Fate/Reclamation (IC)

**Katie** · March 21st, 2018, 02:27 PM

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

“Oh, it’s hamburgers. Sandwiches existed in your time, right? Kinda like that.” Natsuki also isn’t sure what to do when Caster awkwardly pauses, so other than her simple explanation, she begins putting food on the table somewhat silently. Maybe she thinks she’s being judged? Really, Natsuki being uncomfortable around new people…

“Is something wrong, Caster?” I ask, though, as I suspect, the topic will probably be dodged for now. I glance at my own food, which looks good, at least. Natsuki even managed to dredge out fries from somewhere, so that’s a plus.

Hm…

Now that I think about it, this is a prime opportunity to let Caster vent out her curiosity, since it’s not like we have much else to do. I’m sure there’s still time to get everything I need prepared for our excursion, so it’s probably for the better if we explain all sorts of stuff she’s curious about in the modern era to the best of our ability. After all, Caster’s still probably the most educated person in the room, despite advancements in society. Any information we’d give her will probably end up being somehow useful.

“Well, you should sit down. Besides, if there’s anything you want to ask, feel free to.” I motion for Caster to take a seat, putting on a smile. Food will get cold if she doesn’t move. “It’s better if you know more about the era you’re summoned in anyway. And us.”

“Right,” Natsuki nods, before taking a messy bite out of her own burger. Good grief. She makes a big deal about not stepping on anyone’s toes and then acts like this…

And so, we had a long conversation about pretty much nothing.

**Mellon** · March 21st, 2018, 02:43 PM

Arwyn Cadfael Penrith & Saber
15th of December, 2004
Night (Phase 1-3)

The black Mercedes glided smoothly through the streets of Enfield, whizzing past the dark alleyways and residential streets with an almost casual ease. There were people around, of course, even at this hour. A drunk student stumbling back from a night out. A couple of gruff looking guys shouting at each other in front of a large pub, clearly about to duke it out. All in all, though, it was about as empty as London was ever going to get. Though it did raise the question of how this “War” was going to be fought, considering that there was the constant chance of civilian interference. Were they simply going to kill everyone that managed to even get a glimpse of a Servant?

Arwyn let out a sigh, as the S55 AMG turned left, heading further and further afield.

Either way, you had other, more pressing, concerns at the moment.

While normally you would have put on some music, something classical perhaps, this time your trip went by in complete silence. A feeling of tension filled your entire being, almost as if you were a chord of a violin stretched to your absolute limit. Perhaps Saber sensed your anxiety in a way. Or perhaps she was simply not in the mood for chatter. Either way, a couple of minutes later, you reached your destination, as you pulled into an empty parking lot.

The Lee Valley Regional Park was a massive park complex, centered around the Lea river, one of the larger tributaries of the Thames. While normally one would expect it to be mostly riverside trails and what not, the reality was that the large, ten thousand acres, park housed almost every type of natural environment ranging from well maintained urban-style parkland to full-blown nature reserves and forested areas. All things considered, you were far more interested in the latter, rather than the former at the moment.

The engine of the car turned off almost instantly, as Arwyn turned off the ignition and stepped outside into the orangeish hue of the streetlights illuminating the empty parking lot.

Gendou Matou & Rider (White)
15th of December, 2004
Night (Phase 1-3)

Thamesmead wasn’t quite what you had in mind when you thought of London if you were completely honest.

Large, almost faceless estate buildings lined these streets, looking nothing like the elegant architecture of image of London painted in your mind’s eye. No doubt it all looked very modern thirty years ago, when most of the buildings here were built, but now? It had all dated far faster than the old Victorian-style housing it was meant to replace. It wasn’t all too bad, though. You did pass by some rather interesting shops on the way here, Nigerian, Chinese, and Vietnamese corner stores, to be precise. It did give the area a rather unique flavor to be sure, but…

It still wasn’t particularly British, now was it?

The streets lined by the large apartment buildings finally made way to the riverside, which you found to be a bit nicer. The few buildings that were around, such as the nearby riverboat rental, were clearly made to attract tourists and other people who were simply looking for a relaxing riverside walk. A small hand-carved sign in front of the rental had the words “See you in the Spring!” written into it in an elegant, yet rusticly charming fashion.

This clear visitor-focused nature of the immediate area meant that the riverside itself was bordered by a rather nice looking and well-illuminated road, which could almost be described as “boulevard-esque”. And as you had learned already, even during your brief time in London, there were some people out and about. There were always people out and about in London, even at 2 AM on a rather insignificant Thamesmead riverside. In this case, the individuals about were a rather loud pair of semi-drunk twenty-something men on a distant park-bench. Though apparently not far enough for their chatter to not reach your ears, as you could clearly make out that the pair was engaged in a rather heated argument on different brands of… pickles? On the other side of the Thames, Gendou could only make out large warehouses and what appeared to be rather numerous stacks tall of shipping containers lined up on top of one another. Only a thin strip of grass, maybe three to four meters in width was all that could be considered to be the “riverside bank” on the other side.

And then…

An unbidden smile rose on unseen Rider’s face.

The smile of a hunter that had found his prey.

After all...

Archer (Blue)
15th of December, 2004
Night (Phase 1-3)

The streets that Archer glided through looked desolate and dirty. Even to a Heroic Spirit such as himself, it was evidently clear that he had long ago left behind the “glamorous” parts of the city and made his way somewhere which was more “working class” in nature.

The earlier parts of the area weren’t that bad, aesthetically. Traditional, English-style housing crammed together in a neat fashion. It was almost quaint in its own, albeit in an almost stereotypical way. But the closer the Heroic Spirit of the Bow actually got to the riverside, the more industrial his surroundings became. Warehouses, workshops, and various other industrial buildings littered the riverside. Using the knowledge provided by the Grail, the Heroic Spirit could easily read one of the nearby signs with the words “MIXIT” written on it in large gray-and-yellow letters. Apparently, the large steel and concrete complex that lay behind the sign was the “Premier provider of ready-to-mix concrete in Britan!”.

Despite the bold words, one could not shake the almost overwhelming atmosphere of desolation, dirt, and decay that filled the entire industrial area. Most businesses and buildings in the area looked like they had seen far better days than the ones that were upon them now and abandoned buildings littered the waterfront. Phasing through one of the gates led Archer into a what could only be described as a labyrinth of shipping containers stacked far higher than any man (or ten for that matter). Not really an obstacle for a Heroic Spirit that could, at will, transition into the form of a spirit, but no doubt one that would prove exceptionally difficult for normal people to bypass. In fact, access to the entire waterfront from this side of the Thames was almost completely blocked off by walls or other obstacles, with the clearest vector of approach for non-Servants probably being from the East side of the area, where the industrial complex into what looked to be an empty development project.

The bowman of the Blue faction easily phased through the last of the containers, reaching the riverside and finally catching glimpse of the leyline point underneath the Thames itself.

The other side of the bank looked far nicer. A small nicely lit riverside road snaked around the bank of the Thames, littered with small buildings and park benches. Only a few individuals were around. Archer could only make out a pair of men on a bench a distance off and a blue-haired man in a leather jacket who, after finishing his the final vestiges of his cigarette, chucked the smoldering cigarette butt into the Thames with a casual arc.

And then…

All of Archer’s senses suddenly kicked into overdrive.

A glint of steely resolve flickered in the eyes of the man who was willing to put everything on the line for his wish.

After all...

After all...

At this moment, almost by pure chance, the two Heroic Spirits had found the enemy they had been looking for.

**arkturus** · March 21st, 2018, 04:11 PM

Assassin of White
15th of December, 2004
Himitsu to Hanazono “Akechi’s Apartment Complex”
Afternoon (Phase 1-2)

Assassin scoffed. It wasn't the most tactically sound decision but considering her Master's circumstances she was willing to make concessions. Besides she was somewhat curious about her Master's family.

"ExPosiNg yOuRsELf iN a cROwdEd aREa whEN tHE wAr hAs aLrEadY bEgUn iS FooLish. I sHaLL foLLoW aNd eNsuRe yOur saFeTy. It wiLL aLsO givE mE ThE chAncE tO pErfORm REcOnnAissANcE On ThE suRROUNdiNg aREa." Assassin gazed at the map, noting important landmarks, the general layout of the city, and the path to the opera house before committing it to memory.

"GaTheRiNg inTel aNd aSSeSSiNg yOuR rEsOurCes iS a wiSe dEcisiOn. ALthOugH...I fiNd hOw diSoRgAniZed yOu aNd yOuR aLLieS sEEm tO bE oBjecTioNaL. IsN't tHis sUppOsed tO bE a wAr?" She turned and gave a slight sigh. Was it a side effect of these magi being so secretive that they refused to cooperate and share information in non-roundabout ways? This must be a challenge from Allah, a lesson to teach her something.

"ThErE iS oNe LaSt tHinG I aSk oF yOu."

Assassin turned back around the face Akechi and stretched to her full height, towering over the magus, before bending down slightly so their eyes met. Her gaze burrowed deep into Akechi's soul.

"ThE gRaiL iS aN aRTiFaCt oF iMMenSe PoWeR. WiTh iT yOu CouLd aTTaiN aNy wiSH bEyoNd yOur WiLdeSt dReAms. WhAt iS iT tHat yOu aRe fiGhtiNg fOr, tHat yOu wOuLd coMMit yOurSeLF tO sUcH aN uNdeRTakiNg, aNd hOw fAr aRe yOu wiLLiNg tO gO? AnSwer Me aNd oNLy tHen wiLL I aCCept yOu aS mY mAsTeR."

**Reiu** · March 22nd, 2018, 03:08 AM

Arwyn Cadfael Penrith
15th of December, 2004
Night (Phase 1-3)
Lee Valley Park

Snowfall. A silent scene of nature, a rare respite in the city, blanketed in white—an also altogether rare occurrence for London. Together, the scenery betrayed no sense of the decidedly gray city he knew, but rather, reminded Arwyn of someplace else.

Somewhere distant in his memory,
far to the north from here, years in the past from now—

As his own breaths came out in white mist before him, he tries to shake the thought from his mind.

Now, of all times, was not the time to reminisce of what had so long ago been called home.

After all…

He composed himself, and went silently to retrieve from the boot of the car the reason for their excursion here, a place that was almost guaranteed to be deserted of people at this hour, and secluded. An ideal location, for this.

It was heavy. Of course it was.

—After all, it had once been the weight of a man.

Ignoring both the signals of residual pain his left arm was sending, and the stinging feeling in his chest as he hefted the travel bag, Arwyn locked the car.

“It’s not too cold for you, is it?” he murmurs, his gaze averted from Saber.

Her new wardrobe didn’t lack for overcoats; he may have bought somewhat too much of everything, out of fear she wouldn’t take to some of them (despite Saber's stated lack of preference, one couldn’t be too careful). Still, he had no idea whether she was used to this climate, wherever distant land in the past she hailed from.

Then again, did Servants even have that problem?

He had made an effort to take in as best he could the information in the book given to him by Father Kotomine, with the afternoon’s outing complete, but nowhere did it mention anything of Servants' sensitivity to temperature.

Or perhaps he simply did not recall. With the day’s task weighing on his mind the whole time, he couldn’t much judge how successful he was at in processing all the information.

”This will do, yes. I’m not quite used to this sort of attire, but it’s what I’d imagine what a Northerner would wear. This kind of weather is new to me.”

Saber's answer was received with a small nod. Hopefully acclimating wouldn't prove too much of an issue for her, but it appeared to be fine for now, at least.

Refreshing his memory on the layout of the park he had looked up earlier, Arwyn makes for an isolated area of the vast grounds, far removed from any trail.

The metal weight of a new acquisition lay concealed in his coat pocket.

**Mellon** · March 22nd, 2018, 04:38 PM

Aila Einzbern & Caster (White)
16th of December, 2004
Night (Phase 1-3)

The Science Museum itself was a large and rather old-looking building, its facade composed of beige bricks and littered with classical-looking pillar motifs. A bizarre contradiction to be sure, to house the relics that overturned the past in a building so ancient-looking, but that was London in a nutshell, you supposed. People desperately trying to find relevance to old traditions in a world that seemingly cared less and less.

Even from the outside of the building, you could feel it. A bizarre kind of shimmer that ran throughout the entire air of this place. Whatever the appearances the Museum put on the outside, it was clearly not welcoming of those working with supernatural arts. Chills ran across your back. Not because of fear or any other emotion, but simply due to the discomfort that your magic circuits were under. All these items that were purposely made to pierce the “veil of mystery” had seemingly gained a power all of their own, from the looks of it. One that went completely against the mindset of magi who spent their lives actualizing the mysteries of the past.

You had no idea whether Caster felt it more strongly due to being even more a product of the past, or less due to her strength as a Heroic Spirit. Not that you could really tell with her being in Spirit Form. Either way, your two other, more corporeal, companions weren’t quite as unreadable. Lapis was clearly on the edge, unnerved by the museum itself, her arms drawn closer to her body, almost instinctually. The anti-mystery nature of this place clearly had a more significant effect on your erstwhile butler than it did on you. Ushabti, meanwhile…. Well, ever since first laying his eyes on Caster, his behavior had been simply plain weird. His normally biting commentary had almost vanished, and the tanned man was seemingly a perfect image of a gentleman. Polite, well mannered, and all-in-all the perfect image of servitude. Honestly, this shift in the normally abrasive man's personality was probably even weirder than the oppressive atmosphere of the Science Museum.

Lapis let out a slight shiver.

“Milady, is this truly a good idea? The spiritual environment of this place...”

Her words were suddenly interrupted by the front door of the museum which swung open, revealing the presence of a rather pudgy-looking security guard. The beam of light emitting from his flashlight swung wildly about, trying to find something (or more likely something) to illuminate in the darkness of the empty museum parking lot. Judging from his stature and body language though… not really the bravest man you had ever laid your eyes on. In fact, the erratic movements of his flashlight were more likely a gesture to scare off any potential intruders, rather than born from any actual desire to confront any interlopers.

“W...Who goes there?”

Freogan Deofolgeat & Berserker (Blue)
16th of December, 2004
Night (Phase 1-3)

Ol’ Isleworth was one of the “respected” parts of London. Bloody toffs, the lot of them. While the past couple of decades had markedly changed the appearance of the district, a couple of high-rise apartment buildings hardly wiped away the rather suburban-esque look of the district itself. After all, the prime attraction to this part of town were its numerous “picturesque” 18th and 19th-century mansions, built by various local lordlings and other rich folks. And there was literally nothing to do in this neck of the woods. No concerts, no proper pubs. Truly, an area that really didn’t mesh with Freogan’s sense of aesthetics. Though, considering the prevalent aesthetic sense of many of his colleagues and the society he had chosen to be a part of, these were the types of environments the brash magus was often forced to tread.

Besides, it was ruddy cold outside.

Not that the Heroic Spirit next to him seemed to mind. Did Heroic Spirits even feel the drop in temperature? Not when they were incorporeal, that’s for sure. Spirits sensed fluctuations in spiritual energy. Not temperature or smell. How could they? Senses like that were fundamentally linked to the presence of a “body”. Something that spirits were typically lacking. Although that rule, along with many others had evidently easily smashed by this ludicrous ritual.

The Lion Wharf Road opened up, revealing the banks of the Thames in the distance. And your goal along with it. The Isleworth Ait wasn't really anything special if Freogan was completely honest. It was neither particularly large nor even unique as an islet. An island would be too grandiose a term in this case. However, its true uniqueness really came from its location. In London, it was probably one of the only patches of truly unrestrained nature. Oh, there was Lee Valley to the north, but even that was largely maintained and at least somewhat maintained. The Ait though… due to its nature as a wildlife reserve (you heard that over fifty species of birds lived on this small speck of land), it was only visited by some occasional volunteers and no one else.

An untouched tiny slice of natural land in the middle of eight million souls.

Now if only you could find some way to get over to that bloody natural wonderland, for you sure as hell weren’t up for a swim in the Thames.

**Verg Avesta** · March 22nd, 2018, 11:22 PM

Freogan Deofolgeat
16th of December, 2004
Night (Phase 1-3)

"Better watch your steps. Even the ponces around here like to redecorate the pavement when staggering home in the wee hours of the morning."

That was yet another comment from Freogan, who cracked open his third beer for the night (Tetley's Smooth Flow draught, bitter) and took a huge swig, letting out an audible burp that echoed in the narrow street. His comment wasn't exactly wrong just a second or two after he had said it, the pale cone of the streetlight revealed what must've been some local pub-goer's lunch, vomited up all over the sidewalk. Of course it wasn't as if it could really bother a Servant in their spirit form but... perhaps it had been courtesy, nonetheless? Or then, despite what he said, the alcohol was slowly starting to get to Freogan.

"Bloody lighter...! C'mon, work already, you piece of shit..."

It was hard to tell, all things considered.

Lighting up yet another cigarette, Freogan was well on his way in going through his pack of Lucky Bastard-branded rolls of death. Indeed, once he had left Alexandra's office, he had tended to light one up whenever he had the moment. Others might have called it a way to deal with stress, but that clearly wasn't the case. Every minute spent inside the stuffy offices and corridors of the Clock Tower had shown the man to be as ornery and foul-mooded as ever. How exactly one could be so spiteful yet stop to talk with every student that greeted him, asking about their studies and if they were doing fine, was a question for the ages.

It was not until Freogan finally got back to the streets of London that he seemed to almost throw off that scowling spirit of his. His facial muscles eased up, his back straightened slightly and his mouth was no longer a thin line ready to spew insults. Instead he took the atmosphere of the dirty streets in with a deep breath, like an animal let out of his cage. Animal that then began to roam the streets of the city, heading slowly towards their target while explaining the local sights and places to Berserker. It was less of a tactical overview and more of a, well, a local guy showing the city to the new face they met. Even if said 'local guy' bee-lined to buy beer and cigarettes the moment he got out of the said cage.

And speaking of cages...

"Coming outta my cage and I've been doing just fine, gotta gotta be down because I want it all! It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this? It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss~"

Snapping back to reality, there was no mistaking it. Freogan was, for some reason, singing a tune quietly as he approached the very end of the Lion Wharf Road, letting his eyes take in the sight of the White Lion Court building, now no more than empty office place for sale. From there his eyes ended up staring at the dirty, murky depths of Thames flowing past them and Isleworth Ait that lay there, on the other side, so close yet quite far. Freogan took another drag from his cigarette and leaned against the railing, enjoying the brisk night breeze that flew in from somewhere in the east.

"Jealousy, turning saints into the sea, swimming through sick lullabies, chocking on your alibis, but it's just the price I pay, destiny is calling, open up my eager eyes~!"

Whatever the song he was singing under his breath was, perhaps the most surprising thing about this was that Freogan, in all honesty, had a voice that was clearly accustomed to singing. It wasn't smooth like silk or technical marvel, but there was no doubt that Freogan had sung numerous times in past. Maybe not songs like this, but something, that much was certain.

"Well, there's the bloody spot of land."

Stopping his song short, Freogan gulped down the rest of his beer with one smooth move and tossed the can behind him. He gestured towards the dark, almost black-and-brown, river that flowed not ten meters from there. On the other side of it was almost impenetrable wall of wood that seemed very out of place in this day and age, especially in the middle of a city such as London. While an odd sight, there seemed to be nothing too suspicious about it... well, not unless you were a magus. And despite being dressed in beaten up leather jacket, smoking and drinking and cursing like a thug, and singing songs that were rather uncouth... Freogan was a magus?

The line blurred the more time one spent with him.

"Anyways, nothing much else to see here. There's a good Chinese place I know not far from here, but hell if I'm going to walk there now. My legs are sodding sore, I tell you," Freogan grumbled as he brought his cigarette to his lips another time. "What else... well, the King's Observatory is on the other side, just stone's throw away. I guess some tossers think it's neat. I don't."

To demonstrate, Freogan picked up a pebble from the asphalt and flung it towards Isleworth Ait. The pebble in question fell straight into Thames without even getting close to its target.

"Urgh, anyway, that there's our target. Looks like nothing's cocked up around here yet, but you never know, so..." Freogan motioned the empty air to follow him. "Plus I'm gonna need a sodding boat to get there. Ain't no way I'm risking my arse swimming across that pit of shit some of these wankers call Thames."

Freogan practically skipped a step as he stood back up and headed up the wharf, on the small stone-paved path that connected the ends of Lion Wharf Road and Swan Street. There, at the end of this small path, one could see the inviting lights of a light-grey brick building and its wooden veranda, where some people were still chatting. After all, for the night owls of London, the evening was far from over though the date may have changed. A wooden plaque hung from the old lamppost at the corner of the building, reading "Town Wharf Pub". In other words, it was an establishment serving alcohol and food.

... And it was exactly where Freogan headed.

"Alright alright, two pints for me and my date here," Freogan grunted at the waitress he passed, serving drinks at the veranda. He let his eyes take in the place and then chose a spot near the corner of the wooden platform, where they'd have a perfect view of the island. "And throw in some fish and chips, would you love? All this walking's making me peckish."

Although confused by Freogan ordering for two, yet being alone, the waitress disappeared back inside. The blonde man on the other hand, sat down on the wooden bench and finished up his cigarette... by using it to light up another one. He leaned his elbows against the table, drumming an excited beat against the railing with his fingers. Those blue eyes of his scanned the shoreline of Isleworth Ait... before suddenly adopting a somewhat annoyed expression and looking back towards the empty air behind him.

"Make yourself visible already. It feels like I'm chatting up empty air," he grumbled at Berserker. "Not to mention ain't no way you can enjoy that pint without proper stomach for it to fill."

A slightly inebriated-looking grin played on Freogan's face.

**Kuroyuki** · March 23rd, 2018, 07:17 PM

Akechi Tohsaka
15th of December, 2004
Himitsu to Hanazono “Akechi’s Apartment Complex”
Afternoon (Phase 1-2)

Originally Posted by Assassin

"ThEn I sHaLL mAkE pRepaRatiOns FOrTiFyinG tHis LocATioN aNd sEcuRiNg tHe iMMediAte ViCiniTy."

“I’ll leave the fortification to you then. I trust that you’ll notify me of any developments.”

I started going through my closet looking for clothes presentable for the opera. I started pushing aside all of my practical and school clothing to the side… I should have something nice.

Originally Posted by Assassin

"GaTheRiNg inTel aNd aSSeSSiNg yOuR rEsOurCes iS a wiSe dEcisiOn. ALthOugH...I fiNd hOw diSoRgAniZed yOu aNd yOuR aLLieS sEEm tO bE oBjecTioNaL. IsN't tHis sUppOsed tO bE a wAr?"

I’m glad Assassin didn’t just brush off our disorganization as a mere trifle because we would be acting independently for the most part.

“Yes you’re right, our side is very disorganized. Instead of one combined army that has one plan and goal like our enemies, we’re three different armies with different plans to reach the same goal. So I’m taking it upon myself to organize us.”

Finally, I find something that might be suitable for the opera tonight. A navy blue dress that has a short enough skirt not to hinder my movements. Black opera gloves that I can reinforce as a last-ditch armor. Yet still elegant and beautiful enough for me to attend an opera without worry. Yes this will do nicely.

Originally Posted by Assassin

"ThErE iS oNe LaSt tHinG I aSk oF yOu."

I hang the dress on a nearby area next to my bathroom door. I start undressing so that I can take shower before placing on the dress. Casually taking off my jacket and other outerwear.

“Go ahead and ask Assassin.”

Originally Posted by Assassin

"ThE gRaiL iS aN aRTiFaCt oF iMMenSe PoWeR. WiTh iT yOu CouLd aTTaiN aNy wiSH bEyoNd yOur WiLdeSt dReAms. WhAt iS iT tHat yOu aRe fiGhtiNg fOr, tHat yOu wOuLd coMMit yOurSeLF tO sUcH aN uNdeRTakiNg, aNd hOw fAr aRe yOu wiLLiNg tO gO? AnSwer Me aNd oNLy tHen wiLL I aCCept yOu aS mY mAsTeR."

I finally get to taking off my underwear. Starting with my bra and then my panties. Upon removing my panties, my Command Seals were shown to Assassin. I just look over my shoulder before answering Assassin.

“Assassin, I’m fighting this war for my family’s dream. A simple dream passed down from generation to generation. To reach the Root. With the Holy Grail, we can reach our dream within our lifetime. I do not have a personal wish with the grail, but I’ll do anything in order to bring it to my father.”

I may have said that but in the back of my mind. I could hear a small voice that wanted to wish for something simple…_{“I want all of my family to be happy.”}

**Mellon** · March 24th, 2018, 06:15 PM

Akechi Tohsaka & Assassin (White)
15th of December, 2004
Royal Opera House
Night (Phase 1-3)

The Royal Opera House was an opulent building, filled with all the excesses typically associated with high-brow culture. Originally called as the Theatre Royale, during the 18th century when the first theatre in this location had been built, the Royal Opera House had a long and eventful history, not all of it particularly pleasant. In 1808, the first incarnation of the opera house burned down, with its successor opening its doors a year later. A mere forty-eight years later, the Opera House completely burned down once again. The current incarnation of the opera house was its third incarnation, by far the largest and most opulent in design and structure.

Also, the longest lasting one, having, surprisingly, survived both World Wars intact.

The vestibule was large and well-lit by an elaborate chandelier, allowing pastel tones to dominate much of the room, A considerable number of people were moving about the hall, most of them around the cloakroom, but a fair number were also seated at the small cafeteria near the other end of the entry hall. It was there, where you found the three individuals you were looking you were looking for.

Noticing you in the crowd, a smile blossomed on Tokiomi’s face, as he beckoned Akechi to join them.

“I’m glad that you were able to join us. I hope all went well?”

Not that the Tohsaka patriarch’s eyes held any expectation of failure in them. If there was one thing that the suited man truly took pride in it was his children, all of whom, were diamonds in their own right. Speaking of which, at Tokiomi’s side, one of your younger sisters raised her own glass in greeting.

“It has been a while, Akechi-nee. How have you been?”

A playful grin flickered on Rin’s lips. The Tohsaka heir was dressed in a red dress that perfectly reflected her personality. Confident and, even at times, brash, Rin had always possessed more of a take charge personality amongst the three Tohsaka sisters. Something which had naturally meshed with her more ambitious nature. Nevertheless, your raven-haired sister was fiercely protective of her family, and especially her younger sister.

Speaking of which…

Whereas Rin was tended to be more forceful in terms of character, your youngest sister, Sakura, was almost the complete opposite. A kind-hearted girl, her soft nature was somewhat of a rarity in the supernatural world, which tended to bring out the harsher traits of people. However, it wasn’t as if the youngest Tohsaka sister had been particularly sheltered. On the contrary, she had gone through the very same training that Rin (and you, for that matter) had and Tokiomi Tohsaka was not a man who would let his emotions get in the way of proper training. No. Sakura possessed an inner strength that allowed her to persevere and keep hold of her kindness even when she had come to the Clock Tower a couple of years back. Especially considering the institutionalized racism here against eastern students.

In many ways, she had always reminded you of a willow. Bending with the wind, but possessing an inner strength that would never break.

“Its good to see you again, Onee-san.”

**canaki** · March 24th, 2018, 06:35 PM

Archer of Blue
15th of December, 2004
East London
Night (Phase 1-3)

Night had fallen upon this great city of London. The thin sliver of the moon was barely hanging above the silhouettes of buildings cluttering the horizon, clinging to the sky as it too fell slowly, following the long lost sun. The lampposts throwing light upon the streets and the warm light of civilization shining from windows warded away some of the darkness, but still, the shadows were deep, fit for lurking, perfect for secrets. It was time for the hidden war to begin.

As Archer got out of the cramped car belonging to his master, he glanced back towards the neighborhood, critically eyeing the small lights tangled up in some bushes and trees, some even covering a rooftop merrily. With a somewhat exasperated sigh, he shook his head and stepped towards the cozy looking house to follow his master. Who seemed to be adjusting his bowtie for the… was it the third time in the past few minutes?

“Oh dear, this’ll be awkward. We met earlier today, but Miss Kanzaki and I barely exchanged words then… I don’t suppose you’ve any advice on the topic, Archer?”

Looking up at the windows, Archer absently swatted away a ball of fluff floating into his face. He then ran his hand through his hair distractedly, before stopping midway, slowly smoothing away the fresh ruffles.

“... I’m afraid I can’t say I’m very good at introductions either. Feigning dead, pretending to be a stranger, why even once… I really don’t have a history of introducing myself properly.”

Introductions were quite a tricky business. Archer nodded, glancing with a slightly worried expression at his master laughing weakly.

“Well, it’s never too late to learn, I suppose. Do Servants have any, uh… no, right, you wouldn’t normally talk peacefully with another one...”

Archer blinked. “Any…?”, a single brow arched questioningly.
“I’ve never been summoned in such manner before, I’m unfortunately unaccustomed to what servants normally do.”

“I’ve no idea what a proper Enforcer would do, either. We’re expected to solve any problems with violence, so most don’t bother with the diplomatic approach. Let’s just be on our best behaviour.”
Rather than knocking on the door itself, his master pushed a small button on the side, and a short ring sounded from somewhere in the house.

After some pattering footsteps, a short girl pulled the door open with a creak. She announced their arrival to “Erika”, and the servant signature in the house was not her; if she was neither a master nor a servant, how did she fit into this war?
“Miss Caster, is it?”
Unfortunately, it seemed that his master had arrived at the wrong conclusion. Archer ran his hand over his face, barely suppressing a twitch of his mouth.
“Master, I believe she isn’t-”
Her burst of laughter, as well as another girl materializing -- she was the servant of the household --, who then shared her amusement of the confusion, had Archer trailing off into momentary silence.

With the master of Caster, Erika Kanzaki’s introduction of the others, Archer dipped his head understandingly.
“A friend to share your days with, a truly valuable part of life.”
Then, with his hand on his heart, Archer bowed to the three women.
“Truly a delight to meet you, Lady Kanzaki, Lady Caster, and Lady Natsuki. I am … if I may introduce myself by my servant class, I am a knight of the bow, Archer. Please excuse me for not giving my name.”

Archer’s eyes kept on flickering between Caster and her master as Caster greeted them, and even as the conversation flowed towards heading out.
In fact, it was only when they left the boundary field and started walking, guided by Caster’s master, did he finally direct his attention to the environment.

After covering some distance in silence, the two masters resumed their discussion of this expedition goals. The significance leylines held for magi was entirely lost on Archer, but the importance of securing resources was something quite familiar. Especially in wartime, there were risks that needed to be taken.
“Taking unclaimed territory is not only a gain for yourselves, but a loss for the enemies. Unless the cost of maintaining ownership is too great, this is a rather reasonable venture. Dealing with any angered rightful owners can be considered after you survive this ordeal and proper order is regained within your organization.”
Archer paused, with a slight tilt of his head.
“Though, I’m afraid I’m not very familiar with what exactly this ‘claiming a leyline’ business entails, and how we may be of help. If this was an enemy base we were to infiltrate, or even a task to capture some person or object… but I don’t suppose capturing leylines involves direct combat?”

As far as Archer understood, he and his master were expected to remove any obstacles that could possibly interfere with the actual process. Leave the fighting to knights, and let the scholars work on the technical aspects. As both Caster and her master seemed to be the type driven by their thirst to know and appetite to understand, this division of tasks was not particularly surprising.
His master disapproving of it was. Despite looking like a young girl, rather than a young woman, Erika Kanzaki was made of tougher material than her appearance suggested. She was not the kind to be washed away in the waves of fate, and he could see Caster’s cheery nature would keep her afloat even in dire times. They were dependable allies he could work with. Even with different roles in warfare, they were individuals he could treat as equals. Acting otherwise would be disgraceful.

Hence, when Caster expressed her curiosity in strategies they have -- even specifically adding “You too, Mister Archer!” -- he did not hold back to explain what he could contribute with.

“I consider myself a rather simple warrior. Seek and destroy: I can only observe the enemy, then strike at the best moment, in the best way I know of. As an Archer, charging in blindly isn’t a choice. On the other hand, I do have some help from feathery friends, any situation of being entirely unaware of enemies should be fairly unlikely.”
Most likely not a role one would expect when they think of knights. Still, that was all he could do in this container.

With a better understanding of what each member of this quest was capable of, Archer gave a short nod to his master’s assessment of the situation.
With a bow to Caster and her master,
“As my master shall be your shield against direct danger, I shall be your eyes to prevent unexpected encounters. I leave you, fair ladies, in the trustworthy hands of my master. It was a pleasure to converse with you.”
-- and facing his master once more,
“Master, I will report any disturbances.”
Archer promptly faded into spirit form, hearing his master’s parting “Stay safe, Archer” as he swiftly departed.

“Whatever happens, I’ll trust your judgement, Archer. As you can see, my own isn’t flawless; I saw Miss Kanzaki as an innocent victim to be shielded, but she’s no such thing. If you are even half the great knight that history suggests you are, then I have faith that whatever decision you make will be the correct one.”

Hearing his master’s additional message, Archer’s lips twisted into a bitter smile, safe in the knowledge that nobody could see him.
How could he trust the weak-willed knight I was in life? For even I despise my own tale.

--------------------------------------------------------
Archer of Blue
16th of December, 2004
East London - Creekmouth
Night (Phase 1-3)

Hours had passed since Archer had volunteered himself to scout ahead. Even with the city lights concealing the dim stars, the traces of starlight moving across the dark night sky was enough for him to tell it was well past midnight.
The way to the nexus point had been peaceful so far. Perhaps, as they hoped, there will be no direct confrontations. Passing through the containers, he idly wished for this to last--

Originally Posted by GM

All of Archer’s senses suddenly kicked into overdrive.

A glint of steely resolve flickered in the eyes of the man who was willing to put everything on the line for his wish.

“Master, there is a servant nearby. Class unknown, exact location unknown --”

-- just because he couldn’t tell doesn’t mean the other servant can’t as well--

“-- possibly in spirit form. Three figures visible on the riverside, one pair of men and one man by himself --”

-- they need to be removed from the vicinity before they witness anything unfortunate--

“-- none have evidence pointing towards their status as masters or magi. I will attempt to incapacitate them for further investigation --”

-- they could be unrelated bystanders… or not--

“-- … I will not harm them until I am certain they are our enemies.”

As he rapidly reported the situation to his master through their mental connection, Archer directed his feathered friends on the other side of the river for a better view of his targets, while he himself backed slowly into the labyrinth of boxes. Leaping up for a better spot to possibly aim from, Archer settled himself within a dent in the cluster of steel containers.
Materializing behind one of them, he pressed his right hand over one eye, as his bow appeared in his left.

The redwing cautiously fluttered down to perch on the bench back, where the pair of men were discussing … pickles? The stench of alcohol informed him they were somewhat drunk, young men. Unless they meant enemy servants -- himself, in this case -- by pickles, they seemed to be common people enjoying their night out.
The sparrowhawk hovering over the single man on the riverside could hear nothing from him -- of course a loner walking by himself was silent -- and the cigarette tossed away did not hint towards any magecraft employed by smoke, or anything ridiculous magi could possibly do with fire and smoke. He seemed to be a healthy young man, nothing pointing towards nefarious purposes to be by the river. Perhaps he had some trouble at home, and was calming himself by taking a walk, gazing at the river? He certainly could understand the feeling of waves soothing his nerves.

Shifting his senses back to his own, Archer stood up, rubbed his face, and took a breath. What he told his master in regards to this “patrol” was flashing in his mind.

Originally Posted by Afternoon thoughts

“I am certain you are already aware, but running headlong into an unknown enemy is not a situation I would be very useful in. Even if we were to find a master-servant pair, without preparations, we may be unable to combat them effectively, forced to flee.”

“It is time to see exactly how useful I am against the unknown, shall we.”

This was the worst possible kind of encounter for him. Against an invisible enemy he knew nothing about, there were no targets he could strike at, there were civilians he needed to remove -- preferably safely -- from the potential battlezone, and he couldn’t even retreat because he was here to clear and secure this area. His survival wasn’t the only thing in balance, and there were too many factors to consider.
He glanced at the bow he had grasped in his left hand. In a dark corner of his mind, there was a thought suggesting “why not kill them, it would be easier”, but no, especially when he had other ways to deal with them. They hadn’t given him any reason to attack, he was not that much of a beast.
No, he wouldn’t be using this until it was absolutely necessary.

“Would you forgive me for my weakness, -------?”

With a faint smile and a name murmured silently, a song of pain and longing filled the southern bank of Thames, carried by the birds soaring in the cold London skies.

Wise Up

**Zagrin** · March 25th, 2018, 08:55 AM

Rider (White)
15th of December, 2004
Night (Phase 1-3)

As Rider detected the signs of his first opponent a strange song began to enter his ears and with it a strange sense of drowsiness. However it wasn't only him, the two drunkards nearby were also suddenly starting to quiet down and his Master similarly started to move sluggishly. As for the source of the song it seemed to be coming from...the birds above? This was unnatural, this was...no doubt, the work of the enemy! One who was clearly a coward if he began the battle with a lullaby for his opponents. What, did he not have the stomach to fight as all warriors should? For one such as Rider who presided over the battlefield, to be met with such a flaccid opening act was...a little aggravating, to say the least.

Still such thoughts wouldn't be enough to stave off the imminent sleep that was about to take him, thus Rider would need to deal with the source of the problem.

Master...

As he contacted his Master, Rider had already begun to move, making a dash towards the open water whilst drawing his sword.As he drew the blade runes flashed across it in crimson hues before finally dimming once more to the same dull blackness as the sword that they ran across. Perhaps his master cared about the modern day obsession with secrecy regarding magic and everything related to it, but Rider himself cared little for such rubbish.

I've sensed the enemy, it seems to be a single servant. I can't tell its class, nor whether the Master is close by, however I am certain this strange sense of drowsiness is linked to them somehow and his very presence is something of a nuisance for our purposes...

As his thoughts trailed, Rider finally reached the railing beside the bank and leapt off it, diving into the waters of the Thames. There was calm for a brief moment, which was interrupted by a frenzy of ripples as a shadow underneath the water's surface surged straight towards the other side of the river where the enemy Servant was located. It seemed as though not even crossing the River Thames proved much of an obstacle when it came to Rider hunting down his prey. Still even as he exerted himself so, he could feel his eyes growing heavier, a detail his Master did not need to know.

Whether you stay here to claim this place, flee if you fear the prospect of the enemy's Master ambushing you while I do battle or even take a nap because of this insufferable song, I do not care. Simply ensure that you do not die, it would be bothersome for me were that to happen.

With that Rider was done communicating with his Master and now would focus on the battle ahead. Slowly his head and body seemed to rise out of the water, while his speed remained constant. Rather than swimming, it seemed as though he was comfortably sitting on something. In one hand he still clutched the sword he had drawn earlier while in his other he held what appeared to be...reins?

And those reins seemedd to be attached to the water itself! No, that wasn't entirely accurate, true they appeared to be attached to the water, but this water was darker than even the armor of the one who rode it and its slowly seemed to take the shape that vaguely looked like that of a horse. What was perhaps most striking however was the blood red eyes of the creature that seemed to glow with the same malice seen in Rider's own.

The waves created by their approach seemed to grow stronger with every second, to the point where the currents it created looked as though they could rival even those created by the whirlpool that protected the area's leyline. However no matter how turbulent it seemed, Rider seemed completely unaffected, almost as if what he was travelling on was comparable to that of a clear, open field.

Thanks to his mount it did not take long for Rider to cross the vast expanse of water that separated him from his prey and in but a few seconds his mount, a horse made of water as black as the night's sky, leapt out of the Thames and onto the waterfront, however it did not stop there. Without pause or hesitation, the black horse continued on its path, one which set it on a direct course to Archer's location.

As Rider had made his approach on the river, the enemy Servant's presence had become clearer and clearer to him and so he had steered his mount as necessary in order to make for a beeline straight towards his opponent. However whilst on the river he simply had a vague idea of where his opponent was, now that he was here he could tell exactly where the source of that damned sound was coming from and so...

There!

A young man singing as though he were busy performing in some sort of theater rather than partaking in a battlefield. Honestly, did this fool think that skulking around these boxes would be enough to hide him from Rider? He had hunted down far greater targets in much worse conditions, so such a paltry attempt was actually kind of insulting for Rider. No matter, he would soon educate this fool on the error of his ways.

More nimbly than one would expect from such a creature, Rider's mount navigated itself towards Archer's position. As they drew nearer, Rider raised his blade and a pulse of power began to emanate from it. The temperature around Rider seemed to drop to sub-zero and a sheet of frost now coated his blade, to the point where it seemed the blade itself was now made of ice.

In the next moment Rider brought down his blade and the chill wind began to pick up and howl due to the force exerted by Rider. The paltry containers dotting the area could not hope to stop such a strike, let alone slow it down. Just being near the blade seemed to freeze the metal and slowly crack simply due to the pressure exerted by the swing of the blade. Indeed the purpose behind the blow was to utterly destroy anything and everything that it came into contact with, servant or otherwise...

And that cleaving blade was now heading straight for Archer!

Your song is at an end, Coward.

Wise Up!

**Dranes** · March 25th, 2018, 11:09 AM

Gendou Matou
15th of December, 2004
Night (Phase 1-3)

A yawn escaped Gendou, it had been a boring night after all but then again that wasn't a problem in itself. Maybe they had gone out too early or perhaps the Association was dragging their heels on the issue... well with all their internal conflicts that would be nice. The position of the three families wasn't the greatest, it was more like a non-aggression pact than an alliance, meaning coordination and communication were an exception not a norm. In hindsight it felt like quite the blunder, they were still just three families from unknown parts of the world against a behemoth. The distrust seemed like an additional hurdle that they were putting on themselves against a foe that wasn't about to give them any handicaps.

All in all, it was a problem.

But he'd figure it out in the morning, after all tomorrow was another day.

And then he heard it.

The birds circling around let out something akin to a cry or perhaps a song? It didn't matter what it sounded like, after all the most important part to it was immediately apparent: It was not natural. Was it a Servant? Was it a Master? Was it some magus dog picking a fight? Was it all of the above? These were the thoughts that went through Gendou's mind as he shifted his body and performed a feat he thought impossible: moving at an even more sluggish pace than usual.

Another involuntary yawn escaped him but it felt different this time, the song itself infiltrating his system and forcing his body to shut down. His eyes glanced to the two drunkards, their faces said it all: peaceful and content. What a nice trick they had but to call it a song was something else, to Gendou it felt more like a virus, a foreign invader that had infiltrated his body and was forcing his system to act against his will. The pleasant 'sound' was just a ploy, a means to hide the inherent danger of such an ability.

Originally Posted by Rider of White

Whether you stay here to claim this place, flee if you fear the prospect of the enemy's Master ambushing you while I do battle or even take a nap because of this insufferable song, I do not care. Simply ensure that you do not die, it would be bothersome for me were that to happen.

I'll keep you informed then of anything weird around here, well if I don't take a nap but I'm sure you can keep me excited enough to stop that from happening, can't you?

As another induced yawn came from him, he turned before Rider even made a move, reaching for the usual little device he always kept with him.

A simple cellphone.

Raggedly he moved forward before finally slumping behind a tree and clicking a button and closing his eyes, as if accepting his fate.

I got my eyes on ya and the rest of this place. So give me a good show and get rid of the wailing while you're at it.

Even as the eyes of Gendou Matou remained closed, another set opened.

Two. Six. Twelve. Twenty. Fourty.

More and more.

Five hundred. One Thousand. Twenty Thousand.

Even as the slumped Matou lied still, he could see it.

Kill 'em, Rider.

Wise-up!

**Leftovers** · March 25th, 2018, 04:14 PM

Berserker of Blue
16th of December, 2004
Night (Phase 1-3)

London was unlike any city Berserker had ever seen. Its vastness could not be comprehended by walking its streets for hours but only alluded to by the realisation that the distance covered in that time was only within a borough among the many boroughs that made up the whole that was the city. She had gotten a taste of it from the window of Alexandra Chimeragenos' office looking out to the sprawling cityscape stretching farther than the horizon, and walking it now only compounded that sense of awe at the size of the city, and of man's accomplishment in building it.

Her guide, Freogan Deofolgeat, led the way as naturally as he would navigate the streets of his hometown; and it could very well be that it was, if the way he named seemingly every landmark the two had gone by with a matter-of-fact tone that implied long familiarity with it was an indication. His demeanour too had changed. Tension bled out of his posture and his scowl relaxed into neutrality the moment he set foot outside the Department, and even a hint of satisfaction after he had introduced his lips to some earthly vices. The man did not just seem more at ease: he gave the impression of a man who belonged there. The busy streets, the thick crowds, and the loud sideways of the metropolitan capital of Britain were his natural environment. If that was the first time Berserker laid eyes upon him she could never have associated him with the academic circles of the Clock Tower and the lordly company of Chimeragenos, and that went all the more to show that Freogan was not one for superficial impressions.

And so they walked on, biding time with the pretense of familiarising the Servant with the environment, Freogan leading the way seemingly alone and Berserker trailing him diligently in her immaterial form. The tall man did not seem to mind talking about this or that to the air at all, not even noticing the weird looks he occassionally received, and in no time at all Berserker had been given more information such as the location of the best pie and mash in Fulham or the craft brewery rumoured to be sponsored by Sponheim Abbey - whatever that was - than she could conceivably have any use for.

However, interspersed between those soliloquies were questions addressed to the hidden Servant, concealed in the flow of his words and the city's hubbub so that she almost missed them herself. Answering him proved equally difficult while the throngs of people that swarmed the storefronts and walkways showed no signs of breaking up. Despite that she appreciated the secrecy that Freogan practised even now. That he could keep his focus while putting up the front of an aimless wanderer among the myriads of tourists meant he understood the gravity of the situation perfectly.

The distant strike of a clock brought an end to their meandering, and the duo turned their strides west, putting the lights and clamour of normality at their backs with a song and a spring to their step as they took the narrow streets and alleys leading to the great river and the curtain of a secret war about to be drawn.

"Well, there's the bloody spot of land."

Clink. Freogan's empty beer can hit the asphalt once before disappearing in the heap of black garbage bags and other rubbish piled around an overflowing bin. The side street in which they stood was a far cry from the avenues in the heart of London. A couple of parked cars, an abandoned office building and a fence beset by disrepair composed the modern version of the scarcely travelled alley that was ubiquitous throughout human history since the first cities were built. The street terminated at a turn, with a brick wall all that separated it from the precipice of the river Thames. Beyond that, at a distance that felt both far and a stone's throw away, was Isleworth Ait - a fragment of the past enduring in the modern era.

As if to demonstrate, Freogan picked up a loose rock from the asphalt, hefted it in his palm, and threw it towards the isle. A splash met the ears of the pair from within the inky waters of the river. As though having vented his listlessness in that action, the man gave a little sigh and shook his brightly-maned head.

"Urgh, anyway, that there's our target. Looks like nothing's cocked up around here yet, but you never know, so..."

His words trailed off and into the night air met by no response, and after a moment of thought he started walking again, motioning vaguely with his hand as he went. Holding her peace, the spectral Servant dutifully followed him along the riverside, past the subdued crowds of the late hour, and into the building in which their mission on the first night of the Holy Grail War would commence.

If she had to be honest, Berserker was not terribly certain about this plan. But then again, orders were orders, and who was she to question their wisdom?

"Make yourself visible already. It feels like I'm chatting up empty air. Not to mention ain't no way you can enjoy that pint without proper stomach for it to fill."

Freogan's easy grin clashed horribly with the image of the man she had been first introduced with. Three pints were all it took to shake loose the magus' dourness and reveal the affable bloke wrapped up tightly underneath. Berserker took a long look at the man excitedly patting the bench next to him, then turned away to head back into the building and through the door to the ladies' bathroom.

She would go along with this, but dematerialising in full view of the mundane folk she would avoid if she could. Had her Master forgotten to include in her dossiers about the Holy Grail War the footnote mentioning the elimination of witnesses, or did it slip Freogan's mind somewhere between Camden and Hounslow?

Honestly, that's a bit too much.

Thankfully no one had to die for Berserker to assume material form once more. Looking at her image in the bathroom mirror, another issue was immediately apparent. Even without materialising the more ornamental elements of her attire, Berserker without her long ribbons and gold jewellery was still a woman clothed in flowing robes that be more fit for - gods, that nickname immediately came to mind - a wedding, and still look peculiar even then. Taking her incredibly long blue hair and bare feet into consideration she would be taken by the people of 21st century London for some kind of eccentric with a absurd fashion sense at best, or a lunatic at worst. Either way, there would be no avoiding the stares of from every single person in the building.

Orders were orders, but she had to try hard not to fidget. Making her way from the bathroom back to the table in the veranda could be considered the first battle Servant Berserker fought that night.

The grin with which Freogan greeted her was too wide to be mistaken for a drunk's pleasant haze. Irritating.

"Well sir, I do hope I have amused you," Berserker said with as dry a tone as she could muster, before plopping down on the bench with a humph, arms crossed and pointedly looking away from him. Beyond the veranda, the lights of the city painted streaks in the oily surface of the water otherwise hardly distinguishable against the glare of urban luminescence. The dark bulk of Isleworth Ait was not so much a presence but a dark void in that canvas. Beyond it in the far distance, a light blinked on and off from the top of the King's Observatory on the far bank of the Thames.

And there they stood, magus and Servant, sticking out like sore thumbs, having some fish and chips on a veranda overlooking one of the focal points of conflict in the Holy Grail War, as if they had decided to forgo partaking in the promised violence of the first night for a date and a spectacle.

Well, it couldn't be helped. Berserker picked up a chip from her plate with her fingers, bit into it experimentally, and found it quite delicious.　　

**Kuroyuki** · March 25th, 2018, 06:11 PM

Akechi Tohsaka
15th of December, 2004
Royal Opera House
Night (Phase 1-3)
paste
In contrast to my family, I was never really comfortable on the finer side of society. I couldn't say I liked the Royal Opera House at all. Despite the building being burnt down twice, they not only rebuilt a new one on top of it but made each one more decadent than the last. I saw an elaborate chandelier, finely painted pastel wall, and miscellaneous expensive busts and pots to decorate the area. It was... excessive especially since this wasn't where the Opera was going to take place. 7

Even the cafeteria where I found my family was too nice for my tastes. There was a full-fledged bar, multiple finely dressed tables with proper etiquette silverware sets, and the overabundance of waiters. I would have been fine if this was a separate restaurant but this was purposely built into the Royal Opera House. D

Originally Posted by Tokiomi

“I’m glad that you were able to join us. I hope all went well?”

"Good evening, Father. Yes, everything is going well. My new 'friend' is getting used to London as we speak." g82

Originally Posted by Rin

“It has been a while, Akechi-nee. How have you been?”

"Yes, it has been a while Rin. I'm doing fine, but I'm going to have my work cut out for me in these upcoming days. Especially since I'm going to have to try down one of our family's old 'penpals.' But I'm sure you aren't here to hear me complain. What about you Rin?" r

I'm sure Rin was doing excellently, but I did it just so I could talk to them at least one more time. She always was the Crown Jewel of the family. Smart, confident, and casually popular in social groups without any real effort on her part.

Originally Posted by Sakura

“Its good to see you again, Onee-san.”

Patiently waiting after Rin is Sakura, my youngest sister. If I was to be the behind the scenes support and Rin was the protagonist, then Sakura deuteragonist. Despite not being as smart or as talented as Rin, Sakura was a rising Archery Club member who was well-liked by her classmates.

“Nice to see you too Sakura. How has the Archery Club been recently?” 65

I take a quick moment to look as if I’m in deep thought before smiling “innocently”.

“Now that I think it… Both of my cute imoutos are fairly popular at their school… So Rin, Sakura have there any interesting boys for you two recently?”

**zikari8** · March 25th, 2018, 09:44 PM

Mori Shiori
15th of December, 2004
Central London – The Ritz
Afternoon (Phase 1-2)

As Shiori briefly discussed her knowledge of their enemies, she came to a quick conclusion.

“I’m sorry to say Lancer, but I don’t have very much information on our enemies.”

Despite this damning report, she took a calm last sip of her tea before winking slyly at her Servant.

“So, how about we go gather some?”

Mori Shiori
15th of December, 2004
Afternoon (Phase 1-3)

It was a quiet night. That was Shiori’s impression as she strolled through the dirty streets of London. Her impression was not based on the actual noise of the streets or the amount of people bustling through it, but the peace with which she sensed. Unlike the bright palace of decadence where she had just come from, these streets were comparatively dark, cold, and open. It made her feel at ease. Her feet bounced off the foreign pavement lightly, her heart as free as the northern winds. Still wearing the violet dress she had put on earlier, clutching her purse loosely in her hand folded in front of her, she could've been mistaken for a lively Londoner enjoying the midnight winds. But she was in no position to relax. Every one of her six senses was focused ahead, like a lion circling its prey. Although her poise was natural and her pace slow, she walked with intense purpose.

She was trailing someone. Like an old black-and-white movie detective tailing a shady crook or a broken-hearted schoolgirl tracing the steps of her upperclassman crush with knife in hand as he went on a weekend retreat with the bimbo from class C, the young Master moved from shadow to shadow, chasing after her target. Nearby, Lancer was doing the same. While wandering the streets, the two of them, Master and Servant, were able to detect their target’s presence and had begun their hunt, undetected on their end. The identity of their target was unknown and out of sight. For all they knew, they could possibly be tailing their own ally, but they kept moving with caution and stealth. Shiori, in particular, was expertly careful in her approach. She remained just far enough so that they themselves wouldn’t be detected. It was clear that this was a skill that she had practiced before.

Lancer, hold on. They’ve stopped moving.

Although her Servant probably noticed first, Shiori relayed the information to Lancer. The presence they were shadowing had finally stopped moving. After a few moments to confirm they weren’t turning around, she nodded at her partner.

Let’s move in and see who we’re dealing with. We can make our move after we get visual confirmation.

With confirmation from the high-and-mighty herself, Shiori made her move. Moving alongside the moonlit outline of a building, she closed in on the presence. The dark waters of the river and the unfamiliar sounds of night owls greeted her. An inaudible gulp resounded through her body. Somewhat nervous yet composed all the same, she peered from the shadows for visual confirmation. No sudden movements; no killing intent. A presence so miniscule one could be looking right at her and not realize she was standing there. Just a girl standing casually from afar, blankly gazing at the riverside. In that way, she confirmed the identity of their prey.

A light grey brick building with a wooden veranda.

A blonde man leaning on a pub table, sticking out like a sore thumb.

A woman in flowing robes eating fries, even more conspicuous.

And so, just as Freogan and Berserker carefully watched the island, another pair of eyes was observing their every move from the shadows, unknown and unnoticed.

**I3uster** · March 26th, 2018, 10:23 AM

Lancer of White
15th of December, 2004
Night (Phase 1-3)

This certainly felt better.

The bustling and hustling of the inner city had, with a few exceptions of royal grandeur, made for a rather unpleasant look to it all. It was a general rule for rabble to benefit of the proximity to royalty after all, and even in these times where the empire that had once so confidently ruled had been reduced to an island nation, this rule was yet to be violated.

Compared to that this little part of the town seemed more to her tastes. Not that she would reject Buckingham Palace if offered of course.

The situation she found herself in meant the enjoyment derived from the casual atmosphere had to be tragically fleeting. This was after all not a stroll like their earlier Central London touring, this was a task that had to be fulfilled. The goal was setting up a favorable outcome in this war.

Her magically adept Master had told her that this area was of interest to their kind. A proactive participant in this war would try their best to take this location, and the less proactive ones would try to at least keep a good eye on it. While valor was a virtue she respected deeply, in this case it would have been foolish for them to take the proactive role however.

Instead, it was their task to remain vigilant for anybody seeking to take point here.

A casual walk was all this had to be to any outsider. A girl and her slightly older friend on their way home, not exactly an irregular situation at this time of the night. She had yet to find more fitting clothes so her tracksuit might have attracted a bit more looks than it previously had in transit and the less picturesque parts of King's Cross, but soon she learned that the inhabitants of this part of town would leave her right alone as long as she adopted the right kind of scowl.

Master, this is a worker's attire is it not? They look at me like I am about to rob them of their belongings. The first thing tomorrow will be a more fitting one. And the acquisition of more money. I refuse to show myself to my allies like this.

Splendor had its place, and its main use was that of inviting respect. Contrary to the admiration in her followers eyes, the judgemental stares reminded her of her youth in ways she would rather avoid thinking about. But it made for an interference free walk at the least.

Just as her thoughts threatened to drift to potential clothing options she had gleamed from the passerbys earlier in Central London, she felt it.

They're here.

Now her eyes had been set on Shiori. The girl's body had grown tense upon this revelation...she tried her best to remain inconspicuous but her sweeping gaze had been noticeable enough. It was not something that could easily been picked up. There had to have been training for this, and yet from her short but intense study of the girls movements she could tell. First, she hesitated, after all there was no need to make the girl nervous, but advice was best delivered timely. She simply had to speak up.

Not as sloppy as I expected but you must take care to not become too tense. If you already realized the mundanity of this area is our cloak it would be unwise to stare daggers at them.

They trailed them. Deliberately, not too slow, not too fast and most importantly not directly closing in on their location. Just enough to not arouse suspicion.

But if she had noticed it would not be too long before the other Servant would too. She was not in possession of anything that particularly predisposed her towards reconnaissance after all, the one thing working in their favor was initiative and a touch of fate.

Lancer, hold on. They’ve stopped moving.

It was time. The girl moved herself in position and Lancer followed as every good friend would, naturally as if it had been a path they had walked together a hundred times.

There was not a lot to see for the girl she assumed. The distance was too far, it was dark and the light moonshine did much less to illuminate the streets. A bit of electrical lighting tried its best but the only thing it really did for Lancer was offend her sense of aesthetics. To have gaslight replaced with these cold and sterile bulbs did not do this otherwise quite beautiful district any favors.

However, her sight far exceeded the capabilities of the girl, and as such she decided it was her turn. Two people staring had been a bit much otherwise.

"If you allow me..."

Beyond her sight there was something else she could rely on after all. A bit of a random chance was involved in this, but luck had favored them twice today, so it would make sense to try her best this time.

For the second time in her return on this plane Lancer accessed memories she never possessed.

Wiseup!

**canaki** · March 26th, 2018, 03:38 PM

Archer of Blue
16th of December, 2004
East London - Creekmouth
Night (Phase 1-3)

Archer had never been much of a planner in life. Plans never do work quite the way he wants them to, and the unexpected fallout of failed plans tends to be worse than simply improvising on the go. … Not that those worked as well as he hoped, either.
He’d always been unluckier than any of his comrades.
"We're on our way. Just hold on."
He may not have luck. But he had a master who trusted his ability, just like how--……

He certainly had hoped his song would be enough to put the bystanders to sleep, and if the master of the unknown servant was nearby, perhaps retreat to safety… but for a knight in armor to materialize with a drawn sword? This was a not the response he had anticipated.

“Master, the civilians are no longer conscious. I could not identify any magi. However, as the enemy servant materialized immediately, they may have seen a knight appearing with a sword in his hand.”
He knew how bodies of water would not be an obstacle for all, but still, the sight of a horse of water emerging from the unnaturally dark surface of the raging river was rather novel to him.
“The enemy has a steed of water, crossing the river, charging towards my direction. … I may be possibly facing a Rider. I will keep this servant occupied, I trust your expertise in combat will be enough to deal with any hidden masters, should they emerge upon your arrival.”
Rider, as he tentatively dubbed the servant for now, was halfway across the river. At this rate, he’d need to focus on dealing with the swordsman, rather than worry about witnesses. The horse and its rider bounded up the disorganized mountain of containers without losing any speed, as expected of a Heroic Spirit and his noble steed.
A sword for a sword, then. Archer dismissed his bow, as a sword in its scabbard materialized at his waist.

Originally Posted by Rider

And that cleaving blade was now heading straight for Archer!

As Rider’s sword was swung towards him, Archer finally stopped singing.
As soon as he took a swift turn and a skidding dash to the side, his own sword met Rider’s frozen sword. With a backwards slide to kill the momentum, in one fluid motion, he managed to fling off the impact of the attack.

“Lo behold, a mounted knight striking at a man on foot! Would you consider this a worthy battle, if you were to defeat me in such a manner? Does it satisfy you to chase a knight around? I would much rather prefer to chase fair maidens, if I were you!”

Archer let out a mocking laugh.
Truth be told, the blow would have been difficult to turn away, had he not had experience of sparring with other warriors who dealt heavier blows than himself. This was no opponent he could take as a joke. This was a top rate combatant, equal to the best warriors he’d fought in life.
He knew how to fight those with greater brute force than himself. He knew how to be patient. He did not have luck, but he had his wit.

Such was why he concentrated on every movement, every breath this mounted knight took. He could not afford to make mistakes. The next blow would be no less easy to swat away.
The time for stealth was gone. Cocking his head in the best impression of arrogance he knew, with a savage smirk upon his face, Archer loudly scoffed at the man as he took a leap back, towards the shadow of another one of the numerous steel boxes. Deeper into the labyrinth.

“I did not expect to be disappointed so greatly by my first opponent of this Holy Grail War. A simpleton only capable of charging madly at whatever enemy he finds? You may as well be a boar. I’ve fought mightier beasts than you!”

Wise up

**Verg Avesta** · March 26th, 2018, 07:29 PM

Freogan Deofolgeat
16th of December, 2004
Night (Phase 1-3)

Originally Posted by Berserker

"Well sir, I do hope I have amused you."

"No, no, pleasure's all mine, love. Don't let it get to you."

Freogan's grin widened even though he did his best to keep it from doing so. Indeed, even though it was his first time he did realize just how rare it must have been to see a Servant, not to mention Berserker, acting awkwardly. The blue-haired woman had shuffled out of the bathroom where she had materialized like she was trying her best not to make an eye-contact with any other patrons of the bar... and that might have been for the better. While Berserker did gather stares because of her rather outlandish appearance, one clearly not fit for the pub (and much less to accompany someone as ragged looking as Freogan!), there was other reason as well.

In short, Berserker was a rather striking woman.

Servant or not, lunatic or not, just about every man in this place must have realized that.

"... Huh."

And so did Freogan too, apparently, as after chuckling for a second or two he suddenly took a good look at his situation and slight red rose to his cheeks, after which he avoided his gaze from the woman. If Lord Chimeragenos was the type of contact he usually had with the fairer sex, it was a small wonder that he hadn't clamped his mouth shut completely. Instead of an impassive, emotionless giant of a magus, he was now face-to-face with someone far more lively... and judging by how his hand slightly shook as he grabbed his pint and downed it in one go (and ordered another), this didn't happen often. Having found some courage from the drink, he looked back at Berserker only to not exactly know where to direct his gaze. Dressed like that, she was rather... overwhelming sight.

Indeed, Freogan ended up staring slightly off of Berserker, over her right shoulder.

"Uh, I mean, bloody hell, don't let it bother you, bridesmaid," Freogan finally found his voice again, though he stumbled through some low-key curses while he was at it. "Ain't no one gonna laugh at you. Hell, just look around, the toffs here are all arse-over-tits about you. And even if they were making fun of you, I'd kick their bloody faces in. Ain't no wanker gonna make fun of my friends, especially if they're ladies. Those twats get the business-end of the boot."

Throwing some of the chips into his mouth, Freogan enjoyed the salty, greasy taste of the potatoes in his mouth before joining them with the grilled fish. He was pretty particular when it came food, as had become abundantly clear, and it looked like this meal passed his requirements. Almost childlike grin of pure satisfaction rose to his face... before it was quickly wiped off by the second pint he took a swig from, followed by a loud burp he let bellow out in the night.

"Ergh, sorry 'bout that, love. Ain't exactly good with manners," he added with slight shame in his eyes.

Etiquette clearly wasn't Freogan's strong point. He smoked at the table, he sometimes scratched various places best left unscratched in polite company and he managed to devour over half of the food before realizing what he had done and ordering another just for Berserker. Indeed, there was probably not another woman that Freogan would have been more polar opposite in a city-wide radius than Berserker. Someone like the Vladivostok Wonder he momentarily saw, dressed in gaudy tracksuit that was probably some Adidas-knockoff, would have have been more up his alley. Though mere sight of a tracksuit made him mutter "Bloody chavs ruining London's image" and disregard the woman completely.

"Anyways, uh... I might be being bloody rude again, or something, but I do have to say one thing," Freogan started, eyeing the brown stout in his pint like it had been the most interesting thing in the world. "Whatever your class as Servant, I'm glad to have you on board this Crazy Train to Kent. Might be just my first impressions, but you're a good gal, have a good head on your shoulders, and seem to be good in a scuffle. So outta all the possibilities, I gotta say I'm dead chuffed to be working with you. So............ thanks."

Then, with his cheeks once again familiarly red, Freogan turned his attention to the new basket of food that had arrived for them and stuffed his face to hide his embarrassment. Once he had his easily flustered personality back in order, he looked Berserker in the eyes and raised his pint, offering it for a toast. Or rather, offered it to be slammed together in a manner more befitting to a pair of battle brothers than a man who looked like him and a woman who looked like her.

"Anyways! Densawlığıñız üşin, wes þū hal, whatever," Freogan grinned widely at Berserker. "In other words: Cheers!"

**Zagrin** · March 27th, 2018, 06:03 PM

Rider (White)
15th of December, 2004
Night (Phase 1-3)

His sword had been deflected by the enemy servant's own, an event that Rider had truthfully not expected. It spoke of both of the quality of the make of the blade, undoubtedly a Noble Phantasm as any lesser weapon would have shattered due to the sheer force of the blow, as well as the martial prowess of the one who wielded it. Perhaps the servant he had met was a Saber? It would seem that his opponent was far more capable of a fighter than Rider had initially given him credit for, perhaps he would have to reassess...

Originally Posted by Unknown Servant

“Lo behold, a mounted knight striking at a man on foot! Would you consider this a worthy battle, if you were to defeat me in such a manner? Does it satisfy you to chase a knight around? I would much rather prefer to chase fair maidens, if I were you!”

No, it seems his first impression wasn't too far off the mark after all. Though he had a modicum of skill when it came to wielding a blade, his thoughts on what would be considered to be a "worthy battle" not only sounded like nonsense to Rider, but it also oozed with hypocrisy. He deplored how Rider's actions could be considered dishonorable in a duel such as theirs, and yet he was all too willing to attempt to put an end to their battle before it had even begun with that song of his.

Rider could only sigh and shake his head at Archer's quip.

"Though I commend you at being able to survive the strike of my blade, it is clear to me that you have not seen many a conflict. After all, if you had you would not deign to utter such ignorant tripe that insults those who have lived and died on the battlefield."

Originally Posted by Coward

“I did not expect to be disappointed so greatly by my first opponent of this Holy Grail War. A simpleton only capable of charging madly at whatever enemy he finds? You may as well be a boar. I’ve fought mightier beasts than you!”

Rider did not move to chase after the man as he leapt away, and the merry insults that had accompanied his leave did little to stoke the cold rage that had been building within Rider, rather his words rang even more hollow than before and thus were not even worthy of his grievance. Rather all he did was sit there, atop his mount, and watch as the man fled deeper into the maze of steel containers.

"It is just as I thought..."

"You are a coward."

With that proclamation the area around Rider began to subtly shift and turn, and with it appeared the 'treasure' that followed him no matter where he went, a constant now and ever after. As his body flared with prana, that spectacle that unfolded could only be described as "otherwordly," even to a being such as a Servant. No matter the Hero, no matter the Legend, it was all inconsequential to the Black King. And so that which crystallized his beliefs and his way of living was brought forth.

This man was no Legend.

He was no Hero.

He was no Equal.

Thus he would be treated with same respect given to all below Rider's gaze, one that thousands of warriors before him had seen and thousands more would see.

Another Hunt.

And in that moment they appeared.

"It is a shame, I had hoped for more from one who had been recognized by the World as a Heroic Spirit, yet in the end you are just like the rest of them."

Spectral hounds, pale as ghosts, but as corporeal as either Rider or his foe appeared. Each and every one had their eyes trained on the young man who had dared to flee their master's presence, eager to tear him limb from limb. They only waited for the command to be given.

"And so you will fall like the rest of them. Farewell, nameless spirit, the leyline shall be mine."

And with those words they were unleashed. Several charge straight at their prey, several eager to rip into his limbs while another went for his throat. Four others jumped upon the steel containers above their target, two of them attempting to circle around their next victim and strike at him from his blind spots. The last two made a mad dash attempting to completely circle around and cut-off any chance of escape their quarry may have before finally pouncing upon their victim. If the young man thought himself some sort of songbird, then he was terribly mistaken for at this moment he was more akin to a duck about to butchered and delivered to a huntsman as some form of trophy.

However Rider would not take part in observing this Hunt, there were other matters to attend to, and so he descended from the pillar of steel and traversed back upon the river, he was clear of his enemy's view though there was no doubt as to his destination.

Wise up!

**Sei** · March 27th, 2018, 07:17 PM

Aila Einzbern
16th of December, 2004
Night (Phase 1-3)

I listen to the words of Lapis; however, admittedly, I don't pay her much of mind. While I can't say that it doesn't pain me in some fashion to bring my beloved aid discomfort, her objections are only a minor concern.

This atmosphere fascinates me. I have little experience with the world outside of my room. Much less with the world of technology. However, to think that the ground itself can give rise to such an oppressive feeling. A space in which supernatural phenomena are unwelcome. A space in which the modern world has gathered its own academic marvels and given them power through their impact on human history. In a way, it's almost like the antithesis to we mages. Although, one could also argue that science and magecraft are merely two divergent paths in the pursuit of knowledge. Perhaps... Perhaps that's what draws me here.

As I stand before the entrance in thought, I glance around the surrounding area.

The gears in my head are steadily turning, but my heart remains still. Night has come and the war has begun. Right now I can not be Aila. Right now I have to be the Master chosen by the Einzbern family. The little homunculus who exist only to bring her creators victory. Nothing else matters. Joy and personal gain are unnecessary. All I do here must be for the glory of the Einzberns. All I do here must be for the glory of the Einzberns...

"My deepest apologies, Lapis," I conclude my rudimentary surveillance with a deep breath. Calming myself, I step forward towards the museum, "Just try to bear with it a bit. And stay alert. Remember, we're trying to see just how proactive the enemy is."

I say this not only to remind my companions, but myself as well. I'm here taking a risk. Placing myself in view of an unknown is not something I generally care to do; however, risks are more often than not necessary. We need information. And while it would be a big relief not to encounter any threats tonight, it'd be remiss of me to return home empty handed.

In the meantime, I'll occupy myself with other ventures.

“W...Who goes there?”

I shield my eye from the guard's flashlight. Initially, I had been contemplating how I should respond if any staff members approached us. I never bothered looking up the museum's operation hours, but I'm sure we're here outside of them. Naturally, getting inside would be a bit of a problem. But upon observation, I think I can try my hand at resolving this without anyone getting hurt.

"U-Uhm... H-hello there..." I cower a bit under the light. Staggering my speech and lowering my voice in response to the man's 'authority', "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle anyone. I-It's just that I'm visiting this country and I wanted to see this museum while sight-seeing. I... I wouldn't happen to be too late to see the exhibits... Would I?"

I recall what it feels like to be oblivious. I remember how one should sound when intimidated and I empathize with this man's situation. Understanding all the elements that should be at play, I apply it all and try my hand at crafting a lie. With any luck, we can resolve this peacefully.

**Ayakashi** · March 27th, 2018, 10:16 PM

Earlier that day....

--- Caster of White ---

It truly is a strange blend of hesitance and eagerness. The constant clash of these two opposing traits, flickering on and off like a flame in the dark… there was a certain preciousness to this sight, one that Caster found rather endearing.

Without warning, but still in the gentlest of manners, Caster reaches for Aila’s downcast head and pats it.
Perhaps that it simply was part of her reflexive nature as a Mother, one that took care of many children.

“Have no worries Aila, though you may have misgivings about your physique, I believe that there is beauty in it -- everyone has a beauty of their own. I am nothing more than an ideal molded by a God, so there is little need for you to compare your appearance to me.”

Putting her hands around Aila’s cheeks, she raises the young girl’s face so that once more the two may look at each other eye to eye, as equals. Indeed, the downcast look, the avoidance of locking stares, it reminded Caster of her days as a ruler, where no one other than her husband and those close to her would dare to look at her in the eye, so much was her subjects awe and respect for her.

Here, though, in this time, in this life, there was no need for such things.

“Look up and smile, for though you may be a young girl, a young woman... even the youngest child can possess an inkling of wisdom, worth more than a kingdom’s treasures. That wisdom, I am certain that we will both need it in our trials to come.”

Gently letting go of Aila, Caster accepts Aila’s gift.

“Ah, thank you. I shall cherish this.”

‘Alice in Wonderland’ was written on the old and worn leather cover. Upon seeing this offering, Caster seemed quite happy. Was it because she knew of the book’s contents, or was it some other reason? Maybe a bit of both -- the greatest discovery here, was that such a gift helped her understand Aila more, or rather, reinforce her impression that she had had of the girl.

One who loved to read, not because litterature fascinated them, but because litterature was their window unto a world very different from the reality they were trapped in…

To dream, to soar, to be free, that is what litterature represented to Aila, most likely.

At least that was Caster’s impression of her Master. She could perhaps not relate to this love of literature, but certainly she could appreciate it, for in the end this longing for freedom could be said to be a shared desire of the pair.

“I would give you a gift in return, but I suppose that this will have to wait a bit.”

Nodding, Caster did a little gesture with her hand, as if conjuring something. In an instant, reality responded by shrouding the book in light and making it disappear. A Space-time distortion? This was most likely some fancy way to access her own personal storage of sorts -- she was a thaumaturge from a very ancient time, one should expect the likes of her to be able to pull off such simple tricks.

“Well, Aila, I suppose that I will let you guide me for now. What plans do you have in store for us?”

--- Aila Einzbern ---

What what what!? What is all this!?

She touched my face. What did she do with my book? What exactly is she trying to say? Also what else can she do? Was that magic? Was it thaumaturgy? Or is it some kind of grand ritual that skirts the lines of magic? I mean, it’s not like stuff like that doesn’t exist, but boy does that seem like something that would be super useful for modern magecraft. I wonder if she’d teach me how it’s done. Or maybe I should just try to see if I can examine her spiritual vessel at some point. Might be faster…

But all that is besides the point.

Though Caster’s royal standing and upbringing definitely shows, it seems as though she is more than willing to cooperate with me. And while I don’t feel like I’m the most proper of people, I believe what Caster is trying to state is that I should disregard any prior notions and set out as equals.

Awkward introductions are exchanged. A basic understanding of each other’s personalities obtained. Once all is said and done, Caster looks at me expectantly and asks for our next course of action. Assuming she has no pressing motives of her own, I suppose I should come up with a plan with that in mind.

“Hmm. Well I suppose the best course of action would be to first scope out the area. This isn’t my home turf and it would be good for me to obtain a basic understanding of the immediate area. Furthermore, it would also provide and opportunity to see how the enemy responds. Granted, it’s a bit risky. Still, I’d like to see if our opponents are opportunists. Surely there are a few that would not turn a blind eye to a Master walking around at night.”

It’s a basic strategy, but probably the best one I can come up with on my own. While it’s true that I could send out familiars or the like to scout in my place, the opponent is less likely to respond unless they are tantalized with the appropriate bait.

“In the meantime, I also hear that there is a museum nearby. If at all possible, I’d like to venture over there and see if there is anything that catches my eye. With any luck, it might be possible to obtain several boons at once. Though this is just wishful thinking.”

------

Caster of White
15th of December, 2004
Night (Phase 1-3)

And so she found herself in this rather interesting situation. For Caster to be stepping unto a place like this, a physical embodiment of the world's rejection of the likes of her... this was either a very daring plan, a display of utmost confidence, or perhaps, a plain and simple show of stupidity. Before they even stood at the gates of this place, Caster could already feel while approaching the oppressive aura surrounding the Science Museum, its anti-magic nature wrapping itself around the Servant like a python constricting their prey, squeezing out all of their strength. Yet in the face of such adversity, when surrounded by darkness, it would only be natural that being the Sun herself, she would shine the strongest -- keeping her head high and shrugging off the air of anti-mystery, Caster wordlessly kept company to her Master.

Yet, is this really the right thing to do?

In truth, there were many more places where they could have gone to look for a fight. Using her magic, Caster could have easily set a 'trap' to attract opportunist enemies, or even, made better use of the time expanded here securing nearby Leylines instead; yes, while she was setting up her Temple back at Aila's base, Caster had indeed begun mapping the surroundings, and while doing so, she had already noticed the presence of multiple leylines nearby...

... but that is how Caster would have approached this situation back then, as a methodical and pragmatic leader; the fact stands that the woman who was and the one that is right now, are different. Rather than lead, she now follows, doing her best to fulfil her partner's wish and ambition, rather than bringing about the realisation of her own -- yet one must not mistake her for a sheep following a Shepard... rather she is the Shepard, gently accompanying the sheep as it strays into dangerous territories.

For who is the best teacher, other than experience itself?

As the scene with the guard unfolds, Caster remains in spirit form, eyeing Aila, Lapis and Ushabti to see if her intervention was required. It would be very easy for her resolve this issue, but Caster is confident that Aila will be able to handle it. Rather, there is something else which Caster feels that she needs to address, and that is the fact that they came here blind. Such a conundrum should be sorted out as quickly as possible. Yes, the fact that it even happened already could be thought of as quite embarrassing.

Distancing herself momentarily as to not interrupt Aila's interactions with the guard, making sure that no one can see her, Caster takes form for the first time since she left Aila's base of operations, the Servant leaving her spiritual form as to be able to cast spells. Caster utters words in a language that was never spoken upon British soil, and in fact, one that the World most likely hasn't heard in a very, very long time:

"

As caster opens her palm, a mystical light forms out of nowhere and begins weaving into various shapes, shapes that are the instilled with life upon reaching completion.

What are they? It should be quite obvious:

Any self-respecting magus should be able to conjure familiars of their own, though those that Caster created are on a level mages of the present cannot even fathom of reaching -- their quality, their construction, the finesse with which they are woven together, it wouldn't be inaccurate to claim that only a God could achieve such levels of craftsmanship.

As they are given life, these familiars, in the form of mysterious birds seemingly formed of sunlight, lose their glow as to adjust to the nighttime environment. Caster wordlessly nods, and this single action seems enough to guide the birds to their next task -- gather information, and keep a good watch of the area.

With all of that done, as seamlessly as she had left, Caster returns to Aila's side in Spirit Form as to not disturb the guard.

Caster of White - Stat Screen

Thread: Fate/Reclamation (IC)

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