Something was not right.

Something was very much not right. Lancer Prime might have been confident in his skill, but even he could not help but find it odd that his opponent neither frowned or showed surprise once his hold sent him tumbling to the ground. He could understand the thrill of a good fight, of course, but the glint in his eye gave away that there was something else about this.

Regardless, it was no use to think about that now. He had always been a man that dealt with things as they came — perhaps that disposition would cost him, perhaps not, but he would not change course. Not that he’d be able to at this point, with Saber ready to collide. He continued through the motions as planned — the throw executed perfectly and his arm cocking back to launch the punch in a smooth transition — until Saber dodged by a hair’s breadth, his strike rupturing the ground instead.

He let his features change into a frown, starting to pull back, but it was too late — Saber was not quicker than him, but between his natural capacity and top-notch intuition, he was able to keep up and catch him off-guard like this. He was ready to, perhaps, be pulled into a wrestling contest — even eager, regardless of it being under his opponent’s terms, excited about the challenge and confident in his technique.

He was, however, not ready for the sudden explosion that managed to leave him dazed. It had not been powerful enough to breach the defenses of his armor, but it had interrupted his plans for a follow-up rather handily, which meant it was Saber’s move.

His mind reviewed possibilities — but, once again, Saber’s choice would surprise him. He had, after all, not expected the man to turn Lancer Prime’s own weapon against him, especially considering what he had done moments prior, but he was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he dove down to meet his quarry.

It was a strange situation if looked through an outside lens. Not only did Saber have the advantage of reach, thereby making it impossible for Lancer Prime to engage in a grapple without being skewered, but it should have also been an expected strategy in any battlefield — it was, after all, the one weapon Saber had on hand and the Servant clearly knew how to thrust with a spear.

Yet. . .

“Come on now, Saber, did you seriously expect such a rookie mistake?”

This was not a normal battlefield, and neither was that a normal spear — and unless Saber possessed an ability that allowed him to ‘take possession of the treasures of other heroes’, the fact remained that regardless of whose hands it was on or the distance between them, that particular spear was a Noble Phantasm that belonged to Lancer Prime.

So he did the only natural thing when he was faced with his own weapon: much like Saber had done with that shield of his, he dematerialized it before it touched his skin as a matter of course, continuing his assault toward an opponent that was on the ground and had overextended an arm and had kindly put himself into a proper position.

Knees meeting the ground, he quickly made to grab that arm and get him into a shoulder lock, trying to get the other arm tucked beneath his leg.

The basics were rather simple — use Saber's own arm as a lever while his head and other arm remained bound by Lancer Prime’s legs, twisting to put his target into a torque and cause pressure greater than the joints could handle.

He had done it to some people, and the results were not pretty. He’d have to see whether Saber knew how to use that strength of his for more than just punches.

@Cu Chulainn @Phonic

---

She felt it. Saw it. But that was mostly through her bugs. The sound of the explosion was muffled enough under the tub that she probably hadn't even needed to cover Shinji's ears. Did that mean it was weak? No, the damage was clearly serious, it was just that the bomb had gone off only after sliding down a hallway to the back of the house. On top of that, the familiars that had been in the area had taken the full brunt of the curse in that projectile. Quickly, Reiki broke off her contracts with them, leaving them to flop helplessly until she could find a safe way to dispose of them.

Tentatively, she dismissed the swarm surrounding her and Shinji and lifted up the tub to look around. With the immediate threat gone, the gazebo's defences swiftly destroyed themselves. They hadn't even been touched by the blast, which had been highly concentrated. Nonetheless...

Lancer, there's been an attack at the manor. Please excuse yourself from the encounter with that Saber and return here hastily.

...The area that had been hit was absolutely decimated, although those outside the property wouldn't have heard or seen a thing. Stepping out of the gazebo and circling the building with Shinji following timidly at her heels, Reiki was able to observe damage better. It seemed that by a stroke of fortune the damage had been limited to the least valuable parts of the house. The upstairs bathroom, a pair of empty guest rooms, the dining room ceiling and half the attic were simply gone. Indeed, it could have been so much worse. Her room, the study, the workshop, Benita's room, the safes, and the worm pits all remained completely intact. After that villainous Master's bank robbery it was no longer possible to use wealth as a tool as Reiki had once hoped, but the Matous would at least be able to stay comfortably afloat as a family with what was kept in their house, if such a thing was even needed in Zouken's perfect world.

However, the home she had spent her entire life in had been severely damaged. There was no way. It was close, but she wouldn't cry. If Benita were around she would have requested Lancer Prime hunt down the culprit posthaste, as she had caught a glimpse of his appearance through her bugs before the attack, but in this case a little more diplomacy would be required.

---

---

Their target was in sight. Not the target of a sneak attack, but rather the recipient of a message. In an alley just ahead they took on the required forms, Eleven as the controller and Twelve as a rough likeness of a plain man from the controller's memory. Stepping out onto the street, Eleven quickly approached the two, looking exactly as another double had earlier that evening. "Excuse the interruption, I'm sure you're having a productive night, but I thought you should know that there is a Servant in the area, presumably an Assassin, who briefly attacked my home just now before vanishing without a trace."

Twelve emerged from the alley at that point, after double-checking that all the features of its form were as accurate as possible. "His appearance was something close to this, and he materialized and vanished with no warning or trace." It gave a slow spin, as if showing off new clothes, although the intent was actually to make entirely clear the enemy Servant's appearance.

"This is a warning, as the Assassin appeared and vanished with no warning or trace. In addition, it is a request to do away with this person on sight, as they are obviously a remorseless killer and enemy of our group." With that, the worms with the appearance of Reiki Matou moved back into the alley and fell apart once out of sight.

"If you have anything to share, just speak up. My units are all around." The group appearing as the unknown Assassin soon did the same, leaving things just as they had been.

---

---

It was a disadvantage of the Clairvoyance Lancer was making use of compared to something like Instinct or Mind's Eye that the information provided to her came with no instruction concerning a response. So, while she was not surprised in the functional sense when Saber let loose a flurry of masterful kicks, she still found it surprising that such a thing happened at all. Still, her eyes which pierced the body and the mind provided her with a good idea as to what was happening.

This technique is not his own, exactly. Is this another of his abilities, or..? It mattered little. Since Saber had elected to give the battle a hand-to-hand twist, she left her spear in the knight's grip and prepared to counter-

She felt the alarms before her Master sent the message, and so Lancer changed her tactics to allow for a quick exit, leaning with her foe's first kick before jumping sharply backwards where the following storm could not reach. A moment later, the red spear dematerialized, vanishing from Saber's grasp.

"I hate to leave just when you're starting to show off your abilities, but my Master needs me" She leapt to the top of the hill, "Next time we meet, I will kill you before you start gathering strength." It was largely a lie, but if he displayed no immortal-slaying abilities against other foes then it would probably be best to make quick work of him in a sneak attack.

With that, she begain moving quickly the way she had come. It had been several minutes of walking from the Matou manor when she had moved with the speed of a human, but at this rate it would likely be less than one. Saber, the stalwart defensive fighter, had picked up speed during the match, but he would still likely have a hard time catching up to her.

Troilus considered Lancer’s words for a moment. The bag was weird, but he dismissed it with the same casual innocence as Lancer. Though the two had come to an agreement, a friendship made possible by their childish personalities, the matter of what game to play remained.

It didn’t take long to come up with something.

Without warning, his hand darted forwards, striking out at his companion with an open palm.

A level of speed and power that had the capability to destroy a normal human. Strength and agility worthy of the nature of a heroic spirit; any onlooker would see nothing but a blur, and perhaps feel the wind, stirred by the strike, whip past them. Even though it lacked technique beyond the flailing of a child, even though there was no thought or strategy behind it, it was a blow that could shake the earth, break through steel. Something no ordinary human could stand against, something no ordinary human could reach.

...Not an attack.

“Tag, you’re it!”

A simple playground game, one that had existed for countless years. Even among the children of Troy, there had been people who played such a game. Well, the young prince had been more than a little sheltered, so he hadn’t been able to join in too often. But now he had someone he could play with, on an even playing level.

To use such a level of speed and power for the purposes of a harmless game… Servants truly were ridiculous.

As soon as his declaration of ‘it’ was finished, Troilus began to run back the way he had come from, in the vague direction of his home. He wasn’t moving at his full speed, since this was just a game, after all. If he was caught, the consequences were simply becoming ‘it’.

@Sageage

Took the chop right between her horns, bonk! She dropped the lobster and went to grip her head, rubbing at the point of impact with a pout as she feigned discomfort and cowered back away from him. "Owww... Darling that hurts... Are you really going to be that kind of husband? Fufu~" She failed to keep the smile off her face, flashing her little fangs past her lips as she lapsed into a giggle. "It's okay though, I forgive you~!"

She looked down at him with that same laughter in her eyes and her smile spread wider. "Oh my my~! A man who would ask a demon for her blood? Maybe I was wrong about you darling~! Striking me without hesitation and now this, you're seriously full of surprises! Those bones may have some worth in them after all~!"

And with that he was yanked back to his feet, face to face with the maddening fanged grin of Berserker. She whispered, barely above the sound of the trees "...And when I'm all worked up from playing with Archer and Lancer too..." Her tongue ran across her lower lip, and then around across the top, across those fangs to draw blood. Her hands on his shoulders tightened into an inescapable vice grip, almost threateningly, before she leaned in and...

...Well, some of the blood ran down his chin before she was done. He could probably use that. If not she'd gladly give a more reasonable sample once she was finished teasing the poor lad. Just teasing, even if he had impressed her with his boldness Ana just simply wasn't her type. Once he recovered from it there would be lobster at least.




The preservation of older mysteries into the puppets. Intriguing, and not an idea foreign to her either. That a god would re-affirm the failed works of her predecessor as not only valid but fruitful however might warrant a revisiting of their experiments.

It was almost as intriguing as the quality of the drink she held in her hand. the aroma of it was more pleasant than the actual taste of most anything she'd ever had. Of course the taste itself was several magnitudes beyond that, but even such an ascendant pleasure was incapable of getting more than a dry smile from the hag. Still she drank as he spoke, and without any subtlety or reservation. A little extra help pumping through her blood would help her tolerate the antics of her guests far easier.

She offered a nod of without any further words before turning to Chiron and Gin. "Archer your friend is quite presumptuous with his advice, I can see why he is your friend." It was a quality both admirable and annoying in equal parts, though one that was hard for her to knock given how she had often conducted herself before she had withdrawn from society wholesale.

She finished her glass and started to ask for another, and to try and strike up a proper conversation with Archer and Gin about where they would go from here, but a voice over her karmic link flung her attention elsewhere in a hurry. She had no anticipated that Troilus would simply leave unattended, and so she had not bothered to pay attention to his whereabouts during her trip to the pub. By the time she reeled herself back in and stomached the conflicting concern and anger to a manageable level he was already in danger... At least as far as she could tell.

She spoke twice at once, with mind and voice. 'Be very careful sweetie, remember that those other servants may want to hurt you and Baba' over the karmic link, in that sweet little granny tone, and "Archer. If you intend to keep your place here you had best go assist Troilus, before the roof falls down on your head." aloud, barked like some terrible hybrid of bosses order and crone's omen.

A few seconds later another order followed suit, "Donny, keep'em comin'."

They moved rather swiftly through what the locals called “Shinto,” as Christopher had scoped out much of the surrounding territory already. There seemed at first to be little of note, but if one looked a bit closer, some things seemed to be a little more than unusual.

A heightened presence of the thugs and other such criminals milling around the city, which could indicate many things. That they were aware of the conflict, and were attempting to guard the city out of some sort of twisted chivalry, that they were the thralls of some Servant, though his Seeker of Mystery seemed to indicate otherwise, but who knew when it came to those from legend, or perhaps they just heard a great deal of noise and were coming out to investigate.

...or they came out for the newly opened bar, advertised with flyers strewn through what seemed to be all across the city, which seemed even more like blatant bait than the Servant smashing open his familiar earlier that evening. Aside from the absurd pricing of a single yen for a “shot,” (since the yen was becoming worth even less due to the silver devaluation of recent, which is why the merchants earlier in the week were more than happy to take even his “foreign” gold), the fact that they advertised that they were making their “products” for more than three millennia, and the particularly odd comment at the bottom... it practically screamed out that there was something unusual going on at the establishment.

Oh, and the fact that the bar wasn’t even there when he was preparing his map of the city earlier was also something rather significantly worrying.

Christopher made a mental note to set up some observers, some normal, and some perhaps… sturdier, at the location oh-so-helpfully provided at the bottom, and to update his oxhide map.

However, his and Avenger’s main goal was to go to the other part of the town, “Miyama.” There was a higher likelihood of an encounter with a Master and Servant here, considering the locales and the fact that two of the three Families who constructed this… War established their homes here. Considering the Tohsaka and the Matou were in the same district for so long, it may have very well meant that that they had arranged an alliance, or something of the sort. After all, the Einzberns are competitors of immense strength, due to homunculus having magic circuits with few peers, and it would actually be fairly likely that they would band together to strike down one of the strongest competitors first, before battling each other.

It wasn't like they would be overly concerned with the other newcomers, considering they had been on home ground for generations, and were preparing for the war all this time.

“Avenger, you did wish to some of the power players of this War, no? We're fairly close to the Foreigner's District, where the Tohsaka and the Matou have built their homes. If we travel swiftly enough, we may be able to observe two of the strongest contenders for this war, and discern some of their defenses. The Matou are closest, let us go there first."

---

They set down in an area that was close enough to the Matou manor to observe, but likely far enough away that they wouldn’t be noticed too easily. Christopher pulled out one of his simpler observational Codes, a simply enhanced set of Porro prism binoculars. He “zoomed in” a fair bit closer, so he could take a look at the enemy's domain.

Goodness gracious.

As expected of the Matou, there was a bounded field in place that blurred the specifics of the location from his vision. However, the fact remained that there was a hole in the mansion. Someone had the nerve to not only attack one of the Three Families, but assault them directly, bypass their barriers, and blow up at least a portion of their sanctum.

Frankly, that was more than impressive.

However, he was unable to see more clearly, as with his limited observational tools, he could not outright bypass the bounded fields. Thankfully, however, he had not come alone, and his Servant far outstripped him in most capacities, including this one.

"While I am able to see the general basics of what has become of the Matou manor, due to my limited ability and tools in this matter, I am unable to discern more of what has occurred, Avenger. Undoubtedly, however, you must have been able to perceive more, especially with your Skills. What more have you found?"

@UndyingRegret

If one were to bother to look outside their idle homes and onto the streets of Fuyuki, they may catch a glimpse of magic, before suddenly forgetting and ignoring the fantastical sight that lay before them.

An entourage of willows and wisps, stalking through the dark streets of Fuyuki, illuminated by the pale moonlight reaching down below.

Of course, such a move by a master in a grail war would be the height of either stupidity or arrogance. In this specific case, it would be neither, though exceptionally close to the former.

They were a measure of safety for Hamel, who, while flagrant in his usage of magecraft, still did his due diligence to conceal the nature of the moonlit world even in his frustration fueled madness. A move that would rightfully be called suicidal in a Grail War, where existences capable of crushing his frail body with nary a thought existed.

Yet, still he moved with purpose, and with confidence. His every footstep punctuated by a clacking of wood, originating from a trio of talismans and the occasional stone his stave would chance upon.

Eventually his wandering ceased, Hamel having stopped. A stiff breeze flew by, originating from a peculiar sight to see in the dead of night.

Two children, playing a game of tag.

If he hadn't come to expect the unusual Hamel may have very well popped a blood vessel. But instead, here he was, gazing at two shining stars of humanity with dead eyes. Simply taking in the impossible sight before him, at the two competitors of this Holy Grail War enjoying their time together, before taking his face into his hands and letting out a quiet sob.

@Sageage @SSW



Letting out a wry smile at her master's provocation, Assassin answered Lilith's query passionlessly.

"Unfortunately master, I must decline, if we are to win this war I will have to get to work at the main water system immediately, along with setting up the bounded fields and getting started with our simulation."

Getting up from her comfortable position across from her master, Assassin made her way to the door, astralizing and making her way about town.

There was much to do for an Assassin such as she, but the main priority of hers was to immediately secure a location for the her upcoming work. While poisoning the water supply is a priority, it was also one that could give them away.

No, such a thing would be shelved for later. She would start, but to finish this early is to bring upon them ruin.

So instead Assassin would work on a more volatile work at the moment. Work that required material.

And, well. No one would care if a few drunkards or undesirables go missing now would they?

@Undyingregret

Under the moonlight obscured by the branches above, a dance is held. A wordless song is held in tune with the steps, a bewitching dance that calls forth and ensnares the listeners. In time, the dance slows, until the woman still entirely, taking a deep breath and letting out a sigh. With a disgruntled look on her face, she turns and scans her surroundings.

“Hmph. To think that I would have needed to make such sloppy preparations. I’m slipping. Then again, one cannot ignore the stresses of time. Hurried work is wasted work, but in this case I can accept this result.” Kosara shook her head as she moved to a fold-up chair she had laid out and sat down.

For the disgrace of the Clocktower to find herself in this backwater was a surprise, if only because the backwater woods she found herself in wasn’t the usual backwater stretch of forestry she was usually secluded in.

Her family had sent a missive about the interesting ritual being held here, and with her interest piqued, she had willingly set off to this land and found herself as a participant in the Holy Grail War. She knew that her family had sent her here in the hopes of keeping her out of their hair for as long as possible, perhaps even permanently, but she couldn’t bring herself to be all that bothered by it. Her purpose in coming here was to try and understand the method by which Heroic Spirits would be summoned and made to serve as familiars, to become existences akin to familiars despite what they were in life. Not to gather wraiths and slap on the appearance and name of such legendary figures, but to give them a container and summon them, even if in part, to this plane.

Scratching her hand, she gazed idly at the red seals burned into her skin. And the Command Seals. One could not forget the most important part of the equation that allowed this ritual to proceed and not result in the slaughter of the magi who were calling upon all sorts of legends to aid them. Speaking of which-

“Rider. How far have you gotten with preparations? My end is done for the night. And just in time too.” Kosara called out to her own Servant, looking up at the fading night.

Early birds may have their pick of worms, but even latecomers could scrounge up something for themselves. She’d have to be careful with how she moved from now on with other powerhouses holding the territory before her. But in her territory? Well, she felt she didn’t have to worry as much thanks to her Servant.

@Addamas @Reflection @Floodtalon @EnterTheHero




The fist that slammed into her was a powerful strike, a full swing of A-rank strength. Diluted as it was by the barrier of wind it was a blow that sent her flying away and brought stars into her world. An intensely painful clash, an intensely costly clash. Indeed, if not for the winds of Saber it was a blow that could have been called crippling to most servants.

With the saturation of the blasts neither Saber nor Berserker obviously escaped their impact, and Berserker roared out as some of Archer’s blasts showered them with energy. His skeletons leapt into their path, reducing the damage at the cost of their own selves as sacrificial shields.

Berserker himself continued to focus on Saber exclusively with the madness of his class. Swinging out at the wind slashes with his axes, his dematerialized one returning back in his hand. The attack of Saber was ripped apart and Berserker stared down the retreating Saber as she blasted around in her own defensive maneuver.

The message was clear, this was a battle that would not go very far. The concerns of his master, and the strange gathering of servants and masters brought to Berserker a new impetus, and so he retreated to the church to abandon the fight against Saber.

@Cu Chulainn @Crusader Lord @breo

The Servant that Benita had summed was pushing the opposing Servant into a corner, forcing him to reveal himself more and more as the battle continued. The Swordsman vs the Spearman. However, their martial prowess existed far beyond that, given their current battle.

… But a battle between Servants is a battle between Noble Phantasms.

The fact that “Saber” was fighting Lancer Prime without using his is proof that he is going easy on him. But his demeanor seemed to suggest that “Saber” would never hold back against an opponent. For a single mistake against Lancer Prime would be dead, and a single mistake against the Einzbern “Saber” would be the end of Lancer Prime.

Wa\s it the request by Benita not to utilize them? It was impossible to imagine that either of these Servants would hold back in the slightest, nor was it even imaginable that they would not go for the head if given the chance. Even if Lancer Prime had been ordered to “only get the arrows”, but the presence of “Saber” had prevented that. The two were monsters. Beings outside of what two Servants should be able to produce. A being that compared to a normal human would be the pinnacle of existence.

Benita could hardly talk.

She could hardly

She could hardly think

… But she was captivated.

The whirl of battle continued within the forest. Two shining examples of humanity were competing against one each other with the intent of obtaining a marginal prize. Something so petty could start a fight, but those were the purpose of the familiars that call themselves “Servants”. Beings who were told to fight against one another so that they might obtain the Holy Grail for their own; their “Master”.

Neither Benita nor her Servant Lancer wished to obtain the Grail for themselves, so perhaps they were kindred spirits. But whereas Lancer solely wished to combat against powerful souls like the “Saber” he was currently at odds with, Benita had a greater purpose to “save the world” but “not for herself”. Their purposes might have been different, but they were paired to obtain the Holy Grail, and so long as Lancer Prime was willing to follow her, it was not as if she could ask for a more powerful Servant.

The fight would continue for as long as she felt it was sustainable.

...

…

…

What was that?

A noise that should not have been there.

A single beat that seemed out of place from the battle.

Something that she knew, even for the briefest of moments that existed, should not exist within even the clashing of the greatest heroes of old there existed something even greater than what was within the visage of her Servant.

It seemed impossible that he didn’t realize what was occurring, but considering his enjoyment of the combat, he might not have been able to comprehend anything that existed outside of combat. To Lancer Prime and the Einzbern “Saber”, they existed in a bubble where even the presence of other battles would be inconsequential to their own fighting.

But as soon as Benita had even the thought to call upon Lancer to think about considering proposing a truce, she received a call.



“Lancer, you may use anything at your disposal t-”

But her words were cut off from their finish. Another call. But so soon after the previous?

-------------------------------------------------------





@CorpusMundum

“Yeah yeah Master,” Assassin responded, seemingly uninterested in the whole affair. “I’ll go survey the area I guess.”

She knew that espionage and the like were important for the success of any and all wars that were to occur; to succeed at a plot one must first obtain a plan worthy of defeating those whom they wish dead. But such actions were boring to the Assassin before Martin Caldwell. The Servant class he had summoned mattered not to her personality, after all, it was not as if she was a true “Assassin” in the sense of someone like the Hassan and the like. Orders were orders, but how could she put her all into something if they were boring!?

Assassin cared not for her Master. A boring man with a rather boring disposition. Perhaps her “other” form would find him rather interesting. A cultist who while not the greatest within the arcane arts attempted his all to better defeat the opponents of greater skill through greater influence. She could respect such actions, perhaps reminding her of her brother to an extent. Someone she both respected as her brother but despised enough to cause his death. Ss an “Assassin” of sorts, she could be considered top-notch. The lady who had orchestrated the deaths of half of the German canon. But that was no the person summoned. A pure maiden who wished only for one thing.

She hardly cared the time or place to where she was summoned, but within a Grail War of this scale, it would increase the likeliness of her “dream” coming true. A “reunion” that she wished to obtain without fail, and would continue to seek infinitely so long as “he” existed. She would seek him to the ends of the earth, even to restore his honor in his death.

Maybe she could find “him”? This mission could not be completely boring. If "He" was in the war, she would find him, and she would be happily reunited with "Him".

---

The situation just kept getting better and better, Suzaku reflected bitterly. First, the zombie incursion. Then, a full-blown battle between a probable Berserker and Saber right on his doorstep. Then Tesla, out of nowhere, decides that now is a good time for an alliance (not that he can blame him entirely on that front, only in regards to the timing) with the Berserker, and now, someone else has literally stormed their way past his Bounded Field. A Master, by the feel of things, and their Servant. Annoying. He feels at the LeMat in its holster at his hip. At least now, he might find a way to salvage the evening- going by his original plan, he can kill the intruder before his Servant can react, and thus be that much closer to the Grail. It would also let him vent some frustration to fill someone full of Devouring lead. Violent catharsis it may be, but still catharsis, nonetheless.

Speaking of, his Wolf was doing remarkably well, what with the kitbash job he'd done on it. The opposing zombie's arms lashed with incredible strength, but they could still only so much as cut through the top layer of fur and dermis- the armor he'd implanted under the skin did a sterling job of deflecting any blows from doing much more than glancing tears and scuffs. And that was when they hit. Tesla's overclocking allowed the Wolf to move and strike with incredible speed and strength. Still, it was very close- both combatants were being worn down, bit by bit, and would soon be mere piles of bone and constituent parts at this rate. Luckily, the enemy necromancer seemed to have only one of their unique zombies in play. Suzaku was quite lucky to field two. A quick mental command sent his other Wolf careening toward the zombie melee; it didn't matter as much if the two "survived," as it were- there were always more bodies to replace them, in a case like this, and he really only needed to stop the enemy undead from reaching the Church.

Suzaku looked up at the doors of the Church as he arrived, gritting his teeth, pulling the LeMat from his hip, and cocking the hammer into shotgun position- best to make sure he actually shot the interloper, rather than risk them getting away. Of course, it was right when his bloodlust was at its peak that the Master showed up. Unarmed. Raising his hands in surrender, requesting sanctuary.

As if I'm one of those Christian heathens, thought Suzaku, shuddering lightly. Regardless, the gun was still cocked and loaded. If he was going to follow through, now would be the time...

...

...He sighed, disarming and holstering the revolver, just as yet another Master waltzed up to the door. Carrying an unconscious man. He cursed. At length.

"We are very popular this evening," he growled, just short of murderous. He glanced between the two of them, still idly toying with the handle of his pistol. "I assume one of you is the Master of Berserker that my Servant mentioned? Marvelous," he spat sarcastically, pushing the doors of the church open. "Very well, inside, both of you. Try anything and I'll fill you with lead. Close the door behind you, this isn't a bloody barn. I'll put some tea on." He was rambling at this point, muttering almost to himself as he stalked into his base.

Tesla. Rendezvous at the doors. Activate the Fence. And prepare yourself for... surgery, I suppose- your little pet project, or one of them, at least, proclaims himself a doctor. Perhaps we can do something with that. He turned to his... "guests," with a weary sneer.

"Call back your Servants to the Church. Things are about to get bright, and I'd hate to end this evening on such a sour note."

---

@Reflection @Floodtalon @Breo @Scallop @Yukitamas @addamas

The moment that Berserker landed a clean hit on the Saber was when Tesla knew it was time to go. He didn't need to use Natural Genius to know that the battle was going to be winding down soon, prompting all Servants to return to their Masters to protect them form other Servants. It was common sense in a war like this really, which is why Tesla left about half a minute before Berserker did, arriving at the Church right as his Master began his telepathic message. Tesla. Rendezvous at the doors. Activate the Fence. And prepare yourself for... surgery, I suppose- your little pet project, or one of them, at least, proclaims himself a doctor. Perhaps we can do something with that. He laughed loudly at the description of the alliance he sought to forge, to compare something as trite as a non-aggression pact to one of the experiments he was so famous for in life was quite amusing. And he made sure his laughter was very audible to his Master through the link they shared.

Regardless, he followed Suzaku's instructions, activating the fence around the Church after Berserker made his way in. Keeping him out would be impossible after all, he would destroy the fence in his attempts to reunite with his Master, might as well save everyone some trouble. Regardless, Tesla remained ready for anything as the Berserker entered the Church. Tesla moved past Xerxes with haste, his posture radiating boldness and confidence as he reached a empty space where there had once been a podium, the head of the Church one might say. A fitting position for the Modern Prometheus, for even while missing an arm and being heavily poisoned one need only look at Tesla to see that he was confident as ever in his plans, with the ferocious looking smile of confidence on his face as his hand sparked with electricity. He raised his hand upward and then thrust it downward, forming a grand throne of lightning for him to rest his weary body. But even as he sat down, resting his lone arm on the armrest of the chair, he radiated the aura of a king almost.

After waiting for everyone to arrive, Tesla cleared his throat to get everyone's attention. "As you saw from the battle outside not ten minutes ago, the Holy Grail has summoned quite the Heroic Spirits this time around. I can tell you this with certainty, the next week will be the bloodiest week you've ever seen or will see in your life. If you are lucky, you will make it through this war seeing your enemies fall before you. If not, you won't be seeing anything ever again. But I believe you're all very lucky. After all, you have decided to unite under our roof, this bastion of purity in the midst of the battlefield named Fuyuki City!" Tesla slammed the armrest with his hand, a loud crackle of energy sounding off through the Church as he grew more and more excited through his speech, his manic smile growing wider.

"I would like to propose an alliance between all of us. I believe that with all our strength combined, not only can we make it through this war alive, but we can crush any who would oppose us under our heel, like stamping on a cockroach! Even the mightiest heroes couldn't hope to stand to the combined might of three warriors at once!" Tesla rose from his chair with purpose, beginning to pace back and forth as he continued his speech. "I can prove my claims with statistics as well! I've been running the numbers for the past ten minutes now, if the fight between the Saber and us had continued we would have inevitably overwhelmed her within the hour! And that's just with Berserker and I, imagine how quickly she could've been the dealt with if we had included a third Servant! The possibilities are endless!" Electricity was sporadically arcing from Tesla to the ground as he paced, his excitement peaking as he stopped right in front of his throne, turned towards the group once again, and swept his arm out towards everyone, looking like someone who had led his entire life.

"So I ask you all! Do you want to survive through this Holy Grail War? Do you want to see your foes driven before you? Do you wish to savor the taste of victory? If so, join us in our great experiment! Join us in our conquest!"

As the spear faded from Rider's hands as soon as he lunged it, his eyes widened, grunting in annoyance at how he had made such an error. He wasn't going to let his opponent capitalize on this, however. As soon as Lancer's legs met the ground, Rider exploded into action, pushing away to avoid getting locked by his opponents legs before propelling himself upward, lunging his fist up into an uppercut. The intent wasn't to strike his opponent's face, although that outcome would still be ideal, but to get himself off the ground and away from Lancer's grasp. Once that has been accomplished, Rider sprung back, pushing himself away from Lancer with yet another burst of prana as he lept backwards across the small ravine he had made just moments earlier. Landing on his feet and facing his opponent with his shield once again raised, Rider looked Lancer once again in the eyes, giving him the same fierce look he had at the beginning of their encounter.

As Rider stared down his opponent, he began to think more to himself of his current strategy. He had only intended to gauge Lancer's skill and perhaps even scare him off, but given the nature of just who his opponent was along with the fact that he was easily disarmed in their first trade makes a few things very clear to Rider. While he could still keep going with the strategy he had planned on using, he'll have to focus on fighting defensively until he could get a better opportunity to strike at his heel with his sword. Of course, that also involves picking up his sword first, having chosen to use a replica with just enough mystery to be used as a weapon rather than a sword from his own collection and therefore denying him the luxury of just manifesting it back in his hand.

Then again, he could always use that...

No, not tonight. While it definitely would be enough to cut through the armor, it may also ruin the mystery that Rider had already established to his current opponents regarding his identity. While that doesn't necessarily belong to Rider, it is still famously associated with him enough for his enemies to narrow down his identity. And while there aren't any inherent weaknesses that would be revealed despite his own level of fame, it will give away much of his trump cards. Still, however, Rider can't keep going just with what he's been using so far...

"I may have underestimated your skills at Pankration, but once I strike your heel, it will be over for you, Lancer!" Rider exclaimed as he stretched the fingers of his sword hand. A small part of him considered drawing that after all, but he soon clenched his hand into a fist, trying not to let his impulses get the best of his already sound strategy. "My instincts have already gotten used to your speed. This fight will keep going all night at this pace, Lancer, you and I both know that. My Master requests that I hold back for now, so unless you start giving it your all, how about we... talk about those arrows?"

Of course, Rider didn't intend to negotiate just so early into a fight he was having fun with. If anything, he was just stalling...

Master... I may have to borrow my steed just for a moment.

He frowned, quickly correcting his course so that he would be able to place an armored forearm between Saber’s uppercut and his exposed jaw, deciding to take the new situation as it came, adapt and create some distance between them, mirroring his opponent.

Still, he could not help but click his tongue in disappointment.

He had been unable to grab him.

It was not a complete failure — or, at least, that was Lancer Prime’s assessment of the situation. In a way, he supposed he should have expected it, with Saber having shown himself to possess outstanding intuition and matching reflexes.

Having that sort of advantages, only a complete fool would have neglected to answer his assault and simply let Lancer Prime do as he pleased. His ability with the art that had been pioneered by the greatest hero and the slayer of the Minotaur might not have been as great as those of his forerunners — but the level of skill he had attained in life and the corpses he had left in his wake spoke for themselves.

Whether it was his spearmanship or his pankration, his skill was not to be dismissed. Observing Saber carefully, he took the window offered to him by manifesting his spear once more, holding it lightly in his right hand while watching out for sudden moves.

His Master had contacted him with further instructions — or rather, attempted to, trailing off at the end and leaving him hanging, but thankfully she did not appear to be in trouble just yet.

That was good — he could not very well fight this man if he did not put his all into it. Worrying about his Master on top of that would make things harder.

Still, he supposed he should get to those arrows and leave, preferably soon — they had been fighting for a while regardless, and Saber had proven to be an excellent opponent. Unveiling his own trump cards — killing him right now — was not something Lancer Prime wished to do.

It was far too early for that.

However. . .

"I may have underestimated your skills at Pankration, but once I strike your heel, it will be over for you, Lancer!"

His shoulders tensed and he forgot all previous thoughts.

It was not a surprise that he knew about his weak point — it was part and parcel of being one of the most famous heroes in the entire world, and he had not really done much to hide it.

However, that single sentence had nonetheless caused a shift in Lancer Prime’s demeanor. If glares could kill, Saber would have definitely been ash by now.

He listened to his words with half a mind, saying absolutely nothing, continuing to fix him with that stare, and only when saber was done did he speak.

“. . .Talking about the arrows, then? Sure, sure. We can definitely do that if you’d like, but. . .” His arm drew back. “You should be able to multitask effectively, no Saber?” He questioned, and his voice could have driven crows off the battlefield.

It would be one thing to boast about being able to catch him.

It would be one thing to boast about being stronger.

But what Saber had done was. . .

“I don’t mind hashing out the details, but you’d better survive long enough for us to agree on the terms.”

Ah, he had only come to get those things and meeting him had been a great bonus — he did not think anything could have ruined the night, but then—

—Saber had gone and put him in a terribly foul mood.

He would listen, of course, but he was in dire need of an outlet.

So.

Without a single instant to prepare, he shot forward — opening with the same move he had launched toward Saber at the start of the match, his hero-killing thrust seeking to bite into the throat of the enemy.



@Cu Chulainn @Phonic

Rider had realized just now that his choice of words may have been too... condescending. Indeed, as someone who prefers to speak with his actions and has had to have his allies speak for him, words were not his strongest suit. Many of these times were because of his temper, but it seems that this time, he wasn't the one that had flew into a fury. While this reaction was unexpected, it was still something that was favorable, something that was to be exploited.

As Lancer launched his attack, Rider was already prepared, his empty hand winding back slightly. With his instincts, that can see through attacks and allow him to perform the best course of action to counter them, using the same attack on him is guaranteed for failure. Even for Lancer, whose considered to be the fastest, Rider's body and mind have already trained to defend against this attack as if he had already done so a hundred times. With a blast of prana erupting from his arm, he bashed away the spear, intending to disarm his opponent before stepping forward and headbutting him.

At this moment, Rider believed it was appropriate to exchange a few more words, this time choosing them more carefully. While making his opponent even angry would possibly open him up for another attack, Rider knows far too well that angering someone as powerful as Achilles would not end in his favor... Well, on the bright side, at least his opponent doesn't breathe fire.

"Like I said, you will only find destruction here... There are no arrows to begin with."

With those last words being said, Rider concluded his attack, throwing his prana-imbued fist straight into Lancer's center mass with as much might as he could muster. Knowing that his armor would reduce its damage, Rider had intended to have this punch push his opponent into the trench. Rider knew Lancer would easily climb out, but he needed to buy himself enough time to arm himself with his sword. Only then will he be able to finally reply to his opponent's attacks in earnest...

And with another spiritual presence entering the battlefield, Rider feels like this fight will finally be at his favor.

Every strike between the two was absolutely meant to kill the other. It was a mere matter of course. This was no friendly competition. Unlike with the fight between Achilles and Dietrich, there were no words beyond what Ruler had spoken earlier.

That was fine. In the first place, the divine torrent of steel between the two didn’t allow even a single syllable. Anywhere their fight led, the forest had been sundered. This was the only answer Ruler could have toward Casters tactics of hit-and-run strikes.

The red-figure known only as Caster had employed hit and run tactics almost constantly. In this battle, the forest was being used to his advantage as much as possible. He had constantly attacked Ruler, attempted to force an opening, then fell back as quickly as possible. Against a normal Hero, this may have spelled death but-

Ruler was not an ordinary Hero. He had only taken fairly grievous injury from Casters various guerrilla attacks. Multiple gouges and deep wounds lined his cursed body from various demonic and holy armaments. Weapons were strewn across the battlefield, embedded in both the earth and what little trees that remained. With the terrain being so devestated, Casters avenues for attack were being lessened by the second. The only reason Caster had not died was because he hadn't allowed Ruler to go on the offensive for even a moment.

In the moment Caster ran out of areas to launch attacks from, he would die. That was the level of difference between their skill, technique, and raw power. In other words, this battle should end. Both combatants realized this. And yet, Caster did not flee.

….Though it had been unsaid, this wasn't a serious fight from the start. That is because neither of them had spoken the name of their Noble Phantasm. In other words, neither was fighting with the intent to kill. In that sense, it could not be called a true fight between servants.

This was for multiple reasons. However, in Rulers case, that was because his objective wasn't to kill his opponent. He was 'merely' charged with sending him fleeing back to Fuyuki. Defeating one of the participants was not something Ruler should do. Rather, it was something to avoid. He was a neutral moderator, and he could disrupt the wars balance by killing even a single participant. In this case, he was just trying to convince his opponent that trying what he intended was a very bad idea.

The greatest language for a Heroic Spirit was of course their weapon arm, and Ruler wasn’t a man of many words in the first place. So the battle had wordlessly begun as if it was destined.

But it would not end wordlessly. Ruler had hit his limit. He could easily continue or finish this battle, but the amount of damage he had incurred from just one enemy was too much. This was a rare great opponent, someone who could only be answered with a serious response.

Because he was about to lose, Caster fell back dozens of meters. No, he wasn’t running away. He was preparing an attack. Was it his Noble Phantasm? Or perhaps some other trump card he had prepared in this territory?

Regardless, a great magical energy was being released. The various weapons across the battlefield shook in anticipation. As if on their own, they raised themselves and flung themselves at Ruler from all sides. Even more had been hidden before this battle, and they revealed their presence by adding themselves to the deluge of steel. It would absolutely destroy Ruler without distinction, flaying him into countless piles of meat and sinew.

In response, Ruler brought 'something' out of his massive satchel. It was a singular weapon capable of overturning an 'absolute death' such as this.

Alone, the weapon could not be considered a Noble Phantasm. But it was an awe-inspiring sight even by the standards of Servants. It was a great-bow the size of a siege weapon, something close to a ‘ballista’ in terms of size. The arrow being notched on it by the giant was of similar absurdity. There was no Hero that could notch that weapon. From sheer physical force alone, something like that could threaten even a Dragon. Even more, without the true name the worth of this Noble Phantasm wasn't even revealed yet. It was an insanity.

And yet before Casters very eyes, the bow was being drawn. It was a divine technique that exceeded the limits of humanity.

….From Casters perspective, it looked as if his opponent had more than a dozen arms, all pulling the string back at once. Whether this was the truth or just merely extreme speed, he could not tell.

One thing was certain, Caster was about to die. Moments before Ruler spoke the true name of his Noble Phantasm, Caster began to take evasive action.

But…

Casters error was made clear within moments of the true name release of the Noble Phantasm. The arrow fired was not something meant to be fired at humans in the first place. This was an attack meant to challenge even a castle. In other words, it was something meant to ‘destroy a fortress’ in the first place. How could a single human, even a Servant, stand against such a thing? To die against Rulers attack was simply the natural result.

It was like a divine torrent that washed away everything in front of it. Space, trees, demonic or holy weapons- the destruction of all was merely a ‘matter of course’.

Within moments, an entire section of the forest had simply become a churned up crater in an instant. Moments later, Ruler made his way back toward Fuyuki City. The tremors of such an attack could probably be felt by even the Servants making battle a meagre miles away, to say nothing of their masters.

However, there was a singular difference between Ruler as he had entered the forest, and this Ruler who was now leaving it. There was a slight ghost of a smile on his face now.

It was the face of a ‘man’ who had revived his joy of battle. Ruler was anticipating a new meeting with this truly worthy obstacle.

Fingers traced mesmerizing patterns upon the counter top, mindlessly following the grain and occasionally brushing upon the myriad of glasses that scattered the bar haphazardly. Perhaps, on a better, less inebriated day, the Astrologia scion could have identified the specific type of wood it originated from.

It was, of course, obviously not that day.

Nursing a glass of whiskey, Hamel blubbered on incoherently, tears having long since dried, eyes shallow and red. It was unsightly, especially for someone of his stature. Yet if anyone listened to his tale, one would be hard pressed to fault him for his current status.

Recollecting his experiences in the first day of the war, of the horrifying sights he was subject to, of the sheer illogical nature of Lancer, of his final rational thought, and the actions he had taken afterwards.

"And then they began to play tag," he choked out, "and I just, I just couldn't anymore. I just--"

A coughing fit interrupted his dramatic retelling of his trials, a fresh sob and tear escaping his body and wetting the trail of tears that were the remnants of his previous breakdown.

Dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief, he raised his reddened face up from his arms.

"So then I left with Lancer, and then we came here, and then, and then I got something to drink because of the things I saw and now I'm drunk."

With a sense of finality and excessive punctuation on the last word, Hamel Della Astrologia's heavy head slammed forward again into the cushioning embrace of his arms after he downed his glass.

"Another."

He yells out, voice muffled by his arms, arm raised towards the bartender.

@Sageage @Froppy @Paradox Witch

In the night, the Archer had departed, an absurdly large stack of flyers in hand.

...What followed was something a touch absurd, to say the least.

This was the fact that a Servant ran around the city, and even its outskirts, posting flyers everywhere he could.

After doing this, he switched gears to turn the remaining flyers into paper airplanes, which through use of his future self’s sight abilities, were harmlessly tossed into every open window he could find and tossed onto the welcome mat of every house without an open window.

It went without saying though that he refrained from entering any workshops, but with his level of skill, he didn’t need to enter them to launch a paper airplane onto their doorstep. And he was doing it to every doorstep in Fuyuki.

It could be said, then, that every Master in Fuyuki was likely to see a flyer before too long.

@Art of Fun@addamas@ManyThings@Argonaut@Vocab@Breo@Kyoka@Froppy@Sageage@Crusader Lord@Phonic@DostHou@Reflection@Scallop@BlueHelix@Seirei No Hai@Ent@floodtalon@EnterTheHero@Red Alice@ReallyDumb@Black Alice

For reference’s sake, if it has been forgotten.

And so, as the Divine Spirit Bartender poured the bar’s first customer another drink, and Archer himself returned to his domain, all was well.

Pelion’s Pub was open for business.

@Sageage@Manythings

That night... A little over nine hours ago, Roland had chased after that lancer servant.

She leapt back from his kicks, and for a moment he was unbalanced. Still not perfectly adjusted to having to fight with hand to hand. But he stuck the landing none the less, holding a bright red spear in his hand. His eyes drifted along it, and he realized as he spun it in his hand... This wasn't steel, or metal. It was bone. The heavy thunk of the blade as he smacked it against the ground screamed not metal, but a bone from some kind of creature. It was gone before he could think further on it, the blade vanishing in particles of light.

Then he was chasing. Leaping after her, and since he didn't consider the match ended, he wasn't completely outmatched in speed. Just a bit. He couldn't allow this servant to merely run off, and since she had been forced to leave so quickly, that meant only one thing, she was making a bee-line for her master. He chased, and in the distance he could see the smoke, the burning sky and the gutted insides of the Matou Mansion. Grinding to a halt, he realized with a smirk who this servant belonged to.

"Matou Servant, may we meet again!" Roland shouted, and he turned to make his retreat, knowing she wouldn't chase, not with her master in danger. Master, I know more about our enemy. She is the servant of the Matous. Roland confided with his master through their link, as he made his quick return to his master's side. The Matou mansion wasn't far enough from their duel to have gone unnoticed. The Foreigner district was large, but not large enough to hide in. "I suspect we may have to withhold spending time at the Matou Manor. But for now, our mystery lancer wields a weapon of bone. This limits the options by a great deal. I won't put a name on her yet, but I suspect she is a top tier servant, and one we should avoid in the future unless ready." Adjusting his cape, Roland marched alongside his master, and probably sought out the nearest place to get food at this hour.

_________________________________________________________________
Day 2: Shinto Town - Heading to the Bar
@Sageage

In his hand, Roland had a poster. Part of him was honestly amazed such a thing was actually happening. A bar? Run by a man with terrible fashion sense and his master's missing rear half? For a moment he wondered if that was the plan to begin with. Combine his master with Chiron, and then? Well, would that make a horse and a person? He was probably overthinking the whole thing. But hey, it did bring a smile to his face.

He gazed down the road, but he felt... Odd. In fact, he noticed upon entering Shinto town that there seemed to be a lack of animals. As if they'd all been taken away. But that wasn't important. Instead, he was leading his master to the bar, since after all it seemed only worthwhile to meet other Masters and their servants who might be drawn to such an invitation. "Master, are you sure this is safe? I love springing a good trap, but this is fairly obvious." Flicking the paper a little, the knight of Charlemagne took out a marker, and began to draw crude little mustaches onto the photos of the duo who owned the bar. "But then again, such a thing would be the most western of experiences, wouldn't it?"

_____________________________________________________________


As the mysterious church owning master gripped his gun, Xerxes was ready. In the motion it would take to raise that gun, he could r- That thought was cut short by a second master, with one of the fake masters. Was this luck? No, it couldn't be. It was destiny. It was Xerxes birthright. The world once more provided him the means to reach his goals. Even more so when the person who carried the fake master was one of the very mages he had been looking for. And the situation was better than the numerous others he had put through his head.

Then there was Archer. Such a strange man, but he could tell at a glance that this was no weak servant. This was the man who wielded lightning earlier. Berserker was at Xerxes side as he entered the building, and with a command, the behemoth closed the doors behind them. While they were guaranteed the victory against Saber had the battle not been forced to end, it was clear that servant was part of the Matous. The attack was one of pursuit, and not one of arrival. That meant he had been chased. And an alliance... Well at least he wasn't the one proposing it.

"Archer, I see you mistake my goal in this war." Xerxes smiled, hand over his heart as he spoke. "I am a doctor. It is my goal to make sure that while this war it won, it is not because all masters and citizens of this town have been killed." He smiled, and glanced around the room. "While I will help you in an alliance to win the war, I shall do my best to save the lives of civilians and masters involved. If you are willing to accept that, then I can see no reason why we shouldn't ally ourselves for this war." It didn't matter to him if this archer was a king, or some divine being. There was no reason for Xerxes to reveal his true nature. He was indeed a doctor, but it wasn't lives he was here for. But the treasures of other mages. And judging from the rather impressive constructs just outside, he knew without a doubt he had entered a jackpot. Besides, no half-way decent human being would deny him the chance to act as a healer in a war like this. Not when the benefits of having him around to begin with were much greater.

And in that moment, he had his alliance. They would need more masters and servants to truly win, but he suspected that would come in time. Just finding the right person was enough.

_________________________________________________________________
Day 2: The church

Xerxes took claim to the basement. It was perfect for his work, and while he sat up, he had already taken Archer aside for the operation. It wasn't a complex operation by any means, but it was rather revealing. The poison that had afflicted the archer was... Alcoholic in nature. That just made the detoxing a tad more complicated, but either way, it was less than an hour before he had managed to rid the servant of the poison. And best of all, he had managed to collect the poison into a flask. Something he would need for later.

With Archer recovering, and probably left to his own devices, Xerxes had managed to collect his luggage from his former base. And within an hour after the alliance had formed, Xerxes was gardening. His bounded fields place around, and slowly focusing on a new task. The task of growing a garden of Haoma. The mythical herb that grew in the caves of Persia. It was beloved, and it was the source of his long life. The plant was sensitive to the light, and until fully grown, should not be exposed to direct sunlight. In fact, the Doctor had to grow it in pure darkness when he was younger. Doing it in the basement of a church was child's play.

With a field of fertility established, Xerxes finally stepped from the basement. Berserker had been acting as his shadow inside the building, and while the great king wasn't allowed inside the mage's basement workshop, it was more because the ceiling was low, and less because the berserker wasn't wanted. "Oh, if only you had been a rider. We could have such interesting conversations." Xerxes lamented. But he had to make do with his current situation, and Berserker was probably the strongest servant in the room, physically at least.

"Ludwig, are you around?" He spoke loudly, but not at a shout. Rather just to see if he could find the other mage. He had questions to ask and all that other stuff.

As the sun rose and the roosters crowed, the Masters of the Church Alliance would awake to the smell of ham floating through the air along with the sounds of a busy kitchen. "Remember, you're only toasting the muffins until they are a light golden brown, anything more and the composition of the dish is completely ruined. Then we have to start all over again, everything must be perfect!" Anyone who entered the kitchen would bare witness to the sight of both Archers in cooking aprons while preparing various foods. She had protested at first, both to being forced into cooking and the cooking apron, but Tesla's Single-Minded nature couldn't be deterred and she inevitably ended up in the kitchen. The cooking aprons were also incredibly pointless, but Tesla absolutely insisted on them because "Safety in both lab and kitchen is paramount!" They would also notice the many different kitchen appliances Tesla had built, all running off of System Keuranos. The kitchen was comparable to a five star restaurant, no even better. It was a restaurant of the future, just as Tesla was a man of the future. Berserker was also in the kitchen, wearing a matching apron, but he wasn't doing much. A Berserker can't perform delicate tasks like simmering butter after all.

Breakfast would be ready soon after, most of the pews in the Church had been demolished to make room for a large steel table that seated everyone. As Tesla served the various plates to the Masters, even making enough for the Servants if they wanted to eat, he prattled on about the exact nutritional facts of the eggs benedict he was serving, speaking so fast that nobody could actually understand a word he said. After breakfast was finished, Tesla collected the plates just as quickly and rushed back to the kitchen, dumping them all in the sink for someone else to clean. "I am off to the marketplace to get groceries, the ingredients in this fortress of the gods are quite lacking." He said as he walked past Suzaku, throwing on his coat as he opened the door and left. Tesla didn't bother closing the door behind him as he stepped on a flyer which had landed on the front step, not paying any attention to the stray piece of paper. He needed to gather his materials as quickly as possible if he wanted to be in time for lunch.

---

The kindly old shopkeeper smiled as Tesla carefully studied an orange, prattling on about how kids these days just didn't pay attention to the quality of the food they were eating. He nodded without really listening, placing the orange back on the table as he reached for another one to study this one in closer detail. A scientist cannot work with poor materials after all. Ten minutes later Tesla was gone with a sack of ingredients in one hand and an apple in another. As he took a bite of the apple, he observed the small town with a hint of a smile on his face. To be alive again, what a miracle. And not only did he live, he lived in the time of his own greatest inventions. This ritual has given him a second chance at life, a second chance to fulfill his dream of granting mankind infinite power. But he would not use the Grail to do so, no. that would be much too easy, hardly even an accomplishment really. Instead he would use the Grail's power to give himself a flesh and blood body once more, achieving his dreams with his own hands. Armed with knowledge of both magecraft and the most advanced science, he could set forth into the world with confidence and power that he had never had in his first life.

As Tesla day dreamed of his return to the living, he was snapped out of his musings by a flyer pinned to the wall of a shop. "Hmm. How odd." It appeared to be advertising a bar run by two men with a very strong bond from what he was reading. Gin and... Chiron? Tesla instantly accessed the Throne of Heroes databse just to confirm his suspicions and found himself proved right. Chiron, the centaur who had taught so many famous heroes. 'Master, you may want to see this.' Assuming Suzaku activated the link between Servant and Master, he would be greeted by the flyer in Tesla's hand. Whether this be a challenge, taunting all and prodding enemies to attack just to see what happens, or just a regular old bar, one thing was for certain. Tesla was definitely going to go there later, he absolutely adored alcohol in life. But right now, he wanted to get back to the Church. So he continued on his merry way, musing what his first drink would be. Perhaps a stiff bottle of whisky would be good.

The frown remained present, features stony even as Saber’s counter struck and sent him to the trench, the sensation of pain muted despite the distance and force.

He wondered if that was just his natural ability or the fact that he was annoyed with his opponent. As he flew back toward the trench, he twisted so as to fall on his feet and then jumped back once more, creating proper distance between himself and Saber — whom he carefully observed with narrowed eyes.

His words had drained the good mood he had felt, and this bout had gone on for long enough. He toyed with the idea of going straight for the kill, but even the annoyance was not enough to overcome his desire to have an all-out battle with the swordsman at some point down the line.

After all, neither of them had put everything on the line here — a battle between Servants was a battle between Noble Phantasms, and neither he nor his opponent had revealed all their cards yet.

He could, but he would not. It all came back to that single-minded desire that had built up over the course of the skirmish — Saber was doubtlessly a great hero in his own right, even if Lancer Prime had yet to guess at his true identity. He would have to be, to even begin to keep up with him.

It was far too early to kill such an enemy, regardless of their words. He scowled, circling, but maintaining a distance between both of them, lowering his own spear minutely —

And then the sound of the explosion reached him before the following tremor. His head snapped toward the source for a second, surprise apparent in his features. Had another battle taken place so close by? He must’ve truly been off in his own little world to not to notice.

He turned his gaze back toward his opponent, eyes narrowed and wondering if there was more to this matter, before slinging his own weapon on his shoulders. The bloodlust that had emanated from him until seconds prior was gone, replaced by a relaxed air.

“. . .I didn’t see any when I came, so I’ll take your word for it,” Saber had not struck him as a liar. Confident to the same degree Lancer Prime was, yes, but not dishonest, and he admitted that such confidence was well-earned. “Besides, the mood’s ruined now. We can leave it here and kill each other in earnest later — it would not make for a good story if I ran the one good opponent through the first day and then everything else was a disappointment.”

He paused, half-turning in the direction of the explosion.

“That said, I wouldn’t be surprised if my little Master is as interested in that as I am, so I’ll be going to take a look before leaving. Feel free to follow.”

He had not asked for permission, nor did he seem to feel threatened by the possibility of Saber attacking him — his fighting mood had left him, and if he wanted to leave, there was not a thing the swordsman could do to catch him. His speed might be excellent, but Lancer Prime was extolled as the absolute swiftest among Heroic Spirits.

Even if Saber gave chase, he’d just take a look, circle back and make it out once again. Easy.

@Cu Chulainn @Phonic