Caster was outwardly silent as she entered the taxi and rode with the magus to the liquor store. The ride was short and quiet until they arrived at a quaint little liquor store and exited the vehicle. She would accept the offered money from Seyrun and purchase a good bottle of sake before joining Seryun out front.

"I must thank you for your assistance this day, honored Magus. It would reflect poorly upon my wifely skills if I had failed in this task, you see." Caster addressed Seyrun with a courteous bow before plastering on a bubbly smile. "Perhaps you'd let me return the favor? My Master and I could be of assistance in your investigation of the cities ley lines. You may not have a public interest in the Grail War itself, but surely other Masters and Servants will have an interest in securing the ley lines for their own interests, and would not be as discerning between Master and Magi as I am." She jiggled the bottle of alcohol, letting the sounds of sloshing sake ring between them. "Care to join us for an alliance over drinks?"

Bubbly personality or not, she was still a courtesan of the imperial court, and one does not last long there without some skill outside of the carnal arts.

Reaching out for the link between Master and Servant, Tamamo initiated mental contact with Wes. Master, I may have found us a potential ally for the course of the war in the form of a supposedly unaffiliated magus. Very clever girl, would have been proud to call her my rival in love if I hadn't already captured your heart! She mentally tittered. We shall likely be returning shortly, so it would be good to pull the boat to shore...unless you really want to see me wet.

---

Wes sighed. He needed a break from working with all these tiny-ass parts and cameras. There had to be something else productive he could be doing.

Maybe setting up a failsafe to call out Command Seal activations when I'm being gagged or incapacitated? No, that'd be pointless. Command Seals respond to intent, not verbal commands. What about... hrmmm...

He stared absentmindedly at the glass bottom farther back in the cabin. Hmmm... It was a pretty little thing to have, but it seemed better suited to clearer waters than the kind you got here in Fuyuki. Murky, black... perfect for alchemy! He'd use the ocean water as ingredients to synthesize large amounts of ammonium nitrate for his bombs.

Shuffling an empty fish tank out of a shelf in the cabin, Wes carefully unscrewed the glass bottom, dunked the tank in the cold ocean water, then pulled it back out. Replacing the glass bottom, Wes set about carving magic circles on outside walls of the tank that would facilitate his alchemy. Once he was finished, he smudged some animal blood on the circles, ran a little prana through it, and voila! Small dirty-white clumps began to form at the bottom of the tank, slowly lowering the water level.

Excellent! Seawater contains a number of dissolved gases. With the available hydrogen and oxygen plus an 80% concentration of dissolved nitrogen gas, seawater is perfect for synthesizing good ol' NH4(NO3) a.k.a ammonium nitrate. The primary ingredient in any DIY IED. Then we just combine it with a detonator cap and the right ratio of fuel oil - in this case gasoline - and boom! You have the perfect ANFO bomb.

Wes considered his options as the tank slowly drained. He knew a recipe for creating Comp. 4 in the kitchen, and he needed a large bomb to set as a trap in his decoy hideout back at the shed. Question was which type of explosive to use? C4 was more stable and reliable than an IED, but he couldn't create it in the same amount/time ratio as he could ANFO. By the looks of it, that tank would be drained in an hour, yielding about 50-70 kilos of ANFO. That meant he could make a one-ton bomb by sundown. That'd free up his schedule to start working on smaller IEDs and preparing his ratpack.

Wes nodded to himself. Alright, he'd do that then. ANFO for the shed bomb, C4 for the IEDs.

Master, I may have found us a potential ally for the course of the war in the form of a supposedly unaffiliated magus. Very clever girl, would have been proud to call her my rival in love if I hadn't already captured your heart!

That's great news, Tamamo! he replied ecstatically. But then something occurred to him. Something that gave him reason to pause. Tamamo... you said they were unaffiliated, right? By any chance, would they happen to be here with-

We shall likely be returning shortly, so it would be good to pull the boat to shore...unless you really want to see me wet.

T-Tamamo! Wes stuttered at his Servant's obvious flirting. Just as soon as it had entered his mind, that nagging worry disappeared, leaving behind a vague concern that he should be worried about something, but not knowing at all what it was. Cripes! Alright, fine. I'll bring the boat ashore. There was something I wanted to do to the shed that I might need your help with anyway.

Twenty minutes later

With the boat safely tied to the dock, Wes heaved and hefted the fish tank and a canister of gasoline onto shore, reinforcing his body so as not to put undue stress on his heart. These were the essential ingredients.

Dropping them jerkily on the ground in a way he wouldn't have dared if they'd already been mixed together, Wes breathed a sigh of relief as he heard his Servant approaching.

"Ah, Caster!" he said, being mindful not to use her True Name around their new guest. "Great timing! I was just about to-"

He looked up. And saw the absolute last person in the world he wanted Caster to bring back with her.

"Caster," he said very seriously. "Who the hell is this?"

Of course he knew full well who it was, a fact that was reflected in his tone of voice. It was Seyrun-i Lhu ri Viathan. The head pupil of that scumbag Lord El-Melloi, and a notary member of Europe's magical elite. The type of person who would use the phrase "cleaning up the gene pool" completely unironically. An absolutely insufferable, stuck-up bitch and the object of Wes' ire ever since he first started attending classes at the Clocktower.

And now his Servant had, whether wittingly or unwittingly, brought her right to his doorstep. This day was just full of surprises.

"My name?" Hector said. "It's Hector. You gonna stop complaining now?" Hector took another puff on the joint. A look of dull bliss crossed his face, and a strange focus showed in his eyes.

"Aight, I know you're gettin' antsy here, so I got a plan. We're gonna hit up a hardware store and a pharmacy, and buy up some supplies." Hector spoke quickly and decisively, evidently expecting Solovei to follow along regardless of what he said. "I ain't gonna need much, and I'm gonna have to pay in cash so you're gonna need to give me that money back. No credit cards and no mail-- that shit's too easily tracked. You ain't gonna keep hidden very well if you buyin' ten tons of pressure cookers and blasting caps on Amazon, y'know?"

Hector fished around in his pocket for his wallet. He still had a decent amount of money left. Enough to buy some vitamin supplements, some canisters, and some other raw materials. It was better than nothing, but still pretty dire.

"Then, we're gonna find a good place to hide out. I'll call the boys, see how they doing in Kamurocho, see if I can get anybody over. After that, we're gonna play the game tight. No dumbass moves, no challenges, nothing that'll get us killed by some crazy motherfucker with a sword and a complex, y'know?"

Hector briefly paused to think. All he knew of his Servant was that he came from a story where he used his voice to kill people. He didn't know if it was a sonic scream or a compelling voice, but either or both would work quite well. All that mattered to Hector was that Solovei could cause enough collateral damage to make following him a dangerous proposition.

"If, by chance, someone comes around looking for us, I got a contingency. I got this crazy mix of shit you don't even know about, and it'll make you fuckin' Superman for a while. All you gotta do is take it, an' you're gonna be tossing cars an' shit. While you doin' that, I'm gonna help you however I can. I ain't got the shit to make bombs like los Zetas or nothing, but I got what I need to make somethin' good, you know? I got a buddy who work with el Che, and I got some good tips from him 'fore he died. Ain't much, but it'll work."

Hector briefly made the sign of the cross, in honor of his lost friend.
"Don't be 'fraid to use your voice powers or nothing, if we get to the point where we gotta end some pendejos, everything helps. So... you got any problems, or we solid? We still gotta pick out a place to eat, so you can think it over breakfast."

Shinobu
[Ryuudou Temple]

Shinobu regards Lú Qiūyuè with some feigned feigned caution, all the while her body remains in a perfect, casual posture, her breathing even and controlled. She could tell at a glance that the girl had some sort of Martial Arts experience, definitely more than Shinobu herself. Just my luck, I have to tumble into the one Master that's a Shaolin Monk.

"Well, they'll just have to work do time being." She comments plainly to her Servant, almost automatically and without taking her thoughts away from her target new friend. "We don't exactly have a warm, happy home base to return to, Mister Jackson."

Her eyes focus back in on the girl in front of her, and she returns her formal greeting with a half-bow of her own. "The pleasure is mine, Miss Master. And, to answer your question about my readiness: I meant this," she gestures down at her shirt. "I was planning on letting us continue our conversation after I was dressed up to, er, standards." She gazes at the chinagirl meaningfully, before thoughtfully tapping her finger against her chin and verbally considering their options.

"Perhaps, we could change locations and talk over the possibilities of extending our alliance, or maybe even just share some information, if you'd be willing. It seems the both of us have just arrived, so it might be in our best interests to try and gain every advantageous tidbit we can take. What do you think? I'm sure magi of our caliber," she nods perceptibly towards her Servant, "would have no trouble convincing the temple folk here to allow us to stay."

"I'm sure our Servants would like some time to properly acclimate themselves to their new environments, as well~" she adds, as a cheerful after-thought. For the time being, she was avoiding directly involving her Servant in the proceedings: She didn't know how capable he would be in a diplomatic situation. He was an Archer, so this change of scenery could only benefit him, in her mind.

Lancer

He stopped dead in his tracks as his Master's hand sweeped out to stop him.

Ah, he was to enact a cunning plan perhaps, one that would all but ensure their victory. O what a Master he had found, how utterly grand to have a grand strategist. Suppressing his own bloodlust for now, he dematerialized his spear, opting to observe the two enemies instead. Saber.... Though his pride dictates that he should fight her in an honorable battle, he would not object if his master found another, easier way to defeat Saber. Through his own way, he understood how certain measures can stem an entire invasion or win an entire battle.

"As for you, Lancer, I'm hoping we have an honorable combat. I answered my Master's summons just so that I could shake off the boredom of the Throne, having an opponent as formidable as you for my first combat is joyous for myself."

Those words elicited naught but a grin, though it was obvious Lancer was extremely excited by the prospect. Lancer stayed behind for a moment, as Rasputin left for the car. "Then, o beautiful flowers, I pray I can gaze upon your countenance soon."

With a slight bow, he left, entering his Master's old car, which again, seemed to creak under his weight.

---

Kurokiri Hyuuga

That strange man stopped just a bit away from her, leaning in to get a better look.

The deal he offered... was very one sided. If they lost, they would gain an ally, but if she lost, she would undoubtedly die. There was no guarantee that they would win by subduing her Servant. If they could win in a straight duel, they would kill her and Saber as well.

"Anyway, what do you say, is Lancer strong? I mean, I can feel an incredible lust for blood within him, but is he, stronger, equal, or weaker than myself?"

"No. Or rather-" Kurokiri turned to Saber. "His parameters are distributed differently from yours. However, pure stats doesn't win the battle... "

Lancer's Master turned and walked away, speaking for one last time. "До свидания, my competitors. Please do not be dying before our fated meeting. Oh, and a word of advice, allowing your Servant to speak for you is a sign of weakness. I would be suggesting dictating terms on your own next time- if there is a next time."

Lancer followed suit, piling into the car with his Master.

Sighing, Kurokiri relaxed, almost collapsing down on her butt. "I... I'm sorry. I never expected to find a Master or a Servant right on the first day. Shall we go to the Church now? You can pray as long as you need. I believe I read somewhere that the Church is neutral grounds."

She needed to think as well, so perhaps that was for the best. A duel near a reactor somewhere? No doubt he didn't have any intentions of doing a straight duel.

Flickering candles in the small office leaned as a white-robed man entered. The elder sitting at the desk looked up to the newcomer, who silently nodded. The elder understood, wordlessly rising and following the robed man out of the office.

The preparations for the ritual had taken some time. Everything needed to be perfect if they were to perform a miracle, and a miracle was exactly what they needed. Sacrifices had always been necessary since the dawn of time, but the Cult of the Lord's Light had too much riding on this ritual to allow the sacrifices to be in vain. God's love was with them, but love was no substitute for hard work.

The elder entered the room where the ritual would take place and made his way to the head of the room. The robed man joined the ranks of other similarly-dressed cultists. All stood at rapt attention, waiting for the elder to speak.

"Today," he began, his voice quavering from age, "our Order begins a new era. With this Miracle, we shall empower our High Reverend, Mister Billy Jameson, to spread the light of our Lord in even the deepest of shadows. We shall shine light where the Church seeks to hide it, and we shall give glory to His name forevermore. Rejoice, as through your sacrifice, the world will be saved. Go with love like His son, and know peace everlasting, hallelujah."

The room shook as the cultists gathered responded with a resounding "AMEN!" Five black-robed cultists standing around the inscription to be used for the ritual began chanting as the white-robed cultists began passing a ceremonial dagger through their ranks. One by one they yelled an impassioned "Deus vult!" before driving the knife into their throats. The inscription between the chanters glowed brighter with each sacrifice.

At last, the knife made its way to the elder. Before sacrificing himself, he turned to face Billy Jameson. "Child, may God's grace protect you in the heathen lands. There is no telling what atrocities await you at the hands of both them and the Church."

"Rest easy, Father," Billy responded gently. "God is on our side. We shall meet again with the Rapture."

"That we shall, Child. Deus vult!"

Billy bent to retrieve the knife, wiping the blade clean on the elder's clothes. With it, the strode to the ritual inscription, stopping three steps from the center. He held his hands out before him, then drew the silvery blade across his left palm. Blood pooled in his hand as he recited the words he'd been given, finishing the lines just as blood began to drip out of his hand and onto the inscription.

The inscription reacted immediately. The glow stopped, then red light began to spread from where Billy's blood had fallen. The prana collected flowed through the inscription, powering the spell. The chanting cultists stopped and left the room, leaving Billy alone with the inscription and several hundred cultist corpses.

In a brilliant flash, the ritual came to completion. Before Billy stood a completely unfamiliar man with rough features and a noticeable smell. Billy quickly looked him over and, before he had a chance to say anything, asked him, "Say, what's with those slanty eyes?"

@IncredibleBee

In a flash of white light, Musashi appeared. A man of thirty, he was dressed in a gray kimono, hair wild, beard untrimmed. He was kneeling, one knee raised vertically. A wakizashi was tucked through his sash. In his left hand he held a heavy katana.

"You have beck- what do you mean what's wrong with my eyes? What's wrong with YOUR eyes?" he asked, standing up quickly. The swordsman stopped suddenly as he scanned the room. Hundreds of bodies lay in front of him, all with their throat slit. They were no Japanese, but Musashi got the gist of it. This was obviously junshi, mass suicide to follow their lord into the afterlife. Even if they weren't samurai, these were devoted men. Their lord was lucky to have so many loyal retainers. He would have to give a prayer over their graves later.

Musashi turned back to the man. In his time, almost all Westerners save for specific circumstances were forbidden from entering Japan, lest the imperialists ruin the country the way they did China. "...You're a foreigner, then? Did these men kill themselves to rejoin their lord? That's admirable. I thought Westerners feared seppuku."

"Ain't nothing wrong with my eyes, pardner," Billy replied as the samurai scanned the room. He allowed the man some time to take it all in, as it wasn't a pretty sight. Even Billy, who knew the holy nature of the bloodshed, was uneasy in the face of so many people he knew lying dead before him.

However, it seemed the slanty-eyed man was not at all put off by the corpses. "Nah, we ain't afraid of sudoku 'round these parts. Hell, there's one in the news every day! And, well, I guess you could say they went to rejoin their lord... They just happened to bring you here in the process. Who are you, anyway?"

A door opened and admitted two black-robed men, who immediately set about cleaning the room in silence.

"Has anyone ever told you that you speak like tremendous boy-molesting fruit?"

Rasputin pulled out of the drive, the car giving an odd thump as Rasputin ran something over. If he had bothered to look back, he could have found a dead and much flatter stray cat. Also Seyrun's blindingly obvious, incredibly ugly silver hunk shich she called a familiar, but that was another story entirely.

"All the same, the Japanese will likely be out of our hair for a while, wondering how we plan to accomplish such a feat. They are simple creatures in this way. Now, first step in our master plan, you are needing some clothes. Taking care of one's appearance is the first step in making a miracle!"

Rasputin stopped to scratch his face, the irony of what he had just said completely lost on him.

"Now, essentially, here is the great Rasputin's brilliant master plan: I have no plan. What I do have, however, is a list of great evils that lay within this world. It is our duty as men of faith to purge these evils, and I am thinking the Fuyuki City church is being an excellent place to start, yes?", He held up a hand as if to stop something, "And before you are answering, this was rhetorical yes, so do not actually feel that you must be answering."

@kusanagifire

"I see." Musashi stuck his sword through his sash and rubbed his chin, taking in Billy's words. "Then the west has certainly changed in the past four hundred years. I have a vague awareness of the current state of affairs, but much is still unknown. You are correct; let us start with introductions."

The samurai turned, and focused his steely eyes on Billy. "My name is Miyamoto Musashi. If you have beckoned me here, then you wish for me to fight, yes? Though I may make a selfish request until the tournament begins."

@Turboshitter

Giorgio Armadi
[Copenhagen, Fuyuki City]

Well, it appeared that the person who had asked Giorgio had talked to randomly decided to leave mid conversation. It was a bit odd to Giorgio. At the very least, Giorgio felt it was odd. She had told him what he wanted to know at least.

“Seyrun-i Lhu ri Viathan, eh? Odd name, but I won’t judge.”

Well, perhaps Giorgio felt it was a bit of an odd name, but at the very least it was her own. At the very least it was not the worst name he had heard. But Giorgio would at the very least try and remember the name. After all, she seemed interesting to say the least.

But a name was a name, and a face was a face.

“Well, that was odd. At the very least I could say something before someone runs away usually. Huh.”

Was was increasingly weird is that he thought they had worked in the bar. Perhaps it was just an assumption, or perhaps they simply had to leave due to their shift ending or perhaps they didn’t need to come in today or was picking up their paycheck. Any of these were possibilities to Giorgio.

Either way, the lady was gone. And what was left was Giorgio’s Servant, Berserker. At the very least Berserker wasn’t trying to kill Giorgio at this time and seemed somewhat appeased by the fact Giorgio had offered her drink and the like. That was the start of some sort of relationship, Giorgio supposed. At the very least his life wasn’t currently endangered.

Giorgio didn’t even understand what he had done to wrong his Servant. Something about him being a boy. To Giorgio at least it seemed a bit unprovoked, so perhaps it would be unwise to bring it up again.

“So after you get your fill, I do want to visit some places if that is alright with you. There might be enemies in any corner within this city, so I would like for you to accompany me. I’ll trust that is fine with you?”

At the very least, Berserker wanted, just as Giorgio, to win this war. She seemed like a live wire worthy of the title “Berserker”, even when the Madness was turned off. Though Giorgio was not a man ready to remove his pride as a person to befriend his Servant. However, even if they acted in such an unbecoming manner, Giorgio trusted at the very least both her desire to win the war would be enough to provoke the other onto his side.

"Of course, no rush in regards to your drink. After all, I am a man of my word."

"I think we'll get along well, Miyamoto. I'm High Reverend Billy Jameson, but you can just call me Billy." Billy punctuated his introduction by pointing a thumb at himself. "I'm not all too sure about this tournament thing, though. All I know is that we're going to some town over in moonland to find some sort of wish, but other people are also gonna be there and we'll have to fight them off. I dunno, the details we got were kinda hazy - I think the torture team goes a bit overboard.

"Anyway, you said you have a selfish request. What's it gonna be, a burger on me?"

"A wish, huh? That is indeed a tempting offer." Musashi nodded, mulling over the idea. "If this story is mere rumor, only madmen will be there. If it's truly a tournament, we can expect the very strong."

"And as for my request. I would like books on history and the world. It has been many years since I died; I would like to see how martial arts have changed. It would also do well to know about the nation we're entering; I'm not familiar with this 'Moonland'. And finally, I'd like to request some paint, and perhaps scrap wood to carve. With these, I can make more art."

"That said," he finished, a look of curiosity on his face. "I've never had this 'burger' before. I don't know what they are, but you've piqued my curiosity. Please, do show me."

"We're back, Master!" Tamamo cheered, skipping away from Seyrun in order to give her Master a one armed hug as the sake was in the crook on the other. Given the height difference she couldn't settle her head comfortably in the crook of his neck like she would have wanted, but the important part was too make it seem as though they were busy being intimate in the moment.

"You two seem hostile. Then it is good I brought her here rather than leaving her to act unsupervised. Worry not Master, I won't let her harm a hair on your head." She telepathically communicated whilst physically pressing herself against Wes. "But wouldn't it only benefit you to have an ally here? She even brought food and drink as a show of respect to your greatness!"

Caster released her Master and took a few steps back, placing herself between the conflicting magi. Her ear twitched momentarily with the haughty tone Seyrun used in addressing her Master. She seemed to embody everything her Master disliked in magus society, which is yet another reason she felt that she had to bring the two together in the Grail war. Seyrun would be the first of many that Wes would demonstrate his greatness too, and the acolyte who would spread word of his great and heretical revolution!

"Come now, let's sit down to a proper meal before we start with the down and dirty work."

With a saccharine smile she winked towards her Master. "And if she can't be persuaded after we have broken bread, I'll kill her, kay?"

---

"Then I'd have the pleasure of killing Lord El-Melloi. That's as good as a wish," Wes replied, his voice equally venomous. And in all honesty? He meant it too.

There were very few people in the world that someone like Wes would legitimately wish harm on, but the likes of Lord El-Melloi was one of them. It wasn't much of an exaggeration to say Wes held the same contempt for the Clocktower and Association elite as he did for pedophiles, rapists and murderers. That's what most of them usually ended up being, one way or another. Taking advantage of the frail and unwilling weak was the bread and butter of the magically enabled. Not only was modern magecraft in a decline, but its practicioners hardly knew any moral boundaries.

“However, you should be thankful for Caster being who she is. I can’t negate such an honest hospitality, in fact, I brought something else other than alcohol. Furthermore, you should be even more thankful that you are a student at the Clock Tower as well, since now I’m obliged to at least see to it that you don’t tarnish the Tower’s great name with your failure.”

"Yes I am quite thankful for Caster. She's kind-hearted and does her best, which is more than I can say for some people," Wes said. Then, he sighed. As much as he hated to admit it, having a more... able-bodied magus on the team would be of help in achieving his goals, and according to Caster, she had valuable information which he owed her for.

"Caster," he said, waving his hand exasperatedly. "Welcome her aboard the boat.

Alright, thanks, he communicated to Tamamo mentally. But we have to get her to give her up the information she knows before we do anything rash. Then if she still seems like she'll turn on us in the future, we can get rid of her, one way or another.

Wes was pretty sure that, as tempting as it might seem to his lower brain, murder wasn't necessary or in his best interests. They needed to prevent her from becoming a particularly noisy loose end if she chose not to cooperate, but bound and gagged, deprived of their ability to move, make basic gestures or speak any aria, a modern magus was as powerless as a normal human. With Tamamo's strength, they could easily incapacitate her and just shove her in a closet onboard the boat for the rest of the war.

Of course should Tamamo ever take it upon herself to kill her, it could hardly be said that he'd have any complaints...

Though he did not quite enjoy standing and watching for too long, it was the decision Jackson had made as his new position as "servant". His feet tapped impatiently as the former president listened to the others speak. As far as environment went, Jackson was unsure whether he really needed any adjustment. Sure, it was centuries beyond his time, though judging by the fact the other servant had armor on, he surely needed far more.

However, with the words of the little girl, Jackson tried very hard in stifling his laughter. It started off as a contained chuckle, though it was not long before the Archer burst out into uncontrollable laughter, his rifle almost falling out of his hands. "No" he said in a stern tone. Composure was gained fairly quickly, almost without distinction between one mood and the other.

"I don't suppose you've got a tailor nearby. If you do, we can take the conversation there. I dunno how good at walkin' these legs are. My arms certainly work alright though." Jackson suggested.

If only he had his cane.

Assassin nodded, folding her arms across his chest as Hector finally identified himself. He didn't exactly need to be so sarcastic about it, especially when he had just pulled a random Heroic Spirit out of the aether so he only really had himself to blame for it. Assassin might have been a bandit but he still appreciated some common courtesies. Like having a name for the person who was supposed to be his 'Master'.

He waited patiently then as Hector explained the plan he had in mind, how they were going to go buy supplies before holing up somewhere and waiting. It left him to wonder why he had not simply bought his supplies before going about the summoning, but who was he to question the way of a Magus? Certainly he didn't have any understanding in that regard, though he hoped that this sort of thing wasn't typical for a Holy Grail War.

"So, just to make sure that I understand, your plan is to hide somewhere until the other Masters in the war have killed each oher, and then go and finish off the survivors," he asked, just clarifying that with all the dead weight cut out of it. As an Assassin he didn't mind that in principle, he just had some problems with it overall. Though he was getting the feeling that Hector wasn't much inclined to listen to him in the first place.

He didn't take long to point that out. "I would like to remind you that I am of the Assassin class. Even if we do not go after the other Masters directly, it would be unwise to simply lock ourselves away to wait out the Grail War, since we would have no idea what Servants might come to attack us." He had confidence in his master....mostly, but it was better to be prepared than to simply isolate hemselves entirely.