"As ye' wish, me' mastah." She replied to the girl with a grin, her bow held tight within her grasp. This is her forté, after all. Massacre, slaughter of large amounts of foes while speeding across the combat field. "Tseneglech, heed me' call. Bring out yer' great frightwnin' stampede!" She muttered softly while redirecting her horse not towards but straight at the magicians. she called it the Conqueror's March, the leader will always be the front, the vanguard. Throw your fears away, and just crush.

And she grinned. The field of combat, the place where she belonged. None had greater experience in warfare than her, her 60 years of constant fighting was her proof. From the cery first moment she stepped on a horse and hunted down Chinese-owned Tatar scum, until the day her father Yesügei Khan died, and when by blood and iron she united the Mongol tribes while she was but a small-town bandit chief. And she grinned again. The memories of her grand invasion of China, her wallbreakers, her loyal hordes swarming and murdering the villages scattered around. Her blood boiled at the thought.

She armed her arrow with Chinese gunpowder, a technique she invented with success. And she pointed it towards the army of spellcasters, before releasing the lone, armed arrow into the swarm. She delighted in the sound of the flying arrow, the gentke thwing followed by a soft, soothing pheeeeeeeooouuuu before landing in the mass, finally slipping out a earthshaking chhhroooowwww. The mongol warleader watched in ecstacy at the fireball explodibg from the area, and she almost began touching herself at the anguishing sounds of pain, fear and death.

She was so high on the rousing feeling of war that she let another arrow go. And a third. But not a fourth. "Why all o' a sudden do me' body tremble in feah'?" The conqueror muttered. Her grip on her bow was loose. Her body quivered. She.. loved it.

And so she turned to look over to the Saber in combat with the Berserker, her eyes cautiously watching their brawl. Whenever her eyes glimpsed over Saber, she felt her back go completely cold, her entire body trembling with aching fear. Well, that concludes the cause. Atleast her trousers were warm and w- "Hah... hahahahah! I bloodeh' pissed me'self! Oh, this is great!" she cheered in frightened bliss. And her body got the better of her twisted mind, driving her instead further away from the frame.

Well, atleast until Lancer took action. She peered with amusement at the efficient throw, and she couldn't deny the gentle wheeeeene amused her either before it struck the target. Aaand he was dead. That's it. Sarisfied with the victory, yet still dissappointed she couldn't feel that overwhelming fear anymore. Well, that's all. And without any words mysed, she rode over to her flying Master, her eyes peering up with a raised eyebrow. "'ey, Mastah, it's oveh'. Les' get outta 'ere... also, do teach this 'ere nomad 'ow te' fly, would ya'?"

And after that, she rode off. The battle was over, and she felt completely disinterested in staying here any further. She rode through the fields of dead children with an unremarkably lack of interest, as if the sight of their twisted, shattered frames with their guts plastered all over the shattered ruins didn't affect her at all. A piece of broken intestine fell onto her head, the disgusting scent of bacterial activity still hardly phasing her. Say one thing about Rider, say she's used to genocides.

Genghis was ways off when the sounds of combat returned, followed by a sense of panic. Her steed seemed to neigh and stamp with uncertainty, causing the blue-haired woman to turn her eyes back to the previous battlesite with renewed interest. And that overwhelming fear had returned, pulsing and throbbing within her veins, the sensation of disadvantageous battle that she so revelled in. The disorientation, the shock, it was all too similar to the time in her very beginning phase.. yes, not too dissimilar to when her breasts took shape and her body shed blood, and her first battles in the wild. Few combatants, victory claimed through surprise maneuvers.

Her infamous grin returned, the grin that haunts any Chinese dreams even a thousand years later. She grinned so hard that her cheeks began to burn of tear, her laughter deranged and twisted. The Scourge of Civilizations, God of Mongols, Ghenghis Khan, Great Khan of Mongolia was awoken. "Tseneglegch, seems we finally 'ave a foe wo'hy of attenchun...
Ya' ready, me' trusted maeh'? I got me' a feelin' ov dread, seems this 'ere bahh'le's lost. Les' get Mrs. Mastah 'nd get outta 'ere. Regroup 'nd countah." She muttered with renewed vigor. She had a war again.

The mighty stampede of the white horse ravaged back towards the battlefield, an arrow placed onto her bowstring. And without wasting another second, she fired it straight at her master! And the arrow exploded midair, a web of rope flying at the levitating magician, forcing her down to a random, white horse, seemingly appearing from nowhere. "Bahh'le's lost, deah Mastah!
Les' get th'fekk outta 'ere fer nae."

______________________________________________

A fine tavern, this place, the conqueror reckoned. Her horse neighed softly in agreement while Genghis' groomed her, the horse wet after a quick bath. The issue with white furred horses was, as always, that blood and piss stains were oh so visible, and Tseneglegch was doused in both. Admittedly the piss from Temäidchen herself, it wasn't a desired gift. And her horse was a moody one, always had been. Well, since her beloved child perished alongside the rider in the battle for Indus. Ghenghis felt her horse's pain well, the death of a beloved one was never a happy thing.

"If onleh those fekkin' Chinese aristehcrats jus' fell ovah 'nd died, we'd have ouah' children, Tse." She muttered softly. The memories of her first son, Jochi, haunted her still. His death was far too early, and she loved him dearly despite his foul plots behind her back. He was, after all, the firstborn son to her and her first wife, Börte. How that happened, no one knows. But Genghis and Börte, of course. And the trouble they went through to get Jochi was what made it so painful, a mother should never watch her child die before her.

She sighed softly, before shaking these sad thoughts out of her head. Tseneglegch softly rubbed her muzzle up along the conqueror's arm in comfort, and she smiled softly back to her trusted steed,"Aye, yer' right. Cannae' be sad nae. Thank ye', Tse. Love ya too." And so she giggled, yes giggled, much like a young girl. Well, she was in her youth's body, so that might be why, but her nose wrinkled up nonetheless. Did I just.. giggle? How peculiar! And with that, she decided to go back inside and get a drink. Now, to locate the bardisk and simply order the drink any civilized place has access to, the drink from her beloved steppes. She smiled almost seductively to the bartender, a knife twirling around the top of her index finger while flicking her lashes at him. And so she placed her order.

"Ye' don' have fekkin' Airag!? Wha' kinda tavern's this!?" Genghis groaned out in frustration, her head tilted towards the Berserker of the group in a 'can you believe this shit' manner. She had absolutely no idea what any of the drinks on the menu offered was, nor could she read them, so she just groaned out. "Y'kna wha, just gimme somethin'. Don' care wha'. Bloodeh foreigners 'nd their lack o' airag..." The keep just raised an eyebrow at her before returning with a glass of scotch, and the short conqueror grasped the glass with cautious curiosity. She took a whiff of it. Disgusting. Abhorrent. What a terrible scent. Just the way she liked it, she nodded and foolishly drank the glass in one go.

Now, here's the issue. Being in her younger body meant she hadn't gotten the alcoholic tolerance she gained over the many years. And scotch has a much higher alcoholic percentage than her local drinks as well. And thus Rider of Red, mounted on horses, became Rider of Pink, mounted on elephants. Say one thing about Genghis, say she's a flirtateous drunk. Poor Berserker was the target of her affections too, he was closest and she enjoyed both male and female partners.

"Oyh... Gol'nn boy.. ye' as gol'nn in bed 'swell? Woul'ya show this 'ere... Raidah~? Genghis emphasized the last word in a bubbly, drunken fashion. Oh the joy, she could use her class in a manner of seduction. Let's just hope her master didn't see that.

@KawaiiKyouko

Leon looked over at his uncle as his looked with disdain over to the loud mouthed berserker who was jeering at his staff for drinks. "Is that one of 'em Leon? Can't tell if it is or not. Looks like one of them fancy assholes alright." Collins said as he looked over his shoulder. He made sure to keep quiet in order to not piss off a potential customer either way. "Yes Berserker class. I don't know his name though. At least he isn't destroying things, and roaring." Leon said as Collins frowned deeply and took a more bitter sip of his drink. "Fucking Berserker class...for real? Those god damn assholes tend to lead to a lot of violence. You're aware I won't let that slip by in this bar right? I may not own the whole place by myself but I still won't let fucks take it a part if they get angry." Collins told Leon who nodded as he suddenly noticed another girl walk into the bar in a rather foreign looking outfit. The woman spoke in a different tone that the berserker did but she looked a lot better than the other one. Collins's eyes widened a bit as he gave a whistle as Leon only began to understand the depths of his folly in coming to this place. It was the one place in this side of the world he was safe but he suddenly realized what type of man his uncle was. The sly grin on his face was a wolfish one, and despite his drunk nature Leon thought better of his uncle. "Now there's a beauty Leon...real piece of work that one." Collins said as he continued to talk before Leon could correct him.

"You see foreign girls have a lot of weird stuff they're into but they're always hot as balls. Don't see too many Asian girls here in this end of Scotland." Collins said as he began to get up he straightened out his clothes a bit as Leon grabbed his hand. "What? Don't tell me you're going to give me some sort of spiel about god damn women. Leon I'm a hot-bloo-" Collins started as Leon smirked, "That's Rider. Not in the sexual way, I think, but the class from the holy grail." Leon began as Collins stopped full speed and stood there for a moment. He gave a grumble and smacked the table before sitting back down. "Of course...god damn holy spirits. Always got to be the hot ones doesn't it? I mean look at her god damn Leon." Collins said as he gestured over to Rider, and Berserker. "It's just the way things are uncle but why are you so hard against heroic spirits?" Leon asked as Collins looked at Leon silently. He looked serious for a moment as he looked over Leon. "Say Leon have you ever had a girlfriend? Ever gotten lucky with some poor girl? You're not bad looking for a guy. A bit shaggy but you seem to have grown up to be a nice boy." Collins asked Leon who eyed his uncle with confusion. "Um why do you want to know?" Leon asked his uncle as he didn't respond merely waited for him to answer, "The answer is no uncle. I've got some female friends but I've always been training with my dad, and or my friends. I want to get into a career for dueling. I enjoy a good challenge and with my family line of fighting I thought it would be natural. Thus I never really have had the chance for a girlfriend." Collins said as he looked down at Leon with an amused grin. "Alright then Leon I expected better of you.
Come on here for a second." Collins said as he grabbed his nephew and pulled him up off the chair. Leon still felt disappointed about his failure earlier today. So he expected something from his uncle but not a pep talk about girls.

Collins pulled Leon all the way over to where Rider was sitting, and Leon looked up confused at his uncle who stood a little taller than he did. "Hey sweetheart got a moment? My boy, and I were talking over there and he was being a bit coy about it but..." Collins said after tapping Rider on the shoulder a bit firmly. "Turns out that the boy thinks you're pretty hot. He's never had any experience with a woman care to show my boy how to treat a woman like you? I know this sounds pretty stupid but the kid needs to experience in bed." Collins said seriously as he gripped Leon's shoulder to prevent him from getting away as Leon's face lit up red, and he glared at his uncle. "H-hey! Wait a second I didn't-Uncle Collins this isn't cool!" Leon said in embarrassment. It seemed his uncle planned to try to throw him under the bus. "Not that you aren't a pretty woman Rider I just I mean uh how should I put this?" Leon started as Collins laughed and patted Leon on the shoulder clearly amused by this whole thing. "What the boy is trying to say is he wants to get you in bed but he's too polite to say otherwise." Collins stated confidently as Leon looked up at his uncle in utterly speechless. He couldn't even respond to his uncle's statement it was too blunt, and caught him off guard. How the hell did you deny something like that?

James was quiet as he sat behind the the wheel of the car he had stolen in his escape from the blood-soaked battlefield that have engulfed Urquhart Castle, a silent thank you milling somewhere in the recesses of his mind for the piece of shit gangbanger that was his father for teaching him how to pick the lock and jump-start the engine. While he could have attempted to make his way on foot to the rendezvous point, he had decided to acquire his current vehicle for two reasons; Firstly, he could take a more indirect route to the tavern, meaning he could shake off any enterprising pursuers before he got there, and secondly, it gave him time to clear his head.

It was far from the first time he'd seen death that close, it was practically assured when you spend half your life in the arse-end of a city like Detroit. Hell, he'd already killed a man by the time he turned 13, so it wasn't the death that threw him off, even a massacre like that. It was the fact that Ayondale had, once again, found a way to fuck him and everyone else over one more time. He, truthfully, couldn't care less about the others, but they were the ones that would have let him stick his finger up at the man for once. Instead, he'd managed to kill off most of the students supporting the 6 Masters, 7 if you include Leon even though he lost his chance, and now he knew that they were gunning for him, which meant he could prepare himself for any assault James or the others could attempt, bolstered by the fact he had the most powerful class of fucking Servant. An unaware and undefended Ayondale? James could take him out, with enough luck and careful timing. An alert, ready Ayondale backed by a Saber servant that won't fucking die and that soulless doll that thinks it's his daughter? No way in hell, even with 6 Servants and 6 other Mages. They were simply too inexperienced. His hands tightened on the steering wheel and it groaned in protest of his grip.

He sighed and relaxed his grip as he tried to relax back into the seat with a quick glance to the passenger where his Servant was situated. It was because Archer that he'd hijacked a car instead of his preferred ride of a motorcycle. He was vastly more comfortable on two wheels than four, but he wasn't sure if the servant to keep up with him in Phantasmal Form, if he could even access it, and he wasn't gonna risk having him sat behind him. Then again, he was thankful to have stolen something in the first place. After Saber had pulled his fucking zombie-mode, everything just went to shit... and that thing in Ayondale's hand, it just felt wrong.

"Archer, answer me truthfully. What in the fuck happened back there?"

---

It took just under an hour to reach Inverness, or at least a secluded side road 10 minutes away from it by foot, having gone the long way via Kiltarlity and Kirkhill villages. James pulled the car off the side of the road, killing the engine and quickly retrieving his rucksack with his supplies inside and his fire-arm Mystic Code in a discreet firearms case from the boot of the vehicle. The cheap hatchback had just enough fuel to get them this far, but with its purpose served it had to be removed, destroying as many links to James as possible. Releasing the handbreak, James rolled the car down the grass verge and into a shallow ditch before following it down and placing his hand on the surface. Carefully applying his mana, it began to spread throughout the metal like softly glowing orange cracks, filling every available space until the entire vehicle was cover and, with a final push of mana, the surface and interior erupted in flames.

Mana Remaining:158/210

Burning car behind him, he climbed back up the verge and collected his bags without a word, motioning for the French assassin to follow him. A good 20 or so metres of walking went by in silence until James offered a quick warning and/or instruction, the events of the day finally catching up to him and the tiredness beginning to set in.

"I give it 3 minutes until the fire reaches the petrol tank. Let's get moving."

The rest of the walk was uneventful, omitting the predicted explosion of the car's fuel supply, and James spent it in silence as he walked, at least until the Deacon Arms Tavern was finally in sight. He watched as the ridiculously golden figure of Berserker burst through the door and had to repress an agitated sigh. Was it too much to ask that they just meet up and sort this whole mess up quietly. Shaking his head with a minuscule growl, he made his was over and opted for a vastly more polite option and tapped his knuckles against the door. The door open enough for a man to peer around the corner. The rough-looking man looked at him for second, as if sizing him up, before the younger magus spoke.

"I'm here with Leon and the French kid."

The man grunted in confirmation and stepped aside to let him and Archer inside the building. He made a quick note of those present before he crossed over to the bar and sat down, not far from the Berserker pair but certainly not close enough to the inebriated Rider for her to select him as her next target. His drink order was brief and to the point, a Double JD with ice. While not enough to get him utterly wasted, it certainly helped him numb the experience of tonight. God knows he need it. He watched with no small amount of exasperation as the man he identified as Leon's uncle tried to hook the boy up with Rider of all people and took a large mouthful of his drink before putting a hand over his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. Rider was definitely attractive, but he had a feeling that Leon had a slight chance of finding out why sleeping with a Heroic Spirit is a bad idea...

---

Albert jumped as Assassin appeared behind him without so much as a hint of warning. No, scratch that. After the events of this evening, he practically leaped, letting out a tiny, adorable 'yelp' as his heart rate shot to nearly 300 bpm. For the love of...

"Assassin!" the frightened little mouse squeaked, exhaling. "Oh zank god. I... I-I wasn't expecting you to manifest physically. At least not 'ere..."

Realizing how pathetic his reaction made him look, Albert's face turned bright red. Damn it all to hell, he hated being jump-scared! That's what he got for summoning Assassin...

The young French Master coughed and sighed, letting his guard down once again.

"I appreciate your timeliness in coming to my side, but from now on, can you not just sneak up on me like zat? Assassin's job is to spook ze enemy, not zeir own Master. I'd prefer it if you'd refrain from giving me any more reasons to be paranoid zan I already 'ave. Anyway, on to ze matters at 'and I suppose..."

Albert glanced at the bath he'd started to run, then back at Assassin. Should he...?

"You are Roman, correct?" he asked more as a courtesy than anything else. "Zen you wouldn't mind if I continued wiz my bath? I'm rather short on time and money at ze moment, and ze owner of zis... 'establishment' charges for use of ze 'ot water."

He scowled, as if cursing the man's very name. Luck o' the Irish... bah.

Slipping a towel around his waist for his Servant's sake and his own, Albert unbuckled his belt and let his ripped-up pants fall to the floor beneath him. Being careful not to lose grip of his curtain of modesty, Albert slid into the bubbly tub of hot water, immediately relaxing as he submerged himself in the cleansing broth. He sighed with relief, muscles unclenching. What a long day it had been. He really needed this right now... after...

Every time he shut his eyes, he could see them. Hear their screams in the dark. The comrades they'd lost today were gone forever. The friends they'd sacrificed like sheep to the slaughter washed their hands with blood. Their phantom pain seemed to linger in the air around him like a miasma. Like a stain that could never be washed out. A bright red, ugly thing. Just like the pen Ayondale used to score papers. Ayondale...

After remaining quiet for a short minute, Albert opened his eyes, ready to be done with the thoughts inside his head. He was tired. He had to speak to his Servant. Before the pain and exhaustion took him.

So he explained the Holy Grail War to her. He told her everything, about himself, about Ayondale, about his fellow students and the attack that had claimed so many lives. It all just came spilling out. Assassin needed to understand, but more than that, Albert just needed to talk.

But finally, they came to the difficult question. The bathwater was beginning to grow lukewarm, the islands of bubbles shrinking into a nearly flat and placid surface. It was now or never. He had to know before they could proceed any farther in this relationship.

"Assassin," he said, not really looking at her and hoping she wasn't really looking at him, "I have somezing important I need to ask you. Now, zere really isn't any easy or polite way to say zis, but... I don't zink you're ze Servant I meant to summon. Zat cape I used for ze catalyst... it belonged to Emperor Claudius, of ze Julio-Claudian dynasty of ze early Roman Empire. AD 41 to 54."

Albert slid further into the tub, keeping his chin just barely above the water-line. Underneath the sudsy surface, his hands were fidgeting.

"Now unless ze 'istory books 'ave been severely misinformed as to ze genders of famous Roman emperors, I can only assume zat you are not ze man I meant to call forth from ze Throne. You are not a man after all. Zerefore, I can only assume zat you must be one of ze many women in Emperor Claudius' life. Ze Grail does not make mistakes after all, and ze man 'ad quite a sordid 'istory wiz members of ze opposite sex. More's ze pity for 'im..."

A couple of the bigger bubbles popped. Albert smiled weakly, trying to hide his anxiety. This conversation would have been much easier if he wasn't technically naked.

"So... who is it? Who are you, really?" he asked nervously. "Are you perhaps Agrippina, his last wife? She is said to 'ave poisoned 'im to get Nero on ze throne. Is zat why you were summoned as Assassin? Zis is not to judge you or anyzing, I would just like to know ze truth about who I am supposed to be working wiz."

He tried to keep his tone calm, level, and conversational, but truth be told he was rather frightened. He imagined there wouldn't be many Servants who'd be happy to hear they'd been summoned by accident, and the last thing he needed was to have a bad relationship with the woman who'd poisoned her own husband just so her son could take the throne. If a spouse was no big deal, what might stop her from offing her Master if she felt she wasn't getting the respect she deserved? Assassins could be an unpredictable lot once you began to deviate from the adherents of the first true order of hashashins...

How... long had it been since the battle, again? Olympia wasn't quite sure. She lay sullenly on her bed, flipping aimlessly through the copious pages of her Mystic Code, briefly skimming the words each contained. It wasn't merely a magical tome; inside was a complete story, as written by somebody or another but never fully published. She was thankful for that, but more so thankful for the book itself, which had assisted her many an occasion within her education, providing she wasn't simply some third rate nobody without any good magical aptitude. If she had been born to different circumstances, maybe she would have been a great Mage - intelligent, talented, and powerful - like Marcus.

Why was she alive? What purpose did her existence hold in the mess of reality, so stricken with the endless cycle of pain and torment to really explain to its protege's what exactly they were meant for? In a short answer, she existed to further her brother - to give up a bright and prosperous future as a Mage of the Whitehall family so that her brother could become the most successful Rune Mage to ever exist. But she couldn't accept that. It made her sick to think that her family could knowingly and willingly partake in such a vile practice.

Using their own children as stepping stones? In Olympia's head, it sounded like a sick joke. To think, people truly existed who would exploit the young of the world for their own success, who would step on the vulnerable in search of their own goals. But it wasn't like she didn't know people like that could exist. After all... Ayondale was one such man; a detestable psychopath, steeped in the blood of hundreds in pursuit of nothing but selfish interest and personal satisfaction. His hands were soaked in the life essence of countless, she was sure.

The truth was she was scared. Lying there on a bed provided in part by one of the other members, in the ash and ruin of their short held victory against their pasts and futures alike. What was the point of the mission any more? In the final moments before she, accompanied by Morgana and Sonja, she had caught glimpse of the battle as it raged. Ayondale's Servant had been killed, and in the joy all had felt at the accomplishment returned to life not minutes later, wreaking havoc upon their forces that were, until that moment, considered a match for anything the Professor could throw at them.

In that singular moment, Olympia felt utterly defeated, and that emotion had pervaded up to and until the present. On the way to the Tavern, she felt utterly dejected. She had even abandoned her Servant to do battle, despite being physically the weakest of every Servant summoned. In short... She was a failure of a Master. Within the confines of her guilt and sadness, she couldn't help but wonder whether she was worthy of the Command Seals tattooed onto her hand. Just because the Grail chose her... Why did the Grail have to choose her of all people, of the hundreds of students who wore their grudges against the teacher like warpaint. The logic of it baffled her the more she thought in depth about it. Without a doubt, she was the weakest of the Masters, both Magically and mentally; she had no Magical Crest, and was shy, lacking confidence in what minor abilities she did possess, and was driven to her heels with fear at the sight of her once and former Professor.

The only thing she could, with any semblance of genuine belief, consider powerful within her arsenal was her Eyes. Mystic Eyes of Flame... A completely combat oriented set of Eyes, who's sole purpose seemed to be to cause as much damage as physically possible. Was that what she wanted? Did her existence as a tool for others make her want to destroy the things around her, to hurt people, to break what shackles constrained her and escape out of her futile reality to further and greater heights? She couldn't help but wonder if those heights were attainable, even if she were free. And...

Freedom would mean she would have to hurt people. Mentally, and physically. She would have to kill people to get what she wanted. The thought turned her stomach sour, and forced her hand over her mouth to stop her from retching atop the bed. Stepping on people, murdering them, no matter their right nor wrong doings against her... That would make her no different from Arieh, the man she so despised. If freedom meant becoming like him, regardless of how different they truly were, she would rather give her life to servitude. A voice in her head said that was why she was used and abused as she was, like a pickaxe or shovel, made to be utilised until it shattered, then replaced with another identical, if not better version.

Olympia Whitehall had always let others do what they wanted; it wasn't like she had the power to stop them. She had joined the war because she hated that. Was that the reason? Involuntarily she clenched her fist tightly into a ball against her chest, and her body up into itself, chilled by the existential depression that had set upon its owner. Everything that had happened in the past twenty four hours... In truth, she no longer wanted any part of it. But she couldn't just turn her back on everyone now. There were people counting on her; people, her friends, who needed all the help they could get if they wanted to have any hope of winning in the battle against Ayondale.

Without realising it, she had started crying. She choked up a slight laugh at her situation, looking around the room as she pushed her way up into a sitting position. Even if she considered herself an incompetent Mage, and an abysmal Master, she wasn't utterly and entirely useless. She had abandoned her Servant, but she would never forget about him, not even in the chaos and despair of the battlefield Ayondale had created.

While she was still hazy on how Servants worked exactly, Oly knew enough as to where she could use them effectively enough. "Daedalus? Sorry, uh... Caster. I've already escaped. Please, as soon as you can, get out of the fight and meet join everyone at the Deacon Arms Tavern. Or... just come find me? I don't remember how Servants work properly. Sorry..." was the message she sent to him, moments before the three girls left the castle entirely. Whether or not he had actually arrived yet, she wasn't sure.

She stood from her bed, and stepped into the bathroom, looking over her tired expression in the mirror. Her hand reached for the tap, and twisted it until water began to flow from the nozzle onto her waiting left hand, which curled into a scoop to collect it. Her other hand joined it, and together they lifted to her face, dousing it in cold water, immediately releasing a chill down her spine and along her arms. She wiped at her eyes, cleaning away the dirt from the fight and the sleep from her short nap. There wasn't much she could do about the dark circles that had since formed, but they would fade soon enough after she got some actual rest.

From there Olympia dried her face, and exited her room into the rest of the tavern. It was a nice place, not that she had been inside many, and she couldn't complain about the facilities; not after the hell they had all just been through. She made her way into the main area, where some of the others had congregated. No doubt Albert would want to have another pep talk with the group, and if it where to be located anywhere it would be there. She took a table, and sat, something of a ways from the others, as to escape from any needless chatter. Not that she didn't want to talk; in truth, she did, but whether it was the right time or not was beyond her.

Sat and comfortable in her seat, she sent a message to Caster. It wasn't much of a message, though, more of a signal, indicating her location in case he didn't know otherwise. If there was anyone she felt comfortable with talking to at the moment, it would be Daedalus; they were Master and Caster, and they shared a Contract. Plus, she needed to get to know him better. Maybe it was foolish to get too attached... Chances were he'd be killed anyway, but she didn't want to think about that eventuality. There had been too much death already for her...

A gentle flick with her empty glass was all needed to signify another order. She shouldn't, but then again, Genghis has never made any wise decisions while drunk. Only lucky ones. Like invading China. Oh, how she remembered the laughter around the campfire when she got that idea, the ludicrity of it. No Mongol had, after all, never crossed the Chinese Wall with success. Well, Genghis proved them wrong. So terribly wrong. She just went, "Ye' knae? Les fekkin' do it." And they did. Rider loved proving people wrong, and her life motto was a testament to that: "If you're not afraid, do it. If you are, don't." Works for her, she's rarely afraid, and when she is it arouses her.

The glass was placed down, though this time she thought it'd be wiser to drink it slower. The alcohol was already surging within her mana-infused body. She thought that while she drank it all in one go, her eyes casually gauging up the people around the tavern while waiting for Berserker's response. Well, the sights could be concluded quite simply: Wailing children. Have they never slaughtered a village before, Genghis thought lazily while examining the kids about. They seemed sad, tired, weak of mind. Well, aside fron her Master. Genghis lips twisted into a grin, she was lucky. She didn't get a baby she had to babysit, but a coldhearted warrior. Good.

The military genius' thoughts concluded with a gentle tap on her shoulder, and sensing no danger what-so-ever, she took her damn time to turn around to face them. She was a little to drunk to note exactly where they are, after all. She squinted her eyes while attempting to focus on him. Them. Whichever it was. Okay, them. An older fellow, quite handsome she reckoned, and a younger boy with a shy, boyish aura despite his good looks. That's atleast The Drunken Conclusion, and her head tilted sideways. A curious tilt. A pondering one.

"Hey, sweetheart got a moment? My boy, and I were talking over there and he was being a bit coy about it but... Turns out that the boy thinks you're pretty hot. He's never had any experience with a woman care to show my boy how to treat a woman like you? I know this sounds pretty stupid but the kid needs to experience in bed." ?

She looked at the older man while listening to his words, a soft smile lingering on her lips at the words. She peered over at the boy again while gently listening to his shy reluctance, before breaking out into a hearty laughter at the older fellow's straightforwardness. She resoected that, "Aha, so this 'ere boy ain' had his virginity done n? Back in me' 'ome, ain't no virgins 'bove th'age o'.. hmm, 16 Summehs or so. She thought for a moment, stopping herself from getting sidetracked. She tended to do that while under influence. Hence the whole China thing. "I ain' mindin' beddin' th'boy 'ere, buh should say he seems a bit distrau'h from th'day events, aye? Well, let ol' Raidah fix tha' tensity.

She didn't lie, her hand moving straight to his shirt before pulling him close. In Mongolia you take what you deem is yours, and Leon is in this moment Ghengis', granted to her from the generous Uncle. The boy's head were kept hovering quite close to her own head before she uttered a few words, "I tasted many a folk 'roun'th'worl', but a pink-skin I ain' tried. Hope ya' taste as delish as ye' seem, creamyboy." Lraving him no room to respond, she darted her head forth, locking their lips. Say one thing about Genghis, say she's a great kisser. And a relentless one too.

She kept him interlocked with her lips for what could seem endlessly for a firsttimer, though in reality it was just a couple seconds. Rider didn't hold back, tongue and all was incorporated in the mindcleansing process, and the poor boy couldn't really slip away even if he wanted. Ghengis might not seem strong, but her grip is second to none. Some fellas have experienced that with terrifying result. Atleast it's an effective interrogation tool, if not a painful one.

She finally let him go from her lips, peering into his eyes with drunken lust only a Mongol warlord and rapist could hold, but she figured he'd feel better from that alone. Not that she cared, she just seemed satisfied. "If ya' still wan' me, jus' talk ta' me when I ain' shitfaced. Bloody 'ell, ain' no chance I can mount none nae." She's not wrong, atleast. But who cares, she wanted to drink some more for now. "And don' be 'fraid you eitha, ol' timer." She noted to Collins with a playful wink, before turning back to the bar. She was going to find out one thing this evening. Can heroic spirits puke and black out from alcohol?

@KawaiiKyouko

"I'm alright I just need time to think straight. Tonight was crazy to say the least." Leon stated as calmly as he could given the circumstances. Rider seemed a bit to willing was it because Collins had given her a free drink, or was Rider just like this? He wondered if the beautiful woman in front of him really was serious. He tried to control himself but his heart thumping in his chest did nothing to help the situation at hand. His mind demanded his body to not given into stupid temptations brought upon him by his uncle. He managed to stop himself from shaking a little and composed himself be repeating his family's words mentally: Accept No Substitutes. That was the code Leon lived by and he would be damned if he fell into a god damn hole like this However as Rider accepted the purposeful in her bizarre accent Collins grinned as if he had caught himself a fish before. Leon on the other hand tensed up even more. He gaped his mouth open a little before shaking his head a bit, "Wait are you serious I mean I-" Before Leon could protest in a more intelligible manner the woman quickly, and ferociously locked lips with him in a moment of passion. Leon was taken aback but he could already hear the voice in his head demanding him to actually go with it. And it also didn't help that Collins's said to go at it.

Leon forgot himself in that moment and went forward with it more out of instinct than nothing. There was that primal part of him. One that ran in the Winchester Line if what his father had taught his father taught him was correct. The Winchesters never lost a fight, or a challenge lying down and taking it. Leon in the moment decided that this was just another thing for him to show his superiority at. Leon wrapped his arms around Rider's shoulders and forced the kiss back at her with as much force as he could. Aggressively pressing his tongue into her mouth in turn. He passionately pressed his lips against hers in return determined not to lose as the two let what was natural go forward. What Leon did with his tongue, and lips in that moment be it curling around Rider's, or whatever he did was simply based off natural instinct. He honestly had no idea why, or what he was doing at the moment. As the two broke apart Leon felt his breath a little heavy and his mouth covered in saliva. His eyes were a bit dull for a moment afterward but Leon made a grin, and chuckled, "If you think you can beat me in bed then you should be coming to me later, not the other way around Rider. I accept no substitutes because no one is better than me." Leon said he wiped the saliva off his mouth. He confidently chuckled "I'm not even sure how it would work but I'm no easy target..." Leon said as Collins hollered out laughing his hand on his face it was both out of incredulousness, and some actual pride.

"That's my fucking boy! Ha! Maybe there is some hope for you yet kid. Looks like you got more of your grand daddy in you than I thought." Collins laughed as he dragged Leon away as suddenly he came back to his own senses when his uncle actually brought up his father. In the moment Leon realized what he had just said and was very much ashamed of his words. When Rider continued though and brought up Collins he chuckled, "Don't take this the wrong way lass...but I don't mess with girls like you. If you catch me drift." Collins stated as he motioned towards the command seals emblazoned on her master's hand. Leon's uncle pulled him over to to a corner of the room where he could be alone with his nephew for a moment before slapping him on the back. "What on Earth did I just do...?" Leon questioned his shoes as he stared down at his feet flabbergasted. "You just made your grand dad, and I the proudest cucks this side of the world. I didn't think you had it in you...almost thought you had it in her." Collins stated with a chuckle. "I-I don't even know what I-wha..." Leon began to stutter as Collins waved over a man by the name of Harry. He told him to get his boy some bourbon. Leon was quick to disappoint by pointing out he didn't want any, and he was still underage. Collins told him off telling his boy he was no fun.

Magical energy: 338 out of 340.

They had arrived at the tavern relatively intact. Morgana had so much racing through her head that she had instantly retreated to the safety of her room guided only by her hands to find the correct number having left only one order to her servant in her mind. "Get to my side and stay by my side at all times unless I say otherwise." She was certainly shaken by the events of the battle that was for certain and frozen on her unfocused eyes was a look of startled fear of a cat in the head lights. She was certainly shaken and feeling rather upset with herself at the fact she was what she felt the biggest liability. Knowledge was useless on the battlefield if you couldn't apply that knowledge without making it worse. She flopped face forward on the bed in a complete fit of frustration.

"Lancer" She said through the muffled sheets trying to hide her tears of anger at the loss of fellow class men and how useless she had been. "Do you think I was a failure in that fight. Be honest. I didn't do much." She said expecting him to tear her down like her parents did in order to make sure she'd succeed in order to not be commonly referred to as dirt. Perhaps that inbred self loathing she had is what made her want to succeed so badly. She never really had an emotional outlet and neither was she going to let Lancer see her cry so she simply layed face down talking through the muffled sheets.

"Be honest Lancer, Why did I even summon you. If you even who I think you are. Constantine. Did I summon you from the throne of heroes or are you someone else with no name that has great connotations to christendom. I can't tell from features I can't tell from shape nor voice. I can only tell from your word. So tell me about yourself and do not hesitate to spare me from the gore." She commanded refusing to say anything about her own life. Wishing only to placate herself with the storys her servant would tell her. "Tell me all about your abilities and any secrets you have as well. I need to know so that I can have Complete faith in you as my servant." She mumbled quietly only audible enough for him to hear her tears slowly soaking into the sheets.

Well, enough with teasing the young boy. Sure he had a bite in him, and the last part of his speech was surprising and unexpected. Rider grinned. So even the pink youth has some guts after all. Well, whatever, she'd forget this all by tomorrow if her theory was correct: Heroic Spirits can get incredibly drunk. Only time will tell, and for now she's gonna enjoy the post-battle ecstacy. Seems she's alone in that, sadly. Well, let's go back to the old days when Genghis herself went around the battlements with drinks and jokes, bringing spirits up. Life is too good to be sad all the bloody time, and death is a natural part of it all.

But who to speak to? That's the question. Perhaps trying that Berserker's master? Nawh, Berserker will handle that. He seems... capable... questionmark? He'll be golden, that's for sure. What about Assassin's mas- he's not present. Who else is there? Blah, these bloody classes and all was such a drag. Oh. That's the master of the robey, scholar-type class. Mage? No. Caster! Right. She's alone and she doesn't seem too spirited. Some spirit should lift them.

Rider raised two fingers to the bartender and two glasses were filled. Both containing scotch, the scent strong and the taste awful. How people could drink this shit was beyond Rider, but it was the best she had for now. So she picked up the glasses and started to walk over to the lonely girl with a rather unsteady foot. Swaying back and to with every step, the contents in the glasses swirling yet miraculously not spilling, a compliment to the Heroic Spirit she was. Heroic indeed.

She got to her goal with success. Somewhat. The glasses were put down, but her balance was completely off, but thank the Eternal Blue Sky for tjat tactically placed table she could lean on. And then she took a seat, her head tilted, "Ey', lassie, have a drink 'nd cha'h with big sis Raidah, eh?
Ye' seem y'need th'companeh." She said. Now ordinarily her accent would make one think she's drunk, but.. her drunken accent was exactly the same as her ordinary one. Just a little less disciplinary and commanding, and more jovial.

She peered up at the girl curiously with an eye raised, judging the three sitting girls with a cautious eye. Oh wait, it's only one. Whatever. She's cute, at least. "Drink up, gal'. 'S easier t'tlk freely with sum hoppeh' in ya." She replied while bringing her own glass to her lips, certainly attempting to seem graceful for her sake. Not the greatest success in her life, no. But that didn't bother Genghis at all. No, she took it with a smile. A comforting one at that. Call it a friendly gesture, a gesture not unknown to Rider at all. There had been many a battles and many lost loved ones, but she helped them all through. Charisma at her level was a rare thing, but certainly a necessary one.

"Hae' ya' feelin', dove? Yer' te' cute t'be sad 'nd gloomdoomy.
Don' worry, big sis'll listen.

Location: The Deacon Arms Tavern.
Interacting with: James Hartnet @Shadow Daedalus.
Magical energy: 592 out of 600.

While the greater grail did have the decency to brief him about the nature of cars, Archer didn't find them at all comfortable. From what he understood, people spent hours cooped up in one of these seats. Surely there were cars bigger than this? He'd sooner be in a carriage or atop a horse, at least then you had room to move. But, there was no question that it was certainly swift, and "riding" a car didn't seem to be at all exerting his master. Such is the price of luxury, one would suppose.

"Archer, answer me truthfully. What in the fuck happened back there?"
Archer let out a quiet 'hmm' as his master posed the question. He had his thoughts on what happened - for that matter, he had his suspicions. After living a hand to rub his bare a chin a little bit in thought, shifting in his seat to get a bit more comfortable as he did, he spoke:
"Well... either they were following us the whole time and nobody noticed a team that large and a servant, even given leniency from rites of magic..." he began, a little doubtful in his tone. He lead on to his main point: "...or, they were waiting there already. They knew where all of you were going to summon your servants and were waiting there long in advance. Now the real question is, how would they know that? Through some wicked wizardry and magic, can they see into the future? Or the much more likely option..." he paused for a moment to look towards his master, to drive his point home, before he finished explaining his thoughts: "...someone told them where we would be. I think we were betrayed, boy. Be careful who you trust - I'll follow your lead."

Archer watched as his master went about torching the car: namely, he watched the surrounds. Even if James was meticulous in avoiding a tail, caution was almost never unrewarded. As James motioned him to follow, he obeyed: in a cloud of blue wisps, he simply vanished into thin air, entering his corporeal form. From the privacy of lacking a physical form, he studied his master: he was getting tired, as many of the other children would be. It was fortunate that he didn't need to sleep. He could only hope that the other servants shared his caution.

Imagine the shock Archer got when he entered the bar behind his master. From his corporeal form, he found Rider prowling about the bar kissing masters and Berserker sharing a drink with his master at first glance. You could almost hear his eyebrow twitch. After a drawn out pause, Archer abruptly burst out into laughter, echoing into James' mind alone.
"They didn't waste time, did they! Hah!" He paused as he moved to take a post up on the roof, watching from the safety of his form. "I'll take up the watch, boy. Do try and get some rest."

---

Location: The Deacon Arms Tavern.
Interacting with: Berserker of Red @MeteorD; Rider of Red @KawaiiKyouko.
Magical energy: 147 out of 180.

Impatiently, Sonja looked down to her watch. The night was wearing on. Despite her best efforts to try and reassure herself, she didn't find any relief. She let out a quiet sigh. She was worried sic-
The doors crashed open with a bang. Reflexively, Sonja swung her gaze up, jumping at the sudden entrance. In that brief moment until she saw exactly who it was, she feared the worst - up until she saw exactly who it was standing in the doorway. In that moment, almost all of her concerns washed away: not only was her servant back, but another one of the masters.
"Yo, Master! I made it back like I said, sorry for havin' to leave ya behind, I couldn't let that kid just stand around and get himself killed!" bellowed the servant, captivating the attention of the tavern. She could've almost fallen asleep right then and there.

Sonja watched as Berserker strode over to the bar. He really was like a horse in a school boy's locker room: the center of everyone's attention, whether they liked it or not. As he took up the two drinks and started his way towards her, she reached over to the ash tray to press the cigarette out. A simple courtesy: she didn't want to stain the golden boy's radiant aura with the cigarette smoke.
"I'm really sorry Master. 'Always obey your General on the battlefield.' That was a lesson I had to learn in life, and I disobeyed it on the first day." Berserker apologized as he slid her a schooner. While she wasn't too big on alcohol, the notion of sharing a drink with the golden boy was a little reassuring. She took it in hand as she spoke.
"No, please, I-" she hesitated, trying to think of the right words. "...don't apologize. I'm-... not much of a general. I'm certain you know more about that than I do, and... well, I trusted you, and look what happened: we all got back, which..." she paused before speaking a little more quietly, privately: "...is more than I would've had us come back with. Just, if you ever feel like you're about to go berserk, then... well, tell me, so I know I need to use a command seal if we're running."

She lifted her drink to her mouth, taking a gentle sip. It was coarse, but it was in a way relieving. While she had a fair alcohol tolerance, if not dipping slightly on the side of lightweight, a single beer wasn't going to put her even on tipsy. By the time she looked back up, though...
"Oyh... Gol'nn boy.. ye' as gol'nn in bed 'swell? Woul'ya show this 'ere... Raidah~?" Her glass made a thud as it came close to slamming the table. Involuntarily, she found herself glaring at Rider, as if trying to ward her away. She didn't even recognize how possessive she felt; or maybe, attached? Afraid? Reliant? For that reason, she found herself easing up when she moved off to her next victim, to her concealed embarrassment.

Within her mind, she reminded herself she needed to go to bed soon.

---

He listened patiently to his Master's words, the glass in his hand as he looked down to the solemn figure. Despite everything that had happened this night, the weight upon the young girl seemed far heavier than she deserved. If anything, he could sympathize. Actually, he could sympathize far more than he cared to admit. Even though the sunglasses and stoic figure of the grand Berserker made him seem unshakeable, the guilt of not protecting those in front of him, of not protecting those in need, would never lift. None of this was the fault of his Master however. She had taken the most natural course of action, and gotten others to safety despite the ambush, without even Berserker needing to be present. He raised his glass with one overly large motion, his head tipping back as he poured most of its content down the hatch, before 'slamming' down the glass on the table, though unintentionally.

"General, I'm not what you would call smart. You'll probably soon find out that I'm not actually all that good at planning at all, just using these muscles of mine to remove whatever happens to be in the way of my goal." In a matching gesture, he pulled up his right arm, showing off his biceps as the torn fabric of the shirt seemed to have an even harder time containing the massive python. "To do anythin' of worth, I need a good General. However, I can't fight under a General I don't agree with. Even if they can put these 'Glorious' weapons to use, I'd probably end up going against them even if it meant goin' out a little less glamorous than I would want. But, I can tell-"

Before he could finish his sentence, a drunken tone interrupted him, speaking sweet words of seductions. The Golden Boy was, if anything, an easy target to catch off-guard with this type of approach. The obscenities in her words were obvious, and immediately shook him, raising him into a panic as his face grew blush with a reddened color.

"Shu- I mean, w-what?!" He found himself turning nervously around to face her, but still being unable to actually look her in the eyes. This smell, this haze in her tone that made the thickest accents blur together even more. He was far too familiar with it, and not in a way that would let him stay composed. The mix of voices and random sounds, made it hard to catch anything specific, but for some reason, the hollow sound of a single glass from his Master being put down made shivers run through his spine. He looked back to get a glance at her face, and then turned right back to Rider. "W-was that..." He recognized the face, or at least, he thought he did. It was one he had felt drilling into his back several times when he had been approached by women during his life, though the intent was different entirely. Of course, the clueless young protagonist of children's tales couldn't make out the difference at all, if he had even managed to tell what it was during his life. "L-look, I, uh..."

Entirely lost for words, he had wasted so much time that the legendary Rider had moved away with disinterest already, his heart pounding rapidly as the Golden Boy took his 'defeat' at the hands of this woman. While Kintoki saw women as something to protect from harm, the two most frightening people he had met in his life had both been women. His affinity for stopping great calamities might be the highest of them all, but his affinity for those who desired him was rock bottom. Truly, this Golden Boy was nothing more than a 'Boy' in these situations. Still shook from the sudden encounter, he turned back to face his Master once, only to be reminded of the reason why he had turned away. Luckily enough, the 'frightening' face of a woman begun to fade away, as his Master seemed at least slightly more composed now. He reached out his hand to lay it on her shoulder, drawing her attention.

"A-anyway, the point is, tonight you acted like someone I would work under! Durin' that entire time, you could have told me to go wild and take out Saber, but that could've risked the life of those you were bringin' away from the fight, yeah? No matter what anyone else says, you were truly GOLDEN." Yes. Even though he had a wish of his own he wanted fufilled, he would never pursue that over the safety of others. His one true failing as a Servant in the Holy Grail War that would keep him from being an ideal candidate, was also what led him to be the shining example of a Hero worthy of a place in the Throne above. "From that moment onwards, you became not my Master, but my General in this war. Or would you prefer Commander? Aaah, there are so many 'Cool' names to use!" Despite his speech, he found himself slipping into his own habit of growing overexcited, acting as cheerful as a child at the oppritunity of getting to use the english words that were considered 'cool' by kids today. While trying to think up which sounded the best, he noticed the sleep-deprived eyes of his Master, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Well, we can think about that some other time!" How foolish he had been to not notice. "For now, you should go get some rest. With how things are going, the followin' days will be tough, so wastin' night hours after something like this isn't worth it. You deserve it."

He got off his chair, stretching his shoulders before speaking up again. "Oh, and could ya lend me a cig and a lighter? I want to 'Relax' a few minutes outside, fresh air is the best after all. I'll join you upstairs after."

It looked like he hadn't even thought of her concerns for his figure, casually asking for the thing which she seemed to have thought would taint him. As unpredictable as he was reliable, though that wasn't necessarily a bad thing in this scenario.

Location: The Deacon Arms Tavern.
Interacting with: Berserker of Red @MeteorD; the Masters of Red.
Magical energy: 147 out of 180.

As Berserker's hand came down on her shoulder, Sonja flinched a little. It wasn't that she was scared, but more that it didn't occur to her exactly how big his hands were.
"A-anyway, Berserker continued, "...the point is, tonight you acted like someone I would work under! Durin' that entire time, you could have told me to go wild and take out Saber, but that could've risked the life of those you were bringin' away from the fight, yeah? No matter what anyone else says, you were truly GOLDEN." Initially, Sonja didn't have a response to the words: the whole 'golden' gimmick was still a little out of place for her, although not in a bad way - it was charming, in its own right. "From that moment onwards, you became not my Master, but my General in this war. Or would you prefer Commander? Aaah, there are so many 'Cool' names to use!" As the words properly sunk in, she didn't fluster or smile - but instead, she grew more firm in her resolve. With her confidence lifted, she more strongly shifted back into her public persona, feeling reassured in the war. Was he just being kind? It was hard to tell, but in the pits of her mind, she made an oath to trust him: to rely on him and become a commander, to never fear what he might be doing but instead always focus on the path ahead. It was her duty, after all: to both her family and to her servant.

"Well, we can think about that some other time!" The words brought her out of her deep thought, prompting her back to reality.
"Right," she responded firmly, with confidence: "Leave the strategy to me. I'll be relying on you for the battle, Berserker." She offered him a resolute smile, in some regard inspired by the exchange. The doubt in her gut was fading.

As she stood up to leave, trailing behind Berserker as she slid out of the booth, Sonja found herself confronted by an odd question.
"Oh, and could ya lend me a cig and a lighter?" Berserker asked. In her mind, the cogs abruptly stopped turning. H-Huh?
"O-Oh, you smoke?" she asked, reaching into her coat to simply offer him the whole packet. "Here, the lighter's inside. Just bring it back up with you. If I'm not in bed when you get up there, I'm probably just in the shower in something, so don't wait up for me." It didn't even occur to her if he intended to "sleep" or not, but she mentioned it anyway, just following on from her train of thought. "And don't feel like you have to sleep on the floor if it's only the one bed. I can deal with sharing if it'll keep you up to pace." She spoke the words without a hint of hesitation, as if she didn't think a whole lot of sharing a bed in the first place; or at least, her public persona didn't.

With that, she started her way towards the stairs with a vague wave over her shoulder.
"See you soon, Berserker... goodnight, everyone." She finished with a yawn as she rounded about the staircase.

---

"W-well, you could say I do." Truth be told, he wasn't too sure himself. The thin smoke coming from a cigarette seemed naturally appealing to him, and the idea of looking as cool as an 'action star' was too good to pass up. Of course, only having been in this world for a short time, his knowledge was limited to what had been bestowed upon him at the time of his Summoning. He was too impressionable both as a person, and as the Heroic Spirit of Kintaro. He recieved the packet for himself, holding it curiously as he examined the object that he felt this odd attraction towards. After his moments of fascination, he put it away to not be rude. "It won't be long. If somethin' happens, tell me immediately. Or, if necessary, use a Command Spell." He responded normally, but with a bit of concern. Going out on his own certainly wasn't responsible of him, but right now it was the one thing he 'needed'. As such, the conversation went naturally. "And don't feel like you have to sleep on the floor if it's only the one bed. I can deal with sharing if it'll keep you up to pace." He gave a nod, briefly waving to her as she went off to the stairs... "... Wait."

---

Having stepped outside the tavern, he didn't get very far outside before giving a heavy sigh. "Did I just agree to that?" For now, he didn't want to think about it, walking a bit off to the right in front of the building, out of sight from the windows. He didn't want to stray too far off, but he needed some space. While watched by the eyes of others, he had to keep his head up and his back straightened.

"You are a man, so act like one!"

An old memory resurfaced. A demanding, yet reassuring voice from his life. From the one who had taught him to not only be a Hero, but an ideal Hero. As much of a brute as he was, he had become something more when working under her. Someone who had taught him, that even if he couldn't have his back straight for his own sake, then he should do it for the sake of others, so that they would not falter. It was a good lesson. Opening up the packet, he discovered the lighter placed inside the vacant space. He took it a cigarette out, pocketing the rest of the packet once more. Holding the wrapped paper 'container' between his two fingers, the whole thing just came naturally to him. His other hand ignited the lighter with a tiny spark, holding it towards the tip for a bit before bringing the lighter down to his pocket with the rest of the packet. The tobacco was drawn into his body rather easily, going unhindered. One unfortunate thing for a man like himself, was that light drugs, or any drugs rather, would do little to nothing for him, least of all cigarettes. None of it was absorbed into his Golden body, as it remained untainted, even after the cloud of smoke blew out from his lips. Still, the grey cloud that slowly thinned out in the fresh midnight air felt comforting, escaping the duties and expectations of those around him. He never disliked the feeling of others relying on him, but the empty street left him and the single smoke of cloud to have some time together. It only took a few seconds for the latter of the two to leave him, as he brought the cigarette back to his lips once more to watch it disperse once more.

"You could have done something."

The thought came into his mind before escaping him. He tried to recapture it as another grey hollow painting in the air was made.

"You could have saved them."

He was growing frustrated with the cloud, but he still wanted it back. No, he deserved to have it back.

"You could have been stronger."

The cigarette between his fingers was going through a painful experience, his grip on it steel-tight.

"You failed them."

...

A loud crash. Before he knew it, he was standing with his hand stuck in the stone wall of the elevated area that the tavern was built on. The only 'one' watching was the gathering of grey color behind his back, and broken cigarette between his fingers. His breath was heavy, making sounds resembling a marathon runner after the sprint of his life. Crudely, he dislodged his arm from inside the stone, shaking off the gravel and dust on his arm. After one deep breath, he was standing with his arms by his side, the remains of the cigarette lying beside his shoes as he stared upwards silent.

"Stand tall Kintoki."

Interacting with Albert @Turboshitter

---

Locusta leaned where she stood, her back propped up against the wall as her master spouted out his life story, every detail every inch. Sure Locusta had joked she wouldn't remember but some of the stuff she heard reminded her of herself. The boy was young, unmolded and was certainly having trouble comprehending the harsh reality of the world. She was almost in the right mind to tap into those motherly instincts she had never gotten a chance to use in life to comfort the child and to lecture him on how to detach himself from such things. Not to devalue them but to appreciate them as a fact of life. For even Locusta an Assassin by trade felt empathy for the victims she could see. She disliked having to mercy kill that child purely for the fact they simply were too young to die and were of no threat to anyone. Perhaps thats why she liked poisons so much. She never had to see the dying with the her own eyes as they collapsed and disappeared like a ripple in the ocean.

She kept listening to his life story, pondering over some of what she heard perhaps she might be able to make a special blend of toxin that purges all ill effects by force. Question was would her master be able to survive such a powerful concoction. She shook her head. He seemed fine as he was without any need to risk endagering his life currently. He had her for Romes Sake. Not only the smartest Assassin this side of europe but also probably the nicest because even if it was horribly warped by her occupation Locusta liked to think she had a solid moral code. Though this France thing he went on about made her curious because well. That was where Gaul was meaning... Well nations were conquered and changed of course Gaul wouldn't exist this far into the future it had probably be stolen from the Romans and turned into this 'France'

When he had finally finished pouring out his entire life to her. He began to move onto more relevant topics to the things at hand. Her Master... No, Albert had begun his little inquisitiveness in asking who she was by beginning with a rather hurtful statement. He didn't mean to summon her...? She was brought back by accident. She had gotten lucky. He didn't know of her skills at all how could those ancient historians forget about her and her almost monopoly over assassinations in the roman empire during Nero's reign. Her frown was rather obvious on her face as her entire excitement earlier had been betrayed by this one comment but it didn't stop there. No the boy had to pour more salt on her wounded ego, he didn't guess her as any random women during the old weaklings life. He had to guess her as Agrippina the younger.

It didn't take long for those words to spill from his lips before Locusta had blown a fuse. She inhaled deeply in order to get a full intake of air to really rip into him how stupid he was in one full blow. "How dare you... How dare you!" Locusta began her eyes seeming to well up with heart "So you think I'm the women whom had me imprisoned? Tortured even? All because I helped her in her stupid plot to get her child on the throne and you have no clue who I am because she" She paused after saying the she e with such venom and disgust it was almost like she was an entirely different person, it seemed she was actually getting close to tears as she ruffled her hands through her green hair making it rather messy and yet somehow more fitting. "So she took all the credit? So in the end she got all she ever wanted. Everyone remembers Agrippina the younger as the murderer of Claudius." Locusta murmured getting rather emotional over this one person whom had betrayed her trust. Locusta didn't handle betrayal well it cut her deep considering her values. Even Murderers should have decency to not betray other murderers. Close as a band of murderers was a comment she took to her heart. She stopped talking for a few moments to try and compose herself. It seemed to drag on for a few minutes.

"I would of killed you for what you just said if you didn't pour out your life story first, Albert..." Locusta scowled her face speaking volumes of murderous intent towards her master before it slowly mellowed out again. "From the top..." She began getting really close to his face ignoring his indecent state. She had to talk to people in worse conditions. For example that roman senator whom she had to talk to while his slaves... cleaned him. She had seen it all before was what she was getting at. She made sure he was looking into her eyes as she began. "Your observation was correct. I am not Emperor Claudius however I am not Agrippina either,contrary from what you have heard she wasn't the one to kill her husband. It was me." She said as she pushed herself away from him by using his shoulders as a springboard pushing him a little under the water as she did so.

She pointed to herself as she stood in a triumphant pose. "I am the greatest poisoner in all of Rome, Senators hired me to kill other Senators. I was simply the Assassin everyone needed for their own ends. I am Locusta of Gaul though my title gifted to my perhaps precedes my name, I am Locusta the Poisoner, Slayer of the Emperor, friend of Nero. Mistress of Poisons." She said as she grabbed a hold of a nearby towel raising it as if to hit Albert before lowering it again. "It'd be my pleasure to aid you in your revenge~" She said her voice laced with honey as she handed him the towel, offering her other hand to help pull him out of the bath. "And don't you ever forget it Albert." She giggled as she ruffled his hair in the way her mother did to reassure her back when she was younger.

With a yawn, Olympia let her head rest heavily against her hand, elbow leant atop the table as she patiently awaited a response from her Servant. The night had dragged on long enough in her mind, and after coming down to sit in the bar she suddenly found herself regretting the decision entirely; it would have been a much better, and wiser, idea for her to stay within the confines of her room, where none of her fellows would need look upon her tired expression and sullen body language. Like them all, no doubt, she was a sorry state to behold, a fact she tried to bury away to stop her running off back to the safety and comfort of her bed.

Her eyes scanned the room, taking in each of its occupants in turn. James, sat at the bar minding his own business in similar fashion; while she knew few, if none of the Masters personally, he had to have been one of the few Oly knew particularly little about, although his choice of Mystic Code made her question whether or not they'd actually make good companions during the battle. Berserker, and his Master, Sonja, sharing a drink like friends; Sonja was the oldest of the group, and in a similar vein to James when it came to how much Olympia actually knew about her. Then there was the bartender, a relative of Leon's so she'd been told, and was evidenced by their familiar exchange, as well as Leon himself, and Rider. She couldn't exactly tell whether or not she should be thankful to Leon for being one of the organisers for the fight, not after the massacre that had occurred prior to their meeting.

But what she hadn't expected to lay eyes upon was the sight she beheld between the aforementioned, and Rider herself. She kissed him! Olympia could do naught but blush slightly and avert her eyes, overcome with the feeling she had accidentally intruded on something private, despite being enacted within a public place. To think the Masters and Servants were already getting amorous with each other... She hadn't read about things like that happening, but what more could she expect? They were all a bunch of teenagers. Dealing with studying and their insufferable Professor had probably left them all starved. N-not that Olympia fell into that category. She was only sixteen, after all; that may have been... legal, in England, but she had other things to worry about!

In the panic of seeing Rider and Leon kiss, Olympia found her mind drifting aimlessly, awaiting a message from Caster, announcing his arrival at the Tavern. He couldn't have gotten lost, could he? She knew it was wrong of her to have left him, but she needed to help Morgana escape from the castle. The girl was blind, and would've been slaughtered where she stood if she and the others hadn't intervened to get her out. Saving each others lives, that was what friends did... And Olympia found comfort in calling the other Masters her friends, for as long as it lasted. All she hoped was that none of them snapped due to the pressure and paranoia of the situation... Everyone had Servants, except Leon, but if someone went mad... She had no guarantee she'd be able to stop them killing her.

In a second, her train of thought was derailed, crumbling to pieces, as she looked up from the palm of her hand to Rider, stood at the bow of her table, clutching unsteadily in her hands two glasses of... foreign liquid. The legal drinking age in Scotland as 18. Even at her family home she had never drunk, despite it being legal. If the Servant hadn't have been drunk, the look on Olympia's face - a mix of confusion and reluctance - would've tipped her off to the fact, but in her present state all she could do was pray the drinks weren't meant for her, and she had merely come over to say hello as a formality.

"Ey', lassie, have a drink 'nd cha'h with big sis Raidah, eh? Ye' seem y'need th'companeh. Drink up, gal'. 'S easier t'tlk freely with sum hoppeh' in ya."

Inside, the penny dropped, and her shoulders sunk as the glances were placed cack-handedly atop the table surface, though all without spilling a single drop of the fluid. Through the haze of alcohol that secreted from every word Rider spoke Olympia could only barely make out what exactly she was saying, and her pre-existing accent didn't help any. But from the sound of it... she had come to drink and talk, two things she wasn't the most prepared to do. Talk, maybe. But not drink. She could barely even identify the substance within the glass, and as much as she... trusted the Servant, she didn't want to get drunk, nor receive a hangover, especially not with the stakes that were at hand. That, and deep inside a little part of her niggled, reminding her not to break the law, since she was a child, and she had her families reputation to think about, in the circumstance she ever wanted to go off and do something reckless in a drunken manner - something she, likely the same as every child of a family with anything resembling a somewhat good standing, had drilled into her.

"I-I don't really... I-I mean, I'm not really... Allowed to drink..." she murmured to Rider, eyeing the glass with something of a suspicious look, as though she hated it and the day for tempting her to drink. In any other circumstance, mainly one in which she drank, she would be happy to wash down the horrible taste of the past hours with something tasting even worse, but that wasn't an eventuality she was keen to entertain. It wasn't that she wanted to remember the day... If anything, she more so didn't want to forget about the people that died in her and her fellows stead. She was glad, and... gracious of them. If she could help it, there sacrifices would not go in vain.

But as she eyed the glass, Olympia couldn't help but wonder. She had never drunk before. This would be a first - much like the rest of the day. It was only one drink...
"Hae' ya' feelin', dove? Yer' te' cute t'be sad 'nd gloomdoomy. Don' worry, big sis'll listen." a little bit of her couldn't help but feel that, in some tiny way, this was akin to peer pressure, and she was succumbing to it. A single drink wouldn't get her close to getting drunk... She hadn't eaten much at all, and she was quite small, but she couldn't have been that much of a lightweight... right?

Her arm outstretched towards the glass, and Oly wrapped her palm around it, clutching the cold vessel as she drew it across the table towards, letting her peer into the brown liquid inside. She could feel herself tremble as she gazed into it, questioning internally whether or not to drink it, or simply pass it off to Rider, whom no doubt enjoyed her liquor. The decision lasted much longer than it should have, leaving Rider to watch her as not-so-drinking companion stared thoughtfully and curiously into the drink that had been placed before her.

Then, in one action, she lifted the glass to her mouth, and tipped her head backwards, letting the fluid rush into her mouth and down her throat, swallowing the entire thing in one go. As soon as it flooded into her open jaws, she regretted the decision, as her taste-buds and nerves fired up with a burning sensation, that continued like flame down her throat as the alcohol rushed passed. What the hell was she just given?! Poison!? She placed the glass down hard on accident, choking, coughing, and spluttering as she did so, recoiling from the sensation with tears in her eyes.

"Tired..." she finally croaked out, no doubt through the laughter of Rider, "I feel... tired... it's not even the second day yet... and I'm already sick of this fight... I'm weak, I don't belong here... And I..." for some reason, she couldn't help but talk, no thanks to the sudden kick of adrenaline from the pain, and as she did a tear rolled down her cheek, "I've already killed people... they died at my hand, no matter what side they were on and how guilt they were... I-I hate it... I feel sick... I just wanna go home already..." she cried, very evidently distraught from the day.

Rider gazed inquisitively at the girl with an eyebrow raised. Even in her intoxicated state could Rider easily identify the cause of this Master's sullen, empty mood. Peering onto Olympia was like peering onto a young foal which had just seen it's mother die, no tears, no feelings. Just emptiness. Now, the Great Khan may be one of the most feared people history has ever seen, often dubbed as a plague to the world that is filled with evil and hatred, but truth of the matter is that she's also compassionate and friendly. She can feel other's sorrow, and despite showing no signs of empathy due to being an empathic warlord is a bad warlord, she still felt it qithin the heart of her heart. And she knew, just by a single look, how this girl struggled to swallow the events that unfolded earlier.

And so she peered onto the girl, the young, sheltered child being sized up by the absolute greatest conqueror the world has ever seen, second to none. And the Flail of God, the punisher of sinners as she herself had dubbed her to the Judean religions believers, was smiling softly. No malice, no ill intent, just a friendly smile from one presumed ally to another. She even allowed the girl to spend her time coming to a conclusion with the brown, strong liquid. This however was more about her not wishing to be seen as a hypocrite, considering how lightweight her youthful body truly was. Either way, this moment of silence was her gift to the girl, a moment to let her arrange her thoughts. Say a thing about Rider, say she knows how to comfort people.

There was no laughter to be heard from the Mongol's lips, just the same smile softly lingering on her lips. And she lent the girl the ear she'd promised to give her, the warlord's head gently nodding while her eyes remained closed. So, it was her first taste of bloodshed, was it? Aye, Genghis' thoughts went back to the day she and her younger brothers killed their oldest brother, when they assassinated him in cold blood. She remembered the feeling of regret, guilt, weakness she felt afterwards. It is not too different from what the teenager felt, that was certain. Different events, yet the same empty sadness weighing on one's heart. And so Rider opened her eyes again, certainly taking a moment to refocus her gaze. Bloodeh drinks.

"I see. I cannae say, I knae th'feelin' ya hold no mo', this 'ere feelin' o' guilt fer' th'dead. Bu' I knae th'feelin' o' dread 'nd sorroe' ove' shockin' events." She began, attempting to weigh her words properly in an attempt to calm her mind. Rider knew that these traumatic events are easiest to mend while the wound is fresh, rather than let it grow a deep, painful scar. "Bu' I knae there be a day t'mmorrow. And one afteh'. Y'say yer weak, I ain' seein ya as weak. Ye' may not be a Mangudai, a sworn warrieh, bu' I see a stren'th in ya. How ta' put it... I got me a feelin' ye'll get back on yer feet, and use this 'ere day's memory as a fuel. Tha' makes sense?" Well, to Rider it did.

She leant forward with a hand extended and gently placed it atop the girl's shoulder, gently squeezing it comfortingly. Seems like one drink was not enough to empty this girl's painful remorse either. "Take it from Big Sis, th'pain will neveh disappear. Bu' it'll mend gradually. Nae, I see ya didn' enjoy th'drink. Bu' aftah years in th'field, I knae this type o' drink is a good healeh as long as done rareleh and with good companeh. So I'll order ya 'notha one. She let her grip leave her shoulder, instead let the fist raise up high to signal the bartender."This fekk'n drink tastes like armadillo piss, I swea'.." She said, snickering softly.

It went quick, the bringer of alcohol brought the glasses to their table. One of them placed in front of both, and in friendly gesture, Rider rose her glass up to invite into a toast."Erüül mendiin tölöö, Lil' Sis! She added in her native language, the Mongolian phrase for cheers, before downing it all. Ah, the burning. It was so terrible. So Rider's face winced lightly, before she changed her sitting position, tilting her chair in a 30 degree away from the table while letting her legs cross over one another.

"Nae, please empty yer' heart o' pain. I'll listen. Big Sis promises."

"I think I'll take you up on that, Archer. Let me know if anything comes up though, I may not be a servant but I can still put up a fight."

Draining the contents of his glass, he pulled a £5 note from his back pocket (courtesy of the man whose car he stole) and slid it, folded, under the empty glass before he made his way to one of the empty rooms. The Owner of the Tavern was going them all a massive favour letting them hide here for the night, the least James could do was pay off some of the drinks. He tossed his bag onto the floor in front of the bed, and placed the gun case onto the bed before locking the door. He unlocked the combination lock on the gun case and popped open the latch, but stopped before he could pull the weapon from its case. It was, in many ways, a mirror of himself: A harsh and unforgiving product of both Magecraft and Crime, against Himself and those around him. A quick exhale through his nose, and he lifted the Mystic Code from its nesting place. Wordlessly, he began his maintenance on the weapon, carefully inspecting and cleaning each component when it finally lay in pieces and then meticulously replacing them into their rightful positions with a practised hand. He wasn't sure how long the whole process took, but he was glad for the minimal interruptions.

When he was happy with the finished product, he lowered the weapon onto the bed before slipping a silver pendant off of his neck. The pendant was a gift from Amelia, a silver sparrowhawk. That was her nickname for him, 'Sparrowhawk', like 'Songbird' was hers. Lifting the rifle by the barrel, he looped the silver chain around the barrel of the weapon, a symbolic gesture. He was fighting for her sake. He checked the time only to see that it was late. He replaced Mana Zero back into its case and locked it shut, spinning the lock to a random combination and sliding it under the bed, out of sight. He was quick to wash himself before lying on the bed in a towel, eyes gazing aimlessly upwards. For several minutes he stayed like this, before abruptly sliding himself under the covers and turning onto his side, attempting to salvage some kind of sleep tonight.

---

Soon as he had received his Master's message, he had done as she instructed as efficiently as he could, using a barrage of attacks to slow the artificial human as best he could before swiftly making his retreat. He quickly assured her that he had made it away safely before recalling his 5 bronze swords and reshaping them into a large horse and 3 sparrow-sized birds. Using the bronze mount, he quickly made his way to the tavern at which she had said to convene. He arrived outside the tavern, but didn't proceed directly inside, instead going to stand amongst the shadows of the building as he watched through his birds' eyes for possible threats, much like a mage might use a familiar.

Satisfied with that their enemies had not managed to follow them this far, he dispelled his horse, adding two more birds to his network of pseudo-familiars before shifting himself into spirit form and entering the building properly to avoid disturbing any of the other Master/Servant pairs present. He watched with distaste, however, as Rider placed two glasses in front of Olympia and began to slowly cross the tavern as he fought against his rising temper. He didn't need to lose it again, considering last time he did it cost him his nephew. He managed to reach her just as Rider shifted her seating position and materialised into physical form in time to wipe the tear from her cheek, placing himself next to her, on the other side from Rider, before taking the glass from the table and moving it further away before lowering himself so that he was level with her.

"I'm sorry I took so long Little one, I was trying to make sure we were safe here. A battlefield is no place for you, no place for any of the Masters here I know, but you mustn't let yourself stumble here. You will heal, in time, if you let yourself heal. As Rider said, You are so much stronger than you believe you are. For now, Vent if you wish, and then you need to allow yourself to rest."

He finished with a gentle smile before standing and turning to face the green-haired woman that filled the Rider Class, stepping a little closer so that he was on the other side of his Master with his back to her. His smile had quickly fallen away, giving way for a stern and displeased expression to settle. He lowered his voice so that only the Mongol rider could hear him, purposely avoiding sounding sharp but letting his feelings known all the same.

"While I appreciate the attempt to comfort my Master, Rider, I do not appreciate you trying to do so in this particular way. I do not know how your people deal with this kind of problem, but I am sure that inebriating an underage girl will do more harm than good. She has less time to heal than is ideal, I agree, but a crutch won't help."

Ilse Koenig

Joker

---

Their eyes meet, and in that moment, nothing else matters.

Not the dishonored dead and those who join them in the long sleep.

Not the battlecry of heroes and the heartbeat of iron.

Not the prey left vulnerable and the scales found wanting.

Only eyes like sanguine mirrors, reflecting a homunculus born to die and a weapon born to kill.

"A puppet that plays the part of daughter? His depravity truly knows no bounds!"

What a disgusting joke.

The irony is lost on her.

---

The Deacon Arms Tavern was surprisingly sober when Ilse and Rider had arrived. The key word here being “was”. Not even an hour after their arrival and the tavern common area had devolved into what is colloquially referred to as a “fucking gongshow”. Normally this would not be an issue, but...

’It appears “King of Degenerates” would be a far more suitable epithet for my Servant.'

Was it too much to assume a fractional Heroic Spirit would maintain a sense of decorum around others? Ilse placed a hand to her forehead and sighed, unable to continue watching her Servant flit from one example of masculinity to another. And yet, she could still tell exactly what was happening from the incessant, inebriated jabbering of that shameless Servant’s barbarian tongue. It filled Ilse, a maiden raised by the standards of noble magi, with intense secondhand embarrassment. And it did little to temper the splitting pain in her head.

’In this moment, it is not my responsibility,’ Ilse reminded herself, lowering her hand to her mouth. In this moment, her eyes were a conceptual weapon of rejection, aimed squarely at her own Servant, who was currently propositioning the American for sexual services. ’As long as it follows directions, what it chooses to do with its leisure time is irrelevant, regardless of moral bankruptcy.’

Her hands wrapped around the cup of water in front of her. Slowly and with trembling hands, she brought it to her mouth. A stinging, burning pain wracked her body - a series of internal wounds from her botched landing, left unnoticed until now by dint of the adrenaline pumping through her veins?

Odd. Ilse had reinforced herself before the point of impact to avoid that very situation. But then again, maybe it was to be expected. Nonlethal or otherwise, it was a Servant’s arrow that had forced her rapid descent. ’If my own Servant had not shot me out of the sky,’ she seethed, idly stabbing at her food for the umpteenth time tonight, ’Perhaps I would not be in this predicament.’

She turned her attention back to Rider.

She didn't lie, her hand moving straight to his shirt before pulling him close. In Mongolia you take what you deem is yours, and Leon is in this moment Ghengis', granted to her from the generous Uncle. The boy's head were kept hovering quite close to her own head before she uttered a few words, "I tasted many a folk 'roun'th'worl', but a pink-skin I ain' tried. Hope ya' taste as delish as ye' seem, creamyboy." Lraving him no room to respond, she darted her head forth, locking their lips. Say one thing about Genghis, say she's a great kisser. And a relentless one too.

Ilse brought her hand back to her face.

---

By the time Ilse had emotionally recovered from the severe mental damage inflicted on her being, Rider had (fortunately) been rejected, and in being rejected, moved to confront the grieving Master of Caster, the girl with the Flame Eyes. Wary of any more tomfoolery on part of her Servant, Ilse stood from her seat and approached the duo, gathering the gist of their conversation as she seated herself next to Rider.

However, instead of confronting her Servant, Ilse looked at her fellow Master, eyes unwavering in their scrutiny. The presence of her gaze was off-putting, paralyzing even. It was like Ilse was slowly, silently and methodically taking her apart with through vision alone. After a few long seconds (the very same ones that Caster used to make his appearance) Ilse broke her silence: “You are correct. You do not belong here. Your eyes are of fire, but your heart is of glass; your will is weak. Yet you have not slain Caster and abandoned the cause. You have the means to flee, so then why are you still here, Master of Caster?”

Unrelenting. That was the best way to describe how the monotone girl spoke. It was without pause, without hesitation, and without softening her severe gaze. Staying her path, she continued, “To succumb to despair is an affront to those who have sacrificed themselves to get you this far. You detest killing? Very well, but as long as you bear those Command Spells, you will be forced to fight, whether you desire to or not. What will you do when that inevitability arrives? And so I ask you again: why are you still here?"

Having said her piece, Ilse casually dipped her finger in the troubled girl’s newly ordered drink. She visibly winced as her circuit switch was flipped. The two sensations from pain and activation had compounded into a particularly nasty twinge. “Incidentally, Servant Caster is correct.” She stirred as she spoke, applying the alchemical foundation to the swill. “Intoxication will dull the mind, and as we know, we cannot afford to be careless when Ayondale and his forces can attack at any moment.”

After completing the minor spell, Ilse quickly plucked her finger out and balled her hand into a fist. The liquid was the same appearance, but different now. “Get some water in you,” she advised, sliding the drink back over to its original owner, “Intuition tells me Castle Urquhart may not be the last of tonight’s surprises.”

---

The young Frenchman, now thoroughly spooked despite his earlier objections, marveled at Assassin's ability to rapidly switch between moods like a homicidal drinking bird. Hot and then cold, dry and then wet, bubbly and airheaded then marvelously murderous. If he wasn't convinced before, he sure as hell was now. Either Assassin had some serious ADHD, or she was straight up manic-depressive. Not like he hadn't said some hurtful things of his own with the typical bluntness of a hammer blow that he was so accustomed to, but still...

Jesus, Marie, Joseph...

Seeing that she'd shifted back into manic after that brief but frightening episode, Albert took her proffered hand, hoping he was in the clear. Alright, assuming he wasn't about to have his throat cut open in the middle of the night, this mishap had taught him a few valuable lessons. The first of those of course being his Servant's true identity, and the fact that she did not appreciate it being mistaken. Knowing now that she was the fabled Locusta of Gaul, he'd have to remember to tread carefully when discussing her past living in the Roman Empire.

And Nero... where did she stand on Nero? That was another minefield of a topic for conversation. History reviled Nero, and had only just recently come around to the idea that the emperor might have been mentally ill rather than an evil to succeed Caligula. Yet they had shown remarkable mercy and even fondness for Locusta the Poisoner, going so far as to pardon her of her crimes after Agrippina's death and arrange a place for her in the Roman high nobility as Imperial Poisoner. A state-sanctioned assassin and career-killer turned noblewoman... his Servant was an interesting one, that was for certain. However it remained to be seen if "interesting" was in his best interests.

She seemed nice enough though, at least when he wasn't saying something stupid to piss her off. That was a mistake he'd be sure not to make again. Assassins that deviated from the normal Hassans could tend to be wildcards, possessing a variety of quirks and subtle motivations endemic to those who would kill for money or personal gain... or for fun. Getting to know her better and handling her with care were two things he'd need to do if he expected to utilize her skills properly during this Holy Grail War and still survive once the dust had settled.

Growing accustomed to Locusta's presence even in his state of undress, Albert tried calming himself as he climbed out of the tub. Briefly he activated his problem-solving mode, thinking long and hard about how best to apologize. Eventually he collapsed his state of high concentration. Direct approach was probably best with Assassin's personality.

"Do not fret, ma chère. I would not so easily forget ze kindness of anyone willing to 'elp me avenge myself upon zat bastard of a teacher, or someone who 'as already saved my life more zan once. You 'ave my zanks. And... I apologize if I offended you. I did not realize to whom I was speaking. Perhaps if I 'ad been a bit more prepared-"

The bodies. He could see the bodies everywhere. Watching. Waiting.

"-zen we could 'ave avoided all zis," he said, perhaps with a bit more emotion than even he intended. He needed to forget. For his sake, for their sake, for everyone's sake he needed to forget. This was only day one. Yet somehow, he found himself doubting it would be that easy.

"... Perhaps," he said after a moment of silence, "I am being a bit presumptuous, but... could you teach me, ma chère? Teach me 'ow to kill? You Heroic Spirits always seem to be so brave, even when you're out zere fighting and risking your lives. I doubt I could ever 'ave zat much courage, but at least... could you teach me 'ow to kill my doubts inside my 'ead?"

He tightened his grip. It seemed at some point he'd taken her hand without realizing it.

"Zese kids do not need a leader. Zey 'ave Leon for zat, whezer or not any of zem realize it yet. I don't zink even 'e does, but 'e will. What zey need is a grand vizier, a villain who can make all ze 'ard choices a leader cannot. If I can't be courageous or fight on ze front lines, zen I should at least be able to do zat much. Let me be zat necessary evil who does everyzing for Leon zat Leon cannot. Someone 'as to... it may as well be me."

Realizing just a little too late how ridiculous he looked making such a request of a professional assassin while dripping wet and dressed in nothing but a towel, Albert jerked his hand back, perhaps a bit quicker than he'd meant to, and turned his back to Locusta. He set about drying himself with renewed vigor and extreme gusto, utterly determined to put some pants on and right his earlier mistake. It marveled him how nonchalant she could be just getting up close and personal with him like that. Were Romans really like that in their public bathhouses? Perhaps.

Realizing at some point he'd have to take his towel off to put on his pants, Albert slowly turned to Locusta.

"Can you... perhaps... look ze ozer way? Just for a second?" he asked sheepishly. "Zis is not quite 'ow I imagined my first time getting naked in front of a woman would go."

And there was that infamous French charm, just oozing with charisma. For the son of a whore, he still got rather flustered when he was on the receiving end of situations like these.

---

Having finally tucked in his shirt and donned a new pair of pants, Albert headed down to the bar, where it seemed everyone else had decided to gather. Good. That would make this easier. First, however, he had something he needed to discuss with Leon privately. Where was he-...

Albert couldn't help catching quite the eyeful as he watched Leon play drunken tongue-wrestling with Rider of all people, and get quite into it at that. The man had more hair on his chest than he'd given him credit for. Made his earlier performance look downright disgraceful.

"Leon, you dog," he said with a broad grin as he descended the stairs, slow-clapping sarcastically all the way. "I never knew you 'ad it in you. Not even an 'our goes by and you've already managed to seduce one of our teammates. And a Servant, no less! You'd make a better Frenchman zan even me, it seems. Good job!"

He clasped his friend on the shoulder, obviously aware of how embarrassed and taken aback Leon was by the whole thing.

---

Leon was wondering how long it would take for Uncle Collins to get tired of him, and go pass out for the night. His eyes were heavy now and he seemed to be breathing a bit more slowly showing that he was getting tired. Leon himself was getting there himself. However when Albert came up to him, also somewhat expected, he brought up the fact that he just put his best effort into making Rider his for the night. Leon hid his face in his hands and grumbled to himself for a second to hide the fact the fact that he was still blushing rather hard about the matter. Collins patted him on the back. "I-I didn't do it on purpose! Well not the part that led up to that kiss. There's something about Rider that made me take it as far as I did though...not that I wouldn't not want to go a round with Rider...even with her weird accent." Leon said trying to bring up as much dignity as he could, not that there was much. "You're lucky kid. Not everyone would cross the clocktower's teachers. Lucky for me I have more than enough experience dealing with them fucks." Collins suddenly cut in as Leon took a look over to his uncle. Leon sighed, "He already knows your name, I told him pretty much everything up until a moment ago, this is my great uncle Collins. Ex-explorer, alchemist, and marksman. One of the most talented people I know...and the person who is taking us in for the night. He's agreed to give us food, and shelter for the night. He won't rat us out...he hates people like that." Leon said with a second doubt in his mind. He spoke with a calm confidence, still somewhat shaken though due to the aforementioned incident. "Authority, and everything that goes with it can go suck the biggest, fattest, blackest, dick in the world. I never got why people liked it so much...even less when...it's something like that." Collins said as he pointed at Albert's hand. "But just because I don't like what you just did with your lives doesn't mean I will hold it against you for now. Name's Mason O'brian Collins. Maybe you've heard of me. Maybe not. I don't care either way. If you gotta call me something Collins is fine. Mason makes me sound too serious.
Mister Collins is acceptable considering my dad, and brothers aren't here anymore." Collins continued but he didn't reach out a hand to Albert. Merely sat there looking at him with disinterest.

---

"Uh huhhhh..." Albert said warily as the drunk Irishman declined to so much as shake his hand. "Well, I zank you for your 'ospitality, Monsieur Collins. Zere weren't many places we could 'ave gone tonight. Not wiz zings turning out ze way zey did..."

Dropping the subject, for he no longer wished to speak of it this night, Albert looked back up at Leon.

"Can we talk? Alone, preferably? Zere is somezing I wish you to know before you start getting all broody on me again. Zough perhaps you 'ave Rider to see to zose needs now, non?"

He grinned devilishly from ear to ear in an uncanny way before relinquishing the attempt at forced levity entirely. Something, it seemed, was afoot in Inverness.

"Come wiz me," Albert said, and lowered his voice to a whisper. "Zere's been a bit of a... development. We'll want to discuss zis alone for ze time being. It... concerns you in particular."

Without saying much else, Albert walked nonchalantly over to the non-smoking area of the bar.

---

"Alright Frenchie have it your way. Just remember this is my side of town. Don't fuck me, and I won't fuck with you." Collins stated calmly as suddenly the man known as Harry came up to him and whispered something to Collins. "Of fucking course why wouldn't that be a problem...Whatever just let's handle this quick." Collins grumbled as he was led away by the younger man leaving Leon to Albert and his own devices. Leon wasn't sure he liked where this was going exactly. He eyed Albert for a moment before sighing, "She's drunk right now so that probably helped with that Albert. Not that things could go worse than they did tonight so I'm not judging anyone." Leon said as he sighed and put Collin's coat on the seat behind him before hurrying off to meet Albert's demand for a private audience away from everyone else. "I would much rather not start something with Rider. As pretty as she is they aren't my servant. In fact the grail made it clear that fuck who was 'teaching' us was much more of a suitable master than me." Leon said as he looked down at his blank hand. It held no command seals and he had only himself to blame for that. Leon looked down at the door that headed down towards the basement, "We can go down there and talk. Uncle Collins told me that the only things down there are liquor, and boxes. Said if shit hit the fan we could probably get away with keeping a person, or two down there. Just not to go snooping around in the other rooms if we could help it. He keeps private stuff down there." Leon continued briskly as Albert led them away.

---

Albert followed Leon's advice and opened the creaky old door leading down into the basement. He looked into the darkness with trepidation, trying to think of what words he might use to convince Leon.

"Assassin," he said, deep in thought, "guard ze door. I'll be back in a minute."

With that, he descended, Leon close behind. The door shut behind them, pushed by an invisible hand.

Coughing from the sheer amount of dust that had been allowed to build up over the years which was just now being disturbed, Albert uncomfortably cleared some space on the floor for them to talk. He sat down on a box, its label obscured by yet more dust.

"Yes, well," he hacked. "Zat was sort of what I wished to talk to you about. I can't stand it down 'ere, so I'll be blunt. I zink zere may still be a chance for you to summon Saber."

He waited patiently for the obligatory remarks of "What?!" and "You're crazy!"

---

Leon sighed audibly as he crossed his arms, and tried his best to resist slamming his hand against his head. "The rules were clear: 6 servants. Saber, Archer, Lancer. The three knights. Berserker, Rider, Assassin, and Caster rounded out the remaining servants. Leon reminded Albert. "No more, no less. Must I remind you that I was rejected the first time?" Leon stated as he looked around the place and found some more switches which he turned on and allowed the lights to come on exposing the rather tightly compacted area. He also saw some other stuff laying around such as alchemist tools, and ingredients. The rest of the stuff was probably located somewhere in the next few rooms. "I don't see why you want to bring this up here by ourselves. It's pointless. I can't summon Saber no more than I could summon Berserker, or Lancer. The system won't allow it more than it would allow anything else. The grail is a fickle piece of metal that won't just let anyone break it's rules. It has seven servants why on Earth would it allow another Saber Albert?" Leon said exasperated he hoped he wouldn't need to explain this to Albert of all people. "But you're smart. Smarter than most of our comrades here even if you sound funny sometimes. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and let you explain your hypothesis...assuming you have one." Leon stated calmly. He fidgeted his hand inside of his pocket where he was keeping his old catalyst the piece of the round table. He had put it there when he had arrived. It felt heavier now knowing that it was potentially useless as anything more than a paper weight at a museum.

---

And there it was. Even Leon, who'd known him longer than most, was still prone to saying such things around him. It was okay. It hadn't taken him long to grow accustomed to it at the Clocktower. At least this time it seemed like his detractor would be willing to listen.

"Yes, well," he began confidently. "Zat would 'ave normally been ze case, yes. But not zis time."

From his pocket he procured what looked like a gangrenous one-eyed, one-horned flying purple people-eater, and placed it gently on the ground before him. The bloated little pustule blinked at them with a hundred glassy black eyes that dipped in and out of its amorphous mass like fishing lures floating on the water's surface, then crooned with a croakish mew. Definitely one of Albert's pets.

"Mon petit raisin, could you be so kind as to show Leon what I am about to show you? Yes, zat's a good boy~" Albert cooed, scratching behind its... ears? Did it have ears? before quietly sitting back and closing his eyes.

The little horn at the top of the creature's head opened up, releasing a thousand tiny young which squeaked and squiggled like malevolent question marks come to life as they fled into the comforting darkness of the stairwell. The puckered aperture then belched a thick, foul-smelling gas that seemed to buzz and pulsate with a multitude of rainbow colors that glowed within the cloud like the lure of a deep sea angler. It covered them like a blanket, filling the room with its all-consuming foulness.

Albert did not seem particularly bothered by it, but he imagined the experience would be rather... novel for Leon, who had never been shown this particular species of Horror. It was a relatively new and delightful little discovery of Albert's, a creature he had tentatively given the name "lurecumber". Like a sea cucumber, except when it eviscerated its digestive organs out its anus, it released a noxious cloud of bioluminiscent ink to distract predators and lure in prey. Depending on the situation, it would then either flee and regrow its intestines once it had found shelter, or it would viciously consume both its prey and its now-sentient organs, which by then would have constricted around its prey and begun to bite.

Using magecraft, he had trained this one to be a projector for familiars and home movies. How fun!

"I had one of my pets record zis shortly after we fled ze scene," he explained, the cloud morphing into images seen by a small, stalkish eye.

The sensory apparatus had belonged to the Horror that had sacrificed itself attacking Ayondale. Albert had secretly given it the order to detach one of its arms and leave it in the burrow to spy on Richard and the professor after they were gone. The images, still ones at first, became moving pictures, then a full approximation of video, detailing Ayondale's execution of his comrades and his trip out on the loch. From where the eye cam was situated, all that could be seen was a very bright light with Ayondale's silhouette in the middle of it, and very little of what was being said, if indeed anything was, could be heard.

"You see zat? Yes... it's exactly what you zink it is. Zat's ze 'Oly Grail. Ze Greater Grail, to be precise. Ze main body of ze divine wish-granting engine. Zat cheating mozerfucker 'as buried it at ze bottom of Loch Ness, where no one will be able to reach it except 'im. But zat isn't ze interesting part."

Speeding up the recording with a command to his squamous Barney tumor, Albert arrived at a segment in which Ayondale's voice could be heard. The cloud seemed to vibrate as it attempted to "transmit" it through its gaseous medium, resulting in the sound being distorted by the low hum of old-school television static. Even so, Ayondale could still clearly be heard talking to someone.

'This is Ayondale. Are *bzzzt* on standby? Yes, the *bzzzzt* was *bzzzzt*. You may now *bzzzt*. Summon *bzzzt* Servants *bzzzt*, and meet me *bzzzzzt* by sunrise. I expect you all to be punctual. That includes you, *bzzzt*. Ayondale out.'

The message concluded and the recording over, the cloud receded, revealing no trace of the bioluminescent particles or the worms which had crawled out of the creature's stomach (worms which just so happened to be its stomach). The basement was barren and empty. The message had been "deleted".

"You 'eard 'im. While I can't be sure as to ze exact contents of zat message, 'e was clearly commanding someone to 'summon Servants'. I don't know 'ow, but somehow it seems like Ayondale 'as managed to modify ze Grail systems. 'E's added new rules. Now zis is just a guess, but don't you zink zat if whatever 'e did out zere on ze loch allowed 'im to summon more Servants, it would do ze same for us? I mean it's worth a try. What's ze worst zat could 'appen? If I'm wrong, all you'll get is rejected again. Big whoop. But if I'm right, maybe you can still summon Saber. Zat would let us even ze odds, or even tip zem in our favor. If we can summon a knight of ze Round Table, zeir fame 'ere in ze UK could match even zat of Ayondale's Saber. You know 'e's Richard ze Lionheart, right?"

Albert paused. It was a solid plan. At least he thought so. They weren't done for yet. If they could pull this off, they could turn the tables on Ayondale one last time, then flip them right into his stupid, stupid face. He hoped...

Question was, did Leon still have the catalyst, and moreover the will necessary to summon Saber now that he'd been rejected once already?

---

"Alright explain." Leon stated calmly as Albert brought out one of his pets from his pocket. Leon could only fathom what kind of monstrosity this thing was. Maybe it ate children. Maybe it bred asexually. Maybe it was one of the three things that could survive Pompey's eruption. Leon by habit immediately decided he wanted nothing to do with that smell and cast wind manipulation around his nose to prevent the thing from gagging him. The things Albert usually carried around were disgusting creatures. His father scoffed at the use of such things but Albert was quite adept at it. Everyone had their own special abilities in mage now of days. Leon was the most talented wind magi among the group. Albert got to carry around creatures Shrek would find repulsive. It was mutually exclusive now of days. He was still quite bothered by it when it though when it unleashed it foul odor into the air causing replication of some sort of event that had occurred by the lake. Leon counted himself lucky that he had cast his wind spell.

"I wonder do you ever get tired of turning living animals into some sort of magical device? What next a talking sea turtle with an Austrian accent the quotes terminator?" Leon questioned Albert sarcastically as he watched the scene unfold. Leon cringed though when he remembered how fast he was to turn coward. How fast he was to ditch when he was under threat. He believed he had good reason to, especially at the time, but it still hurt his pride as a mage. "But I must congratulate you on your quick thinking Albert good work." Leon said with a nod at his ex-roommate.

When Ayondale's voice came to his ears Leon was reminded of his extreme distaste for the man. Disregarding Leon as a dime a dozen mage, dismissing his father as an upstart mage, and treating him like some back water bastard child just because he was from America. All these things together made Leon loathe the man. Maybe it was petty but Leon was proud of his heritage, and proud of his ability to completely disregard all of that was to make him lower than the low. Leon wouldn't stand for that.

"So what? We just expect I summon a top class servant? What if I summon Percival? or Bors? Two of the weaker knights? What if I summon Lancelot? Can we risk someone like that appearing as anything other than Saber? Could I even handle King fucking Arthur if he appeared in front of me. Could I sustain someone like him, or Gawain in Britain? Top class, or not as a mage I may be of quality but as a master the grail may have already said it's words on me. I could also potentially summon a berserker, or a lancer. Then what would happen? We can't have two can we?" Leon said somewhat angrily as he held his hands out in front of him. He turned his back to Albert and pressed himself against the wall with his hands out forward. "Why is it even me you want? What makes me so god damn special? Just because I was your roommate? That I happen to hurt people a little better than the average mage?!" Leon smacked his hands against the stone wall of the basement.

"The exact reason I rebelled against the clocktower is because I refused to accept their authority! To use me, and others as tools!" Leon told Albert as he laughed a bit sardonically at himself. "And just look at me now. A coward who dodged at the first chance to fight an enemy servant. Hiding in his great uncle's basement wondering if he has any place in the world. Holy shit maybe Ayondale was right I am rather pathetic aren't I? Can't summon a hero, can't handle my first real fight in ages, and I'm hiding like
a rat in the rough. Dad would be so damn proud of me wouldn't he?" Leon berated himself angrily as he tried to calm his anger down breathing in calmly he clasped his hands on his head. "I shouldn't give up but the reasonable half of me is telling me that I should go back to America. At least there I can fuck up less."

---

Despairingly, Albert cradled his head in his hands, groaning as he absorbed what Leon had just said to him. He had. He had just said that. My God.

Albert half-groaned, half-roared with blind frustration and anger towards his friend. He was... was he really? No, he was. He was done. So done. After everything that had happened, after everything he'd said, he was fucking-

He let his arms fall to his sides belatedly, the two limp appendages flapping like a doll's. For a moment he just sat there, staring at the floor, before he sighed and got up, striding straight over to Leon. With the delivery of a swift, whistling backhand to the face, Albert attempted to slap some sense back into Leon, almost like a parent would for a misbehaving child. Jabbing his sharp, bony index finger into Leon's chest before he could finish mentally processing the attack, Albert drove his point home in about as aggressive a tone as Leon would've ever heard him use.

"You want to know why I chose you? You really want to know, you fucking dickhead? Yes, I chose you because of zose zings you just said. It's true, all of it. Zey're good qualities for a Master to 'ave. But ze real reason I chose you, ze real fucking reason I came to you first before anyone else, you self-loathing, self-righteous prick?" he said, voice rising, pounding each accusation in with another jab of his finger. "It's because I trust you to do ze right fucking zing Leon! And to not be as weak as I am! I can't do zis on my own!"

Albert huffed, his voice hoarse with the pain of his sudden screaming. Gesturing to himself now, he continued.

"I mean, did you ever zink I could? Did you zink zat just because I brought us all togezer zat meant zat I could lead zem? I don't 'ave what it takes to be a leader! I am not strong like you are! I am not courageous or handsome like you are! I can't inspire people like you do, I can't intimidate zem like you do! For christ's sake, I am five feet tall!"

The normally calm Albert seemed like he was halfway to hysteria, the stress of the day that he'd tried to control even around Assassin pouring out of him finally like a rampaging flood. His eyes were wide and mad, and desperately pleading.

"All I can do is read books, zink of sneaky little plans and play games by myself while everyone else goes off and does all ze fighting for me! Do you really zink people would respect zat?" he ranted. "Do you zink zey will ever respect zat? I am ze Lord of ze Squid! I am nozing but a joke to zem, or perhaps some disgusting, unwanted zing to be mocked and cleaned up after! I chose you because I need you for zis, Leon. I cannot lead zem! You must. So, ze first thing you must do if you want to start 'fucking up' less is take zat lump of fucking table, draw a circle around it, and try again."

His shoulders slumped, and finally he seemed to lose the fire in his eyes that had been fueling his hard-edged words. Everything he should've felt before, the fear, the terror, the anger, the sadness, and the desperation that he'd compartmentalized, he'd finally finished processing. Exhausted, breathing heavily and spent of all emotion, he just looked pleadingly at Leon.

"Please. Do not do zis to me now. Don't do it to zem. You'll never be pathetic so long as you try."

---

Leon felt the slap, and the pain that followed maybe if he cared to avoid it he would have. It wasn't something he couldn't take but it pissed him off something fierce as well. The self inflicted loathing Leon had been smothering all day was replaced by frustration, and anger. Why couldn't Albert freaking understand that he wasn't who he thought he was. A boy who was following in the footsteps of those who came before him. A father of unfathomable talent, a grand father who adventured high, and low. His mother's side of the family was also filled with talented magi. It was a wonder Leon turned out as pathetic as he did. "Do the right things? What kind of god damn matyr do you think I am? I'm a god damn American, and proud of it, but I'm not Davy Crockett, and I'm certainly not George Washington. I'm just me. Leon Winchester. A nobody mage from the backwoods of the midwest." Leon growled out as he backed off from Albert. He looked at him with disdain but sighed, and grabbed his head and ran his hands through his hair. "You shouldn't be ripping yourself apart Albert. That's unfitting for a mage. My grand father once told me: 'A true magi sticks to their guns, never fails to get back up, and never tries to go back on his word.' He's a better man than I could ever be..." Leon said surprisingly calmly as he stood there for a moment longer.

"Fine....I'll do it. If not for my sake then because I want to throw this mess under the table, and be done with it. One way, or another something changes tonight. More so than just getting my first kiss stolen from a spirit from ancient times. Or our friendship exploding like this. My pride as a mage will not allow me to run. Not again. I have to make a stand and see what that grail thinks of me. At least this one last time." Leon said as he looked around the room. Judging from the fact that it was rather small he looked over to another room. He opened a first door to a wine cellar which he closed, and then moved onto another down from it too a rather square room. It was likely his uncle's study. "Come on...let's get this over with." Leon stated as he walked into the room it was dark but he turned on a ceiling lamp and illuminated the room. A mahogny desk, a few guns scattered around, a few trinkets, some papers, various substances, and a picture on the desk but with half of it burnt off. He recognized the picture as that of his grand father, and Uncle Collins when they were much younger. Leon wondered if this was how his friendship with Albert would end. Unlike that of his fore bearers which went as well as it could've.

Leon looked at the large red carpet on the floor and decided to roll it up quickly. "Give me a second..." Leon said as he rolled the thing up and carefully put if off to the side. Underneath it was a trap door. But enough room was left that it allowed Leon to do as he pleased. But he didn't have enough silver left. He used most of it to do the circle. Leon sighed and decided he'd need to borrow something else from his uncle. He looked around and found some sort of bone meal that would suffice. Leon began to lay out the rough powder on the floor. "If I do this...I do this my way." Leon told Albert firmly as he began to do the circle. This time there was no pressure on him to hurry up. Leon gingerly pulled out the piece of the round table from his pocket, and looked at it. He sighed, and nodded as he placed it down carefully in the middle. Not allowing himself to make mistakes Leon had formed the circle with ease. He walked away from the circle and took his place some distance away from it. Breathing out deeply Leon rolled his arms, and cracked his neck. Leon breathed in deeply as he began his ritual.

"Let silver, and steel be the essence.
Let stone, and the archduke of contracts be the foundation of our connection.
Let my faith in you be the tribute I pay to your greatness.
Let rise a wall against the destruction that shall come.
Let the four cardinal gates close to open up a new world.
Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate."

Leon began as he held up his right hand, and his left hand over the right side of forearm. He breathed in deeply speaking calmly, and but with frustration leaking out into his voice. He calmly controlled himself as he saw the circle sparkle, somewhat dreadfully considering the material used, and managed to control his breathing. Leon would not allow himself to fail, not here, and not now. He failed once if he didn't give it his all what would he say to Albert exactly? That Leon Winchester was a lying fool? He wasn't.

"Let it be declared now;
your flesh shall serve under me, and my fate shall be with your sword.
Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail.
Answer, if you would submit to this will and this truth."

Leon shouted out proudly as the circle lit up brightly even more so than before. It seemed the thing was responding at the very least. Maybe Albert was right, and this would work? He couldn't let up now Leon didn't let his thoughts cloud his mind though the words were still present in his mind. Though he had added a few alterations to the standard ritual it should still work.

"An oath shall be sworn here.
I shall attain all virtues of all of Heaven;
I shall have dominion over all evils of all of Hell."

Leon wasn't satisfied with that though. He was aware that Berserker could add in an extra line...perhaps now he should make his thoughts clear on the matter. To whoever answered his call, if any, what this would come with. His faith in them was already his tribute. But that wasn't enough for him.

"But by my will let this ritual be our blood oath!
For your destiny, and mine be chained together as one!
I shall wield this burden of fate that has ensnared us both, as we both struggle for our new future together forever more!"

Leon said aloud with pride as he felt some wind kick back. Well shit this really was working...

"From the highest Heaven, and from the deepest hell attended to by three great words of power,
come forth from the ring of restraint, protector of the holy balance!" Leon shouted out loudly as he felt the restraint kick back.

====

.....Cold.....well...it wasn't unexpected....the bloody air tasted like copper, and the hole in her gut still felt as painful as it had ever. She stared at the orange sky through the blood dripping down her face. It had been like this for awhile now...for how long? She wasn't sure. The battle was suppose to be a finale. But it wasn't the sort of finale that they wanted. It wasn't what she wanted she deserved better than this. Father...father had failed, and the people had joined her in revolt. She wouldn't have gotten this far if she hadn't been correct. Yet Gawain, and the other still sided with her Father. It was...not unexpected. The round table was always the loudest echo chamber. Always praising father. Blind, and foolish...they all were as they served the greatest king of all right? Conquests, and victories abound. Objects long thought lost recovered. Many adventures were had, and more than a few barbarians were destroyed beneath their feet.

Yet...here she was...for all of her progress she was still inferior it seemed. Time was just an object to her now. What was the point? Not like she could get up anymore. But for this to be the moment she had to relive for an eternity? Well...it could've been better if not for the stench of death. The smell was because of her though. It was just irrelevant now she had gotten too use to it.

She thought about how long it's been since she stood up from this spot. How long it had been since she got a chance to do anything but sit here dying. It was boring. So very boring....But wait...what? She could hear something...a voice? Someone calling out to her? Here? Well...about time...she thought this was all she would get to see for the next eternity. Deciding to try once more she lifted her hand towards the orange dimly lit sky. As a light shown brighter. She could hear the voice more clearly...you know what? Whatever was on the other side of that...was better than this...A title came to her mind one that sounded familiar as it was the weapon she used more often than not. Alright she'd take that name. A excited smile crossed her lips. She chuckled quietly. "About time..." she muttered as the light from the sky engulfed her.

====



Leon stood there for a moment as the room was swept with wind scattered some papers, and some objects here and there but not enough to shake the building. Leon stood there as he looked at his left hand. A symbol was etched into his hand as a red light faded from his hand. A red x was emblazoned there two diamond shaped symbols on top, and on the bottom surrounding the x. Leon could hardly believe it but something more took precedent. A knight sat kneeling on the floor in front of him. The knight was smaller than he expected them to be, and he couldn't read them for one reason or another just yet. "I have been summoned!" The knight said with a bit of excitement in their voice as they stood up. Their sword cackled with red lightning, and a dark blood textured aura. "Thou Art my master whom has summoned me from beyond the withered grasp of time. Reborn as like the moon...as to engage, and slay at your grim desire." the knight said as they looked at Leon who stood firmly in front of them unflinching, and moving...Saber chuckled a bit as suddenly their helmet retracted disjointing and retracting into the armor, and what followed was the blonde hair of a pretty young woman with fierce eyes staring directly at Leon. Her hair fluttered around her for a moment, and her aura was powerful. Anyone with half a brain could tell she was dangerous. "I ask this of you: Are you the one whom calls himself my master?" the knight said as Leon nodded. "Indeed I am." he said without hesitation but he felt the sweat drip from his brow he didn't move to wipe it off. "I ask for your name servant. Would you kindly give it to me so that I may know to whom that I speak?" Leon asked respectfully, and somewhat calmly. The servant slammed their sword forward into the floor and spoke proudly, and loudly. "I am Mordred Pendragon. The one, and true heir to Arthur Pendragon." Saber said as a smile crept across her face. Leon however tried to hide his shock. Of all people he didn't expect this one to heed his summons...the implications..."So master I ask of you...who's first?" Saber said with excitement apparently more than ready to find her first enemy. Leon wasn't sure if what he felt was pride, or fear but he was not going to back down now. The contract was sealed.

---

Albert watched from afar, slack-jawed with mouth agape. His first reaction had been to yell "I told you so!" in some crude and bro-ish fashion. He felt that after everything that had been said and done today, he deserved that tiny victory at least. But the jubilation had died in his throat when the knight, who was surprisingly a woman, spoke her name aloud.

Mordred Pendragon. The Knight of Treachery.

"... baise moi mor."

"Mordred Pendragon it is my honor to have you heed my summons. Thank you for giving me your name let me offer mine. My name is Leon. Leon Winchester I hope we get along well. I would like to clarify something first if you don't mind...you are of the Saber class correct?" Leon asked as Mordred stood before him and raised an eyebrow at him staring in confusion at her new master. Leon offered her a hand shake but she ignored it and looked around. "A dusty old basement like this is unfitting for summoning a servant. Still it could be worse...and I can feel your hesitation master you shouldn't worry. But yes that is correct I am of the Saber class. Master that seems like a rather strange thing to ask of me. If what the grail tells me is right all the previous classes have been summoned....and some of them are nearby...I suppose we'll need to take care of that quickly before we settle things." Saber said as she looked above the three of them for a moment. But then she noticed something when looking down. A scrawny, smelly, and distressed looking man...and then she noticed the command seals....

"Explain this one's presence master. He's an enemy master isn't he? Whatever he doesn't look like he'll be too much trouble to-" Saber began to say as she lifted her sword towards Albert. Leon stepped in front of Mordred, and laid a hand on her shoulder rather boldly. He couldn't allow things to spiral out of hand like this. He may not have expected to summon Mordred but he did. He would need to take charge, and make sure the situation didn't deteriorate. "He's a friend of mine. His name is Albert, and he is a fellow master yes. But this war is more complicated than the usual ones. I'll try to explain it to the best of my ability. Please do not harm him." Leon asked of his servant who looked at him with skeptical eyes.

"He doesn't look too impressive...can't imagine him, or his servant would be all too useful if first impressions are right." Saber said looking over Leon's shoulder to Albert with a equally skeptical glare. "He may not look like much but he is a strong friend to have. It's arguable if anyone of us would be here if he hadn't helped me." Leon said as Saber looked him with the same skeptical eyes she gave to him before. "I do hope you have a spine master, or this will be a short relationship." Saber told Leon as he chuckled to himself.

"I can back up my words rather well Saber don't worry. I may be young but I was trained specifically to fight other mages. But I have a few questions for you if you don't mind. They're rather personal ones, and I'd not want to offend you if you don't want to answer them right now." Leon said to Saber as she nodded at him. "If that is what you want I'm willing to answer. But I have some for you as well....alone if you don't mind master." as Saber turned around though she frowned with a deep seated scorn and ran her blade through the piece of the round table destroying it on the spot. It would seem that this was Mordred of Camelot...Leon couldn't think of anyone else with as much deep seated disdain for her own summoning catalyst. She proceeded to use the steel plate armored boots of hers to mash the thing into a dust scattering the bone meal used for the ritual across the room. He'd need to apologize to Uncle Collins for all of this..."Not a fan of your old friends I take it?" Leon asked Saber who turned back to him, "I would hardly call them friends. I'm more than some sad round table knight."