Tamamo's dejected expression surprised Seyrun. In fact, the way how her Servant's ears drooped down all of a sudden was a clear indication that something had affected Tamamo on an emotional level but; what was it?

"My, my, how blunt can I be sometimes. It's quite obvious indeed." Seyrun put the phone back on the pocket it came from. As she turned to face Tamamo and offer apologies for allowing curiosity to take over her once again as well as failing to be able to meet whatever expectations Tamamo seemed to have of her, Seyrun noticed how the fox-eared spirit stared at one of the incoming Servants.

A woman clad in robes of the utmost finery and wearing a masks whose details look suspiciously similar to those of the mirror Tamamo had, huh? That could be interesting.

Nevertheless, before Seyrun could say anything regarding this situation, Tamamo raised a toast, the shaky words coming out of her mouth made Seyrun recall her previous blunders. Where she any other Servant, or if this was a normal Holy Grail War, Seyrun might as well as been dead now, killed by her own summon for failing to pay the due respect Heroic Spirits demanded.

"To our long lasting relationship. Let it be forever while it lasts."

Seyrun replied the toast, taking a measured sip from her glass. Holding it with both hands resting over her lap, Seyrun looked in Tamamo's eyes and said, "I apologize for my ignorance towards your origins and native culture. In fact, the name Tamamo no Mae is a total mystery for me, not because you do not deserve to be idolized as much as the great legends of the West, but because I'm an inept Master. Please, allow me to beg your pardon for letting my curiosity best me once more. Everyone has the right to have secrets, I recognize your legend might not reflect the truth of your life. I promise I'll not look even one more word into it, until you want to share it with me."

With that said, Seyrun dislodged one of the hands that were resting over her thighs and rested it over Tamamo's shoulder, feeling the softness of her Servant's skin. "Now then, let us enjoy this brief reprieve before we are thrown in the chaos of war?"


"Hmph..." Atalanta scoffed at the mention of mathematics, that futile passion the Athenians were so haughty about. Either way she set those thoughts aside the moment Keisuke mentioned some form of complement to the treat that was this apple pie, which Atalanta held whole in her hands.

Nevertheless, Atalanta remained vigilant even while indulging in the pleasure of feasting to her heart's content. There was no sound that could escape her ear, no smell her nose couldn't discern and detail her eyes couldn't see. The ones that called for more of her attention in particular were, the gathering of the children Servants Atalanta had been focusing her attention into for a long time now and, the shift Nature of the the talk between the horribly stinking Master who let out those cockroach familiars Atalanta noticed, but decided to not do anything about --in fact, even now Atalanta felt enervated by the sound of the scuttling pests under that man's garb-- and the Master of Assassin.

"Those two are plotting something, you shouldn't let you guard down." Atalanta whispered to Keisuke in a very bitter voice. "This will be no different from the Calcydonian hunt, or the Argo. Men will never change, no matter the times, they are always greedy bastards." Atalanta's voice was so bitter with memories of her past, remembering how, even during a gathering of individuals united for a common cause there's always those far too willing to jeopardize it for personal gains. The way some of the other Masters plotted and schemed before even their expedition began made it far too clear.

Anyway, Atalanta's expression was still stuck in a biter sulk as she reached for the ice cream thing that Keisuke mentioned even a moment ago, noticing how it was cold and exhaled a sweet taste. Almost like freshly driven snow mixed with milk and honey. She pretty much dropped a full pot over her pie, watching was it melted when in contact with the hot pastry. "!!!" The sound that came from Atalanta's throat as soon as she took quite a generous bite of the dessert couldn't be described as nothing but a shocked gasp. The feline Servant's tail and ears stood straight like bolts hurled by Zeus' mighty hand as she eyed Keisuke with wide gleaming eyes.

"Wha- what might this be? Did modern humans learned the recipe of the Gods' Feast?" Atalanta made an effort to remain stoic, even though it was clear that, inside she was all but melting herself in pleasure. With senses as acute as Atalanta's a treat such as that one was nothing but divine. And her joy was quite visible on the way slow way with which Atalanta ate the ice cream topped pie, as if she wanted to savor it, instead of the feral devouring she was doing at the boar from earlier.


"Allow me to apologize for my manners, milady. I'm not one used to this kind of generosity." Diarmuid replied as he eyed Medea, taking a good look at her figure. A Mage from the Age of the Gods, huh? What kinds on mysteries would this woman be able to conjure, especially if she claimed to be able to undo Diarmuid's curse, which had been laid unto him by the Gods themselves? Well, there was only one way of knowing.

"Will you need for us to go to a more retired place so you can concentrate on your magic, milady? I'm willing to follow you for the time being, given that my Liege raised no objections." They were allies after all, this much degree of suspicion could as well spoil their chances of fighting together in the future, which Diarmuid obviously couldn't allow to happen. Thus he waited, for Medea's instructions.

Keisuke glanced over towards the two people Atalanta was referring to and sighed. There was no way to confirm nor deny her statement, but even so, using the term 'men' instead of just 'people' felt demeaning. Though the intent behind her wariness was justified, the Enforcer couldn't help but smile bitterly in return.

"Well, I'll take your advice to heart, then, Atalanta. Even so, there's no need to generalize that broadly; not all men are blindly consumed by desire and greed. At the same time, though, I can't say that not all people are devoid of desire. Well, in the end it's more a matter of scale than anything, but I'll try to prove to you that I don't fall under the category that you so despise," he said, continuing to consume his meal at a much more controlled pace compared to his Servant.

The fact that Atalanta dropped an entire pint of ice cream on her pie caused him to pause for a moment, eyeing the spectacle with a bit of confusion and amusement before returning to his meal. That was interrupted once more, however, when the Archer began to eat the dessert. The shocked gasp that she let out caused Keisuke to turn toward her. The ears and tail that were perked up caused him to raise an eye out of curiosity, but when he saw her eating the pie at a much slower pace than she had the boar, the entire situation made much more sense.

"Tasty, isn't it? If you like it so much, I might just have to learn how to make some myself," he laughed as he turned back to his food, which by this point was almost finished off. "So, on a more serious note... Who do you think would be best to cooperate with? We're all allies on this mission, but there's a difference between a travelling companions and a person you can trust, if you get what I mean."


Kintoki continued mowing through the leg of boar before noticing Svetleaze's apparent reaction towards his method of eating. Though the idea of 'manners' had been floated around by Yorimitsu while Kintoki had worked as a retainer, they hadn't stuck as well as they should have. Maybe it was because his lord back then had been a bit too lax...?

Yeah, totally. He didn't quite get why something like that mattered, except that maybe it'd mean that people would look at his Master in a more respe-

Oh.
That was it, wasn't it?

With that thought in mind (for however long it'd last), Kintoki began to slow down the pace at which he tore through the meat, carefully sneaking glances at his Master through his sunglasses to make sure she wasn't too annoyed by him.

It was at this point, though, that he noticed another burly man staring at him from the other side of the room. It didn't seem to be any sort of hostile, but since he was still wary of Svetleaze's opinion on making or breaking friendships, Kintoki turned to the Servant in question and flashed a grand smile as a sign of goodwill before turning back to his food. Maybe with some small talk, he could get his Master to open up a bit more. He at least noticed the giant weapon she was carrying around, but she was a magus, right? Magical shenanigans and all that? Maybe something about that might help.
...
Or he could ask about why this place felt so... Shiny. Not gold-shiny, mind you, but shiny nonetheless. It was weird.

"So, uh... Why are all these magi strollin' around a place like this, anyways? Doesn't seem like the sorta thing you expect... Y'know?"

Richard Montag

@GreenGoat @Flamelord @Beloss

Even by magi standards, Walgrave was an interesting person to meet. His ancient, weathered nature left him with the unsettling countenance that appeared more fitting on a Dead Apostle then anything resembling the modern magus. It would have been rather intimidating if they were to meet as adversaries and sans their Servants, but at the present moment Richard had no such concerns and greeted the ancient mage with due respect. Names were exchanged and pleasantries made before Masters and Servants could sit around the table and discuss business.

"I am interested in entertaining a great many things, your offer being the predominant one currently." Richard said, unaffected by the aroma of the prospective business partner. Working with various gases and chemicals, often being more pungent then anything else, has bequeathed to him a hardy constitution in regards to his olfactory senses.

"Though I do feel inclined to point out the...haste, with which you sought out this meeting. I can't much recall a prior encounter between us, and I doubt my regular associates would have referred you to me, so would you be so kind as to tell me what it is you hope for in this discussion? Surely, with the cooperative nature of this endeavor, not even speaking of the capabilities of our host in regards to marshalling us, there would be no need so great that you seek out the nearest Assassin before we had even touched foot on contested soil?"

It was a bit early to discuss betraying everyone else in the room, and Richard wasn't of the mind to do so regardless of Walgrave's offers or threats towards his person. An alliance with a mage many times his own age was certain to be fraught with pitfalls, but he wouldn't be where he was if he turned away an offer without considering it, and for all he knew Walgrave could turn into a life long associate based off the connections established in conflict. This War was as much an opportunity to network as it was to save the time stream, or put forth the Magi's mysteries to the ultimate proving ground.

So in the spirit of opening dialogue, Richard procured a blessedly untouched bottle of red wine and four glasses, pouring for Master and Servant alike.

"I have always believed there are seldom few ways to get an exchange flowing better then with mankind's greatest alchemic creation."

---

Tamamo No Mae

@KoL

"Oh Master..."

The vulpine Servant couldn't help but find her eyes moistened by the sorrow and supplication of her Master, whose regret at even possibly offending the Servant was bare for all to see. Were it any other Master and Servant, well such a whirlwind of a relationship wouldn't even be possible, but Tamamo was fuelled by romanticism as much as she was by Prana. Some days she was amazed she didn't have a reality marble to impose her romantic ideals upon the world, and but alas there was no way for reality to cope with that degree of madness.

"No, no. Things couldn't be better Master. My concern was that the history written by my killers would not be as close to the truth as I would like, and would have you think me be some witch trying to beguile you before some untimely betrayal." Whether or not Servants could sneeze was entirely up to Madea at this point. Tamamo was of course referring to the Kitsune's frequent depiction as tricksters, and nothing more...probably. Her hand rose to clasp the one on her shoulder, features settling back into a more comfortable look of contentment. "But my Master is too good for that deception to mislead her. I'm certain I have the best Master for me."

So Tamamo released Seyrun's hand and turned her focus to the bounty before her. She found the food good, the wine great, but the company was best of all.

Alexander Nevsky

The servant quietly heeded his Masters request, now that he had been given direction with his initial task accomplished. He was more than content to continue along with them to the cafeteria, where they could have their food and learn a bit more about this modern era. Nevsky was looking forward to it, and he followed along as they continued towards the cafeteria.

Once they had arrived, Nevsky looked about to see that many of the others had arrived and were already busy taking part in their first meal after coming back to life. It wasn't that much of a surprise and Alexander went to go see what they had before loading up on ood as well. Indeed there was a lot here, and he ended up with some salad, prepared meat, bread, the sort of meal that a ruler would be able to enjoy in his time.

He moved and sat down near Montag and his servant without being too close, especially for the consideration as Walgrave arrived to converse with the Master that he had made contact with before. Now would be a good opportunity to learn about just what his Master wanted, which was something that Nevsky had been hoping to learn since he had been sent off.

Slowly sampling of his food, Nevsky was impressed. It was much more refined than his time, at a term, and less heavily spiced. The meat was tenderly prepared, and he had to compliment the cooking of this era. It had definitely advance since his own time, in technique and refinement.

At last Walgrave arrived, and Nevsky nodded to his master as he began to talk with Montag about what they wanted to do. "I can agree with that," he confirmed, taking his glass and nodding to those present before taking a respectful sip. He was definitely enjoying this experience of the modern world.

@Beloss@GreenGoat@Lonewolf685

@Flamelord @GreenGoat @Lonewolf685

---

"I have always believed there are seldom few ways to get an exchange flowing better then with mankind's greatest alchemic creation."

Walgrave accepted the wine offered and threw it back with a stiff mechanical motion. He almost fancied he could taste the fruit. It was nonsense of course, nothing but a pavlovian response to the action of drinking that dredged up distant memories from his early days. Nevertheless his felt his spirits lift after a fashion. With a chair finally under him his patience for conversation had turned from its former nadir and was swiftly approaching an optimum.

"Hrmmmmm. An Alchemy to be appreciated. You will have to... forgive my haste in attempting to reach you. An Assassin after all, is not one to stay around in the open and ahhhhh... allow itself to be identified easily. Not once it has had the time to conceal itself."

He studied the green suited Magus more closely. The man was quite well dressed, tastefully so, and with a mild pleasant bearing that suggested a well honed poker face. There was openness there, but distance as well. Walgrave found both encouraging. The man was neither nervous nor arrogant which was a pleasant change from typical Magi company. That he had summoned such a dignified and posh looking Servant, one who he noted could be little other than a fine English gentleman was only icing on the cake here. This was someone he could at least more or less understand.

"As for the need to speak with you, don't pretend to be naive." He muttered softly. Carefully he turned, glancing this way and that to make sure their was no one else near before he continued. "This company is of course gathered on behest of Schweinorg. For now we lay under his sharp eye, and are safe... but Zelretch has been haunting the halls of the Clock Tower since long before either of our grandfathers were born. He has no real aversion to backstabbing and treachery. He has been breathing them for all those years he has held the title of Wizard Marshal. This is why among all the Magi Lords it is he who has the most noted propensity for destroying his own apprentices once they have...ah... served their purposes."

Walgrave broke off into a fit of dry coughing. He had not spoken this much in a very long time and it showed, his voice becoming progressively more thin and raspy.

"We are banned from competition because for now we have produced no results. Once our goals have begun to be achieved... you will be wise to watch your neighbor. You would be wise to plan for such eventualities even now. Especially with an Assassin Servant..."

Walgrave paused and turned to give Assassin a small almost apologetic bow.

"A Master of Assassin stands on precarious ground. Even when cooperating his Servant wil get no love from the others of his kind. Proud warriors will see any victory of Assassin as stealing their glory. The other Masters will never know if they are truly safe from him. In a war where all are standing side by side the Master of Assassin will be the one left standing alone, whether or not the other Masters make it obvious."

"Your most wise course is to make a deal. Join forces with me long term. I am a skilled hand at bounded fields, these defenses will be contributed to your quarters along with the general assurance of my Servants strength. When the time does come when these young bloods begin to fight amongst themselves you will be secure. In return I will be spared the... attentions, of your genteel Servant when these circumstances arise. You will be able to deploy him, for our mutual benefit, without fear of vulnerability in his absence. As I said, if you accept my.... hrrn, generous proposition, I will give you and any of your family or associates who ask for it my recommendation for applied positions within the Clock Tower. I am... not unknown by the Noble Families there. In terms of funds I am willing to promise 60,000 Pounds up front as a small token of friendship. Any further we may discuss at a latter time after the fruit of our alliance begins to develop."

Leaning back slightly Walgrave took another drink, this one longer and less forced than his original. He might not be able to taste anything but the cool sensation of wine flowing down his throat was gratifying after the long speech. He surveyed the green suited Master's polite expression with his own dull stern gaze and awaited his reply.

"Well now, Tama." Seyrun said as she accepted the advances of her Servant as a proof that their relationship hadn't been ruined yet. The Norwegian mage then took a look around the dining hall, taking notice of the small pocket groups that seemed to be coalescing here and there. It was inevitable that such a thing happened, even within a group that was supposed to cooperate between themselves. In fact, being refused by the Einzbern Master before, put Seyrun in a disadvantageous position when it came to having closer than usual allies.

Nevertheless, Seyrun wouldn't be herself if she didn't had some form of backup plan.

"By the way, Tama," Seyrun called for her Tamamo's attention. "Why don't you call that other Servant who has been exchanging gazes with you this whole time over here? We could enjoy our time together much better in the presence of company. Furthermore, she seems like an old acquaintance of yours, am I right?" Indeed, if they could secure a Servant that was unlikely to betray them, it would be the best case scenario for the time being.

Still, Seyrun couldn't avoid stealing an occasional sight of the aforethought homunculus and her muscular Servant, without trying to make it too blatantly obvious.

@Lonewolf685

"Mmm... mmm..." Atalanta finished another mouthful of her treat before addressing Keisuke again, sizing him up momentarily even as her attention was still turned towards the treacherous plans being woven in the dark by the Masters over the distant table. Naturally, her huntress' instincts made it impossible to distinguish whether Atalanta was overhearing anyone else on the dining hall or not, unless one of the other Servants had equally good perception to catch the minute signs that even the best huntress of the Age of the Gods let out.

"I'll take your word for it, then, Keisuke. On both issues." Atalanta was about to indulge in the last bite of her pie when Keisuke asked her about the possibility of closer allies. His last phrase actually caused Atalanta to frown slightly. "... there's a difference between a traveling companions and a person you can trust, if you get what I mean..." yeah, being a former member of the Argo expedition and having taken part on the Calcydonean hunt, Atalanta knew it all too well, especially how these stories tend to end in the worst way possible for most who take part on them.

Even then, something in Keisuke's honest-to-the-Gods way made some of the few good memories Atalanta had of those episodes come back to her. The cat-like Servant finished her food with a single bite. Her lips curled in a faint smile as she propped herself against the table, stretching her muscles like a content feline, making the Amazonian beauty of huntress all too easier to notice.

"If you ask me, those two over there seem to be the best to seek any deeper allegiance, the Berserkers, I mean. They remember me of Heracles, strong men that live up to their word, even if they are louder than him. I don't know about their Masters' though, the one with silver hair looks like she doesn't like company, or better, thinks too high of herself." Atalanta replied to Keisuke only after slumping back to a more relaxed position. It wasn't much of a surprise that one who had an intimate connection with her own feral side and owned a Noble Phantasm that could turn her in a Mad Warrior on the likes of those two would point the Servants that were making a point of enjoying their time as much as she did as the most beneficial allies. In fact, if such alliance came to be, it would be a really fearful triumvirate of beasts in man clothing.

"By the way, Keisuke, I don't know why, but you remember me of Meleager. He made a point of always looking at everything from the bright side as well. I just want you to know that I'll stand by you even if the others betray us, as long as you don't change." After letting out such an statement, Atalanta got back to her feet and faced away from Keisuke, her back, which looked like it was chiseled by the hands of the masters of antiquity, was occasionally visible behind her mane of exotically colored hair which swished to and fro as Atalanta faced the Berserker that approached her earlier, after overhearing his idea of challenging Kintoki to a wrestling match, which aroused the fire of competition inside the Ancient Greece Servant.

"You there, Berserkers! If you want to challenge anyone to a competition, I demand to take part on it. As a hero of the Age of the Gods, I cannot let pass on a challenge of athletics." Atalanta raised her voice in challenge, not really caring to ask for Keisuke's permission first. As long as they did it as part of the celebrations, as wrestling matches used to be among heroes of the past, Atalanta didn't thought it would be forbidden by the Master of their expedition, i.e. the magus called Zelretch.

@Beloss@PKMNB0Y

@ShadowKingman @PKMNB0Y @KoL

---

"You there, Berserkers! If you want to challenge anyone to a competition, I demand to take part on it. As a hero of the Age of the Gods, I cannot let pass on a challenge of athletics."

Berserker blinked, wheeling around to locate the voice that had beat him to the punch in addressing the golden haired warrior. No less, it had jumped straight to the matter of things and challenged him as well!

As he thought, when his eyes settled on the speaker it was none other than the fierce eyed beauty with the weasel ears, the Brynhildr of the ancient Danaans. Sinfjotli planted his mailed hands on his hips, the snow white armor glimmering in the light of the hall, and gave her a bold appraising look. He did not see how she could hope to match with him in most contests, their obvious physical differences aside. No doubt she was blessed by some queer god and was stronger and heartier than she looked, but then so was he.

"I accept any challenge given. Either by you or anyone else in this hall for that matter. But come! We must gather and agree on a contest in common." He turned again and pointed to his original target of challenge. "What say you Golden Hair? If it's all the same we will let this fierce maid make sport with us! Though she may wish to pass on a contest of strength. Though that may go as well for you as for her, since in that arena I am contested by no one."

"Indeed, to have so many magi congregated outside of the Mage's Association is an aberration. For this, Master Schweinorg insisted that it was of great importance and called those of us that would listen," the homunculus explained, looking down for a second at her soup. Almost gone; her Servant's apparent appetite was influencing her more than she had given him credit for. Maybe a fear of someone coming in and eating everyone's food? "I came as the representative for the Einzbern. It was our efforts that lead to the creation of the grail that this ritual is based upon and a lack of our involvement could have been troublesome."

One of the other Servants, an unremarkable-looking man in her view when compared to her own gleaming Servant, apparently needed to massage his ego by picking a fight with Kintoki. Not content with being sidelined, some animal-eared girl thought to join the contest of athletics despite the rather clear disadvantage against how the two Berserkers were likely to compete.

Really, were some of the Masters such failures that even their Servants felt a need to prove themselves? Servants with poor judgement, nonetheless: to think that Einzbern would summon a weaker Servant that could be bested by the likes of them, without a serious and intentional choice to put themselves on such a level.

"Kintoki, please show these two how strong our pairing is."

---

"We don't need to go anywhere, just stay still," the former princess stated, clasping in her hand a certain... ominous dagger. It was jagged and brittle looking, unfit for use as a weapon of any description, and yet the point was being unerringly lined up with Diarmuid's face, "This blade nullifies any kind of magecraft in the world."

That was the limited warning before she stabbed him.

Scathach & Victoria

It was a hearty meal, and while it was good, Victoria cannot feel but that it could be better. But it was nothing to complain about; it didn't matter much if the taste of the meat was slightly overwhelmed by too much of one ingredient, or that the soup seemed a bit plain without much zest in it. Free food was free food after all. She was enough fast enough to be considered rude, but still had manners and proper etiquette to not be considered barbaric. While a Servant did not need to eat, Scathach nonetheless took part in eating the food her Master had brought, though she was considerably more reserved than her Master.

“T-Teacher?”

Scathach turned her head towards that familiar voice, a small smile already on her face.

“Teacher, I never thought I’d be able to see you again.”

"Neither I, you" She ate another piece of bread wrapped around some meat. "Certainly not out of Dunscaith, and certainly not in this sort of situation."

"Rangsca-" Victoria spoke with a mouthful of food before swallowing. "Someone you know?"

"Yes, he was a student of mine long ago. I've lost count of the years that had past since I've last seen him... " Cuchulain was more that just 'someone she knew'. All the memories, all the time they've spent... Had they not been summoned to protect the world from some dire trouble, she would had a match with him right here and now.

Victoria however, was eyeing the blue lancer, and his master. Did all famous Irish heroes wear these sort of clothing, or was it only Scathach and her students? She had had this idea that she could ask the Heroic Spirit to teach her some moves, but now she was afraid she would be asked to put on the same sort of outfit. She didn't think her heart would be ready for such a bold move yet.

@ADamnFiddle

---

Jekyll

What the old man Walgrave said was convincing, certainly. A Master who held the Servant known as Assassin would not be highly trusted by the rest, and certainly not by proud warriors. Jekyll was loathe to admit it, but being pragmatic makes life a whole lot easier. Backstabbing someone while their guard was down would be the obvious choice of action for one who held the title of Assassin, while a proud honorable warrior would allow them a chance to fight back. It was not unthinkable for Master to fear one who skulks in the dark, and propose an alliance with a Master who controls an Assassin.

It was not a bad proposition, giving money and perhaps position in exchange for what was essentially an alliance. With Rider around, he would not need to worry about him while he was off on a mission. Of course, that would also leave Richard alone with a magus and a Servant should they betray him. With the Command Seal however, Richard could command Jekyll to come at once, essentially teleporting him to Richard's location.

The proposed alliance had some risks in it, but most everything in life had risks attached to it.

"The proposal seems sound, but it does have its malus. Master, I leave it up to you whether you want to accept it."

Jekyll was neither for nor against the notion, either way he would respect and follow his Master's decision.

@Flamelord @Beloss @Lonewolf685

"The Berserkers, huh...?" the Enforcer mused as he looked at the two Servants in question. "Well, I can't deny that they're certainly... Physically imposing and a tad rowdy, for sure, but I'm not seeing much else yet. Raw physical strength isn't always the solution to problems, though, but... Hm..."

His Servant's mention of Meleager, though, caused Keisuke to pause momentarily as he processed the name in his mind. Meleager, Meleager...

"Wait, wasn't that the guy who killed his relatives to give the pelt of that demon boar thing to Atalanta?"

Though mythology wasn't any particular strong suit of his, once the call had come in for him to travel out here one of his colleagues had tossed him a few books and patted him on the back. He hadn't made much headway by now, though; Ovid's Metamorphoses was really not his style, but it was the only one he had managed to read, so the information was at least somewhat fresh in his mind. Hopefully, that comparison wasn't anything like an ill omen. Was it supposed to be a compliment?
...
Probably?

"Er... Yeah, sure. Meleager. Well, if I've said it twice now, I certainly don't think I have to say it a third," he said with a shrug. The memory of the piece, though, finally gave some reason behind his Servant's ears and tail. Turned into a lion by the gods. Right.

Gods were pretty weird with their justice, weren't they?

Atalanta's sudden declaration of a competition caused him to almost choke of the last bit of rice in his mouth, though. With a few coughs and a few moments of pounding on his chest with his fist, Keisuke turned to look between Atalanta and the two Berserkers.

"...Geez. Hope this ain't gonna end with a giant mess to clean up. Staff are never happy with giant messes after meals," he muttered under his breath as he slowly completed his meal.
'bout damn time, too.

---

"Uh huh. Uh huh. Aight, gotcha," Kintoki said, nodding his head in understanding... Or, well, what he assumed to be understanding. "So. Big bad incident. You're here to make sure things don't go 'kaboom' on us, then help fix that mess. Or is it 'messes'? Well, whatever. Point is, though, there's a lotta people here, which means that there's gotta be a lotta stuff to stop, right?"

It was a really big generalization, granted, but for Kintoki it was a good enough explanation to get the gist of everything. The only problem was probably the fact that he didn't know any specifics, but he could leave that to his Master to deal with if the need ever arose. It was then, though, that he heard someone call out to him from somewhere not within arm's reach. Which meant they were at LEAST talking above everyone else. Which meant...
Probably something to listen to, right?

"Hm? A competition? Athletics?" Kintoki asked, perking up as he heard the cat-eared Servant across the room, his head turning to face the source with a single eyebrow raised. His eyes were still covered by his shades, granted, but the curious smile painted on his face was information enough to know that his attention was caught. The call of another Servant caused the golden Berserker to turn once more, somewhat amused by the boasting coming from over there.

"You kiddin' me? There's a reason this guy's got GOLD written all over him!" he yelled back, getting out of his seat before realizing that his Master hadn't authorized any of this.

Until she did, of course. Oh MAN, was she a Master with a heart of gold or what?
...
Well, like, that'd be cool and all, but it was more like... Well, half stone and half gold? Gold ore?
Eh, good enough.

With that grin from earlier now turning into a large smile showing off his pearly whites, Kintoki cracked his knuckles and his neck before casually strolling to the center of the room. He was aware that any actual wrestling might cause some problems (namely, damage to the food still around the area... And maybe the floor. And the furniture. And the bystanders, probably), and thus thought for a moment before pulling an empty table to the space in front of himself, dragging along two chairs in the process. Turning to the Berserker who had called him out rather than the catgirl off to the side, Kintoki took his seat and motioned towards his opponent to take the one opposite his own.

"Arm wrestling. I ain't messing with the food by doing anything serious, so worst comes to worst, we'll just break the table. That golden with ya?"

Though he remained rather humble compared to the other Berserker, Kintoki was still quite confident in his own abilities. He had long since learned not to judge a book by its cover, though, if his escapades on Mt. Ooe were anything to go by.

The other Berserker swaggered on over to the other side of the table and took the seat for him, and thus the stage was set. Kintoki smiled as he and the other Berserker locked arms, elbows planted firmly on the table.

"Name's Kintoki, by the way. On the count of three, we go, aight?"

The Japanese Berserker counted down slowly, which was strange considering his mannerisms, but once he had shouted 'go!', both men seemed to tense up as they braced themselves.

It didn't last long, quite frankly. It only took a few seconds for Kintoki to gain momentum and a few more after that for him to go the rest of the way. Luckily, the table didn't break, but it at least showed the difference in strength between the two.

"Phew! That was fun!" Kintoki shouted, pumping his other arm in the air in victory.

@ShadowKingman @PKMNB0Y @KoL

---

"Phew! That was fun!" Kintoki shouted, pumping his other arm in the air in victory.

Sinfjotli stared down at the imprints left on the table from what had just happened, his eyes as wide as saucers, his mouth flapping open almost comically. For a good full second he was frozen, unbelieving.

Then he erupted. His mouth twisted into a savage snarl, his face turned beet red his arms and shoulders shaking. If the Heroes had been speaking loud enough to generally address people in the hall before, the shout he gave then would have been sufficient to be heard across an auditorium.

"DAMN YOU! AGAIN!"

The golden Servant was nothing if not obliging.

The veins on his neck bulging, arms rippling with power, breath coming in and out like a pair of bellows, his entire frame shaking with effort Sinfjotli strained against the arm of his golden adversary. He graced his competitor with a savage grin. He had been going easy on this man the first time, that was it! Now he would show a real effort and reverse this brief humiliation before the rest of the assembled heroes! His god blessed brawn, the strength of the last generation of the Volsungs, was unassailable.

It was around this time that his arm once more begun to bend backwards.

Sinfjotli's face turned from red to white as the golden servant matched his strength without a hitch and then some, crushing down on him with an iron grip unlike anything that he had ever encountered while he was still human. With the same steady but relentless force the Servant drove his trembling fist down to the last few inches above the table... and then smacked them down onto it with a loud 'thunk.'

The proud Dane broke away from his competitors death grip panting and furious.

"You... YOU!" He slammed his fist down on the table cracking it and pointed an accusing finger at the victor of the match. "You didn't compete fairly! You used some kind of trick! You bribed one of these vǫlur sorceresses to bewitch me! Dismiss your enchantments and face me like a man!"

@Beloss@PKMNB0Y@KoL

"Stop this at once."

Amedea, despite having spaced out for a good amount of time, knew perfectly well what had happened - or rather, could surmise it well. For all she knew, she could have just given her berserker incentive to murder her on the spot - at this point, she did not care. Either Sinfjotli would get himself - and er, by extension, her - killed by starting a fight right here and now or he would kill her directly; it was simply that in her position it seemed the best choice - rather, the one with the most likely chance of survival - to put her foot down instead of letting him escalate the situation.

"Berserker, I gave you permission to defend your honor as you see fit, that much is true. For all I know, he may actually have cheated. Nevertheless, you are my servant and I will not have you acting in such an unsightly manner over losing a match. Do I make myself clear?"

Although she made no direct reference, she placed her left hand over towards her right, right over the three command seals which were emblazoned on the back of her hand. Although she said nothing, the subtle message should be clear.

The competition was as short and one-sided as it was predictable, the homunculus decided. Her Servant, obviously muscular and incomparably shiny, had forced his opponent's hand into the table not once but twice, with no strain on Kintoki's part. The opponent seemed to not be able to understand this... and accused Kintoki of cheating. Not only that, he indirectly implied that she would lower herself to cheat for such a lopsided display. Her, cheat to defeat such an unknown foe? The nerve...

The drained bowl of soup met the table with an audible thud as Svetleaze rose, grasping the axe-sword. A second later, the table split in two to make sure that the Berserker would listen.

"First, you challenged him to a fair contest and were defeated. Second, you refused to concede defeat and forced another attempt. Yet you refuse to accept your own failure? A hero should know of their own ability and seek to exceed it or acknowledge where they can fail. No matter who you are, I can name one hero that would be able to crush you in might alone," the white-haired girl said, heart racing. Even with her confidence, to stare down a legendary hero was a challenging situation, "If you wish to humiliate yourself further, I will aid Kintoki or spend time to improve myself. If you wish to keep your pride intact, then I suggest that you remember that the purpose for your summoning is to work as a group and not insult any number of heroes that might surpass you one way or the other."

@AtomicNut
@GreenGoat

“Chocolate?”

It took Lancer but a moment to consider what such a word would mean. During his time alive in the isles of Ireland and Britain there existed no such treats. These would not reach the shores of the “old world” until the settlers in the Americas would trade in such. However, knowledge of “Chocolate” existed in his mind. Implanted in his memories from his summoning. After all, the knowledge of the airplane and the knowledge of the lights of the cities would be implanted within his brain, if only through a basic understanding of “what chocolate is”.

“Of course. A feast has been prepared for us by the curator of the Grail War, so eat to your heart’s content. The moral of an army is the most vital to its success. But you should likely eat something with more substance before you eat sweets, Master.”

It didn’t take him long to grab her a bar of what he understood as “chocolate” and give it to his Master. In a feast of such a proportion, there should be some sort of sweets and the like. But if he said that she should eat something ‘with more substance’, why was he giving her the bar…?

Lancer was a warrior, through and through. So long as the rations were in their favor, there would be feasts before a battle and feasts after a battle, so long as the latter had given victory to his side. But it wasn’t like Cu was someone who was used to loses. He was a monster of a warrior that should be treated as such, from his speed to his precision.

But he knew that merrymaking was not a pointless tradition of war. If there was a war to be had, one couldn’t loom over the fact they could die at any moment during combat. It was not something that should not be considered, but such trivialities mattered not to those having fun with ale and food. And if there were three things that Cu Chulainn enjoyed, they would be good food, good ale, and good women, though the latter of which he seemed never to have luck with.

A primary example of such would be the woman before Cu; his teacher.

“Ex… I suppose you could call her something like that. She was my mentor and the person who had taught me to become a warrior. I became a man through her careful guidance, and the proof of that is the spear she had parted to me.”

The legendary spear Gae Bolg. Though it was merely crafted from a sea demon's bones, the spear that Cu possessed was one of great fame to his name and legends. A spear that was unbeatable in the battlefield and something he had only used against those he cared about.

She was someone he treasured, both in body and in mind. One of the women he had loved and treasured dearly in his life and one of the few regrets that he had never been able to rightfully end her.

Just like Scathach, he wanted to train with his Teacher once more. Had it not been for his sense of duty to the war in question, and his sense of duty to his Master, he would have accepted such a challenge in a heartbeat. After all, a training session with Teacher was something that he could hardly pass up. There were surely things she had learned the time she had spent in the Isle of Shadows after she had closed off the borders.

But the ‘dog” could be at least happy with seeing her once again. He had never thought he would, after all. She should still be trapped in her undying state. If she was allowed to be summoned as a Servant, that must mean something unfavorable was occurring, or some sort of loophole existed that gave her the ability to be a Servant.

“But don’t worry about her “stealing me’. I swore my spear to you for this war, and I ain’t exactly the kind of person to not try my hardest after I say something. Teacher is someone I respect and cherish, but you’re my Master for this war, and us men of Ulster never back out of our words.”

It wasn’t as if he had never lied to someone before, but Lancer did not ever stop trying to follow the oaths [Geass] he had sworn. Even if he sometimes had failed his tasks, he never took an undertaking with any sort of lax. How could he? There was a reason he was a hero that many looked up to, and the greatest hero of Ireland akin to the Great King Arthur of England and Heracles of Greece.

“But still, if Teacher is here, this has to be an easy battle we are undertaking! There are hardly anyone I know who holds a candle to my Teacher’s skill at the spear!”

If there were hardly three spearmen who held a candle to Cu according to a Red-Jacket wearing Archer, then Shathach had to be one of those spear[wo]men. Though Cu’s style of spear play might have been influenced by his own battles, it was Scathach who had given him the knowledge and hardened his skills to approach the understanding and prowess he held today, and even if he wasn’t “That” Cu Chulainn, his love for his Teacher was still ingrained on himself, just as she had once given him the ‘friendship of her thighs’.

Ravel Livoria D’Arby

@Nanashi Ninanai

“Thank you for your compliments, Caster. You are much too kind to an inexperienced magus like myself. I’ll try my best to live up to the expectations you have set for me.”

Ravel would have likely given a bowed once more to the Servant, if the previous time she had Caster had chastised her on formalities regarding what she believed their “contract” as “Servant” and “Master” held. Ravel was the sort of person who favored tradition and respect over much else, therefore it was no wonder both her speech and her body movements were rather formal, but every now and again she did show a bit more of a casual side in conversation with those she considered close. Even her eating was very reserved and polite, hardly a mistake or a flounder in her methodical, yet elegant movements.

Her family on an extremely … “conservative” … path of magecraft that could be considered even “reactionary” in western schools. Curses were considered barbaric, but Ravel found grace in her craft. Even if the world would shun her, it was the precious thing that was passed from her family to herself that she would never let go of her crest and the knowledge she had obtained.

“If you are also a user of curses, I would do well to learn by your hands. Hopefully I can one day become a magus deserving of respect. Any little bit would help. If curses are what you are strongest at, than consider me a student as well as your Master, Caster~! I-if you would allow me, of course.”

Perhaps a bit contradictory; a master tended to lord over a servant, but in the context of Ravel’s perceived idea of how these sorts of instances were to work, Ravel believed it best to consider her Servant as a “partner” rather than a “tool” that most traditional magi might have considered them as.

Ravel was not the most experienced of magi when it came to direct combat. In fact, one could say that Ravel’s personality tended towards peaceful resolutions rather than combative ones. In the event this was a traditional war, she would likely try a more defensive approach and avoid killing the other Masters if possible, but she wasn’t really the sort to want to fight. She had a more peaceful mentality, though her preservation and desire to continue the line of D’Arbys might have brought her to break such a shell.

Then this sort of war suited her perfectly. To her, there was a clear line between those who were “evil” and those who were “good”. Those under Zelretch were clearly the righteous individuals who would protect the world from devastation, and those who would contrast against them were simply evil. But even so, she would not wish to place all the burden on a Servant. A compassionate fool to the very end, one could say.

“I am one of the few in my family that could potentially keep the bloodline going. In the event that I were to perish, then the Magus family known as the D’Arbys would likely fall as well. However, my family wishes me to bare them an heir, but it shames me to say as a woman I am inexperienced in that regard, outside of books and the like.”

It was truly something that Ravel was a bit embarrassed about. Her family had tried to set her up with suitors in the past, but her inexperience did leave a sour taste in the mouths of those who had given her grace. It was truly unfortunate, but Ravel didn’t understand what she had done wrong, but she would continue her journey to find happiness throughout her life, even if her current position might have been a roundabout means to such a goal.

Though she did sense something odd. Her Servant had been, for whatever reason, looking at a woman with the ears of a fox at a table that wasn’t too far away from their own.

“Perhaps you know that Servant, Teacher?”

But there was one last thing that came to Ravel’s mind. Something that perhaps she desired to ask, but couldn’t think of the appropriate means to ask it. Unlike the dignified speech she had been giving to Himiko for the time she was around her, this seemed to be a time where words seemed to fail her.

.”C-could I call you ‘teacher’?”

Perhaps it was stupid to get flustered over something as silly as a title you’d wish to give someone, but for an individual who was brought up on the harshness and mechanical thought process of a magus, such a title was not given freely to anyone.



@ShadowKingman

Shinobu had expected the individual she ridiculed to have responded in a negative manner. That didn’t happen. He simply didn’t respond and ignored her. That bothered Shinobu to an extent, but it was not like he had an obligation to listen to her. Even if he was a no-good pervert.

“Whatever. Rider, come with me. No reason to stick around here.”

There was a lot more she could do with her time truthfully. Shinobu was going to work with these people summoned by Zelritch just as she was, so it only made sense that Shinobu would have to interact with them. Even if she didn't seem to like many people, at the very least she would try to work with her allies, even if she didn't like them. After all, they were people summoned by Zelritch as well. Unless they were "that" person or similar to "that" person, Shinobu could likely get along with them enough for them to hold cooperation.

And so, Shinobu went to go do something else, likely to the party where everyone was having a good time because someone left the RP when I was talking to their character.

Richard Montag

@GreenGoat @Flamelord @Beloss

He listened to the offer from the magus many times his senior with stolid composure, not disturbed in the least by the blatant truths further laid bare before him. Walgrave spoke plainly and truthfully, no doubt from a position of experience both anecdotal and personal, which added a significant weight to his words that would have made a lesser man acquiesce without a second thought.

"That is a very generous offer, too generous if I were to say, but I feel compelled to point out an...error of perception." Richard said as he set down his glass and motioned for their group to look down the long table before them. Since there arrival the room had exploded with activity that was well beyond the pale of anything witnessed in the Clocktower, with many a rowdy Servant trying to demolish the furniture as well as the food, yet his wandering finger seemed to take care to pause upon those figures wearing the cloth vestments of Casters and the refined armor of Sabers

"The instant that they were summoned, all our mysteries mattered for nil. You are the second, perhaps third if we account for the Einzbern, most experienced Magus in this facility, and were this purely a conflict between magi then your bounded fields would be terror incarnate to assail, but we are not fighting with magecraft, but with Servants. Servants who are as apt in wielding magic from the Age of Gods as they are in rebuking it, which leaves us in a position where our own craft will do little to slow down a Servant if they truly wished to enter our rooms. Either of those wrestling Berserkers could just as likely topple a section of this manor and destroy the structure the field was bound too."

His hand completed its sweep of the room and returned to fold with its twin and rest on the table before Richard, the man's face impassive as he picked at the loose threads brought before him. There was no malice in his words and he didn't think Walgrave to be arrogant in his assertions, but being so long lived it was understandable that he would be confident in his abilities. If Walgrave was going to cast aside finery and speak candidly, then so would he.

That it would have been astonishingly simple for Walgrave to implant a bounded field that could kill Richard at his leisure was not lost on the dapper Magus either.

"Looking past the implausibility of mounting any substantial defenses that could not be disassembled, evaded, or bludgeoned through, there is the matter of your generosity. The overwhelming generosity of what you so kindly offer, and for such an ambiguous request as not turning my Servant upon you. Money, influence, protection, and endless options for renewal. Most families would be on their knees swearing their undying loyalty after a noble bought them out. No, I'm sorry to say that I won't begin a partnership by indebting myself to you so heavily I may as well have signed away my autonomy via Geass."

"Please don't misunderstand my remarks to be a wholesale dismissal. This still holds the potential to be worthwhile endeavor for the both of us, but if we are to cooperate then it will not be as Master and Servant. I will not accept your currency and for the duration of the war I require no favors among the nobility. The nature of our association outside the War should be determined after the War, and there is little to gain with haste in that regard. Accepting that we are meager in comparison to the Heroic Spirits around us should at least be a basis for equity in our treatment of each other, no?"

"A defensive field upon our sleeping quarters may prove lackluster, but I am confident in saying that they could serve ample purposes in regards to utility if we were to agree upon a neutral meeting location to discuss away from prying eyes. Detection of magi and spirits, as well as any form of concealment, would be of greater use to us. After all I am the Master of Assassin, so it would do me no good to act like a Knight class."

"The amended nature of our agreement should be read as thus; Assassin and I shall endeavor to preserve the lives of you and your own, just as you shall do for us. Continued survival will benefit us in both the short and long term, though we will save the discussion for benefits exchanged between us based on this relationship for a later date. I am perfectly content to keep my daggers pointed elsewhere so long as you do the same."

Richard paused, seemingly satisfied with what he had said and ready to turn over the conversation to Walgrave when his gaze shifted back down the table, brows furrowing in contemplation.

"Hmm, we may want to induct a more magically inclined Master / Servant pair into our cabal soon. Between a knight, an assassin, and a Caster, we would be adequately balanced to handle a wide deal of confrontations "

---

Tamamo No Mae

@KoL @ADamnFiddle @Nanashi Ninanai

With their bond a bit stronger after being tested, it was high time Tamamo got back to proving her worth as the greatest spouse ever brought forth by the grail and act to bring good fortune to her Master. Ordinarily seeking an alliance was fraught with mistrust and apprehension mixed in amidst the uncertainty of your collaborators identity, but for a blessed moment neither factors were hindering Caster in her pursuit of an ally for Seyrun. Across the way was a sister in arms against an unseen force aligned against them, and this woman was tied to Tamamo's past in a roundabout way so they had some similarities to work upon.

Downing her drink in an unladylike gulp, Tamamo excused herself from her Master's intimate company and circled around the table, carefully avoiding the arm wrestling match in order to arrive behind the quietly conversing pair of Himiko and Ravel. Quiet, yet still somewhat audible to the servant with ears like radar dishes.

"Teacher? Ara, your compassion is truly prolific to offer instruction to your Master so soon upon your meeting, and how wise a Master to seek out the tutelage of my priestess." Tamamo spoke warmly, strongly approving of the words she had picked up on the tail end of Ravel's conversation. Her every mannerism was eager to be united with the priestess, though she maintained a respectful distance with hands clasped before her. Unlike with her Master there wouldn't be any explosive outbursts of skinship just yet.

"I know you two must be busy getting to know each other, but would you like to eat with my Master and I? We would really be honored to share in your company, Himiko."

@Flamelord @GreenGoat @Lonewolf685

---

Walgrave listened to Montag's counter to his proposal impassively. It seemed that this man would not be taken in, but neither was he averse to future cooperation. He didn't like it, but could not help but feel his opinion of the man rise slightly. Here was someone who would play his cards close to his chest, and expected others to do likewise. A proper Magus in other words.

Walgrave smiled at his new associate, though on him it would have been hard to tell apart from a grimace. "I accept your current terms then. You are slow to... hrnnnn... invest yourself... with a Magi you dont know. Thats good, most... natural. You will see that everything I foretold will come true however. But no matter... no matter. I look forward to working with you in any case. Already some of your ideas hmmmm, intrigue me."

We will discuss more of this as it comes to it, but know; even yonder Servants, though they might ahhhh... tear through my best bounded fields like... paper, as you say. Even they will take a few moments to rip apart such obstacles. When they come for your head in the middle of the night, you may be grateful for even those scant few extra moments."

He smiled again and rose, giving a small bow to the both of them.

"Hrrrrn. We must... keep in touch. For now, while the day is young we have leeway to act as if all is well. I will meet you here again when the time is right, we will discuss whatever collaborations are necessary."

He turned and began working his way further back towards one of the far corners of the room near an exit. Idly he beckoned his Servant to follow him with a telepathic command. An interesting exchange, and as good as one could probably hope for at this stage of development. Still, it was worrying that he had not taken his money.

Walgrave was of course bankrupt, long ago having lost the interest or ability to accurately manage finances of any kind. Now though he wondered if word had somehow gotten out. Unlikely considering how long it had been since he had made any kind of fiscal move within the Mage's Association. No he thought it unlikely that anyone would doubt his capability to raise a sum such as he had stated, and even if they did there would be no way to confirm it, as letters of business would take months to cross the ocean, long after which he would have achieved his goal.

The critical point that Mr. Montag seemed to fail to grasp was that if all went as planned there would be no afterwards. Once he ascended to the Root and became a True Magician all other concerns would be trivial. Montag's own goals would have to be ferreted out later, but for now it seemed he would have to take things as they developed.

Walgrave reached the exit of the room and was about to go when he noted his Servant trailing behind him still. "Hrmmmm. Servant Rider... leave me for now. Go, introduce yourself to your... compatriots. It would not do for you to ahh, remain a stranger to your future comrades in arms eh? I will be safe alone... for now"

He added in a stronger telepathic voice "Keep your ears open. I will want your assessment of any Servant you find noteworthy. Pay especial attention to any other Servant you think might be an Assassin. Stay away from the Einzbern, but discover all you can about her Servant. Stay away from Schweinorg... if you can..."

@ADamnFiddle@Lonewolf685

Himiko simply smiled at Ravel as she listened to her answers. Caster had spoken a lot already, and she felt that her expression would signify her acceptance regarding the young magus being her pupil. The reverence the girl treated her to made Caster relive a part of her life as the secluded queen however. Rather than the young girl that ended up being her successor...this kind of reverence was more like one of her thousands of consorts. Which one was it? Caster couldn't remember. Her hazy memories due to the fog of ages only made things worse. Perhaps they all had the same face for all she could care about.

Even then, that piece of memory illuminated parts of her mind as Caster started to remember the reason she had that many consorts and secluded herself in the first place. She was never supposed to be a queen. Her land was torn by long lasting conflicts that were seemingly endless, and back then she was simply a priestess that was also dabbled with the demons out of curiosity. The people of the palace took her in when she was fourteen out of desperation, and they pushed her to use her curse to bring peace into the nation.

Ah, power. Caster was too dangerous to let live, but if she was killed, it would lead the land to ruin once more. And thus, she became a puppet queen ruling over an illusion of peace. Took a while, but she later on secured the position for real with her own efforts, but by then she was too bitter and paranoid. Surrounding herself with people she thought wouldn't betray her, and secluding herself from the artificial paradise born of her curse outside just to retain her image as a charismatic, mysterious ruler.

Himiko wished she was in a position to laugh freely right now, as those memories raced through her mind. Even now she's still that fourteen-years old kid, still failing to grow up.

But even then Caster couldn't disappoint her new pupil by showing she's anything but a wise and charismatic queen, right? Before anything else could happen however, Caster's trip down memory lane was briefly interrupted as Ravel's words passed through her ears.

“I am one of the few in my family that could potentially keep the bloodline going. In the event that I were to perish, then the Magus family known as the D’Arbys would likely fall as well. However, my family wishes me to bare them an heir, but it shames me to say as a woman I am inexperienced in that regard, outside of books and the like.”

"..."

An awkward pause that lasted for an eternity followed Ravel's statement. Her visible facial expression still stone-like, Caster was thankful that her mirror obscured any signs of surprise and embarrassment on her face at the perceived prompt and the possibility that Ravel was asking her for a tip. How would she know about any of that? S-she never even touched any men in her life except her brother! Admitting that fact to her new pupil would be quite shameful, and Caster believed that failing to say anything on it would also shatter the image she was trying to cultivate towards Ravel and everyone else. It was a no-win situation unless Caster could figure out an answer...a satisfactory answer, something enough to shift the topic away without making further questions-

“Perhaps you know that Servant, Teacher?”

"...Huh?"

"Teacher? Ara, your compassion is truly prolific to offer instruction to your Master so soon upon your meeting, and how wise a Master to seek out the tutelage of my priestess."

"L-lady Ama-?" A slip. Flustering greatly with the presence of the divine spirit she was supposed to worship, although perhaps not fully, Caster attempted her best to curb the teenager-like response and compose herself, although she knew it was a bit too late to restore any of her supposed adult charisma before the two around her. "W-what might interest you between the two of us here?"

"I know you two must be busy getting to know each other, but would you like to eat with my Master and I? We would really be honored to share in your company, Himiko."

"I...will be quite pleased to."

Even with the knowledge that this vulpine Servant really was the Divine Spirit she revered, Caster still found the fact hard to personally accept yet she couldn't just decline her offer. Even if she was currently being on the edge of shame, Caster found it to be no reason to be rude. And regarding the vulpine Servant's oddities...perhaps she was just misremembering the Divine Spirit's nature? After all, despite being aware that she was supposed to be her priestess, she could barely remember any instance of her worshipping the goddess directly. That memory fault could be the cause. That would be a good enough justification.

More importantly, as the realization of her current predicament dawned on her, Caster ended up being thankful that the vulpine Servant barged in at the right time. It was an excuse for her to avoid giving a direct answer to Ravel regarding her sensitive statement earlier, or at the very least, the two of them moving towards the side of the vulpine servant and her Master would delay the need for her to. Himiko stood up from her seat and plastered a smile on her face as she moved towards an empty seat near where the vulpine Servant sat, and she gestured politely to The Vulpine One's Master as she entered her field of view.

”C-could I call you ‘teacher’?”

"It is fine, but I would rather if you call me Caster. As for earlier..." Himiko visibly took a deep breath, trying her best to pull out an answer that sounded sufficiently wise enough. "Wouldn't it best for you to focus on your achievements as a magus first? As important as a heir would be, a legacy built by achievements and glory would still be valuable for your family."

Those words sounded like a bunch of worthless gibberish. That wasn't even following the values that Himiko and the people of her era believed, and it perhaps wouldn't even follow the values of the magi in this era. She paused for a bit, thinking about more to say to not let her words rung too hollow.

"It is also a bit too late to worry about that. We would be here for quite a while, and if you would die somehow, you would die while participating in this...war? But more importantly, unless you decided to settle with one of the fine magi here like, right now, you should not worry about it at all. Focus on your reason of being here and my future lessons for now.

Although, I suppose I could use some of my curses to..."

Himiko flustered a bit before stopping herself. Even saying that felt wrong. Her words lead to another bout of silence, as she hoped the vulpine one to say a piece of wisdom too, anything to bury the topic and shift it into something else. Meanwhile, on another table two Servants were having a round of arm wrestling that ended with one of them winning and the other yelling at the victor. Meanwhile, Masters were already planning something between each other. Despite them not being enemies here, perhaps it would be best if Caster started to think about closer alliances to protect herself and Ravel.

---

"Thanks for accepting our invitation." Seyrun's behavior was nothing short of demure and proper as she greeted her "guests", with the offer of a glass of wine. "Tama and I were enjoying this chance to be together on our own. However, a good meal is always better when with more company. Given that Tama --or should I say Caster?--" Seyrun mumbled this bit pensively, unsure of how much reverence to address Tamamo in front of others, "Either way, given that my Servant seems to be acquainted to yours, we thought about inviting you over. And, here you are."

"Excuse my manners," Seyrun extended her hand to her counterpart, "I'm Seyrun Leviathan, Head of the Leviathan Household of Norway. It's a pleasure meeting both of you under such unusual circumstances." For obvious reasons, Seyrun refrained from talking about alliances or anything of the like. Other Masters have already demonstrated the disposition to seek them and, no doubt, mistrust was brewing among them at this every minute. With Servants like Atalanta and Cuchulain around --beings that undoubtedly could hear them whispering from half a mile away, if the legends about them are true-- that would certainly mark them as distrustful, certainly not a goo way to begin a partnership.

Seyrun would let her actions speak for themselves, after all even a Servant whose tracking skills were legendary couldn't read minds --or at least Seyrun was sure that none of the Servants she had seen could. As long as Seyrun played her cards with their face down until the very last moment, she had nothing to be wary of. That, the young Norwegian Magus was sure of.

@Nanashi Ninanai@ADamnFiddle@Lonewolf685

Atalanta crossed her arms to watch the dispute between the two Berserkers, having an amused look in her face as she watched Sinjtol be defeated with easy by Kintoki. The huntress' eyes narrowed to a slit out of boredom when the black Berserker began to whine about the result of the match, completely contrary to the spirit of the Olympics of old.

Even as she took her place at the table, Atalanta's ears scanned the room. She had so far determined that the most dangerous being around was the horrid smelling Magus named Walgrave, his backstabbing tendencies were evident. Atalanta would take care of the threat as soon as she had the chance after all, she was none too keen on having one more dagger to care for tother than Medea's. At least, as long as Medea knew that she could call on the debt Atalanta owed her from the times of the Argo Expedition, the witch was unlikely to try to harm Keisuke.

Before Atalanta could have her chance of taking part in the games, the situation with the two Berserkers escalated quickly, leading to both of their Masters taking action to avoid a possible fight. "That was a disappointment, maybe trusting others will be a mistake on its own." Atalanta turned back to Keisuke, while dematerializing herself, "Let's stay like we are for the time being, Keisuke. At worst we will have to rely on the Witch. Even so, this lot is too unruly to seek alliances right now. By the way, do you have any idea of when this expedition will begin, I'm starting to feel unease. Going on the hunt would be good, now."

@PKMNB0Y

"If that's as you say, milady, then do it. For a long time I searched for means of removing this curse of the gods. Even if it's just for this summoning, it'll be a blessing to be free of it." Diarmuid replied to Medea. It was also on this moment that he noticed that his Master had left the summoning room while Diarmuid was distracted with Caster.

Diarmuid wondered where he had gone, but the fact that his Master allowed him to stay behind must mean that he desired secrecy. Diarmuid could only abide to that choice while he waited for the blunt looking blade to ouch him.

@Raineh Daze

Richard Montag

@GreenGoat @Flamelord @Beloss

He waited for Walgrave and his Servant to depart in the same stolid state he had conversed with the old mage. While he'd never say it aloud, there was something akin to disappointment welling up inside Richard in regards to Walgrave. Everything from his confidence, linear thinking, and casual disregard for his own wealth spoke of a typical magus in the upper echelons of their society. Everything would serve as a means to the End for a man like that, and that kind of goal leaves one with no compunction about severing their worldly ties if they felt even the tiniest inkling of progress was possible.

"I shouldn't be surprised someone thought this would be their ticket to the Root." Richard said when he was certain Walgrave was well away and his Servant went off to blatantly poach another Assassin in the hopes to get a better deal. He reclaimed the wine bottle and seemed intent to pour over the label while he spoke to the gentlemen he summoned.

"You know what I find fascinating about this stuff? It's not that its a great conversation starter, and I am by no means an alcoholic either. What's so very amusing about this is that Wine predates everything in this room. It predates the idea of heroes, Dead Apostles, and even magecraft itself. This has been consumed by the most heinous and the most righteous of men and woman, a shared link from before the tales of Uruk to present day and encircling the entire world."

"You may say that there are commonalities that simply must exist to survive, such as eating and breathing, yet wine should not be among them. Inebriation should not be the building block of any life form, yet here are still suckling from the grape vine. A unifying force that can be understood and appreciated by every soul, whether they be mundane, magical, divine, or undead. Even the Wizard Marshall would take his blood in a wine glass. I can tell you with absolute certainty if I had not been born with the capability for magecraft, I would have gone to start my own vineyard."

Regardless of whether or not Assassin had consumed their fill, Richard chose to refill both their glasses and savor a hearty mouthful of the mortal ambrosia. "Wine is such a splendid thing, with so many uses. It will loosen the tongue and unshackle inhibitions just as well as it carries the poison to assassinate a monarch. Personally, I find it to work as a lens to perceive people's intentions, and what Walgrave's glass told me is that we have aligned ourselves with a man who can find no joy in the world of the grape vine. I don't believe he will settle for anything less then stealing the chalice of ambrosia straight from the gods hands like most magi would."

Most would call this a laudable goal. Most. But Richard believed that he knew better then to try and reach the Root through a means devised by Zelretch. After all, he was a Sorcerer far older and more experienced then Walgrave, with the very multiverse at his fingertips and connections to every noble house and Dead Apostle Ancestor alive. If he wasn't showing the slightest interest in forsaking this world for the root of creation, then it was either a case of the Root being less then desired, or the world possessing more value then they give it credit for.

I'd like to believe in the latter.

Regardless of wistful philosophy and dour predictions for the alliance's conclusion, Richard rose from his seat with nary a wobble from the liquor.

"Now then, Assassin. Best not to spend this entire time being shut ins. I'm going to see about finding that witch the cat girl screamed about, so feel free to join me or mingle among the others." The magus said, leaving the bottle beside Assassin. "I'd rather not have you try and out-wrestle the goliaths, but if you find a deck of cards then they could be distracted from destroying the room with a game from your own era. Regardless, do enjoy yourself."

And with that, Richard excused himself from the table to seek out the parties who were likely still in the summoning room.

It was a credit to late Princess of Colchis that Richard paused at the door way and stared in amazement to find she'd already stabbed another Servant. This could only mean good things for the potential cabal.

---

Tamamo No Mae

@KoL @ADamnFiddle @Nanashi Ninanai

"Tama is perfect, Master. I will cherish the nick name always." Tamamo said with a radiant smile aimed at the Norwegian beside her. She was gladdened to see Seyrun had entered familiar ground and was perfectly at ease getting acquainted with Ravel. Confident that her Master could discuss things amongst themselves without Tamamo's advisory, she could finally indulge in being reunited with her errant priestess.

There were a great many things that Tamamo would like to discuss with the veiled woman, primarily regarding the blatant discussion of 'heirs' and 'curses' once they had seated across from the Servant who possessed the radar dish ears of a fox, but for the sake of not spooking the queen she choose to address a minor discrepancy she believed to be behind Himiko's adorable stutter.

"Himiko- Or would you rather Caster for now?- while we do know each other in a way, I want you to know now that I am not the Amaterasu that you worshipped. Well, I am, but I'm also not. I'm Tamamo No Mae, an aspect of her that..." Tamamo paused, eye flickering to her Master for an infinitesimal second before returning to staring at her reflection in Himiko's mirror. "Chose to live among the mortal world. Summoned as I am, and believe me this is no easy admission, but I am not the full Goddess you had devoted yourself towards."

"However, I think that is better for us. I've learned many things among the Imperial Court, just as I have on the Throne, and they all tell me that we can get along far better as two Servants of equal standing then as Priestess and Goddess!" Her voice rose along with the exuberance behind it, leaning over the table to the point she may as well have crawled atop and gotten into Himiko's face. She reached out, eager to clasp the Queen's hands in newly kindled friendship.

"So what do you say, Himiko?"

@ShadowKingman @PKMNB0Y @KoL @Raineh Daze

---

From all around the room noises of disapproval and condemnation made themselves known at Sinfield's outburst. He wheeled around, cloak fanning about him as he turned to face his detractors.

He blinked staring down at his small Master as she brandished her Command Spells at him and demanded he stand down. Opposite her the Master of the Golden Servant was even more strident, drawing a massive weapon that made him do a double take despite himself. It looked like nothing so much as an enormous hunk of raw stone, a weapon more fitting for a Jotun than a slender Magi with milk white skin. Despite its size she swung it with commendable speed and smashed one of the nearby tables to kindling.

Whoever this witch was she then completely ruined her impressive introduction by making some kind of troublesome shrill noise regarding his reasons for being here.

It was the narrow eyed look of disdain that the beautiful shieldmaiden was giving him that cinched his social defeat however. Looking from one of his critics to the other he wavered for a moment... and then broke.

"Bah!" He gave the entire room a dismissive wave and strode away from the table, slumping into one of the nearby benches and planting his feet in a wide stance before him. Slowly the tension in his shoulders eased, though his expression remained foul. If he felt at all ashamed of his outburst he gave little sign and less apology.

"Go on then Maiden, try his arm if you will. Or let us be done with this contest and try another! Unless you would all rather stand there gawking."

He leaned backwards to look at her directly and scowled harder when he saw that she had shed her physical form.

"Are you leaving so soon? We've hardly even begun!"