Set. Set. Set.

Repeat for each invocation.

Continually running forwards, continually standing still.

Such trivial things as extrinsic evils. Such trivial things as a magic king, as a world's foundation, as a god-eater.

No, even in a world where they do not emerge, we will not change.

A boy sits alone, imprisoned by his people. On his skin is carved all blasphemies we have ever once uttered.

Continually running forwards, continually standing still.

In order to make something beautiful, we must deride the beauty of others. For what purpose was something that fed itself on that lamentation born? We will surely destroy ourselves through it regardless. Such trivial things as a dog of the planet, it can't be necessary.

It is even for this reason that our stars are made.

A hero is someone who can overturn fate.

A hero is someone who can save a life that was meant to perish.

So then, so then...

Faster. Move faster. Running forwards, never stopping, never thinking, never breathing, because the second your mind whirs to life and you see that you haven't moved an inch, the second you see that phantasmic nothing stretching out before you, is the second you cease to be you.

Gather stars. Beautiful stars. Terrible stars. Gather them under the banner that we created in the name of a thing we can never escape, and pray.

Join hands with the world. As meaningless death runs rampant through this world of ours, pray that we might one day move beyond.

Pray that we may truly run forwards.

Pray that we may shatter the wheel that binds us.

Pray that we may never wage another war.

---

D1 - P1

---

The young officer stopped midstep, the burn on the back of his hand taking him away from his idle thoughts of logistics. They were, of course, the most minor form of logistics, concerned with more social things rather than warfare. He intended to purchase some food from a market while it was still morning fresh, a humble gift to the members of the 'team' he now found himself apart of. This, of course, included his Servant. They did not need to eat, but it did not mean they could not. He would be a poor host if he did not at least offer.

Those thoughts would have to wait, though.

It did not take a magus to put together what the burn meant, as he approached the church. Although young, he had partaken in the many battlefields spreading across Eastern Hubei in his short time as a soldier, and fought his fair share of unnatural foe. One might even say that was his very purpose in life. As such, with that experience, he dared not take another step forward.

Saizou took a pace back.

The burning halted. That was all he needed to know. He had likely been a blip on the radar of the other party. The officer was alone, where the potential adversary could have been numerous. While the Church was meant to be neutral ground, such things had been violated in the past. No, he would not go into that situation alone.

Saizou reached out to his Servant.

He disliked the term Servant. The intent of it was clear to him, but the actual use of the word was, nonetheless, distasteful based on the relationship between the Master and the Servant. While the Master was intended to be the party with the 'power', this was quite clearly not the case. Servants were only reliant on their Master for as long as they required a consistent source of power.

In every other respect, the Servant was the powerful one. Command Seals had their worth, yes, but Saizou knew a thing or to about moving quickly, and if his understanding of Servants was correct, it was safe to say they were even faster than him.

One could not say how successful an undesirable command would be if the aforementioned Servant is within proximity of the one issuing the command.

Rather than take the approach of a summoner and their familiar, he would instead approach their relationship as partners. He had as much made it clear upon summoning her.

Through their connection, he tried to make a few ideas known; Danger, concern, and something akin to 'I would really appreciate a hand, if you're not busy'.

To the point and honest, and without a lick of pride. Saizou was no magus, he would be candid with those around him, nor was he so arrogant to think that his pride meant anything before the mission. If that meant calling on his Servant at the first sign of a possible scuffle? Boy howdy you could bet he was going to do that. While Saizou could easily leave the matter to the Overseer, he would not take risks.

An opportunity to gather information had presented itself to him, and he would take it. Rather than charging at the threat head first, he'd remove himself from the situation - if only momentarily - until his own Servant arrived.

The uniformed lad turned on his heel, and made some more space between him and the Church, bringing a hand up to tilt the visor of his hat down somewhat. He blended in perfectly with the city, a simple officer on patrol through the quieter parts of town.

Secure the grail. Secure the wish. The mission started here.

---

How strange. Not much time had passed since she had been brought into this world once more. Her presence in this war was an unnatural occurence, though that could be said for a large part of this ritual. Nonetheless, her spirit had recieved the invitation, and accepted her place amongst the heroes whom undoubtably sought out the wish of the Holy Grail for a noble cause. The thought alone was a source of amusement. After all, if she could be brought here, then there was a chance that she could meet 'Herself' as well. Ah, how exciting.

Still, even with the knowledge both possessed and bestowed upon her when having manifested wasn't sufficient to know all the details of the conducts within this ritual. It seems like an irregularity had already occured, though merely a formal one. Alliances, in a war where there could be only but a single winner. She had seen her own fair share of foolishness from both the brave and the thoughtful, but the false trust that humans built towards one and other was an unpredictable factor for even the most omnipotent of beings. Of course, she herself possessed no such thing anymore. She envied whoever it was that was given the oppritunity to merely witness the events that would transpire from these circumstances.

The late sunrise in the distance provided a warm spectacle over the mostly abandoned park. Her knowledge of the location was sufficient to allow for scouting. Being in the unique position of Assassin, she was gifted with the certainty that nobody else was. She could hide in broad daylight if so necessary, and nobody would know until it was too late. Being a lady led by her own whims, she had briefly considered outright disobeying orders to take her time roaming the town. However, being the one who sabotages wasn't her duty. No, she knew fully well that it was an inevitable fate for all who pursued something endlessly. Yet she still wanted to see it for herself.

Her Master had been a peculiar one upon their first meeting. Virtuous. That was her first impression of him. It may be seen as an ideal quality for those aspiring to greatness to have, but it could just as easily strike them back with the weight they lay upon it. Upon seeing her, he had not submitted, nor did he command her. He sought after mutual respect, or something along those lines. Perhaps that is what's considered 'chivalrous' in this age. It was unfortunate. Had he been granted with any other Servant during this war, that may have been the correct attitude to take, but this Servant could not view her Master equally. He was far beneath her, an endearing inhabitant in the plane that had once not belonged to them. But, that fact would never be stated. Stheno was a Goddess, one who would only show the endearing qualities of a 'woman' to serve as an ideal for men. She would view him with grace and respect, but even that would be a lie. It was just natural, right?

The silent stroll through the park was halted with the audiable connection established in her mind. She let out a light laugh from her lips, covering her mouth even when nobody could see her. 'Very well, try not to get attacked before I get there.' Ah, who could it be? She begun moving at an amazing speed, heading towards the outskirts of the Church where her Master was located. She could feel the wind blowing in her face, making the two tails on her head flutter. For a full second, she closed her eyes to take a deep breath. No matter the nature of this ritual, 'Holy Grail' was indeed a magnificent object if it allowed for her to experience this. Silent and swift, she moved across the land in a way that she could never have during the time of her actual existance.

Perhaps this would be more interesting than she had believed.

The sun is rising. It's the first time she'll have felt it on her face like this in five-hundred years——though. It isn't genuine, is it? The sensation of the wind on her skin, the first warm rays light splashing the wall and warming the stone she's sitting on, the... ... ...

... well. It doesn't matter. It's close enough.

Lancer^(Ruler) pulls down on the front of her red scarf, breathes in, breathes out and pulls her dangling legs up onto the crest of the temple's gate so that she can stand. In her left hand is a spear, seemingly gold from its base to its tip. There is an absence of any sort of flare between its shaft and its edge——in terms of design, it's a simple weapon. It is the most fitting kind of weapon that could have been made for a woman who has never held an outstanding spear in her life. The shallow carvings present all over give it the appearance of being covered in leaves. A subtle aesthetic. There's a red cloth tied around it at the middle, the same color as her scarf.

She spins it once, testing its weight for the dozenth time as it pivots over her fingers and lands against her palm with a smack. She grips it, lets it rest with its tip pointed downward and looks all around herself. The temple is quiet aside from chirping birds waking from their rest to accompany the break of day. It's pleasant and, as well, is the ideal morning thus far that they'd set out for.

No disturbances.

No looming presence. As far as she can tell at least. She rolls her shoulders and turns away from the lengthy ascent of stairs that lead up to the temple's gates and hops forward, falling through the air for a brief moment and landing with her feet in the courtyard. Simply standing here and gazing out over the place is enough to justify the thought that this is a "place worth seizing." Even if the land underneath of her feet wasn't of such ideal quality for a mage's work——or a Caster's——it's a good position to hold solely on the merit of the terrain. A single entrance with the advantage of high ground for whoever is defending is incredibly convenient.

She honestly can't believe it's being practically given to her and her allies. She raises her free hand to brush a couple locks of black-and-white hair out of her face, then turns and takes the brief few strides to the gate. There, she stabs her spear into the ground, folds her arms and leans against its interior to settle in. She'll still be here for a while, so she might as well get comfortable.

D1 - P1

---

“Do not get too comfortable if you are not going to stay alert. Not that I am saying you would slip up like that. I am just reminding you, as a precaution.”

Speaking from the spot she had settled into, the front of the temple itself where she was leaning against the wood, she spoke up to let her voice carry over to where her servant was. Her expression spoke of caution while looking at the ground, but her tone gave the feeling of assurance in the fact she herself was preparing. It was an odd combination to be sure.

And despite her cautionary message, she seemed to be getting a bit comfortable herself. Though she was also setting up a bounded field, having already figured out how she wanted to do so. It was a very basic one, for detecting when those enter it and to control the area’s mana. While she would like to be more careful about it, it was the fact the mountain was an amazing location that kept her from thinking they needed more defenses.

“I apologize if that came off as rude as well. I would like to not offend you by assuming you need warnings or would let your guard slip. Or would you say I can place such confidence in your skills it would not matter if we let our guard down?”

Looking up at Lancer^(Ruler), Uva pushed the hair that was over going her shoulder to the front back behind her. Her smile beamed, as she was still elated by the fact that not only did her summoning succeed, but she had managed to get away with obtaining a Servant outside the norms. Thus, victory shouldn’t be too far away, so long as the servant would work with her.

“… Ah if I am talking too much, I can stop as well. I would not like to distract you. Nor would I want to annoy you. I simply thought it would be a good idea to converse with you as we shall be working together for the coming weeks. A good partnership would be further strengthened by us sharing our thoughts and talking after all. But if that is not to your preference, I can give up on it.”

Smile dropping a bit, Uva held up her arms without halting her work, as to back up her claim physically as well, waving them in front of her. A gesture she was sure meant that it wasn’t that big a deal. She was still smiling though, as her thoughts didn’t seem to reflect in those odd red eyes. Just an odd emptiness, as she was holding things in to make sure Lancer^(Ruler) didn’t get upset at her. Especially since she had been speaking without actually waiting for an answer.

She doesn't interrupt her. In the silence, her calm expression cracks open along the wry upturn of the corner of her lips. Lancer removes her right arm from across her chest and turns the underside of her forearm up, idly flexing her fingers and the muscles of her wrist. She wonders if there's such a thing as stiffness for what she is, in this day and age. Will she never hear the sound of her knuckles cracking again? Well. Maybe in a day or two.

"Uva von Einzbern."

There is a brief pause and she presses her risen hand's thumb and forefinger together. A bit of rubbing, as if she's testing something between the pads of her digits. Or is she just... looking at her nails? It doesn't matter to her, but it's interesting to look over herself. These aren't her decorated clothes. The symbols of an admiral aren't at the cuffs of her wrists. She's speaking aloud and her tone is lighthearted. "... Relax. You have your Servant's unconditional loyalty." A bit of a formal statement to assuage her seeming concerns, before her manner of speech becomes a bit more casual. She snickers.

"I actually like how it rolls off the tongue——your name, I mean." She folds her arms again and leans her head back against the temple's gate. She's fine standing where she is. Whatever her Master believes a Servant on guard should act like, she's sure she'll realize that it's entirely unnecessary. Especially in their situation.

She's seen all manners of attempts on her life. She cants her head in the woman's direction and looks over toward her. "I'm sorry. Scribes always worked while things were quiet. I thought it'd be the same for the kind of work you're doing."

Morning of August 27th, 1939. Holy Church of Fuyuki City.

---

"Pardon?"

The woman is not dressed as if she were attending church. And, of course, she ought not be - there isn't likely to be a service in this church. Not while it serves as the home base of the Holy Church's Overseer, and a shelter for defeated masters, during the Holy Grail War. Instead, she's dressed somewhat casually. Loosefitting clothes. The Overseer doesn't even stop sweeping, shifting dust and dirt accumulated from disuse into a small wooden tray. Just to finish with what she has in front of her, and bring her eyes up to the Nazi and his Servant. Already? The war has just started, and already someone's making a play to take the Church?

She sighs, and shakes her head. Mumbling something. A prayer? A curse? The Nazi might not be able to tell, but the Archer could surely hear her plain as day. A quiet murmur in Latin. Absolutely a prayer. "Might I suggest you... not do that. I am here, from the Holy Church, to assure the war goes on in a way befitting you."

That's a snipe, by the way.

"You gain close to nothing by driving me away from here, excepting a location that I'm not sure you can actually hold or maintain. Especially once the Japanese hear that the only thing keeping the war on rails has been driven away. They can, and will, attack with impunity, and when you, or one of your companions, lose a Servant, there will be no where to go. They will hunt you like dogs, chase you down, and tear you apart. If I may be even more bold, Herr, this is a critical mistake. I really don't want either of us to have to deal with this kind of thing. Believe me. It only ends in more bloodshed." But what does a Nazi care about murder?

Her tone changes, though, and she laughs, leaning on a pew. As if she wasn't really all that intimidated in the first place. She is - the Servant could kill her before she could move, surely - but, that doesn't mean she has to show it. When she speaks again, it's much lighter. "But, well, with all that said, if you insist, I'll go. I'd prefer to take a bag, but I'm not exactly in a strong place to negotiate. So! I'll be out of town by midnight. Best of luck!" And, just like that, the Overseer resigns.

---

The morning dew dripped idly on the few blades of grass that bothered collecting them. In the distance, buildings littered the borders of the fields - But only sparsely, as if the city was afraid of sprawling over the remaining flatlands between itself and the the forested coastline of Fuyuki. Nothing would dare disturb the beautiful idyll of this morning heaven.

That is, until the creaking roar of an engine arose near one of the earthen paths betwixt the fields of wheat. Like throat-cancer on wheels, a tidy little black car rolled along with a lofty demeanor and an ungodly racket that held no respect for the silence and bird-song of the morn. Perhaps the reason why the vehicle was so cheerfully chugging away on its journey is that it had no master - According to the lacking markings upon its hull, at least. The light-weight off-road car didn't even sport a license plate. What it did have was a healthy helping of equipment on the sides and back, as if it was meant to venture onto more treacherous terrain than a pleasant asian countryside. At its wheel sat a person deep in thought, his blue eyes fixated on the road until he eventually glanced aside. His melancholic visage was that of a man who seldom left his mind in silence. Longing thoughts raced in the dark head of Emmerich - His beloved lager, his dear family, his sweet nation.

There was nothing else to ponder on, however, once the loud ride came to a coughing halt on a deserted roadside. Rising from the driver seat, one could finally glance at the officer's modest garments - A simple white shirt, tucked in and its sleeves rolled up haphazardly to the middle of the lanky man's elbows. A field-gray pair of trousers, worn but well taken care of, all kept up by brown leather galluses. A pair of black high-shafted boots, proudly polished this morning no doubt. By all accounts, there was nothing necessarily identifiable on the officer's person. He did not bother to leave the vehicle, however. Procuring a pair of binoculars, Emmerich lazily lit a cigarette and proceeded with spying the horizon. Like a stork, he held still and straight-backed until he turned from the city to the harbor and back. Every odd fifteen minutes, he made a longing glance at the distant forests beyond Shinto in hopes of being able to make out something. He himself was aware of the hopelessness of this endeavor due to the mere distance between him and the home of worship, but the thoughts of his comrade in peril kept urging the officer to keep a hawkish watch over the direction where he presumed the church to be.

After hours of nothing, the lanky figure finally twitched to life again. As if sentience flowed back into his limbs once more, he let the binoculars hang from his neck and opened the driver-side door to exit the vehicle. With steadfast steps, the officer approach the trunk of the car only to open it with a fierce tug and reveal a robust device within - The thing looked nondescript for all intents and purposes, a mess of toggles, meters, counters and rotary selectors. Minutes of tinkering and the addition of an antennae later, Emmerich crouched down as he held a simple headset against his left ear. The officer's voice creaked to life.

---

Uva and 'Lancer' had chosen to stand at the gate as sentries. That gate was the integral, singular point of entry possible. And below the soil, wriggling through the earth, Matou Youzai's familiars spread. Being atop one of the key leylines, the energy available to propagate was enormous. One of the worms bit into into the roots of a tree nearby to Uva and Lancer. Transmitting vibration through the rustling branches and leaves, it acted akin to a two-way speaker, though for the moment Youzai did not disturb the Einzbern Master and Servant.

More worms spread in the dirt, to act as Youzai's eyes across the mountain. This was simple: multiply into a network across the mountain. Each worm would then act as a thread in a greater web of observation. As the war went on, he would be casting a larger and larger net across Fuyuki.

The man himself had already entered the temple proper, climbing its many steps with Caster in spiritual form. His familiars were doing the bulk of the work he had intended, but that wasn't to say he was only focused on that. Several of his worms had remained at the Matou residence proper, to stay in communication with the other members of the family. He'd also brought supplies, including physical necessities, having full intent to stay at the temple as long as necessary to ensure it was fortified sufficiently.

Caster would weave together the existing field of the temple with the leyline, Uva's field, and his familiars, but all the same Youzai was bracing for complaint from his Servant. Nothing seemed to satisfy Caster, but that was fine, since Youzai was similarly restless. Assuming that they had acceptable compatibility was, however, not a mistake he would permit of himself. Something as downright alien as Caster would never be understood by a human, and likewise, humans were of a different world than Caster.

All the same, one emotion between them was indisputably a common ground: Rage. Deep, bitter, hateful rage, wishing the most terrible maledictions upon their enemies for daring to defile their respective works. Youzai's was of a cold, patient hatred that would ruthlessly and efficiently act while biding time until the proper moment arrived. Caster's, by contrast, was a constant fire, burning hot, filling his body with energy and motivation that his will tempered sharp as any of his blades.

While they could respect the other's anger, that did not necessarily mean...

---

One look at the temple had been enough to set Caster off on a rant even while working, beating his hammer against various boulders in aggravation. Starting from the summit and spiraling his way down the mountain, he secured and claimed the leyline by directly hewing the mountain itself to guide it where he wished.

"Contractor! Enunciate in regard of that dwelling. The sanctification perimeter is passable, but that revolting heap of timberscraps! Why?!"

Multiple golden chains gesticulated in agitation as Caster seethed wildly enough to send spittle flying ahead of him. Youzai could only compare it to some kind of enraged squid, but replied mentally, reminding Caster to communicate via their telepathic bond when able. And it made understanding the Caster's bizarre speaking habits a little easier.

Do you want me to explain the entire thing? I assume not. Specify.
START WITH THOSE FLIMSY INGRESS-FLATS A SQUEAKY LITTLE MAID COULD BLOW OUT WITH A SNEEZE!
It, and many other buildings of traditional architecture, are built with this country's earthquakes in mind.
BUNCH OF PISSY LITTLE DEFEATISTS THEN, AREN'T THEY? AND WE'RE SUPPOSED TO GUARD A LOT WHO CAN'T EVEN BOTHER WITH A TRIFLE OF TECTONIC BELLYACHE? JUST BUILD THINGS TO LAST THEN!
The country's metal resources are-
THE MOST PATHETIC PILE OF WORTHLESS TRASH I'VE SEEN SINCE YOUR BASEMENT.
Will you shut up and focus!?
GOOD, YOU HAVE A SPINE, I WAS WORRIED I'D HAVE TO WASTE TIME MAKING YOU ONE.

Speaking of which, Youzai modulated his worms in his nervous system to forcibly subdue his mounting annoyance at Caster's vulgar whining into his head. As a result of renewed clarity, he noticed that actual progress was quite smooth. The only reason Caster had been chatty at all, it seemed, was because he didn't need to focus particularly hard.

Furnace, anvil, bellows... The first priority is Lancer's spear, then you said-
That glassy doll gives me the willies, but yes, her servant needs something better than a broomstick.
The Einzbern homunculus disturbs you?
Even something like a golem has its creator's spirit and ideals etched into it. That doll is grotesquely pure. No thoughts or dreams went into something that perfect. Even a divine automaton has more than just a purpose. The aesthetics and preferences of their progenitors show through. Hair, eyes, skin color. Posture, proportions and ratios, the pitch of voice, all of that is carefully chosen in exacting, equal-to-loving detail. None of that for the doll. Only circumstances.

The wild fluctuations in Caster's demeanor were still jarring. The Servant was so violently temperamental that it was like speaking to a different person for every mood. Still, efficiency was efficiency, in the end, Caster's vitriolic ranting was entirely tolerable given how the fortification and establishment of the workshop was coming. As they progressed down the mountain, it was being fortified with every strike from Caster's hammer. The soil was compacted and piled into earthen walls, exposing the rock underneath. Trees were still-living, but the earth they were rooted in could be shifted, tilting and tightening them together to form palisade segments while presenting a canopy that looked only slightly disturbed.

A trench was carved as they went, the stone and boulders of the mountain shaped into convex obelisks, pointing outwards as their smooth faces began to reflect available light. Within, tiny tunnels for Youzai's worms to navigate and fill opened. Within the trench, intricate carvings so fine they could be mistaken for lace covered every surface.

Youzai glanced down at them, the lens of his cornea flexing slightly to adjust his visual range and zoom in. A very slight grin lit his features when he realized just what letters he was seeing. And as they progressed, more and more of the mountain, and its leylines, were bent to Caster's direction. Soon, it would be sufficient to establish the forge at its peak, and then armament could begin.

“Can it truly be said to be a fair war if the locals have access by default to more leylines? With the second owner owning a leyline, and another taken by the Church that is already half already spoken for. All the rest left to squabble for a park and the temple that watches over the town. Indeed, it seems hardly neutral then for the church representative to hoard one of the leylines to herself, especially if you consider you likely hold no use for it. There is no need for things to become fair through violence."

Brauer offered a smile, faced towards the woman, even as his eyes darted over, taking measure of the dimensions of the church interior. It was clear that he already considered it his to use, that he would not back down. In his eyes he was simply claiming what he should take, without any doubt in his belief that he would attain it.

The German Alchemist extended a hand, clad in silk. His palm stretched out, revealing a Swastika in his palm. “Come, please, take my hand.” -Agree to his request and demands, take in hand fortune. A blessing and a threat in one, a bold insinuation without words. Brauer leaned forward slightly with his palm, eyes focusing in on Arianna Lombardi totally for this moment, with the weight of his intent flowing forward through his hand.

Brauer suddenly paused. The burn of the command seal suddenly struck Brauer who turned away, even as he continued to hold his hand with its offer. He considered the situation, trying to ignore the slight shake of nervousness the notion of an enemy making their appearance planted in his stomach. As one who was hardly a combatant the idea of already encountering a hostile party was worrying, yet to be a magus was to hold a composure and do justice to one’s lineage and abilities. To panic would be a foolish and insulting thing.

Honestly, why was he even here? Ah this was indeed the worst. This sort of thing was a task the Chancellor’s hound was much more suited to this sort of scheme that seemed more like a gang’s shakedown. He was confident in his ability to accomplish the task but... A slight crack in his bearing seemed to form.

‘Archer.’ He addressed his servant, clear and commanding despite the doubt that gnawed at him. The being was his familiar, his weapon in this war. Whether or not they were heroes it did not change their place and purpose. They answered the summoning to be a weapon, to be the blades of magi who spent their days studying and pursuing their projects rather than honing their skills as killers. They would be strong so the magus didn’t have to be. But he admittedly felt exposed, even with a servant whose radiance was as clear to even a bumpkin by his side. The woman who stood before her was of the church and another master was near. Where a master was the servant was surely there. He gave orders to his servant to be prepared for the approach of an enemy servant all the while listening to her surrender.

When his offer was taken he could only nod along to her condemnation. "Murder, perhaps. There are a many who would call it that. I am a magus first and foremost. The actions of the Nazis are something I frankly have no real opinion on. But there are things good, dreams at the end of this road. Call them an extermination, call them a cleaning up. If that is the price, then I do not see it as too terrible. Either way, I would not mind giving you a moment to pack and collect yourself.”

To be honest he’d rather she stayed, ironic with how he set off to oust her. For he most certainly felt a bit unsafe with the enemy lurking by.

The moment she left Brauer contacted the other representatives of the Nazis within Fuyuki, telling them of his success, and of the presence of another master. He considered a battle likely, or at least the need to make the enemy back off from their holding. In particular note was a request to a Frederica Edelfelt for help to secure and consolidate the most important of their holdings.

Well. There was hardly merit to hiding like a rat. Deciding to entrust in the swift arrival of his allies, and his servant. Brauer dropped down onto one of the pews, as though replacing the woman as the one who watched over the church.

The Executor doesn't waste her time with more words for the Magus. There was never a real chance of her actually betraying her Church - her Lord - for the paltry offer of some fascist. Even through her pleasant demeanor, a chill of revulsion rocks through her stomach. For a moment, seeing the swastika tattoo'd on his palm, she thinks she might be sick. She does want to stand there and argue with him, if not for his morals or ethics, than for pure logos. Holding this site means that those who lose and fail might not die. But, in a way, him taking the church from her is a very unselfish act. Instead of having a place where he could be safe, he gives an advantage to his side of the war.

That's what makes it so outlandishly foolish. There's no way that the rest of them could agree to put their lives in danger so directly. It's insane. They're insane. Her mouth opens as he stops, so she lets her words die on her lips. They wouldn't have mattered at all. Anyone who thought that they could tempt a member of the Church with something like that is too delusional for words. And that's perfectly acceptable. He's a heretic, so he's insane as a rule, rather than as an exception. To her, every single one of these people are already fools, and each are damned. It isn't even that he's a Nazi - the Imperial Japanese are certainly no better. It's a war between a pair of monsters, using beasts to wage it. A disgusting affair, and one she's not remiss to distance herself from. After all, there's nothing she can do. Were she to strike, he would die. Of that, she has no doubt. She even has an opening to close to him, and that's a death sentence. But... His Servant. In any other place, at any other time, he would be dead on the ground by now. But not here.

The most she'll push is a light joke. "Well, try not to destroy the altar. It's very rude." And then, she's away. Just for a bit - she's hardly settled in. In a second, she's back with a pair of bags and a shockingly diverse range of weapons. No more words for him. She's out of the church proper, and thus, no longer a formal Overseer. Therefor, she has no formal implication of neutrality. As soon as she conceded the church to the Nazis, she lost her position, and defaulted to another.

She, until further notice, would instead act as an Executor. One with a number of Command Seals enshrined on her arm, with no restrictions or expectations for their use. In some way, they basically just belong to her now, until such time that she has them stripped by some unknown mechanism of the War, uses them, or gives them away. As she's away, and shifting the rifle up over her shoulder, she sighs, and shakes her head. "Now you fucked up."

In all reality, she has no intentions of leaving town. That would be horrifically irresponsible, what with so many powerful heretics making war in the area. Before she leaves the church ground, she stops. There are a lot of really obvious problems. Namely, she needs to hide a lot of weapons. The rifle is simply left behind. It's nothing special. The pistols, the American ones, can go in a bag - not well hidden. If someone looked in that bag, it's obvious. The revolver, and most of the knifes, are hidden on her person. Including the most important one. The one that makes sure she wins against Magus. Once she's adjusted, she leaves the church. Now, she just has to figure out her next step. There wasn't a plan for what she did if she was allowed to just leave the church after an incursion. She has some amount of the local currency, a map, and her wits.

She hummed, gloved fingers tracing the railing by her side, white dress gently swaying with the breeze, looking towards the rising sun from her position at the bridge. There was admittedly not much that she liked about this backwater place she and her sister had journeyed to, but in the end, she guessed the dawn was much the same in every place—and it was always a beautiful sight she could admit to frivolously enjoy. The air was crisp, though not uncomfortable by any means, and the early morning was overall refreshing.

But she couldn’t really stop to just dawdle around, now could she? Alas, her stay in this place would hopefully be kept short and smooth—but for that to occur, she needed to get to work, and so, Janika Edelfelt tore her gaze from the rising sun in order to look at the bridge she and her Servant had set up shop at.

To be certain, she guessed it was more correct to say they had been ‘ordered’ to set up shop there, but she did not particularly like thinking about it that way—and it was far from the only thing that rubbed her the wrong way. Her sister, who had for most of her life stood side by side with Janika was now on a different part of the district, likely securing her own little piece of land. She wasn’t worried for her, not really—Frederica was more than able to deal with most anything that came her way, even in (or perhaps especially because of) her current state, but that did little to diminish the fact that not having her sister by her side in this situation felt just odd.

Though she assumed it was a feeling she would need to grow accustomed to over time. Nothing would last forever, and she knew that better than plenty.

Sighing and banishing such gloomy thoughts from her mind, she simply focused on her task to the point he forgot about other worries. The bridge was not one of the fallen leylines, but as the ‘proper’ path between Shinto and Miyama, it had some value regardless—which is why she and her own Servant had been sent to secure it. Twirling the cane she held in her left hand, glimmering silver catching the sunlight, she scoured the area again—though the lack of feeling from the Command Seals indicated that she was apparently on her own, familiars were a different matter. Nonetheless. . .

“Well, then,” She began, tone even and attempting to keep the air of aristocracy about her without fail, even if there were no others around them. “I suppose we shall begin for now. Saber, please, be a dear and keep your eyes peeled for any possible interruptions, though it seems we’ll be free of those for the time being—which means we should start establishing our territory for now, no?”

It was not a statement she expected a response for, given that their situation and set of goals were plainly obvious, but she was the sort of woman that apparently did not mind small talk, idle as it were, and she would admit to not being sure as to how to initiate the conversation otherwise—even if it made her grow frustrated with herself. Here she was, alongside a hero of antiquity, legend made flesh by the very miracle she and her sister and their collaborators sought to steal and she could not think of any suitable topics?

Truly hopeless.

Regardless, she attempted to not let such things show—instead keeping her placid smile in place, even as she began to walk down the bridge to assess the perimeter of the Bounded Field. Considering the nature of the position, she could not be too careful, but there was a small hint of boredom cracking through her façade, features smoothing into a blasé mask.

The peace, however, was not to last as she received Brauer’s report. Her placid expression grew cold, brow creasing, and her eyes shone with unnatural sharpness. The hand twirling her cane stilled, knuckles perhaps white beneath the gloves, and she took a deep breath.

“Understood,” She called out on her own. “Do call if you need any more backup, but expect us to try and make our way there as soon as we are able.” And that was that. She kept her silence for a second before bringing a hand to her face.

“No plan survives contact, huh?” She muttered, voice muffled. “Argh, how annoying,” Huffing as though it was more a minor setback rather than anything else, she moved to continue her task—but her steps now were quicker, more decisive. The question, then, was ‘for the sake of what?’. “Saber, do you have any input? I could really use some advice right now.” A position, an ally, and her sister. She trusted Frederica to handle herself completely, but the fact remained. . .

Which was more important at this moment?

---

Outside of the black car, Rider stood, for lack of better terms. The man was not particularly fond of staying in Spirit Form—he much preferred having a body to walk around with and enjoy the breaths of fresh air he had been granted for as long as this second chance endured, but he understood that his Master was not particularly the most gifted among magi, and so, he chose to do this as his token favor. It was small, and probably worthless in the end—the man could have just as easily told him to and Sigurd would have obeyed, even if lacking in enthusiasm—but he liked to think these gestures had greater meaning when one did them on their own will.

The fields were mostly empty and quiet, some people here and there carrying out their daily lives, and they made Sigurd wish to grimace just by standing around. The sleepiness permeating the place, bluntly put, did not agree with him. A man of action rather than words, perhaps he could have seen the value of peace and quiet in his older years, but as it was? Frankly, the fact that he took longer than five minutes before starting to bemoan the current situation was no less than a miracle. Shooting a glance his Master’s way and finding the man busy with his toys, he asked the gods to give him patience and resigned himself to watch people pass by, attempting to ignore that gnawing feeling that quickly grew within him.

What wouldn’t he give for an opponent to show up and cross blades against. . .right then.

. . .No? Oh, well. It was worth a shot. He had known there would be moments of respite within the timeframe of the War, but the lack of anything to do with this time drove him restless to no end—truly, idleness was one of his greatest enemies. Had he been allowed, he would have certainly gone to get whatever passed for drink these days and enjoyed himself in that manner, and if he ran into enemies, all the better. There was nothing that said he could not enjoy drinks with anyone he fancied, being enemies just meant they’d have their weapons at each other’s throats once the mugs were finished, but that apparently was no longer the norm.

It sure became a boring world while he was not around.

No people to fight, no drinks and his only possible venue for conversation was busy fiddling with that toy of his, he wondered if this was actually some form of punishment, before deciding that, at the very least, the weather was far too nice, and there was no Regin in sight. He had not particularly minded the dwarf’s plan to kill him—it had been par the course, really, he should have seen it coming even without that thing—but by whatever gods listened, had he almost talked Sigurd’s ear off with the chatter about ‘Fafnir’ and ‘Fafnir’s treasure’ and ‘gold’, repeating the terms so much he was fairly certain they made up more than half of the conversation’s content (if you could even call the dwarf raving about the untold riches and Sigurd answering some rhetorical questions and otherwise nodding along and shrugging noncommittally a conversation)

. . .

“Hey, Master,” Deciding that staying quiet was most likely not the best course of action for his continued sanity, Sigurd spoke up, addressing the man that had summoned him. Their countenances could not be more different, but he hoped he would be able to establish what could, at the very least, be considered a ‘working relationship’. He had little desire to be stuck with a stick in the mud, but a more traditional magus would have probably managed to be even worse, and so far, the man had not offended him in any manner, so that was fine. Maybe the small talk would be just what they needed at this time. “So, do you think any one of our enemies will pass by? Being completely honest, I feel like we should hurry up with the preparations as it is and set up shop as quickly as possible—if you all are so keen on preparing this side as a base of operations, we should also be quick about things and press on the offense.”

Seemingly mulling on the facts, he pondered whether he had overstepped his bounds before deciding he did not care much and continuing.

“Lancer, Assassin, Caster and Berserker—those four and their Masters are still mostly unknown, right? Perhaps I’m rushing too much, but. . .I think we should start attacking as soon as we’re able, and that we should make sure we are able soon, lest they use the time to prepare more traps for us to deal with. We don’t know what tricks they might have up their sleeve, and I won’t say that I wouldn’t like facing someone of worth, but I’d like to think my words are not devoid of sense because of that.”

He would freely admit that he enjoyed battling, perhaps too much, but he was also someone who had lived long enough to admit it, and he would also say that he had learned from that life.

Whether the Master listened or not was another matter—though, really, he just wanted to get some talk out of the man, because the silence would otherwise drive him up a wall.

Sieg Heil Vickoria.

The words resonated in his mind.

Sieg Heil Viktoria.

The powerful call to victory, like a wish taken form. Yes, the chant for victory that was on the lips of the german people was like a demon, a curse that they wished to call into being. They a people who had lost, who fell into despair from the previous war. Victory, oh victory. Victory, the goddess that turned his back away from Germany, victory the goddess that blessed their foes and snatched away fortune. There were many reasons why their enemies have won, there were many reasons why they had lost. It did not matter whether or not it was just at a point, where he went he saw the desire and longing for validation and greatness that the German people were starved from. Dark things, disgusting things, acts that were condemned throughout the world. Their putting down of others, their rise to proclamation greatness and purity.

Ah, indeed, it was such a hotpot of potential for a magus to utilize. The fact that he rose among them, the fact that he joined hands with the society was simply because of the fact that just as his magecraft could advance under them, so too could their agenda.

But it was a strange and bewildering beautiful thing as well. That wish that people prayed for and reached for at the cost of so many others. Many might say that there are other ways, but Brauer only saw what was instead of what could have been. This passion and strife within the nation was fascinating in a way. Their hands are already stained black, then they should be as demons answering the wishes of the people.

But at his core he had another reason to want victory, to pursue victory without thought of failure. At the end of victory laid the path to the end of a dream, the end of the dream of the Herstelles, no, magi. Just as magi dedicated all in the pursuit of their research and the raising of their heir.

This was no mere ritual, no, with the backing of the forces of two nations this was truly a war. To venture to Fuyuki with the hopes of surviving after the loss of one's servant was naive, or a fortunate outcome to failure at most.

Brauer straightened himself up as the sister made her way out, the magus making sure he did not show any fear or antsiness. Her few spared words were met with eloquent, freely given speech in contrast to her curt and exasperated comments.

"I do not think the altar need fall under part of the remodeling we might do, if any, so do not worry. Otherwise... may we not meet again. I say that not as an insult, but as a hope of fortune for both of us. I have no ill will towards you or God, but I have no love either. We all have our roles, sister. I plan to pursue mine to the culminations of my own dreams. We are born with a purpose, magi especially so. To not commit fully is a betrayal of the blood."

Brauer bid her farewell once more, gloved hand waving behind her as she walked off. She did not accept his hand in a way, but she nonetheless accepted the request under duress he presented. Leave the church and let them be so they may use the church as the resource it was meant to be in the eyes of the Nazis.

He could only hope that the tool known as Archer would carry him to the end he sought. Sieg Heil Viktoria. May we attain ultimate victory, for country and family.

D1 - P1

---

“… Your loyalty… That is indeed relieving, but I would still prefer we have a good partnership. We can only go so far if it is just loyalty. I would like us to garner an understanding of each other after all. And it is not the same as a scribe, but that is interesting to know.”

Thinking of how to react to the bit about her name, she just nodded her head as she stared at the Servant, and then at the Command Seals burned into her hand. Leaning back against the wooden frame of the temple, she almost let a sigh escape. It was a bit more than she expected still. The whole situation.

“Since we have this chance, how about something like this then? If you have any questions about me or the Einzbern family I shall happily answer them. And you answer any questions I have in return? I would rather it be shared happily and willingly than forced after all.”

Uva was making it clear, not just to her Servant but to herself, that she meant what she said. She wanted an equal partnership with her Servant, not just unconditional loyalty to her, a Magus she’d never met until she’d been summoned. Along with her words, she rose an arm and held out her palm to the woman she summoned, as a gesture rather than actually asking for her hand. The other arm was kept down though for some reason, as she kept at her task.

“Not just limited to myself or my family though. Anything else I may be able to answer is good too. That being said I am not the most well versed in the world so that may not work actually, if you want knowledge on things that may be considered more exotic or helpful to the masses at times.”

D1 - P1

@Gracefully

---

Saizou's head tilted slightly at the sight of someone leaving the church, who was not one of the Masters he had been informed of from the German's side. Odd coincidence, to feel a Master nearby at the same time as this occurring. If he waited for a minute, he would likely have Assassin to support him. But if he waited a minute, he might lose the opportunity to meet the Overseer and avoid the enemy Master.

Well, he wasn't going to tell Assassin something he couldn't follow up on.

'I am afraid I cannot promise anything, Assassin. I will try.'

What to think about the Servant he had summoned? She was, arguably, the ideal Servant for him to work with in terms of her abilities. An exceptional spy. A mankiller. There was certainly value in overwhelming strength, but it did not feel appropriate for this setting. Wars were not on might alone, and if this were to be one, then they would have need of her skills as an Assassin.

Personality wise? It was not really his place to judge. If he was to judge, however, he would say her personality did not necessarily mesh with his own on paper. It did, in the fact that he was willing to work with her despite that, but it was as clear as day that she did not regard him as an equal. That fact did not upset him, but it did give him something to consider. How would he amend that? Was it even possible to amend that issue? Was it necessary?

Thoughts for another time.

He approached, his movements and expression betraying nothing beyond a strict posture. The burn on the back of his hand returned as he got closer to the Church. "Excuse me!" He called out to the foreigner in his barely practised English, quickly swapping back to his mother tongue. "You are the holy woman...?" He asked, his tone perfectly neutral.

Tone aside, he was actually pretty sceptical. There was a certain image to priests, nuns and monks. She didn't align with any of them. He brushed his scepticism aside for a moment, reasoning it away. This was an odd situation, it was only natural for it to include odd individuals. How many strange people had he seen in the short few months he had been in Wuhan? Long black hair and European clothes, standing among the bodies of her slaughtered comrades, sifting through them to get to him. She was not Chinese, but she fought for them.

For a moment, he was involuntarily distracted with memories of a girl. He had killed her too, in the end. He focused on the present.

"I am Sargent Nanaya Saizou," He continued, giving the woman a formal bow. Even if she was not the Overseer, that did not mean she was undeserving of politeness. "Representative. I have come to inform you that preparations are complete on our side."

His eyes moved from her to the Church she had come from, blinking a few times. It was an unspoken statement, referring to the presence of a second Master, enough of a tell for her to pick up. He had no intention of entering the Church, so long as the other Master was present.

Luckily, with her outside, he did not need to.

Arianna Lombardi, Overseer Executor

---

She slows to a stop, and glances over her shoulder, and then turns around. "Oh." He must be the Japanese soldier. They each sent someone in that role - and, it seems, they each sent a man to her Church. Very visibly, she sizes him up, and exhales. "Yes, I'm from the Holy Church." She doesn't quite say she's a holy woman - that has different implications, to her, and she's no nun. Not at all. Her face shifts, to a smile, and a hand settles at her hip.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Sergeant." She does not return the bow, nor should it be expected. At least she has the nicety to address him in his own tongue. Well practiced, but she's a foreigner, and it shows in some parts of her diction. "I'll tell you now that you should be more careful with who you say things like that too. At best, you frighten some woman, and at worst, you make people start asking questions. Anyway."

She clears her throat, to take a more formal tone with him. "I appreciate the information, but I regret to inform you that, due to the actions of the Nazi delegation, I am forced to retreat. To give it to you in short? I can't act as Overseer, at this time. The Nazi there, Master of Archer, demanded my surrender of the neutral ground. If you and your people could push them out of the Church, and secure it so I could return, I would be happy to continue that duty - and compensate you, in the form of extra Command Seals. His Servant may be in the area, so you should be wary. I also, since I don't have a Church for shelter, can't protect any Masters who exit the war."

That has a pretty clear split meaning. On one hand, it's face value is that no one has a safe place to hide out in. But, it also means that, for the time being, both sides are perfectly free to kill one another. The Overseer is literally not able to do anything about it, and, as a matter of fact, doesn't even exist right now. What's left over is an Executor who's playing heretic into heretic, and offering to pay off one side for it. There's no shame in that. Not for her. If the Nazis wanted a fair war, without massive favoritism, they shouldn't have forced her out. At this point, she's perfectly pleased to collaborate until she has the war back under control. After that, she'll reward the Japanese, and decide exactly how impartial she'll be from there on out.

Of course. She doesn't intend to do nothing but play one side into the other, and provide material support to one. If she were just a member of the church, she could do that. Instead, she'll be able to assert herself. "Also. Thank you very much for coming to see me on honorable terms. I respect that quite a bit, especially in light of what the other side did instead."

---

The loftily-clad man, at first, did not react to Rider's advances of conversation. Emmerich merely held up a finger to the legendary creature without even bothering to look at him. After a minute of silence, a sharp exhale followed and the melancholic-faced officer gently set the headset back into the trunk of the car. With a flick of a single switch, he noted:"They refuse to send the liaison plane - Too dangerous for now, they say.", he murmured and a tinge of annoyance spawned in his voice long seconds. "I can't work efficiently when blind, I'm going to need those eyes in the sky!" But this wasn't enough to infuriate the officer - Indeed, Emmerich appeared to be a tame spirit with little capacity for true spite.

After closing the trunk of the light-weight vehicle, the officer spared an awkward glance for the Servant almost as if he didn't expect him to be interested in common roadside banter with mere mortals. "Ah, well...", he began to recount as he rose from the vehicle. "Yes, the Imperial masters are a mystery still. We know nothing about them aside the looks and that a handful of them belong to prominent magus families. Judging from the photos I got, we'll have the easiest time against the Toshaka girl - Disheveled, careless, sleepy, so... Unvölkisch." As he uttered the last word, Emmerich's face adapted the expression of ultimate disappointment. There was no anger behind this reaction either, just mere paternal dissatisfaction as if one of his own two daughters brought home a middle school failure as her new boyfriend. However, it did not last long - The officer immediately addressed the elephant in the room. "Patience, my Rittl'. Patience.", he warmly emphasized the word."I feel your restlessness - I did so ever since we set foot onto this land. For now, I ask you only to embrace the virtuous quality of restraint. Cherish these last few moments of peacefulness we have."

With a minuscule smile on his lips addressed to Rider, Emmerich soon gave one last glance to the forest beyond Shinto through his binocular. "If my anticipations are correct, you may soon have more than you could bite - For your fighting urges, that is." As he set about preparing the consolidation of their presence in this area, only a distracted groan escaped his thin lips: "What are you up to, Brauer...?"

@Breo



“Hmm.” What should have been a mere and quiet contemplative rumination instead came out as a resonating roar. The lion that stood with the pride of the king of the wild craned his head forward in the contemplation of a man as he held a hand to his chin.

He had noted already that his master had no strong input in the shaping of these battle plans, nor did she give him any orders out of the ordinary. For the girl whose direction seemed to along the lines and rails of what was said by others to ask him for his input first and foremost before offering any ideas of her own, or even comment on the time and work that would be wasted by abandoning the bridge. She was annoyed as a matter of fact, but for one who carried the noble bearing of an aristocrat she seemed strangely demure. She was clearly bothered in other ways, although he could not quite get a read on why exactly. Perhaps it was the notion that her sister was heading to the church, if so was she then worried about the safety of her kin? If that was the case her question to Saber was even more worrying. To him it seemed as though her statements of what they should and were to do were framed like questions that sought confirmation, like an unsure student called out for an example.

If Saber could put a word to their relation so far it would be awkwardness. A sense of awkwardness that seemed to exist in place of the tension that came with the risk to one’s life that the conflict. It did not even feel as though he were simply being treated as a familiar, or a weapon, simply that his master had little to say.

But it was the last bit of her request that truly made him consider. She herself said that she needed input. This wasn’t the matter of requesting the expertise of a soldier, or the instincts of a hero. To be a paragon of a society was to be its virtue and guiding light, so the idea of guiding a person despite being in the subservient role of a familiar did not seem so strange to him. He knew himself that his story was of inspiration, unfortunate as it was that the sense of inspiration was that of shame, and of the idea that virtue shines greater when surrounded by its opposing sin. But deciding for one and inspiring one were two different things. Even if he might disagree with her decisions he could not help but feel more discomforted by the lack of decision in the first place.

What did she want to fight for, and how strong a passion would she muster? Without knowing that he felt lost on their own chances of victory. The war of soldiers and commanders was different from the war of heroes who pursued their desires and virtues to beyond the limits of normal humans. Even if the masters were human themselves the difference in conviction could just as easily lead to the defeat of their side, as much as any misstep in their plans. The enemy fought to defend what they made, and their homes. What then did his master fight for?

“The bridge, the church. Both are important locations and steps in the plan we follow, but what is important to you, master? As of now we do not have anything. We are at a severe disadvantage in that we have no holdings in contrast to an enemy that is well-entrenched. This is their home, their land, and they hold all the advantages. On one hand to abandon this point is to abandon our attempt to balance the scales. On the other hand especially because we are at a disadvantage we cannot afford to lose anything. If we do not have anything yet then there is no loss if we leave.”
In the end he wasn’t sure if the master could truly understand what sort of a servant he was..

“Master, are you afraid?” he asked bluntly, his singular eye staring down at her. “If so, of what? To be held accountable for a failure or loss depending on what you choose, of the loss of your sister, or for the loss of the war?”

He turned and moved away from his master, yet the weight of his attention did not fade from the woman. Saber walked to look towards the city and in the direction of the church before craning his head over his shoulder. His figure basked in the light that fell upon Fuyuki and the bridge gleaned not with the light of the sun or moon, but instead that of a hero. By no means was Saber the greatest hero of the grand empire that united the world, and it was hard to say that he was a famed hero in the modern day. Yet the feelings that he brought for ill or good. The courage that he embodied to the point that his flesh took form beyond that of a simple man. Together they gave him the brilliance of a hero, the brilliant light that scorched into others, revealing how paltry they burned in comparison. A light that did not coddle, a light that illuminated faults that hid in the darkness. But it also formed a beacon in the darkness, showing the beauty in the virtue, showing an ideal to strive towards. To call it a light that cursed the cowardice of humanity was an insult to it, ascribing it a spite that it should exist separate from.
“I shall let you decide, master. I gave myself for Rome, even if Mercury in the end did not spirit me away, bless Tiberinus for his aid. I love Roma, and Roma in return gave its love to me. To be brave requires purpose, and a hero without purpose is simply a wayward vagabond who misunderstands the nature of heroic deeds. Heroism flows from purpose, and the deeds that are born come from that purpose. To simply act as a hero is a sham. One can do heroic deeds but not be a hero. If such an element exists for heroes, then why not of masters who seeks to wield heroes. Will you do what a master does, or will you be a master?”

He let out a grunt that rattled both his throat and mane as he presented this challenge to the girl. If he could say himself what sort of courage held the most it was the courage to chase after what was valuable despite the consequences.

“What do you want? “


@Over Illusion


“To think that representations of dangerous and frightening beasts would become the common toys of children.” The bewilderment in his mental voice was clear, although there was a touch of amusement as well. Humanity’s distance from the exhibition of power of beasts, and the danger that they presented grew further and further. With that lack came the view of animals as curiosities. Perhaps it was natural to find animals cute and funny as a given when one was exposed primarily to the ones that were brought up domesticated as pets. Or maybe he was looking at it the wrong way? To innocent children the idea of a soft doll as a companion was a reassurance, a guardian that they carried as friend and toy around so they would feel safe and not be alone.

...With that train of thought he wondered if it was more than just a whim or coincidence that someone like him was with a master who was currently focused on such things.

“I wonder if I’d be seen as something like one of these if I were to walk around corporeal. Master, is it possible that you summoned me in pursuit of a doll?” While said in jest, the strange and erratic behavior she at times did make him wonder… No, even if she was at times a hard to predict oddity the competence of his master was not in question.

His thoughts flowed towards the topic of his master, and he considered how strange they both were when it came to the topic of the body. They were both people with bodies changed from what was a normal man. He was changed as a result of his own legend, but she was changed as a result of her own work. In his body he had pride, as it was the coin that paid for the safety of Rome, but he also could not deny that he felt frustration in his life, that despite the meaning infused into his body now as a hero that he would have wished for a way to have replaced himself like his master did. But despite the frustration he held an acceptance for the price of his selfishness of grasping for life even after charging into a story where death was the end.

Even if he escaped with his life, the injuries from his heroics left him maimed for the rest of his life. But it was okay if he was crippled, it was okay if he was hurt. For it was proof that he was not yet dead, it was proof that he escaped. He offered himself as a shield, but he did not accept death. To simply accept death as a consequence was to stain the value of what he wanted to protect. To simply throw away life as an option and reduce it to a mere tool, a mere weight to balance an exchange. Life was too precious, and Rome was too precious for them to be boiled down to such a crass evaluation. To want to live so much some might say seemed contradictory to one who charged forth against insurmountable odds with bravery, but to him the answer that rectified the two was simple. To survive as a person, to survive as a hero. That was what he valued most of all. A selfish lack of compromise to live as a functioning piece of flesh, a lack of compromise to die for his ideals. In a way his courage was the courage to be able to so shamelessly declare his selfish desire to hold onto everything.

When the news from the church came, requesting the aid in establishing their claim upon the once-neutral ground Saber made his way out of the shop, mentally asking his master to follow to somewhere he could materialize for their departure. Scooping her up later into his arms, he found himself staring at her limbs for a moment despite himself. Her body was overall more durable than a normal master, and yet to go at his full speed was still unwise. But more than that he found himself wondering about the fragility of her as a person. Was she simply eccentric and driven, to do as she did? Or?...

Saber decided to stifle his speculation on the topic. He would trust his master and treat her as though she were Roma. Leaping into action, the shop that held stuffed animals with perhaps some resemblance to Saber was swiftly left behind. The mane that stood with pride, not deforming and refusing to be pushed back by the winds that buffeted him in protest of his speed seemed to brush against his master as though it were the presence of a assuring doll.

@Yukitamas



Choice. Hah, easy for the Servant to say, he did not have to carry the consequences of whatever path she took on his shoulders. But nonetheless, the lion-headed man had a fair point—whatever it was she was going to do, she had to make up her mind now.

Tapping herc fingers against the railing, she felt the urge to sigh once more. Her orders were rather explicit—take this location for the sake of their continued efforts, and she understood the reason, of course. Besides, who was to say there were no others lying in wait around Shinto, wishing for them to congregate and witness what they were capable of, if not use the chance to kill more than one of them?

Yet, at the same time. . .

She trusted—wholeheartedly believed—that her sister would be able to handle herself. She was always the better of the two when it came to this sort of thing, and Janika could admit that much, but at the same time, the risk of the enemy Master and Servant getting away with whatever they did to Brauer and Archer was not so low that she felt as confident as she could have been.

That was the thing, precisely, wasn’t it? Attempting to take all the locations as quickly as possible was a fine opener, but it also left them somewhat isolated from one another. For Brauer and Archer, this meant greater trouble—if the enemy was canny or simply powerful enough, they would be able to crush the pair before Frederica had reached them, and that would leave them down to six versus eight. Not odds she fancied, especially considering the lack of knowledge on those eight. Yet, what could she do? Foolish though it might have been, Frederica was closer than she, and if her sister did not make it in time, what chances had Janika to accomplish anything?

She should just stay put and carry out her orders. That is what the rational part of her mind told her.

And yet. . .

She did not have any particular ties towards either Brauer or Archer. She had not much in common with any of them, nor were they people she necessarily liked or even respected beyond what she afforded as their current status of colleagues required. However, just because she did not like them, that was no reason to sit by and do nothing while they were in trouble, and just because she was better than them, it did not mean she was free to not care if they were slaughtered. She would lose no sleep over their deaths, but there were certain things she had to take into account in this situation.

Noblesse oblige, as it were. She, who had greater power and status, also had greater responsibilities thrust upon her shoulders. To leave their allies to potential demise and to leave their would-be-killers free to escape would be a stain upon her own reputation and the Edelfelt name as a whole. She could not—would not—allow for such things, and so, for the second time, her features hardened and her eyes gleamed.

“Saber,” Her voice was cold and clipped, a hint of decisiveness breaking through. Janika was gone, Lady Edelfelt took the reins. “Carry me to the church grounds, as swiftly as you are able without breaking my neck in the process. This bridge—this entire side—can be taken later, when we are sure no allies will be lost this embarrassingly early.”

And it would be so dreadfully embarrassing. At least it could be washed away somewhat if Brauer took the enemy with him, but as things stood. . .

No matter, fixating on that was not important. What mattered was taking action.

“Do make sure to be careful with our approach,” She said as she came to stand by her Servant, facing in the direction of the church. “There is a nonzero chance they will attempt to make their getaway via the shortest paths straight towards the river, considering my sister will be approaching them from Shinto. Even if we cannot discern the Servant him or herself, if two Masters pass by close enough. . .” She traced the Command Seals on the back of her left hand, hidden by her glove. “Well, suffice to say, we will know, and that might make things all the easier.”

Nothing else needed to be said.

---

@Angry Hungarian



“You might feel me, Master, but I can’t really say that makes me feel much better,” The spirit sighed. Perhaps he should have been more careful with his words, but now that his Master had engaged him in conversation, his nature reared to a head. “Misery might love company, but I’m not infatuated with misery.”

Standing guard around the car, he could practically feel the dullness of the situation attempt to shatter his mind, but he did try to endure. At the very least, he now had someone to actually talk to, and his Master was an agreeable enough man, even if he did not particularly seem to share in his interests. He dearly did wish to become corporeal, if only for a scant few instants, in order to actually stretch his legs, feel the crisp air on his skin and the blades of grass bend underfoot, but for now, he would stay like this. Throwing some sideways glances towards the people walking about the place—few as they were—he realized it would not be wise for a man that looked straight out of raiding a museum exposition to suddenly materialize from nothingness. He had toyed with the idea that maybe one of them would also be a Master, but at this distance and considering his own’s lack of care, he knew it to be an empty hope.

He had also toyed with the idea that, perhaps, if the Lancer was still unknown, he could. . .

“Do you think a small wish would become true if you believe in them hard enough?” The question was posed so softly it was almost boggling to think that it came from the same man. Oh, how he wished to meet her again, to make that declaration once more and, if nothing else, even if she killed him again in the end, it would make any pains worth it. But then he shook his head. “Ah, never mind. My luck’s never been that good, anyway, and the odds are, what, a million to one?”

For a second, it seemed as though he had forgotten about his Master, tone wistful, speaking as though he was the only one there. For a second, his Master was privy to a side of Rider few had ever seen. But it only lasted that much, and vanished like the morning dew. In a heartbeat, his standard persona had returned.

“Say, Master, I never did get a chance to ask, is there any particular reason you chose me?” He seemed curious as to the answer, perhaps wanting to know what had the man seen in him to grant him this second chance. “Was it just my strength and my dashing good looks or did something else also play a factor in it? Can’t say I’m the greatest expert, but I’d have though someone like you would have been fonder of a subtler sort—though maybe that’s just because I don’t yet know you very well, I suppose.”

Indeed, his Master so liked the part of the soldier he would have guessed he would have gone for a less overt and—dare he say it—less demanding Servant. He did not much care for the fact that the man had diminished his own abilities, but considering the fact that their faction seemed rather keen in attaining victory, he wondered if he shouldn’t have picked a Servant he would know for sure he would be comfortable with, or one he could utilize to the fullest extent without worries.

Oh, well, it mattered little, in the end. At the very least, it would fill up the air with some more chatter to distract him from the growing boredom—

And then he heard his Master’s mutter. Quickly growing restless, he made his way to the other side of the car, looking in the direction of the place their ally had been ordered to take.

“Are the magus and Archer in trouble?” He asked, gazing in the same direction as his Master. “If so, we could always move in to help them, I suppose—then again, considering the distance, perhaps it would be better to leave that task to our other allies. Grani is swift, but not as swift as a Servant proper in most cases, and if I were to attempt to move at full throttle. . .” He stopped rambling, but it was rather easy to understand that he felt concerned as far as his Master stood. A human body would not really be able to withstand Sigurd’s full speed, diminished though it may have been. Furthermore, it was one thing to employ it in the thick of battle, but such a sustained burst from one end of the city to another would not be good for the man even if he could handle the forces he would be subjected to, and Rider would guess his Noble Phantasm would fall to a similar pitfall, considering the circumstances.

Not for the first time, Sigurd found the fact that he was so reliant on someone so. . .fragile to be irritating. Grumbling, he resumed his position.

“I’ll keep my eyes peeled in case any of them show up around here, though I doubt it,” He said. If he was trying to conceal his disappointment over the fact that the first run-in with enemies was not his, he did a poor job of it. “If you decide to move out, just say the word.”

It was decided that to simply linger was unwise. Archer was a hero who won many great battles, but his nature was that of one who did not linger in the massive epic brawls of other legends. To back away was to risk what they took through their transgression. They could not lose a servant or a master, but they must not sacrifice the Church also.

It was through talking with his servant that he came to a decision. As the woman of the cloth met with the man of the Japanese Army he in turn walked into the depths of the church. They had to reposition. Archer's ability to hold ground by himself was low and his own abilities as a magus could not be brought out in combat like this. Leaving the church was ironically their best method to hold it. On the plus side Archer was one who could strike from a distance, and due to their presence, even for a short time within, knew the layout of the place. Backup would be coming and there was a way they could keep the enemy from simply walking into the church.

With a heavy-hearted sigh Brauer left one of his creations, a strange bell within the church. As Archer and Brauer left the church, the rush of a servants speed taking them away from the site it whirred to life. Expanding outward the field of the device turned the church into the belly of the beast. There was no grand ceremony, only the hum of the device as it established itself, reaching out to envelop the home of god with its decaying touch. All that lived would be rendered into lifeless and foul material. Bugs that hid within the ground below, and any vermin that lingered within lost their form, sagging as their fluids turned into an ooze that bulged and ruptured veins.

As much as he disliked playing this hand of his this early, he felt a small degree of relief with parting with it, even if only temporarily. A unpleasant creation simply meant to end life, the first creation Brauer could say he made solely for the purpose of being a weapon. He feared that it would be far from the last.

Once they reached a suitable place to watch over the church, contest any attempts to enter and reclaim it Brauer contacted the others, letting them know of his tactical retreat and the idea to contest the church in a manner that was less dangerous for him and Archer.