...This is a digression, but unlike his peers in the Burial Agency, Anthony Giacosa merely possesses two things that make him worthy of that status: his body's power, and his Holy Scripture. If not for either of these, he would be no better than an average Executor, albeit a frighteningly experienced one.

This is to say that if there was anything Anthony Giacosa was secure in, it was the power of Radah. That partner of his had seen him through a thousand battles, had made him into the monster of God that he was today. The other Burial Agents, the Eighth Sacrament, his own body, all of those could fail him and indeed had in the past, but Radah never once had.

If he was without it, this battle would surely have been different, but before everything else, he trusted Radah. If his own trained instincts told him he needed to do something and Radah urged him otherwise, he would follow Radah. As for the issue of how a weapon could urge a man to act...

'Confirmed the hit! He had some sort of magical energy armor, probably based off the concept of dragon scales, so we didn't do damage. Effect still hit, though, the flow of magical energy around him's plummeted, but his spiritual foundation's still stable, so he might have another trick or two left. He said he had a mount, and I don't want to imagine what the proper use of that sword is. Don't give him a chance to get his wits about him, take him down now!'

'Got it. If you see fluctuations of magical energy start to form around him...I'm not risking anything against someone with a sword that can hurt you who hasn't used a single trump card. I don't care if we only have three charges left, you have permission to ignite.'

His body had failed him in the past, but Radah never had. Even when it failed its previous user against that great glass moon, it didn't fail Anthony Giacosa. Were he alone, he would need a moment. Recover from the blow, assess the situation, decide what to do. However, here and now, he needed none of those things. Still dazed as he was from the blow to his head, the contract to his partner who laid at Sigurd's feet served as a line that he didn't need a clear head to follow.

In the same moment that Emmerich began to invoke his Command Seal, Gavel's body jettisoned forth. It would merely take Emmerich one second to give the command, but one second was quite a long time when Servants were concerned.

Seeing this, Sigurd in the same moment reached for his mount.

'Flow of magical energy's changing! It's not from the sword, so it's either some hidden card of his or his mount. Igniting, I'm going to back you up!'

And seeing this, Gavel's partner in the same moment chose to act.

In other words, it could be said that four things happened at once.

Gavel charged forwards at his enemy, the directions of his partner overcoming that split-second daze.

Sigurd called on Grani to bring his mount into the world.

Emmerich began to invoke his Command Seal.

Something within the handle of Radah flared to life.

-And then, three of those things completed.

Gavel arrived in front of the weakened Sigurd, hand moving to take his heart.

Grani manifested at Sigurd's side, kicking out to move him from Gavel's range.

Something appeared amidst those gathered three, the Fourth Holy Scripture held in its hand.

The coordination between Sigurd and Grani was flawless. As a companion capable of being called to him even as a Servant, Grani's bond with his rider was immeasurable.

...However, Sigurd was not the only one with such a contract.

"Phantasmal Beast?! You goddamn cheat! Anthony, I'll tie it down, go for the kill!"

It was a woman. Horns jutting out from her head, blue eyes glinting, she appeared with the object she was bound to clutched tightly in her hands.

Grani's hooves extended out to knock its rider out of harm's way. Gavel's hand moved to drive Sigurd's heart from his chest. The woman's hammer broke through the air to keep Grani from reaching its target.

The Elemental and the Phantasmal Beast clashed. She does not have the combat prowess of her wielder, she cannot defeat a Phantasmal Beast in a contest of force, but she simply needed to ward off the horse for a split-second.

And, by the time that split-second had ended, the woman and Grani stood at a stalemate, and Sigurd's heart lay clutched in Gavel's hand.

Just as Emmerich finished invoking his Command Seal, he would find those marks upon his hand fade, receding out.

"...you're not allowed to die without telling me your name, you know."

His companion manifested. His soul bared, his sword unleashed. Not enough, it seemed.

Ah, was this truly his death? It was not a bad one, not at all. He had enjoyed the time spent, he had felt his blood boil in a good fight, and now his eyelids closed as though this was but a distant dream. Yet, there was still more to do, there were things he would like to say.

He was not a hero that had a tale of surviving when he should have died. He was simply hard to kill properly in the first place, so the only thing he could do was hold to his consciousness and try to hold to those last threads he possessed, grasping them and not letting go.

He would not be so unsightly as to attempt to hold out and live when he should be dead—he would dislike it if an enemy did that instead of accepting the outcome with grace, so it would be quite hypocritical to attempt anything of the sort. Just some time for goodbyes was not wrong, however—at least, he did not think about it that way.

“Ah, man,” The words that came out of his mouth were slurred and he was making an effort to make them heard over the blood building up in his own throat. He spat to the side. “So this is how it ends, huh? Short run, I guess, but can’t say I regret it,” His tone was the usual upbeat, not losing an ounce of brightness in spite of the circumstances—though perhaps more pained than usual. “Though I guess it’s pretty selfish of me to say that. Real sorry, Master, seems like you didn’t summon as reliable a Servant as you thought, huh?”

Peals of laughter intermixed with coughs for an instant, as though he found peace in his own death. His horse approached, steps almost sedate, and the mare nuzzled her head against Sigurd, who ran a hand through her coat before she vanished in motes of light. “Sorry you only got to come to see this, really. But you’re still as wonderful as ever. Maybe next time.”

His gaze shifted to stare at his enemy.

“Yo,” He smiled. “Hey, don’t you think stealing a heart in the first date’s moving too fast? Sorry if that was the aim, though—afraid I already got someone,” He attempted a cheeky smile, but it came out mixed with a grimace. “Mind if I ask you not to go after my Master? I figure it’s about the only thing I can do right now, and it’s sort of my duty still.” Wounds are there, of course, but his skin also showed cracks—like shattering glass.

Gaze upturned towards the heavens, his smile still in place, he seemed to ponder his circumstances for a bit. “I feel bad for leaving them hanging, but I suppose it was a fated outcome. Still, sucks I didn’t even get to ascertain the identity of Lancer or Caster. . .hey if either is a woman with long white hair. . .no, never mind, it’s something I would have to do myself, anyway, it would be meaningless otherwise.” He shifted, attempting to find a more comfortable posture before recognizing that his thorax being caved in is probably not conductive to such. Thus, he resigned himself to spend his last moments like so.

“My name?” Sounding confused for an instant, realization dawned on his features. “Ah, that’s right, yeah, I didn’t actually introduce myself, did I? Well, no harm in it now, I guess. It’s Sigurd, son of Sigmund, Slayer of Fafnir. . .you know, the usual titles. Just Sigurd should do just fine,” Another bout of pained chuckles. “Normally it’d spell bad news to be so open about it, but I doubt it matters at this point. Thanks for a fun fight, at least, Mister Burial Agent.”

And it had been fun, to him at least. The man was probably a terrible matchup for him, but Sigurd was just the sort of idiot to not care, and it was certainly a better death than the original one. The only thing he regretted was that this chapter was so short, but even that feeling would vanish soon—one had to accept things as they came, and he shouldn’t let himself be embittered by something so petty. He had had his run, so it was only fitting.

The world of the present belonged to those who lived in it. Shades of the past like him—like all the Servants summoned in this War—had no say in it, and attempting to think it their own was foolish. In a way, this was certainly poetic—the heroes of today have the duty to surpass the ones of yesterday. . .or something like that. He had never been that good with words to begin with.

“Oh, well,” Resignation seeped into his tone, his lower body started to vanish. “Guess this is it. It was nice seeing the present is not as terribly boring as I thought it was, so thank you for that.”

Perhaps it was mind-boggling for someone to address his killer in such a way, but the fact of the matter remained that Sigurd had acknowledged his loss and he had never seen why being friendly exempted people from trying to kill each other. It was a rather strange notion of this modern world that he, once again, did not quite get. Shame they hadn’t gotten to share drinks.

He raised his hand towards the sky, as though attempting to catch the stars—something that he could never reach, something that he would forever chase. That was the Karma he carried, and this was but a simple intermission in that journey.

“Not this time around, I am afraid,” His smile carried not the jovial undertones of his usual expressions, and his tone had shifted from upbeat to something resembling longing. But there was a tenderness to his voice that could not be denied. “But I guess. . .the advantage is. . .that I can try again, and again, and again forever,” Letting it fall, he grasped the hilt of his sword, but made no further movements, gaze still drawn towards a dream perhaps only he could see.

A simple woman, a beautiful woman, a wonderful woman. It is true that shades of the past like them have no business in the present, but they could certainly have business with each other. His own present was with her, simple as that.

“One day, Brynhildr,” The last words passed through his lips as he breathed his last. “We will meet again, I swear.”

And thus, Sigurd died, though perhaps the haze in his mind conjured a memory of a time long past—of a smile like the sun.

And thus, Sigurd died—with a smile on his face.

tl;dr berserker poof's to ryuudou temple

(wait tohsaka's back)

There was no motion of acknowledgement, no word spoken. Saber moved. The further unnecessary commands that were given lost to the gale that was left reeling in the wake of Saber’s unrestrained passage roared out like a beast, torn apart by the man and left clinging to the memory of his presence.

“Don’t worry about me, don’t think about it.” The words were almost greeted later by Saber’s mind with an amused scoff. There was no need to say that to him of all people. Among heroes there are those who are the greatest at slaying evil, those who are the greatest at bringing wisdom and blessings to their people, those who bring ruin to nations, those who would twist destiny and fate, those who would break gods and mountains in their wake.

His legend was more human and humble, ironically so perhaps with the grand stature and appearance it gave him. It was a story, short and small, yet it gave the chance for the greatest tale of all to grow. It was not by his hand that the sapling grew to become the tree that spread across and became synonymous with the world, with man. He was not the seat of divinity and authority to which all the world flowed towards. He was not the blessed progenitor who planted the seed, who also planted all the rights and blessings of the emperor.

Yes, he was a momentary shield, like a transient snowflake. He was not the only protector of Roma but it was the brightest most important detail to his life. Even as a blade he was the Scutum. Although it was likely that a class such as Shielder would suit him better and fulfill his role as the protector even greater. Bringing not just the inspiring figure of the lion, but also bringing forth into form the mentality of one who was courage, and the virtue itself.

But that was an irrelevance. He was not the first, he was not the last. But it was most definitely thanks to him that the sapling in its cradle was not uprooted. With pride he beared his scars even as they brought pain and lameness. Ah, this body, this damaged body was proof of the survival of Roma.

There was one attribute he claimed without equal among men, and that was to be a protector. So long as Saber exists then Roma is safe, so long as Saber exists so too will his master be under his protection. Perhaps there are gods, those who reached heaven, or were extinguished that could rival or exceed him. But among normal men, among those who counted themselves as mere mortals and heroes he would fulfill that one duty better than all of them.

If that was the case… why was there no hesitation in leaving his master? His attribute was to protect his master, not to be a dutiful hound who obeyed like a hero of charity. He was the one who protected without fear, and he was the shield of his master. The notion that so long he existed his master was safe was not one born of a boast, or an allegory for his unwavering drive and courage that would not compromise. So long as he existed his protection extended to his Master. No matter what time or space separated them he would be able to be her shield. It was because of that ability that he had no fear in leaving her. For even if he was not by her side his body would bear all for her. There was no need to hesitate, no reason to worry. Not about her, not for him. The river was already gone from sight when he finally allowed himself a moment to respond through their link.

“Survive? Even if I am not the one who walks by the side of your sister there’s hardly a need to ask me to do so. I am the shield who lives to see the glory that awaits at the beginning of the end. Ah, if we are making requests however…”

Faster, faster, faster. Unrestrained by the limits of humans in his own body, nor restrained by the burden of man in the form of his master, freed completely to enact the illusion and relic of the past, the speed exceeded the travel of the modern world even with him not being the swiftest of servants.

He was fast, fast as he could ever be. But would it be enough? He had no fear for his master, but he wondered if he would arrive in time to protect his ally. But whatever adversity awaited him at the manor his path was clear, unchanging.

“Trust in me. There is no need to worry, for I am here.”

A Nation was not simply a land, a nation is not simply the lives of the humans within. It is the whole, the culture, the convictions, the dreams and virtues of a people. To protect a nation is to protect their values, lives, property and way of life. It is to hold it sacred and to prevent it from being despoiled and stained.

He would protect his master, and leave her to grow without blemish. As a master, as a magus, as a human.

No matter the opposition that awaited him…

He simply need work towards that one task.

As his fallen opponent's enemy dissipated into motes of light, the Burial Agent simply nodded in reply.

"Well met, then, Sigurd. Thank you for breaking my monotony."

Simply saying this as the Servant faded from this world, the monster of God turned to the Elemental at his side, as if waiting for her to speak.

"The destruction of his spiritual foundation's confirmed." The Elemental, the spirit of the Fourth Holy Scripture, chirped out. As she spoke, she stepped towards her contractor, seeming to be in an excellent mood as she handed the hammer in her hand over. After all, while Radah inhabited the weapon, it was Gavel who was more compatible with wielding it. "You know, if your body wouldn't have purged it out on account of the way it is now, I'd have told you to eat that heart or drink some of his blood or something. Even if it's diluted, some draconic blood never hurts."

At this, Gavel let out a sharp laugh, rolling his eyes. In comparison to the manic, battle-crazed man he had been mere moments earlier, his posture was more akin to what it had been prior to combat by now. "Absolutely not. It doesn't matter how strong it'd make me, I wouldn't let demon blood in my veins." He replied, sounding almost amused by the comment. Radah in reply shot him the trace of a glare, a feigned huff leaving her. "You know I'm half 'demon' too, right?" She chided. Gavel blandly shrugged in response, hefting the Scripture over his shoulder. "You're an exception. Anyway, those guys were trying to redirect me into that house before we started, got any readings?"

"Would've told you even if you didn't ask." Radah replied, rocking back onto her heels as she spoke. "You've got one magus and one of those Servant things in there, from what I can tell. So, if you want to go for another round, we can-"

The Elemental cut herself off, though, as an abrupt flare of magical energy formed within the manor. Her head snapped, around, eyes widening. "What...that's not the Servant, is...is that from the magus? Is that the fucking Clock Tower's Director or something? How is a magus in this age able to..." She muttered out incredulously, Gavel simply looking at her in confusion as she spoke.

"...well, change of plans. They just teleported out of there. They can apparently teleport. We need to find out how they can teleport, so once I'm dematerialized, we're going to try and find that Executor girl. We're supposed to contact her when we've cleaned out the Church anyway, so that'll be pretty easy."

"...we're supposed to contact her? How, exactly?"

"What do you mean? They said during dispatch tha-...they didn't give us any way of communicating with her."

"Nope."

"And we don't know what she looks like."

"Nope."

"And neither of us know the language here."

"Nope."

"..."

"..."

"We're killing Crown when we see him, right?"

"Absolutely."

"Well, on another note, I can recharge one of the charges a bit at the cost of making this materialization a good amount shorter, so you have two and a half of 'em left instead of just two. You want to do that and find a hotel near here?"

"We were just discussing how to deal with this mess, why are you shifting gears that quickly?"

"The time I'm materialized for is ticking down pretty damn fast, and on average I've only been able to get materialized once every couple centuries since I was born. If there's nobody to kill immediately around, we have nothing to do but aimlessly wander, and I'm materialized, then we'd better be doing this."

"Alright, alright. Let's try and find a hotel and...see if we can get a room somehow, I guess. Do you know what hotels look like here?"

"If we can't find one then we'll just go under the bridge, I don't fucking care, start walking."

---

All things considered, the day had been a touch grating.

She hadn't expected to like the people they were cooperating with. They were Nazis, after all. Or at least one of them was a Nazi and the other was a half-Nazi half-just-weird-guy. Still though, she hadn't expected this level of irritation.

This feeling stemmed from one simple event: when she had been trying to find a stuffed animal to buy earlier in the day, and had been snatched up by her Servant to respond to a distress call, and when they got there, there was nothing to be distressed about.

Her "official role" or some garbage like that was to set up a Bounded Field around a swath of Shinto. Really, she didn't get the point of that, but if she was at least able to divert some time to her interrupted stuffed animal search, it would have to be begrudgingly allowed.

With this mindset, she continued on up until she received a very panicked communication.

"...oh?"

A Burial Agent? Not just a Burial Agent, but their number four, here? Fighting one of their Servants? No, not just one of their Servants, but their offensive juggernaut?

"...hm, pity. There's a good chance we're about to lose poor Rider." She remarked aloud to her partner, briefly examining a stuffed cat and bear side by side for direct comparison, before settling on the cat. Heading to the register and leaving the store with her new purchase in hand, she shook her head with a slight sigh. "I wonder if this is related to taking over the Church? Nah, no way that's enough reason to send a Burier. Maybe there's a strong vampire nearby and he's just passing through? That'd make sense." She spoke aloud as she walked the streets, stretching a bit as she did.

'Well, Saber, looks like we'll have to take this a bit more seriously. The other two don't properly understand how this works, even if they claim to live in this world. We're in a foreign land against four other magi and Servants, little information on the Masters, no information on the Servants, and we might be about to lose our strongest attacker. I'll just have to show these country bumpkins what the power of an Edelfelt means.'

@Breo@Over Illusion

---

The mad rush of a released Command Seal brought a blindness of power over the officer's eyes. Such strength, such might he thought would be unstoppable. Arcane movements and amounts of prana never felt by an ordinary magus in their entire lifetime were now held at the order of a stalwart german commander. As his spirits rose, so did his rush to rejoin the battle by the side of his companion and cherished hero. Pupils dilated and hasty breathing, skipped exhalations and gasps of bravery: All telltale signs of an ecstatic Emmerich sinking away in his reawakened lust for glorious victory. With his body trained to reflexively execute the movements of a trained soldier, the lanky man's mind was left unoccupied to wander freely. Visions of an auspicious reconnection to the roots of mankind hurried his unbroken sprint onward - The fever-dream of every true fascistic individual was about to be made manifest before his very eyes. Men and women of old heroics, those whose exploits inspired an insurrection against this rising degeneracy of Europe, were now to fight beside the men and women of the present who choose to answer the call of their ancestors!

One more corner to turn - The noise of battle was intoxicating, the air carried a whiff of bloodshed that only made Emmerich's mind race on. The officer has seen it all, old memories came flooding back to his mind's eye. One by one he recalled the worst of mankind he observed and replaced the images with those of a cleaner, hopeful future.

The poisonous Communists who tore down the past - Erased.

The unhinged Marxists that raped women with laughter - Erased.

The eternal Jews that sold children into prostitution - Erased.

The crooked Hebrew that ruined lives with usury - Erased.

The perfidious Englishmen who held a facade of false nobility - Erased.

The detestable Frenchmen who took a people's livelihood - Erased.

Degeneracy - Erased.

The horrible humanity that sunk to hollow nihilism, pursued only base pleasures and sought nothing but minute entertainment - 𝕽𝖊𝖋𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖉.

In earnest, no national socialist wished for the unmaking of a people or their nation and neither did Emmerich wish for those either. What he longed for was merely a purge of righteousness against the values of an aimless society - To once more put onto the throne of humanity the values of culture, tradition and progress. This was the only true path to walk for any man that has lived the War to End All Wars. Civilization was to be rebuilt from the ashes that were left behind after the Apocalypse of Old Europe, lest it be consumed by the bestial nature of an unguided man. In the mind of the officer, Sigurd's mere existence was the embodiment of the success of this movement. Young Warriors of the Gun and Grenade, fighting beside and led by the Old Warriors of the Sword and Shield; All in pursuit of one ultimate truth to be achieved.

A cheer flooded the lanky officer. A grin creaked beneath the balaclava. Kit jingled as both hands clung to the Schmeisser. The sudden rise in uneasy silence did little to halt Emmerich's advance towards the battle against an impregnable foe. A worry scratched at the back of his mind for sure, yet he quickly strangled it into silence for nothing - No mere human - could ever come to match the might of Sigurd.

And yet, it happened. The unthinkable transpired.

There the wretched holy man stood with a heart in his grasp, accompanied by an accursed woman, both basked in the fragments of light that fluttered like a swarm of dayflies in the evening wind. His brain could register the odd formation of visual stimuli to be vaguely in the figure of-

"No, Rider! No - Sigurd! SIGURD!", came the helpless shriek. Suddenly it dawned on the german what truly happened. The sinister signs from earlier that he ignored soon gained meaning: The silence after just a single clash, the throbbing pain in his chest and the sudden disappearance of that imposing presence which could only be cast by a Servant. There was no denying it now, Rider was dead - Once again, that is.

The hearty rush to battle came to an immediate halt. The officer crumbled to his knees in a cascade of metallic noises, yet somehow he still managed to remain upright. It was second nature to him, truly. The force of the stop flung the helmet off his head and immediately a pair of bare hands snapped to take hold of his scalp. "SIGURD!" A shot rang through the night - The dropped Maschinenpistole 38 misfired upon impact against the pavement, sending a lone bullet into the sky and a single hot brass casing onto the ground. The clink of the spent cartridge was soon joined by the rattle and roll of the trusty clothed Stahlhelm. It, too, has hit the pavement. Fortunately it did not misfire.

Eyes shot wide in realization of Rider's death welled with tears that Emmerich quickly diffused. However, within the officer was a shattered world. A hope that was once extinguished by the Great War, sparked again by Rider's existence, was now stomped out again.

"Where are the heroics you promised me, my Rittl?"

There truly were no miracles in this world.

"... Where are they?"

And nothing can change that.

The whimpered questions were not answered. They could simply not be answered anymore, as the person whom they were addressed to no longer existed. There, on the street and in the final purple coat of the sky, Emmerich knelt in humiliation - Not only was a Germanic ideal removed from this word, it was done so with a singular blow lacking any effort delivered by what, on baseline standards, was an ordinary human being. The victor of the battle was not even tired, he did not even break a sweat. The Agent merely walked away from the engagement, holding idle chatter as if nothing happened - As if he shrugged off a piece of lint from his shoulder. In an offhanded manner the lanky german registered that something transpired in the Tohsaka Manor as well, but the despair that beset him bore priority for now.

Like always, Emmerich soon stood again - After all, to live is to struggle. A hollow message was broadcast to all members of his expedition, letting his followers know of the happenings in a solemn and tight-lipped manner.



Manhood is Struggle - He internalized this truth. To become master of one's life, one must become a master of both agony and joy. In these dogmas the officer found the willpower to fight on, yet as his ideal was crushed he has become a changed man. The hyena that survived in those inhuman ditches and fended off herds of rapacious slav after slav in a bid of persistence awoke once more. There was nothing to be gained from wallowing in this misery. Reality had to be accepted, it would not take any other answer than acceptance. Miracles do not exist, just like Sigurd did not exist anymore. He had to move on - Improvise. Adapt. Overcome. - He understood and embraced that. Duty came dripping onto his psychological wounds like a soothing salve.

It was time to continue on with the mission. Silently collecting his belongings and making sure no irreparable damage is done to them, Emmerich ventured forth in the ruins of the short and fatal encounter. A bare hand reached over to the satchel strapped onto his thigh, drawing a plain-looking metallic object of brick-like design. It resembled an oversized flask in all honesty - With a yellow plug and a handle on the topmost part, nothing really stood out on the object's surface aside the thick white text on its side: "3kgs"

In no time the determined officer was already at the doorstep of the Tohsaka Manor, on a knee in front of the main door. With a hand on the yellow plug and the strange metallic object propped up against the door frame, his grasp tightened. A part of him knew that what he was about to do is an outlet for his despair just as much as it is an execution of a plan, but he tried to ignore the former fact. It'd be very unprofessional to bask in such endeavors - And so, he merely cranked and pulled the yellow plug free of the metal object before running away from it posthaste.

Since losing her Church, and putting in her urgent call for assistance, Arianna Lombardi has had very little to do. It would be equal parts uncouth and suicidal to simply open a hunt on every Magus in the city, and to begin the slow process of destroying the sinners that have descended on this city. That can come as a part of 'clean-up'. Once the Masters fight and kill one another, she can do her best to pick her favorite to win. That's the way things are, because the Germans ruined the fight.

Herr Herstelle should've killed her. It's not a good thing, but at the point that he was taking the Holy Church, would it honestly have made things worse? The answer, in short, is no. Even if she were murdered, the Burial Agent was coming. Even if she was not murdered, the Burial Agent was still coming. Would her death make him more dangerous? More vicious? More powerful? Almost certainly not. So, then, had he killed her then and there, he'd have removed someone able to kill any Master she saw fit. But, in return? She really would offer him mercy, if he surrendered and gave up his rights as a Master, when - not if - his Servant falls in combat. But until then, the Germans have made an enemy out of their Overseer. Perhaps not an enemy of the Church as a whole, but certainly an enemy of Arianna.

... If, a passive one, for the time being.

The last several hours, since she moved away from the church, have been spent at a hotel bar, slowly working through their stock of whiskey. Remarkably, due in equal parts to her physical conditioning, and her tolerance of alcohol, it's yet to seem to effect her. She drinks, and it's like nothing even happens. She's already taken a room, and left some of the larger weapons in place there, but for the time being, she's idling. Waiting for things to crack, like the glaze of a fired pot smashed under the weight of a sledgehammer.

Of course, if the Church really thought ahead, they'd organize something akin to a meeting point, or some line of contact between the Burial Agent and the Executor. But, that didn't happen, so she'll just wait. If they are supposed to meet, they will meet. If they aren't supposed to meet, they won't. She might not believe that, but she has faith in it none the less. Luck is a divine thing.

"And you're sure it's stable? It will work properly? If it winds up damaging the land-"

"-For the last time, I'm sure. It's been tested since we remodeled it, there are no adverse effects. Granted, we haven't tested it over an entire city's area, so you might expect diminishing returns in performance. The difference between deploying twenty as opposed to thirty will probably be well less than ten versus twenty."

"Noted, I'll mention that in the handoff."

"Don't forget your end of the deal."

"...I'll make sure you get it."

"Good. If you weren't able to get me what you promised, I'd hate to squeeze appropriate payment out by force. Say, for instance, that little Eastern Mystic Code you're putting so much effort into getting."

"You don't need to threaten me. You'll get it."

"Lovely. A pleasure working with you as always."

---

"Dammit!"

A pale fist strikes a wall, a sharp pain jolting through it as it does. He acknowledges with a mental mutter that it will probably bruise.

"Himmler, damned Himmler. Damned Ahnenerbe, damned Yggdrasil, damned Japanese, damned Einzberns."

A shaky glance is given to the results of his trade, a shaky exhale leaving him. That tool he has acquired is the only way for him to reach his goal.

The other directors are too foolish, they don't understand that the Fuyuki project has the highest potential out of all of Thule's current projects. Because, after all, if that name of Einzbern is involved, it cannot be a fruitless endeavor. The weight that name carries, the Einzberns, the Einzberns...

He will need to send this to the force at Fuyuki immediately. Every second they waste weakens their chances.

Calm. In, out. In, out.

"Glory to the Thule Society."

---

@Over Illusion@Yukitamas@MeteorD

---

The retreat from the crushing defeat went by without a hitch, even if the trek into the depths of the enemy's dressers and cellar brought some worrisome surprises to the attention of the German expedition - But that was hours ago. Those more inclined to academic work were already labouring away to crack the enigmatic loot's secrets. Whilst the arrival to the occupied church did not transpire joyously, Emmerich could not deny the building's comforts. A minute displeasure rose within him, the officer recalling his express orders to remain diplomatic towards the Overseer. Unfortunately, his unviable lifeform of a subordinate could not contain his throbbing urges to do pagan things and instead proceeded to set in motion a tidal wave of events by assessing control over this house of worship. The results were clear; An upset third party and the loss of Rider. With a frown and forehead wrinkled, however, the lanky officer chose to temper his anger with patience. Bauer Herstelle might have been an eclectic man with fondnesses that rose brows, but his potential was impressive. In just under a day, the Worshiper of Wotan turned an innocent church into a "Wirklich Deutsche Festung". Surely his fetishistic mannerism in regards to the swastika was troubling, but this was easy to bear once one considered the benefits he brought to the team.

And so the officer sat again, this time in the private quarters of a priest instead of a hotel room, hunched over a mess of neatly-stacked documents. The trusty black briefcase lied half open against the desk, nothing but the soothing scratching of a pen disturbed the peaceful silence of the room. Fortunately the recent battle left him unscathed, but the night was growing old and his mood was under the weather after witnessing Sigurd's passing. Still, a stray thought cracked Emmerich's stony visage with a paternal chuckle. The set of small papers before him bore that iconic bold text, the topmost line proudly titling the document: "𝕰𝖓𝖙𝖑𝖆𝖘𝖘𝖚𝖓𝖌𝖘𝖘𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖎𝖓" and, not so far to the left, "𝕬𝖗𝖇𝖊𝖎𝖙𝖘𝖑𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖗". The chuckle left a lingering smile in its wake and Emmerich could merely shake his head. "... It is almost as if I was writing permission slips. These Juden and Zigeuner are like children." Again he could not help a heartfelt chuckle, but at least he could hide his lips with the back of his right hand this time.

His garments were once again modest - Nothing but his grey shirt rolled up to the forearm, field gray pants with suspenders and those lovely jackboots. The couple buttons undone at the collar spoke volumes of the man's comfort, revealing nothing but an inkling of tight skin underneath the neck. Even once he finally stood up from the papers did he only haphazardly throw on a coat, his field blouse to be exact. White piping, bottle-green collars and shoulderpads decorated the uniform that would usually be the basis of his combat gear. Now it proved to be nothing more than mere protection from the starry night's cold. Emmerich didn't even bother to button up the front, instead he opted to immediately stroll outside. The day's events had to be pondered upon, he decided while making his way through the building. Despite the sloppy appearance that would not be tolerated by any personnel of the Schutzstaffel, the officer walked with a soldierly gait still and a spine as straight as a telephone post. Some things just do not change, no matter what happens in life - As it was evident by the rifle that he slung over his shoulder during his trot.

It took no more than a minute, but the lanky Emmerich managed to sneak outside to the front door of the ominous church. There, under the watchful gaze of the statue that stood before the building, the officer finally slid forth a pack of cigarettes from his coat sleeve. With a hand on his rifle's sling and another sticking the small roll of tobacco atop his lips, he somehow managed to light the thing - With a common match no less. After a drag and puff of white smoke, piercing eyes scanned the serene exterior of the repurposed house of worship. Surely a break could not hurt before taking the next task upon him?

Moments later, Emmerich has finally dragged himself to do what he had in mind. A sigh and a cloud of smoke escaped him before suddenly...

"POTZBLITZ, BAUER! DU VERDAMMTER SCHEIß FREIKÖRPERSCHWULE, WO BIST DU JEZTZ?", came the booming query. Despite the rude nature of the call, the tone held no hostility. Merely it was loud and thunderous, awakening the Church. "Make yourself useful and get your head out of those motion pictures - Scour the place with your magicks, I'll join you in a minute.", he announced as he shouted into the building before taking another drag of his cigarette. For just a moment more, he'd cherish the peaceful night and the stars above. Soon, he'd be buried again beneath his duties.

@Angry Hungarian

Christians.

They suffered under Roma, flourished under Roma, grew strong through the adversity of Roma. The church with a name holding the meaning of universal was born during the time of the Empire that encompassed all. Perhaps, in retrospect it was natural for Christianity to spread and grow where Roma faded. The relation between the empire and that religion was a mixed one, and indeed, it was the Romans who executed the son of god as taught in their doctrine. Saber found the blame turned towards the Judaiac folk amusing in a sense, but he was no learned scholar or priest. In the end if asked his opinions on the teachings that spread across the globe he would simply comment that he respected the convictions of its many martyrs. Ironic because of, or perhaps especially because of the fact that he took the form of a Lion, the executioner of Christians back in the Empire. Respect and love, hate and scorn. It did not matter, if the Fourth were to stand against him and become an obstacle he had to protect his master from then he would execute him as though a beast of the past.

He had arrived too late. One minute at his maximum speed. Fifty seconds too late. What was the point of a patrol if they could not reach each other even when not shackled by the limits of the modern world? There was only one he could protect simply by virtue of existing, and he felt the life of Rider slip through his fingers. A strange man, a man who did not talk with at length. An ally, a man he was meant to protect and save.

He did not know failure in his life. He had lost battles, he had suffered wound and troubles. He did not fail for Roma stood, his master still stood. This was merely the loss of a battle. He did not succeed, but he felt a failure in the sense of not being able to protect the well-being of the goal of his master.

Arriving to the scene that held a lamenting man who buried his grief he swiftly realized the fact that the battlefield, the manor was abandoned. Saber materialized as he watched Emmerich work for a few moments, approaching only when he had opened up the manor with his own tools.

Without a sound Emmerich was pulled back with a large hand before he charged into the manor. He had no doubts that even in such a moment that the soldier noticed his presence, especially considering Saber had no intention of hiding it. There was merit in letting one vent out their grief, but a soldier especially should not be coddled no matter the circumstance.

“Let us go in together.”

The home was surprisingly bereft of anything that seemed relevant to the war, save for gold that tried to stain those around it with its influence. Yet the splendor of gold was outshined by the glow of a hero, and with the help of his own abilities the soldier was able to avoid exposure as well.

Something dangerous, and something to take with them in case the enemy had plans for it, as he agreed with his master after consulting her opinion.

It was a normal home in comparison to the ragtag workshop and military base of the Church. He wondered if Rider found it disappointing he died fighting at ground that seemed so divorced from the nature of conflict. To Saber it was a worthy place to protect, one’s home, one’s ancestral land as he understood it with the position of these Tohsakas in relation to this city.

From the earlier reports he knew that there was no contact with the enemy, yet the presence of the enemy was confirmed, both servant and master. The man of the church did not fight or even observe the enemy. The enemy had run and abandoned their ground and home.

…

This was their Roma, and they had left it without a fight. How shameless, how unsightly. Cowardly, cowardly to the greatest degree! To watch Rider fight and perish, then decide that their Roma was not even worth the effort of protecting. No, in the first place they did not even see if they would even need to defend it. So fearful of the man of the church, so fearful of fighting, so fearful for their lives that they abandon everything but the next breath that they take.

Mighty Porsena, mighty Porsena with the large armies of the Etruscans cowed his fellow men at the bridge. Yet the Romans still fought, only breaking into chaos with their leaders struck down. Their mistake was the fear that they had failed, that the time for their victory had past.

So long as one lived there was always a path. So long as he was alive he could hold off the bridge for the sake of Roma. Against an army he fought and against an army he would fight once more without hesitation. It was never over, never truly over.

Saber made one promise to himself that day and it was to never despair. No matter what if something is precious one had to fight for it. No matter the cost one had to protect it.

What did these Japanese protect then? He had thought them those who banded together to protect their land from their foes and invaders, protecting their wish and homes.

What value did these magi hold? What convictions did they have? He found himself disgruntled, annoyed.

As Emmerich prepared to say his goodbyes to the Manor of the Tohsakas, what little of value taken out to be brought back by the two he found himself hoping that the Matou would show themselves to be more worthy of respect.



He later found it that it would not be the case. The manor felt empty in a sense, the sense that there was no great presence that he knew to be their equal, a peer as a spirit or hero. It was possible that Assassin was around, but… This time the master was not even present then.

@Shioban

"With a man such as you a man such as me would have never been needed, Archer.”

A hero was only needed when the army and general could not overcome their foes. While Archer was no less a ‘hero’ the kind of hero they were happened to be very different. The hero who made up for the lack of virtue of the army. The hero who commanded and honed the power of the army.

Yes, indeed. When it came to the matters and powers of man they had no lack.
But if only if it could be said that men were all that fought in this war.


@Angry Hungarian
I've been quite useful, quite useful all this time thank you very much. I've been talking to our beneficiaries after all. Would you honestly believe we could win on our own against the creators of this ritual in their hometurf, especially when they have the support of their nation? If you sensibly disagree with such a notion then badger me not. As it is the greatest danger to us is our dear own Schutzstaffel that you yourself belong to, so I’d rather not you have any attitude. It was your lost of Rider that’s causing that issue in the first place!" He was more harsh with Emmerich than Jancika in retrospect. The lack of involvement in this incident, and the build up of a long day causing his tongue to hold his ground quite sternly and unkindly.

Nipping thoughts of anxiety plagued him, but he suppressed them with ease. A magus was one who remade themselves for different needs, for they themselves were the means to achieve the ends they enacted upon the world. He was calm, he was proud. Continuing to carry himself in his grandiose way he lifted his right hand, a massive ruby that caught the lights of the church, and reflected them like a kaleidoscope that revealed all the possibilities of red, of war. “I’ve been at thought, and I have figured out a way to make my talents relevant for our war. Fraulein Frederica’s aid is something I’ll be reliant on for it… but it is a elegant enough solution to the matter of my contribution.”

Without skipping a beat he let his hand fall to his side and spoke with redoubled energy. The ruby disappeared from sight as he moved the conversation along before the question of what he’d be contributing was raised beyond the vague details he had shared with the soldier before. The Ruby was stowed away and his hand rose back up to this time invite Emmerich.

“It has been a long day, a very long day for all of us. But it is not over yet. I expect and hope the two women to perform well enough to make up for what blunders we have made as a whole, or rather I can only plan around that. Further failure cannot be accepted, for further failure simply brings the end of our lives, as Germans, Magi and of course, as actual lifeforms.”

He shook his head. “We cannot slack, so let us get to work. You can eat after we’ve searched. Of course I’ll have Harriegilta help us. If anything she might recall something. I’m sure it is here in the church. Where else can we look after all?”

Turning away from Emmerich he retreated to begin his search somewhere secluded, somewhere alone... somewhere he could simply be without any eyes upon him.

Menial. This task could only be called menial. Yet it was vital to their success, it was vital to their survival. In the face of that to be stubborn was even more disgraceful. Annoyingly he felt as though he could hear the questioning thoughts of his allies. Why was he here other than to simply supply Archer with an anchor and energy? Why was he chosen as the one who came, why is he the user of the tool?

Perhaps they would only see his current use as one who could do such a rudimentary search. How annoying, if he had know that the future had a battle in it for him then he should have learned a few more basic tricks. He pursued simply what was important, simply what would further his family’s efforts and bring salvation. Even if he would be seen as harmless or useless because of that he felt no regrets.

But that didn’t mean he felt nothing about it either way.

@Shioban
"Archer, while the tale of the results of Rider against the Burial Agent proves that a delay in the usage of a Command Spell is fatal, and our current situation adds to such, it is best you still keep me updated. If I see fit I shall pull you out or support you with a spell as necessary."

He let out a sigh before taking a breath, preparing as though he were speaking out loud before calling out to Archer with his mind. "You will be given relative freedom for this venture. Try not to create a crater, but prioritize survival and success over the Manor. Sieg Heil Viktoria, Archer."

With Archer not so close to the enemy, moving with an ally, and not cooped up in a church he felt much more confident about the chances of his Servant in combat. But still to not be there was admittedly both a relief and a source of worry, all the more so with every word he heard of the tale of Rider's end.

With a bad day that only got worse and worse, he felt himself feeling an odd mix of discontentment, anticipation, hope and dread. Frankly if he wasn’t in his own position he’d be feeling a lot of schadenfreudian for whoever was in his shoes.

Now where could it all be...

Regrettably, they had lost a Servant. Perhaps most frustrating, though, was what they had gotten in exchange. They had not harmed the enemy, their plundering of the Tohsaka Manor with a couple of potential exceptions was fruitless, and perhaps most annoyingly, they came away with no knowledge of Rider's killer besides "Burial Agent, strong, big hammer, summoned a horned girl".

Needless to say, Frederica was more than a little miffed, but managed to keep it from showing in her interaction with Emmerich after returning. The poor bastard had just lost his Servant, after all, no need to lash out at him when he was doing plenty of that on his own already.

This had only further affirmed her prior plans. They had lost a Servant, in addition to the structural disadvantages they had entering this war. Sure, she and her sister could always defect to the other faction, but where was the fun in that? Instead, it was much more interesting to think about how to improve what they had.

And that was precisely why she now sat inside of a golden ship that lay on the Church's land under the cover of night, surrounded by her ever-wonderful golem guards as she worked. She was the only one who could do something like this, after all, who could improve the device that Thule had given them in this particular way. And so, she worked, blocking out the other members of her team as she did. It was likely that only her sister would be able to get her attention at this point, though perhaps her partner would have a chance as well.

Hopefully the Burial Agent wouldn't smash this too right after she finished improving it.

---

---

---

It was entertaining, one could say, that a lion had been the one to stroll into the lion's den.

---

I will make a more beautiful world.

I will make a world where nobody has to cry.

I will eradicate All The World's Evil.

I will create a utopia.

To create a utopia, I must live.

I want to live.

I don't want to die.

It's painful. It's painful. It's painful.

I don't want to die.

Grant. Grant. Grant. Grant. Grant.

I don't want to die.


This time, it shall be fulfilled.

This time, the pursuit will end.

This time, a miracle will occur.

Such is the declaration of a man who loves humanity.

Such is the declaration of the hero of this world.

Such is the declaration of the last king of Fuyuki.

Such is the declaration of-

---

"Ahh, a magus and a Servant, with another lurking outside. Welcome, welcome. What a nostalgic feeling for these old bones. But, surely you should know better than to so brazenly charge into a magus's workshop?"

A voice cut through the darkness. A voice that reeked of age and power, a voice that did not seem even slightly perturbed in the presence of two beings at the class of Ghost Liners. A sharp, piercing laugh flowed through the halls of the house. One could visualize its owner shaking his head, a bemused grin playing at the edges of his lips.

"After all, is a magus's workshop not where they are at their strongest?"

Shapes moved outside of view, undulating within the darkness. Black, an impenetrable black stretched out before Janika and Cocles, the light sounds of a chittering few insects and the oppressive feeling of wrongness being their only company besides the voice. Neither Janika throwing out threads of consciousness nor the Servants using their senses would avail the darkness; there was the presence of "something" interspersed throughout the walls of the manor, but beyond that it was blank. And yet, the voice did not seem concerned in the slightest. So then, why, what gave this unseen magus that level of confidence?

"You will have to excuse my rudeness for the lack of decoration. If I had known you were coming, I would have at least rolled out a rug. Regardless, come in, come in. I will attempt to be a gracious host. I am afraid it is merely the two of you and myself, though, unless your friend outside would care to join us as well. I apologize if you were expecting a proper banquet, but I'm certain we can make do."

"If you're looking for that young boy, Youzai, I apologize for that as well. You are merely met with my aged self. Do not worry, though; it has been quite some time, but I'm sure my ability to entertain guests hasn't diminished."

She had not ripped into Emmerich the moment he had come back.

She liked to think that that showed her restraint as it was, really. The man had already seemed so stricken by the death of his own Servant that there was little a verbal lashing would do at this point. He understood the humiliation and the grave situation it had left them in, all to come back with so little, and she really could not fathom why he had not just ordered Rider back with that Command Seal he had used, or why that fool of a Servant had not urged something similar, but in the end, she guessed that was just how they were.
So now, with both Emmerich and Brauer indisposed and her sister working on her own little projects, it fell to her to scout this manor. She dearly hoped it would go over better than the last one, but one never knew what the representative or whatever Servant he had summoned hid under their sleeve, although she liked to think her little desire was not a particularly high bar to clear.

The house itself was Western in style, but what caught her attention the most was the heavy atmosphere around it, as though the moment she stepped within, it would be like stepping in a different world. A small part of her, a part she tended to ignore, thought that perhaps coming here was not such a bright idea.

She merely tempered the trepidation with trust in Saber and Archer to pull through. So it was that she strode cautiously, but decisively, into the old manor and the darkness that laid within.

There is probably a saying about lambs that walk willingly into the slaughterhouse.

The oppressive atmosphere redoubled in potency now that she was within alongside Saber, almost like a physical thing, a weight bearing down on her shoulders. Her eyes darted around, looking for something she could not see, trying futilely to pierce through the darkness.
As the voice spoke, Saber's figure was one of the few things that gave her a measure of comfort at this point in time.

Striding forward, however, she had her own part to act out, and refusal of it was never an option to begin with. Moving to stand just a step in front and to the left of Saber, her eyes narrowed yet again, unable to perceive anything.

In the end, she could only weigh in the words and answer as well she could.
"Excuse our intrusion, though, to be frank," She started to speak, keeping her voice level and her cane resting peacefully at her side. "I did not quite expect someone not Matou Youzai to greet us, if there was to even be a greeting to begin with, no. I would have thought most, if not all the other family members, whoever they might be, would have already left until the war was over. . .not a particularly unwise move, I would say."

She spoke with a firmness that perhaps surprised even herself in spite of the shivers that ran down her back as whoever it was that had decided to play host spoke. She was an Edelfelt, and she could not show anything but this to any outsider.

"I do not fault you for the lack of any display, however. I admit, this was a rather rushed meeting," Keeping her ears peeled for even an inkling of any other surprises, she continued her speech unimpeded, surprisingly enough. "It would be terribly gauche of me to ask for tea in this situation, I believe. Speaking of, my manners must have been failing me. . .Janika Edelfelt, at your service. Would the host do us the honors of a proper introduction? It is only polite."

He smile, sweet like honey, was as much of a façade as any airs she put on, but the belief in proper manners was indeed genuine. After all, for all that had happened, she had still been raised an aristocrat. At the very least, this much was the norm.

"Worry not for entertainment however. If I am to be honest, we did not come here seeking any particular trouble as our primary goal. Of course, had Matou Youzai been here, we would have attempted to kill him and would have expected the same in turn, but I cannot say you, whoever you might be, gracious host, figured in any plans. With you, I have no particular quarrel," She paused for a second, her smile stretching just a touch. "Though I can understand the principle of defending one's home, so if we must do this, I would not begrudge you for it. . .although it would be a shame. I do enjoy conversations more."

@Over Illusion@Yukitamas@MeteorD

---

Blue eyes tiredly regarded the specialist of the group from the moment he came into sight. Emmerich bobbed his head along as his companion surged forth from their new home and began his monologue. However, he remained similarly wordless for the remainder of the discussion - The officer couldn't help but consider Bauer a bit too gushy at times. Even now the man already left, not even sparing a single moment after waving around some expensive jewel and mentioning food. What the devil was a "Harriegilta" anyways?

"... Alright, Bauer, I'll be with you soon. And take your Pervitin, damn it, we'll never get this done otherwise!", he uttered effortlessly after the magus thundered away. In no time he was outside comfortable speaking range, much to the displeasure of Emmerich."If you want a break, I've stocked my beers in the cellar. Help yourself to the bottles, just be easy on the dunkelweiß - That one's a favourite." The friendly shout traveled down between the pews of the church in a bid to reach the escaping Bauer without being too much of an offense on his ears.

As the front door of the church shut behind the blonde german, the officer left outside alone once more exhaled a could of smoke. Blue eyes bore onto the night, suspiciously gazing into the starry void before a flickering gaze turned to the rifle hanging from his shoulder - Bayonet fixed and safety lock off, not that either would do anything to their expected attackers. Still, Emmerich could only mumble away a chuckle. "Front door. Rifle. Standing... Guard duty. I can't remember last time I had guard duty, heh." The pleasant little chortle wore off as soon as it came. The cigarette upon his smiling lips was soon to be completely burned away and so he decided to spend his last few seconds with something useful. After a mental link established to his colleague, his voice quietly rung out. Almost paternal in nature, the officer suppressed his genuineness with an air of mild professionalism.

"Bauer.", came his first word. A long pause ensued, Emmerich tried to figure out how to best confront his fellow. As forehead wrinkled and the last of his smoke finally extinguished, the lanky man chose to approach with honesty. They were both men of advanced age, after all. Sugarcoating things would be ever so unvölkisch. "Something bothers you, I can tell." The statement, firm in determination yet ripe with worry, was quickly off-set by the officer adding another line. "... Remember the nature of our mission. If you want to talk, I'm here for you - Tomorrow there may not be another chance for it."

@Art of Fun @Over Illusion @Yukitamas

---

Stheno had decided to act mostly on her own accord. Summoning Heroic Spirits as familiars to do your bidding was a risk-filled option, summoning a Divine Spirit to do so was likely to result in disaster. However, Stheno herself had remained fairly docile throughout the events, but the lack of progression from their members even within a single day was reason enough to bore the Goddess.

She had located one of the Edelfeldt Masters at a shop in Shinto. As suspected, she had shown no signs of detecting her presence, but Stheno took this as a matter of fact rather than anything else. Had she not wielded power beyond that of mortals throughout her existance, it is likely that she would have grown intoxicated from the abilities which even the class container for Assassin had bestowed upon her. Naturally, that included the enhanced senses which allowed for her to overhear the discussion that took place between the Edelfeldt Master and what sounded like an ally. The device used to communicate the message was known to her. Truthfully, she was surprised that there had been no mental link to communicate the message.

'Partner. It appears Rider may perhaps have been eliminated. The actions seem to have been by an individual named, no, titled 'Burier'.' She didn't waste any further time on relaying the message, instead taking the oppritunity to follow them as they travelled along the streets of Shinto. What an utter disappointment. The enemy Servant, a target designated for them, had been taken out by someone else. Even though she herself could hardly bear with the progress they had made on their own, having a valuable asset be taken out in the first day was still something significant even in her eyes. Their own victory seemed all but set in stone. Loss through arrogance was a common thing to the heroes of the past, but the idea of her thinking too highly of herself and their position was simply inconcievable to her mind.



The Church. Once more she would return to this den of insolent fools reminder of the oppositions questionable behaviour. Of course, the Edelfeldt had wandered along with the invisible Servant. No doubt it was Saber, the one class most feared in this ritual. Caution was to be expressed at all times when handling such a foe, but Stheno simply carried herself with the usual demeanor, peeking out curiously to listen in on any communications that may be incoming.

'It is a shame that this Master is not a male. I am hopeful that Saber is at least. After all, the German faction would simply fall apart if their only Servant is an Archer who has to retreat from an Assassin, kufufu~' The joys from her previous existance was something any greedy woman would wish to experience. Commanding brave heroes, sending them to their deaths at the wave of your hand. If the German faction had yet to retreat to them, then surely he would be worth bringing to their side. 'Is it not unfair? For a Saber to hide himself from the eyes of onlookers, I can't help but see it as cowardly.' Her complaints were petty and childish, feeling that she herself should be the only one allowed to employ these methods.



'... Partner?' With eyes more precious than gemstones, her gaze travelled up the golden ship, her smile spreading a toxic joy through her body. 'This ship. Get it for me, would you not?'

Unsettling. It was an unease that brought a perturbed feeling to most. Not to Saber. He wondered which brought the black. Which came first with the overbearing darkness that seemed to be a blackness that would stand as a firm opposition and enigma even in the face of the light of heroes in these halls. Was it the man who spoke, or was it the land itself that was seeped into this sense of oddity. The old voice, did it reflect the land or did the land and manor reflect it?

Yes to fight in a magus's workshop, to fight in a soldier's hometown. It was in defending what was precious to them, to fight where they were the most connected to their own origin and identity. A magus was a magus because of what they toiled towards and created in their workshop. A soldier was a soldier because they fought for the sake of their nation.

This was the Roma of the Matous, the place where they would most be the Matous.

“That is indeed true. All are complete, their strength waxed when they are at a place they leave part of themselves, whether it be their ambition or heart. We have brazenly intruded, your words are correct. My master did not propose an alternative idea, but I shall admit truthfully I wished for such a trespass. A challenge let us say. I wished to see the mettle of the Matou, of the Japanese for what we have seen of the Tohsaka is lacking, disappointing. I feel no servant, nor do we feel a master. But there is someone here, there is someone who will declare this is their home. You are different from the one who fled without a challenge."

His words bellowed into the darkness like a tangible roar which held a firmness that was at odds with the oppressive and murky pressure of the world so separate from the world of the city of Fuyuki. Almost like an alien presence, inserted into the home of the Founding Family, the roars of the lion clashed with the chattering of insects.

It was hard for Saber to understand and judge magi.

Self-suggestion, the art of hypnotizing and changing one’s self in accordance to the chances they enacted externally. Something as fundamental as that was part of what Saber had come to understand, and was told of in what his master had shared of her sister.

A magus could change themselves, prepare the existence of a persona that was a heartless machine that carried out a singular process, create a face that would mingle with and charm normal humans, or reach a state of enlightenment and nothingness that transcended the world.

A malleable existence, so different from the servants that were records of the past completed and captured. Yet even without considering that Saber was a man who lived earnestly, dedicating his entirety of being to one life and one being.

He was the Lion of Rome.

What were they?

What was this ancient man whose voice echoed with an age that seemed beyond any magus he would have expected.

What was the woman who stared into the halls, whose eyes held a wish for the darkness to be revealed as something else. She was a regal mistress and a frightened lamb. But that was the expression of a lady, and that of a human even through the lens of the life of a magus.

What was she, really? He could not feel it, he does not know. What is the nature of the Roma he protects?

Despite his desire and curiosity he kept his attention focused on the presence, and the void in the manor. The threat that was not there, the threat that was already there. His duty to protect his master came first, but still…

“I am Saber, the blade of my master. I ask who we speak to. I ask who has stayed behind, and who welcomes us in the stead of the one whose duty should bring them here, the master.”

An entertained laugh washed through the dark halls in response to the Master and Servant.

"Edelfelt? Ah, it's been quite some time since I've spoken with one of you. To see that regality, and to see that you've separated from your other half to come here, times have indeed changed." The unseen magus remarked, a droplet of self-deprecation embedded in his tone. "It is wrong for me to not name myself when you have done so. Matou Zouken. It has been long since I retired, so you can consider me a groundskeeper of sorts. As you no doubt are aware, I am not one of the seven Masters. Or rather, I suppose it's eight, given that the Edelfelts are here. It's actually quite gratifying, the system was never actually built with the consideration of 'two Masters as one' in mind, but it seems to have adapted rather well."

"At any rate, my aged self can no longer fight, so I've left the stage to my descendants." He admitted, though in spite of his words, there was not an ounce of fear in his voice. Rather than someone facing down a member of one of the most notorious magus families in the world, and two beings who could match the strongest humans lurking in the modern day, he sounded more akin to a man ordering a breakfast pastry at his local bakery.

"If you simply would like to converse, then I will of course oblige as a host. As you've said, your enemy is Youzai; while I have a fondness for my children, it is not the place of the old to interfere in the squabbles of the young. Even I was willing to, though, it is not as though these brittle bones of mine could stand up to a Servant, much less two." Another laugh laced his tone, though this time it sounded almost mocking. Whether that notion was meant to be leveled at himself or the intruders, though, was up for debate. However, when he spoke next, that mirth seemed to abate slightly; it was still present, his tone never becoming truly "tense", but there was a new steel in it.

"There is nothing in this home for you. There are no resources to plunder, no Servants to defeat, no fallen leylines to leech off of. I thus hope we do not come to hostilities, as they would be pointless. This is not my fight, after all."

Abruptly, the air of the mansion seemed to change. It was not merely some semantic shift, but rather it truly felt like the space of the mansion had grown more abrasive to exist in, as if the workshop itself was little more than an extension of this "Zouken's" body.

"...with that said, I am the groundskeeper nonetheless. If you seek to do to this home of mine what your allies did to the manor of Tohsaka, if you seek to try and plant your flag into this soil, then you will be forcing my hand to mark you as an enemy. For the sake of all those here, I hope that this does not happen. This old man might not have much fight left in him, but he's been around for quite some time. You pick up a few tricks after so long."

"There is no worry of that, and there is no need for that."

A direct response born solely of Saber. Where most of the time he allowed to be driven by the commands of his master, even if he in turn forced her to make a firm decision or suggested the course of her action, Saber addressed the elder of the Matou himself as an individual rather than a familiar or warrior. Part of it was his annoyance, and the relief that abated it of the lack of presence of the Japanese.

Even if the master was not here there was one who would remain and not simply let their Roma be pillaged and destroyed.

"There is no need to fight, it is as you say. Yet the fact that you are willing to fight brings me satisfaction. I do not approve that in a battle such as this the representative is not here and has essentially abandoned their home, but I disapprove of one who stays in their home only to flee at the first sign of danger even more."

Saber contemplated the darkness. Yes, it was unsettling, and the form of the magus still eluded him, both physical and in a more abstract sense. But what little he could sense, what little he could see. Despite the disturbing and foreboding presence that this Zouken gave there was more to approve of than a frightened youth and their folly.

Magi are hard to understand.

Magi are strange.

Magi can be surprising.

"Precious things should be protected, things are precious because we protect them and offer ourselves as sacrifice and risk in their stead. The Tohsaka clearly did not value their home dearly, then is there any right to complain when it has been lost? It is as you say, there is nothing for us to steal away or destroy. Yet there is something for you to protect. One could not hold more of a reason for peace. But I shall leave things to my master."

Perhaps it was unfair to speak his own heart before entrusting the decision, to make so clear his own stance. But that was the cost for bringing a hero as a familiar, one who was a tool and yet more than a tool. For even the most dutiful servant had a wish and their own will. It was their strength, and perhaps their folly.

D1 - p4

---

Rider, eliminated. That was certainly one way to start the next two weeks.

He listened to Assassin's comments, smiling all the while. It was interesting to hear about the world from her perspective-- it was certainly not a perspective one would call common. There was a novelty to normality, but he was not born into normality.

While she did her work, keeping an eye on their enemy, Saizou did his own. He brushed down his uniform, ridding it of any crinkles, and adjusted his hat. Maybe this meeting would be unnecessary, maybe their foe simply wasn't worth the effort, but it would be foolish to not make full use of his position.

After minutes of waiting outside of a screen door, it finally opened to reveal his host, sat in a kneel at a table. A young man not a few years older than himself. Assuming permission, Saizou stepped in, bowed, and then took his own kneeling position at the table.

"Fujimura Raija. It is an honour to finally put a face to a name," Saizou said, bowing his head to the young man sat across from him. "In my time in this city, I have heard about you and your people. You do good work, I am told."

Yakuza. Saizou had no negative thoughts for them, not off the bat at least. His own family was hardly any better, nor much worse. They simply dealt in different matters.

"Sgt. Nanaya Saizou," He said, a slight smile making its way onto his lips. "I hope for a productive discussion."

While he introduced himself to Raiga, his vision was actually focused on Stheno, peering through her eyes. The ship she had spied was not like anything he had seen before.

'I would gladly acquire it for our sakes, but... I find myself unsure of what it is. I had figured our foe would have tools at their disposal, but this is beyond my expectations,' He communicated to Stheno, keeping a pleasant face up for Raiga all the while. 'Do be careful, Assassin. We have no idea what tricks that thing may have.'

Yes, this was the first development that, in Saizou's opinion, required an extra degree of caution. Servants and Masters were to be expected, but some sort of golden craft? A bit unusual. It was unlikely to belong to a Servant if it was just being left out for Assassin to see. 'A curious thing. Do you recognize it at all, Assassin?'

A shot in the dark, but one worth taking. The worst that could happen is that she says no.

Kneeling before the table was a young man who looked scarcely older than Saizou himself. If one were to try a pin an age to his face, they likely wouldn't pick one any higher than the early twenties. In spite of that, though, the man opposite Saizou had a sort of presence and energy about him beyond his years, which was almost in the opposite direction of Saizou's own nature. Put simply, if the lad of the Nanaya was a mind within a weapon, then Raiga was a weapon within a body.

"The honor is all mine, sergeant. I'm not sure if you drink, but feel free to, if you like." He replied, a simple grin emblazoned across his face as he gestured to the sake that had been arranged for the two's meeting.

He analyzed the member of the military with a keen eye. A youth younger than even Raiga himself, but one who emanated a nature that it seemed ridiculous for one who had not yet reached their eighteenth birthday to possess. Had this become the standard for the military all of a sudden? Certainly not.

While the notion that Saizou was, at the current time, peering through the eyes of someone on the opposite end of the city never entered Raiga's mind, there was nonetheless something a touch odd about the look of the boy's eyes. That thought, "his eyes look like they're somewhere else", couldn't enter his mind with such precision, but there seemed to be something off.

"I must say, though, we were all rather surprised when you reached out. We haven't done much with the military in the past. Fuyuki's a fairly calm place, not a lot happens here that's worth your time...or, at least, that's what I would say normally."

Rumors of something strange happening at the foreign church across the city, an explosive set off at the residence of the Tohsaka family with the Tohsakas themselves nowhere to be found, and on the same day as these two occurrences, a member of the military police approaches his group. These events couldn't be mere coincidence, that much was certain.

"My associates and I are admittedly usually a bit lax in our actions, but it seems that something's happening in this sleepy town of ours. I won't ask you to confirm this much, but I'd guess that whoever was responsible for blowing up the Tohsaka place has some relation to why you're here. Never dealt with the Tohsaka much, myself, but they're genuine people. Whether someone decided to target them, or whether they just decided to hit one of the nicer places in the city, that's the sort of thing we can't exactly let slide as Fuyuki residents."

A dry laugh left him, the young man shrugging haplessly. "Of course, maybe I'm reading into things too much. I can do that every so often." He remarked offhandedly, though they were clearly empty words. "Enough of my yammering, I'm sure you'd rather we focused on the matter at hand: what brings someone of your position to my humble association?"

"I see, I see." Her voice rang out through the darkness. And she did, really.

It would have been something disgusting had the magus, Matou Zouken, decided to simply give away this place without fighting if it was his family's ground. Disgraceful, even. In that regard, both Saber and she were of the same mind, though perhaps not for the same reasons.

Protecting what is yours, not allowing others to take what is yours. They sounded similar on the surface, but differed at their core. Just as those of higher station were obligated to aid those of lower ability, so too were they obligated to punish those who had the gall of attempting to take something from them. It was not a desire to protect, but rather, a will to keep. To her, the idea of standing idly by while others would attempt to ransack one's home spoke of nothing but weakness, in terms of character if not in capacity.

So then, it was fortunate their host could see eye to eye with them on that matter.

"Ah, yes, the Tohsaka's housing. . .no, we have not come to do anything of the sort," Keeping her placid smile in place, she tried to reassure the magus that hostilities would not be required in this case. While she would not have wasted breath on Matou Youzai, she had been genuine when speaking of her lack of personal quarrel with this individual, attacking first when the host had been rather gracious considering the circumstances would be simply barbaric. "Truth be told, I was unaware he'd do something like that to their grounds, as well. . .but I suppose one can also understand the need to deny enemies of any possible advantage, and that includes ease of access and hold over a fallen leyline. . .even if I think that his decision was more guided by his own emotions than proper, thought-out planning." Clicking her tongue, voice containing just a touch of disapproval concerning the actions of her ally, there was nonetheless acceptance.

What was done, was done. No sense in crying so much over spilled milk, and even if Emmerich had acted rashly, at least it could prove beneficial to them still.

"We only came here to ah. . .scout out the area. Had we found nothing, we would have left easily enough, and as you say, this house does not particularly call to us as a strategic position, so there was no need to do anything. I am not petty enough to destroy a family's home when my quarrel is so specific as this one and it would gain me nothing."

Pausing, she considered her next words. Certainly, they had not been prepared for this, but at the same time, it was not bad. At the very least, considering the earlier rushes of the day, a calm talk under a proper roof, even if she could not actually see her partner in the conversation, was not a change of pace she particularly minded. It certainly helped that the man seemed rather reasonable in how he handled things. . .although his confidence, or at least lack of fear about the prospect of facing Servants, was odd in its own way. Did he trust the Matou Master and his own Servant to come if they poised to threaten him? Did he perhaps possess confidence in his ability to such a seemingly suicidal extent?

Or was it maybe just bravado to make them reconsider?

Ah, well, not like putting on airs in front of guests was something she was unfamiliar with, herself, and she trusted both Saber and Archer, although perhaps she should make the midnight chat shorter than she had anticipated. The worst case scenario that lurked in her mind was that of the Japanese faction taking them by surprise here and now -- although she wondered if Youzai could make others except his own Servant move for what was an unremarkable position outside of being his own home. Nonetheless, she would have to be cautious.

They would have to take their leave soon. But for the moment. . .

"I see, however, that you are familiar with my name and what it carries. A pleasant surprise. . .although I cannot recall either my mother or anyone else in my family mentioning yours. Of all the families involved in the Ritual, only the Einzbern rang a bell," The Tohsaka had been a mere footnote, the Matou less than that. How odd, if he had met Edelfelts as he said. . .though perhaps he simply had not made enough of an impression. "Judging by the way you speak of it, however. . .I take it you are rather acquainted with the system? Although perhaps I should not be surprised about that being the case for members of any of the families. After all, you must take pride in it."