Michael Blackmore & Archer
16th of December, 2004
East London - Creekmouth
Night (Phase 1-3)
It took the Archer of Blue and his Master a few minutes of searching, but their prudence was well rewarded. A bit further away from the dingy dock, you managed to find a relatively unperturbed garage, with the same annoying-looking cat mascot illustrating its surface. A few moments later, Michael had forced open the locked door with a sharp crack, causing the broken pieces of the heavy padlock holding the door to clatter down on the ground.
Behind the door, you could see your bounty.
A fair number of various riverside boats were stored in the small garage, nigh all of them in a far better condition than the swan-headed pedalo outside. They probably lacked space inside the garage and simply their most weary boat in the docks, hoping to get rid of it when spring came. In the end, you decided to grab the white rowboat near the edge of the garage. It was the only boat not prone to mechanical failures and most likely used to bail any of the other boats out of trouble, if needed. Perfect for your purposes.
Carrying the boat to the riverside and dropping it in the water took you another five minutes.
The closer you got to the Whirpool, the more you could feel the merciless motion of the waves rock your tiny rowboat. Whatever Archer’s eyes had spotted before seemed to be gone, but the massive river Thames was no less peaceful for it. True to its name, it felt as if the water around you was flowing down the sink, dragging you and your boat along with its currents. Even Michael, who was nowhere close to a Lecturer in his magecraft finesse, could sense the buildup of raw Mana in the air. The motes of gold flickering through the air were a testament to its mindboggling concentration. The very fact that you could start making it out with purely your normal vision sent chills down the back of both the Servant and his Master.
Now the only question was how to get close enough to its heart to tame this torrent of magical energy.
Aila & Caster
16th of December, 2004
West London - Neasden Temple
Night (Phase 1-3)
The Neasden Temple was a massive complex you could make out from afar.
Built from what looked like pearl-white marble, its domed tops, intricate detailing, and grand arcs reminded you of Angkor Wat or Akshardham, albeit at a smaller scale. Nevertheless, it wasn’t something you had expected to see in England and felt like as if someone had just taken a chunk of India and dropped it in the middle of London. You felt no trace of the masked figure you had caught a glimpse of at the Museum. Caster’s spells had seemingly done their job admirably, although based on what Aila had read Assassin-class Servants, it would be unlikely that you would detect his presence even if Caster’s spells had been seen through.
Hiding was a specialty of the Assassin class, after all.
As the four of you took a brief breather near one of the picturesque white benches near the Temple, Caster’s eyes fell on the elaborate complex itself. Even from this range, you could sense the lattice of protective wards and Boundary Fields that surrounded the building. Both the age and the foundation that underpinned their existence was something completely incompatible with Caster’s magecraft, or even the more modern variant practiced by her Master, Aila. Nevertheless, based on the general flow of Mana through the structure, they felt more indirect than direct in nature. Meant to hide, rather than directly affect the targets within its range.
Nevertheless, both the number and weight behind the wards was significant. Not significant enough to match Caster, of course, but significant enough to make dealing with them not an instant nor a subtle task. After all, Neasden was one of the few places in London, along with Westminster Cathedral, that did not directly fall under the Magic Associations directive. Which always meant that one had to prepare for the worst.
“I think we should be safe for the time being. I… I don't think milady Caster’s magecraft was seen through.”
Lapis was standing a bit behind Aila, clearly ready to flank her homunculi Master should it prove to be necessary. Leaving the surroundings of the Museum had clearly been beneficial to the silver-haired butler, as her complexion had much improved. Her voice still remained slightly shaky, though whether it was due to any remnants of discomfort remaining over from the Museum or due to the impression the sheer scale of Caster’s magecraft had left on the Einzbern homunculi remained unclear. As for your other compatriot… Ushabti’s eyes were glued to the temple complex in front of you and an inscrutable look passed over his face.
“An oasis in the middle of a desert. But for whom?”
Akechi Tohsaka
15th of December, 2004
Royal Opera House
Night (Phase 1-3)
Matou Zouken let out a raspy chuckle, one that reminded you of crackling parchment on a dry summer day.
“Khahahah… This one is for sure yours, Tokiomi. Nice and polite on the surface, yet ready to sink a dagger in my back the moment my back is turned. Nagato must be rolling around in his grave at the sight of what his family has become.”
Next to her, Akechi could hear Rin grinding her teeth. It was clear that the wrinkled old man was grinding the young Tohsaka heir’s gears in all the wrong ways. In fact, you could already see a flicker of reflective light escape from between her closed fingers. No doubt she had already armed herself during the initial confusion that had accompanied the manifestation of the strange Boundary Field. Sakura for her part was looking over the situation with a slight hint of concern on her face, but even in her case, you could feel a slight tension running through her body, almost as if preparing for the inevitable confrontation that would follow.
If Tokiomi had been frazzled by the Matou patriarch’s words, none of it was visible on his face. He simply gave the older man a slight nod in greeting and flashed him a rather genial smirk.
“Now now, I would rather you didn’t provoke my daughters like that, Zouken. We are supposed to be a “team”, after all.”
Another raspy chuckle was the only response given by the old Matou.
“Enough. This meaningless banter is merely a waste of time.”
The imposing Einzbern man, for his part, simply dismissed the banter between the other two men as an irrelevancy. It was clear that Jubstacheit von Einzbern was a man who found very little pleasure in casual conversation. Or perhaps it was something that had been left out of his design in the first place? While you had met members of the Einzbern family before, the elusive head of the family never really left their residence in Germany. Nevertheless, you had always assumed that the family head would be… well, not a homunculus, at the very least. Yet the man in front of you felt no more human than the elegant doll-looking women behind him. In a clearly different way, yes, but still similar. After all, a dishwasher and a refrigerator were designed to fulfill different roles, but they were, fundamentally, still machines.
“You are correct, of course. No doubt if we do not go out, she will come to us.”
With those words, Tokiomi started heading upwards through the opera hall, towards the large double doors that led back into the main lobby which you had left behind mere twenty minutes ago. The homunculi servants, along with the three Tohsaka sisters, followed them in silence. No one else in the theater moved even a muscle, their physical forms seemingly transfixed in space and time in a perpetual state of stasis.
The large vestibule was devoid of people, save for the one standing in the middle of it. The large double doors leading to the entry hall had seemingly vanished, leaving behind only ripped hinges and a splintered frame.
“I will have you fully explain this mess that you have created.”
The air around the Vice-Director of the Clock Tower could only be described as electric. While her Magic Circuits had clearly not yet been opened, the dominating aura excluded by her sheer presence overwhelmed nearly everyone in the room. Her tone was sharp and seemingly brooked no opposition, even though she was ostensibly facing people who had openly rebelled against the Association.
Zouken was the first to respond.
“What is there to explain, girlie? The Association left us with no other choice. Since you had no intention of returning the Grail to us, no matter the number of our requests..”
Lorelei interjected with seemingly nary a concern for the older man’s words.
“That “
toy” of yours was placed under a Sealing Designation by the. You have no more right to it. It is under the safekeeping of the Association now.”
“Hmh… an amusing joke if I have ever heard one.”
“The Holy Grail is
ours, Barthomeloi. We will not leave it in the hands of infants and charlatans.”
Lorelei recoiled almost as if she had been slapped across the face. An emotion that could only be described as righteous fury, blazed in her normally dismissive auburn eyes.
“Infants and charlatans? You
dare?!”
“I will not be mocked by a member of second-rate failure of a family that could not even keep a hold of their True Magic, nevermind by their leftover toys.“
“Drag as much refuse with you as you want,
Einzbern. Rabid mutts who bare their teeth towards their betters are to be put down, not rewarded.”
Tokiomi, for his part, made a placating gesture, though those who knew him could clearly tell he was bristling inside, based on how tightly his fist grasped the ruby head of the ornate walking stick in his hands. It was clear that having the Tohsaka family merely dismissed as mere “refuse” of the Einzberns by the Vice-Director of the Clock Tower rankled him more than he wanted to admit.
“Now now, there is still time to come to a reas….”
“I refuse. I did not come here to barter or negotiate with you.”
Without even bothering to hear out the ruby-clad Tohsaka patriarch, the Vice Director coldly cut into his speech. It was clear that the imperious woman had no desire to have any negotiations with the men in front of him. For a brief moment, confusion flickered on Tokiomi’s face. The meeting had not gone quite as he had foreseen it in his mind's eye. It had been a simple lack of experience that had allowed things to devolve to this point. Perhaps if Tokiomi had met the Vice-Director face to face during his tenure as a lecturer, things would have had played out differently, but as things were, this was the only possible outcome at this point. After all, diplomacy required a fundamental respect to exist between the two parties. If not respect in the opposing side’s status, then at least in their power.
The Vice-Director of the Clock Tower had neither for the people in front of her.
A sharp snap echoed throughout the vestibule.
Figures draped in white started to pour in through the shattered opening where the large double doors used to stand. Their white uniforms were in almost stark contrast of the light-blue haze that seemed to fill the entire theatre. For Magi, who more often than not prided themselves on individuality, wearing any type of uniform was often out of the question. Which, incidentally, was why the Clock Tower possessed no official uniform, despite being ostensibly a teaching organization. Which meant….
“The Chelon Canticle Brigade…”
As the magi behind her poured into the room, the Magic Circuits of the Barthomeloi head snapped open, causing a gust of air to ripple throughout the room. While Aozaki Aoko, the True Magician who held the colored title of Blue, was renown for possessing Circuits that caused audible sound while activated, this was something else altogether. Causing a physical effect on the environment simply by passing magical energy through one’s body was a trait typically associated with spirits of higher orders, not human magi!
“By the powers vested in me as the Vice-Director of the Clock Tower, I, Bartomeloi Lorelei, hereby issue a
Order from the Administration
Director's Edict
with an indefinite duration.”
“The Einzbern, Matou, and Tohsaka families are to be eradicated and their Crests retrieved. Based on further examination, they will then either be destroyed or placed under a Sealing Designation, pending a decision by the Kalion Observatory.”
“Is that understood?”
The voices that echoed back at the Vice-Director spoke in almost perfect unison.
“Yes, Marshal!”
It took only an instant for everything to devolve into utter pandemonium as the first spell, one of many to be cast during that night, roared into existence.
Originally Posted by Archer
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