The Manhattan Project II

[Mattias]

Huh, massive inbreeding. I never would have guessed.


I hope Lancer isn't who I'm thinking of, because I hate that guy, but Lancer's an OK Servant.

[Five_X]

Johana is quite lovely, indeed. Of course, even this isn't entirely showing how "lovely" she is. :3

He reminds me of those loyal-to-a-fault retainers that appear so often in medieval Japanese literature. In another time and place, he could have been one of the 47 ronin.

TOO MUCH SHOGUN 2

[Five_X]

Five promises, FIVE DELIVERS. Yes, folks, we've got a new chapter of MPII hot and ready for you, and it's awesome and cool and hopefully you'll like it! In this chapter, we get to see more of Saber being cool, so it's one that might end up being popular. It picks up right after the end of the last chapter.

Anyways, I hope all you people enjoy this chapter! I feel kinda proud of this one, actually.

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

CHAPTER LXXII

James rubbed the back of his hand, still wondering if Saber's request had been for better or for worse. Regardless of his own thoughts, though, he couldn't deny the fire that seemed to blaze inside her, her spirit equally unquenchable.


“Now, Master, here we are to reclaim victory, and to do that we must remove the mistakes of the past.” She held the tip of her sword to the horizon, where the sun was only just beginning to set.


A curious look on his face, James asked her, “but isn't Moctezuma defeated? I heard that his army was destroyed along with his city.”


“Not that mistake, Master. That was not so much a mistake as it was a plan that has now seen itself to conclusion. The mistake I speak of now is the Japanese general in our midst, that Oda Nobunaga. He is a fierce warrior, and he has an understated cleverness, but he has been like a knife stuck in my foot, hindering me lately in rather unenviable ways. This is not the situation I wish to be in, and at the same time Nobunaga is a minor target; he is not viewed with much respect compared to Alexander, Hannibal or Temujin, so striking him down will not arouse much notoriety. Thus, we can get rid of Nobunaga, and the rest of the generals here will not see me as much more of a threat as before; I am in the fortunate position of being seen as a poor contender; no one but you knows that I am formidable and capable once again.” She smiled, sheathing her sword and turning to her Master.


“Well, if that's what you think is best. I don't think that guy has a Master, so there's not much I can do here.” James just shrugged, checking for a moment the spot of land that Saber had been surveying with her sword.


Her thoughts not much different, Saber also shrugged. “When the time comes, perhaps you will think of something. The ability to come up with intelligent plans in the chaos of battle is far more useful than being able to do the same outside of battle.”


“I'll leave that to you, then. I'm... not exactly used to killing people, you know.” Turning to the legions that remained vigilant and loyal before their general, James seemed to wince.


“Not exactly impressive, Master, but I take what I can get. In previous fights you seemed to perform well enough, but if my evaluation of Nobunaga is correct, then perhaps avoiding conflict is best for you. Let battle be my domain, then!” She let out a hearty laugh, and focused herself on her army, the conversation pointedly over. James felt a little disappointment seep into him when he realized how little he could do, but Saber taking charge for once was something he finally could enjoy.


So, with their preparations complete, Saber led her force across the vast plain, walking amongst them in their front ranks, with James trailing behind. There was no place for him here; he came to know that all too well.

-- --

Just as it had been when it first arose from the rock and grass of its sector of the desert, the castle of Nobunaga stood as a sentinel of the land, staring out to the dimming horizon at any that dared to approach. From its peak, its lord Oda Nobunaga had a view of all his self-claimed territory, and he sat in his makeshift throne with his arms crossed. His magnanimous, sweeping gaze fell upon a cloud of dust; the last rays of sunlight shone off of forged armour, and he knew that the time for bloodshed had finally arrived.


An aide near him handed him not a finely-crafted sword but a gun, an old and ornamented matchlock, the likes of which few had seen before.


“Let us meet them, my soldiers!” he cried to the people gathered below in the courtyard of the mighty keep. “Just as the clans of Honshu bowed at our feet when we spread like fire across the land, so too will the generals here realize just who has a sword to their throats. They ignore the warriors of the Oda clan, and I fear that they will only understand their own weakness when they are nailed to their own walls and banners for the birds to devour!”


A cheer roared up amongst the crowd, and the soldiers picked up their arms – swords, spears, bows and even matchlock guns – with glorious zeal.


They were not the most renowned of warriors, nor were they the most skilled, but their commander was their brain, and they were the sword he held at his side, ready to strike wherever and whenever he needed.


The distant army became close, and with a lordly stride Oda Nobunaga met them, away from his castle. There he was, in the midst of his front ranks, a nobleman beside peasants, the people that swore to fight for him to the end. It was as if he had cast a spell upon them all, chaining them to his will. Something, at least, was unnatural about him, his eyes a sharp red, his voice more booming than normal for a mortal man, and his very figure giving off some unearthly radiance.


“Nobunaga, is it?” his challenger called out, her voice unmistakable. “A siege would be terribly boring for me, so I have to thank you for coming out to meet me. Do you have any sorts of... rituals, or the like, that you practice before battle? I would hate to interrupt such a thing, now.”


Saber wore a sly smile, her drawn sword a contrast to Nobunaga's musket.


The great lord shook his head. “No, no, that would interrupt us, wouldn't it? I could hardly imagine anything worse!” He laughed, his expression finally turning serious as he levelled it upon Saber once more, the weight of it nearly palpable. “I never cared for your attentions, Saber, but if you will attack me today, know that you have made an enemy. Only those who stand behind me will be alive in the hours to come; the wrath of Nobunaga will strike you down, and not a single survivor will be left of your rabble. In the end you will beg for my mercy, and I will give it to you by allowing an honourable death at the edge of my sword, your neck failing before its steel. Mercy and honour are important in battle, aren't they, Saber? I think that you would agree.”


Her eyes narrowed, Saber judged the man from afar, weathering his threats without care. “Please, I am not Saber.”


Some confusion showed on Nobunaga's face, and he held out his arm, preventing his front line of peasant-soldiers from firing their muskets quite yet.


She saw that mark of confusion, and let out her own laugh, holding her shield out and in line with the soldiers she had summoned to battle. She took a deep breath; this was her moment of triumph, and nothing would spoil it. Not all the armies of all the world could stop her now, and she wouldn't break before this mere warlord. He was nothing to her, and she wanted him to know that.


“I am not Saber; I am Caesar!”


In Nobunaga's hand was a small coin, and he scoffed. A flick of his thumb sent the coin flying into the air, flipping end over end, and when it reached the ground it fell not as one coin, but as one hundred, and every last one of them faced heads-up.


“Okehazama!” Nobunaga shouted, a broad, wild grin on his face smiled, and with his words and a wave of his hands, all the coins disappeared.


He had seen the Roman lines advancing as he went through with his unannounced ritual, the front line still one hundred metres away, and he sneered. Retreating into the ranks of his men, his tall helmet was still visible;. his movement was masked by an echo of cracking gunfire and the resulting smoke cloud; he drank deep the scent of freshly burnt powder, smelling a certain strength in it that nothing else could match.


“Men! Lock shields!” The shouted order came moments before the first line of Japanese infantry fired their weapons; the Roman legionaries held firm, overlapping the edges of their shields, holding themselves together, weathering the first hail of bullets. Lead shot pierced the wood of most shields, tearing through the armour, yet Rome's finest stood still, only a few succumbing in the first moments of the battle.


They followed their general forward, both her defence and the expression she wore implacable. Saber marched ahead, closing the gap between the two armies.


The second rank of infantry opened fire ahead, and more Romans fell dead, their armour struck through as though it hadn't even been there. The first rank was reloading, and in the small gap between each rank kneeling to let the one behind fire, the legionaries readied their pila, and tossed the light and deadly javelins into the third rank of peasant soldiers. The appearance of the Roman line was impressive and fearsome, a whole wall of trained soldiers who had weathered more battles than any of those under the command of Nobunaga. Though the smell of gunpowder and the sound of the muskets' shot was strange to them, the Romans pressed forward with their uniform line, men from behind replacing any in front that had fallen.


Just as the matchlock infantry were recovering from the shock of the javelins, the shields and swords of the legionaries crashed down upon them, trapping them between the red shields and the spearman that were to replace them. They hadn't been organized well enough, and a mass melee soon began, a glorified shoving match with the peasants unable to press forward or retreat.


Nobunaga's hand was forced; he revealed himself when the fighting was thickest, and Saber singled him out in a moment.


“You really think you can win this, Saber?” he mocked, his musket locked in his hands. “You've lost already, but you keep fighting! This all reminds me of my younger days, and you display the same unpredictability!” The wooden body of his weapon blocked a first strike from Saber's gladius, and Nobunaga almost elegantly stepped backwards.


“Why should I care what you think, Nobunaga?” She scoffed, twirling her sword in hand. “I killed enough barbarians in my lifetime, and you are yet another to be added to that list.”


Nobunaga didn't let himself be struck by that comment; he just laughed at the woman's persistence. “Then, I'll show you why you should care; your ignorance will kill you!”


As Saber stepped back to ready herself for another strike, Nobunaga used the distance between them to his advantage. He slipped behind a few of his own soldiers, and Saber was forced to close in on him, charging forwards to make up for her weapon's lack of reach. She knew that she could defeat him with ease in melee combat, but he was slippery – she had to make this fight more enclosed, so that the warlord couldn't just step away.


Her need to rush forward was exactly what Nobunaga had planned for, and he aimed straight at her, the barrel of his musket pointed to her chest.


“The Fated Storm – Tanegashima!”


Nobunaga fired a shot from his ornate gun, and it struck Saber like any other – but then, its true effects became obvious.


As the musket fired, a gust of hurricane-force wind blasted out, forming a wall that pushed back Saber and all those near her; Saber was knocked off of her feet and sent flying, crashing through he troops and onto her back, her bones creaking from the fall. She grimaced as she stood on her feet once more, parts of her armour and shield dented.


She cast aside her shield, holding her gladius in one hand as she stepped through the ranks of her disorganized legions, searching for wherever Nobunaga could be.


Just then, she heard a war cry from the side; far away, on her left flank, a force of cavalry struck the exposed side of her soldiers with a forceful charge, taking them off-guard and slaughtering dozens in but a moment. Her army was fighting a battle on two fronts, and the forward lines seemed to be weakening, the peasant spearmen somehow fending off and even beating her veterans.


Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of her Master; he was secure in the middle of the legions, having created a wall of solid ice to stop the torrential wind just as it rolled over the army, saving some hundreds; Saber smiled upon noting that.


More importantly, though, a revelation came to her: those coins that Nobunaga seemed to be playing with were far more than what they may have seemed. He invoked a Noble Phantasm at the outset, and something about it changed the way her fought; his capabilities should have been far below those of the mighty Caesar, but somehow he put up a worthy fight. Left unchecked, his victory would be bloody but certain – exactly the way he liked it.


In battle, if a general lacks strength, they will use skill; lacking both of those, they will use luck, but no true general relies solely on chance or divine favour to determine the outcome of their wars.


Nobunaga, though, was a rare exception.


Saber saw him again, cutting apart Roman legionaries with his curved sword, evading strikes meant to kill him as if they were made by amateurs.


Her feet kicked off the ground and she burst into a sprint, aiming herself towards an unsuspecting Nobunaga. In normal circumstances, this would surely strike him, as his back was turned and he was engaged in a fight already. Every advantage, from a technical perspective, was on Saber's side as she made her play, but reality had something else in store for her.


She rushed past her soldiers and right at Nobunaga, only for her swing to go wide, making her off-balance for a key second. His sword struck at her silver armour, not quite able to pierce through, but hitting her with a solid blow that knocked the wind out of her.


Faster than Nobunaga could react, Saber steadied herself again and faced him, prepared for his attack. She was open for a counter, with no defence but to dodge.


He gripped his sword in two hands and swung upwards, aiming for her less-protected arm; he struck true, and her shield arm was cut, a line of red staining her skin. She winced at the pain, and tried to thrust forward, getting a hit on Nobunaga before he could finish the lengthy follow-through to his heavy, risky strike.


Yet, when she made her move, her sword came up just too short, the tip not even scratching his armour or the clothes he wore, let alone his flesh.


“Enjoying yourself, now? I told you that victory is impossible for you! What good is a sword if it cannot strike its target? It's worthless, of course; that is why the best defence is to avoid getting hit altogether! Maybe if fortune hadn't deserted you, Saber, you could win today!” His eyes a sharp red, Nobunaga pressed his advantage, the swings of his sword that normally would have been near-misses being somehow corrected to cut right into Saber's flesh, exactly where Nobunaga wished to wound her.


After a few minutes of fighting, the legion had dwindled, and Saber was bloodied, unable to avoid Nobunaga's attacks in close range, and unable also to get any strikes on him whatsoever.


The heat of the desert was getting to her, her body covered in sweat along with the blood that matted her hair and clothes; still she fought on, and she could tell that Nobunaga was affected all the same by the weather and the combat. Though he always hit and never himself could be hit, he could be worn down. He was, in the end, still a man and a warrior – and it was there that Saber's sole advantage now existed.


“You think you can fight me to capitulation?” Saber sneered as she spoke, yelling over the din of combat so that her foe could clearly hear her. “Never! If you want me to die, then I will die standing, like any noble Roman!”


She could see Nobunaga clench his teeth, his grip slightly looser on his sword, yet his strikes remaining ever precise. Sweat dripped down his brow, but he pressed on.


Saber rolled to the side, avoiding a blow entirely; as incredible as Nobunaga's manipulation of chance could be, he could not make the impossible a reality, as that was beyond anyone's jurisdiction. If he swung his sword with no chance at all to strike Saber, he would not hit her, but as soon as he had the smallest chance to hit, his body would be guided along with every perfect movement to make his blade cut exactly where it needed to. In that way, his strength was still his weakness.


With her own skill, Saber continued to stay just out of range, offering a few fake attacks on the man when he left himself open, just to seem like she wasn't entirely avoiding combat.


As great as Nobunaga was, he could not endure forever; his desire to see Saber dead grew along with his frustration, and his eyes seemed more piercing than ever, his movements more sluggish but at the same time with more ferocity behind them. He was relying on chance alone to win, and Saber was turning that against him, making it so that he was fighting an uphill battle. Luck was not a factor in attrition, and there Saber could have the upper hand.


“Die!” he screamed, a lick of flame rolling up the edge of his blade. “You think that you can fight so well against Oda Nobunaga? You do not know the power I wield! You would be crushed like so many insects beneath my strength; do you dare tempt the ire of the Demon King of the Sixth Heaven? None who have done so have triumphed, fool!”


His rage was becoming nearly inarticulate, his frustration wordless as he was unable to wound Saber any further.


So, he gave up his evasive luck, letting the essence of hellfire and bloodlust overcome him. His eyes glowed a deeper shade of red, and fire coated the whole length of his sword, fluctuating with his emotion. Finally, the mad side to the clever general had been revealed, his patience at an end.


He made a dash as Saber, closing the distance between them in less than a second, his aura burning the grass that grew on the ground, the dirt turning hot and black under his boots. He held up his sword, trying to end this with one stroke, seeing Saber as a simple target before him. The flames rose higher, engulfing the area, scorching the soldiers that stood too near, but Saber didn't even sweat. The heat was nothing to her, and even the demonic power that coursed through his body could not overcome the strength of the legendary Caesar.


Nobunaga nearly leapt off the ground at the end of his charge, bringing his sword down on Saber as he tried to cleave her in half.


She stepped aside, spinning about until she face him; her sword cut through his side as he passed, a would that could not heal. Nobunaga barely paid any attention to the scar or his blood, even as stains of red spilled onto the ground, sizzling as they struck flame-hot earth.


Nobunaga let out a yell, no intelligent meaning behind it, his mind focused on destroying Saber. He maintained control of his intelligence, but the need to acquire victory overcame all of that, and he almost felt some shame as he turned to face Saber, her sword bearing down on him. She struck him in the heart with Crocea Mors, then drew her sword from his ruptured heart, only to stab his stomach, running him through; her fist beat on his jaw, breaking it instantly, and using her raw strength and leverage she pushed him to his knees, her weight on the pommel of her sword. Nobunaga's tight grasp on his sword failed him, and he succumbed for one moment too long; he was at Saber's mercy.


“So... you defeat me?” Barely able to move at all, Nobunaga nonetheless craned his neck about to see the battlefield. Though the Japanese armies were carrying victory before, now they were being cut down by the refreshed Romans; peasants routed from the battlefield, trying to make their way back into the castle even as it was battered by siege weapons from a great distance. Desperation lingered in the air, but for Saber, there was a sense of victory she could almost taste.


“You defeated yourself, Nobunaga.” Saber looked down at him with disdain. “A general should not play a single card hoping to draw a winning hand; he should see the way in which his whole hand can claim him victory, examining his situation and only letting the dice roll when that is all that is left. Chance is the refuge of fools and the unskilled; you are a disgrace to all those who lead armies, Nobunaga, and you should carry that shame for the rest of your existence. Let it be known that you failed to follow the tenets of tactics and strategy, and so you lost.”


He coughed up blood, the flames around him dissipating along with his life. “You... you lie! Your victory was only because you struck at the right spot at the right time, that you happened to have had a fortunate draw, that the gods favoured you for a moment, ignoring me – luck can make even the mighty collapse to their knees and taste death.”


“Not quite. I won because of skill and talent, because of what made me a true hero in the first place. I relied on my sheer ability and force of will to attain victory, and I succeeded. A triumph of the will can defeat even the most favoured man in the world. If I believe that I can do anything, is there anything that I cannot do?” Her smile showed nothing but confidence; Nobunaga knew from that alone that he was doomed.


Saber's smile turned to a contemptuous frown, and she ripped her sword from Nobunaga's gut, just a moment later taking off his head with a single, bloody strike. Stains of red dripped along the whole of her blade, but she didn't care. The man was dead, and his army and castle were destroyed.


Instead of collapsing dead, Nobunaga faded away, seeming to disappear into smoke and ashes; in seconds there was nothing else of him, and so the general Nobunaga had finally been overcome.


For all his luck and all his ruthlessness, he could not face down the willpower and utter determination that Saber possessed. He was ambitious and arrogant himself, but Saber was something else; her very existence commanded respect, and she truly believed that nothing was impossible if she put her mind to it. That was her true trump card: the insurmountable will and self-confidence she possessed, not a simple display of ego but a genuine belief in her own prowess and skill.


Like an anomaly that was not meant to be, everything that had marked Nobunaga's existed withered away, disappearing on the wind, never to be seen again.


Stillness fell across the battlefield, the noise gone, the fighting over, the traces of warfare and bloody battle gone like a rumour; Nobunaga was no more, and the calmness was almost unnerving, but at the same time it had a silent awe to it.


James, seeing Saber ahead, noted Nobunaga's fate as being odd for a Servant; most would stay in the world, their bodies remaining as the last link to their Masters, the shell that they occupied dying as their spirits moved on, occupying a space in the Grail, the great engine of the Manhattan Project. Perhaps things were different in a reality marble? James hardly had the time or resources to think about that, though.


He could only pay attention to Saber, standing bloodied but glorious, victory hers at last.


She turned to him with a proud smile, and in that moment she had truly become Caesar, the great general and hero of old.

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

Saber being awesome, and finally someone dies! Alas, Nobunaga, you have served your purpose! You made a decent-ish foil for Saber in there, but you were doomed to die. I kind of wish I'd gotten to show more of your Noble Phantasms instead of just having them show once or twice, but he has plenty and they're hard to fit into GD without messing up my outlines or the overall pacing.

I hope you all liked reading it, and prepare yourselves for the next Invocations chapter, probably coming out this weekend! Please, tell me if you're having trouble catching up, because if you are then... well, there's not much I can do, but I'll apologize and give you some time later to catch up!

Can you believe it? Three chapters left in GD! Two or so Invocations chapters! Yes, get hyped!

[Bloble]

While this chapter was nice, I feel as if it's somehow attacking me...

[Five_X]

While this chapter was nice, I feel as if it's somehow attacking me...

Nobunaga as stand-in for Bloble, now where are your magic demon powers? Show us your TRUE FORM!

[Bloble]

Nobunaga as stand-in for Bloble, now where are your magic demon powers? Show us your TRUE FORM!

Sorry Five, haven't unlocked my RM yet. Come back in 10 years when my avatar is Iskander.

[Mattias]

Saber being awesome, and finally someone dies!

Amen! Now, who else is not long for this world....

[JxK]

Ah, finally caught up. And I must say it's nice to see Caesarko's change for the better recently. I'm wondering though why Caesarko doesn't have any archers in her legions. Didn't most Roman legions have at least a cohort or two of mercenary archers? They would have likely saved her a good deal of grief during this battle.

[Five_X]

No matter what Saber did, she would have been mostly screwed. The arrows would have swerved to the side of the army of something, lol. Nobunaga's A++ LCK does that sorta stuff.

[Spinach]

Question 1: Remember that one forgettable scene back in old!GD with Ilse explaining stuff about herself to Filippo? If not, you'll get to read it again after this arc! Because it basically explained her magecraft, or at least part of it. I think I've got that also explained (including the very same spell she used in this chapter) in Ilse's character profile document, which I linked to long, long ago.

Question 2: Yes. Hell yes.

Roderiiiick Fontaiiine

(I'm a little tired and it's late so I'll dial back the Roderick Fontaine. Just this once)

[Five_X]

Roderiiiick Fontaiiine

(I'm a little tired and it's late so I'll dial back the Roderick Fontaine. Just this once)

FODERICK RONTAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIINNNNNEEEE

EMPEROR CHARLEMAAAAAAAAAAGNE

[Sunny]

Yay, I finally had a chance to cut the gap now that the oppressive weight of dreaded finals is gone. Very sorry for being a quiet reader for awhile. ^^; It's nice to see a Caesar you can get behind again, because it feels like it's been awhile, but the shift is both effective and very distinct now that we've gotten to that point. Welcome back, Caesarko!

As for this one, I'm definitely a bit surprised how Nobunaga's Noble Phantasms work (or seem to work) - if I am being honest, Tanegashima was a little disappointingly low-key, only because it being used once and the description of its effect being a bit terse made it hard to get much of a feel for that one.

His passive one though seemed really powerful and very novel because I wasn't expecting you to base him around luck instead of skill. The NP makes sense when you look up the battle it is named after and the, well, perfect storm of chance occurences surrounding it, but it wasn't what I was expecting of the demon king - that was definitely a very original take on him. I'd very much like to see the full NP write-ups, so I hope he gets a finished Status page soon. ^^;

[Five_X]

It's nice to see a Caesar you can get behind again

Dohohoho!

As for this one, I'm definitely a bit surprised how Nobunaga's Noble Phantasms work (or seem to work) - if I am being honest, Tanegashima was a little disappointingly low-key, only because it being used once and the description of its effect being a bit terse made it hard to get much of a feel for that one.

His passive one though seemed really powerful and very novel because I wasn't expecting you to base him around luck instead of skill. The NP makes sense when you look up the battle it is named after and the, well, perfect storm of chance occurences surrounding it, but it wasn't what I was expecting of the demon king - that was definitely a very original take on him. I'd very much like to see the full NP write-ups, so I hope he gets a finished Status page soon. ^^;

Tanegashima already has a write-up, actually; it's in Napoleon's big Overture list.

[Sunny]

Eheh, unintended, but then using a Tail Girl avatar does invite all the double entedres...

And ahh, so it is. ^^; I forgot that was in Napoleon's collection when Nobunaga used it. Looking back at it (thank you for archiving those in the first post), the really low rank explains the gloss-over of its effect as well since it really doesn't do that much. Though I wondered - is the flames and demon strength thing at the end of the fight a separate ability? It seemed like he had to seal or disable Okehazama in order to do that. Sorry for a lot of technical questions - I hate to see him go, but the mechanics and details of created Servants is a passion, so his matrix info becoming declassified is the part my curiosity looks forward to most.

It's like finally getting to unwrap a present whenever all the Servant's info is given up in fanfics and RPs. :P

[Five_X]

Eheh, unintended, but then using a Tail Girl avatar does invite all the double entedres...

And ahh, so it is. ^^; I forgot that was in Napoleon's collection when Nobunaga used it. Looking back at it (thank you for archiving those in the first post), the really low rank explains the gloss-over of its effect as well since it really doesn't do that much. Though I wondered - is the flames and demon strength thing at the end of the fight a separate ability? It seemed like he had to seal or disable Okehazama in order to do that. Sorry for a lot of technical questions - I hate to see him go, but the mechanics and details of created Servants is a passion, so his matrix info becoming declassified is the part my curiosity looks forward to most.

It's like finally getting to unwrap a present whenever all the Servant's info is given up in fanfics and RPs. :P

I think I posted up something about Nobunaga's abilities, besides Noble Phantasms; the demon thing is a result of his "Faustian Contract" skill which, at the cost of Luck and Charisma, greatly increases his Strength and Endurance, and gives him flame powers. However, getting rid of his Luck takes away a lot of his tactical cleverness, so it's really giving him the ability to be a combat monster at the price of him not being able to effectively use his greatest Noble Phantasm. Since Tanegashima is also partly based on a Luck check, that's also rendered mostly useless.

Eventually Nobunaga's profile will be posted, possibly near Christmas.

[Bloble]

Ah yes, Tanegashima.

I'll admit, of all things, I didn't expect a Noble Phantasm to end up being a Metal Gear Solid reference.

[Five_X]

Ah yes, Tanegashima.

I'll admit, of all things, I didn't expect a Noble Phantasm to end up being a Metal Gear Solid reference.

I totally was clever and hid that, though, by saying the inspiration was actually the storm that brought the Portuguese to Japan, instead of a silly video game! >.<

I am shameless.

[Five_X]

Oh shit it's an update! I'm too lazy and in a rush to write much here, so I'll just hope that you enjoyed it! For some reason I feel like going back and editing things, but I'm not sure what could be fixed... maybe your opinions will shed light on that!

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

Invocation the 19^th

The brass knob was loose, turning easily, letting the door slide open without a hitch, a breath of cooler air sweeping into the suite at the same time.


Ilse spat out a curse under her breath; it had been Filippo who had gone out last, having something to check out in the lobby of the hotel. She wondered herself why she even found that surprising at all; the man was dutiful and didn't seem to give up even when he kept saying he would, but his incompetence seemingly knew no bounds. He was useful, though, and that was that. For her part, at least, Ilse had to feign some interest and activity in their impromptu 'alliance,' and Filippo, for all his faults, was trustworthy enough – or just too weak and foolish to disobey.


Going down the hallway, getting a few odd looks as she hastily made her way about with a hefty briefcase in her hand, she passed Johana's door; Ilse could only guess that it was locked, or some spell was placed on it.


For all her faults, Ilse had to admit that Johana was crafty, and dedicated to what she did. And, perhaps Johana thought she was stronger than she really was – or truly was as good as the standards she held herself to. Nonetheless, Ilse touched her lips, still remembering that moment not so long ago; it cut through her mind for only a moment, and then she made herself forget it. Johana was strange, and certainly couldn't get around in society, and that was that. Nothing more needed to be thought on the matter.


Ilse turned her mind to the task at hand: the Russian magus and his apparent confidant had been around the area, and yet it was Ilse who was making more enemies. Between the two Soviets and the vampire, few places could be considered safe.


She shuddered; it felt like she was being encircled, with eyes watching her from all sides.


Leaving the hotel only to have another, mild shiver – this one from the weather – overcome her, Ilse noted an immediate change: the hotel, even from outside, was bright and bustling. People arrived in limousines and expensive cars, being escorted from their vehicles by diligent staff, while just a hundred feet in either direction there was dead silence; the city was finally falling asleep.


“Ah, good night for hunting...” Ilse muttered to herself, glancing left and right, then crossing the street in a jog.


There were a few people in suits and dresses, but they began to fade into the background, some hardly visible in the night with their dark clothing. Ilse watched them, but pressed ahead. When anyone and anything could be her enemy, there was nothing that could be beyond suspicion.


There was a small alleyway up ahead, a little nook between two buildings, barely wide enough for two people to pass through side-by-side. Her back to a wall, Ilse knelt sown and clicked open her briefcase, revealing the hidden rifle she had in there; she slid her hand with gentle care across its solid wooden stock and smooth metal, seeing few defects at all. She'd taken good care of it, and she always felt a boost to her confidence when she brought it out, like a nation's banner building the morale of troops gathered about it.


The alley led farther ahead, deeper into the city and, most importantly, farther from the lights of the hotel. People still walked about, but they were mostly headed for their homes; some cars passed by, illuminating the roads like drifting spotlights. Ilse had seen too many cities like this, unaware of the violence going on around them. If she hadn't been already numbed to this, she would have felt almost sick at the idea of conducting what amounted to warfare in the midst of a civilian population. In the end, though, there wasn't much she could do. The battlefield had been chosen already, and she would accept it for what it was.


It smelled more like a true city, and that urban, industrial air, strangely refreshing to her senses, set this place apart from the places she had visited in the past; it was the image of modernity, with all the strengths and weaknesses of such.


Regardless of civilians, and regardless of the urban, modern landscape of the city, this one war couldn't become known. Regardless, too, of the threat to magi that would pose, Ilse could only think of the political ramifications – what too many magi thought themselves above when conducting their business, but thankfully avoided by process when going about the secretive act that was their research.


Ilse stayed close to the buildings, avoiding the glare of headlights as late-night vehicles passed her. The shadows kept her hidden away, until the number of people who walked the streets amounted to none.


Silence, without peer, filled the city like a mist rolling in, eerie and uncharacteristic of a national capital.


It was at this time that the war truly began. Ilse jumped the gun in her preparation, but she knew that it was the prepared who naturally triumphed over the unprepared. She could jump the gun, as it were, but so long as no one unrelated to this war found out, she had nothing to lose. Of course, she knew at the same time that she couldn't be the only Master with that idea; not even once did she doubt the intelligence of her competitors – though she couldn't help but wonder if Filippo was the only exception to that.


After some time, she noticed that the night had been unusually quiet, and she wasn't thinking about just the harsh silence – not a soul could be seen anymore, and normally she could pick up on the smaller noises of movement and speaking.


It was when she crossed a street that she noticed a light behind her, a kind of radiance like the sun letting out a dimmed glow across the pavement.


Immediately she turned about, only to see what was undoubtedly a Servant behind her, his hands at his sides, his clothing royal and immaculate, his aged, weary skin betraying some sort of kindness. No matter how much Ilse studied the unmoving man, nothing about his seemed hostile at all; he gave off an air of humbleness and nobility, and he wore a smile, his attitude contrasting the sword at his belt and the rich vestments he wore. Though Ilse knew that a Servant could easily be a good actor, a manipulator of emotions with words and appearance, this man felt trustworthy, his very presence setting her at ease, so much so that she began to lower her rifle, looking at the man with a kind of awe.


She was left standing there, staring at the grand Servant, when he was knocked out of the way by a speeding figure, nearly a blur in front of Ilse's eyes.


The new Servant held a spear taller than himself in both hands, pointing its razor tip towards the glorious, radiant king. His hair was blue, and he had a stern cast to his features, his purpose defined and his will resolute. He didn't seem the type to back down, but he stopped for a moment to examine the person he began fighting; the king hadn't even drawn his weapon, and he just nodded at the new arrival, welcoming him.


“Ah, another Servant. You seem belligerent, but at the same time, I take it that you recognize me? I see it in your eyes, young man.” The king clasped his hands together and bowed.


As if forced by a command, the Lancer knelt down on one knee, staring at the ground, looking nearly as though he was praying. Smiling, and even letting out a brief chuckle, the old king begged him rise again, and looked him in the eyes.


“You, you are...” the Lancer, the very same man Johana had as her partner in this war, was nearly struck speechless, his honour replaced with stuttering, foolish words. “The most noble king of them all, the King of Paladins himself... Charlemagne.”


Ilse would be surprised by Lancer's demeanour, but at the same time, she was under the same spell. But, it was no spell the king had cast: his very visage was somehow tamed, holding a fiery spirit tempered by wisdom. His sheer charisma and appearance were enough to overcome nearly anyone, marking him as one of those rare few people who could command love and worship wherever they walked – but, out of humility, did not.


Charlemagne gently smiled, stepping closer to Lancer, who didn't even try to raise his weapon as the king approached. “A knight of Christ, are you? Hmm, you seem the honourable sort. You would have made a fine man amongst my peers, but you are beyond my time, are you not? The king of the Franks would do well with a man such as you, but I fear you have another to which you are bound. All good knights are just so, are they not?”


Immediately Lancer nodded, at first unable to form any words to speak to this hero amongst heroes. “I... yes, my king, I have such a lady. She is not the ideal princess, but... she is under my protection, and I am sworn by my oath to defend her to the end of my life. I would do nothing but serve her, no matter her wishes.”


“I am glad you have a purpose and need not seek one, good sir knight.” Charlemagne, like an old and caring father, placed his hand on Lancer's shoulder. “But remember, too, that no knight is perfect. Even amongst my paladins, there was not one who followed chivalry, Christianity and honour to their utmost; every knight has his own flaw, and I know that you have yours, as well. The key in being a good knight, then, lies in understanding yourself, and understanding who you protect. Only then can you achieve a peaceful end, the kind reserved for the truest of heroes. You are celebrated already, good knight; do not let the people down, and do not let your lady escape you. Defend her to the end, and may your oath never be broken.”


Those words of wisdom struck Lancer's heart, and he stood there as if in a trance, even as Charlemagne disappeared into the shadow, ending the unexpected encounter as mysteriously as it began. If he was a Servant, then who was his Master? Why did he not fight?


Questions like that did not reach Lancer's mind, but Ilse, who had come to her senses when the king left, had a mind full of questions.


The appearance of Lancer, without Johana, made her wonder; there was no way he would leave his Master's side unless ordered, so the only natural conclusion was effectively laid out for her to see. She walked up to him, rifle at the ready, making sure that they were out of sight before she began speaking to the man.


“Lancer! Tell me, where's your Master? Johana wouldn't be able to make you leave her side even if she killed you, so why are you here? Has she died?” Ilse stared up at Lancer, who could barely respond at first, his mind far elsewhere. When he finally noticed her, though, he remembered his purpose, and stood straight, his spear at his side.


“I was sent to scout the city while my Master is unavailable.” Lancer didn't look her in the eyes; answering her questions, he couldn't let his assigned mission be compromised, and didn't want to face Ilse's piercing glare, so unlike the kind Charlemagne.


Ilse scoffed, placing a hand on her hip. “Unavailable? How so? Why? And are you really just scouting? I find it suspicious that you of all Servants winds up trying to save me from another who appears, just before anything bad could happen. You've been watching me, and it's more than obvious by now.”


Lancer could only soothe the guilt by admitting to himself that knights are horrible spies. “Johana is alive, but she is in bed, and has protected herself. She wanted me to ensure that nothing is happening that she might find important or worthy of her attention.”


“Stop being so fucking evasive!” Ilse narrowed her eyes, forcing Lancer to look down at her. “Why is Johana off in bed while you're out here? Did she get attacked? Just answer me, and we won't have to hassle with this any longer! Tell me your reason for following me around, and I'll leave you be. Why does Johana want to keep track of what I'm doing and where I'm going?”


“Johana... awoke in pain not long ago, and she has been laying awake for some time now. She has not been injured, precisely, but her wounds will only be healed with time. Her wish is for you to avoid any harm, so that you arrive at the hotel safely. She does not seem to be interested in anything else at the moment; I last spoke with her this morning.” Lancer felt some more guilt wash through him as he was forced to divulge his secrets.


He could see a cold, distant frown on Ilse's face. “I... see. If you can't explain more, then leave. Don't watch me, or chase me down; let Johana be disappointed, then. I'm not having her spy on me, because I know that she, like any other, could just strike me down if she so wanted. I'm not giving her any more information that might help with that.”


Before Lancer could speak up, Ilse had run off, disappearing into the shade of a few trees, her figure easily hidden.


He sighed, and made his way to the hotel to speak with his Master.


The words of Charlemagne stung him in retrospect, and he felt an ache in his heart as he failed his Master once again, unable to do as she wished, and unable to protect her as his vows demanded of him.


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

In this chapter, we got to see Ilse's thoughts, Lancer being punted around by everyone, and Ilse denying lesbianism. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter!

There's only one Invocations chapter left, and it's an eventful one! I'm making sure to leave that story off on an interesting note, oh yes. :3

As usual, comment, wait for me to update, and hope that I can get these next chapters done by Christmas! Just like last time, I'll have plenty of goodies waiting for you folks when the big day rolls around!

CHARLEMAAAAAAAAAAAAGNE

[Asdfghl]

So Charlemagne has an aura of kingliness? Is it just a natural part of his personality?

Ilse denying attraction to Johana makes the dynamic between them more interesting, as well as possibly leaving room for GilgameshxIlse fluff.

That was a nice unexpected surprise. Looking forward to the next Invocations chapter.

[Five_X]

So Charlemagne has an aura of kingliness? Is it just a natural part of his personality?

He has three things that make him like he is: a skill that grants him mental resistances in exchange for making it so that most everyone knows who he is, A+ Charisma, and his sword Joyeuse, which has an aura that makes those around its wielder feel friendly towards him, and makes them feel at ease.