Fate/Re:Trace

[Aladar]

Next chap will feature a bit of Waver POV, a glimpse in Glen's past and whatever the hell I can cook up next.

[Sherrinford]

Yeeeaah.

[Aladar]

Chapter 9:
Nightmares and Daydreams

The deepest crimson, like a blossoming rose.

That was the only color that existed in the boy’s horrid dreams.

The darkness engulfed the world around him- a dark veil that mercilessly hid everything from view. And yet it didn’t matter to him whether he could see or not, whether it was night or day or if the world was still alive out there. All that mattered in his gory little world was that vivid crimson, the one thing he could focus on which helped him escape the seething clutches of insanity.

Crimson like her hair, sparkling under the sun’s gentle kisses as it cascaded past her shoulders.

Crimson like her lips, always curled in a smile when they played amidst the rose bushes in the mansion’s garden.

Indeed, the blood surrounding the boy was his one and only friend and the sound of its never-ending dripping was music for his ears. He had quickly found out that he could ignore their shrieks of agony if he just focused on the dripping. Things were easier that way- because even though the cold underground darkness hid them from view, the boy knew well-enough that they were still there- always there.

Lurking, frothing, wailing, clawing, biting, eating… waiting.

And he waited, too, for the moment when he was finally going to be set free from his prison. A prison of flesh, blood and bone, as alive as it was dead and as much as its own prisoner as it was his captor.

He had never been the one meant to descend down the spiral staircase which led to the Feasting Halls. Not even after Big Brother had run away was it his task to prove his worth as a successor by spending the traditional week down there. It was her duty and honor to inherit the Crest, no matter that she was older than him by not even a minute. He had heard his parents arguing with Grandfather about it- ‘the Crest must be passed down by merit’, they had said. ‘Both of them are much too young,’ they had argued.

But Grandfather had insisted, pointed out that he was dying and wanted to see a successor chosen before his old and useless body withered away. And so it had been decided that she was the one who had to spend a week down in the Halls. That was the night when the boy had seen Mother cry for the first time in his life. Father’s reaction had been rather more… forceful.

A boy risked only devouring. A girl going down in the Halls… risked much worse.

And so the boy had easily decided that it was going to be up to him to brave the Halls. It sounded dark and dangerous and positively not a place which she, with her lovely crimson lips and flowing hair, should visit. But he- he was determined to prove to his Grandfather that he needn’t worry and send her in just because Big Brother had escaped. If Big Brother had dealt with the Halls successfully, then so would he, concluded the boy. The Crest was supposed to be passed down by merit after all- and the boy wanted to show that he was leagues above that blood-traitor.

The boy had descended down the spiral staircase on that faithful night with only a simple note left behind to explain his intentions. The doors of the Halls had opened almost welcomingly- and yet they had shut themselves behind him with a dreadful screech that had echoed inside the whole cavern. The boy had brought a torch- a mistake he would regret for the rest of his life. Some kind of unknown magic snuffed out the flame almost immediately or maybe it had been just the wind… it didn’t matter.

All that mattered was that one single moment when it had managed to cast its traitorous light on his surroundings. The boy had harbored one sole desire in that fleeting moment- to claw his eyes out with his bare hands.

Writhing and drooling, claws drawn sharp and eyes going mad, their teeth as long as daggers, bone hands and fleshy tentacles wrapping around each other, blood dripping from the web of veins that criss-crossed all over the place, from one creature to another. Some of them were like giant centipedes, one body seamed to the other with dozens upon dozens of thin and wry hands clawing all over the place. Other were nothing but constantly morphing lumps of flesh, tentacles flaying wildly in search of their pray, the one thousand burning eyes covering them staring right into his own. There were half spiders-half men, blind winged worms with seething jaws and a thick hide of spiky bones or just human-shaped dolls of flesh and bone with literally expressionless looks, their faces nothing but an oval membrane under which one could glimpse the constant snapping of their hungry jaws.

Those were to be his inmates inside the Halls. Prisoners gathered for millennia, victims of the Grimaldi’s gift of a ‘fighting chance’. All was one and one was all inside the halls. Connected through the ages with their fleshy bonds and bloody chains, they had grown into a single being, a single conscious yet many. And they remembered.

The first thing the boy learnt how to regrow was his spine.

But the doors never opened when he had expected them to. One week had came and passed and suddenly he was finding himself growing weaker as the hunger threatened to overcome him. A Grimaldi’s body could survive for about a week without any food or water but even a Grimaldi couldn’t live solely on stale air. By the middle of the second week the boy was beginning to get increasingly worried… but he had been resourceful enough to find a solution to his problem.

Men were meat after all. It had been the rational decision.

By the end of the third week, when loneliness and insanity were starting to devour him from the inside, the boy decided to make his little world a bit more like the beautiful one outside.

So he made it rain.

By the end of the fourth week, when one month finally passed and his Grandfather finally opened the gates and allowed him outside, his friends were long since too scared to even slither or crawl anywhere near him.

But the boy didn’t care anymore. Because she was there to greet him, sunlight dancing in her hair and lips as crimson as the blood he had learnt to love so much.

His Alyss.

The cheerful warm glow of the sun blinded Rider when he tried to open his eyes. The blond knight shielded his face with his hand rather groggily as his mind struggled to divide the knight from the boy and boy from the knight. There was a bitter taste in Rider’s mouth but he doubted any liquid, alcoholic or otherwise, could get rid of it.

“Took you long enough,” came Glen’s indifferent voice from the other side of the spacious living room. “Almost thought I’ll have to look for a new Servant.”

Still half-asleep and currently trapped by one very stubborn blanket wrapped around him, Rider answered in the only way he could. With a couple of rapid blinks and a yawn wide enough to swallow the nearby plasma TV. His red-haired Master, nose buried in the morning newspaper with a comically big mug of coffee in his hand, didn’t even bother sparing a glance in Rider’s general direction.

“Why the hell did you even use your Noble Phantasm? You nearly got yourself killed,” muttered Glen under his breath and raised his voice enough for Rider to hear the rest- ergo, the scolding. “Rider, how many times do I have to tell you- I can’t supply you with prana correctly! Wasting yours in situations when victory isn’t certain is just digging your own grave deeper! And unless you are willing to go out and hunt, which I highly doubt you will with your whole goody-two-shoes shtick going on, then you better start thinking before doing anything else reckless like-“

“Yeah, yeah, tactical thinking, preparations, not storming a castle all by myself, yada-yada… yep, all clear, Glen!” announced the muffled voice of the knight, still waging a losing war against his blanket even when he had already gotten up and started walking around the apartment.

Even without being able to see it, Rider knew his Master was currently scoffing. Not that it mattered to him particularly- Glen was kinda broody and mean on the surface but on the inside he was a nice enough guy. It was like the redhead was always running hot and cold and even when he did something good for someone genuinely, he had to act like a dick while doing it. The knight made a mental note to either talk or punch his Master out of this habit.

“For some reason I’m finding it rather hard to believe,” retorted Glen and raised the coffee to his lips only for it to be snatched by his Servant, who had just freed himself from the accursed blanket.

“This thing…” announced Rider after downing it all on one go. “IS GODLY!”

The cup was raised triumphantly in the air, only for Glen to snatch it back seconds later. A sigh escaped the teen’s lips as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Dear God, it’s like trying to win this War with a talking monkey for a Servant!”

“What is it? Can I have more? How do I make more? Don’t tell me we can’t make more! There has to be more!”

The words were coming out of the blond knight’s mouth stringed together, making him almost impossible to understand.

“Alright, alright, I’ll even teach you how to make coffee if you just started listening to what I tell you for once,” cut him off Glen, more in the hopes of shutting him up than anything else. Rider’s long braid swished when he fell down on one knee, voice turning serious and solemn.

“If my freedom must be the price I pay for the secret of making this godly ambrosia, then so be it!”

Glen stared at his kneeling Servant, opened his mouth and then closed it again. It took him half a minute to word a proper sentence.

“Lady Luck must have been really smiling upon me when I summoned you, hasn’t she?”

“Hey… Glen,” said Rider some time later. “Congratulations for earlier by the way. I’m somewhat proud of you really- it was a major step forward.”

“A major step?” echoed the redhead and let out a wistful sigh. “I wish it was. Matching Assassin when she’s out of the shadows isn’t that big a deal for a Grimaldi. Plus, she escaped and I only ended up wasting that Spell.”

“Uhm, I was kinda talking about saving the damsel in distress,” elaborated the blond knight.

“I had a debt to pay, that’s all,” shot back the redhead before his Servant had even finished the sentence.

Inwardly, as a man of action, Rider was fighting the desire to punch the truth out of his Master. Punching a fellow man always straightened him up and raised the morale, or at least so Rider thought. But he decided to make an exception just this one time.

“Riiight,” drawled out the knight and smirked at his Master, only to change to a more serious tone when Glen shot him a glare capable of piercing concrete. “Look, I’m no fool. I’ve seen more war- real war- than you ever will. Believe me. Your debt was paid the moment you didn’t kill your enemy on the spot when you found her lying there. You didn’t even order me to attack Lancer. Repaying her and her family had nothing to do with it, we both know it. Lie to yourself if you want. The truth is the truth and you can’t change it.”

“Nonsense! I did it just because a Grimal- why the hell did you do that for?!” cried out the teen in anger and rubbed the spot where his Servant had smacked him up the head. Rider thought his Master should have been thankful he wasn’t wearing his gauntlets but instead chose to skip straight to the point.

“Do you even know why I answered your call?”

Glen, frankly, looked a bit shocked at the question.

“Well, usually the Servant answers because they have a wish of their own and need the Grail to realize it. But in your case- God only knows. Hell, I’m scared to ask. Please don’t tell me it’s just because you find the local cuisine delicious. You at least have some reason to fight, right?”

“I answered because all you asked for was a fighting chance. Not to rule the world or change the past or anything else- all you wanted was a shot at breaking your chains,” explained Rider, hands crossed in front of his chest. “Back then when you summoned me, you asked for my assistance as yourself. Not as a magus, not as the scion of a millennia old family, but as yourself. So what I’m asking you is this, Glen: are you going to wage this war as yourself or are you going to keep on living as an extension of the very thing that chained you?”

Perhaps for the first time since they had forged their contract, Glen had no witty retort ready for him.

***

The sparkling dust danced lazily under perhaps the few warm beams the sun had left in stock. Autumn was reigning outside, as evident by the leafless trees visible through the windows but one couldn’t really tell from inside the warm house. It was one of those picture-perfect homes signature for the American suburbs, white porch and all, but Waver Velvet wasn’t there for sightseeing.

So, without even looking twice at the bespectacled girl calmly snoozing snuggled in a blanket on the nearby couch, the magus headed straight for the blue-haired teen currently sprawled on the floor. Graham’s bluish hair was in a state of dishevelment comparable to a bird’s nest and through his open mouth escaped an amalgamation of brutish sounds akin to a buzzsaw trying to cut through solid concrete. Waver’s eyes stopped for a bit to inspect the empty bottle of whiskey his apprentice was currently hugging and then let out a tired side alongside the smoke of his cigar. The long-haired magus nudged his younger counterpart with his foot but all he succeeded in doing was making the blue-haired teen hug his leg instead of the bottle.

“I-i-I dun care if yer… not that kind o’ girl, sweetey! This is a matter o’ supreme importance so just ditch ‘em clothes and-“

A painful yelp escaped Graham’s mouth when his now-crouching teacher flicked him mercilessly on the forehead.

“Wha? Huh? Who?” blubbered Graham and tried to look around, only for the sunlight to blind him. “Tohsaka? That you?” suddenly asked the mage as enthusiastically as a just woken-up drunk could and squinted at Waver’s face.

Another flick promptly followed.

“You wish, kiddo,” said Velvet and went to open the curtains. The new onslaught of sunlight made his apprentice let out a sound akin to a hissing cat. “Although after that little jewelry theft of yours she’ll probably do come by to visit you sometimes soon. As I caring teacher I’ll even come visit you in the hospital and tell you stories of what you’re missing out in the outside world. I’m sure I can squeeze you I somewhere between poker night and… uhm, well, I’ll think of something.”

“I’m sure it’d be just delightful,” muttered groggily Graham from the floor as he struggled to get back on his feet. The black-haired girl was still sleeping as soundly as ever, the events from the night before finally taking their toll on her. “Besides, I took the jewels from the Edelfelt girl.”

Waver’s reply was just taking a long drag out of his cigar and giving his apprentice a look that clearly told him ‘meh, you’re screwed either way’.

“How’s Archer?” asked the long-haired magus instead.

“Exhausted. Mostly,” answered the teen, somewhat more seriously, and slumped down on the nearest armchair. “But from what he told me about Rider, I think I know with who we’re dealing with here- and I’m telling you, I don’t like it one bit. This guy has the potential to be ridiculously overpo-“

“Everyone in this whole damn War is ridiculously overpowered, Graham,” cut him off the long-haired magus and shot his student a stern look. “That’s the one and only reason it’s even considered fair in the first place. The sole thing that keeps the system working as a contest at all is every Servant being able to walk all over the rest and vice versa. It’s the circumstances leading to that surefire victory that you have to find. That’s your job as a Master.”

“Still, it’s kinda hard to believe what a Servant is capable of sometimes,” admitted the blue-haired teen and let out a wide yawn.

“Oh, trust me, kiddo, you ain’t seen a thing yet,” Waver said as he looked wistfully out of the window, his mind going back to a war long over. Things had been much simpler back then, now that he thought about it. All he had to do back then was win- now… well, his current objectives were rather different from before. “So, how did it go? Did you give her the card?”

“After saving her from the clutches of some Burier goons I did,” proudly proclaimed Graham and puffed his chest a little.

A moment passed in silence, the only thing heard being the sleeping girl’s steady breathing and the autumn wind outside.

“Burier goons?” slowly repeated Waver.

“Okay, okay, they nearly curbstomped me for most of the time but I pulled through in the end, understood? And then there was some psycho with a fancy sword that showed up and-“

“I sent him over to help. I’m persuasive like that,” calmly stated Waver and casually waved off his student’s concern.

“He is nucking futs, bruv!”almost shouted Graham, making Waver cringe.

“A temporary alliance meant to take the Church and its Buriers out of the picture. Or at least sidetrack them a little.”

“Well, still,” muttered the blue-haired teen and grimaced to show his disapproval of his teacher’s tactics. “Why give that girl the Caster card, tho? Sure, she’s probably important if they were after her but I thought you were going to use it.”

“That was the… original plan,” replied Velvet and furrowed his eyebrows. “She’s rather imperative to this War so I’d prefer if she had more protection. Nothing better than a personal Servant when she’d be a target either way.”

“Why?” asked the apprentice and raised an eyebrow. “She certainly didn’t look like Master material to me.”

“You’ll learn why in time,” cut him off the long-haired magus. “For now, focus on beating Rider. And I suggest you get some help from your two little knightly allies when you make your move.”

“Archer and I can take him on! Just give him a day or two to recover and then-“

Graham almost dodged the flick that time. Key word being almost.

“Okay, okay… sheesh, you’re pushier than usual this time.”

“Just… I’m glad you made it through, kiddo,” said the teacher after a short pause and ruffled his student’s already disheveled head some more before turning around to leave.

“Pfft, I would’ve so totally gotten those Burier schmucks. Shouldn’t have worried, y’know.”

“Yeah, yeah, and the girl would’ve even given you some ‘thank you’ snogging,” said the long-haired magus after letting out a hearty laugh and waved his student goodbye before closing the door behind him. “Keep dreaming, kiddo. A life without far-fetched dreams isn’t a life worth living.”

Graham’s indignant retort, muffled by the closed door, fell on deaf ears as Waver set out in the flurry of autumn leaves dancing outside. The long-haired man wrapped his yellow scarf a bit more tightly around his neck and raised the collar of his red trench-coat, his teeth clutching his cigar with contempt as he shivered under the onslaught of the north wind. Sunny or not, winter was coming.

And there was nothing scarier for the magus then what winter could bring alongside itself upon arrival. As if it hadn’t chased him enough inside his dreams, the image of the Skylance encased in flesh and bones, the blood-spawned wings of the creature perching atop it reaching towards the crimson skies, like the tentacles of a beast clawing at Heaven’s Doors, flashed inside his mind’s eye.

A girl still lost in an inferno which had long since died out, seeking to forsake her future for the chance to undo the past. Unknowingly bringing to others the pain she had been forced to endure, she had found a reason, a meaning, and an excuse for each and every death… And when her black knight had finally perished, bound by the chains of heaven … the mind of the girl had shattered.

A boy who always deluded himself that life was nothing but a game of cards, willing to wager his life and that of the world itself on a winning hand that was never dealt. And as his smiles had turned into frowns and his boasting into threats, he had kept on lying to himself that he could fix everything if he just pushed forward a bit more… one more step, one last push and, in the end, yet another corpse.

A girl who dreamed of being a star, the princess always hidden behind her stalwart walls of arrogance and pride. She had stepped into the War knowing full well of the treachery inherent in a human’s soul and yet, despite all her efforts, despite winning each and every battle, all had been meaningless in the end. Betrayed and forgotten, the brightest star in the night’s sky had blackened and fallen, victim to a debt forever left unpaid.

A man still fighting with the crying child inside him, fixated on a pain that only ended if he shared it with the unsuspecting world. A hunter made to hunt his own kind, the spider’s chase had pitted him against a predator too strong for a mere angry child stuck in a grown-ups body to defeat. And as his crystal heart was shattered, alongside him died his dream of freedom.

A man torn apart between his humanity and bloodlust, a death dealer whose only desire was to receive the gift of eternal peace himself. But as the crimson skies had cried above him and the blackened egg inside his heart was about to hatch, even that simple wish was denied to him. Left prisoner in his own skin, the only gift the man received was a ‘fighting chance’.

A girl born of winter, moonlight in her hair, seeking a meaning to a life whose sole and only purpose was death. And even so, her crimson eyes not even once wished to see the world in pain. Alas, the War was no place for the winter fairy’s innocence- and so, on that winter night amidst the blood-tinted snow, the light of her life had been snuffed out forever.

A boy whose prison was his own body, bound by chains of bones and bonds of blood, he had been the one willing to let the whole world burn so he could have his freedom. But when his own blackened heart had finally threatened to kill him and he had found refuge in the heart of another, he had sworn to himself that he would kill the world a thousand times over to protect the one precious to his true heart.

And from that broken promise had been born a crimson angel, the Heaven’s Reaper who hatched from both human and Grail and amidst that unholy marriage between Heaven and Hell… the angel had bloomed.

Waver spat bitterly and rubbed his forehead to chase out the impending headache. Things were getting a bit too confusing for him. Past memories clashed with the never-ending déjà vu of the present and sometimes he found himself wondering if he wouldn’t just avert the old tragedy only for a new one to take its place. It wasn’t as easy as they made it out in books or movies. The long-haired magus had no idea what kind of consequences could result from even the smallest push. And so, hoping to derail the sequence of events as much as he could, Waver had hatched his daring plan.

The biggest change was already evident. Graham had escaped unscarred from his clash with the three Buriers, so he probably would never grow bitter, resentful and blinded by revenge. His apprentice wouldn’t get himself killed, prompting Waver to take his place as Archer’s Master. The newspapers were mercifully lacking the reports of the trail of gory murders originally left behind by Shinosuke. Berserker’s Master was occupied enough with the little Burier hunt Waver had sent him on, which would hopefully lead to someone finally granting the hunter the gift he desired the most. Skirt-chaser that he was, the magus had hoped for his apprentice to immediately propose an alliance to Caster’s Master, forever preventing Glen’s descend into madness upon her death.

Alas, Graham had actually showed a bit of tactical thinking by seeking out the Masters of the other two Knight class Servants… still, there was hope yet. The blue-haired mage had apparently stumbled upon Rider and his Master by chance and he seemed intrigued enough in a potential rivalry. Now, if only Graham could get that boy and his knight out of the War as early as possible… That only left the scheming Burier and the second Grimaldi Master. As far as Waver remembered- and it was somewhat hard to, considering the magus even caught himself having trouble on what tense to use sometimes- Avenger wouldn’t be summoned until some time into the War proper.

That left him still able to intervene with the ritual if he could find the place where old Albus would summon him… and then he guessed one last team-up with Shinosuke would be for the best if they hoped to take down the rogue Burier as quickly as possible.

But, deep down, Waver’s main concern was the Grail itself. Something that shouldn’t have even existed- and he had made sure of that himself- was now about to descend again, twisting Fate around it once more. And there was something wrong with it even before the Grimaldi’s deranged wish had stained it with the boy’s madness, Velvet was certain. He concluded that there was only one way out of it…

Like the one before it, the Grail had to be destroyed as soon as it descended.

***

The reddish tint of the retreating sun was gently spreading all over the waning twilight. The gloomy clouds were drawing closer and closer, heralding a night that was going to be veiled by the curtain of the late autumn rains. Way up high, in their kingdom amidst the skies, the first stars began to appear almost at the same time as their cousins down below. One lit window after another, Hartcroft was shedding its daily skin and morphing into the shining amalgamation of glass, neon and steel it turned into every night. Hidden somewhere beyond the grey cover of the clouds, the waning Moon awaited its chance to get a glimpse of the never-sleeping city of a thousand tales. The northern winds were strong even on the street level but so up high they turned into an almost roaring pack of hounds chasing one another amidst the tops of the skyscrapers that defined the city’s skyline.

From her place atop the railing of the penthouse’s balcony, the blonde girl watched over the modern kingdom she was never going to inherit. Meissa’s electric blue eyes soon turned skyward, staring longingly at the twinkling dots littering the night sky. The cold winds played with her wavy hair but the blonde, despite still wearing only her signature attire, didn’t even shudder. Lightning had many uses- including keeping you warm. But no matter how many uses she found for her family’s magecraft, there was no sense in even trying anymore. Cousin Sirius had already proven that lightning can do anything either way.

No, all Meissa had left was that rare chance of winning the Grail for her family. Even her father would never dare deny the birthright which was stolen from her anymore if she succeeded. The path before her was clear- but somehow instead of proving her superiority she had ended up losing against a total newbie. The word ‘humiliating’ crossed her mind but the blonde somewhat doubted humanity had yet invented a way to express the shame she was feeling properly. And when Glen came into the picture as well…

Shuddering not because of the cold but because of embarrassment, Meissa called out her Servant. Lancer, who had been in spirit form whole day long to heal faster, morphed out of the thin air next to her in a flurry of black mist.

“What is it?” asked the grey-haired knight rather gruffly.

“I…just- well,” Meissa wanted to slap herself to stop the stuttering but instead just kept on focusing on a far off star, hell-bent on not even looking at her Servant. “I’m sorry, okay! I told you there was going to be hell to pay if you lost but in the end you won your match and I ended up… losing,” finished the girl, her last words nothing but a mumble.

A hoarse laugh escaped Lancer’s throat as the knight inspected his newly grown fingers. Meissa wanted to punch his smug face for laughing at her after such a heartfelt apology, at least it was one when coming from her, but the blonde had to just admit to herself she probably deserved it.

“Is it true, what you said? About Glen?” instead asked the girl, probably for the seventh time that day. Her mind was still struggling to comprehend why that brooding egoist would not just spare but even try to help her.

“Rider’s Master? I told you what I saw, Meissa. Believe me if you want, it’s not like I care particularly,” replied the grey-haired knight just like the last six times and shrugged.

“And about that blue-haired pervert?” asked Meissa once again, almost praying for the answer to be different this time. To her horror, Lancer just let out an irritated sigh.

“I’ve turned into a laughing stock!” screamed the girl in anger as blue sparks crackled across her lithe body.

“Oh, enough with the overreacting!” cut her off Lancer, not even flinching under the killing glare she shot at him for daring to shout at her in such a moment. “Do you want to win this War or to look good in front of others? You got out alive, miraculously as it was, and that’s all that matters. Even if one bends the knee upon defeat, he can still strike back later. So just suck it up and the next time you fight, fight for real instead of playing cat and mouse! Because, trust me, rats have the rather nasty habit of biting back when they are cornered.”

“You don’t need to shout it in my face, y’know,” muttered the blonde and once again looked away from her Servant in shame. Yet again, the wind raced around them with a roar.

“What I’m saying is,” eventually continued Lancer, this time a bit more subdued. “Is that as long as there’s blood in your veins and strength in your arms, victory is still in reach, Meissa. Frankly, it’s better now because they will probably underestimate you. And an opponent you don’t take seriously is a deadly opponent. And if you are still worried about what they think of you, then instill fear in their hearts when you show them your real strength.”

The blonde raised her tattooed hand, reaching out towards the heavens as if trying to grab hold of the stars above. The three Command Spells engraved into her flesh glistened slightly under whatever light could reach them, both natural and artificial.

“What is your wish, Lancer?” asked Meissa as she kept on admiring the seals that branded her as a Master.

“My wish is none of your business,” replied the grey-haired knight. “My duty is to win the War for you. I’m not here to be your friend or the shoulder you can cry on when you need to. What I swore was to give you the Grail- and I will do so, no matter who I will have to face or how many need to die in the process. Even if you beg me on your knees not to kill someone, if that someone stands between you and the Grail, I will annihilate them. This is the only thing I can promise you.”

“And what if I am the one that stands between us and the Grail? What if I turn out to be the one thing that prevents us from winning?”

“My answer remains the same,” grimly stated Lancer.

“You are a strange Servant, you know that?” finally asked Meissa, almost with a giggle.

“You aren’t the most usual of Masters yourself. How come I’m not hearing you order me to obey your every order yet?”

“Because what you promised was loyalty,” replied the blonde. “What you promised was that even if I lost my way, you won’t be afraid to drag me back to it, kicking and screaming.”

“A monster’s loyalty,” tried to correct her the grey-haired knight but the girl just shook her head, moonlight dancing in her wavy hair, and smiled.

“Myself aside, Ayaka was weakened and her Servant is still probably half-dead. Assassin’s feathers were rather harshly ruffled by Glen, who himself would fight only in the most dire of circumstances so soon. Not to mention both Rider and Archer have wasted a ton of prana in their fight,” summarized the blonde and her blue eyes locked with the ones of her Servant. “You know what that means, right Lancer?”

“The other two Masters are going to hunt tonight,” replied the grey-haired knight and bared his sharp teeth in a predatory smile. “And so-“

“They wouldn’t expect us to do a little hunt of our own as well,” finished Meissa and rose up, balancing on the railing with two hands outstretched. “What do you think about that, Lancer?”

“I think you should get dressed before we go out.”

Meissa shot her Servant a rather brazen look.

“What’s the matter, Lancer? Am I arousing you by any chance? Perhaps my mini-skirt is a bit too mini for you, hm?” teasingly asked the blonde.

“Hardly,” shot back Lancer. “Unlike buxom women, flat-chested girls don’t usually grab my attention.”

With an indignant ‘hmph’, Meissa bridled up and turned her back to her Servant, only to jump down from the railing a second later. With an irritated sigh, Lancer rushed to follow his Master.

[Sherrinford]

Holy shit Glen Grimaldi.

Plus, Waver scheming. What is his hidden agenda... ? Or better, what is his source of informations?

“My wish is none of your business,” replied the grey-haired knight. “My duty is to win the War for you. I’m not here to be your friend or the shoulder you can cry on when you need to. What I swore was to give you the Grail- and I will do so, no matter who I will have to face or how many need to die in the process. Even if you beg me on your knees not to kill someone, if that someone stands between you and the Grail, I will annihilate them. This is the only thing I can promise you.”

Blood knight... indeed.

“And what if I am the one that stands between us and the Grail? What if I turn out to be the one thing that prevents us from winning?”

Eh! Better not be the last obstacle between Vlad and the Grail, Meissa... better not be the last obstacle between a servant and the grail at all.

“Because what you promised was loyalty,” replied the blonde. “What you promised was that even if I lost my way, you won’t be afraid to drag me back to it, kicking and screaming.”

“A monster’s loyalty,” tried to correct her the grey-haired knight but the girl just shook her head, moonlight dancing in her wavy hair, and smiled.

Team Meissa/Vlad just gained five points!

[I3uster]

Chapter 8:
If it wasn't already apparent that you have a talent for writing exciting action scenes it certainly is now. I look forward to more Rider/Archer interaction in the future. Also, I like the dynamic between Assassin and her Master.
Chapter 9:
Oh those Griamldis are surelyohgodwhatthefuckamIreading. Also, lol at Graham pissing off Rin.

[ItsaRandomUsername]

Thus, this chapter reminded me why I like Aladar's work so much.

Loved the horror tone in Glen's backstory segment. Some nice Lovercraftian vibes emanating from it, which if I remember correctly is what you wanted to go for, yes?

Watch out for Rin, Graham. Watch on out.

Also, this chapter again refutes how great Riders and Lancers are, character-wise.

[Aladar]

Loved the horror tone in Glen's backstory segment. Some nice Lovercraftian vibes emanating from it, which if I remember correctly is what you wanted to go for, yes?

Well, yes... but just about every Master has some throwback to the ones from the 4th and 5th Grail Wars. Like, similar circumstances but totally different ways of dealing with them.

Ayaka, the obvious one, shares her backstory with Shirou (duh) but instead of 'going forward' she is fixated on the past and is, as another reviewer pointed out 'selflessly selfish'... or was it the other way around? Plus, she has a Saber who just happens to be a son/clone of Arturia.

Meissa is the Tsundere who is a must for any TM fic and as the daughter of the Second Owner of Hartcroft maps up to Rin. Gave her a Lancer to mirror Proto-Rin.

Glen is a mash-up of Sakura and Kariya, what with the whole Fleshcrafting, Feasting Halls, tainted Crest and rotting body shtick going on, who instead is fixated on surviving no matter what and escaping his fate as the next body for the family head. And he has a Rider to boot. Who could've been a Berserker, too.

Shinosuke, at his core, is a Kuzuki in skill and stoicness and Ryuu in bloodthirstiness.

Graham is kinda-sorta similar to both Waver and Bazett, in being an English low-gen runemage. But according to all of you he's Shinji reincarnated. Go figure why. :P

Caster's Master screams Illya and Iri.

And Portia, damned spider that he is, is the odd one out.

But all that aside, the important thing is that the Troll lives on and is strong in Nia. Kirei would've been proud, I think.

[Caster]

It's Luvia that he has to worry about. He stole her gems, not Rin's. Unless I misunderstood his statement. Man, forgot about this, glad I came back. I really like what I see so far... and no surprise, I love Rider. I seem to love most of the Rider's believe Extra's is lowest on my list, but in general, Riders are ones I like.

[Spinach]

Awesome chapter. Lots of character development. One thing I remember Sherrin talking about in 6th War fics is something along the lines of "Heroic Spirits inspire people, change them", and I'm seeing what looks like just that between Glen and Rider, who are shaping up to be my favorites of the War. Graham is also a pretty cool guy.

And he has a Rider to boot. Who could've been a Berserker, too.

ohhi

[Aladar]

ohhi

Wut?

[Spinach]

"Orlando Furioso"

[Aladar]

"Orlando Furioso"

Is from where I'd choose a mount for an Astolfo Rider if I ever write about one. About this Rider, I'd suggest you try going a bit to the North. West. Northwest?

[Spinach]

I have little trust in you, most kind sir! I am strongly of the belief that Sir Rider is indeed Roland and I shall not be swayed in any other way.

[Aladar]

I am truly hurt by how distrusting you are. xD

No, seriously, have some faith.

Also, next chap will be devoted to the psychopaths of the fic- Alexander, Shinosuke etc etc

[Spinach]

I will have faith

In ROLAND

ROLAAAAAAAAAAND

(I miss your previous avatar. Fah la la la FUS RO DAH!")

[Aladar]

Chapter 10:
Hunting in the Rain

The roar of the autumn wind fought for dominance with the monotone clatter of the chilly rain. The clouds that had been gathering since sunset had now fully covered the night sky, hiding both moon and stars and making it seem like the heavens had turned into one endless black hole. The only light entering through the broken panoramic window came from the seemingly endless neon parade which enveloped the city every night.

But none of the occupants of the spacious office could be bothered by the lackluster lightning in that rather… tense moment.

“I had that window changed this very afternoon!” exclaimed Alexander, sounding almost genuinely hurt. The suit-clad man currently getting his head crushed as the silver-haired mage hanged him out of said window could only gurgle angrily in response.

“Honestly,” continued Assassin’s Master and shook his head in emphasis, his long ponytail swishing in unison. “What kind of tactless idiocy is just barging in through my door, guns ablazing? I realize the other members of the board would be furious after I basically flipped you all off at VEXA and joined the War, but jeez… talk about having a short fuse. Hell, you’re all technically my employees, too! Some assassins you are, trying to kill the guy who pays you.”

Once again, Alexander found his little speech answered by only a few short gurgles. Well, the man did try to shoot him in the face as well but all the bullet did was get flattened at the crystalline armor which covered the silver-haired mage’s cheek and eye in an instant, seemingly growing out of his very skin. Understandably, amused, Alexander was not.

“That. Does it,” plainly stated the man, sounding more irritated than actually angry. “Trust me, my soon to be deceased friend, inwardly I’m pissed. But you know what? I’m angry at myself. I should’ve killed you along with the rest,” he said and gestured with the bluish-white crystalline blade currently substituting for his right arm at the dozen or so corpses currently littering the place.

“Their idiocy, you see, was somewhat understandable. Sure, they’ve heard of me. Everyone has heard what I’m capable of. But since we’re all people of science here… or, well, at least its pseudo-thaumathurgical version,” said Alexander and shrugged. “It was normal for them to be skeptic and call bullshit on it. So they came in, I showed them the color of their innards, end of story! Hell, as a member of the board I’ll probably have their families receive compensation for such a freak work accident. But you actually think you can kill me after seeing what I did to them?! How did we hire an idiot like you in the first place? You know what? No compensation for your family- you’re fired.”

The scream that came out of the man’s throat was beyond description. As if someone had set his insides on fire and started shredding them all one by one, while pouring salt on them simultaneously, the dying hitman could only howl as sparkling crystals colored bluish-white grew all over his body, like some twisted glittery version of cancer. At the same time, the crystals covering Alexander’s skin retracted, as if they were being transferred into the dying man. Finally, after half a minute of near-constant shrieking, the man could scream no more. The dead had the habit of being rather silent, after all.

“My, it’s good to be free of the pain for a bit!” cheerfully exclaimed the silver-haired mage as he dropped the crystal-covered corpse through the window.

“Master, with all due respect,” almost meekly said Assassin as she appeared out of thin air next to him but the mage just raised his hand to hush her.

“Do you think he’ll hit someone when he reaches the bottom?” asked Alexander and his grey eyes turned downwards, like the eyes of a child wondering what would happen if he introduced some ants to a magnifying glass. “I’ve always wondered if I can kill a man by dropping another man on top of him. Imagine that.”

“Well, yes, but Master-“

The poor fiery-haired Servant was interrupted by the untimely ringing of the phone atop the desk. As he picked it up, the silver-haired mage concluded that his Servant looked almost like a kicked puppy in that instance, if that was even possible for someone hiding her face under a bleach-white skull mask.

“Why, hello there, Mother!” said Alexander and plopped down onto his rather bloody president chair. “Would I be picking up if I wasn’t alive, what kind of a question is that? Yes, yes my ‘going rogue’ shtick turned out to be successful enough to turn our own people on me, apparently. I guess both Elysion and VEXA would be going on a merry little chase after me. I’m under whose protection as a Master? The Church?! Well, now that’s a convenience for you.”

Assassin was all but covering her mouth in meekness as she watched her Master talk his mouth off and play with the phone’s wire.

“Yeah, yeah, Mother, relax. I’ll get that Grail thingie for you. It’s kinda hurtful, you know. Until a few years ago this little shiny spider was your favorite but now I have to share your attention not only with that little harlot, I mean, Charlotte of yours, but with your new pet project? Seraph? Who’s in charge of thinking up the stupid names in the company anyway? We have to fire him, I’m telling you! Wha-“

Alexander looked at his Servant incredulously.

“She hung up on me!”

“How, uhm, rude of her,” said Assassin, concluding that those were the words her Master wanted to hear. “What I wanted to ask you, Master, is that… well, isn’t it dangerous for you to do the fighting like right now? With your condition unnecessary fighting is dangerous and I would have easily disposed of-“

“Aw, is my precious little Assassin worried about me?” cut her off the silver-haired mage and cupped his Servant’s face in his hand, leaning in close enough to feel her ragged breath. “Or are you just scared you will have to share my pain again?” asked Alexander, vice growing as cold as ice. The mage’s lightless grey eyes bore into the black holes in Assassin’s mask.

“No, Master, I would never-“

“There was something else you’ve been wanting to ask me right?”

“This-this woman… why are you calling her ‘Mother’? I thought you planned to-“

“Just a habit of mine, I guess,” replied Alexander and, finally letting go off her face, waved his hand for emphasis. “True, I may have been her glorified lab-rat but she’s been the one constantly there for me since I could remember. No matter how twisted it is, the White Queen has some kind of perverted motherly instincts for her projects. She may rule over the Board of Directors from the shadows but to us she showed her face and shared her name. Plus, Miss Harwey’s the reason I got out of that orphanage and gave me this life of luxury. The only price I had to pay for the gift that turned me into probably the most powerful man in Hartcroft was the pain. And it’s somewhat hard to remember what it was to live without it anyway.”

“And yet-“

“And yet I have no intention whatsoever to give her the Grail,” said Alexander, not caring that he had interrupted his Servant for the umpteenth time. “As I said, my only price was the pain. But I have gotten tired of paying it again and again. The White Queen will soon find out that my mock defection isn’t as fake as she thinks.”

Assassin only nodded silently, the mane of black flames adorning her head dancing around her frame like an unholy halo.

“Where do we go now, Master?” she finally asked and gestured to the wrecked room.

“Five of the Master-Servant pairs, us included, got hit rather hard last night,” said instead Alexander. “Surely some tactical genius among the other four pairs has wrongly concluded that Berserker and Caster would be out for blood tonight and decided to spring a trap on them while the two healthy Servants themselves are looking for the injured ones. But since we know for a fact that Caster is still holed up in her Workshop and Berserker is kept on a tight leash underground for reasons unknown, we two will take advantage of the situation and-“

“Ambush the ones setting up the ambush,” finished Assassin, her lips morphing into a predatory smile.

***

Frankly, the never-ending rattle of the rain was beginning to grate his nerves. After spending the majority of the day and the night chasing after the three Buriers who had escaped him the night before, Shinosuke was understandably less than happy when his hunt had led him in the less than picturesque back alleys of the city.

Hidden deep below the imposing figures of Hartcroft’s giants of glass and steel, these dirt-covered shady streets seemingly exemplified the worst possible facets of the big city. But his trail had led him there and the young man had no intention whatsoever of letting go. Not after he had wandered around the city like a headless fly for so much time trying to corner his prey. At first cutting off their way to the cathedral had seemed like a good idea but after not even one of them had headed in its general direction, things had gotten rather… complicated.

But now Shinosuke was finally about to catch up with one of them and finish what he had started in Persephone’s Grove. The thought that they had escaped from him at first was somewhat embarrassing, but the young man assured himself that there was nothing shameful in letting one of the famous Buriers of the Church slip away, even if they were only three and he had had that silly-looking blue-haired mage and his Servant to serve as a distraction.

A stray cat hissed somewhere near as it jumped inside a dumpster to hide from the pouring rain but Shinosuke paid it no heed. With only the occasional faint ray of light stemming from some high up window to partially light his way, the young man pushed forward relentlessly. Eventually, after turning round yet another dark corner and ending up in a dead-end alley, he came face to face with his prey. It was the blonde girl- or rather- the young woman with the four mechanical limbs which ended in sharp, curved claws.

Now that he could actually stop for a bit and take a look at his prey, Shinosuke concluded that she could even pass as somewhat pretty with a bit of primping. Her chin-length hair was rather unkempt and that tight fitting bodysuit she wore revealed a slim and muscular, yet rather flat figure. Still, her butt looked rather ample. Were all female Executors sporting ample butts because of all the training they got, absent-mindedly asked himself the young man as he loosened his katana from its sheet with his thumb. Then again, categorizing women in such manner was rather rude. Plus, that woman was going to be nothing more than a corpse after a minute or so and since it was even ruder to speak ill of the dead, Shinosuke refrained himself from voicing his question. Instead, the young man bowed slightly and said:

“Shinosuke Hasegawa, a pleasure to meet you. Is there any particular way in which you wish to die? I’m somewhat tired after the chase so I just want to get this over with and go have a shower.”

“You. Are. Insane!” shouted the woman and pointed at her hunter with one of her clawed artificial fingers. “You’re worse than even those filthy mages, you bastard! Do you actually listen to yourself? Are you even fucking human, you fucking dolt?!”

“Now that’s rather rude of you to sa-“

In the time it took for him to blink, the Burier was already in front of him and rearing back her clawed hand. Unfortunately for her, the loosened katana was out of its sheathe in an instant and Shinosuke’s one-handed upwards arc almost sliced her face in two. Ducking down and to the side, the woman immediately dodged the strike and extended her claw upwards, preparing to strike the man’s chin from below… only for him to step backwards.

Shinosuke prepared to execute one last sideways slice and be done with it- she had overextended herself. But instead the Burier was now behind him, jamming her elbow into his spine hard enough to nearly shatter it and more than hard enough to send Shinosuke reeling forward. The young man used his katana as a break to stop himself.

For the first time since forever, his breath was somewhat ragged. He had done well to remove his blindfold when he had started his hunt. The currently damp fringe of black hair still hid his eyes from those around him but even looking through the bangs was helpful when it came down to dealing with someone so fast. That had been the woman’s main strength the last time as well. Somehow, and for the life of his Shinosuke couldn’t say how, she was faster than him.

Hell, in an open field she may have even stood some chance.

The young man’s musing were cut short when, accompanied by the clank of chains, her right claw came flying towards him. It was easily dodged, but the electrical surge it let out when embedding itself into the wall behind him blew it up with enough force to send him flying into the opposite direction. Somehow regaining his footing and dodging the retracting claw on its way back to its owner, Shinosuke readied his katana and darted towards his prey. She dodged his strike, that much he had expected, but he had certainly hoped for his one-hundred degrees kick to do more than nick her chin as she jumped back. Having swapped their positions yet again, the hunter prepared to lunge at the hunted once more…

Only for the Burier’s artificial hand to reveal a palm-mounted canon already lighting up with the gathered electricity. Barely managing to drive his katana into the ground on time, Shinosuke was hit by the full burn of the blast. In an instant, the whole night was lit up as blue arcs of roaring thunder crashed all around him. The feeling of his flesh being nearly burnt off overrode his mind with pain… and soon enough that thing inside him decided to intervene, scared for its well-being. Diamond-hard black scales, like those of a snake, grew over his body to protect the thing’s container. And, eventually, when the whole storm subsided, the Burier could only look incredulously at him.

“You have an Egg like Gideon,” stated the woman. It wasn’t a question. She knew it and from what Shinosuke had seen in her way of dealing with her Burier… partner, she knew well enough how to use that newfound information to her advantage. The young man let out an irritated sigh. Sometimes, luck just wasn’t on his side.

He moved to dodge them, albeit knowing it was futile. The enchanted chains springing forth out of the Burier’s ahnd, seemingly out of thin air, locked onto him like hounds picking up the scent of a wounded animal. Immobilized and humiliated, Shinosuke was forced to endure the blonde’s smirk.

“The Ninth Holy Scripture- Reins of Seven Heavens,” said arrogantly the Burier. “Created with the sole purpose of suppressing and controlling those of your kind. Now do you see the might of the Church, you foul beast?”

Shinosuke could only grit his teeth in annoyance. The black scales had already been suppressed but he preferred it that way- he went all-out only against someone strong enough to pose a real threat to him. But this woman had just about lost the battle when she had fallen back on relying on her fancy weapon. Coerced by some undeniable power against his will, Shinosuke was forced to step forward and pick up his weapon. His own hands turned the katana against his heart. He knew what came next. He only prayed his will was strong enough to twist his hands a little because being killed by that annoying woman would be too much of a shame to bear.

As she jerked her hand, the blade he had taken so many lives with shot forward to take his own. But instead, barely biting back the shout of pain, its owner managed to twist the katana enough so it would merely pierce his chest right next to the heart. Aside from the pain nearly making him black out, Shinosuke’s plan had worked- that much pain was definitely strong enough to force his body out of her hold.

The Burier wasted a precious few seconds, both shocked at him shaking off the strength of the Scripture and wondering whether he had wounded himself enough. Shinosuke’s answer to that question was pulling out the blade sticking out of his chest with an expressionless mask plastered onto his face. Realizing her mistake, the Burier shot out both her claws at once. One of them he dodged, leaving it to embed itself into the wall next to him and the other he took out mid-air, his katana nailing it to the dirty ground. With both hands stuck, there was nothing much the woman could do when he darted towards her. Instinctively, she tried to retract her artificial hands- but she gave up just as quick when his hand grabbed the side of her hand. The blonde’s eyes widened in realization. Shinosuke’s blood may had been the one staining the both of them at that very moment but she knew well enough what was going to happen next. Already feeling that thing inside him stirring up and demanding blood to heal itself, Shinosuke bared his now pointy teeth. The woman apparently decided to at least die defiantly.

“Fucking bast-“

Just like the melons he had batted that one time when he had visited the beach alongside his adoptive family, the Burier’s head exploded into red bits when he slammed it against the nearby wall.

Funny thing, concluded Shinosuke. He drank red juice after both smashings.

***

Liked ripped straight out of the set of some Hollywood B-rated horror flick, the insides of the cathedral could captivate a man’s mind with how marvelously gloomy they were. Aside from the few torches lined up along the distant walls, the only source of lighting was the moon, in the rare instances the clouds parted enough for it to peak through the painted windows. Lined along the lone aisle in the center were the two equally shadowed wide rows of seemingly empty seats.

And straight ahead, just above the altar, were perching the tall statues of the seven archangels, with weapons raised towards the skies. Their valiant shouts, no doubt meant to rile up the humans against the forces of evil, were frozen on their lips, never to be actually spoken. Just below them, in front of the altar, was kneeling a lone girl, moonlight engulfing her body. Her voice remained nothing but an unintelligible whisper, even when one took into account the impressive acoustics of the building.

Albus shook his head at how clichéd was the scene before him, the lustrous fiery mane of his current body mirroring the movement. The echo of his steps went seemingly unheard by the girl below the altar. Only the still faces of the seven angels looming above seemed to observe him with interest. The sculptor had done his job a tad too well, concluded Albus.

Having finally reached the front row, the patriarch of the Grimaldi gleefully took a seat and bore his eyes, colored the eerie inhuman hue of green signature of his family, into the praying girl. Moved by the will of lifelong habits, the lithe hands the Grimaldi now counted as his own moved to straighten the hem of the pristine white dress he had chosen for his current body. Usually, Albus paid no heed to such little things which lingered on for some time after taking over a new host, but this time around they served only as remainders how humiliating it had been to take Alyss’s as his next body.

Nonchalant as he had tried to make it seem, losing both his prime candidates had been a harsh hit. His son-in-law, as tough as he certainly was, considering that the former Executor had dragged himself out of the Halls and actually learned the art of the Grimaldi, just wasn’t blood enough to be a stable host. The only body capable of being properly lived in could only be a Grimaldi one- otherwise Albus would have been forced to change his host every month or so. Alyss had been the best choice left, as the youngest Grimaldi at his disposal. Sadly, being compatible meant also being strong enough to try and reject him on instinct. And so, Albus Grimaldi was stuck in the body of the girl, unable to even mold it into his own image in fear of quickening the rejection. Still, it would certainly last long enough, even if he used his magecraft extensively. He considered the Grail already in his pocket- but, as it had been already noted, the hit had been harsh.

To his pride, that is.

Which he fully intended to pay back upon meeting his grandson.

Taking brother-sisterly love to the next level was a tradition in their family, one meant to keep their blood as pure as possible. But even before the twins could be nudged into such a direction, the boy had showed signs of protectiveness and possessiveness towards Alyss, which had highly amused the patriarch of the family. Half the reason Albus had declared that the girl was going to be sent down into the Feasting Halls had been to see Glen’s reaction. His grandson hadn’t disappointed him the least. Albus had been almost willing to let the transgression slide and let him out after the second week but since Glen had began to show such interesting methods of dealing with his predicament, the eldest Grimaldi had decided to see how things would develop. Patriarch or not, Albus had known he would be pushing it if he had kept the kid inside for more than a month but it had sill been painful when he had been forced to cut his little experiment short.

After all, Glen was such an interesting object to observe! There were few people like him nowadays- even among the Grimaldis themselves, whom Albus considered to have grown stagnant after his successes had basically removed any obstacle in their way. But Glen showed some weird kind of determination eerily reminiscent of Albus’s own when he had been his age- and so he had let him run off to the Scintillares and live a little. The older brother was considered the prodigy, be it on a technicality or not, but the youngest Grimaldi had already shown that he could do wonders with his magecraft when his sheer stubbornness was added into the mix.

And so, Albus had spent the last decade more or less preparing for the Sixth Grail War. Two hundred years ago, when he had been still in that stage of youth he still found dick joke funny, his warped sense of humor had cost him a marriage which would have given him a place as a Master. And then the Einzberns had botched the whole thing during the Third War, making both the Fourth and Fifth much too dangerous for his plan. It was after the rather explosive end of the Fourth War that he had decided to take matters into his own hands.

But since patience was perhaps the only virtue Albus Grimaldi possessed, and in abundance no less, he had waited for someone else to clear up the mess first. Taking unnecessary risks with a tainted Grail had never been in his plans. By then he had already lived for five hundred long years, scheming and waiting for his plan to be fully set in motion. Not that the waiting was that hard to endure. Quite the contrary- the world was always in motion, with each and every decade more and more new things were discovered and humanity in general was just so damn interesting to observe! Unlike some beings who were as old or older than him, Albus had never embraced the idea of living in the past and scoffing at every new tendency which popped up. No, the Grimaldi carefully tasted the feel of each and every age and century he lived through, living his life as if each and every minute could have been his last.

After all, why would one want to live forever if he didn’t have fun? If anything, there was one guilty pleasure Albus had fully embraced over the years. And that was to always act on it when he inwardly asked himself ‘what would happen if?’.

The only thing which mattered to him aside from that was his plan, the plan which would eventually turn into reality that promise left unsaid half a millennia ago. And now that less than a month was left to that faithful moment, Albus was fully intent on having a blast with this War.

Glen was certainly the pawn which held in store the most surprises. As he had expected, his grandson had been chosen as worthy by the Grail. The interesting part was how far he could get into the War before he was taken out or his Crest eventually consumed him, even if it was only due to Albus being so near. The Grimaldi wondered how to make it even more appealing to observe…

Perhaps the boy had someone dear to him who could be kidnapped or killed? Forcing Glen into a situation where his choice was between using the Crest and letting a loved one die would be a most amusing thing to watch, concluded Albus. Especially if the boy had gotten as close to someone else as he had been to Alyss once. Of course, there was still the inherent fun in merely meeting his grandson while in this body. Should he reveal himself and watch him fly into a fit of rage? Or had the boy grown weaker, which would mean that he would just fall to his knees and stare in shock? Then again, perhaps pretending he was the real Alyss, forced to come alongside her grandfather for the War would be the better choice? This would surely heighten the shock value when Glen eventually learned the truth. He had to be really careful at playing the part in that case, considering how attuned the boy had been to his opposite sex mirror image. One wrong step and Glen would immediately realize what was going on.

So absorbed was Albus in his daydreaming, that he had forgotten why he had sat down near the girl in the first place. Returning his wandering gaze back to her figure, the magus strained his ears to make out the words rapidly leaving her lips. Soon enough, it became rather apparent that what she was saying certainly wasn’t a prayer.

“The deepest crimson, like a blossoming rose,” muttered the girl, seemingly to no one. “That’s the color of the Moon after his accession. The Twenty-eight, He Who Morphs the Seams of the Living and the Dead, Heaven’s Reaper- his titles are his very being, a lone king sitting atop his throne of flesh and bones. The seas are red with blood, the snow is ashes… all is one and one is all in his embrace…”

The string of ominous predictions kept on pouring out of the girl’s mouth but Albus refused to listen to her ramblings anymore. Predicting the future was a fickle thing- time wasn’t a river which flowed only in one single direction so that people could read the flow correctly. It was more akin to a tree which branched out at every single instance, when even the smallest of actions led to the greatest of changes. The things she was seeing had no guarantee whatsoever of happening.

Still, hers was a rather rare gift to have indeed, Albus admitted and glanced at the wide-open eyes of the girl. The brightest purple, like amethysts, they could see through the vague twists and turns of the future… but could be just as much as a curse as they were a blessing. Bored of waiting, the magus wondered what to do with the girl to pass his time. Darker than even her nun’s robes, straight raven-black hair fell down the girl’s back. Her face was rather pretty and she did seem to have a shapely body under the robes. Almost a shame she would waste away nature’s gifts serving the Church. Although as far as anyone knew, the Buriers’ regiments were rather… lax in most regards.

“So she’s the one who saw the Aylesburries attempt to call forth the irregular Servant, huh?” suddenly asked Albus and looked over his shoulder at the aged priest who had sneaked nearby under the veil of the darkness.

Luciano frowned at his unwanted ally, his stern eyes drilling proverbial holes into Albus’s. The hand clutching his ornate cane’s handle was visibly shaking in anger, no matter how much the priest was trying to hide it.

“How did you get in here?” sternly asked the grey-haired man, somehow managing not to shout.

“Through the front door,” answered Albus with the voice of his granddaughter, making the most innocent expression he could manage. Fluttering his eyelashes had apparently been the breaking point, because the magus was ready to swear he had seen steam escape from the priest’s nostrils.

“I’ll give you one last chance before I exorcize you right here and now,” said Luciano. “How did you get in here?”

Letting out an irritated sigh, Albus decided to just answer the question and postpone the opportunity to paint his white dress red with blood for some other time. After all, he needed a living Luciano to talk business with him.

“That boy you’ve ordered to guard the perimeter constantly walks in and out of the bounded fields. The sword he carries emanates enough prana for me not to be noticed if I just hide my presence a little and walk through the barrier at the same time as he does.”

“How-“

“Hard for him to notice a pool of blood right around his feet in this dreadful weather, y’know,” cut him off Albus and shrugged. “If anything, I suggest you send out your little knight to hunt some Masters instead of keeping a very impatient young man around for guard duty. What, you’re afraid someone will try stealing the Grail? Hah, that’s rich. I guess you don’t trust your abilities enough anymore, old man.”

“You’re the last one I want to hear this from, demonic scum,” spat out the priest. “What do you want with me?”

Hopping back onto his legs, hands behind his back, Albus leaned forward and smiled at his ally mischievously.

“Just a friendly chat, old man, that’s all. This place is so gloomy and boring anyway,” said the magus with Alyss’s voice.

“About what in particular? I wouldn’t like wasting your precious time here so do ask and then you can be free to go away. Immediately.”

“Man, you’re such a depressing geezer,” shot back the redhead, but upon noticing the priest’s glare, cut straight to business. “What happened to that opportunistic Indy-wannabe you hired? I figured a magus willing to work for the Church wouldn’t be the most trustworthy of partners, but he just fell off the face of the Earth after he got you those Grail fragments from Japan. I thought you said he wanted to participate in the War as well.”

“He did,” answered Luciano as evenly as he could and stroked his thin goatee. “But I had already distributed the class cards back in Europe when I let out the rumor that the War is going to take place here, so I told him the last known location of the one he wanted.”

“Which was?” drawled out Albus.

“The Berserker card,” grimly replied the aged priest. “As far as I know he traced it to that mage informant who played babysitter for your grandson these past ten years. After that, he just vanished.”

“Perhaps he’s just hiding,” suggested the redhead and shrugged his shoulders. “Berserker would be the one Servant who is the easiest to track back to his Master’s hideout so he’s probably waiting until the others kill each other off a bit. His Servant should technically be stronger or on par with Saber- a smart man wouldn’t risk scaring the other Masters so much that they team up against him.”

“That is a legitimate possibility,” agreed Luciano. “What is interesting, however, is that my associate apparently planned for more than just having a fair shot at the Grail. You see, it seems he didn’t give me all the shards of the Grail he managed to gather. One of them he kept for himself- and implanted it inside his daughter.”

The redhead whistled and the sound ended up magnified a dozen times by the acoustics of the cathedral. The kneeling girl behind the scheming duo just kept on droning on and on, still lost inside her future-seeing trance.

“So Berserker’s Master has got himself a Lesser Grail? I presume that you are doing something to fix this, considering two active Lesser Grails splitting the Servants’ souls between themselves would lead to nothing. We need only one start-up key, preferably the one in our own hands,” pointed out Albus and wagged his finger playfully at his accomplice. “Geez, old man, you should know that already!”

The redhead thought it was a small miracle that the priest didn’t start whacking him with his cane right then and there. Instead, Luciano just grumbled and mumbled before he answered.

“It turns out Mr. Reinsviel’s interest in the Grail is more than a passing one. I did a more thorough background check, this time going back a few generations, and it turns out he is descended from an exile of the Einzbern family who fled to Hartcroft at around the end of the Third War. That daughter of his, she’s an Einzbern-style homunculus, modified inside the womb of her mother. With the shard inside her, the girl may even be chosen over our Lesser Grail by the Greater One. Part of the Saint of Winter lives on in shards we used for the construction, after all.”

“I must say I’m somewhat impressed,” said Albus and then flashed a wide smile at his accomplice. “But it’s mainly you whom he outwitted, considering that you were in charge of setting up the Greater and Lesser Grails.”

Somehow yet again holding back his seething fury, Luciano asked:

“What I want to know is how on Earth we can gather enough prana to make a stable connection to Akasha, even if we possess the Lesser Grail. The reason I had to create the class cards is precisely because our Grail was much too weak to summon them without a solid template. Even if this place is a layline convergence point we can’t hope to-“

“Simple,” said Albus upon cutting off the priest. “We’re not summoning it here.”

Several seconds passed in silence.

“What?”

“I said that we won’t establish the connection here. When the day comes we’ll move the Greater Grail to a place specifically created for that purpose four hundred years ago.”

Once again, the aged priest could only blink in surprise.

“What?”

“You have a map around here somewhere?” asked Albus and looked around as if he expected one to pop up out of thin air.

With an irritated sigh, Luciano motioned to his accomplice to follow him to his office in the back of the cathedral. After some rummaging through the cabinets, the priest eventually unfolded a city map atop the desk.

“So,” began Albus and picked up the nearest pen. “You know that we need a Servant to interact with the Grail, hence why you will make a Contract with some Masterless one using the leftover Command Spells you have from the last War,” clarified the redhead and noted towards Luciano’s robed right hand. “The other thing you know is that this place is one of the main layline convergence points in the city. The rest are here, here and here,” continued with his explanation the Grimaldi while encircling the Skylance, the Skyspire and the Skyarrows. Add in the bounded fields and seals placed around all over the island’s borders so that the prana would be bounced back into it instead of escaping out and the Vimur channel, which is the main layline ‘artery’ of Hartcroft, and you get… this,” concluded Albus and presented the map back to Luciano.

“The island-wide seal meant to spread all the prana around the city equally, with four main convergence points in the cardinal directions and a main artery through the middle so no one can have a monopoly. At least that’s what the Second Owner of the land thinks. In reality, I managed to persuade the Escalus that since they were the ones who rerouted all the laylines towards the island, they deserved the best hotspot of them all… without the other founders knowing, of course. And so along the Caspar, Melchior and Balthazar bridges were forged a couple of more laylines, which, along with the ones who follow the roughly crescent shape of the two main districts, hook up with all others and converge at one single, all-controlling point riiight here!”

Jamming his finger at the middle of the Vimur channel, Albus covered almost the whole patch of artificial land that was representing Persephone’s Grove Park.

“The position of the laylines… the whole city,” muttered the priest, the hand clutching his cane once again shaking.

“Is one large-scale copy of the seal which I will use to open the hole to the Root. We don’t need the seventh Servant to be sacrificed. At the moment of activation, every single person, every single oddity which has gathered here over the last four hundred years, will be used as fuel for the Grail. You better wish fast, Head Cardinal,” said Albus and smiled as innocently as he could at his accomplice. “Your connection to the Grail through your Servant and Command Spells won’t keep you alive forever.”

“I’d prefer if you refrained from addressing me with my proper title here,” gruffly said Luciano Alterigia. “You don’t know who could be listening.”

“What, you don’t trust your own Buriers?” asked Albus and raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Or maybe you haven’t told them yet that they, too, will end up as fuel for the Grail? How many of them even know you are even here anyway?”

“Two,” replied the priest. “Michael guards the Greater Grail while we keep it here and Lily acts as mission control for the others while they are off hunting Masters and Servants and thinking this is just a routine assignment meant to test if they are truly worthy to be full-fledged Buriers.”

“Sucks to be them, I guess,” replied Albus with a shrug. “I’ll be out of town the moment I finish transferring the Greater Grail to its proper place.”

“Won’t you take that spawn of yours back with you? You’re family after all,” asked the priest.

“Nah, I want to see how far Glen can go,” replied Albus and shook his head. “If anything, I’d advise you to target him first. What with those ominous predictions your little Lily was chanting just now.”

“Heaven’s Reaper, the one who morphs the seams of the living and the dead,” echoed Luciano and eyed his accomplice suspiciously. “This is you most likely, considering the kid can’t even use his Crest without it killing him from the inside out.”

“Who knows?” countered the redhead and shrugged nonchalantly. “I wouldn’t put much faith in her predictions anyway. The Eyes of Absolute Precognition surely can see a potential future, but you never know what kinds of choices have to be taken to reach or prevent the outcome she sees.”

“The main targets for now are Reinsviel and Berserker along with his pet Grail and Saber’s Master, by virtue of possessing the supposedly strongest Servant,” stated the priest. “And now would you finally leave? Just looking at you makes me sick.”

After a casual wave for goodbye, the redheaded mage walked out of the room, whistling.

[Spinach]

Whoa. Lot of plot going on there. Alexander is an interesting badass... The Harways? Seraph? Oh my. Shinosuke, as expected, was a total ass kicker. That was awesome, and completely unexpected. And the big dialogue between Albus and Luciano really helped clear up some information about the premise, how a Grail War occurred here, etc. Very interesting chapter, sir.

[Dragoon]

Wow, I was gone for a few days, and there's two new EPIC chapters already. This keeps getting better and better. Awesome, dude. Awesome...

Someone should make a Trope Page of it. I wish I could, but it's gonna take me awhile and that I'm gonna need a lot of help there.

[Aladar]

Sadly, for all my trope-related knowledge, I'm not an official troper and besides, I don't think an author should make their own page, 'cause it's like really blatant self-promotion.

But if any good samaritan really does try, I'd be more than glad to help out by telling them the tropes I had in mind when creating some of the characters and the setting and plot and stuff. No spoilers, tho.

[Caster]

Hope you got my PM, but an interesting chapter. Glad it's continuing. Was worried I'd miss out on new stuff. Needs more Rider though, he's so awesome. :P