Fate/Reclamation (IC)

[arkturus]

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

Assassin’s mornings started early.

Long before Akechi woke up, the silent killer had already taken stock of their resources, including the resources in the kitchen, of course. The amount of pig meat stocked in the freezer made her stomach lurch but there was a selection of other high-quality animal flesh that interested her.

The proper management and use of one's assets were an important condition for winning any conflict, one’s home is no different. She scoured every inch of the apartment complex, committing each and every detail to memory: the placement of the furniture, the location of squeaky floorboards, the distance from one entrance to another, how well sound traveled from room to room, how the air flowed throughout the entire building, what items could be used as impromptu weaponry.

But while Assassin worked, she could not help but feel a hint of excitement. She had never had a permanent residence of her own before becoming a member of the Hashashin, and even then the mountain castle she lived in was quite spartan as it was a place to train. From a young age, she always marveled at the estates of wealthy merchants, the palaces of princes, and even the hovels of lowly labors. A house always had a personal touch of those that inhabited it. It was a part of their lives, their identities. By examining someone’s living space you could come to understand them, what they ate, how they lived, and what habits they had. It was a form of people-watching that she never got tired of.

That didn’t prevent her from having objections about her master’s life. Co-habitation with a man who was not your father or your brother or your husband was extremely haram! The scent of that man was in too many places to be considered proper for a friendly relationship between fiancees, especially the bedroom. It wasn’t that Assassin was against the romance, there was just a proper order to it! Despite how she conducted herself during work, the trained killer was still a maiden at heart. Assassin couldn’t help but be curious about this pseudo-married life that her master had but she shook these frivolous thoughts from her head. She had to focus on her patrol. Girltalk could wait until later.


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


The sun had already risen by the time Akechi stirred.

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

“gOoD mORnInG, mAsTER.” Assassin dropped from somewhere above the table and perched herself on a chair.

“I wiLL TrY tHiS ‘riCe, tURkEy BacON, aND sCRaMbLeD eGGs’. hOwEvEr, I aM LOw oN mAnA aFTer YEsTeRdAY. I mAY nEEd sOMeTHinG mORe...sUBstanTiaL.”

[Leftovers]

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

Few things could sober someone up better than the full weight of Alexandra Chimeragenos's attention bearing down on them. So it was even for those who transcended humanity; the apprehension of being observed by some unseen force, primordial instincts involuntarily sending an onrush of cold clarity through one's mind even as it set their spine straight and rigid.

For once, it was a mercy - a reprieve Berserker gladly took, else she would continue stumbling over unfamiliar words that she never planned to say. Although, strangely enough, while she thought of her Master's formality as the proper state of affairs in contrast to the predicaments that Freogan Deofolgeat seemed to naturally create, she realised with some surprise that her experience in the Holy Grail War had so far been sorely lacking in propriety - at least that which she had imagined. It seemed that the ones mired in customs and protocols were not the warriors but, as they had always been, the rulers still.

Those who were hindered from action exercised their strength through those who bore their will and carried it out unrestrainedly. That, at least, was the eternal duty of servants.

“Seek and destroy, Deofolgeat, Berserker."

Those were the words she had awaited from the moment she was summoned, with anticipation and with dread. For all the questions that the first night has raised, the promise of bloodshed was no longer one of them.

Seek and destroy. Terminate the enemy.

Go mad.

"I understand, Master."

Her voice was strained. Prickles raced across her skin at the thought. Her hand clutched at a weapon that was not there.

Such an effect that those words had. It was a fact that she had known from the moment of her summoning, an unavoidable conclusion that haunted her thoughts ever since, but hearing it spoken even in her Master's dispassionate tone - or perhaps more so because of this cold, factual statement - evoked a sense of an indefinite premonition coalescing into certainty.

If last night had defied expectations, the truth was now being established beyond any doubt. Her Master's command marked the true beginning of the war that she had been summoned to fight.

The stage where Servants truly belonged. At the precipice of death, ushering others beyond.

Against that, her resolve...

An endless sea, an endless quest, an endless lament.

...it must not waver.

She remembered that shore. She felt the burden of aeons on her soul. That was why she could not fail. For if she weighed the suffering of others against her single wish she would always come short, and yet the keenest pain was but a drop in an ocean that girded the earth and mirrored the firmament and ran from the roots of the world to the farthest ends of life. Where even time itself dissolves into its waters. Where all is forgotten and all forgets.

All but her. Deep in its depths she remembered and so remained herself. A shade of boundless sorrow that could never cross over - to death, or to the real world.

And yet she had. And she would do anything to keep this miracle within her grasp. Even if she had to become a demon that selfishly trampled on the lives of countless others in the process.

All that and more she pondered, her morose expression terribly at odds with her previous mood. An outsider might have said that there finally was a fitting expression for a Servant, but such a person was not to be found in the office of Lord Chimeragenos. Instead, Berserker's contemplation was interrupted by a man's simple concern about a familiar and the needs that it did not even have in the first place.

"...I mean, I know you don't gotta eat, but you looked pretty bloody happy last night with that burger, and that's the type of face that keeps us cooks living."

Freogan was more alike his Lord that he probably realised. While Alexandra Chimeragenos could instil sobriety at any moment with a single look, the man perfectly countered with the ability to tease out a smile even in the gravest circumstances.

Even if the hand that shook his own was light, it was impossible not to smile back.

"Dedicated in all your pursuits, I see. A woman could get used to this treatment."

Still, she did not reach for the food. Eating before one's master was hardly proper manners.

[Kuroyuki]

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

Thankfully due to our connection as Master and Servant, I always had a rough idea of where Assassin was. So when she suddenly appeared from above and suddenly sat down in a chair behind me while I made the finishing touches to scrambled eggs. Okay, the eggs are clumpy but soft. I pulled out some chopped chives and add a little black pepper.

“gOoD mORnInG, mAsTER. I wiLL TrY tHiS ‘riCe, tURkEy BacON, aND sCRaMbLeD eGGs’. hOwEvEr, I aM LOw oN mAnA aFTer YEsTeRdAY. I mAY nEEd sOMeTHinG mORe...sUBstanTiaL.”

With that said, I made placed half of the eggs on one plate and the remaining half on the other. Each plate had a few slices of turkey bacon and a small serving of rice already on it. The additional servings were in the oven or the rice cooker to keep them warm. A perfectly good breakfast to start out with all things considered. Of course, it won't replenish a significant amount of prana for Assassin.

"While I don't mind giving you some more mana Assassin... I don't mind if you gather some from the local populace as long as it is discrete. However, given your class and skillset... It might be more beneficial to replenish off of the lower ranks of the Clock Tower. Each has its benefits and downsides, and I'll leave the choice up to you."

I start munching on my turkey bacon. While similar, I still can't help but feel that turkey bacon is not as good as the original. Thankfully, I didn't have as much of an issue with my other breakfast foods. The only addition to those was a slight addition of cheddar cheese to my eggs. Afterward, I watched for Assassin's reaction to my food.

[Mellon]

Gendou Matou & Rider of White
16th of December, 2004
The House in Red - Residence of the Matou Family
Morning (Phase 2-1)

"I am Rider of the White Faction, my name... there's no need to bother saying what does not need to be said, after all with that display of wisdom of yours, I have no doubt you have already discerned who I am, no?"

“Why?” The raven-haired Servant of the Sword let out a deep and husky chuckle. “Do you truly think such a thing holds that much value, huntsman? I simply know the role you are forced to play in this aimless cycle of eternity, nothing more. Your correct position in the eyes of the World, so to say.”

“Your name is meaningless in that context. As is your will and desire for closure, Rider. A tool has a role. No woodsman will despair about the moral dilemmas of the ax that they swing.”

“The rolling tides or the waxing moon will never truly comprehend the desires of man, after all.”

Despite her, some might say biting, words, Saber’s tone itself held no malice. Rather it was simply an acknowledgment of a fact on her part. Something she either truly believed in her heart or ultimately absolutely knew to be true.

“But you are already aware of that, am I right?”

"After all, I did bring wine and it's never too early for wine."

“Hahah… a hedonist and a demon I may be but even one such as I have standards, you know.” A wry smile danced on the ruby-eyed Servant’s face as her attention shifted from the white-haired Rider to Gendou. “Excessive consumption is a worthwhile endeavor, of course, but my own tastes veer a bit more expensive than that, I’m afraid.”

The mysterious Servant turned around and headed back into the building, clearly expecting the pair outside to follow her inside. The first thing that caught your eye inside was the interior design. The furniture and the internal furnishings for that matter were clearly of quite high quality. Mahogany desks, beautiful carpets, thick engraved classical chairs - the full lot. It wasn’t quite on the level of Einzbern residences, but considering that you were talking about the Matous here, it must have cost quite a significant amount of the family “funds”. Yet despite the relatively beautiful (and new, from the looks of it) furniture, the entire building had that type of dryness in the air that you could only associate with old buildings. Really really old buildings. It almost reminded you of a library, in a way.

As you approached the living room you could make out the tell-tale sounds of a playing TV. And as you entered it, it quickly became apparent why there was a scent of dry parchment in the air. One of the walls of the room was taken up by what must have been one of the largest single bookshelves you had seen in your entire life. What was it, approximately five or so meters tall? From the looks of it, a large portion of the family library in Fuyuki had been transported here, though you could also make out a number of decidedly less “magical” tomes tucked amidst everything else. A strange guitar-like instrument was lying in the corner, while the half-open drinks globe made it quite clear why Saber had been so hesitant in accepting Gendou’s offer. Most of it was filled with different types of disgustingly overpriced alcohol, from the looks of it. A number of books lay about in the living room as well, seemingly haphazardly discarded mid-read, while the TV was playing a bizarre TV show called... Big Brother?

All in all, it was a bit of a bizarre scene, honestly.

“Kariya tried to predict some of my… interests.” Saber gave a slight shrug as she walked over to a glass cupboard, pulling out some glasses from within. “I must admit, I usually enjoy such luxuries far more if I claim them for myself, but his efforts were earnest enough to amuse me, at least.”

“Would you like some? I recommend the brandy. It’s quite good, as is the whiskey.“ True to her words, Saber was seemingly already pouring out some brandy for herself, while her other hand moved towards one of the books on the countertop. “Oh, and should you wish to speak to Kariya, he is upstairs in the bedroom.”

[Dranes]

Gendou Matou
16th of December, 2004
The House in Red - Residence of the Matou Family
Morning (Phase 2-1)

Well, this is surprising.

That was the only thought Gendou had as he followed on, taking in the picturesque splendor of the interior. It seemed that for his good cousin that no price was too high, no corners cut and if he didn't know any better this was more akin to flaunting one's wealth than practicality. Something that didn't fit the image he had of Kariya Matou, he seemed more of the down-to-earth type... while the Servant in front of him seemed to be anything but that. The type who gets bored easily, fulfills all of their vices and is more interested in their own amusement.

“Hahah… a hedonist and a demon I may be but even one such as I have standards, you know. Excessive consumption is a worthwhile endeavor, of course, but my own tastes veer a bit more expensive than that, I’m afraid.”

But at least they seemed to be honest about it, something he could appreciate.

"It breaks my heart to have my gift rejected like this.," An exaggerated sigh and a slump of the shoulders follows those words, "I'll need to think of something else for our gracious hosts."

A mixture of rarity and quality: that was the type of drink to be served, something he had yet to experience if he was truthful.

Not that it would stop him from making use of it if he had the chance.

Ah, but even so the mess that was the main room was something else. Drinks, instrument, television

“Kariya tried to predict some of my… interests. I must admit, I usually enjoy such luxuries far more if I claim them for myself, but his efforts were earnest enough to amuse me, at least.”

"My, my, he spared no expense did he? With what I remembered he never came across as someone to let loose, maybe he can learn something from you."

A critique? No, more akin to an observation really. Kariya always was a bit of a stick in the mud, a nice one but still.

Maybe this Grail War will open him up to the wonders of the world, after all there's a good chance they could all die by the end of it.

And that's just no fun.

“Would you like some? I recommend the brandy. It’s quite good, as is the whiskey. Oh, and should you wish to speak to Kariya, he is upstairs in the bedroom.”

"Hah, I'll take you up on that offer."

Chance! A chance to enjoy some truly good liquor and with enjoyable company.

"After last night's party and now this chilly weather, a drink to warm me up is exactly what I need."

And with due haste he did just that. Brandy? Whisky? Wine? By the end of his visit he would sample a bit of everything and then some, it was only right to enjoy this and that and then some if it was being offered so freely. The globe was filled with different glasses, from the classic to the new-age look that so many began using with the unnecessary ornamentation on the glass. Ah, but his mind had already been made up since the offer left ______'s lips, some brandy was exactly what he was feeling for at the moment.

"Still, for someone to freely indulge in their desires, lacking inhibitions.," Like the liquor, Gendou's words flowed freely, "How can I put this? Honesty like that is a refreshing change of pace."

Filling his glass, he had to enjoy the sight of it, the smell. It was doubtful he'd get too many chances to enjoy this kind of stuff whether he survived this war or not.

"Rather than a Demon, I think it's quite Human."

With those words he had to take a sip... though for raff like him, there'd be no justice in trying to describe it. He would have to settle for enjoying it.

"Hmmm... I think I like you."

And with that Gendou gave a turn, drink still in hand as he looked to the stairs.

"Still, I'm bound to my role in all this. Business before pleasure and all that and I am here to give ol' Kari a visit. I hope you haven't already spoiled who it is."

He began a stride before stopping, as if remembering something important.

"Reality Television though? While it's amusing, it gets somewhat predictable and worse yet: staged."

A shake of the head.

"I'll need to find you something more amusing if you're going to be here a while."

And with that he continued on, the situation already gave him an idea of what he was going to find up in the bedroom.

[Kirby]

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

A blur of white, like a bullet soaring to its target. Here, the raging flood. A blow of unbridled strength and calamity. And yet—

He raises an arm. Almost unconsciously. Not aiming to meet head on, but…

—the bullet had diverted from its path.

A test. The principles of soft martial arts. A powerful blow, yes, but one with nothing else behind it, deliberately so. Power, and power alone. An assessment to demonstrate that principle, the diversion of force. By throwing everything behind that blow, I held back. A real opponent wouldn’t be so generous.

But, it’s still a start.

The force of the blow alone kicked up a storm of dust in its wake, the shockwave of which drawing trails in the sand at our feet. We hold our positions. The dust settles. His expression revealed. One of shock, of confusion, as if not believing himself that he had deflected the blow. My arm’s still raised past his head, its fist just a hair’s breadth from his ear. I smile.

“So you do learn, after all.”

I keep my fist hanging by his ear, our faces inches apart. “Wanna hear a story?”

“In the Age of the Gods, a great flood threatened the earth. It consumed all in its path, drowned the hills and mountains, and threatened the very heavens itself. A calamity that had even the gods crying out for salvation. The first Sage-King of Xia was tasked with stopping such a thing, where the dams and floodbanks and the gods’ own Soil of Genesis had failed. And that brings us back to our riddle.” I grin. “Power, in and of itself, can be a weakness. You don’t need to stop a raging flood.”

“You divert its flow.”

I fall silent at that, to let the words sink in. “Looks like you’re startin’ to get that. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have blocked that blow just now.”

Bop.

“But not enough to block this!” I had tapped him on the forehead, before he can react or recover. I smile again at his look of confusion and bewilderment, as I already turn to leave the garden.

“Class dismissed! Let’s grab go some food.”

[Reiu]

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

Bop.

“?!”

“Class dismissed! Let’s grab go some food.”


“Ah…right. Yes.” Arwyn felt a faint blush rise to his cheeks, without being entirely certain of why.

Was it embarrassment? It was most likely embarrassment. He fidgeted several times with his shirt sleeve for no reason in particular and nodded in agreement, somewhat distractedly.


“Thank you…Saber. It was certainly edifying.” He paused, choosing his next words carefully with a less formal, shyly soft tone.
“I would also like to hear more of your stories, if the chance arises that you feel like doing so again.”

……Though, truth be told, what he would like was not quite the sort she had told, but those more of her own.

—Tell me about you, Saber—

But he could not quite bring himself to say so, instead averting his eyes somewhat too quickly, a sheepish expression clear on his face.


Food. Yes, food. Sustenance was certainly necessary after the ordeals of the day and the night previous. As hesitant as Arwyn was to press further upon the hospitality of their hostess, there was also little else choice, given that he could not take his leave quite just yet. There were some matters, of sorts, that he wanted to discuss with Illya, or at least have her input on.

And he still had to thank her for providing the training grounds they had just been using, after all. He glanced around the domed garden, a sense of wonder revisiting him again as he cast his gaze on the bountiful, winter-defying flowers.

Slowly, still slightly wincing, he approached the souvenir flag-wielding maidservant who had been waiting seated on the marbled bench.

"Leysritt,” he called tentatively.


“Would it be possible to ask for some sustenance for myself and Saber, I wonder…?
It would be appreciated if you could also kindly inform me when Illya wakes…Illyasviel, that is. I wish to speak with her.”


But it would not do to do so in the disarrayed state he was in. He was hardly presentable right now, to say the least, what with having just finished the exertions he did.

Clothes askew, hair mussed with perspiration, and his lungs still gulping air more eagerly than usual; not to mention the ruined sleeve of the shirt.

—That part, though, he supposed he would have to make do as best he could for now.

Arwyn could already picture quite clearly the face the maidservant Sella would make, upon seeing—…then again, he had a suspicion that it wouldn’t be much different even if he had been perfectly immaculate.

He was glad it was not her but Leysritt to whom he would have to make this request, at least.


“…I would be much obliged if there is a place I could, ah, tidy myself up before that.
…………t-thank you.”


Arwyn could only hope he didn’t sound nearly as self-conscious as he felt.

[Mellon]

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

“My schedule is as flexible as can be due to the circumstances, I’m free whenever they request, barring an emergency of some sort.”

“Brilliant.”

The androgynous lecturer snapped his fingers in an overblown and cheerful gesture, seemingly not even bothered by the, quite significant, amounts of snow falling on his suited figure. The smile on his face really held no duplicitousness, but… Erika could definitely make out a certain naive ignorance from his behavior and interaction with her. Clueless would perhaps be the best way to put it, though something like this wasn’t really rare in the upper echelons of the Clock Tower. In essence, a person who had easily cruised through every challenge set before him and, due to this, could not comprehend the difficulties set before others.

A prestigious “genius” who couldn’t understand why “everyone else” didn’t just succeed as easily as he did.

Meritocracy at its “finest”.

“Well then, shall we?” Vasilisa turned his head towards the street corner, where Erika could make out a parked black and very expensive looking Bentley Continental R. “I wasn’t sure if you were available at the moment, but if you are free at the moment, then I should be able to make the necessary arrangements while we are heading towards Guildhall.”

The blond flashed Erika a smile.

Erika’s “free whenever they request” had clearly been interpreted through the lens of “you are being requested right now”, it would seem.



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

As the clash between the Master and the Servant came to an end, the pair turned their attention towards Leysritt, the rather vacant-looking maid sitting on the bench a bit further away from the pair. While the “teaching” session was going on, you could see her waving a small white souvenir flag with the words “Do your best!” written on it with ruby, and surprisingly elegant, cursive letters. As the fight came to an end though, the white-haired maid, slowly, but extremely carefully, turned over the other side of the flag which read…

…”Better luck next time!”...?

Wait. That had to have been written there beforehand so… was she cheering Arwyn while at the same time having absolutely no faith in his abilities?

“Would it be possible to ask for some sustenance for myself and Saber, I wonder…?”

“Mmh…. Breakfast… But no doggie bowl here...”

The girl’s eyes clouded over for a second, almost as if she was troubled by some… Wait, wait, wait, you were pretty sure that was not the real issue here. A doggie bowl? Was she going to pull out some Pedigree or Purina dog food to feed to Arwyn? Really? How much of a pet did she think he was?! What next, chew toys? A leash?

Letting out a quiet sigh, the maid clearly came to a decision of some sort, irrespective of Arwyn’s opinions.

“Dining hall… even though not for puppies… no choice.”

“And Ilya sleeping… “not a morning person”... very cranky when woken.”

“…I would be much obliged if there is a place I could, ah, tidy myself up before that.”

The maid in white gave a small nod.

“Bathroom... I’ll show you.” Leysritt turned her eyes towards Saber for a moment. “But not sword-lady… its “men's time” right now. Later… after breakfast…”

[Reiu]

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

“I understand. Please lead the way.”

It was a figure of speech, of course. If he was to be honest, there were a number of things that he didn’t quite fully comprehend.

He tried not to dwell too much on the seeming confusion of his humanity, for one.
The possibility briefly dawned on him if this was some manner of extended metaphor. Surely she can’t possibly stay convinced for so long that he was a…a dog?

All the same—while perhaps he shouldn’t have been, Arwyn had been strangely touched by Leysritt’s clearly handmade flag, even now seeing the reverse side.

“I…I do appreciate your support, Leysritt,” he said gingerly, with an abashed smile. “It means something to me.”
Even as he spoke, he realized his words sounded excruciatingly reminiscent of the sort of condescending platitude as would be issued by perhaps a denizen of Downing Street.

…Even so, the sentiment he wished to express was of heartfelt sincerity.

He took the maidservant’s words to mean that Illya wouldn’t be waking for sometime. All the better then, he supposed, to take this time in the meanwhile to prepare.

Arwyn turned to Saber once more. “I will try not to take too long,” he reassured her.

“Perhaps you can go to the dining hall ahead of me?”

---

And so it was, one thing leading to another, that Arwyn found himself led down splendid marble corridors to an equally palatial bathroom door.
He said his parting to Leysritt, watching her retreat completely out of sight before he opened the door.

…For no particular reason, of course.

He cleared his throat self-consciously as he opens the door.

There seemed to be a change of clothes laid out for him. It was with some relief and sheepish gratitude that he observed the familiar sight of a shirt, suit trousers, and…was that also a tie and waistcoat that had been included? Beside it, was what looked to be a…a tailcoat.

Somewhat amused, Arwyn recalled the dated style of clothing that had been preferred by both Illyasviel and the maids. When in Rome, do as the Romans do, he supposed.

“…”

Arwyn let out an exhale of breath as he set his mind to the task at hand, methodically removing the battered articles of clothing. Only now, with the adrenaline beginning to leave his body, did the full brunt of his body’s state bring its reckoning on him.

……And what a reckoning it was, in all the grades of physical pain he had ever known and some entirely new, from sharp stinging to dull throbbing and bone-weary aching.

He stifled a wince, even though there was no one there to hear it.

Bracing himself for the inevitable painful twinges that would accompany the wash, Arwyn did his best to empty his mind, and approached the bath.

[Katie]

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

With a sigh, I take one look at my clothing and figure it’s good enough. They don’t expect too much from an assistant lecturer anyway, I hope. At the bare minimum I’d like to look presentable, and this, well, I don’t want to put this off and risk things getting worse. Better to get it down with than think about how these slimy rats are scheming.

“I’m coming, just one moment.” It’s an offhand reply, maybe slightly flippant, but that’s not on my mind as I whistle and old, reliable Sawamura comes out of who knows where to arrive at my feet.

“Alright, furball,” I say in a commanding tone, “Tell Natsuki she can get breakfast herself when she wakes up. And that I’m away for business. Tell her to watch over Caster, ASAP. You can get half of the bacon on the leftmost plate.”

Sawamura-san barks, if that could be called a bark. I still have no idea what to call that noise. Nevertheless… I think that’s a look of understanding in that monstrosity’s eyes, so I’ll say my work is done. He scampers off, so there’s just one thing left.

Caster, I say through the mental link, please don’t get into too much trouble. I’m being dragged out of here against my own will, but, on the off chance something terrible happens, I’ll do a request via Command Seal. That’ll be all.

And with that, I follow this idiot with a silver spoon in his mouth to what will undoubtedly be one of the worst meetings in my life.

[Sunny]

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

Tucking her package underneath her arm, Caster set out on her morning errand. The dashing young man's coat had been tied around what seemed to be a number of sizable objects, until it resembled a large instrument case held underneath one of her arms. She stepped out into the snow with a spring in her step and a cheerful, impish grin. The woman seemed likely to break out into a hum at any moment as she swung her legs in a playful march.

Caster, please don’t get into too much trouble. I’m being dragged out of here against my own will, but, on the off chance something terrible happens, I’ll do a request via Command Seal. That’ll be all.

Pausing in her steps for a moment, Caster glanced back at the building. She stared at it with a soft expression for a few seconds, then returned the mental equivalent of a 'Hmpf' through the link. She looked away at the snow-covered street, bit her lip, and then added reluctantly. Fine. I'll be stopping off at the Thames for a bit.

Without so much as a further goodbye or her usual launch into enthusiastic explanations of her plans, she went back to her march through the streets of London. She hadn't really had much time to see the city last night, the weather and the hour being what it was, so this was really her first chance to take in the city at its best. She was eager to see firsthand how much had changed, how it sounded when it was active and alive.

For the first few streets, she craned her neck left, then right, recording everything she could into her memory, busily distracting herself with a mental map of the neighborhood around the house. The locations of waste bins. The number of footsteps in the snow leaving or coming from each building. How many cats or dogs or birds she saw in windows, or on their way to somewhere warmer. Everything she could pay attention to instead, she did, marching along, her head constantly moving and her eyes constantly darting. It wasn't until the fifth street that she slowed down, stopping at the curb and looking around. No one was nearby and there were no vehicles passing by at that moment. Caster nodded to herself, pausing.

"....rrrrah!!" Still holding the package, she growled as loud as she could, and with a fierce start kicked at the accumulated snow like a rambunctious child, her boot sweeping up a great cloud of snow sufficient to entirely clear the pavement where it had passed.

Foolish! Annoying! Entirely unfair!
I shouldn't have even bothered, Erika!
If you die alone, and he knows nothing, it isn't any of my concern!
Foolish and annoying and unfair and... and mean!

The girl watched the snow settle with an angry expression, her eyes blazing. She glared at each snowflake drifting down, as if willing them to melt on the spot. She was already cold, even in the coat, and while it didn't bother her in the least in her current form it still made her joints a bit stiff. She flexed her hands, one finger at a time, still growling under her breath, her angry pouting directed at no one.

I really shouldn't have, I suppose.
I thought I had a better read on you, Miss Erika.
I didn't think you the sort to actually throw in with someone like that,
much less to count yourself actively among their number. I thought you'd...
Well, I did think you'd want him to know, as well. I just thought, well...
I was wrong again, ahaha...

Caster's shoulders slumped. She shouldn't have been surprised, really. When it came to other people, when it came down to actually conforming her behavior and her inclinations to another's, she had always accumulated more demerits than approving check marks. That still hadn't changed, despite her best efforts to seem a bit cuter and more charming yesterday. She had gotten complacent, thought that someone who actually summoned her would have understood that she...

Well, no matter. She couldn't let herself stay angry at herself and at Erika accomplishing nothing. If she had to be angry, she'd rather burn it off doing something active. Squeezing the package under her arms, she exhaled a sharp breath. I'll be a Servant for a bit longer today and attend to this errand, and then I'll be left to my own devices while Miss Erika's busy. She can't complain if I look into her ex-boyfriend on my own time. Maybe he can explain why it didn't work out. ...Other than her being mean, of course.

A small nod to herself. With a goal, however misguided, the woman immediately switched gears, all cheerful energy and enthusiasm again, and her march resumed with even more forced momentum. Armed with a package and her own misconceptions, Caster set out.

[Bloble]

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

The sight of a man of Michael Blackmore's size fumbling with the tiny keys of a clunky cell-phone wouldn't have looked out of place in the background of a sketch comedy show. To him it was merely the unfortunate reality of being just slightly too large for the world around him. He nodded hello to the businessman that stopped nearby, and finally hit the correct key, causing his cellular phone to emit a soothing dial tone. Michael held the phone to his ear with one hand and glanced at his watch with the other.

It was unfortunate timing, that someone else should arrive at the bus stop and limit his vocabulary. He would watch for strange movements (though through the Enforcer-standard paranoia, Michael truly doubted the man was a threat), and make an excuse to leave in forty seconds.

Just then, there was a click, and the magic of modern technology connected Michael to his colleague.

".....Is that you, Blackmore? Wait, don't bother answering that. I swear you are the only one who would use this method to contact me at this hour.”

"Good morning! Terribly sorry for rude awakening." Michael replied, not at all perturbed. While some might have been put off by Bazett's chilly demeanor, he had long-since grown used to it. "I've been rather presumptuous, it seems, to assume you would be up and about like myself at this time of day." To punctuate the implication of exercise he stood, stretching his limbs slowly and eyeing the sidewalk back, less out of habit and more to clearly foreshadow his inevitable departure from the bus stop.

He shifted the phone to the side a bit to address the businessman, but kept it close enough for his voice to be heard as if at a distance. "Good luck with the bus, sir. I'll be taking my chances on foot," he said.

Michael would speak more freely when not around someone else. Until then, he stuck to code, slipping in an update on his situation among the small talk.

"It certainly is a morning to sleep in if I've ever seen one. London's all but frozen solid. Why, when Erika and I took a walk past the Thames last night it was as flowing quite nicely, but now it's all blocked up."

Michael set off, walking rather than jogging back to the apartment (and more importantly, the car), speaking idly and keeping a casual eye out for further people. As soon as he was out of earshot, he sent a mental message to Archer to have his surroundings watched, and resumed the conversation.

"It was a rather tiring excursion, with a bit of unwelcome excitement, so I'm thinking of taking it easy today, perhaps getting a nice warm drink from the usual place and making small-talk with the regulars. From the sound of it, your night was just as eventful? If so, you and your tenant are welcome to join us there."

[Mellon]

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

To call the room that Arwyn just stepped in a mere “bathroom” would probably be a gross understatement. White marble was everywhere and detailed engravings of lilies and other flowers were etched deep into its surface as if sculpted by an almost inhuman hand. Arwyn could make out a number of washbasins and showers in the far end of the room but… well, the massive Roman-style bath that took up most of the room clearly stole the show. Honestly, it was hard to even call it a bath anymore, as a “hot pool” was probably a more apt moniker at this scale. Exactly how rich were these people? This entire palace, for the lack of a better word, was massive and London… well, London wasn’t exactly cheap real estate as things went. And this bath…

It all almost seemed to indicate that… In any case, they seemed to be richer then anyone else you had ever seen at least.

“Oh?”

Arwyn’s eyes were drawn to the baths and the two figures seated in it.

The first one, a green-haired man, was a familiar sight to Arwyn. It was Saver, the strange Servant of the White faction with whom Saber had clashed yesterday in the forest. Your first reaction would have been confusion at seeing a spirit enjoying a bath, but after some further thought, it wasn’t really that unusual. Servants were humans in the past, after all. It wouldn’t be surprising to see them retain the habits and enjoyments they had during life. Though… judging from his expression, Saver seemed to be far more somber this morning then he was last night.

“Aah, Saber’s Master. Good morning.”

“... I see. So he was the one you were talking about, Saver.”

“...mhm.”

The other man, however, seemed to be a complete stranger. Dark hair, a small stubble... in contrast to Saver, who seemed quite outlandish, this man seemed far more ordinary in his appearance. Well, that would be if it wasn’t for two things. Firstly, the number of scars that you could make out on his body. Clearly, whoever he was, he had seen his share of fighting. And secondly… that look in his eyes. It wasn’t completely devoid of emotion and calling it heartless would have probably been incorrect, but… there was a sharpness there sent shivers down your back. Rather than lack of emotion, it was more like a lack of… hesitation?

For some reason, the image of cold steel flickered in your mind for a second.

“Mr. Penrith, right? I have to say, I was quite surprised when I heard that Ilya brought home a Crown Prosecutor of all things, but...”

A smile appeared on the man’s face. It was polite if nothing else.



“In any case, my name is Emiya Kiritsugu. I’m Ilyasviel’s father.”

“You seem to have built up a fair amount of sweat from your training, so feel free to join us.”

The man, Kiritsugu, gestured at the huge bath.

“There is plenty of space after all.”

Saber of White (?)
16th of December, 2004
Dining Hall
Morning (Phase 2-1)

Guided by Leysritt, Saber made her way into the dining hall.

The table in the middle of the room was surprisingly small, all things considered, clearly meant for no more than ten people. Plates and silverware rested on the table, with elegantly folded red serviettes resting on the white dishes. Based on the spotless clean plates, you most likely the first one to arrive for breakfast. Then again maybe the maids here wouldn’t really leave used dishes lying around.

As Saber stood alone in the middle of the room Leysritt vanished out of the back door for a brief moment, before returning with a rather large looking metal trolley, loaded with a veritable mountain of different breakfast items. Judging from its appearance, you wouldn’t be surprised if the cart was actually carrying a full continental breakfast on its surface. A moment later, the trolly came to a rather shaky stop next to the table.

Leysritt pointed towards one of the seats at the far end of the table.



“...mhm…. Time to eat.”

Meanwhile, Saber could make out half of a white-haired head pop out from behind the open doorframe.

Crimson eyes peered at the raven-haired swordmaster with an almost exuberant curiosity.




“Ara?”

“Arararararararara?”

Eh? Why did a shiver just run down your back?

[Reiu]

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

Arwyn hadn’t supposed too much could surprise him after Ilya conjured an entire garden out of seeming thin air, but all the same, the Roman marble bath was a surreal sight.
The estate’s location, situated where it was on the grounds of the Lee Valley Park, was already rather suspect, to say the least. But perhaps it would do no good to ponder the ways of these magi too much, in the end. There was, after all, much more he did not comprehend of their world, than what little he did.

“Oh?”

A voice, startling him out of his musing.

“Aah, Saber’s Master. Good morning.”

Arwyn’s gaze followed its source, only to see that he was not, in fact, alone in this steam-filled place.

“Ah…good morning, Saver.”

He responded almost instinctively, more than a little embarrassed at the situation—before noting Saver’s more somber expression.
And…the other man in the bath.

“... I see. So he was the one you were talking about, Saver.”

“...mhm.”

Dark hair and eyes. Numerous scars across his back. A war veteran or…someone who plied his living on the shadowy fringes of society, perhaps.
At the moment, Arwyn couldn’t quite tell which seemed more probable.

“Mr. Penrith, right? I have to say, I was quite surprised when I heard that Ilya brought home a Crown Prosecutor of all things, but...”

“In any case, my name is Emiya Kiritsugu. I’m Ilyasviel’s father.”

Ilyasviel’s father.
Arwyn thought back to the silver-haired girl; she never did give a clear answer to him on why she was in this War, in the end.
He wondered how this man, her father, figured into all of it.

No one told me to do anything. Kiritsugu just told me to stay at home today.


“….”


Arwyn nodded.
The question briefly surfaced in Arwyn’s mind of how the man—Emiya Kiritsugu—knew his exact profession. But then again, the information was most likely out there, somewhere. He knew his name, after all; conveyed to him by Saver, most likely.


“You seem to have built up a fair amount of sweat from your training, so feel free to join us.”
“There is plenty of space after all.”


“—By your leave, then.”


Arwyn gathered himself, gingerly, to approach the marble bath.


“——…….”


As expected, the hot water was more than a little painful in his current physical condition, and yet to Arwyn’s surprise, also dangerously sedative. With no little immediacy, his body reminded him of his severe lack of sleep, as he briefly experienced a moment of dizziness.

Nonetheless, even as his body threatened to succumb to exhaustion, his mind was wide awake.


“I apologize if I was intruding on your conversation, Saver, Mr. Emiya.”


….Was that his surname or his first? Given that the man’s name seemed to be of Japanese origin, Arwyn could not quite be certain.
The most he could do was hope that he wasn’t committing some terrible faux pas.

He seated himself at a deferential distance, not far and yet somewhat farther apart than the two men were from each other.


“If I may explain…” Arwyn shifted slightly. “I had introduced myself to Saver last night, after I made the acquaintance of your daughter, Ilyasviel.
"It seems that he has spoken of this to you.”


It occurs to him now that Saver must have seen, along with Ilya, the task which he had set himself about at Lee Valley Park. The purpose for which he, and Saber, had visited the deserted woods at night.

An image of dried blood and snow-packed dirt flashed to mind.

…That matter will come up when it must, Arwyn knew. He had no intention of lying on the matter.
Just as he had been forthright with Saber, Ilya had a right to know whom she had chosen as her ally, should so she wish.


“Ilyasviel has been generous with her hospitality. I am grateful to her for that, and other matters besides.”


Arwyn’s serious countennace softened slightly as he said so.
Yes, he certainly was grateful. It was only thanks to Ilya that there had been no greater bloodshed last night than the skirmish between Saver and Saber.

She had also ordered the instigation of it to begin with, but, well…seeing as he was apparently trespassing on their grounds, even unknowingly, it couldn’t be helped...most likely.


“Saver may have explained, but I believe I owe an apology for my unwarned intrusion on your estate.” Arwyn took a breath. “After the encounter last night, Ilyasviel made an offer, which, as I understand it, was for me to join the White faction.”

“…If I may be candid, practical implications aside, I do not regard myself to truly be a part of White.

“I do, however, considered myself allied to Ilyasviel.
As you are her father, if you will excuse the unusual place and timing…perhaps a proper introduction is in order.”

…What is your favorite color, Ilya?

A frivolous, nonsensical question it may have appeared to any other, but it was one Arwyn had asked Ilya with the utmost seriousness, all the same.

—Now, he recalled her answer then—

“I am Arwyn Penrith, Saber’s Master. Allied with Ilyasviel von Einzbern, and Master of Red.”

A hint of a softer, sheepish timbre entered Arwyn’s voice. “The color of Ilya’s choice, when I had asked her the color she favored most.”
……A moment of silence filled the place his words had occupied, before he spoke again, more softly.

“And you, Mr. Emiya?”

Arwyn spoke the words with care, asking a question that he knew that he may well have had no right to ask, nor perhaps any business doing so, for that matter.

All the same.

“…May I assume that you are also an ally of your daughter, Ilya?”

[arkturus]

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


Assassin looked down at the plate of food placed before her. Steamed grains. Protein fried in oil and lightly seasoned. A small number of greens added as a garnish. Certainly different from the types of meals she was used to. She lifted the plate up and breathed in, catching a whiff of the freshly made food. No traces of any poison, not that she needed to check it was just force of habit. She glanced over to the silver utensils that flanked the ceramic dish.


Gingerly she picked up a fork and shoveled a spoonful of food into her mouth. First the scrambled eggs. They were soft and light, cooked perfectly. The freshly chopped chives gave the eggs a slight crunch that broke up their soft texture. Second, the rice, the staple grains. This variety was quite fluffy and more glutinous than the long grained rice she was used to eating. The subtle taste served as an excellent palate cleanser. And finally the turkey bacon. The Grail had revealed to Assassin that bacon was traditionally a salt-cured cut of pig flesh, but this was created with the meat of a flightless bird. She bit into it. It was...quite good. Cooked properly, not burnt and not too salty. It touched her that Akechi was considerate enough to take into account her inability to eat pork and it put her at ease that horse meat would likely not be an issue either due to its uncommonality.


“ThE fOoD oF yOU iNFiDeLs iS...quiTE sOMeThiNG. It wAs gOOd.” Assassin mumbled these words slowly, chewing on them as to ascertain their taste. She was unaccustomed to giving praise. In the ranks of the Hashashin excellence was not exemplary, it was expected. Superficial satisfaction in one’s work lead to complacency. Complacency lead to overconfidence. And overconfidence lead to one’s inevitable failure.

"While I don't mind giving you some more mana Assassin... I don't mind if you gather some from the local populace as long as it is discrete. However, given your class and skillset... It might be more beneficial to replenish off of the lower ranks of the Clock Tower. Each has its benefits and downsides, and I'll leave the choice up to you."

“THe SoUL oF mAGi woULd bE mORe eFFiciEnT. I wiLL BeGiN aFTeR tHiS meAL.”


Assassin continued munching on the food in front of her. She didn’t want to waste the food that was made specifically for her.

[Sei]

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

It isn't much of a reaction, but I suppose it will suffice for now. In it's own way, this kind of response is more appreciable. Rather than a single big outburst, there are several smaller little "intricacies" that one can drink in and examine. But these are things I will have to appreciate at a later time.

"Yes, breakfast. Well..." Containing my glee, I release Lapis's hand, "I suppose something simple will suffice. A nice bratwurst with some eggs and rye. Oh... And a nice honey spread to go with it. I'd also like some freshly sliced strawberries with just a drizzle of chocolate. Dark. And for the drink... A nice hot cup of coffee with milk and extra sugar."

With my order placed, I hop out of bed and look through the mess for a serviceable outfit.

"That aside... Is there anything on my agenda for the day, Lapis? If not, I would like to get in contact with Master Kiritsugu so that I may discuss our findings last night."

[Ayakashi]

--- --- Day: Time: Location: --- Wounds: Mana: --- Status Effects:

Caster of White --- 15th of December, 2004 Morning (Phase 2-1) Aila's Mansion, Somewhere in London (???) ------ ?? ?? ------------- None

On this fresh morning, as the sun shone down upon the city glazed in white, someone stood atop the mansion where Aila Einzbern resided: a Lady in clothes that were quite ill-suited for the snow-laden and freezing weather, but she seemed to feel no cold at all. Indeed, the weather did not bother her, for rather than being resistant to it, there was no interaction between them, at all -- all who would see her could tell by the fact that not even a puff of vapor left the woman's mouth as she breathed lightly and gazed upon the distant sun, rising behind the outlines of skyscrapers.

But then such is the nature of Servants in their spiritual forms, akin to ghosts, thy are a sight no mere human can see.

"The Light of Ra Shines upon the land, all that the light touches is His."

She speaks this statement as she reaches out towards the Sun, grasping the distant Celestial Body in her hand... but this is more than some symbolic or nostalgia-infused moment -- as Caster gently lets the Sun rest within her palm, mana radiates around the Servant's body for a brief second, taking on the same golden colour that she emanates as she uses up her power for some mysterious ritual...

Her eyes close, yet now, they are more open than ever, for now she sees through the Eye of Ra.

Stat Screen - Caster of White

List of Spells

Create Familiar (Light) Type: Evocation | Rank: B

Creates a familiar made of sunlight. Though light by modern standards should be entirely incorporeal, these familiars, taking the shape of golden hawks, [...], possess mass and are entirely able to interact with the ‘real’ world. [...], they are quite useless against Servants and are better off as scouts. [...]

Molded Light Type: Illusion | Rank: C

Bends and twists light to the point where one can make themselves look like whatever they wish -- potentially the perfect form of disguise, if it wasn’t for the fact that this is simply an optical illusion. There is no actual modification to the target’s physique, and such, people who do not rely on sight / have very keen senses can probably see through this spell.

Eye of the Sun God Type: Divination | Rank: B

A special spell that links one’s sight to the rays of light descending upon the earth. In a similar fashion to how the Sun God oversees all, the user of this spell is able to scry upon a massive area as if they had the most powerful form of Clairvoyance. But... [redacted] An advanced mage such as Caster can process a lot more information and use it to its fullest, being able to avoid information overload.

Summons

Golden Falcon	Stats (Master Level)
A falcon seemingly woven out of gold, but that is in fact crystallized sunlight. Its radiance should technically make it ill-suited for reconnaissance [...] Due to being heavily specialised in scouting, the Golden Falcon does not really have any other uses, and is barely apt for combat. The greatest threat it could present to non-servants would be using its nimbleness and agility to go for an attack onto the target’s exposed eyes.	STR AGI END MAG LCK	E C E D C

[Mellon]

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

“I've been rather presumptuous, it seems, to assume you would be up and about like myself at this time of day."

“No, in any other circumstance, you’d be correct.” A tired sigh echoed from the other end of the phone. “But yesterday ended up being far more busy than I initially assumed and I’m still dealing with the aftermath of what happened.”

"It was a rather tiring excursion, with a bit of unwelcome excitement, so I'm thinking of taking it easy today, perhaps getting a nice warm drink from the usual place and making small-talk with the regulars. From the sound of it, your night was just as eventful? If so, you and your tenant are welcome to join us there."

The voice on the other end was silent, clearly waiting for Michael to finish, before giving her own opinion on the matter. Or perhaps she was simply collecting herself in the meantime? It was rare to see Bazett so… out of it. Even her initial barbs held a certain languid tiredness to them that the British man hadn’t ever associated with the purple-haired Enforcer before.

“... you mean World’s End? It's probably the only place private enough, but… blah.” Bazett’s distaste was evident in her voice. “I’m not really in the mood to deal with Myencallion. Lord or not, I feel like I have to wash off a layer of grease every time I interact with him.”

A brief pause interrupted the talk between the two of you.

“Fine. We need trade information on yesterday anyway. It's probably better for you to hear it from me, rather than try to piece together the million and one rumors that are floating around in the Association at the moment.”

“I should be there in an hour, given the ridiculous weather outside.” A light undercurrent of irritation was audible in Bazett’s normally stoic tone. “I swear, a dash of snow and half the city shuts down in horror.”


16th of December, 2004
North London - World’s End
Morning (Phase 2-1)

Turning away from the cold and the winds, Michael turned his way into a small alleyway…. Over their spiritual link, the British Enforcer could feel Archer shifting uncomfortably in Spirit Form as the two of them passed through the numerous layered Boundary Fields that surrounded Alexis’s establishment. There was no way that Alexis wasn’t aware of the immense concentration of prana that had suddenly entered World’s End. Officially, it shouldn’t matter. World’s End had a reputation of staying out of Clock Tower politics and was supposedly open to everyone.

...officially.

Unofficially, Alexis was still one of the most influential magi in London and a key player in the Clock Tower. And while the man was most assuredly genial in his behavior and very...independent, he was still very much a magus. One that was very old and as capricious as they came. While it was unlikely that he would ever get in direct clash against the two of you (he most assuredly wouldn’t be foolish enough to directly fight against a Servant), Michael would eat his hat if the Mediterranean Lord wasn’t planning something at least.

The “entrance” into the bar itself wasn’t dramatic at all. In fact, it was a half-dented steel side-door of the Qwik Fit - a worn-looking tire workshop. It was an actual tire shop, of course, not a simple facade and today actually seemed to be a rather busy day for them, with the weather and all. But, Michael could never tell if the people who were working there were in on the “illusion” or not. There was no trace of magical energy present, but there was something off on the way they moved, almost as if…

The English Enforcer gave a brief shake of his head and pushed open the door in front of him. What greeted him inside was the familiar sight of World’s End - London’s premier magical pub and hotel.

Giving a brief wave in greeting to Gladshelm, the gruff-looking barkeep standing behind the large bar counter, Michael headed into the depths of World’s End, his destination clear in mind. The bar itself was humungous, seemingly capable of accommodating hundreds of people a the same time and even at this early hour (and with this crappy weather), the main hall was almost half-full. That wasn’t where you were heading, however. World’s End was well known for its “private” rooms, which supposedly promised absolute privacy. Exactly how private they were, considering that it was Alexis who ran this place, was a question in itself, but they were most assuredly more private than most places in London.

Reaching the twin wooden saloon doors, Michael pushed them open and walked inside.

The neon sign crackled above.

A brief feeling of disorientation came over Michael as his surroundings seemed to flicker for an almost imperceivable moment. As usual, the room he had entered to after passing through those double doors didn’t match what had come before. The saloon doors had vanished, only replaced by a single heavy wooden door, with a gold plated 7 hanging in the middle of it. The room itself wasn’t much to speak off. A nice-looking corner couch, flanked by a table and some additional chairs.

As you expected, Bazett was sitting there. Her hand was rubbing her forehead almost as if she was trying to banish some unknown headache that was suddenly assailing her.

… and on the other side of the table sat Alexis Myencalion, a smile playing on his tanned features.



“Aah… Michael! Glad you could make it. You’re just in time.”

Alexis raised his, clearly alcohol-filled, cocktail glass towards Michael in greeting.

“Come, persuade fair Bazett here to have a drink with me.”

The grin he gave to the British magus held no small amount of amusement.

[Kirby]

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

“Thank you…Saber. It was certainly edifying. I would also like to hear more of your stories, if the chance arises that you feel like doing so again.”

“Eh? Oh yeah, yeah. I got a bunch of these memorized, y’know? Little tales Gramps used to tell me. But yeah,” I say, taking a sniff. Sweat and blood and dirt and sand, if sand has a smell. “You should take a bath first.”

And of course, I’d barely broken a sweat and thus smell immaculate, so I wouldn’t need a bath, even if it wasn’t ‘men’s time’, or whatever that vaguely ominous declaration was supposed to mean. Even if I feel a vague sense of foreboding. I shrug it off.

In the meantime, however…

These folk look rich. And if there’s one thing I know about rich people…


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

...Is that they’re loaded when it comes to f—

Wait.

I blink.

The servants had led me to their banquet hall, or what I had expected to be a banquet hall. This is right place, right? I blink again, as if to make sure of what I was seeing. It was smaller than I expected. Way smaller. From what I was expecting of a castle like this, I would’ve expected a hall thrice, or at least twice the size of this place at the very least.

Still bigger than that little hut we used to live in.

As I take in the sight of the thing, the houseservant disappears behind the doors and wheels out a little cart, laden with a veritable rainbow of foodstuffs, things I’d never seen before. Words flicker in the back of my mind as my eyes pass over each one, as if filling in the gaps of my memories. Fried potatoes— what, something like taro?— trays of little sausages— yes, of course I remember those at least— streusel cakes and gateaus— they must really be rich, if they can afford something like sugar— and so on, and so on.

“...mhm…. Time to eat.”

I clap my hands together. “Yup, yup! Well, don’t mind if… do…” I trail off into silence, as another head pops out from behind the doorframe.

Eyes like blood. Hair like snow. An ethereal, unnatural beauty.

“Ara?”

“Arararararararara?”

I blink.

‘Ara’? What is ‘ara’?

“Arara?”

[Bloble]

Michael Blackmore
16th of December, 2004
North London - World’s End
Morning (Phase 2-1)

It is not unusual, in nearly every country, to find a high quality drinking spot behind an unassuming door in an unassuming wall. The tradition of hiding treasure in plain sight is a universal one, that rewards those who see through the obvious. Faux-anonymity of location also lends an air of excitement and shared secrets to any clandestine meetings that happen behind that door. For that reason, despite (or perhaps because of) it being a semi-regular watering hole for the entirety of London's magus population regardless of affiliation, those who walk into the World's End are rarely entirely at ease. After all, it isn't uncommon for mutual enemies to spot each other from across the bar, like the lion and gazelle that drink from the same oasis. A neutral ground means one must never stare too closely at their drink, lest some rumour or snippet evade them. Seldom do any incidents occur at the World's End, a testament to its owner's influence, but all the same, that "what if" remains in the minds of the paranoid, a population which includes most magi worth their salt.

Michael Blackmore was no such magus. He breathed a heavy and genuine sigh of relief as he was enveloped both by warm inside air and layered bounded field alike. He strolled through the entrance, handed off his coat to the most trustworthy doorman in London, and greeted the bartender like an old friend as soon as the scruffy man had a moment to breathe.

"Busy day, eh, Gladshelm? But I see you're handling it as splendidly as always. I'll have a pint of the local stout and... has the uisge beatha come in yet? If so, a glass of that, please."

Yes, to the large Enforcer, there was nothing to fear in the World's End. He visited it often enough that he almost considered the bar a second home. He surveyed the area as he loosened his tie, leaving only a thin white collared shirt between his skin and the musty air.

This is neutral ground, he explained to Archer as he waited for his order. Alexis Myencallion is not one to cross, neither by the association nor any of the reclaimers. He wields enough influence to ignore several of the rules that I am bound by, including establishing this place and enforcing its peace.

Michael's drinks arrived: one large dark glass and another, much smaller one. He accepted them with a quick "Cheers" and left enough change for Gladshelm to buy himself a drink.

That does not mean it is safe. As much as I would like to insist that you relax and take a well-deserved break, I will have to ask that you remain vigilant. Our enemies may have little to no respect for London's rules. We cannot assume they will respect the sanctity of the World's End, either. If you sense the signature of another Servant - Bazett's aside - do not let it escape your notice, but do not engage.

Even as he mentally warned his Servant about the possibility of foul play, Michael strolled through the pair of saloon doors to his private room with a spring in his step.

The reason...

“Aah… Michael! Glad you could make it. You’re just in time.”

A chance to sit down with not one, but two of his favourite drinking buddies.

“Come, persuade fair Bazett here to have a drink with me.”

Judging by the dour look on Bazett's face, she wasn't nearly as enthusiastic about the the prospect.

Michael chuckled, and set down both glasses.

"Glad to see the weather hasn't dampened your spirits, Alexis. But even with that spirit on our side, I'd give us poor odds in that match. Let's keep it to ourselves; Bazett's had a long night. Whether she joins us will be her decision alone."

Even as he spoke in her defense, Michael slid the smaller of the glasses over to his colleague, keeping the stout for himself. He had already bought it, so...

"At the risk of stereotyping, may I suggest the Scotch? They say the brewing technique for this one dates back further than most magus bloodlines. Perhaps it'll bestow a bit of strength and cheer."

Michael Blackmore was usually a modest man. He did not easily fall to the temptation to indulge in vices and excess. Neither was he an alcoholic or consummate drinker. He would never jeopardize the mission by lowering his mental state. Michael was, however, a patriot, and very in tune with the drinking culture of his homeland. After a hard day's work (or in the case of his occupation, before), it was only natural to share a drink with the coworkers.

Bazett did not need to be explained, and if you squinted, it was even possible to see Alexis as Michael's boss (though with how casually Michael addressed the man, it was much hard to believe it). “Giver of All Sealing Designations” is not a title one earns easily, after all.

Michael turned back to the man who had greeted him, smiling placidly and raising his mug in response.

"That said... I'm glad you could make it on such short notice, Alexis. I must confess, I was worried your schedule would be too packed to spare time for a drink."