Location: The Deacon Arms Tavern: roof → basement.
Interacting with: Leon Winchester & Saber of Red @vancexentan; Albert Prelati @Turboshitter; James Hartnet @Shadow Daedalus.
Magical energy: 592 out of 600.

It wasn't a bad view from the roof of the tavern; Archer couldn't find himself distantly musing about the progress of society while he kept his watch from his spiritual form. It had only been a little over 500 years, hadn't it? In his life, he was jumping into moats and galloping along beaten tracks on horseback, yet now they had great towers over cars and sealed roads. The change in social norm was also astounding: it was almost as if he had stepped into a whole different world from what he was familiar with. Supposedly, there was even a street named in his honor after he gave his life for the cause. What a shame that he wasn't summoned in Fran-

Archer's senses spiked; spiked wasn't a fair word to use, it more so screamed at him. A massive outburst of magical energy- no, wait, a servant-
"Saber!?" Archer almost shouted, taken off guard by the sudden appearance of the unfamiliar servant below him. No doubt, his words would ring through the mind of his master. "Saber's back, underneath us! Alert the others!"

Archer wasted no time moving to respond. In his spiritual form, after taking a quick glance over the perimeter from the roof, he pressed down through ceiling and floors alike, seeking out the source of his sensory screaming. It led him to the basement: where an unfamiliar figure stood before...
"...two of the masters. Good heavens-" At the foot on the stairwell, Archer materialized: he was half-kneeling, pistol presented towards the unwelcome servant. In his mind, as much as it sat wrong with him, he knew what he would have to do: if he was going to stand a chance against a Saber-class in such inhospitable circumstances, he couldn't hold back. He would need to use his Noble Phantasm, and if that didn't work, the staircase might give him a chance to dematerialize again before he's bisected.

"Get down!" Archer shouted to the two masters in the basement as he focused his aim on the servant. The words sat on the tip of his tongue, ready and able: he would have to act as David to Goliath yet again.

Seems like Rider is popular today. For all the wrong reasons. How could she, a Mongol, possibly know of these strange laws in this God forsaken place? In her home, the kids drank airag from the moment they turned five, though truthfully children never were allowed to drink a lot. But they had to drink some, it was simply safer to the fermented, poor quality water of the steppes. So to her, a truehearted Mongol, the very mention of minor age and the like is as foreign a concept as eating food with utensils. And of course, she simply laughed at the very suggestion from Caster that alcohol was bad. A concept she was not familiar with, and if it existed then she be damned it's a creation of the artistocratic elite. Perhaps this Caster belongs to them? She wouldn't know, but Genghis found it very strange that he'd interrupt her good intentions. They were, after all, far and wide between.

"Wha' in th'Sky's name are you blabberin' 'bout? My goal ain' gettin' th'poor lassie 'ere ta' get wasted. Tha's fer me 'n me alone." Truthfully she already was, but her Mongol pride cut her from mentioning that part, "Bu' when it comes t'events like t'deh, I know talkin's the cure, especialleey te' a friendly ear. An' nothin' gets ya' talkin' like a lil' extra." She shrugged, no one had more experience than her in mending a broken mind after seeing people slaughtered like cattle, usually due to her causing them. But then again, she slaughtered families and then recruited the survivors to her horde, so she had to be good with words. Really, really good. Like, she killed their loved ones and then brought them under her wing? She'd never heard of any person capable of doing so in all of history. So perhaps her name as 'The Scourge of God' held some truth after all.

But at the end of the day, the girl was not her master. Caster should truthfully be the one the girl opens her heart to, not the greatest murderer in history. Even though, and Genghis briefly examined the male, he didn't seem like the sort used to genocides or the aftermaths of it. "Bu' fair, I'll concede. Th'lassie's yer' master. Lemme jus' say this one final thing, aye? Master o' Caster.. ey, that rhymes.. Ah sorry, yea. Don' let th'events get to ya', alright? Funnel 'em instea'. Use 'em as yer' weapon.
'Nd kick th'arse o' th'one tha' caused it. And remembah, Big Sis'll always keep an ear open fer' ya." She offered her a consoling smile, before preparing to raise up from her seat. But it would appear her own master had her own piece to say, in such a ruthless manner that even the person whose very name was and is used to inspire fear grimaced.

That was uncalled for, Master. Poor cutie'll either take it as a challenge to rise up, or crumble down like the walls of China. Genghis thought to herself while gently peering at the group. When she felt she'd heard enough, she rose up and walked off. In anger? Not really. In a drunken haze? Not that either. No, instead, she decided to meditate a bit. As she always did after battles, because she knew that many had to suffer for the greater good. And she caused suffering every so often, indeed so often that she by now had a ritual for the post-battles.

She seemed to be rather steady at feet when prowling off, out the door to a smll patch of grass. And there she sat down in lotus position, with her eyes closed while chanting softly, but loud enough for any close to hear, a couple lines in Mongolian. Even the appearance of a Saber-class servant in this very area didn't disturb her. It was not her business, after all. This whole grail war was but a war for the privileged, a war for those that already wield tremendous power, both socially and otherwise, and so they were all technically speaking her enemy. Every single person and heroic spirit here. Even her own Master was.

But she'd put that aside for now. No need to antagonize those that, presumably, are her allies in the moment. But one thing was clear, she needed to speak to her Master about all of this long before the action truly went off. Genghis smiled, no grinned, at the thought. She knew little about her master, all she knew was that the girl seemingly lacked a heart. Or spirit. As if guided by something completely ethereal and faceless. As if she was molded from youth to be a heartless person. To Rider, that is relatable. For she too, is heartless.

Saber, for a moment, was surprised too see another servant so brashly interrupting them. But that surprise didn't take long to get over as she quickly figured this was one of the enemy servants she felt nearby.Judging by the fact that he was hostile meant that he wasn't that kid's master. Mordred only took a moment to get into her batle stance. "Master get behind me NOW!" Saber said her helmet forming around her head she brought Clarent to bare in front of her the dark blade glimmering with lightning. She held her ground and felt the prana forming at her feet mana burst ready to activate to close the short distance between the two, and cut the enemy servant down in a mere moment. They had made a mistake in entering such an enclosed area. "Some servant you are can't you tell you're already dead!?" Saber laughed at the enemy servant as she was about to pounce Leon stopped her a firm command from him coming out of his mouth. "Enough! By my order as a master both of you calm yourself! Saber stand down please! I don't want to use a command seal over a misunderstanding!" Leon ordered as he grabbed Mordred's shoulder again once more firmly despite her shoving him behind her in order to protect Leon from harm.

"Archer if you value my life, and your own chances at winning this war then stand down. This Saber will tear you apart at this range. This is not the same Saber that you fought against earlier. I want you to look at this one for a moment and tell me: Does this Saber remotely resemble the one we saw earlier?" Leon demanded an answer out of archer as Saber kept her ground ready to strike. "Another Saber? What the hell are you going on about master?" Mordred questioned her master confused but not wiling to take her eyes off a possible enemy. Clarent flared and Mordred did make note of that. It didn't usually do that...maybe because it was the throne of heroes making it strong due to her being summoned...perhaps in her homeland? Things like that would have to wait later. "There must be some sort of weird system in place with the grail. Maybe it's because so many of the servants are now fighting on the same side it allowed the summoning of more. That must mean...damn! Look just stand down, and we can talk this out like reasonable individuals. Or we can destroy the whole building including a bunch of normal people upstairs." Leon pointed out as Mordred growled but her concious wouldn't allow her to risk the lives of innocent people. Despite the questions spiraling in her head she eased up on her attack stance. "I'll stand down when he does. I can't let harm come to you Master. They'll have to go through me if they want to get to you." Saber said stubbornly.

---

Lancer appeared at his Master's side in a faint flash of light. He had stayed in his spiritual form when they had all retreated. He was ashamed that he was brought down to such a form during his first fight, and didn't want to show himself, especially to the other Servants, now that it was made apparent that his own Master was not a target to the rest after all. Still, Lancer felt like he failed to protect his Master, regardless, as she is here, now, crying and in doubt of her skill. Had he known she was blind, he would have chosen the ability to craft a holy shroud, if it was even possible to grant her one that would give her true sight. And for some odd reason, Lancer's third Noble Phantasm feels far too out of reach for him to access normally... otherwise, he would be able to cure her of her affliction, and possibly replace his own spear with another minor relic.

Lancer may be a saint, but he isn't no miracle worker...

"I do not think you are worthless... far from it. You shouldn't blame yourself for your enemies ambushing you in such a way. They may have the upper hand now, but if we are able to keep our resolve, then we will be able to emerge victorious. Otherwise, all those lives would have been lost in vain."

Lancer had only hoped his words of inspiration would have his Master worry less. As for her interrogation as to who he actually is, Lancer took a kneeling stance, holding his helmet in his arms as he bowed his head.

"Yes, I am the one and true Constantine the Great. While I would be able to prove it to you easily, I am unable to access my third Noble Phantasm, which is a shame, as I will be forced to fight unarmed for the rest of the War. I do have one replacement to my spear that we could use, but I must not draw it. Another... aspect of myself was summoned with me. One that was formed from the opinions of those who aligned me with the other Roman emperors of the past; a bloodthirsty tyrant who wishes only to butcher his enemies. I must not work towards any selfish goals, lest I risk drawing that fiend out... and I won't have any control over myself, or my actions."

"So I must ask of you, my Master, to command me to your bidding, that it is if it contributes towards an honorable cause. I will serve you to the best of my ability so long as we can avoid the darkness that lurks within my core. As for right now, however, I believe it is imperative for us to find a weapon that could replace my spear, any relic or artifact of Christian origins will work, even a blessed cross, if we must."

Archer's shout was enough to interrupt James' sleep, but it took a second for his tired mind to process just what his servant had said. He let out a low curse before pulling his jeans back on (No way was he fighting his old professor in just his boxer shorts) and pulling the gun case from under his bed, quickly retrieving the weapon inside before bolting down the stairs into the main foyer of the tavern, uncaring that he was barefoot and shirtless.

"Saber's in the basement, below us! Move!"

He wasted little time, sliding to a stop to deliver the brief warning before heading towards the stairs leading down into the basement, knowing that where Saber was present his arrogant bastard of a Master wouldn't be hard to him. The bastard probably wanted to be able see it when the zombie-like knight of the sword enacted his 'revenge' on the only students with the metaphoric balls to stand against him in such a considerable way. He threw open the door and began to make his way down, only to overhear Leon shout for Archer to stand down. Frowning slightly, James slowed his pace but kept Mana Zero ready should he need. He had nearly reached his servant as he tried to make sense of what he could see.

An unknown Servant, a Saber if what Archer had said was true yet different to the one at Urquhart Castle, was standing in the room and both Leon and Albert were present, and not slaughtered. In fact, the red-accented Saber seemed to be... protecting one of them? James made his presence know with a verbal order, letting the armoured figure know he wasn't a threat.

"Archer, Stand down. Leon, or the french kid whichever one works, explain to me what I'm currently looking at. Because that looks like a Saber servant. A second Saber servant."

James may not have been the most powerful Magi by a long shot, but he did know the rules of the grail war, and he knew how to count. 7 Classes, One servant in each class. Two Sabers, or two servants of any class for that matter, was definitely outside of the norm... well, the norm for a grail war at least.

Location: The Deacon Arms Tavern: basement.
Interacting with: Leon Winchester & Saber of Red @vancexentan; Albert Prelati @Turboshitter; James Hartnet @Shadow Daedalus.
Magical energy: 592 out of 600.

A blurr of movement, a shift in stance. Archer, anticipating the would-be enemy moving to close the distance, cocked his legs in preparation for something similar: to retreat up the staircase, to force the swordsman into an uphill battle in an area so enclosed that the sword can only be thrust and not swung. A risky maneuver - desperate, even - but he could only hope that his master wouldn't be far behind him-

...the Saber is listening to Leon? A misunderstanding? Eh?

While Archer remained silent, he kept his pistol pointed firmly at the servant's upper mass; yet, he for now he kept his hand, making a note of listening to the conversation. Leon was right in one thing: this wasn't the same Saber. Was this one of the servants abilities, or maybe a spell by Ayondale? Or was something more sinister at work here: was Leon the traitor Archer so suspected?

"I'll stand down when he does. I can't let harm come to you Master. They'll have to go through me if they want to get to you." Saber pressed, to Archer's chagrin. Already, he was irritated - her blunt, vocal personality made a note of wearing on him, prompting him to adjust his finger on his pistol's trigger. She was holding her ground. One shot through the chest could be enough: if the shot penetrated the front but not the back, it could wreak all sorts of havoc stuck inside. One shot, and Ayondale's great plot would be over-
"Archer, stand down." came a familiar voice from behind. It resonated in the corners of his mind, vaguely playing on the telepathic link. It could only be his master. Reluctantly, after a moment of pause, Archer pulled his arm in towards him to hold the pistol vertically as he stepped back and to the side, to let his master through; he did keep his pistol well in hand, though. Keeping his eyes locked on the Saber, Archer shared his thoughts with his master telepathically:
"How convenient..." he began, shifting his stance a little, "...our summoning site mysteriously leaks to our enemy and then the boy has a servant of the same class."

"I want to make on thing clear 'Archer' if you point that gun at my master again I will end you." Saber said as she lowered her blade, and once more slammed the weapon into the floor. "Not very good opening impressions." Leon said sarcastically as Saber grumbled in annoyance at the statement and turned her gaze to Leon. "Showing any sort of weakness is paramount to asking to get killed. I'll not back down from anyone, or anything. Father was many things but they often espoused that mercy should only be shown when need be. Besides I hate losing." Saber said with indifference as they kept themselves between Leon, and the rest of the group. "It's exactly like it appears. You stand in the presence of a second saber class servant. One of the famed Knights of the Round Table. I don't know the specifics of how but the jest of 'why' is because Albert wanted me to try. He managed to get some info. Apparently our 'teacher' is up to something possibly summoning more servants. How he came to do so, or why he is even trying is something I can't tell you because I don't know myself. Suffice to say this holy grail war just got much bigger." Leon told James further as Saber chuckled maliciously.

"The term you're looking for Master is 'The Great Holy Grail War'. It's starting to make some sense now if you just explained this sooner this whole scenario with archer may have been avoided. All the same chances are there are at least six more servants." Saber stated confidently as she raised her blade and beheld the red flaring light emanating from it with a toothy grin underneath her helmet. Excitement stirred in her belly as she wondered just what all of this meant. "How do you know this Saber?" Leon questioned his servant as she rolled her eyes, "As a servant I'm aware of some legends, and some knowledge that the Throne of Heroes has collected. There have been previous Great Holy Grail Wars triggered by when too many servants team up. I could be wrong however. I'm not some sort of book on how Holy Grail Wars work. It just means I have to put more of those slack jawed morons in the ground where they belong if I'm correct. There's no servant in the war who can hope to best me master. This battle was decided the moment I appeared." Saber said not so humbly bragging as they smiled confidently."I believe it Saber if anyone can turn the tide of this war in our favor it would be you." Leon said as he smiled at Mordred who was slightly surprised by the praise but it only boosted his confidence in herself. "Don't worry Master just leave everything to me!" Saber said pounding her iron gauntlet against her chest and nodding her head.

When everyone was focused on the issues going on by the summon of Mordred Pendragon they didn't notice the fact that unbeknownst to them a small group has shuffled into the basement behind the initial group. Shoving their way past Assassin the group entered, and suddenly a extremely violent, and loud bang filled the room along side the smell of smoke. Standing in the door way holding a shotgun, a automatic, with it's barrel smoking, and surrounded by his men was Mason Collins. His face contorted into absolute disdain as he beheld the group in the room. And when he finally laid his eyes on Leon a look of deep shame for a brief moment followed by an even briefly glimpse of disgust then a cold hard coolness. He spit on his own floor, and gave a deep breathe. "This whole fucking room, and part of the house is sound proof. You should be lucky for that otherwise I'd need to explain to the other people why I just fired a fucking blank into my ceiling." Collins growled as he walked into the study. "Second off all you fucks need to get out of the god damn celler. Now! I'm not taking this bullshit. This is my fucking inn, and I ain't having no assholes wreck it over a god damn squabble over a chalice that just happened to be touched by the blood of that stupid messiah you all seem to fucking love so much." Collins said as he looked over to Leon, "You...you're fucking lucky that there's people here right now. But me, and you....and that THING are going to have a talk later." Collins said as he pointed harshly towards Saber with contempt. It was a blur but Collins was suddenly slammed into a wall. It wasn't even a moment it was almost instantaneous. Saber held Collins to the wall with one arm, and heaved their blade against Collin's throat. It only took a moment for the men flanking Collins to point their guns at Mordred. "Call me a THING one more time, and I'll destroy you! I don't care who you are no one talks to me like that!" Saber shouted angrily as they held their blade firmly against the man's throat. She would not be called a 'thing' by this bastard! How dare he insult the heir to the throne of kings!

Collins for his part looked Mordred in the face without any hint of fear. In fact he looked more disgusted by her then before, and actually somewhat amused. The men held their guns ready to shoot Saber at the command. The four people were held in deadlock for a moment before Collins smiled at Saber, "Looks like you summoned one hell of a bitch Leon. I don't know who the fuck you think you-" Collins began as Saber slammed him into the wall harder, "Shut the hell up! You think I'm not above spilling your-" Instinct suddenly kicked in for Saber as Collins underhanded tossed a small glass vile into the air between Mordred's arms. She pulled back quickly but Collins, whom had dropped his shotgun, quickly pulled out a small black pistol and shot the vile in mid-air a practiced, and well rehearsed movement. The liquid inside the bottle, a tan substance, flowed around the two of them the substance coated Saber's fingers and Collin's shirt. Then suddenly a chemical reaction occurred and the substance bloated, and expanded into a foamy blob that covered Saber's hands, and Collin's shirt. Saber's eyes widened underneath her helmet as she saw her clenched hands get covered in the substance. She couldn't move her fingers anymore. The substance stuck to her hands, and wouldn't break apart. "No I'm aware of how fucked your kind is ghost. Saber by the looks of it. Doesn't mean that I'm afraid of you cunts. I'm many things...but I'm never a defenseless coward. Like the spirit though...can at least appreciate someone who doesn't take shit from someone else." Collins growled as he looked at Saber who glared daggers at Collins through his helmet. Leon rushed over in that moment.

"Enough! Saber this is my great uncle his name is Mason Collins please refrain from attacking him. I'll explain more to you outside please just for now let's please calm down, and not cause more damage then needed. And Uncle please refrain from calling Saber anything insulting. I understand that you might have had issues...I'll tell you about this later." Leon said trying to usher some sort of control over the situation. Collins grunted, and turned his back to his nephew. "Yeah I'd expect as much. But for now I'm going clean up my study. Now get out." Collins grumbled as he whistled and his men backed away. Before Leon could leave though he shoved a green bottle into Leon's hands. "Use that on Saber. That shit won't come off for a while unless you do. She can try and rip, and tear at it all she wants but I made it from a chemical level to not rip, or tear under any circumstances." He told Leon who nodded and took it. "This isn't over Collins! I'll remember this!" Saber shouted at the Irishman as she rather awkwardly stood there unable to do much under the current circumstances besides stew in her own anger, and remember not to make this same mistake again. Collins waited, and made sure everyone was out of the room before locking the basement doors behind them refusing to answer any further questions leaving him, and the rest of the group to do what they wanted in the now empty ground floor of the building.

-----

Leon excused himself from the main party and led Saber outside. There he sat down in the grassy backyard of the inn, and poured the green substance down on Saber's hands having to awkwardly move around the sword still clenched in one of her hands. Leon looked Saber over and the mucky hardened foam slowly evaporated, and dropped on the floor turning into liquid which seeped into the ground. Saber at the moment was suddenly coated in red energy as the armor around her evaporated leaving her clothed in rather few lines of clothing. Leon tried not to stare at Saber she wasn't a average looking girl by any means of his own imagination. But it felt weird looking at her like that because he was now deeply connected to the one who was called 'The Knight of Londinium'. Saber was still angry her face hanging onto a frown as she clutched at the dirt with her hands.

"That bastard uncle of yours got lucky. I didn't kill them because I wasn't sure what purpose he had. Didn't think I'd end up falling for an mage's trap like that. Won't happen again I promise." Saber said as if she was more disappointed in her own lack of action than anything. "Mistakes happen Saber...Mordred. I'm sorry that Uncle Collins called you a thing...I don't know why but it seems he has a clear dislike for heroic spirits. I didn't know. For my part however I didn't act in accordance to that which would be worthy of being called your master. I should have interceded on your behalf sooner. I-" Leon began as Mordred turned to look at him now with annoyance overcoming her self disgust.

"Oi master! I don't want you talking like that. I like professionalism but you're taking things a bit too far right now. I appreciate the thought but we'd be better off establishing some things. Let's just go over what's happened tonight before I was summoned." Mordred told Leon as she stabbed Clarent into the ground. She would not have her master acting like some fop when he was around her. Leon on his half took note on what Mordred had told him before explaining the circumstances of the night. The events leading up to the night, and their mission to take down their old teacher. He had chosen on his own personal preference to neglect him kissing Rider earlier.

Saber snorted, and laughed a bit. "So you stole my catalyst? I was wondering why a person like you would summon me. You don't seem like the sort of guy who would normally end up calling to me. I'd take you more for a Percival, or maybe even that idiot Gawain." Saber said laughing her frown turning into a smile. She finally understood what had led to her being called her and it made sense. "What are you talking about Saber?" Leon asked her with a confused voice as he stared at his servant for a moment trying to figure out what had cracked her up. I mean tonight was rather bleak. People had died after all, and Leon had failed in summoning Mordred once already. "A bunch of thieves, who hate the authority of someone above them, stole a catalyst from the round table, and a bunch of other ones, and proceeded to go onto try and challenge said authority...sound familiar?" Saber said with a smile as Leon realized now that the grail had a bizarre sense of humor...or since he was a thief believed that someone like him would fit better than a proper knight of the round table. "I didn't get this sword, Clarent, legitimately from father you know. I took it when I rebelled." Saber said as she nodded over towards Clarent which was laying on the ground next to her. It's red maelstrom of power had calmed a bit since Saber had put it down. Leon figured now would be the best time however to get Mordred to discuss...well her history. She was after all the famed 'Knight of Treachery."

"So why did you do it? I mean rebel against Arthur I mean. He was supposedly the righteous king who saved Britain, and you claimed back when you were summoned to be the true rightful heir. Why would you go after your own father, and raise your blade in rebellion?" Leon asked as Mordred instantly sobered up at the mention of their father. She turned rather stone cold serious as she looked at Leon. "Father never once saw me as anything more than a servant. He never appreciated my skills, or my talents. Or anything for that matter." Saber told Leon as she grew rather distant suddenly remembering her own past. She grew angry as she glared at the ground, and punched it shaking it. "So I showed 'King Arthur' what their reign was. I wanted to look at them when I told threw them down, and ask them what they saw when they looked around them and saw what their reign was worth in the end." Saber told Leon with frustration in her voice as she turned her head back at him.

"So...then is your wish for the grail to finally become King?" Leon questioned as he looked at Mordred with all the earnest attention he could give her. It was not just to placate her he genuinely was interested in understand why the woman in front of him did what she did. "To show that your father was wrong in not allowing you to take the throne in his stead?" Leon asked further as Saber shook her head. "Don't be daft master. Having the grail give me the throne would be both pointless, and meaningless. What would I get from becoming King of Camelot if I had no real claim to it? I want to challenge the sword in the stone. Just as father, the King of Knights, once did."Saber informed Leon as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"So you want a try? You don't want to guarantee it?" Leon asked Saber who looked at him with a bit of anger, "Of course pulling the sword would be guaranteed in the first place Master. What you don't think I could do it?" Saber questioned Leon in return with a harsh frown as Leon shook his head. "I'll be honest Saber I do think you have a chance but my own father never once told me to take anything as a guarantee. But for what it's worth." Leon said as he remembered his training with his father back in his younger days. The harsh reality of failure as a young magus was always prevalent but he never surrendered, nor gave up. He failed but he was not allowed to falter. It was because of his own harsh training that Leon was made into who he was today. Leon smiled at Mordred whom had grown angry at Leon's mention of failure, "If anyone other than Arthur can do it I believe it can be you. The one who defeated him, and cast him down. If his path was not right then perhaps yours may have been. From my point of view Mordred maybe the power of Caliburn, and Excalibur failed because they were not willing to step down to someone who may have been better suited for the throne. Someone like you." Leon said as Mordred looked at Leon with a bit of welcome surprise as she smiled, and nodded.

"I appreciate the vote of confidence master." Saber said with a smile. "So then...I'd like to welcome you to this side of the holy grail war Saber. Together we shall win, and not only win we shall crush all of those who seek to throw us down. A blood oath was made. Shall we win this together then? Partner?" Leon asked as he reached out his hand to Mordred who nodded, and grinned a toothy excited smile before smacking Leon's hand and grasping it firmly shaking it. "Let's do this MASTER!" Saber said with satisfaction as the two sealed their alliance. Mordred was happy with her choice of master. He lacked initiative but he believed in her. And Leon was happy that his Saber was an honest person. Forthright, and true to herself, even with her own troubled past. "Awesome! Now before we do anything more for night I have a question, a rather personal one, I want to know how to address you. Saber you were known as male in history though you seem to be a female. How should I address you? I'm only asking this because I don't want to disrespect you." Leon said as Saber nodded she seemed a bit annoyed by the comment but she wasn't too quick to anger.

"I'm a 'female' but I was never raised, nor brought up as one. However it would be wrong to treat me like a guy. Just call, and treat me like you would any other knight master. Just don't call me a woman, or Clarent will have a new sheathe in your guts got it?" Saber told Leon firmly as he nodded. "Alright understood. I'm sorry I'm sure your excited to get on with the war...but I'm tired, and I'd like to rest if that is fine with you." Leon told Saber who looked at him, and sighed. "Alright fair enough...I'll keep watch for the night. Sleep well master but be ready to fight when you wake up." Saber said to Leon as Leon nodded Saber vanished into mist. Now alone, all but mentally, Leon decided it would be best to go to sleep now.

---

With nary but a whisper, the witching hour had set upon Loch Ness. The full moon hanging high in the sky illuminated the waters of the loch with an almost supernatural light, its pure and beautiful glow acting like a portal into the heavens. That light had been known to both bless and curse in equal measures, and although its true significance was different in every culture, the importance of a full moon had never been lost on any human who had ever stopped and stared at the night sky. This was a magical time. Midnight, beneath a full moon.

When the Servant designated Ruler arrived, it was with surprisingly little fanfare. There was no light, no sound, no big "whoosh!" that would have disturbed the tranquility of the night. If he did anything besides simply appear out of thin air, sword in hand, no one was around to see it. The Grail, evidently, had decided to dispatch with the fanciful niceties for the one Servant for whom no one would be waiting around for. Presumably operating under the same assumptions as the old saying, "if a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it..."

The somber, elegant man clad head to toe in bronze armor had the look of a knight about him, an unusual attribute for the class to which was tasked the order of "keeping the peace". Indeed this man's appearance was rather intimidating and draconic, far from anyone's ideal image of a holy man or a knight in shining armor. However, despite this something about him just seemed... silly.

Looking around absentmindedly, as if searching for a horse he had not been summoned with, the man's overall appearance was somewhat comically contrasted with his current attitude, which was apparent confusion and an utter lack of urgency. He looked for all the world like a Renaissance Festival cosplayer who'd gotten drunk and forgotten who and where he was.

"No one's here," he said quietly. "Was the Grail... wrong? Hmmm..."

The poorly-dressed knight pondered this plainly, wondering aloud to himself with suspicious hmmming and hawwwing. He scratched his beard, then scratched his head. Finally, he grew frustrated and tired of it all. Waiting it out had evidently not caused the universe to correct itself.

"Well, it looks as though I'll be walking," he said finally, sighing and pining for his trusty steed. "The will of the Lord is not for me to question. Though I fail to see what point there was in summoning me to such an abandoned place as-"

The man's three-clawed boot stepped in something wet, squelching into the peaty soil with sticky unpleasantness. He looked down.

It was blood.

At that moment, Ruler caught a jarring glimpse of the past granted to him by the Lord. A Revelation, if you will. It showed an utterly one-sided battle between magi and Servants, and... no. No it couldn't be. Children? They were slaughtering children?

Ruler felt a righteous, glowing anger swell up inside him, a pain that burned in his throat until he fought it down with all the mental strength he could muster. Children... they had slaughtered children... Had. The battle was over. There was no way for him to protect them now, no matter how desperately he longed to. He could only see to his duty, and hope that he alone would be enough to deter anyone else from shedding the blood of the innocent.

Carefully, the knight Ruler raised his foot, and looked around. Bloodstains were scattered about the castle grounds like landmines, or the leftovers thereof. Some had been dragged through the grass, others had clearly been left lying long enough to bleed out in an ever-expanding puddle. They shone in the moonlight, a horrible, beautiful reflection. Whatever had happened, there was enough blood there to be from fifty people, at least. Though there were no bodies...

What had transpired here on the eve of the summoning? What great atrocity had marred the opening ceremony of the Holy Grail War? And how many... how many of these had been...

He did his best to swallow his strong emotions. Now was not the time to cry. Mourning the lives of these children could come later. For now, he had to abide by the wishes of the Holy Vessel, and surrender all evidence of this battle to the fires of Hell from whence such bloodshed had justly originated.

Touching the tips of his middle and index fingers to his sword, he whispered, Interfectum Dracones, and lit a spark across the flat of the blade. Immediately it took on a draconic aspect and was set ablaze, a flaming sword with which he could destroy all evil in the world. With a single slash, he scoured the castle grounds, releasing a deluge of flame which incinerated all traces of organic matter leftover from the battle. The castle walls baked and became brittle, and the dew that clung to the wet grass evaporated along with every drop of blood spilled that night.

The trees crackled and burned. It was gone now. All of it. None would know the truth of what had happened here, and the destruction of Castle Urquhart could be attributed to the fire which had cleansed this place of its sins. Others could now be spared from having to know of the terrible things which had transpired tonight. Ruler sheathed his sword, and strode calmly away from the battlefield. A fire as bright as the one behind him burned inside his heart.

Whatever strange things had happened here, whatever horrors he had yet to face in the days to come, he could bear it all gladly with the Lord as his guide. And with His help, he would shepherd the lost and the weak into the arms of Heaven, and bring what modicum of peace he could to this wretched Holy Grail War. His honor was his shield. For he was St. George the Dragonslayer, and no evil could know rest beneath his blade, nor good the sting of death behind his shield. He was an instrument of His divine will, sent to this Earth to love and to protect his fellow man.

And by God, he had work to do.

The next morning Leon had been forced to wake up earlier then he would've liked much to his annoyance but realized it must've been important because his uncle was deathly sober, and was rather angry looking. He told Leon that he needed to follow him into the back of the inn, and that he was not to argue. Saber could come if she desired but what Leon had in store was due directly to him. No any of his friends, and not anyone else. A lesson had to be learned Collins had told him, and one that would be ingrained into him by the end of the day. Saber had appeared next to Leon not soon after he had woken up and had been told she had already been made aware of what was going on before vanishing back into mist in order to not rouse suspicion on why a knight was walking around. Collins took Leon into the backyard that evening as dawn was just about to break, and the grass was still wet on the ground with dew. Collins introduced Leon to two of his men, Harry, and Bill whom would be assisting Leon in his lesson.

Even as pain flared up Leon's body as he remembered the sequence of events that had led him to what he was feeling now he could still remember the words Collins had told him:

"You see Leon the world ain't fair. It's full of trash, and refuse. Good people are scum, and the bad people are even worse. You already get the jest of how I feel about you summoning Saber. You just entered into a whole new world of fucking pain. And I ain't gonna tell your grandpa I let you fuck up, and die because you got in over your head. Normally if you had any other last name than what you do I wouldn't be out here preaching to you. But you do Leon. You show up at my door, you break into my study, and you do something that just brings a whole lot of shit around my head." Collins had told him clearly, and calmly but with an underlying anger that clouded his eyes somewhat. Leon had saw his uncle mad only a few times in his life, and that only meant one thing: He was serious. "So I'm gonna show you, or rather force you, to get some new concepts into that undeveloped head of yours. You're not a child anymore. You're not a weak little baby who needs to be sheltered. You stopped being one when you chose to rebel against authority. I respect that but not the methods. So Billy here, and Harry are going to show you what it means to be a man. Or rather what it means to be a man in a warzone." Collins had told him. Leon knew what that meant it meant some training was in order. He had taken off his shirt and put it over the tree in the backyard only to get sucker punched by Harry who was unsympathetic to his cause.

What had followed was a fight, or rather a brawl, on the part of Harry, and Billy teaming up on the younger Leon. 'A lesson to be learnt' meant that pain had to be instilled didn't it? Nothing ever came without pain especially in war. For Leon's part he was a fair fighter but he was by, and far outclassed by the older stronger men. Collins had forbid the use of magic in this. This was going to be done 'the Irish way' no pain no game. Leon timed his punches well but the older men could either take them in stride, or block them easy. In return Leon got jabbed, and kicked into the ground. He could feel Saber watching him struggle against these two. It made him feel a bit ashamed of his own performance after last night promising to be her partner. But Leon refused to cry out in pain, or keel over and beg to stop. The fight lasted awhile. Longer than Leon would've wanted. Harry was a great boxer, and Billy was a tougher man than Leon could believe stronger. He felt the bruises form on his body as he took kicks, and punches repeatedly. "Master you got to be more aggressive! Fight smarter, and harder not with brute force!" Saber had mentally scolded him in the middle of the fight he felt he anger at watching her master get trashed. And Leon did try to respond in kind. He fought harder, and fought harder but for every punch there was a kick, and for every landed blow there was someone already there to respond in kind.

Without magic Leon was little better than a punching bag who could last a bit longer than the average guy. He felt how useless he was in the moments where he was thrown to the ground, and or punched down only to be kicked while he was down. It was for all intents, and purposes a beatdown. Leon didn't want to look bad but he knew he did. He refused to simply give up. To simply let the pain go through him. Even now as he felt exhaustion, pain, and a numb feeling with the mixture of the coppery tasting blood in his mouth he wouldn't just give in. He always got back up, he refused to simply give in like he did last night not in front of Collins. Doing that would be tantamount to suicide in Leon's eyes. Who's worse to piss off than the person who was trying to teach you something? Pain was a good teacher though. Leon learned a bit faster than some in the situation he did adjust his moves to Harry, and Billy but they simply were too experienced in this field to match him.

Saber had appeared in her plain outfit by the time the sun actually got around. She had gotten tired of floating around as a ghost. Watching her master get beat down pissed her off. Not only was she not supposed to help but it also showed he had issues with his physical talents. At least he could take a beating which was something Mordred had not expected. She sat cross legged on the ground watching idly waiting. She stared at the scene. Three shirtless men rough housing in the middle of the dirt trying to teach a 'lesson'. It reminded her of her days training with Lancelot, and Agravain. She tolerated the fighting because it had a reason, and she hoped it was a good one though. She wasn't entirely sure what was the lesson behind this wanton training session.

Eventually after awhile Leon was left kneeling on the ground after Collins called off his boys. Harry, and Billy for their part told Leon they had no issue with Leon merely following the boss's orders. "...So you see Leon life ain't fair. In war it's even worse. People have no qualms with honor, or morality. To win this war you got to drop whatever morality you got. Your daddy, asshole that he may be, would agree with me I think. You don't let your enemies get back up. You beat them down, and beat them down never let up. Once they got no more in them you finish them." Collins told Leon as he nodded the fight had made that abundantly clear. His whole body was sore, and bruised. He felt like someone had just put him through a wood chipper. "Maybe...but there's always room for a mercy...just as lo-" Leon started as Collins bluntly interrupted him. "No FUCK that! Fuck that, and it's mama! You wanna be the man Leon? To be the man you got to beat that man! And to be the man you gotta be the best. And you ain't the man right now bucko!" Collins shouted at him as he walked over to Leon, and offered him a hand. Unthinking Leon accepted it only to have his feet kicked out from underneath him, and then was promptly twisted on his side. Collins's boots kept him on the ground, and his knee was driven into Leon's back and he felt the cold touch of a gun muzzle on the back of his head. "If you can take it you can make it. Sometimes you gotta compromise your morality. Hurt people you don't want to hurt in order to win." Collins told Leon as he laid on the ground breathing heavily as he face was pushed into the mud.

"What a load of crap! You should do what you believe is right for yourself! But you should never hurt others who don't belong in the fight. Unnecessary violence only leads to corruption, and death! I would never hurt an innocent person if I could help it! Even at my rebellion I didn't force the citizens to do anything. It was all of us against my father!" Saber shouted at Collins. She had moved the moment Collins had pulled out his gun. Clarent was pushed against Collin's neck but he only stood there chuckling.

"Maybe...but good guys never have a happy ending? How many heroes actually got off free? No one likes a hero who didn't get fucked in the end. But that brings me too my second point." Collins boldly stated as he pulled his gun off Leon's head, and back into it's holster. "You ain't in this alone. Didn't expect the saber to be...this but she's here for you Leon. You gotta rely on your mates just as much as they rely on you. War ain't usually won by one individual. It's a group effort. That being said...it's always good to watch your friends just as much as you watch your enemies." Collins got up off of Leon and then Leon started to get back up only to be kicked one more time by Collins. Saber's frustration erupted and she punched him return hard enough to send him back into the tree but Harry, and Billy managed to catch their boss who gripped his stomach and coughed heavily. "But never let your guard down. Not with anyone." Collins managed to get out between coughs. "I'll let that go...went a bit far...but it served its point...I hope..." Collins growled as Leon managed to push himself up.

He wasn't wrong...but he wasn't right either. Leon would win this war...without turning into a monster. He had to....he had to prove he was better than those he was fighting against! He wouldn't lose his morals, and become a cold monster. But he would need to act more coldly in order to win. "Mordred..." Leon managed to get out as Saber looked over to him and sighed. "Yeah what is it? You alright?" Saber responded as she looked over him he looked pretty bad but nothing some medicine won't fix. She'd seen far worse than a stupid mage who got his shit kicked in.

"I promise I won't be in the way...I won't weigh you down. But I won't compromise myself. I won't falter in my beliefs. But I won't lose this war. If we're together we can win i'm sure of it. I can take it. I will make it. Together." Leon smiled at Saber with a painful chuckle as she rolled her eyes, and wrapped his arm around her neck. "Good my master shouldn't compromise in their beliefs...but let's go you patched up, and then let's eat. I'm hungry, and you look like garbage. You better pay him back though." Saber said as she watched Collins, and his boys walk back towards the Inn. "Of course...I hate losing just as much as you..." Leon said as suddenly Collins called out, "Oh, and Saber I think I got something for you too. Those may look normal for you but they don't for us. Just see me when you got a chance." Collins said pointing at her clothes. Saber grew a bit red and considered telling him to screw himself but instead grumbled a fine but lugging her master back into the inn but not before having him grab his shirt.

---

“Morning person” was not a descriptor one might use to describe Albert Prelati. “Narcoleptic” might have been more appropriate tag, or perhaps “sleeps like a cat”, but Albert’s sleep pattern was never quite so consistent. It usually consisted of long bouts of uninterrupted activity and concentration followed by apocalyptic crashes into prolonged unconsciousness, much like a man with access to far too much cocaine, so for now we’ll call him a “burnout”. Adrenaline and not curiosity was the drug that had kept him going ever since the plan to foil Ayondale’s Grail War had begun, so sleep for him began shortly after Saber’s somewhat unexpected summoning, and ended... well, it hadn’t ended yet, anyway.

Albert awoke in a fugue, mired in that ethereal state between dreaming and wakefulness that had long-plagued those like himself. The brave men and women for whom sleep was more of a suggestion rather than a rule. When he got out of bed, he wasn’t even really paying attention to what he was doing. To his sleeping, half-dead mind, it was just what you did.

Concepts like “morning” or “awake” had no meaning to something when it was “just what you did”, so he got up and did it, blissfully unaware of the time or even the reason for the movement of his own body. He was a ghost who had once haunted the grimy room he’d slept in, and who was now moving on to the next life, blissfully insubstantial. A walking, talking dead man. A somnambulist.

He headed into the bathroom to relieve himself, and commence the set of vague, pre-programmed actions that were “just what you did”. Brushing his teeth and slipping into his new clothes, not bothering to comb over his messy, bedraggled black hair, Albert postponed any troublesome thoughts of things like calling Assassin (who was that again?) and decided he was going to go eat something, and then maybe probably go back to bed. Yeah, that sounded nice.

Five minutes later, he was saddled up in front of a cup of coffee, black, and a nondescript plate of buttered toast. Shoddy service to be sure, but he wasn’t in any state of mind to complain. Not when he could barely keep his eyes half-open. He picked up the toast and nibbled it, much the way a rabbit would, leaving the coffee to simply aerate his breakfast like an improv aromatic. It was simple, plain, and altogether not exciting, which was just fine by him until he could wake up properly. Too bad it also ended the moment he caught sight of the television above the bar.

The old, bulky monitor was showing the early morning news. Their top story? An overnight fire that had destroyed the remains of Urquhart Castle.

Albert stopped chewing, his brain clawing for the surface, a distant scream welling up inside him like an ocean swell. Images were splayed across the screen like an autopsy, dissecting the burnt and tortured remains of the historical site. The scent of the coffee went from black to acrid and burnt beneath his nose, and suddenly Albert was back there again, wide awake, running and crying and trying not to vomit while his comrades screamed and died around him.

Panic overwhelmed him. He was awake now, and alert. Far, far too alert. Heart thumping in his chest, he looked around for Ayondale or other signs of the enemy before his brain finally told him it was alright, that it had just played a trick on him. It wasn’t a funny one.

Suddenly queasy and capable of remembering everything that had happened, Albert looked at his continental breakfast with distaste. He... wasn’t very hungry anymore.

Eat it, he thought. You’ll need it for later.

Twisting his eyes shut, he made like a dog and tucked in, finishing the food as quickly as he could. Gasping and sighing, he looked up at the ceiling, and wondered. What the hell was he doing here? What were any of them still doing here?

Albert looked around for the other Masters. Were they awake yet?

The summoning of Saber by Leon was the perfect excuse Olympia needed to head to be, she found, purposefully ignoring any evening meetings to head to her room. A certain amount of shame had dawned on her as she entered the less than luxurious room, as her mind replayed the past evening, and days events. To think she had almost been drawn in to drinking the night away with Rider was unfathomable, but in that vein she would have to thank Caster as quickly as possible. Her tired mind had left her somewhat impolite, and needless to say the sequence of the day had done little to sweeten her mood, but in some ways she found herself in disbelief that she could so easily forget the manners her parents had taught her.

But even with those thoughts in mind, the moment her head reached the pillow of her bed any doubts and worries were wiped clean from the room. Her body simply extinguished itself upon contact, relieving itself of the stresses and emotions of prior events, letting its owner drift softly, deeply, and soundly into rest. She hadn't left Caster with any orders, but being her Servant she made the assumption he'd do his utmost to protect her, even if she had in some ways embarrassed him with her behaviour in the tavern. She needed to be strong. The strongest of the Masters didn't cry.

The next moment, Olympia shot from her bead in a terrible fit, sweating profusely. Her figure was bolt upright in the room, and though she took comfort in the scenery, her mind did not let up for a second. Her eyes shone a deep mix of blue and green as she surveyed the room, taking in the dim light that surrounded her. Her hand reached to her head, and her fingers ran through her hair. It was morning. Though pinpricks of light penetrated the room, she still took a second to make out the silhouettes of objects in the dark.

"Caster..." she whispered in her head, sending a telepathic message to her Servant. While it was true she felt closer to the other Masters than the Servants, Olympia felt an odd bond with Caster. Whether it was due to her being his Master, or some other undefined reason, she was unaware, but she wanted someone to talk to, and there was no guarantee the others would be awake. If anything, she just wanted something of an unbiased opinion.

Images pervaded into her head from the night prior. Her nightmare had been fraught with agony, but less so than the events that had actually transpired. But even still, she felt more terror in any dream. An endless expanse of night, without friends nor Servants, and the masked face of her once and always fear beckoning her into terror. She wanted to scream, but couldn't; wanted to cry, but wouldn't; wanted to fight, and why shouldn't she? That question had stuck with her after waking up. This was as much everyone's fight as a group as it was their own personal war vendetta. No matter the wrongs, Olympia didn't want to fight. A battlefield was no place for children, but in the fight between Magus it was far from a place for one without skill.

"Caster..." she asked the silence, trusting him to be there, "I know I cant... but... should I leave..? I feel lost here..." there was no conviction in her words, merely empty questioning. Despite the nights rest she was tired, and she could feel it stemmed from doubt and fear. The only person she could really trust on telling her the God honest truth was Daedalus... Everyone else had their biases. Biases Olympia didn't want nor need.