. It was her narrowed eyes that betrayed her clear anger.

But even in all that she had to acknowledge it.

She was magnificent.

"You are adequate."

Lancer sighed. "If you seek a Servant to improve your own comedic prowess I am afraid I am the wrong kind of Lancer for you however. Nevertheless, praise needs to be given where praise is due. You seem...different."

The nature of their contract leveled the playing field of power. As much as she hated to acknowledge it, in this war she was indeed a tool for that magus. Something she could forgive, after all her involvement with that girl was also rather purpose oriented. And yet, the phrasing and clear intent to mock her did not simply wash over her.

It was time for some countenance, as hard as it was to force.

"You have been given a gift, little girl. If I were you I'd be just the slightest bit more thankful of it. Think, if my intent was truly to harm you, would I not have taken the opportunity of you lying defenseless on the floor here? The leash you might be able to pull is quite dangerous to me, I acknowledge that. However, it can not be used by an unconscious magus...for a given definition of lost consciousness at the least."

“Since you asked so kindly, let me introduce myself, hero."

“I am Mori Shiori.”

“Your Master.”

It wasn't apparent if she was merely continuing to mess with her, but at least she showed proper respect to her now, as well-intentioned as it might have been.

"I am not quite happy about this terminology, but when in Rome..."

It would be her unbecoming to ignore the fact that she had shown her courtesy. Many had in her life used the mantle of courtesy to hide barbs to her person. This, in the end, while an extraordinary circumstance at least let her proceed in a manner that was familiar to her.

"I am Lancer. A heroic spirit that has answered your calling. And while I must say I find your attitude wanting...your aptitude is worthy."

There was still work to do before she could fully acknowledge this girl.

But she did show promise.

"You feel it...don't you?"

Wiseup!

Mori Shiori

Obtained ??? Rank: ???
Obtained ??? Rank: ???
Obtained ??? Rank: ???
Obtained ??? Rank: ???
Obtained ??? Rank: ???

[canaki]

Archer of Blue
15th of December, 2004
East London - The Roof of a Certain Apartment Building
Afternoon (Phase 1-2)

Unlike the quiet climb up the stairs, the rooftop was full of noise.
The pigeons were loudly demanding to be fed immediately, the hustle and bustle of the millions of people living their everyday lives in this crowded city stretching beyond the horizon, the sounds of unfamiliar contraptions -- cars and airplanes -- roaming about… generally, there was an overwhelming abundance of life.

Archer’s feet followed Michael, but his mind was clearly wandering over the scenery, even as he perched himself on the other chair. As the flying gargoyle crossed his line of sight and the birds started to feed busily, he finally turned his attention back on his master.

"What do you think, Archer? How would you approach this War?"

Archer slowly answered with a somber expression.

“A war to protect your people against invaders. The assailants had time and preparation for this, while the defenders’ only advantage is having familiarity with the area -- and even there, we could be equally matched. We do not know them, and they do not know us; yet they can simply destroy all who unfortunately cross their paths, while we must seek them out before innocent lives are lost in the crossfire. I must say the situation is rather dire.”

There was a long pause, then a sigh.

“How would I approach this, you say? If I were to undertake this task of weeding out pests by myself, I would cautiously assess the enemy, then strike the weakest links at the best possible opportunity. Whether I can protect the populace would depend on how fearsome our foes are. …I am merely a simple knight, I know what I can and cannot do on my own.
But in reality, I am not alone, am I? I have you, my master, and the other defenders as our allies. I can only say I will attempt to be as flexible as possible and adapt to the situation, until I know who I can rely on, in what way.”

The last traces of sunlight cast dark shadows upon Archer’s face.

“You are a knight on a mission, with a duty, a dream, and honor to uphold, all at once. I pray you would never have to choose between them. But if you are faced with a moment where you can not hold onto all, I hope you will choose better than I did.”

[Sunny]

Caster of Blue
15th of December, 2004
The House in Misty Village
Afternoon (Phase 1-2)

As if it had never been there, any trace of apprehension in Caster’s expression and body language vanished, a momentary outcrop broken up and washed away by a new, fresh wave of enthusiasm. She seemed altogether pleased with the type of person who had summoned her, rocking back and forth on her heels.

"Yes, yes, that's probably for the best. Though I'd much prefer to talk, when we have the security! I already have a lot of ideas for that, in fact!" Caster exclaimed, then paused and glanced back over her shoulder. Her eyes were drawn back to the room they'd left. The girl pursed her lips, thoughtfully while looking back. "By the by, that summoning circle. Was that--"

“Everything’s all good! I moved them to the lawn and now they’re just… doing stuff.”
“You’re who? I’m Natsuki, Erika’s roommate! All the familiars in this house are mine and…”

Before she could finish, Erika's roommate ran back. Caster tilted her body to the side as Natsuki ran over, looking around Erika to see what was going on. Once she saw them, Caster was all bright smiles.

"Hi again! Caster's fine, really," she greeted Natsuki, looking down and giving a wave with both gloved hands, one for Natsuki and one for the darling little creature running around her feet. She didn't seem especially put-off by the previous fairy's reaction to her, starting over with this one. "Ahaha, nice to meet you, Miss Natsuki! And you as well. Though I didn't catch your name, sorry about that..."

When the little fluffball rolled over, the girl burst into another fit of giggles, holding her side with one hand. "Aha... They take after their master... ahaha, I see! I'm glad Erika is in such dear company. Ah... Thank you for taking in one more, at least for awhile."

As she had with Erika, the girl grasped the edges of her coat again, curtsying with a practiced, relaxed grace and ease.

“Wait, Erika, did you show her all the modern stuff around the house? Like, the telly, or your laptop, or…”

...Of course, the fleeting aura of grace and decorum lasted just as long as it took for Natsuki to open her mouth again.

"Oh? Oh oh oh? Ohhh?" Caster responded to each example Natsuki gave with building interest. Her eye gradually lit up, and even the pinpoint of her goggle grew in size, the red lens rotating over it and then back again. Thanks to her height, it wasn't long before her excited strides took her many steps ahead of the other two, and she had to force herself to stop.

Skidding to a stop, Caster looked back with her hands clasped together as though in earnest prayer. Of course, the girl literally bounced up and down on her heels, even when trying to make a solemn appeal.

"Why yes, I'd like that! I'd like it very much!" She grinned from ear to ear. The grail had given her knowledge enough of the modern era, but in her experience, knowing was simply no substitute for experiencing. She had to restrain herself from dashing any further ahead of the others, making impatient noises while they caught up.

“You watch stuff on that, and…”
That happens.”

Once they found themselves in the living room, Caster rushed first for the window, leaning her knee on the window frame for a better look outside. "Ahaha, cuuute..." she murmured softly as she watched the fairies playing and the yard outside. "Like something out of a storybook..."

The girl seemed more relaxed watching them, tilting her head with an innocent, pleased expression. She barely even moved while Erika inspected the living room, not until the television turned on. Once that happened, she was across the room in less time than it took to blink, landing on the beaten-up sofa with a heavy thud.

She squinted at the screen, a blue lens rotating onto her goggle from the array. This one pulsed with a faint light, intensifying to a bluish white before fading back, then beginning again. "So this is television..." she murmured, then looked up with a chipper, worrying smile. "How many channels?"

[Spinach]

Alexandra Chimeragenos
15th of December, 2004
Afternoon (Phase 1-2)

"Berserker." Chimeragenos echoed the title from her lips, the class of her Servant.

Already in a state of modest surprise at the appearance of the one she had summoned, the ravine-like gap between the girl's aura of heavenly beauty and her self professed title as a spirit of raging madness only barely registered.

She remembered the names of those Servant 'classes' that could be summoned. Saber, knight of the sword. Archer, knight of the bow. Mounted soldier, Rider. Magus, Caster. Silent killer, Assassin. Mad warrior, Berserker.

No Servant suited her more. The Heroic Spirit could, theoretically, come second. As a tool, a weapon, nothing surpassed Berserker. The files prepared by Waver Velvet indicated that, due to the loss of control, Mad Enhancement, the strain on the Master is greater. However, those Masters who wish for a Servant to exceed their enemies in raw power will be rewarded, so long as they can sustain the Servant.

The Lord's eyelashes fluttered slightly as she took note of the link established between herself and Berserker. The flow of magical energy showed no signs of complications, and the contract, as signified by the glowing Command Seals, had been completed.

Riff-raff? The creators of these?

The Edelfelt girl was always hasty to place those beneath her into the dirt with her accusations of inferiority. Often, such berating words were warranted. Without a shadow of doubt, Luviagelita stood head and shoulders above many. Her pedigree was unquestionable, her talent unshakeable. But in calling the ones who designed this system of binding Heroic Spirits with these clumps of magical energy riff-raff, she had gravely underestimated her enemies.

As a first class magus in the establishment of contracts with familiars, this system could be called genius. An accomplishment worthy of praise, even from her.

Chimeragenos turned her attention back to the girl standing before her. The one resonating with magical energy, her sheer presence resounding throughout the great chamber.

"Spirit of raging madness," the Master addressed the Servant. She had expected to summon a Berserker class Servant, if the system would permit her catalyst to summon the intended Heroic Spirit. It was possible that it might have emerged as Rider, but to receive Berserker could only be called a blessing. Chimeragenos lifted her hand, fingers cupped to keep its contents from spilling to the floor. Bringing it to the Servant's eye level, she continued, "our contract has been formed, but there is more to be done. There is a correct procedure to be followed in all things. This Holy Grail War, the summoning of Servants, many steps in the establishment of a contract are merely ignored and a result is merely given to the Master. There is no purpose to uprooting the contract, only to reestablish it under my own terms. What is done is done. I will accept this summoning as something to allow, within the context of this ritual. Yet, I have for you two questions before we may proceed."

Alexandra uncurled her fingers, revealing the scales in her hand.

"These are the catalyst that I summoned you with. First, I must know your true name."

[Katie]

Erika Kanzaki
15th of December, 2004
The House in Misty Village
Afternoon (Phase 1-2)

While Caster is distracted, I make a move to grab my laptop off the desk. There’s still something I have to check, and thankfully, Natsuki has her full attention for now with the TV matter. For once, I’m a bit thankful she’s an attention hog…

Meanwhile, I make my way to the kitchen, where the gargoyle still waits on top of the cupboard. I place the laptop on the foldable table and give the gargoyle a signal to move a bit more forward, rather than attempt to hide itself away.

“It’s done, Lady Chimaeragenos.” Simple and to the point. I get the sense that woman hates trivialities, so it’s best I get to the point… as well as never let Caster talk to her. I’m almost certain that her very existence would offend an old-fashioned Lord like Lady Chimaeragenos, regardless of the latter’s extremely independent behavior. I wave the thing away, popping open the old laptop as I do so.

There’s a chance she could come in any moment, so… Might as well establish a cover story. At the same time, I pull out my new phone, a gift from my sister, and dial the only person I know who is nearby. Then I manage to pin the thing between my ear and my shoulder as I somehow manage to search for what I’m looking for, taking care to delete it off the history as I do so.

“Hello? Is this Michael Blackmore?”

Nanase Natsuki
15th of December, 2004
The House in Misty Village
Afternoon (Phase 1-2)

“I dunno… Maybe like fifty or something?” Nanase Natsuki shrugged, as she often did when faced with a question she did not have the answer to. While she was certainly a diligent student, she wasn’t plagued with the desire to find the right answer immediately like her roommate. In fact, if there was anything Natsuki was guilty of, it was being too lax about things.

“Erika mostly watches documentaries because she’s a big nerd,” Natsuki continued on, ignorant that the person in question had just left the room. “But if you want real taste in media, you can count on me.”

Natsuki proudly puffed out her chest, before going up to the VHS player and pulling out a cassette from the box, before putting that one to the side and taking out another. Written in somewhat cutesy handwriting were the words Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha on the label of the cassette in her hands, whereas the one on the table was Napoleon Dynamite.

“I think this would definitely be your kind of thing,” Natsuki says, before pausing, the sudden fire in her eyes suddenly vanishing with her words. “It was really hard to get too, I have a friend who mails me the TV recordings from overseas…”

“But um, if you don’t wanna watch, that’s okay!” She abruptly said, waving her arms and the cassette in a panic. “I wouldn’t want to force you to do anything!”

[Leftovers]

Berserker of Blue
15th of December, 2004
Afternoon (Phase 1-2)

The willowy woman with unmoving eyes spoke plainly, without a trace of hesitation in her speech. If she was surprised, pleased, or even disappointed by the results of her summoning, no hint of her emotions was discernible. With her subdued demeanour and precise, almost mechanical delivery it would have seemed as though her Master was not quite there - as though her body was simply a conduit of communication, controlled by some other force - but Berserker somehow understood that this was not the case. Rather, the thought came unbidden as she acclimated and attuned to the presence of her Master. Both in the things that she could sense - the pressure of being observed - and in the bond that the contract had manifested between them.

Her words were stark because they were the perfect reflection of her thoughts. Her eyes were still because the world was an open book to her. Alexandra Chimeragenos was different not because she lacked something that other people had, but because she did not operate under the same rules as them.

How peculiar. Even for her kind, the ones who dedicate themselves to paths not meant for men to tread, and in that process alter an essential part of their humanity. If she had to describe that feeling, Berserker would say that hers was an existence of singularity.

It was intriguing. Both for the kind of person that she was, and for what wish her Master could possibly have that had drawn a Servant such as her from the yonder.

"Yet, I have for you two questions before we may proceed."

It was almost surprising when the woman finally moved. The arm that extended towards Berserker was just as long as the rest of her Master's body, giving the uncanny impression of a tree that was suddenly animated and extending one of its branches at will. She wondered, did her habitual stillness regularly invite people to imagine Alexandra Chimeragenos as an inanimate object? That would be a little sad, although the placid woman did not seem the type that would care about the impression she gave.

Said woman brought her hand to Berserker's eye level, and her long fingers uncurled to reveal what lay in her palm.

"These are the catalyst that I summoned you with. First, I must know your true name."

Even as she heard those words, the Servant's eyes crinkled with recognition. Picking up the rugged chunk she held it delicately between two fingers and brought it to her eyes, turning it from side to side as she examined it with a small smile. After a few moments, her inspection finished with no apparent indication as to what she had concluded, she placed the catalyst back in Alexandra's hand with the same care as she had handled it and turned her eyes up to meet those of her Master - or at least peer into them, as they still appeared to stare into a point in space far above Berserker's head.

"Worry not, Master. You have summoned what you were hoping for. A mockery of a hero, a true enemy of mankind."

Harsh words were spoken softly. The woman who called herself Berserker decried her very nature as if stating a simple fact. If a trace of melancholy could be found, it would not be in her even voice but the faint smile that still played on her lips.

"Thine hands hold the chains of a ▅▂▃▃▄▄▅▅ , for I am █▅▆▆▄▆▃▆▅██▆▄█▄▅█ . Would you have me stand by your side, knowing that?"

[Bloble]

Michael Blackmore
15th of December, 2004
East London - The Roof of a Certain Apartment Building
Afternoon (Phase 1-2)

The words were difficult to parse. Michael had not heard their like in years. Not since his father's death bed.

He turned away from London and stared at Archer, somewhat bemused, his mouth half-open but saying nothing, eyes tracing across his Servant's somber expression.

Michael had feared the summoning would lead only to misfortune and monsters. Instead it had brought something worse: an ultimatum, thrust through his heart by a truly sympathetic soul. When was the last time he'd been wished well? Michael could scarcely remember.

"Archer," he began, voice shaking. "That choice you speak of. I..."

His confession ended prematurely, before it could properly begin. A tinny rendition of Greensleeves cut short both Michael's thoughts and the soft cooing of the birds milling about his feet. The pigeons scattered in alarm, but almost instantly reformed around the Master and Servant. It took Michael slightly longer to gather his thoughts.

"A-a moment, please." He extracted his bulky black cell phone from his pocket and held it to the side of his head.

"Hello? Oh, good afternoon, Ms. Kanzaki. Yes, this is Michael speaking. How do you do?"

[Kirby]

Saber of 『　』
15th of December, 2004
Afternoon (Phase 1-2)

At that moment, there had been no sound, no drawn breath. An awe and silence, a moment that stretched to eternity. She smiles.

And he answers.

"…P-partner?"
"Ah, no, that would be much too presumptuous of me. Please...forget what I just said."

I frown, at that. What is this, now? How embarrassed! Bashful! There’s no need to be shy, yet shy’s what he is. Well, well. He’ll warm up eventually. Ain’t that scary of a girl, you know?

But, even so, he seems stressed. On edge, like he’s been losing sleep. Maybe that’s what it is, everything happening all at once, one after another, one’a those days. Everyone’s had ‘em. But it ain’t like I fell out of the sky or anything, so surely he knew I’d be coming? It’s not like this summoning was an accident, a fluke.

"⸻I am your ally.
My name is Arwyn. You may call me whatever you wish.
……I suppose that includes 'Master,' but…please don't feel any obligation to do so; there is no need."

I smile.

“I have come forth in response to thy summons.” I ponder for a moment, and continue. “My Master is what you are, and so Master you shall be called. I have no name, but you may call m—”

And, before I can finish that thought, he flops over face down onto the floor.

“—Eh…?”

◆

It’s a different sort of silence this time.

Mood-killer. I plop myself onto the ground with a huff. Well, maybe that’s why he was so shy? A bit lightheaded from— what now? I crane my head to get a better look at his unconscious body, and notice the wound on this arm. Deeper than it had initially looked. Like something dug into it, clawing into it. Something like a wounded, desperate animal.

...Come to think of it, there sure is a lot of blood just splattered across this room, isn’t there?

I hoist him up over my shoulder like a burlap sack, and plop him down on the couch. He makes a funny face. Oh well. He’ll live. He has to! If he does, that means we’ve lasted like— what? Five minutes?

Ah. I got blood on the couch now, didn’t I?

No worries, no worries. Let’s think this through. First thing in order, stop that bleeding. I look about the room, and find some lacy cloths arranged on the tableware. Those’ll do. I take one of them, and wrap it around his arm like a makeshift gauze, though, I’m having trouble keeping it tied together. I sigh.

I start looking through his cabinets, and find nothing of interest, mostly papers and random knick-knacks. What I do find, however, is a spool of some silvery, shiny, sticky strips, under the kitchen sink.

That’s duct tape.

Yeah, sure, duct tape. I take it and wrap it around the cloth, and it finally manages to hold together. It seems to do its job neatly enough, but I wrap it around maybe one, two more times just to be safe.

And I stare at him, head tilted, watching him lie on the couch. Doesn’t seem too pale. Doesn’t look like he’s dying or anything, in any state I should worry about too much now. Almost like he’s sleeping. He mumbles something weird that I don’t quite catch. I rub a bit of dried blood off his cheek.

As much as constantly on edge he’s seemed up until now, he looks almost peaceful.

[Dranes]

Gendou Matou
15th of December, 2004
Afternoon (Phase 1-2)

Dangerous.

This was a dangerous situation.

This was not something that Gendou Matou could plan for.

Even now as his body numbed, his breath becoming visible to him, he could sense it. The overwhelming aura of killing intent emanating from the spiritual body in front of him, all of it now directed at him...arguably for good reason. Of course what he had used was no simple rock, no rather for anyone else it would be just that...nothing but a rock. However to the one he had brought forth from the Throne, it was something much deeper, a personal connection that was a key part to who he was.

Yes, it was for that reason he had scoured those nameless battlefields of an ancient land and why he had gone to such lengths to secure such a prize. An item which had no right to exist in this world and yet did.

And for his efforts he was rewarded with this. No amount of sweet talk, fancy tricks or bartering would get him out of this.

After all, he was facing down a legend.

But it wasn't just the two of them, now was it?

Something feral had arrived with him, or not. Like those blood-soaked fields of battle, it was here and yet didn't exist with them.

In the rift between worlds, he could feel a second set of eyes staring at him. It wasn't like those of the black knight, it was primal, simple, peering out from the void in the same way a predator eyes its prey before pouncing and delivering the killing blow all in one motion.

If he turned now, he would maybe be able to make it to the entrance before he was caught. It would tear out his throat and the life of Gendou Matou would end here.

"Where I found it? On a battlefield that is here yet not, a conflict that shakes the foundation of the world and yet none can see it. The way you wage your wars makes it hard to find any evidence of their existence."

"Keep it if you want."

His crumpled form, battered by the frigid winds exuded by the figure in black, straightened up to face the King and his beast. The mirth that was so plain on his face earlier in the day had disappeared, replaced with determination and perhaps resignation as he stared down his fate. The being in front of him was all that he imagined and more, he would be the perfect weapon for this war. A servant was meant to be a tool for the Master, used and disposed as needed but such wouldn't work here.

The only way this would work is if the knight recognized Gendou's resolve. To risk it all and to throw it all away if needed.

What he had already given up, what he would give up, what he would do. It didn't matter as long as he won.

"A pitiful death however? I have no intention to die here."

"Or in this damnable War."

The chance of surviving this encounter was near zero and yet he would survive.

Because he had to.

"My wish is nothing so simple as riches or prestige or the adoration of another as is so common, such trivialities are unnecessary for me. They are the wants of the foolish man who can't see farther than one's own nose."

He could only shrug at the thought of something so...normal, to use the Grail as some sort of shortcut.

Still, everyone had a wish they wanted, but would one be granted at the end of this war?

"But it is simple in another form, perhaps you'll understand if you fight with me. Or perhaps you already know."

Quite simple indeed, anyone could understand.

"My wish is 『　』."

[Zagrin]

Rider
15th of December, 2015
Afternoon (Phase 1-2)

"Keep it if you want."

As he heard those words, Rider knelt down and pick up the stone, gently cradling it in his hand as his armored thumb ran across the lines that marked it. To any onlooker it would appear as though the tension in the air was letting up, but in truth it was the exact opposite. Indeed, rather than dying down the bloodlust in the air became even more intense after Gendou's last comment. It was clear that the armored king did not appreciate Gendou's willingness to offhandedly discard something that he himself held so dear.

Had he so wished he could have had him killed right then and there and show him that what he wanted actually mattered very little, but nonetheless he had asked what drove this child to seek an audience with death and so he would at least allow him to give his answer, as pathetic as it probably was...

"My wish is 『　』."

Time seemed to freeze as Gendou declared his wish, with neither the armored king nor that which lurked in the shadows making any sort of immediate response to it. Admittedly, young man's wish was not what he had expected it to be and at least bought him a scant few moments of life as the armored figure pondered upon it. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, there was a response from the King, and with it all tension in the air began to evaporate.

"Hmhm..."

A chuckle escaped the lips of the kneeling man as he thought more and more upon it...

"Haha...Hahahaha!"

Soon that chuckle turned into full-blown laughter as the man lifted his head up towards the ceiling of the decrepit crypt. This was the first time in centuries that he had been given reason to laugh so, yet when his fit of laughter had come to an end his eye was half-closed with a seemingly melancholic look to it.

"I see..."

With that he stood, and he looked upon the one who had summoned him with a new sense of respect. He neither knew, nor cared as to whether it was fate now at work or some other force at play that brought him here, before this man, but what he knew is that within that wish he sensed a glimmer of hope, a possibility of salvation, a chance to finally put an end to something that he had begun long ago.

"Very well, then let us seal the contract, you and I."

"I ask of you: are you my master?"

[Katie]

Erika Kanzaki
15th of December, 2004
The House in Misty Village
Afternoon (Phase 1-2)

"Hello? Oh, good afternoon, Ms. Kanzaki. Yes, this is Michael speaking. How do you do?"

“I’m doing quite well, thanks.” Well, I could be doing a lot worse, but thankfully the Grail has decided not to give me someone I would detest from the bottom of my heart. It’s a win in my book.

“Have you finished your summoning? I have, and Caster’s quite the handful.” Fish for information first. If he had summoned by now, then I could get to the point of the conversation. Since it seems that Caster is fully distracted for now, judging by the noises coming from the other room, I could pursue this article more leisurely, but really, a quick skim has told me everything she neglected to tell me.

It isn’t that I don’t trust my own Servant—but that even someone who values direct conversation like her has things she wishes would never see the light of day. Not only that… For certain things, it’s incredibly important to view it through multiple perspectives. The truth is something objectively validated by multiple people, not just one alone.

...Though, I can’t help but admit that I feel bad going around her back like this. Even if my Caster isn’t a typical magus and neither am I, I’ve internalized enough of the general philosophy that actions like this are merely things to be done. An ever present sense of mistrust and being judged. It’s unfair that she ends up with someone like myself, honestly.

[Reiu]

Arwyn Cadfael Penrith
15th of December, 2004
Afternoon (Phase 1-2)

He recalled myriad faces of people.

He recalled faces of serenity. Of chagrin. Of resignment. Of frustration. Of disbelief. Of acceptance.

He recalled their expressions, in the face of loss.

—He recalled their visages, in death. Each one, before him; pristine, and yet robbed of life.


"……I'm sorry……"


Empty words. Words that didn’t mean anything. Words that didn't do anything.

And yet, even so, what else did he have? What else could he give?


Ah, but…in the first place, why had he———

"God?"

"……!"

Arwyn bolts awake.

Jerking upright, he casts his gaze around wildly, as though searching for something, before they land by chance on his arm, now wrapped in fabric dyed red by his blood.

Tablecloth and…was that duct tape?

Somehow, the incongruous sight brings him back to his senses.


"You…did this?" There wasn’t anyone else it could be, was there? "Thank you," he stammers, before realizing something. "…No, please excuse my rudeness…I should have expressed my apologies first. It was careless of me. I apologize."

"And that…wasn’t how these things were supposed to go, was it?"

Arwyn offers what seems to be somewhere between an apologetic and self-deprecating smile.

He looked at the girl before him again.
Long black hair adorned by oriental flowers, flowing patterned white robes—but above all, just as much flesh and blood and human in appearance as himself.

…Servant? Heroic Spirit? Now, away from that dreamlike scene, it was hard to wrap his mind around it, even as he recalled the information that he had seen in the book given to him by Father Kotomine.

He grasps at fragments of memory, struggling to recollect what had occurred as his consciousness had slipped away from him. "You said you have no name?"

As though to help him regain his hold on his memory, he glances around. Some small part of him groaned as he saw the chaos that subjugated the once neat and orderly apartment. Blood-stained pieces of linen that looked as though they had been used to wipe something, opened cabinets with contents seeming having been hastily rummaged through, and…


…The bloodied knife.


He roused himself from the couch, and walked over to retrieve it. He gazed at its smooth, rounded edge, as ordinary as any other of its kind in the apartment, and in a hesitant motion, ran it over his finger.

And then he watched, as a small red line formed—seemingly in defiance of all common sense, and his understanding of physical mechanics.

A perplexed frown.


—It was proving to be a complicated day today.

[Bloble]

Michael Blackmore
15th of December, 2004
East London - The Roof of a Certain Apartment Building
Afternoon (Phase 1-2)

“Have you finished your summoning? I have, and Caster’s quite the handful.”

"So sorry to hear that. My own arrangement couldn't have gone better. Archer has been very agreeable."

As Michael spoke, he reached into the bowl of grapes with his free hand and plucked a handful from their vines. Then, one by one, he flicked them into the mob of pigeons like marbles. The birds pecked and prodded at the fruit with unrestrained enthusiasm, at first drinking up the juices and then gulping down the seeds.

It was strange to hear another magus over the phone. Akechi was one thing, but most Lords were functionally tech illiterate. Not that Michael minded; on the contrary, he was overjoyed. Communication via familiar was just so impersonal, and letters were far too slow. But, speaking of letters...

"Did you get my e-mail? These electronic services are more reliable than postal, but I've had messages slip through the cracks before."

[Katie]

Erika Kanzaki
15th of December, 2004
The House in Misty Village
Afternoon (Phase 1-2)

"So sorry to hear that. My own arrangement couldn't have gone better. Archer has been very agreeable."

“Ah, it’s not like that,” I say, compelled to defend Caster. “It’s like having a rambunctious little sister. Not something I’m unused to.”

That’s pretty apt. Yui, Natsuki, Caster… I’ve sure had to care for some excitable slackers, though I guess I can’t call Caster a slacker. Still, you would think somewhere in my life I wouldn’t be surrounded by people so immature for their age. Maybe I just attract them or something…?

"Did you get my e-mail? These electronic services are more reliable than postal, but I've had messages slip through the cracks before."

“Oh, I can bring that up right now,” I say, thankful I both have an excuse as for what I was doing on the computer and that Blackmore also had initiative on his part. Scanning through the e-mail, though… Just what are those images attached at the end? Is he like a more encouraging Natsuki? Why in the world is there all this positive reinforcement stuff?

“Erm, this might be doable, depending on whether or not they’ll let an assistant lecturer like me look at anything. I can try to pull some strings check sometime soon, tomorrow at the latest. Nothing guaranteed, though.”

It’s an honest reply. As interconnected I am in the academic side of the Clock Tower, the higher-ups don’t like me. It’s one thing for a first-generation magus to earn the respect of her students and peers, but another entirely for her to earn the respect of her superiors. Besides, without a convenient search function, looking through it all will both be tedious and time consuming.

But, whatever. It’s certainly a start. Time to ask the question on my mind.

“Since we’re in the same area or something like that, you mind if we go on a nightly patrol? I doubt our enemies will make a move so suddenly, but I figured looking around London wouldn’t hurt in case someone tries something immediately.” Better to poke around together than by ourselves if an incident happens. And, at the very least, Blackmore has given the impression of being an agreeable person, so he’s the kind of person who would be most suited for this idea. The others are more lone wolves than anything else. “I say at night because Caster has to work on some things, presumably. That alright with you?”

[Bloble]

Michael Blackmore
15th of December, 2004
East London - The Roof of a Certain Apartment Building
Afternoon (Phase 1-2)

"Oh? A patrol?"

The suggestion was enough to give Michael pause. It was rather forward, for what should have been a humble assistant lecturer. He'd expected her to be hesitant, perhaps fearful, but Erika Kanzaki's business-like tone said otherwise.

It put him in a bit of a bind. Michael had had plans of his own, involving the World's End and perhaps contacting Bazett for a similar venture. Furthermore, he and Archer were more suited to hang back and watch from afar, rather than wandering blindly looking for the enemy. At the same time, though...

"That's a wonderful idea, Ms. Kanzaki. Of course we can accompany you. Night is the ideal time to be roaming about, anyway. Less civilians that might get caught up in something dangerous."

He remembered what she'd looked like in that room. Small and nervous. Her job didn't involve fighting for her life. His did. There was no way Michael could leave someone like that to patrol by herself.

"How about I come by around eight or so?"

[Katie]

Erika Kanzaki
15th of December, 2004
The House in Misty Village
Afternoon (Phase 1-2)

"Oh? A patrol?"

There’s something about his surprise that catches me off guard. Is it truly that odd of a suggestion? Maybe it’s just showing my inexperience in these matters, that it’s a bad idea. Maybe I should have just asked him for advice instead of declaring I was going to do something immediately…

Well, it can’t be helped. He still agreed, so there’s no harm in something like that, right?

"How about I come by around eight or so?"

“Thanks, I’ll have something prepared by then.” I briskly hang up and close the laptop. There’s nothing more to do here except to check on what Natsuki and Caster are doing… which probably isn’t much. Though, when I walk back into the living room to get to my own, I can see and hear them both shouting at the TV with way more passion than I expect.

I sigh. I really do live in a house of children.

But that’s fine, I’ll just be the responsible one who gets all the work done. They can have fun a little bit longer before the full weight of what we’re involved in sits on their shoulders.

My room is rather sparse, but it at least is comfortable enough to sleep in and I have my own desk to do work in. A whiteboard occupies a large portion of a wall, with my schedule written on it. The calendar conveniently sits next to it. Still, looking at the things I have to do for this week…

Reading one of the items on that list gets me all angry and I immediately erase it, but that message is still so old you can kind of see it regardless. It’s too late to return it to him, for crying out loud. It’s mine now, I guess.

Anyway, I need to ignore that and pull out what I came here for. I did say I would have something prepared, so… Reaching into my desk, I pull out a map of London and spread it across, before pulling out a pendulum with a crystal at the end.

If the Holy Grail siphons mana from the leylines of London as that packet stated, and the summoning ritual is primarily done by the Grail…

Well, this should work.

Placing the pendulum above the map, I give it a good nudge, and wait to see what happens.

----------------

Wise Up!

Points of Interest
Rank B (2 PP) [30 PRA]
Detection

Points of Interest is a map of London with a pendulum above it with a crystal at the end. As Erika is someone devoted to the study of leylines, Points of Interest was originally used to find odd disturbances in them for investigation, but has since been repurposed to detect where people have been siphoning amounts of magical energy from London leylines. In other words… it’s a base detector. If there is a disturbance, the crystal will point to the location on the map.

Erika can choose one location and check for any disturbances in the leylines, providing a starting point for her investigation.

Location: ???

[Sei]

Aila Einzbern
15th of December, 2004
Afternoon (Phase 1-2)

A woman stands before me. Having emerged from a blinding flash of light, her dark skin and jet black hair are the first things to catch my eye. Everything about her sings a tale of a world I couldn't possibly know and the very weight of her presence only solidifies this. In a word, she's beautiful. Almost overwhelmingly so. Even in this dingy little room of mine, she shines as if her body itself is casting it's own light. She's radiant. However, her beauty alone can't detract from the tremendous amount of magical energy emanating from her body.

This is a Servant.

Without any prior knowledge to really draw from, my mind races towards this conclusion in an attempt to make sense of things. It takes me a minute or two to really catch up, but the logic is seemingly irrefutable. Even if it wasn't the most graceful of summonings, I still completed the ritual. I preformed all of the steps just as I was told and I've surely drawn the strongest card possible. Still... Gazing at her form... Her human form, I can't help but feel a little taken aback.

Her golden eyes look upon me somewhat expectantly. They alone give off a sense of authority, yet this sensation is not to be outdone by the coupled gentleness.

She asks me a simple question. "Are you my Master?"

Her words register with me all too well; however, I'm not entirely sure how I should respond.

Though I do feel an unseen bond between us, her presence is simply too great for me to deny. By all means, I am the Master to this Servant. Yes... But...

"Is it really alright for you to call me that?"

I question the idea out loud.

In the presence of a being so graceful, powerful, and divine, I'm all too aware of where I stand. My power is nothing compared to hers. Thus it seems laughable that the inferior person should get to call themselves 'master'. Not only that, but I imagine I must be quite the sight. Groveling on my knees... Praying without even believing in the power of prayer... None of it seems appropriate in the slightest.

"I'm... just a girl..." Slowly regaining my composure, I ease into a more relaxed position, "You can feel the difference between us. Can't you?"

[zikari8]

Mori Shiori
15th of December, 2004
Afternoon (Phase 1-2)

The servant known as Lancer was clearly not pleased by Shiori’s pompous performance. Although her mouth grew to a pearly white grin, her furrowed gaze was evidence enough of her displeasure. Evidently, she did not appreciate such mocking humor, but the fact that she had betrayed some reaction to the act pleased Shiori. It was proof that for all her power, the heroic spirit was once a human as well.

A spirit tied to the world through a grudge or a regret is often times incapable of rationale. Their sole emotion and mission stems around a single purpose; although they may at time seem to retain some sense of reason, they are ultimately incapable of emotional understanding. It is for this reason that such spirits are often classified as monsters. But evidently, a Heroic Spirit was different. To laugh, to cry, to anger, such are the territory of humans. In other words, a Servant was nothing to be feared as a monster nor worshipped as a god; they are very human and thus they can be reasoned with. Therein lied opportunity.

Upon Lancer’s reply, consisting of both praise and lecture, Shiori stayed steadfast in her expression. She received both in equal reaction, the same haughty smirk that suddenly seemed suited for her petite face and a comfortable silence. She was in no rush to rebut or deny any of Lancer’s accusations. Quite the opposite, she acknowledged the veracity of the Servant’s assessments as both accurate and indicative of the woman’s perceptiveness. As such, she saw no need to do more than politely and patiently allow the woman to finish.

"I am Lancer. A heroic spirit that has answered your calling. And while I must say I find your attitude wanting...your aptitude is worthy."

For that, Shiori responded appropriately. She folded her hands in front of her and made a discreet 15 degree bow.

“I thank you for the praise, Lancer. It is not unpleasant to have someone recognize my genius.”

Even when giving thanks, her tone was spicy between the covers of sweetness.

"You feel it...don't you?"

Lancer’s final question caused Shiori to pause. As if the yes or no question was something profound, the annoying expression on her face diminished and her gaze wandered. For a few seconds, she silently looked down at her own open hands, moving them slightly back and forth, as if confirming they were really hers. Once the moment of reflection was over, however, a light chuckle marked the return of her attention.

“Ohoho~ By it, are you perhaps referring to the light migraine that your spear gave me? If so, then yes, I suppose I do feel it a bit. In fact, it was very effective. Perhaps, too effective…”

Her left hand circled around the now punctured hole in her clothes, some of the only remaining evidence of the attack. It seemed like the strike had subsequently torn her upper undergarments. Otherwise, however, the bare skin that could be seen through the hole was scar-less, which Shiori seemed happy to draw attention to with her hand motions.

“If I may though, that was a rather bold stunt, you pulled there. Very few people besides me would be able to cope with the spear that as well as I. Even those who manage to survive without any lasting mental damage would likely still be groveling on the floor in pain. Thankfully for you, I happen to be familiar with a similar phenomenon, so there was no problem, but that was still quite reckless, Lancer. If I didn’t know better, I’d think that you wanted me dead.”

She made a quick glance at Lancer’s expression before laughing at her own suggestion.

“Ohohoho~ Of course, that would be ridiculous. You said it yourself, didn’t you? If you truly wanted me dead, I would certainly no longer be breathing. I do not deny that your strength far surpasses my own. Before you, I am in many ways defenseless. Even now, I believe you could kill me. But the fact that you don’t shows that you are not willing to. Or rather, you are willing to tolerate some degree of my insolence, correct?”

Shiori’s eyes bended into a particularly smug shape, inviting Lancer to challenge her theory. Her challenge did not last long, however, as she knew that there were much more important topics to discuss, without needlessly provoking the Heroic Spirit. And she didn’t have much time to waste doing so.

“So, Lancer, I hope you are willing to tolerate my wanting attitude for just a bit longer. I promise it will not be long…”

Gradually, her tone grew solemn. Bit by bit, her facetious attitude was waning.

“If we are to continue communicating, Lancer, I must be honest with you. Although I am certainly Mori Shiori, I am not Mori Shiori.

Without any more regard for proper speech etiquette, she began to speak at length of her circumstances. Motionlessly and honestly, she looked Lancer face to face and began to monologue.

“The truth is it seems that I was a little too compatible with your spear. I believe that the sudden introduction of your “education” combined with my… natural disposition have caused a mental imbalance between my experience and character. While my mind is adjusting to its newfound abilities, it is exhibiting the associated attitude outwardly. Basically, my personality is currently not what it usually is. Well, for someone like me, this isn’t too out of the ordinary.”

Yes, for example, take a student who just learnt a new word. If that word has a particular impact on the student, he may end up using it a lot for the next few days at every appropriate opportunity and even some inappropriate ones. Her current situation was similar to that hypothetical, albeit at an extreme. And just like the student’s vocabulary eventually stabilizes, her state was temporary.

“Soon enough, my character should normalize, while the rest of the powers you have given me remain. Once my sense of shame and lack of self-worth return, I’ll go back to being the snivelling, useless tool that I usually am.”

It took her a second of pause to internally recognize that her ability to self-deprecate had already returned, but she soldiered forward.

“Truthfully, I lack any confidence in myself to greet you appropriately, so I’d like to take this chance to speak with you, while I retain some form of dignity. I have come to recognize your strength and capacity. You are without a doubt the Heroic Spirit that I had wanted. And so, for now let us get to know each other, Lancer.”

Shiori smiled. On her face was not the haughty smirk that had plastered her face moments before nor was it the toothy forced grin of one doing the displeasant. It was friendly, honest, and confident. Like someone greeting a stranger for the first time. For all her cockiness and egocentric monologuing, this was truly an attempt at getting along.

"Any questions?"

[Bloble]

Michael Blackmore
15th of December, 2004
East London - The Roof of a Certain Apartment Building
Afternoon (Phase 1-2)

"Well. I suppose that settles the plans for tonight."

Michael lowered the phone and sighed. Then he remembered Archer.

"Oh! My apologies!" Slightly flustered, he pocketed the phone and patted himself down for no reason at all. "I should have consulted you. It's not an optimal strategy, I know, but..."

He clenched his fists, thinking of past and future both.

"Miss Kanzaki isn't an Enforcer like me. She's an assistant lecturer in the Clock Tower. A noncombatant. Her entry into this war was pure accident. I doubt she's ever had to fend for her life against another human being, much less a hero. Because of the circumstances of this war, she wasn't even allowed to object. It just - it's not right to force someone to fight like that."

He paused, deflated slightly.

"Especially for people that don't even care about her..."

What was he doing? This was a knight. A Servant. Not a parent he should have to justify himself to. Even so, Michael didn't want to foul up their working relationship. Honesty and good communication were more critical than most Enforcers and magi realized. After all, if you can't even talk to someone, how can you hope to understand and be understood in turn?

"Besides, she'd likely have gone out anyway. In that case, it's better to have someone that can protect her nearby."

[Ayakashi]

Caster of White
15th of December, 2004
Afternoon (Phase 1-2)

"Is it really alright for you to call me that?
I'm... just a girl... you can feel the difference between us.
Can't you?"

Aila hadn't directly affirmed wherever she was Caster's Master, but there was no need to further delve into that subject, for even the most inept spellcaster could recognise the link present between the two. In the end, as Caster had said, it was all a matter of formality.
What was in fact worthy of being addressed here however, was the girl' response and its captivating undertone: it had been entirely possible from a pessimist's point of view that the Master's placating predisposition was simply to put the summoned Servant at ease and comfort, being nothing more than a false show of submission; yet with these words and expression, with the natural atmosphere surrounding this summoning, it was most obvious that Caster was faced here with a very different scenario: a show of humility, humbleness, and perhaps, a show of denying one's own self-worth.

"Of course, I can feel the difference, but as per the intentions of this Holy Grail War's designs, I am a miracle which can only exist thanks to you. You hold the power to command me, to wield me as an instrument of your will..."

Pausing after having stated the obvious, the Servant's lips draw a pleasant smile.

"... but it is true that what is planned and what ends up becoming reality can differ greatly, to the point of having nothing in common. I do not mind being called your Servant, nor calling you Master... but if there is another appellation for us that you would prefer, I, REDACTED will gladly adhere to that instead. Let us begin with the most important of all though, and that is, what is your name?"