It was such short notice. Less than three months had been announced for this grail war. The letters going out, and the Masters seemingly appeared at random. But in a way, it seemed like anybody who had interest in the grail had become a candidate. In fact, with fourteen masters, an alliance had already been called out. The mysterious Dr. M himself claimed to have chosen the sides, ideologies and all that. In a way it seemed like they were playing a game of chess, and Emilia hated it. In fact, she'd spent the last three months relying on her sources to bring her the very object of an affection she'd held for a while. A servant she believed could win this war in a day. But this wasn't just a grail war of fourteen factions. In a way, she was worried.

She stood at the window of the Weber mansion, hands folded behind her back, while the land of Germany sprawled out before her. She gazed upon Berlin, and a breath escaped her lips. She adored it, from where she stood above the streets and looking out the window of her family home. In a way, she was thankful her long life allowed her to so often gaze upon the country, and its slow rising to power once more. "Is my cause noble?" She said, to the room and not to the man behind her. With two days left before the White Team would have to converge, she had gone ahead with her plan.
"Conquest is noble." The man said back, eyes boring into the back of her head.
"But I don't want conquest. I want the world to be... Just how I see it from this window."
"That, is conquest in and of itself." The figure took a step back, and he was silent again. She didn't look back, but Frau Emilia knew that he was watching in some way. A very judgmental servant if ever there was one.

On her desk sat a letter. And while she knew now it was the mysterious M, she couldn't help but wonder... What really brought them all together? At the very least, there was a location set. Bürgerbräukeller. The bar could be seen from her window. A brew hall where Adolf Hitler himself had stood, and the Nazi party had gathered. Where else could it begin?
-----------------------------------
1939... Sunday August 20th... 5 PM...

The beer hall was empty tonight. In a way it was just a testament to what was bringing all of them together. Emilia sat at the end of a long table, as her gaze drifted slowly from tapestry to tapestry. The place had been bought out for the night, and only a select few individuals were meant to arrive. Seven, herself included. The table stretched out, with food adorned for all of them. Some may already have their servants, others maybe not. But they would all be summoned in time for the war to begin.

__________________________________________________________________________


It wasn't raining anymore. In truth, it was finally starting to become a nice afternoon glow once more. But the puddles filled the streets, and in the industrial sector it seemed as if every inch there was a swimming pool waiting for you. All this wound be fine, with the letters they had all received didn't lead to some gutted location. The Clocktower of all things had taken a interest in this grail war, and it seems they had figured out who was involved before others. The letters alone made it clear that they would only survive by working together.

The building itself was nothing grand. Instead it was a hollowed out shell of a building. A former warehouse, with the ceiling torn wide open like a gaping wound. The rain had flooded the floor of the warehouse, with no drains to take it all away. Instead, the whole building seemed to be in a puddle. There was nobody there... Except, for a man with stark white hair, and the outfit of a gentleman.
"Welcome." He said, to the first person to enter. "Thank you for coming on such short notice."

The first day- no, night of the Holy Grail War. The concept wasn't completely foreign to Giovanna, as the ideal of "Magi fighting over a Holy Grail" was quite common. Even a bumpkin like her knew at least that much by virtue of being within the Holy See. Even that being said she barely understood what a magus was- a major disadvantage. Steel armor clanking with her stride, she made for the designated meeting area with due haste. Though it would probably be quite obvious how out of place she was to civilians, apparently Caster was concealing her presence.

Almost without thought, she kept her hand on her swords hilt at all times after entering the dank warehouse. A gentlemanly figure greeted her almost immediately upon her entrance. The Knight nodded wordlessly in response, before finding a suitable corner to loiter in until the other 6? "Masters" showed up. There really wasn't much for her to do at the moment, but any information about the Grail and the war around it would be useful to her. Giovanna took a moment to speak with Caster through their link, considering the lack of activity and eerie silence.

"Since we're waiting Archdeacon- what's a magic circuit?" A long wait it would be, so it would seem. Her first impression of Magi so far was that they liked to take their time. The Church wasn't wrong so far in painting them as unsavory people.

Team Black | Master - Giovanna

The first day- no, night of the Holy Grail War. The concept wasn't completely foreign to Giovanna, as the ideal of "Magi fighting over a Holy Grail" was quite common. Even a bumpkin like her knew at least that much by virtue of being within the Holy See. Even that being said she barely understood what a magus was- a major disadvantage. Steel armor clanking with her stride, she made for the designated meeting area with due haste. Though it would probably be quite obvious how out of place she was to civilians, apparently Caster was concealing her presence.

Almost without thought, she kept her hand on her swords hilt at all times after entering the dank warehouse. A gentlemanly figure greeted her almost immediately upon her entrance. The Knight nodded wordlessly in response, before finding a suitable corner to loiter in until the other 6? "Masters" showed up. There really wasn't much for her to do at the moment, but any information about the Grail and the war around it would be useful to her. Giovanna took a moment to speak with Caster through their link, considering the lack of activity and eerie silence.

"Since we're waiting Archdeacon- what's a magic circuit?" A long wait it would be, so it would seem. Her first impression of Magi so far was that they liked to take their time. The Church wasn't wrong so far in painting them as unsavory people.

“A Magic Circuit. Yes, indeed. A thing that is very important and very useful, and yet a thing that is something we should not know of.

As you yourself are one whose family works with the Eighth Sacrament you know very well how incorrect and heretical the practices of weaving miracles are. Yet in a sense they could be said to be what allows the entire process. There are some who liken them to an extra set of nerves. There are those who compare them to the various electrical wires that are the main facilitator of the movement of energy in this modern day.

It is through magic circuits that heretics encroach upon the domain of god. It is magic circuits that allow for magecraft. Of course, in the case of a blessed child of yours that is the reward for virtue your circuits are granted as a permission. Yet the theory in sense is, forgive me, the exact same. Although the composition likely differs. I will show you more examples when I make a homunculus in the future.”

Caster clasped his hands together and smiled. “In common perception, both in occultic lore and fables and stories a wizard casts a spell and shows his great power that is unbelievable and impossible for normal men, correct? Yet the truth in a sense is that no man truly casts magic. A magic circuit is more a connection to allow a spell to happen. You do not say that a wire brings the result of a machine, correct? Nor do you say that the electricity originates within the wire. A magic circuit is a converter for life energy into magical energy. In most cases that is the life energy of the world itself, Mana. Way more plentiful, permeating the environment. It is much better to make use of it than Od, the life energy of one’s self. It goes without saying that to utilize too much of one’s life energy is unwise. In the first place the amount of energy that you would end up with would usually be quite lacking in comparison. But there are times where you have utilized all the energy in your surroundings, or those gifted with great stocks of life energy.

Caster reached out to take a glass cup in hand, and nodded as he let magical energy flow through it. Even as a heretical Archdeacon, even as a servant he understood the most basic principles of a magus. As an example he was hardly wished to share mysteries. Magic was hardly a tool, and even the most advanced of magi or spellcasters rarely used their spells.

No, what Caster was doing was the most basic of things. The simplest element of utilizing magical energy, reinforcement.

“What we call spells are in a way a result brought forth by the world. A foundation, and a formula. To utilize spells is to create magical energy, and interface with a foundation through the means of self-hypnosis and knowledge. Foundations are engraved into the world through belief, and the formula could be said to be a specific spell.”

He dropped the glass, continuing to smile as instead of breaking on impact it simply fell with a number of thuds before rolling away. It landed against a outcropping of metal that was part of the skeleton exposed of the worn down warehouse. What should have completely shattered was not left with a single scratch.

“While this is not a matter of an actual magic, this is an application of magical energy to further fill out the meaning of an object. It’s called Reinforcement. It is perhaps a bit heretical to simply call sacraments a certain sort of foundation, and to equate it as magecraft… the simple fact is that there are proper things and improper things. For you it would be best to understand what comes of the disciplines and applications that are not barred to you. If you wish to learn more magecraft beyond the sacraments of our lord then I am not adverse to showing you further.”

He paused for a moment, a seeming moment of hesitation. Yet his smile never faded away, and in a sense there was some amusement in his words. The man who lived a pious life, the man who was dragged into the flames of passion and fell into darkness with Notre Dame. An Archdeacon who dabbled in sorcery and pursued various passions.

Perhaps he was curious to see what the woman would think of him. The tale of the Hunchback was one well-known, and it was in a sense the most eventful period of his life. Certainly it was what could be said to be the most dirtied part. Of passion, of desire, of a most dark fall.

A passionate man who secluded himself from society. A Deacon who turned to heresy, driven by a need to study and explore.

Yet there was no regret in his pursuit and in a sense he could only feel a deep something when he saw the gypsy woman hang. To be freed, liberated. Before that woman, that Esmerelda came he was simply content to pursue his knowledge, guided along a certain goal. He wrestled with his own demons with an iron-will and held himself to a standard of virtue that perhaps was part of what broke him. Oh, it all came tumbling down, tumbling down.

Thoughts of her were all that filled his mind. His entire being was set aflame in passion, in need. Love, hate, love, hate. Which was it really? Yes, he believed it was love, but perhaps it was a form of hate indeed?

Ah…

Yes.

It certainly was, something whispered.

Caster suddenly looked to his master after having stared into empty space for a few awkward and silent moments. “Ah, in the end you will find that for better or worse that I am a servant in the class of magic. As intended.”

Célestine Belmonte walked down a damp, empty street in the backwater neighborhoods of Berlin. She was going with purpose, determined to get somewhere only she and six- well, technically thirteen others knew about. At least, that's what she was guessing. One of them was close behind her, her Servant, a mighty Rider from long ago that history has misrepresented as a man. In fact, she was a woman, but no less of a conqueror. She made a good travelling companion, too, the voyage to Europe from America would've been hellish without company. The Frenchwoman turned down another side street, pulling a slip of paper from her coat pocket as she went. She looked at it briefly before dropping it back in and looking around for a street name. Soon, she nodded, confident that she was on the right track.

Several turns and straightaways later, Célestine and her Servant stood before a warehouse that had seen better days. Her better judgement demanded she turn around and pretend she hadn't just spent an hour searching for this apparent hellhole, but this was definitely the building described on the letter she had on her person as of right now. "Well Temujin, this could be the beginning of the end. I hope you're prepared," she said with a flat tone, a certain level of apathy in her words. Without waiting for a response, she stepped into the threshold.

While she walked into the flooded floor, she burnt a small amount of her magic to freeze the water underneath where she stepped, rendering her perfectly dry. While she found herself and her Servant somewhere to settle, she took a moment to examine the three others there. One was a a girl clad in plate armor, another had black and red robes that told of a mage of somesort... though the cross hanging from his neck was paradoxical in nature. Perhaps him and the armored girl were of the same faith, and one was Master and the other Servant. The odd one out was the young man in a blindingly white uniform, and she would've gone as far as to call him albino were it not for his blue eyes. Her stare lingered just a little too long before she wandered to an empty shipping container, then jumped up to it. She caught the lip with her hands then pulled herself up, after which she turned around and sat on the edge. She then beckoned for her Servant to join her. In a low tone, she addressed the Rider. "I don't like this, bringing seven Masters and Servants to one place can't end well." If she was nervous, her voice didn't betray her.

Faction: White | Servant: Unsummoned

Even accounting for the feeling of wonderment at leaving the country for the first time, the lights of this city were definitely more beautiful than those from his home. Nori Tohsaka ached for his paints, or at least an hour alone with his sketchbook, but he was in a hurry, trying to make up for the fact that he had taken the scenic route through the city on foot by moving at a brisk pace. He had only just arrived in the city recently, with no time to prepare-

For a moment, he felt a burning sensation. His eyes darted down and registered the red marking on the back of his right hand, some sort of pattern involving one crescent inside another. Quickly, he shoved his hands into his pockets.

That's probably a good sign.

The appearance of his Command Seals gave a newfound reality to the task at hand. He was here for the Grail, for now he was backing the side of the local government, but only one could claim the final prize, so he had to be wary around them. Nori further quickened his pace, arriving at the arranged beer hall. The description might have sounded comical, to make one's way into a huge open building, only to be greeted by a single old woman surrounded by food. There was not a trace of humour in the actual situation, however, as the woman in question, while old, lacked any trace of weakness or warmth, not to mention he could feel a uniquely overwhelming mana signature that gave away the presence of a Servant. The woman's gaze made the journey to the table feel very long, and in the end, he settled on a spot only just close enough to the head that he wouldn't have to raise his voice. He didn't go the extra mile to shake her hand, and he wasn't sure she'd appreciate it if he did. Instead, he stood behind the chair he had chosen and held up his right hand, with the back to her. "Good evening. Nori of the Tohsaka family, at your service." He bowed, "Unaccompanied, for now." He added before taking a seat.

He tried to catch a glimpse of the woman's hand over the table, to ensure this wasn't all some mistake. Then again, how could it be? "Such a large space. Do you have arrangements for summoning around here somewhere? The floor he could see looked clear, but the many tables could easily obscure decently-sized ritual circles.

^{Team Black | Servant - Rider}

Célestine Belmonte walked down a damp, empty street in the backwater neighborhoods of Berlin. She was going with purpose, determined to get somewhere only she and six- well, technically thirteen others knew about. At least, that's what she was guessing. One of them was close behind her, her Servant, a mighty Rider from long ago that history has misrepresented as a man. In fact, she was a woman, but no less of a conqueror. She made a good travelling companion, too, the voyage to Europe from America would've been hellish without company. The Frenchwoman turned down another side street, pulling a slip of paper from her coat pocket as she went. She looked at it briefly before dropping it back in and looking around for a street name. Soon, she nodded, confident that she was on the right track.

Several turns and straightaways later, Célestine and her Servant stood before a warehouse that had seen better days. Her better judgement demanded she turn around and pretend she hadn't just spent an hour searching for this apparent hellhole, but this was definitely the building described on the letter she had on her person as of right now. "Well Temujin, this could be the beginning of the end. I hope you're prepared," she said with a flat tone, a certain level of apathy in her words. Without waiting for a response, she stepped into the threshold.

While she walked into the flooded floor, she burnt a small amount of her magic to freeze the water underneath where she stepped, rendering her perfectly dry. While she found herself and her Servant somewhere to settle, she took a moment to examine the three others there. One was a a girl clad in plate armor, another had black and red robes that told of a mage of somesort... though the cross hanging from his neck was paradoxical in nature. Perhaps him and the armored girl were of the same faith, and one was Master and the other Servant. The odd one out was the young man in a blindingly white uniform, and she would've gone as far as to call him albino were it not for his blue eyes. Her stare lingered just a little too long before she wandered to an empty shipping container, then jumped up to it. She caught the lip with her hands then pulled herself up, after which she turned around and sat on the edge. She then beckoned for her Servant to join her. In a low tone, she addressed the Rider. "I don't like this, bringing seven Masters and Servants to one place can't end well." If she was nervous, her voice didn't betray her.

Temujin and her master had travelled a long course all the way to Berlin. While such long trips are normal for Mongolia's greatest Khan, being in such restrictive clothing makes her very uncomfortable, to hide her true identity as a servant, she is wearing a typical woman's clothing of the time. While inconvenient, at least it prevents her from sticking up like a sore thumb in the public.

Temijin observes the warehouse, contary to her master, she isn't engrossed at the at the level of disrepair of the building, she had lived in yurts all her life, this isn't any worse. What she agrees with is her is the shady nature of the this meeting. For all she knows is that the Holy Grail War is a battle royale, where only one will survive. But while Celestine is a bit pessimistic, Temujin is confident she can defeat them all with ease.

"Sending seven servants and masters in the same, enclosed space, only makes things easier for me to wipe out the opposition.", Temujin confidently replied.

She then looks at the other masters and servants. They appear to be very serious and tense as she far as she can tell, at least except to the armored master whose face is hiding behind an emotionless helmet. She looks at them with a smug in her face, confident that if something comes down, she is ready to counter.

With a quick shifting of metals, the entrance to the Black Team’s Provisional Base, hardly a shabby existence for a team taking on another with the resources of an entire nation behind them. Perhaps that could be considered their position as the underdogs in this war; an existence that hardly had the logistical ability to permit such grandeur presentations such as a bierhall feast, but that was simply the nature of their mission, and they had chosen to sign up for this.

Not that someone like Yuri would know any of this. Or would have signed up willingly for this without some sort of profit. But having been thrown into something he could not comprehend, it was not as if he could simply give up what he had been given.

Perhaps to the white-haired man, the person to enter was not listed in any of the documents he held on his person. It would have been impossible for anyone to grasp the entrance to this war. A person who had no reason to be here, yet seemed rather confident about being in this run-down factory, as if he knew this meeting was to take place. And with the entrance of this man of Slavic origins, clearly drunk despite night being a while away and the first glimpse of twilight filled the air.

“I’ll be damned, I guess this place did exist” his rather gruff, demanding of those who heard it. Regardless of his rather odd presence, his stumbling posture, and his somewhat slurred speech, he seemed to exude an energy that seemed to state he “belonged” here. He knew “something” was supposed to happen in this room.

While he was out of place, most of the other magi not having clear liquor stains on their dress, it appeared he did not show up as an antagonist to the Black Team. He seemed like no mage; at the very least he did not seem like the sort of person the association would send to fight against the Germans and their allies.

*record scratch*

*freeze frame*
Perhaps you were wondering why this man had appeared in place of the regularly scheduled clocktower lord? Well, let me start from the beginning.



It happened to be a rather standard day for someone in Yuri’s profession. After all, while he was a vagrant by all stretches of the imagination, this was by choice rather than circumstances. And for people in his profession … a “trafficker” of sorts. That was just a fancy way of saying “smuggler” of course, or at times even “thief”, but his current job seemed less complex than that.

According to the information he received on his client, Yuri knew him as some big-shot English nobleman and politician who claimed: “saving the world” and other such nonsense that Yuri didn’t care too much about. The good appeared to have been some sort of relic, perhaps wishing to donate it to a museum in a show of good faith, or more likely, a collector who would rather be seen dead than give up any amount of his possessions to those who needed it more.

A typical nobleman.

But this supposed image of the man was all in Yuri’s approaching drunken, or perhaps well past that point, head. All Yuri knew was that the man was several hours late from their predetermined meeting location and Yuri would be billing him for all the alcohol he had consumed already.

Suddenly, as if out of nowhere and appearing from thin air. A younger man than what Yuri first suspected him to be, he appeared to be a student hardly in his twenties rather than some sort of snobby, top hat wearing, dapper sort of nobleman he had expected. The more shabby clothing the man wore, meager compared to the idea that had been brought into Yuri’s fantasy seemed almost comical in retrospect.

“Greeting,” The man said to Yuri. He could hear this man rather clearly, but his voice never escaped more than a whisper. Perhaps the deal he was given was, in fact, shady like his previous dealings, but Yuri braved through those without too much hiccups. However, the man seemed to open up (in Yuri’s eyes) when he ordered two drinks for both himself and his courier.

“Don’t worry, my treat,” he said.

A sound as sweet as the autumn breeze. To someone who lived and drowned their regrets in the bottle, to get something without charge was clearly a change of pace.

“Do you have the delicate … thing ... I asked you to procure?”

Yuri thought that though he was the courier, he didn’t really know what it was that he was asked to bring. It was not his business snooping in other people’s personal purchases, and it wasn’t as if knowing whether it was stolen art or opioids or something.

“I suppose. Don’t really know what this … ‘thing’ would be, but I was given this package to give to you, Mr. Fairchild,” Yuri said, reading what it said was his name on the box.

“Please, call me Jeremiah,” he responded, taking a drink of the ale he had ordered in unison with Yuri.

“Don’t worry. Don’t worry. We are all friends here. I’d surely pay for a friend’s drink, no?” Jeremiah said, as he began to move towards where the barkeep was, spoke a few words to him, seemed to slip him a note of sorts, and the two nodded.

“See? No worries about that, you hear.”

And with that, the nobleman left, seemingly satisfied enough to pay for a few rounds of drinks he had not been a part of. So in the end, Yuri really ended up the winner. A light smile appeared on his face. Normally Yuri’s clients ended up being complete assholes that he would rather wish for another great war than run through hoops listening to their whims, but a quick, curious meeting was always preferable to one that ended in strife.

At least, that is what Yuri thought for but a few moments, before the bartender walked up and asked if he was ready to pay his tab.

“I was sure my friend was going to pay, no?”

“Well, your friend said you were going to pay since you owed him for that. He also said to give you this paper.”

As Yuri unraveled it, it simply said the following phrase that brought him into a near-frenzy that he almost thought he heard that smug Englishman’s laugh in his hysteria-driven insanity, storming out of the bar and refusing to pay the barkeep. Not that he was going to frequent this place anymore. He wanted out of Germany anyway, the strange looks his Slavic appearance seemed to get him on the street was something he wished to avoid anyway.

“Thanks for the Drink,” in plane letters was all that was written on the paper.

Normally, it would not be personal. But this - this was personal to the former Cossack. It would have to be a do, or die. And he was willing to bet he knew who would be doing which rolls.

With some “investigation”, also known as punching enough people and making them tell Yuri if they had heard or seen anything about a Jeremiah Fairchild, and eventually someone said he was in a nearby hotel. However, the amount of time it took to find this clue and the subsequent hotel took until the next twilight, the morning air warming compared to the nightly breeze, dew setting itself upon the land.

On the way there, Yuri began fantasizing about how he was going to mess that pretty boy's face so much that he’d better have money because no one will ever love him with that sort of face, but something strange had occurred when he had picked the lock to the door Jeremiah was supposed to be, but what he found was strange.

Perhaps if he had noticed it at first, he wouldn’t have lunged forward with his fist, bashing the back of this trickster’s head, a bit of his blood splashing the strange, glowing circle upon the floor. Jeremiah might have wished for a simple summoning, But that isn’t what had occurred, and the appearance of the Command Seals upon the hand of Yuri might have confirmed that if there was any attention placed upon this fact. But there was something that Jeremiah was attempting to pull out from his possession. Something that from Yuri’s various degrees of fighting in bars and other dubious situations.

A weapon.

A knife.

There was no way that

And suddenly, a flash of light appeared.

A great flash of power that metaphorically blew Yuri away as he shielded his eyes from the flash. Or at least, he would have, had he not been in a tussle with Mr. Fairchild. In the event it were to be a fair fight, and had Mr. Fairchild decided to perhaps notice the Slavic man enter the premise, but he had decided to summon his Servant before setting up a bounded field in his hurry to see if he could capture the Servant he desired with the piece of the roundtable as his catalyst.

The Knight of the Sun, Gawain, would be his first selected Servant. A magnificent Servant whose legend equated him to the mighty Lancelot in terms of combat.

A massive man stood in the center of the room, appearing, in Yuri’s lack-thereof knowledge of Magecraft, out of nothing. A beast who from Yuri’s perspective dwarfed all others. Not because of his height, though he was a rather large man, even taller than Yuri who reached around 185 cm, but rather because of a “feeling” that he comprehended. As if a sixth sense, he knew this man was something above what should be possible of a person.

He would have to fight against this new challenger as he came, as currently, he was fighting for his life as to prevent the dagger from being unsheathed, but the destruction of the man had allowed Yuri’s judgment to lax and to allow Jeremiah to get into his coat pocket and properly grasp the knife there. And Yuri understood it might be a bit more dangerous to follow through with his revenge plan than he had originally thought.

He expected the blood. He expected him to perhaps place the knife against his skin and flay it,

.But this did not occur.

Instead, he felt a gust of wind, and as he looked back up, he noticed that the strange, tall man who had appeared out of nowhere lifted Jeremiah by the neck and proceeded to pry the item out of his hands.

… Was he not on Jeremiah's side? At first sight of the second person and the knife, Yuri felt it would be hard to get out of this hotel alive. A suicidal, stupid action that would cause him to be found in the river a few weeks down the road, but this wasn’t the case.

The sly nobleman Jeremiah was squirming and attempting to break his grip It was impossible in Yuri’s eyes. He had just fought against this person to a standstill in his rather rough close-quarters combat, and though Yuri had not utilized “that” ability, the two were struggling to outmaneuver each other or overpower one another until his lul of judgment for the moment of his awe over the larger man.

The strange giant took the dagger in his hand and began to contemplate for but a moment, before focusing his attention on the man in his hand, as if he had forgotten he was struggling there until his sounds of struggle reached his ears.

“This isn’t yours, is it? I know this blade. I’ve seen it several times before, though I always thought it was a bit less dull.” The man said, walking towards the curtained window in a long, methodical stride. The sun was now sitting in the sky, and the morning was in full swing compared to the embers of morning seen by Yuri as he first learned of this hotel as Escanor saw whilst he opened the curtains of the window.

He stood looking out the window as if contemplating. The same sort of face a scholar makes as they study their discipline. The sort of concentration that can only come out of someone who was learning. Receiving his bearings, he gripped the dagger with all of his strength.

“Lugh Belenus: Authority of the Shining God!”

Words that meant nothing to Yuri, but a bit of knowledge and recollection seemed to wash over Jeremiah's face.

Yuri couldn’t “see “ what was happening with Escanor. His physical appearance seemed to change, perhaps becoming, even more, intimidating in both height and body, But none of those mattered to what Yuri had “felt”. If his ability was a sense, then this would have felt as if he stood directly next to the sun, feeling a burn that he eventually became more accustomed to. But he still comprehended the magnitude that this “ability” trumped his simple redirection of energy; This was the creation of power.

And with that, Escanor “lightly” dropped the struggling Jeremiah to the floor, formerly struggling and now trying to catch his breath on his new position.

But Escanor also took a position. One of a runner, right before the kickoff. But instead of the gunshot denoting his run, the second he was brought back to his standing position, he tossed the knife that almost found itself in Yuri’s heart just prior.

It was like a jet.

It was like a comet.

It was like a bullet.

Perhaps more accurately a massive artillery stronger at propelling than even the Paris gun.

It was like watching a shooting star in reverse, entering the sky outside of something Yuri felt was able to return back to the earth.

“Maybe I overdid it a little bit,” Escanor said to seemingly no one but himself, holding his shoulder with his other hand. “No matter. I simply took it away from a thief, after all!”

Glass was on the floor. The side of the building had shattered off into the street, revealing himself to the world and having several morning goers look up at the giant man’s destruction and noise as if he was a terrorist of sorts whom of which had destroyed the side of the building. Perhaps in a few moments, the hotel staff, or perhaps the police, would be showing up.

“M-My dagger!? What did you do to it!!?” Jeremiah choked out, in awe, and his voice cracking in seemingly fear at the feat of the giant.

But for someone like Yuri, whom of which never felt such an incredible amount of what he never understood to be magical energy being exuded from his person. It was like being a man in front of a god. It was impossible. Yuri simply stood there, shaking. Perhaps it was the alcohol in most situations, but he felt almost sick at “sensing” that kind of magic being expelled.

No … that wasn’t just the feeling of a massive expense of mana. He looked to his hands, a burning sensation on the back of his hand causing great discomfort as a symbol had appeared on his hand as a sort of tribal tattoo that resembled the mane of a horse.

“I simply returned it back to the person who originally owned it! A mere man like you should not hold an object fit for a king! Wahahaha!”

A bellowed laugh escaped his mouth, shaking his arms in conjunction with each laugh that escaped his mouth.

“Ah I see, this is a Grail War isn’t it?” Escanor said “So one of you is my Master, aren’t you. So, which one is it,” the Giant asked the two men in the room, one of them dumbstruck and the other one seething with rage.

“You aren’t the person I tried to summon, I attempted to summon the noble knight Gawain. You are an imposter. A trickster who had defiled a duel. You are no Servant of mine. And with the order of my command spell, I command that you take your life!”

…

But nothing happened. Of course, nothing had happened. Mr. Fairchild was not the one to summon the Servant. Sure, he was the one to set up the ritual, but right as he attempted to summon the Servant Gawain, an “unseen” force had began to tussle with him, causing the ritual to instead be completed by the interrupter. Perhaps this was an act of God, or an act of change, but either way, it was unfortunate for Jeremiah, but he had no power in this situation.

And he was livid.

“So that must mean you are my Master, kid,” Escanor said to the dazed and confused Slavic man, not completely understanding what was going on, aside from the fact that he was perhaps an ally of this strange … “man” … of sorts.

But Jeremiah refused to accept this outcome. And rushed against the Slav with a larger sword as opposed to a knife in his hand. However, this action was quickly ended as Escanor flicked the Clocktower lord lightly, causing him to fly across the room and knock himself out on the wall as he collided.

“So Master, what is the plan?”

“I, uh, have no idea what you’re talking about. I know I drink, but this is a pretty trippy hallucination. No, it is impossible for this to be a hallucination. This is reality, isn’t it? I suppose we should leave before the police show up, You did just destroy half of a building, after all. I’m sure someone called the police by now. Maybe you would want to get a drink with me?”

And here we are today.

"This is the supposed meeting place?" Not long after Yuri made his way inside the warehouse stood a lone young lady in a noblewoman's attire, she looked clean despite the puddles forming outside from the rain earlier and upon looking at the rundown shack, she just frowned with disappointment. "You'd think the Association could've set up a place far better than this rusted death trap." Who could blame her? Who else would want to meet in this place? Sure there might be the local gangs or some crazy maniac on the loose with a chainsaw probably but that's beside the point.

Instead of setting foot in the slightly flooded area of the building she just stood on whatever was dry and elevated at this point, arms crossed and her gray eyes scanning her "teammates" for this War.

A young lady in knightly armor with some priest-like character, her Servant probably.

Another woman in military wear, probably German. She thinks and alongside her looks like she doesn't stand out as a proper Servant, maybe not yet.

A man who looks as if he's wasted in the vices the world has to offer, this one is probably on her dislike list just above the knight woman's.

The only person she seems to formally respect is a man standing on the puddle, the one who greeted them in that fancy-flashy suit. She sighed in relief knowing that one of them is at least wearing something that isn't rough or dirty. "Am I looking at magi or just some people at a costume party?" Quickly turning to the flashy nobleman she responds with an open palm. "Not you, of course. You dress somewhat fine."

Not a very good first impression if people ask, if people are from the Association they would think this as the norm from those magi families with the longer bloodline since those sorts of insults being thrown around whoever is the best magus is common around the Clock Tower.

Anne arrives at the warehouse where the Black Faction is gathered. She observes the musty and disrepaired condition of the building. The walls are crumbling, the doors are unhinged, and the roof has a lot of holes. Anne wonders why they are gathered to such an unsecured place. What if someone else sees them? Will she have to reluctantly silence them? What if this is just a trap? While she may sound paranoid, her fears are not without solid ground, she is after all a Jew in Nazi Germany, behind enemy lines, and should she be found, it's all over for her.

"I have a bad feeling about this. Lancer, prepare for hostile attack.", Anne ordered her servant, Honda Tadakatsu, a Lancer-class. While she intended to summon a Caster, as with the traditional servant of choice of Jewish houses like the Franks, but her inexperience really got the better of her. Fortunately, her servant is no slouch, with good stats to boot, so she isn't complaining.

Anne threads the warehouse with caution, ready to cast spells should trouble arrives. Much to her suprise, the floor seems frozen. She threads the compound slowly until she is in the same room as with the other masters and their servants. She observes the other masters, she is most intimidated with the churchwoman in armor, the Catholic church and the Jews have been bitter enemies for a very long time, and even with a common enemy, they still have mistrust at each other. The church vehemently refuse to provide protection to Jews, regardless if they are hunted by the Nazis, or by other masters in a Holy Grail War. If any, the church would only reply with a schadenfreude remark of "Serves you right, Christ-killers". The Franks themselves experienced this first-hand as the church not only refused them refuge, but also tried to snitch them to the Nazis. The Franks were only lucky to escape with their lives, thanks to the support of the Mage Association and the British government (House Churchill is one of the major Magi families in Britain).

She looks with other mages with suspicion, while she pretends that she is not a Jew.

A normal man may have asked him why does he walk normally.

Why does he simply trod in puddles and dirty streets when he could fly or ride as though he were nobility.

Why did he walk instead of sparing the funds to have a comfortable drive? With his fortune he could afford a pleasant time and do well for himself even in this city that was driven into fervor and want due to its destitution.

The golems that traveled with him were the only signs that he was anything but a normal man. Covered in drapes more suited for storage containers, and holding enchantments that repulsed those that could only be called normal. It was partially thanks to them that the streets happened to be so empty in his wake, leaving his path unobstructed, allowing the man to travel without a single delay.

All the better since he was walking the entire way to take stock of the city. Potential places to harvest for materials, the simple flow and traffic. Of course the sense of its (suffering) business side was important. Money was a facilitator, and a means that was at times the ends for people who never were able to discover their dreams.

To understand the flow of people was important for attaining success so one could in turn avoid dealing with them. Yes, to understand people was needed to distance one’s self away from them. A thing that sounded most contradictory, but perhaps not if one viewed philosophers and men with insight. The great author who wrote tragic stories was but one example of a pessimist who understood the nature of things.

This man was no misanthrope, nor a pessimist.

It was simply that it was tiring, a distraction.There were good things of man, terrible things of man. But that was not a thing that mattered as much to him. His was not the place of one who worked with others. He was the lone crafter who would make things beyond man, make things below man. The things of great power and wealth that walked like a strange vanguard, hidden and yet out in the open held a strength beyond man and yet were limited as creations of man.

If humans were weak then let them make things that are strong.

Yet as men fight each other what was strong will become weak as they continue to advance further and further. Civilization continued to advance and now the ability to destroy and create both has reached a grand scale unthinkable by any other era.

Golems were a reenactment of the creation of man by god. An inferior adam.

His Golems were the domain of an angel, a shade of a higher-order being.
Beings that were both above and below humans. Such a thing could not be called a beast, such a thing could not be called god.

To hang between earth (man) and heaven (gods) was to be a lone star. A beautiful and lonely existence that could see all of creation and understand what was beyond the mentality of both. In other words a keystone, in other words those who see.

His golems were not people and did not reach that level of existence.

Yet the nature was still in a sense the same.

The path to all lied within the stars. Above humans, and yet not completely divorced. There he will achieve nothing. There he will achieve 「」

He had asked Assassin what they thought of his nature, of his path. He was both a product of the path, and a man who pursued it. Made to continue it and an individual who saw it as something worth continuing. He toiled for the future and yet hoped to be the one who would be the end of this line.

Ah, Assassin was not a being he hated. Indeed, they were the personification of a composure and purity that could be appreciated by any true magus. There were those who saw the world for how it was. There were those who saw into the heart of things, and there were those who told others the truth that laid plain as day and hidden both.

-

One golem had already been present as his eyes. In the shape of a bird, it was a scouting model rather than one optimized for fighting. Or rather, it was a scouting configuration that was born out of a certain part of Bereshit.

Through it he saw those that arrived. Through it he saw the worn down warehouse that was their meeting place. How unsightly. Yet there was no sense in gathering somewhere that mattered if they were not to take it as their workshop during their stay in the city for the war.

His use of the masters clairvoyance help identified the different attributes of the servants. While not a complete view of their capabilities, or identities it was still a good measure. Together with that information he found that those that were gathered so far were a group of pairs that he found much to comment on.

What seemed a member of the church, the knight who was most likely a templar. Accompanied by a Caster class servant she was likely to be fighting herself. He was certainly glad that he would not have to oppose such a thing.

A woman who walked in creating ice so as to not get wet.

What a farce. Assuredly not a magus. Perhaps a newcomer to the magical world that did not understand magecraft? A woman who was an esper?

She was the most unpleasant right off the bat.

There was the odd man who was certainly not one of the men he was told of. There was an odd bearing to him that he could not quite pin down. A hard to read man. But he could not tell if he would be a most annoying one, less than others.

Then there was a child with the features of a jew. Quite frankly he was not sure as to why such a young child would come out here. One who should still be learning, one who barely would have inherited their lines magic crest. Well, perhaps she was an abnormal monster who simply remained, or became a child once more despite being old. But yes, who indeed was this young one that would come h-Oh yes. He remembered now. Yet he found that it did not dispel his confusion. A foolish quest of a child he felt.

Taking stock of those who were present he entered in silence. The man made his entrance with six golems walking to his sides. Two in the shape of man, two as a strange creation with long spider-like legs and a center mass that was like a wheel. A final two that were hulking beings of stone meant only to fight.

There was no need to introduce himself. With those golems his identity could only be of one man. Asheckalva Zabolruju.

"This ice is an eyesore." he commented as it cracked under the weight of his creations. "I pity the one who wasted magical energy and utilized a mystery for such a trivial thing. One may as well burn their books of research notes for fuel for the fireplace if a morning was extra chilly at that rate."

He shook his head after sending a quick glance over at the woman that he already knew to be the source.

"But there are greater concerns. Let us begin. I am the master of Assassin. Once we have all gathered let us decide upon a place to wage this ritual from."

To state the class of his servant now was both a waste of words and not. Others would come, but he would no doubt be asked by someone before they arrived. So he simply answered before that question would come out.

“And you look like you belong in a ballroom, little miss noble,” Yuri crudely stated, spitting on the floor as he spoke.

”I met a man like you this morning, you know. Straight laced, formal speech, though he had the courtesy to dress a bit more appropriate for a stroll through the town. But that didn’t stop me from bashing his front teeth in,” Yuri boldly stated towards the rather sarcastic tone taken by the the snot-nosed brat before him. Yuri towered over the woman by around nearly twenty centimeters, but in a battle of magics size hardly mattered. After all, with all of his strength, his Servant claimed he had “returned” a blade back to England with a single toss. But he felt no such power from the little noblewoamn before him. Causion was to the wind.

”Now what kinda stupid cult are ya’ bastards. I’ve been possessed by one of your evil spirits, and together we had some spirits. I don’t know what he is or what he wants me to do, but I figured I would come here and ask, with my mouth or with my fists. Really up to how quickly you want to divulge what is going on here.”

To someone like Yuri, who did comprehend the fantastical due to his innate mutation as a person, but never entered the world of mystery, such a gathering seemed almost like the witches of old; the yaga who terrorized children’’s tales he had heard from both his mother and older sister growing up on his ranch. A cabal that should be beaten and strung through the street. But considering he was “possessed” by one of “their” spirits, it was not really clear what his part in this all was. And that was what he was here to find out.

There was a knight, a child, a noblewoman, another in the attire of a military officer compared to Yuri’s battered and bruised tsarist uniform that perhaps might be lost on those who were not either old enough to remember the Great War, or Weltkrieg, or the War to End all wars. But his attirer seemed to have been stitched together several times over, well done stitching, but stitched nonetheless which gave him a shabby appearance. There was also a rather pessimistic man sitting in the corner talking about burning books or something, and of curse, a strange, white-haired man who seemed to be the “leader” of the area. Or at least, the person who was trying to gather these people.

“Now ... what the hell is going on here?! This was the address in that bastard Fairchild’s wallet, after all. So, are you going to explain to me what the hell is happening here? ‘Association’? ‘Magi’? My evil spirit also mentioned a ‘Grail War’ … Are you communists or something!?”

The name Fairchild. The name of a Lord of Clocktower that was supposed to enter this contest. And the drunk Russian man had used his name in his speech in such a vulgar manner. It was clear the two had not enjoyed any sort of contact together. Had this lowly man beat a Clocktower Lord, as he so boldly claimed?

Of course it was a mistake on his part. Jeremiah had not anticipated the arrival of another, and Yuri’s fighting style of “dragging others in the mud as well” was not something he could really compete with. Not only that, but Yuri should have died if the Servant he had summoned, whom of which was merely a ghost to his side right now, but regardless, to come into contact with a Lord and make it out alive was a rather impressive feat by any magi, let alone a person who claimed no knowledge of magecraft.

But to someone who could not have known this story in its entirety, not being a particularly interesting fight at all considering neither force in the picture was able to unleash any mystical power and it essentially being a drunken brawl on the floor, it sounded as if he was some sort of powerful being. But clearly, by his statements and questions, he was not a magus, and had no idea what the hell this Grail War was, and he had been “possessed” by some sort of spirit. A mysterious drunken man who was either completely crazy or dead serious. And not even he knew which of these lines he tread. .

“I don’t give a damn which one of you answers or doesn’t, but one of you better answer, or Yuri Fyodorovich Romanyuk will have to choose who answers for you!”

As he said that “something” happened. At his hands, the air itself seemed to shift slightly. No, it was not a physical air, but there seemed to be a shift occurring. Subltle, but it existed.

Even though he had came to speak, Yuri tended to find him “speaking” usually lead to him “fighting”, and since he was not sure what or who these people were, he could not be so sure. After all, even if he couldn’t “see” the beings that remained in their spirit form, he sure as hell “felt” other existences similar to the “evil spirit”’ he had summoned.

_{Leutnant Jäger Schrodinger & Rider. Team White.}

Three months. That had been all the time allotted to prepare for a Grail War. At first he hadn't believed it, who in their right man would have? And yet, if real, it was to good a chance to pass up. As such, he had attempted to summon his Servant. A feat that should have been impossible, and yet it happened. He was blessed with a Servant for a Holy Grail War.

Those months had passed quickly, preparing war funds, equipment, magicial items, and making sure Rider was ready to play his part. That last part had taken a bit of doing, but well worth the effort. Now all that was left was claiming the Grail, and moving forward with the war. This would be a good year for Germany.

Or perhaps it could be that simple in a idealistic dream, instead he would be working with a group of six other to conquer a group of seven more. Once that was complete he and the remainder of his 'Team' would turn on one anouther for the right to use the Grail. A terrible plan, honestly.

Jager sighed dejectivly, before him stood a beer hall, inside he would meet these six other Mages and formulate battle plans. Perhaps with luck they would be willing to serve the greater good of Germany as well, and agree to use the Grail for her after this mess was cleaned up. It was never that simple. But one could hope.

Fixing his smile, adjusting his hat and jacket, Jäger stepped into the hall, followed close behind by a starting tall Mage. They both wore the German uniform, a officers uniform made of black leather tailored to perfection for himself, and a handsomly crafted soliders uniform for his subordinate.

A elderly woman and young man we're already present, with a beaming smile he pulled off his hand and gave a small but respectable bow, "Greetings! I am Leutnant Jäger Schrodinger, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintances.", his posture came back to perfection as he made his way to a empty seat, looking eager to start meeting his new unit.

Emilia smiled at the first person to enter, and she turned to the only other person who wasn't involved in the war at the moment. A bartender, who had been making all the food and drinks. "Moritz, please leave the room. Our guests have arrived, and the personal matters have begun." She said, to the scruffy gentleman who merely nodded. As Moritz left the room, the older woman brushed her stark white hair and turned to Nori. "You'd be surprised how talented he is at cooking. You know, I considered it a bit of an amazing thing that the offer was even available at a beer hall, but considering the day, and the time, and all other factors... We have about two hours before we have to move into more private areas, but for now, this was my choice for a proper meeting." She seemed shockingly relaxed as Nori raised his hand, the bruises of command seals easily spotted, despite not having summoned his servant yet.

Emilia raised her own hand, with her own three markings clearly visible. they took on the shape of a moon, with each mark forming into an elaborate third. Placing her hand back down, she leaned back in her chair, as if simply relaxing. "Well, Nori Tohsaka, it is good of you to come all this way on such short notice. I suspect your family felt it necessary to claim even one grail this year." She didn't laugh, instead her eyes narrowed as if daring Nori to challenge her claims. After all, despite being so 'grand' not all in the Tohsaka family could be considered equal, and with such a rush, she doubted Nori was all that high on the family's choices of grail masters. "But for now, you may call me Frau Weber. I am no Dr. M if that is what concerns you, nor do I know his identity. And I doubt he will even show."

Her attention drifted from Nori slowly, to focus on the new arrival less than a minute after the first. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant Schrodinger. I see you, unlike our dear Nori here have already selected your servant." In that moment, the air behind her rippled, and a ghostly blue fire fizzled in and out of existence. Standing there was a man in the world's most hideous outfit. The man looked at first like a lion given the body of the man, but from there his outfit seemed to be utterly questionable. Even Emilia had to take a moment to soak in the outfit. The bright flame colored designs, the sheer amount of golden decoration, and bare chest alone seemed horribly out of touch with the rest of the world. The man turned to her, and shrugged, as if silently saying it was the best he had. Clearly the man's fashion sense was abysmal, which could only hint at his power if he was so comfortable being seen like this. "This is Saber." She gestured to the man, who nodded at the duo.
"Well well, I see you are all nicely dressed. I'm grateful, it shows that we are all people of a certain degree of investment in our cause." The grin on his lips showed a flash of teeth, and then he was back to just a broad toothless smile. "But, it seems our first arrival still needs his servant." Saber said, readdressing the problem in the room.
"Mr. Tohsaka, if you have at the very least already acquired your artifact, then you will find all the necessary set ups over there." She gestured to the storage room, which would be a discrete enough location to summon his servant without revealing anything he wasn't prepared to do so early.

"Three so far, we still have four more we're waiting on, aren't we?" Emilia said, readjusting the lens of her glasses onto the bridge of her nose.
__________________________________________________________________________


The man in white said nothing as the the six new arrivals began to gather. Very few of them seemed to acknowledge him beyond noticing him there, which was fine. He wasn't important to them. Yet. He was no master after all, and the lack of command seals made that very clear. He took a step closer as a certain individual began to show a great deal of aggression. He bowed slowly, a hand on his back, and a hand on his chest. "Mr. Yuri Fyodorovich Romanyuk, wasn't it? I understand your confusion, because after all you have found yourself in a situation you must not have expected. I will keep this brief for your sake, won't I?" He didn't come off as patronizing, but rather excited. Somebody new, an unplanned for addition? How marvelous!

Taking a step closer, the man in white walked over to Yuri, and gestured for him to show the back of his hand. "I realize you are out of your depth, but please try and remain calm. The spirit you claim to be possessing you is not evil, I hope. But rather a heroic spirit. You completed a ritual that has brought a heroic being back from the past to fight by your side. In... A holy war." He glanced to Yuri's left, as if expecting his servant to be right there. "The goal of such a war is... Sadly dangerous. Each member here is aiming to collect an artifact called the Holy Grail. The goal is to kill the heroic spirit summoned by another master, and the last one standing is capable of getting any wish they desire, granted. Money, wealth, war, vengeance. It's all up for grabs." The man smiled, as if he was waiting for Yuri's reaction. "And that's just about it. You fight your servant against others, and the winner gets a prize. BUT!" He paused, just in case Yuri was about to try attacking another master. "These are not your enemies. Unless you want them to be. Rather, all of us have gathered to form an alliance, against another team far more dangerous."

Finally taking a step back, the man allowed Yuri whatever breathing room he seemed to need. "I am a representative of the Clock Tower. And you six are Masters of Black. The other seven are Masters of White. For those of you willing, an alliance is your only solution. Feel free to introduce yourselves, set up a headquarters, or... Bicker if you feel like it." He was still all smiles, as if only success awaited them.

And yet... Some may have noticed that when he spoke to Yuri, he left out one particular piece of information. In Grail wars, Masters tend to die.

Faction: White | Class: Rider | Master: Jäger Schrodinger

Rider followed a few steps behind as his Master engaged with the others. He could see the occupants of the room from any angle, but chose to meet their gazes with his stolen eyes simply because it was pleasurable for him, even after having the head for months, to exercise such a basic function. Jäger had supplied him with a uniform similar to his own, and together they had sought out a head providing both appearance and functionality. The hermit cooped up with his research had refused to support the regime, and so Rider had found another use for the mage, at which point Jäger had gone to the trouble of arranging a shave and haircut to free him from the appearance of an especially haggard librarian. He could reach through his "wound" and, seeing the mage's entire being laid bare before him, grab hold of those abilities which benefited him. The spells of that mage were far from exceptional even by modern standards, but such things did provide excellent utility.

The other Masters present were of little interest to Rider. As he understood it from his Master, there would be those in support of Germany and those simply here out of personal desire. Those who could not be trusted would have their Servants sacrificed in the early stages to weaken the enemy and reveal their abilities. Perhaps it was Jäger's intent in summoning Rider, then, that even if unruly teammates had to be cast aside their abilities might still be available to the faction through his Noble Phantasm. Of course, he was one of those here for personal desire, so beyond the success of Germany he had to ensure it was their own pair who reached the final goal and had their wishes granted.

He had little interest in the two other Masters present. They would support his allies, but never join him against a real threat. No, Rider only sought the source of the unmistakable aura of another Servant which pervaded the building, and as the old woman uttered the name of the supreme Servant class, his attention focused on the point where magical energy began to gather. He remembered himself and turned his physical eyes in that direction in time to see the man himself appear. One who was truly significant in this conflict, one he would fight beside. "Good evening. Even if I don't quite look the part, I'm the Rider for our side." He spoke up, as Saber's Master had seemingly done so on his part. He might have said something more formal, but the reclusive researcher's anti-social nature had rubbed off on him somewhat.

He gave a slight bow, clearly towards the Servant and not the Master, before joining Jäger at the table. As was often the case during the quiet moments in the last few months, Rider watched. He watched the doors, the tables, the old woman sitting with authority, the, oddly dressed Saber brimming with power, the timid boy without a Servant, and of course his own Master, putting on a show of enthusiasm for the coming death-match. His eyes, however, remained on the spread in front of him. His Master had usually been busy with preparations, and it seemed like such an unimpressive request, but he greatly enjoyed using his new tongue. He pulled a single grape from a bowl in front of him and brought it to his mouth.

Delicious.

Faction: White | Servant: Unsummoned

Obviously the jab at his family was meant as one at him, but it was too early for a show of weakness even if he had little desire to defend those people. "Nice to meet you, Frau Weber. And please don't worry about affairs in my homeland. My father is guaranteed victory this year, so you can just think of me as an ally who would never personally make for this Grail." Even calling it a bold-faced lie would be too generous. Of course every Master had their own goals in mind, even among those straight from the heart of Germany, Nori suspected. Still, had he overcompensated with boldness? He sunk just a little deeper into his chair, even as it weakened his stand from a moment ago. He dreaded that Weber might instigate a drawn-out conversation, but was saved by the arrival of another Master and the Rider-Class Servant he had already summoned, both dressed as soldiers of the country. As the Master introduced himself, Frau Weber's own Servant appeared. Please don't let me be the only one unprepared.

Seemingly such a problem would never come to pass, as Frau Weber directed Nori to a location prepared for just such a purpose. He rose from his seat and slung his bag over one shoulder as he made his way to the other room. "Sorry to disappear just after meeting you, Leutnant Schrodinger, but I really should prepare myself for the incoming conflict."

Nori closed the door to the storeroom behind him, switched on the light, and immediately identified the summoning circle at the centre. There was no point in wasting time, but even as a mage there was a certain mystic air to what he was about to do. From his bag he produced a sizeable chunk of wood with a bit of iron stuck on one corner. Although dull-coloured and generally unimpressive, it was a piece of the gates of the great city Troy. There were a variety of Trojan defenders who might be summoned from this, and if the Greek heroes who fought and deceived in order to pass through could also be counted, then this unassuming chunk of wood was a veritable fountain of Heroic Spirits, if an unpredictable one.

If I spend too long thinking about it, I'll get myself worked up and make a mistake.

Nori placed the gate-shard at the edge of the summoning circle, spent a moment running energy through his circuits, as if to flex or stretch them, and began reciting the words he had carefully memorized.

That was unlike him. No, it was a completely alien concept to him prior to this engagement. It isn't a stretch to say he hadn't been late to anything in his life, that was just the type of person he was. If anything, he had a chronic habit of showing up to things far too early. The situation where he arrived to a party before the host was ready had happened so often that those within Thule purposely send him invitations with the wrong time.

What could have caused someone who was such a stickler for arriving on time to be late?

Was it the German air? Maybe the rain had caused an electrical storm? Did the Full Moon only being a week away cause him to act like a Lunatic early? Was the creation of a road system at the level of the Autobahn too much for Magnus, so it caused him to be unable to properly navigate around Germany?

No, of course not. He didn't even have a license. Why would a magus drive?

The actual reason for being late was that his meeting with the higher ups at Thule simply ran too long. His briefing with them lasted far longer than he was initially anticipating, and even though he timed things out in a way to prepare for that, it simply wasn't enough. Then again, the full details of his task were incredibly complicated. They even felt the need to fully explain the Servant he was meant to be summoning with his catalyst.

Yet, when he finally conducted the summoning after the meeting, he got the wrong one. Well, it wasn't exactly fair to say he summoned someone completely wrong. The Servant he summoned was associated with the object he had used for the summoning, but it wasn't the one that was intended.

The object used as a catalyst was a drinking horn, one that said to have been used by the Valkyries themselves. This one in particular was said to have been the one Brynhildr had given Sigurd, though, that must not have been the case. Instead of Brynhildr, Magnus had summoned Hildr.

It wasn't any sort of inconvenience, as a Valkyrie of any kind was great warrior. She was also a rather legendary one, which would only serve to make her stronger. The Servant was befitting of the task Magnus needed to carry out, and in the end, that was all that mattered to him.

Magnus had finally reached the bar. A sigh escaped from his mouth as he looked over the place, and his overall displeasure with it could be shown on his face. He wasn't inside yet, but the fact that they were meant to do any kind of meeting in such a public place was shameful. The entire place was likely rented out, but that didn't excuse the fact that any kind of normal person could enter it, or maybe peak through a window.

To cover his level of irritation in regards to the meeting place, Magnus took out his pack of cigarettes. They were a brand of cigarettes known as "Dragon Breath" he picked up during a vacation in Formosa from an eccentric man. According to the Chinese man they were simply a prototype, so Magnus was able to get a majority of the cartons for a low price. Despite their terrible taste, Magnus had grown fond of them.

He lit a cigarette has fast as he could, and entered the bar.

"Apologies for my tardiness, I happened to get a bit side tracked. I am Magnus Knagenhjelm, the representative of Thule for this war. "

The last stretch before the Holy Grail War had finally arrived.



Smoke was the first thing Pandarus saw. It was to be expected that the summoning smoke would cloud his vision, though he enjoyed that in a way. While the Master would be waiting in anticipation for the Servant they had summoned, Pandarus could also see the surprise that hid behind the smoke.

The Master had summoned a Servant, and the Servant had gained a Master.

Once the smoke had cleared, Pandarus could finally get a good look at the man that he would call Master. He looked a bit on the scrawny side, befitting of a magus. It wasn't like Pandarus to judge someone for such a thing, especially considering how well his armor hid his body.

Pandarus' magical energy seemed fine, so at the very least, his Master wasn't below average or anything. In reality, there wasn't much more he could ask from his Master. It would be great if his Master was the head of the Mage's Association or something, but as long as he was good enough to not be a liability, Pandarus was content.

With his Master passing the one real test Pandarus had, he gave the man a smile.

"I'm Pandarus of Zeleia, the Greatest Archer at Troy. "

It was a simple greeting, but nothing more really needed to be said. He could go on about how he fired the arrow at Menelaus, and how terrible Athena was to him, but things like that had a time and place. This was meant to at least be a somewhat joyous occasion, as his Master had reached the final step needed to be in the Holy Grail War. With a Servant, it could be said that the man before him was finally a true participant.

Chaud walked through the streets slowly, adjusting his jacket to fight off the nip in the air. He pulled out a letter from one of his jacket's pockets and double checked the address he was supposed to be heading to in order to rendezvous with his team. He was already running a bit late and he greatly disliked this fact but there was nothing he could do about it at this point. Sighing to himself, he stuffed the letter back into his pocket before continuing on his way, while running through the dossiers of his teammates that he had made before coming to Germany. Eventually, he reached the address sent to him and paused outside the door.
"Let's not reveal your true name yet Berserker. At least, let's try to avoid it. We don't know how this war is going to go down yet." He said to his servant, who he knew was lurking nearby in spirit form. His piece said, he entered the beerhall without another moment of hesitation.

Entering the bar, he saw it was mostly empty, with only a about four other people around. It didn't take a genius to figure out that these people would be his fellow masters and current allies. He eyed them all carefully for a few seconds before moving further into the building and over to the table that was filled with food. He had already grabbed a meal for the evening and he was not so inclined to accept a meal he had not seem prepared himself. At least, not until he knew it was safe.

Pushing aside the thoughts of possible sabotage going on within the ranks aside, Chaud decided it was best make his presence known to his fellow companions.
"Good evening gentlemen and Madam." He said, looking at each of the masters once more. "My name is Chaud von Ronzekruetz, of the Rozenkruetz Mercenary Company. I have been hired to work alongside you in this Holy Grail War and I hope we'll be able to work together to achieve our goal despite that fact that some of you might not... view me in the highest regard."

Yuri seemed to calm down at the clarification of the “event” he were to take his place within, seemingly understanding to an extent as to what the gentlemanly man presented to him. Perhaps under a circumstance where he had come off a little bit more abrasive to Yuri’s ears, his similarities with a certain Lord he had taken care of earlier might have caused his reaction to change completely. This was not the case, however. A victory in diplomacy, or at the very least, a diffusion of the situation at hand.

“So there is a war then? I knew that the Germans were mobilizing recently according to some sources, but I would never have guessed it was for some petty game like this.”

Yuri scoffed at the idea. The Germans, who had been a major reason for the destruction of his homeland and the change of government, were simply playing some sort of fantasy war for an object that the white-haired man claimed could “grant wishes”. Perhaps if there did exist a powerful existence that could make true the wishes of man beyond the capacity of their wills any king would wish to obtain this power to enforce their hegemony.

It seemed preposterous.

It seemed impossible.

But somehow within his mind, of which might have been altered by various ingestion of alcoholic beverages, could comprehend what the other was saying. He knew that what they were speaking was the truth. After all, if there was a reason to lie, it would not be about an unbelievable instance of a war to obtain what the white-haired mystery man called the “Holy Grail”. And if the group wanted Yuri dead by now, he probably would have had to fight through these strangely dressed, strangely behaved, strange people, even though he was sure he could at least knock down 3 of them before their numbers overwhelmed him.

“But you mentioned that we are a team, yet when speaking about the Holy Grail, you mentioned it only grants a “wish”, not “wishes”. Then there is omly one wish, correct? How would we determine who gets the wish after this conflict?”

A simple enough question. Yuri was a swindler and vagrant. There was no way any dixie or tramp could get past his keen sense of semantics. After all, it was an important part of his profession. Never accept something that seems too good, and the devil is in the details. Thus, for a conversation as simple as this, he had seen somewhat past the riches supposed by the Holy Grail, and considered for a moment the legitimate logistics of the whole concept and situation he had found himself in. Like any military man should do.

"The matter of a wish matters not if we do not manage to survive or win, boy." the robed spirit suddenly called out to the unexpected newcomer. "It certainly did not matter to the lord you disposed of in the end, did it?"

With a wave he dismissed the concerns of Yuri, or rather, bade him to leave them for later.

“If we are to set up a headquarters… as our esteemed host suggests, then I shall lead the way.” The servant spoke without reservation. “Yes, I know the perfect place. A place well-suited for our efforts as a team.” and of course, especially for himself. “

“It is not a terribly old place, all things considered. But its suitability for the purpose of this ritual is second to none. A place separated from the rest of the city, a place suitable for our various mysteries. While it is only a mere decades old it is exceptionally compatible with the fortifications I am to offer. Ah, of course I must introduce myself first before I am to be a guide.”

With a smile he raised a hand. A frame was knitted with magical energy, the processes of a creation being run through in his mind. To make a map was not beyond Caster’s abilities, and so it could be replicated through magecraft.

The gathering of pigments, the dispersant, solvents.. The tanning and stretching of the hide of a beast. Drawing, observing, seeing the city. All the steps were played out in his mind, the process of creation carried out.

Yes, to project something was in a sense the same as creation.

A massive map coalesced into existence in the hands of Caster. He sent a slight smile to his master as he watched it roll out into something akin to a carpet, covering the floor and even going as far as to roll over the feet of a few of the masters.

He pointed at a certain island. “There, at the Berlin Cathedral we will be gathering. Our efforts will likely be blessed, and from a more practical point of view of a magu-ahem… heretic, it is a place most suited for mysteries.”

Caster simply began to walk away without further word or elaboration. Nor did he wait for a response. Was it that he expected them to follow like a herd? Was it that he simply did not care whether or not they accompanied him. But what was certain was that the servant of magic paused only to call out to the knight that accompanied him. “Come now, master. We have much work to do.”

--

The establishment of a territory, the creation of bounded fields. There was much work to do, and little time to rest. A simple enough matter to insert themselves, and any number of guests into the Cathedral. While he decided to keep his usage of hypnotic suggestions to a minimum, there was no harm in using such magecraft upon the ones who were of the church.

Well, it was simply easier this way he explained to his master. It was simply a matter of making sure they do not see odd things or pry. Minimum interference was required due to their already existing authority and sanction by the church.

Walking in the holy halls Caster felt a certain melancholy, a certain twinge of regret. He was no evil man, he was a righteous man. Yet... that ignoble end, the tortured life he led. There was good in it, there was bad in it.

Yet the blotch of a stain upon his life that woman was at the end of his life was a deep one, a pigment of desire and sin that spread and covered up everything. In a sense that woman came to define him, in a sense that woman took everything that was Caster and erased it. Now he was simply a fool ruined by love, with all that came before meaningless.

Ah, he truly ****** her.

As Caster set up his territory church bells began to ring, echoing throughout the city. A great presence was filled in those deep echoes that invoked a certain famous other cathedral, and perhaps a touch of a forbearance even a normal person could feel.

Yes.

War had come to Berlin, and perhaps these bells marked the beginning of a fall.

Without further adieu Caster began his work in the church that became his workshop. The first order of business was the creation of homunculi helpers. After all they would make the work go quicker. Then came the construction of various other bounded fields. His homunculi were able to make more homunculi and aid him with such tasks. Of course there were a few created to physically reinforce and redesign the cathedral so as to truly make it a stronghold.

In a sense their base was truly the Cathedral, but the island itself was their/his territory. Seperated from the world, truly this was an island of god, an island of ghosts, an island of mystery. Today, legends invoked and brought back to the living world walked among the halls that showcased history.

Welcome to Museum Island. Welcome to the Berlin Cathedral. Let the bells of Notre Dame sing of war and sin. May we be protected by the flames of the hell of our own creation.

Amen.

Magnus Knagenhjelm

He was late

That was unlike him. No, it was a completely alien concept to him prior to this engagement. It isn't a stretch to say he hadn't been late to anything in his life, that was just the type of person he was. If anything, he had a chronic habit of showing up to things far too early. The situation where he arrived to a party before the host was ready had happened so often that those within Thule purposely send him invitations with the wrong time.

What could have caused someone who was such a stickler for arriving on time to be late?

Was it the German air? Maybe the rain had caused an electrical storm? Did the Full Moon only being a week away cause him to act like a Lunatic early? Was the creation of a road system at the level of the Autobahn too much for Magnus, so it caused him to be unable to properly navigate around Germany?

No, of course not. He didn't even have a license. Why would a magus drive?

The actual reason for being late was that his meeting with the higher ups at Thule simply ran too long. His briefing with them lasted far longer than he was initially anticipating, and even though he timed things out in a way to prepare for that, it simply wasn't enough. Then again, the full details of his task were incredibly complicated. They even felt the need to fully explain the Servant he was meant to be summoning with his catalyst.

Yet, when he finally conducted the summoning after the meeting, he got the wrong one. Well, it wasn't exactly fair to say he summoned someone completely wrong. The Servant he summoned was associated with the object he had used for the summoning, but it wasn't the one that was intended.

The object used as a catalyst was a drinking horn, one that said to have been used by the Valkyries themselves. This one in particular was said to have been the one Brynhildr had given Sigurd, though, that must not have been the case. Instead of Brynhildr, Magnus had summoned Hildr.

It wasn't any sort of inconvenience, as a Valkyrie of any kind was great warrior. She was also a rather legendary one, which would only serve to make her stronger. The Servant was befitting of the task Magnus needed to carry out, and in the end, that was all that mattered to him.

Magnus had finally reached the bar. A sigh escaped from his mouth as he looked over the place, and his overall displeasure with it could be shown on his face. He wasn't inside yet, but the fact that they were meant to do any kind of meeting in such a public place was shameful. The entire place was likely rented out, but that didn't excuse the fact that any kind of normal person could enter it, or maybe peak through a window.

To cover his level of irritation in regards to the meeting place, Magnus took out his pack of cigarettes. They were a brand of cigarettes known as "Dragon Breath" he picked up during a vacation in Formosa from an eccentric man. According to the Chinese man they were simply a prototype, so Magnus was able to get a majority of the cartons for a low price. Despite their terrible taste, Magnus had grown fond of them.

He lit a cigarette has fast as he could, and entered the bar.

"Apologies for my tardiness, I happened to get a bit side tracked. I am Magnus Knagenhjelm, the representative of Thule for this war. "

The last stretch before the Holy Grail War had finally arrived.

---

Hildr kept an easy pacing behind Magnus; her silvery blue eyes carefully scanning the nooks and cranny's of the street for any potential threat. Even though upon being summoned to Midgard she was still mystified by the changes that had happened to the world since she had been here last. Since she had carried the devout Norsemen from the planes to join Odin within his honored halls. No longer did the wilds stretch far and wide, now pillars of smooth stone took their place making the ground strong but empty of life. No longer could the God's be felt within the air. Electricity and steel had driven them out.

Hildr's strong gaze snapped back to Magnus as he seemed to stop before a pub. As he lit his cigarette she looked about the outside of the facility for any traps or enemies lying in wait.

"You know, there is no honor to death by filtered tobacco." Hildr remarked flatly. Her eyes soon finding Magnus once more. "Though we might find honor in this Grand War before your cigarette has the opportunity." With that she smiled, as if dying in this battle was something she looked forward too; not only that but wished for Magnus as well so they both might find themselves celebrating in Valhalla.

As Magnus continued his steps she followed behind as they entered. Most outside of the Holy Grail might simply consider Hildr a Method Actress in the role of a warrior far before this Era. She wore her staple stitched leather pants and heavy boots. A strong chest plate of iron over her chest with leather wrapped and folded over itself between her skin and the cold metal. Over it all a heavy fur coat of silver, grey, and black wolf fur. Hildr's face held strong scandivian features; a strong jaw line with pale skin, dark lines and dots made of charcoal painted elegantly on her face.

After Magnus had the opportunity to introduce himself Hildr stepped forward to align herself at his side.

"My name is Hildr. Servant Lancer to Magnus." She explained in simple terms, finding no need to hide her identity. There was no honor in it.

Faction: White | Servant: Archer

Pandarus, then. Even if his worldwide fame didn't quite match up to that of the invincible Achilles or the clever Odysseus, he was a mighty warrior, a fact which Nori could see reflected in the parameters of the spirit revealed through the summoning smoke. "Nice to meet you, Pandarus." He bowed, "I'm your Master, Nori Tohsaka. My pockets are deep as far as mana is concerned, so please don't hold back when it comes time to deal with the enemy faction. Also, try to let me know about any internal issues before they get out of hand, okay?"

His Servant. Even though he hadn't been trained properly, the high-grade circuits of his family meant this was a competition where he actually had something that might be called an edge. He suddenly wondered if he looked awkward, standing there dumbly before the legendary warrior, so he gave himself something to do by returning his catalyst to his bag and quickly making for the door that lead back into the hall. "If there's nothing else pressing, we should rejoin the group. This building is only a meeting place, and it feels as though two more Servants have just arrived."

With the pact formally made, Nori opened the door in time to catch the latest Masters, seemingly a soldier and a more traditional sort, introducing themselves to the group. His eyes widened for a moment as he almost missed Lancer revealing her identity. "Just remember," He turned back to his new Servant, "Once you pass through this door, you're only known as Archer."

Reentering the beer hall while leaving it up to Archer whether to follow in full view or spirit form, Nori quietly pointed out and named to his companion the two Masters and Servants he had met before taking a shot at the names of the new arrivals he had only just overheard through the doorway. Having traversed a sufficient distance across the expansive room, he spoke up to the woman at the head of the table, "Thank you for preparing that circle, Frau Emilia. I've now become the Master of our side's Archer." He could have delved into strategies with the other Masters, then, but it would have been a waste to do so without the entire faction present, since they would have to repeat everything to the absent pairs.

Nori was happy to see that the spot he had sat in before remained vacant, and returned to it quickly after hasty and quiet greetings to the new arrivals. Naturally, the size of the table allowed for a spot next to him to remain empty, which his Servant could fill. He took a moment to gaze around at the other Servants. The flamboyant Saber, the noble Lancer, the unsettling Rider, and one more who lingered on the air rather than materializing. Be careful around them, Archer. Nori took a moment to test out the mental connection granted by their familiar contract. They won't be our allies forever.