Listening once more, Assassin was pleased to see that his Master was a bit more than just interested in drugs, and actually had some common sense in his head for tactical matters. It might not be some grand strategy to cleverly win the war and defeat all heir enemies, but it was nonetheless a plan, and it was much more acceptable to Assassin than whatever they had been talking about before. Whether it would do the job was another story, but for an initial plan it was good.

"Very well Master," Assassin replied with a nod of his head. "It sounds like a good plan for entering into this war." Still, it seemed like they wouldn't set out on it immediately. But that was fine, so long as there weren't any major fights taking place already. And they probably would notice if there were, depending on who was involved. For now thought, as the first day it was probable that they could rest easy.

He paused then, thinking it over before shrugging. "Whatever you like Master. I have never had the fortune of sampling Japanese cuisine." He'd grown up in the forests of central Russia after all, a bit far from he Island of Nippon. That said he prepared to fade from sight and follow Hector, or to walk alongside him, however the man wished to handle the...odd, appearance of his Servant.

Lancer

"Very well, Master."

Without missing a beat, Lancer dematerialized out of the car, and reappeared a moment later just behind it. It wasn't at all tough to simply spear the familiar and and gather the remain. It did not seem like something the previous magus they met would make however. He could still recall how soft her features was, how inviting her neck, those frightened eyes. It was hard to imagine her making this rather cold and hard familiar.

Walking back slowly to his Master, he finally answered the questions, a slight hint of amusement present in his voice. "Apologies, Master, I shall have to disappoint you. I can do none of what you described to me. I can, perhaps, dematerialize and go through unwarded walls or the likes, but turning into fogs and bats is far beyond my scope."

Again, he entered the car, and handed over the two pieces of the familiar.

but Master, can't you see? Seyrun may have come here for me, but she has wound up giving her heart to you! Momentarily lost in her inner romantic she threw herself at her master. Even if I know you only have eyes for me I can't find it inside myself to smother a love so much like my own in it's infancy. It would be like that black hearted bastard Seimei striking me down once again! The irony that the master of the Polygamist Castration Fist can not act to defend her marriage is not lost upon me, but when she comes before you with words so much like my own without knowledge of my legend, and seeing you be so mean in kind, I find myself so very conflicted.

"My Master is a good man." Tamamo spoke aloud, though as a statement of fact or reassurance was questionable. "I have faith that you will be smart and kind Master for the both of us."

Rasputin bit into the warped metal of the familiar remains. Silver. The second most ductile of the transition metals, after gold. It boasts the highest electrical and thermal conductivity of all metals, but also the fourth-lowest melting point at roughly 962 degrees Celsius. While it does not corrode much, it does tarnish easily- a shame, as when polished it had one of the highest reflectivity indexes of any metal. One of the first five metals discovered by man. If Rasputin fashioned this into rings or pendants, he could likely pawn them for quite a bit. He silently thanked that strange, cowardly girl for his unexpected windfall.

Rasputin took another bite, his teeth sinking easily through the artificial bird. Though he himself possessed strength and toughness beyond that of a mortal man, Rasputin had no doubt that any reasonably-strong human being would need, at most, a sturdy hatchet to swiftly dispatch one of these familiars. An exceptionally strong man could likely do so with his bare hands.

Rasputin began driving again, snacking on the familiar remains as they moved towards town. His throat tingled as the dying prana suffused his body and became his own, reinforcing his magic circuits with those that had been inserted into the familiar. It wasn't much, but every drop of power counted. When he had finished the larger half, he spoke again.

"You are a strange sort of vampire, comrade- but then, I am a strange sort of immortal! I suppose we will have to be making do with the talents we hold."

Rasputin began devouring the second half of the familiar remains as he drove into town, polishing it off as they pulled up to a small steakhouse. His head ratcheted itself to face Lancer.

"You are hungry, yes? The internet has told me of this place. They are having seventy-two ounce steak, but is free if eat quickly!", Rasputin let out a hoarse, barking laugh, "But that is not being a problem for men like us, who are not tiny Japanese, yes?"

A beeping sound roused the youthful priest from his thoughts, the sound of shuffling serving as the prelude for paper exiting a printer. The youth walked over to pick up the paper, two different sheets from different sources with different messages. One from the Assembly of the Eighth Sacrament, informing him of something rather...worrying.

A Dead Apostle Ancestor had apparently been reported in the area, and one of the Knight-Captains of the Church had been sent out to observe and, if needed, seal it. While the vampire in question was ranked low on the Church's assessments for the threat it posed to humanity, action in a Far East country such as this was suspicious enough that they had sent such a high-ranking figure.

The second, though, was a more public transmission. Or rather, it should be said that it was public to the Overseer and to the magi in Fuyuki, excepting a certain American. An announcement from an unknown source, though Father Masuda had a good idea as to who had sent this out and how they had obtained the information. If it was that person, intercepting the communication was as simple as breathing, and in some way or another this report would find itself to those magi, whether through a sheet of paper that happened to land in front of them or a message sent to a phone.

The transmission that he and the seven Masters would have received was a simple one. It stated that a magus of the Clocktower, Seyrun-i Lhu ri Viathan, was calling for a large compendium of magical and mundane items. While the time it would arrive was unknown, the only way into Fuyuki was through the docks.

Obviously, the Masters who received a notice of another magus importing magical items into Fuyuki would realize that doing so was an effort to increase one's war strength. If the shipment was received by Seyrun, her war strength would rise, so there was a notable incentive for other Masters to destroy or steal the shipment when it arrived. Knowing that, Seyrun would realize that her only true option was to defend it when it came.

"...hopefully they don't destroy the docks."

Murmuring this to himself, the youth let out a slight sigh. The report of when the shipment would arrive would likely come in the next few hours, after the sun had dipped below the horizon, knowing that person.

Baldwin IV
Sunday Night Super Slam, Wrestlemania XXVIII
Fuyuki Market District or whatever it's called, Afternoon

Dematerializing at his master's behest, Baldwin moved to depart alongside the others. Naturally, he remained adjacent to his charge, ever vigilant for that which might seek to do her harm.

~Timeskippu~

A fair deal of time had passed since the group's departure from the temple, much of which had been spent perusing the city's many clothing emporiums and boutiques. While he could not speak for Sir Jackson, the young king's endeavour to secure proper garments had been quite fruitful.

The Servant's civilian attire consisted of a hooded sweater, slacks, mittens, sunglasses, and a surgical mask. Bizarrely enough, the lattermost item had been remarkably easy to procure, primarily due to a uniformed fellow handing them out to anyone who looked unwell. Not only did it conceal his face, the mask also served to discourage the common folk from drawing close, presumably to avoid what they saw as a sickly individual.

Now that Baldwin was much less likely to attract attention, he could traverse public areas unmolested. With that accounted for, the Servant took a moment to contemplate the day's happenings. Much to his displeasure, he'd been unable to attend mass, having arrived in the world just as it came to a close. While a most unfortunate occurrence, Baldwin would simply have to make do with what he had. Come eventide, he would make sure to devote the remaining hours of the Sabbath exclusively to prayer, sleep be damned.

Speaking of prayer, he recalled the child identifying the collection of wooden structures from earlier as a 'temple,' while suggesting they use it as a base of operations. Though Baldwin was considered to be of the accommodating sort, that was by the standards of his time. Quite frankly, the thought of residing in a heathen house of worship disgusted him to the very core of his being. Thus, the young king did what any self-respecting man of faith would do.

Directing his words to Sir Jackson and the small lass, Baldwin made a rather blunt declaration.

"Ah, dusk approaches. While I've greatly enjoyed our time together, perhaps it is time we part. In but a scant few hours, the war shall begin in earnest. Though we might fancy the thought of an alliance today, there can be only one ultimate victor, as they say. Perhaps if Fate demands it, we might meet again, and have ourselves a proper bout. Until then, I bid thee farewell, and may God be with you."

Having said that, Baldwin began telepathically conversing with his master.

"We are in need of a defensible abode, preferably of the secluded sort. Might you know of such a place, Lady Qiūyuè?"

@Hantu Kongkek@Black Alice@vFear

Hector's day had gone quite comfortably. The ramen shop he had opted to visit-- after having Assassin switch into his Spiritual Body-- was fairly mediocre if cheap, and gave Hector an opportunity to check the town out on Google Maps. Fortunately for Hector, there was a pharmacy just about half a mile away, and an electronics store not even a block away from him. Hector quickly and carefully devised a shopping list.

Hector had just gotten back to his hotel room, a rental car full of vitamin supplements and glass bottles, when he caught wind of a dastardly bastardly plot at the port. Hector knew he'd have to find some way to intercept it, but how? A bright idea crossed his mind, one that he'd used to great effect in the Gulf of Mexico. He wouldn't need to halt the shipment at all!

Hector knew two things about Seyrun's shipment. One, it was a shipment of magical and mundane items. Two, it was ordered by someone named Seyrun. Hector didn't know many Japanese people with that name. In fact, he didn't know many Japanese people, but that was irrelevant. Presumably, that meant it was being ordered from somewhere far away, possibly the Middle East or Europe. Any shipments being taken by boat from there would take a week or so to reach the port, and slightly longer for it to be unloaded, inspected, and delivered. Hector had plenty of time, but he was still on a strict timer.

Hector pulled a phone out, and prepared to make a call. Hector was very happy for the existence of "pay as you go" phones. They were buyable nearly anywhere people sell electronics, can be paid for under false names, and were nearly impossible to track until after they were already used. Hector's plan would take no small amount of persuasive power, though it would be easier than when he first tried it.

"Fuyuki Port Authority, what can--"
" I don't have much time: terrorists working from outside the country have smuggled a dirty bomb onto one of the ships coming into Fuyuki City's port in the next... five to fourteen days. My sources inform me that they plan on sneaking it out under the guise of innocent miscellaneous goods and detonating it in the middle of the city-- unless you can stop them, dozens of lives may be lost!"
There was a pregnant pause. The dispatcher spoke carefully and deliberately.
"Sir, we appreciate your assistance, but there isn't much we can do, beyond halting all ingoing and outcoming ships. Do you have any additional information that could help us?"
"I only know one thing about the shipment they might be using to smuggle: it's a large variety of 'magical' items. Presumably, that means precious stones, incense, metal trinkets... check your shipping manifests for anyone ordering large amounts of unusual goods."
"Can do, sir. We'll investigate any shipments coming in that fit that description."
"Thank you." Hector hung up before the dispatcher could respond, and smiled.

Within the hour word would reach the police. Within two, the ships coming into Fuyuki City would most likely be stopped, either in port or just outside of it. Within three, police investigations would begin, and the port would be locked down tight. Japan certainly wasn't the most terrorized country in the world, but the authorities were legally required to take any and all threats of terrorism at face value. It would take a while, but the port would be shut down, leaving the goods ripe for the taking. The next part of Hector's plan, however, wouldn't need the use of the port. Hector called Assassin forth, and gave him a stern nod.

"Aight, I just got word of a shipment of magical supplies coming in to the port several days from now. Here, lemme show you what I want you to do." Hector pulled his smartphone out, and opened its web browser.

"The shipment'll be stored on a ship like this," Hector showed Assassin a picture of a cargo ship. Massive, flat, and seaborne, it was practically a moving runway. "It'll be either kept strapped together under a big cloth tarp, or it'll all be kept in a metal box like this," Hector showed Assassin a picture of a large, metal shipping container. The chain around its doors looked comically flimsy compared to a Servant's strength.
"There's a big fuckoff port about two miles directly southwest from here. I want you to go there, and search the waters around it for any ships like that. There can't be more than a dozen ships floating around this place, this ain't a very big city."

"You're gonna go on each of the ships 'til you find a container full'a magical shit. You'll know it when you see it. When you do find it, I want you to fuckin' wreck it. Smash it up, toss it in the ocean, steal it, I don't give a shit. You gotta get it gone. If you can't find it, rough up the workers until they tell you where it is. Ooh, and try to find out who's ordered this shit. If I get a name, I got a target, and if I got a target, we got ourselves a plan. 'til then, we're gonna stick to my previous plan of investigating and keeping low."

Hector wiped the sweat from his brow. His call was definitely going to be tracked. He'd have to ditch the phone and the hotel room, and find somewhere else to hide out. However, he did buy another burner phone just for this occasion. With very explicit care, Hector handed Assassin another burner phone. It was a small, nondescript flip phone with only a number pad and a call/hang up button.

"The next few days're gonna have us be separated for a while, as we go scouting. What I need you to do is keep this goddamn phone handy. If you're in trouble, or you see something special, you're gonna call the eighth number down. The one that says '911 Emergency'. That's my number. You got, like, thirty minutes on that thing, so try not to do any prank call shit."

"Aight, now we got that shit sorted, we gotta start our investigation. Where do you think we should start first?"

@Flamelord

As reluctant as Qiūyuè was to part with her monk robes, now that word was out at a Shaolin Monk was participating in the war as a master, she'd need a change of clothes. It was more than likely a bit entertaining watch her try and figure out how clothes that aren't robes work considering she'd been wearing robes all of her life; it was difficult to tell if the tired young clerk was amused or tired of helping her. Although this does come at the cost of word potentiolly getting around town of a monk visiting Shinto to pick up some clothes - defiantly an unusual occurrence, all considered.

In the end, she settled on a set of sports wear. She picked up a sports tank top, a nondescript dark hoodie, a pair of three-quarter length tracksuit pants, runners and a pair of sports undergarments. The fit could be better, the pants were slightly too large and the runners almost seemed to nip at the sides of her feet, but you couldn't ask for much more from a thrift shop. Her makeshift blanket-backpack became significantly larger with her robes and boots in tow. She did still look a little odd with her quarterstaff and makeshift backpack but she decided to stick to a an 'extreme pole vaulting' cover story, as doubtful as it was.

Although Qiūyuè maintained a perfectly neutral expression as Baldwin addressed Shinobu and Jackson, the idea of abandoning the monastery to the two irritated her a little; she had originally planned to slip into the monastery where she presumably would be welcomed as a pilgrim monk and taken care of, and where she would be able to hide in plain sight. She defiantly didn't intend to leave it so easily, but for now...
She comes to offer the pair a bow.
"I hope we meet again in the future, as friends or as fair and honorable rivals. It was a pleasure to meet the both of you."

As she stands, she moves to let her thoughts ring in her mind to communicate telepathically with her companion.
"I had originally thought the temple as I would be able to hide in plain sight, but without that... I believe there's an abandoned mansion to the south of Miyama on the leyline. Alternatively, East Field - the plains to the north of Shinto - is much more isolated, open for horseback charges, and close to Shinto City, although without the leyline."

@Black Alice@Moonman@Hantu Kongkek

Kurokiri Hyuuga
Afternoon, After Lunch

That was fun.

That was the first time anyone had ever enjoyed her cooking. Did that mean she was finally improving? Kurokiri cleaned the dishes by herself, humming slightly as she thought through what happened this morning. She had managed to finally summon a Servant, ensuring her participation in the war, and on top of that, had identified a servant AND a master in the same day. The servant was probably a lancer, through he could be rider or a berserker as well. He wore armor still spattered with blood, and spoke in very interesting ways. Perhaps King Arthur? He was betrayed by his own blood, and would speak that way since he was a knight after all. It could be that he broke from the stress of being betrayed and having to kill Mordred.

Finished with the dishes, Kurokiri gazed at Saber for a moment, reaching out to caress her cheeks. Her phone beeped suddenly, as the information about the shipment came in.

Interesting.

Perhaps this could be useful. Sparing another glance at the sleeping Saber, she went into the basement, to where her grandfather's things were stored.

---

"You're the Master here," Berserker said sullenly. "Do as you wish."

The bartender arrived, and set something out in front of her. Without giving her thanks, Berserker threw back her drink, pounding it down without stopping until she had to come up for air, sighing deeply.

"And I have met many such men of their word. Rarely is it worth what they think it is. The only thing I desire to hear from them are the words they speak when I have impaled them on my spear. You'd best be careful you don't end up the same, boy. As it is, you're already getting-"

Berserker burped quietly, a quick "urrp" somewhere between a cough and a hiccup.

"-preferential treatment. However, if you wish to satisfy me, more wine and spirits certainly wouldn't go amiss."

Afternoon...

Berserker tipped back another bottle, sighing with contentment as she desecrated finely-aged wine with fratboy-like behavior. Popping expensive chocolates into her mouth inbetween gulps, she was an odd sight to see in the quiet Japanese town of Fuyuki. A tall, drunk, dark-skinned athletic girl dressed in sandals and ancient combat gear like some sort of historical cosplayer, walking around town with her Italian, Giorgio Armani pretty-boy boyfriend.

---

---

Wes stared at his Servant dumbly, once again questioning whether or not he was the only sane one aboard this boat.

Polygamist... Castration...

He groaned.

Tamamo, she... she really doesn't, okay? Love me, that is. She's just saying that to try and trick us, me in particular. I know it must seem like you two have a lot in common but trust me, you're worlds apart. I mean, you've never been anything except earnest with me, whereas Seyrun...

Wes stammered.

I mean look at how she reacted when I said I wanted to kill Lord El-Melloi; her teacher. She barely batted an eye! She probably wants me to kill him because that'll in some way further her status in the Clocktower. She's evil and manipulative, like every other so-called "elite" magus.

Wes sighed.

Look, I know what I must sound like to you right now. The irony isn't lost on me. But I want you to know that when I say Seyrun is evil, it isn't like that. I'm not jumping to conclusions and pointing fingers at somebody just because they scare me, I know what she's like. What she's done. I've seen what Seyrun is capable of, with my own two eyes. We've got a good thing going here Tamamo, and I don't want her getting between us. Because that's what she does. Seyrun doesn't bring people together, she tears them apart.

Afternoon...

"I told you to stop calling me that," Wes said, irritated. "And no, not happening. This boat is crucial to the bigger plan. Speaking of which..."

A little egg-timer went off, presumably set by Wes, to signal that the familiar was done "cooking" so to speak. He walked over to the magic circle and picked the now placid, docile rat up, stroking its head gently. With nimble fingers, he affixed one of his miniature wireless cameras to it.

"We're going to need to make a pitstop at the sewage outflow pipe a ways downriver. As for your junk I couldn't care less. Or at least that's what I'd like to say, because it sounds like the stuff you've got there is seriously valuable. Truth be told..." Wes sighed. He was gonna hate himself for this. "It's a good plan. Still, do we really have to hide in a school? Isn't that putting a bunch of innocent students at risk? And like I said, boat-"

Wes made an "=" sign with his hands.

"Important. As for Caster..."

The young magus sighed. He had been hoping to avoid having to make this decision. He didn't trust Seyrun. It was safe to say he'd sooner hug a porcupine or kiss an octopus than he would cozy up to her. Still, at this point the benefits of withholding information were outweighed by the need for transparency. There was no tactical advantage to an ally they couldn't coordinate with.

"Her true name is Tamamo-no-Mae. Fox spirit, courtesan, master of Witchcraft, and as of today, my new ummm... wife," Wes said, slightly embarrassed. He hadn't really thought about it, but saying that to someone else still felt weird. "As for her abilities, I'll let Tamamo explain."

"Thank you Master. That was a wonderful introduction that warms your waifu's heart!" Tamamo chirped, winking playfully towards her Master before turning to address his other servant. "Indeed, I am Tamamo-no-Mae. The legends were largely fabricated as you can tell having met me. You will forever endeavor to find a love as pure as mine for my Master and fail miserably, though you may perhaps be a close second..." She raised a hand to her chin in contemplation. "Now if you would like to discuss my abilities, they are as straight forward as I am!"

With a thought and a flick of her wrist her reflector appeared, circling her lazily, and a spell tag was in hand. "My reflector is my Noble Phantasm, the Eightfold Blessing of Amaterasu, functions as a reliable weapon and when invoked removes all prana restrictions for the duration of its use. I also favor making these paper beauties through my Witchcraft, and could pump them full of prana like a pseudo broken phantasm if I get the time. I have a few more tricks, but they aren’t skills I’m comfortable with using given my…history.”

Refusing to let her past bring about a somber moment she dismissed her armaments and pumped some extra cheer into her voice. “Oh, and I like the plan Seyrun proposed. Master is wise to keep our floating love nest, but I think you two should definitely go to skill. You haven’t experienced high school if you haven’t done it in Japan!”

And while you are there you can prove your academic superiority to your other servant! Once she accepts it she will truly open up her heart to you…after I’ve thoroughly vetted her of course. Tamamo licked her lips, looking anywhere but the two young magi. And I’m sure you can handle having all the high school trollops throwing themselves at you.

Maybe she would get a job while they have their slice of life shenanigans? There should be plenty of places hiring a cute, foxy young woman who lives to serve like herself in Fuyuki.

Giorgio Armadi
[Copenhagen, Fuyuki City]

@Turboshitter

Giorgio hadn’t ever seen a woman drink as much as Berserker had in his lifetime. Well, perhaps it would be worth mentioning that Giorgio had also never seen someone in his entire lifetime drink as his Servant had, male, female, or otherwise [?]. But, that was to be expected from a Servant, as well as a Queen of what was a warrior women tribe, though her mannerisms seemed much more masculine than the typical vision of femininity.

Berserker would simply drink the wine as if it was water. Giorgio, on the other hand, would prefer to enjoy his wine, drinking it slowly and methodically, enjoying the consistency of the flavor over the alcohol itself. Giorgio was one to love life and its pleasures, but he was the sort to enjoy his pleasures slowly rather than instantaneously. A lover of the arts. Therefore, If someone was to ask Giorgio how pieces of bread he had in his life, he could equate this to the number 11,431.

But even so, Giorgio didn’t exactly think that enjoying something instantaneously was exactly the wrong way to enjoy something. Simply put, if one was having fun, then their process of enjoyment was not wrong. He still believed his way was superior to others, methodical and enjoying every aspect of an instance, but would not exactly say someone’s methodism were incorrect. Unless they were being stupid.
To say the least though, Giorgio was enjoying his time in the bar. Speaking frivolous nothings to the bartender and his Servant was in a way an interesting instance of being. Perhaps instead of being a man for war, Giorgio more or less preferred to enjoy himself. Winning the war was inconsequential, and perhaps he would not even make the effort to do so had his Servant not said they wished to win.

Perhaps Giorgio would have preferred to continue his enjoyment.

Perhaps Giorgio could simply wait and see the war, tasting the enjoyments this backwater town had to offer.

Perhaps, under normal circumstances, Giorgio would have ignored a certain message which seemed to appear as if a carrier pigeon had sent him a note.

Battles were beautiful in their own right, but the effort-to-payoff ratio seemed a bit skewed. In the end, a battle between a Servant, as heroic spirits, was an epic tale not too unlike the iliad, ironically enough.

But these were merely hypotheticals. Eventually, just as a stand user attracts other stand users, Masters attracted other Masters, and the battles to decide the Grail War’s victor would be fought regardless.

But to Giorgio there was a certain aspect of the note which Giorgio took offense to.

It stated that a magus of the Clocktower, Seyrun-i Lhu ri Viathan, was calling for a large compendium of magical and mundane items. While the time it would arrive was unknown, the only way into Fuyuki was through the docks.

Seyrun-i Lhu ri Viathan. A name and face Giorgio remembered from earlier. Perhaps Berserker would also recognize the name.

“Oi, Zerker, what do you say to a little ‘raid’. I think I’m a little pissed off and I want to blow off some steam. I’m gonna teach that wench some manners. I ain’t one to be trifled with.”

Though Giorgio didn’t have a lot of things that annoyed him, one of these things were those who didn’t tell the truth. Even if this “Seyrun” person was a Master in the war, the least they could do is say hi as a fellow magus. To look down on Giorgio by disregarding him and running off to god knows where was a bit of an annoyance to Giorgio and needed to be punished. Sort of like how if a gangster passes through a territory belonging to a rival you must first ask permission.

Similarly, Giorgio wanted to visit the Second Owner of Fuyuki and the leader of the crime organizations for similar reasons to this. But to simply disregard Giorgio’s existence was something he took personally.

Giorgio was normally a rather kind-hearted person who enjoyed glamour and fun, but even someone who was respectful and kind has their own triggers, as it were. And to Giorgio, Seyrun disregarding his existence seemed to be a bit of a irksome existence. Rather than the kind, often humbled Giorgio, Berserker seemed to now be talking to a mob boss or something akin to that.

It was not that he wished to kill Seyrun. After all, simply ignoring someone was not reason enough to do this sort of act. However, Giorgio would be lying if he didn’t say he wanted to destroy, or better yet steal whatever was being shipped over.

“I want to take whatever this person is sending over. If not we can just destroy it."

It was a relatively successful day, even by Assassin's standards. He had gotten the opportunity to enjoy Japanese food for the first time, and it hadn't been that bad. Meanwhile his master had gotten the supplies that they would need to fight in the Grail War, or at least some of the parts needed for the plan that they had created for the overall conflict. Meanwhile Assassin himself had followed along, eating the food he had been given and then making sure that no one interfered with his Master or tried to kill him.

Back at the apartment that he had gotten for them though, their supplies in hand, Assassin was slightly distracted as his Master received some information and went to make a phone call. Of course Assassin was relatively privy to it, thanks to his superhuman abilities. SO, a shipment of sorts? Interesting. And Hector definitely used cunning in dealing with it.

Called, Assassin emerged from the aether as he returned to Physical Form, as Hector explained what he wanted him to do with pictures provided for him. All in all it seemed relatively simple enough. Find the shipment, destroy it, and then find out who had ordered it. Simple enough.

Assassin eyed the phone as it was handed over, somewhat distrustful, but accepting it. "Very well Master, i will do as you request," he replied with a nod of his head. He wasn't sure how he would handle the phone with his inability to carry physical objects while in Spirit Form, but he'd figure it out.

Queried about where they should start, he hummed in thought for a moment before providing answers. "Ley lines. Places where Masters may set up a workshop. At the very least we can locate the Caster of this war."

Saber... no. EL CID awoke.

"What have I been doing?", she mumbled as she rubbed her head, her voice now possessed of a masculine-sounding Spanish lilt. That's right, the summoning! The passage from the throne might have knocked some memories loose, but everything was back together now. She was Rodrigo Díaz de Vivar! El Campeador! The greatest knight in all of Spain, loafing around on some girl's couch while her nation cried out in anguish!

El Cid stood ramrod straight in the center of the room. Eyes sharp and filled with terrible purpose, she snatched a pen from a nearby holder and a piece of scratch paper, writing with quick, even strokes and placing it on the couch. Satisfied, she marched out the door, leaving a note upon which was written:




It was time for El Cid to commandeer a boat and return the Spanish Empire to its former glory. First stop: Brazil!