"Master..."a disembodied voice said in Ryte's head.

"I must thank you for taking me on last night. It was an unfortunate set of circumstances that left me masterless and you without a servant so late in the game. It was lucky I was able to intercept you before I faded from this world. For that I am greatful. I am going to remain in this form until I regain my full strength. I should be ready for tonight."

Honda paused.

"...Are you sure we can trust your ally? I mean, they did kind of murder your previous servant."

---

Andrews and his Servant had arrived in the Canal District. He quickly put up a boundary of concealment around himself and observed the goings on of the Master's meetings from afar through a spotting scope. How a Master was able to amass enough resoures to claim the entire Cite was a mystery to him considering it was not only a public museum but also the largest science museum in Europe. He smirked a bit, the irony of a mage seeking sanctuary in a complex dedicated to science was not lost on him.

Andrews was tempted to get a closer look but decided not to aggro several masters at once. For now he stayed put.

"Oh to be a fly on that wall. We are going to need some help to handle these guys. I think we might be wasting our time here. What do you say, Lancer?"

---

@Seirei No Hai @King Cosmos

---

"This looks to be the place, Rider."

His pulse quickened as he looked upon the workshop from the outside, or more specifically, for what it represented. Yes, he could not obtain victory in this war merely by standing at the side and praying for the other competitors to kill one another off. He had to take action, had to seize his victory with his own two hands.

An Orchelas cannot be evil. But, if he must commit evil to fulfill the family's dreams, if he must stain his hands in the hopes that his descendants might cast off all evils, then there cannot be hesitation.

A soft exhale left him. No doubt, even though he had yet to cross the boundary line, the Master and Servant within the workshop would certainly have noticed his presence as well as that of Rider by now. In that sense, there could not be hesitation. Even though he was not a true magus, he knew that to attack a magus within their workshop was an act of foolishness; after all, a workshop was where a magus was at their most powerful. Yes, even if both he and his partners had developed countermeasures to such things, it would not do to be overconfident about such things. Every response would need to be measured. Every action would need to be prepared. He did not know if this would become 'a battle to the death', but had to plan for the worst.

The right hand of the elderly man disappeared. Not as if it had simply been hidden away in a pocket, but rather, it seemed to suddenly blink out of place, as through it had been cleanly severed at the wrist.

"My opposition, I ask that you please avoid from contributing to the battle to come, and that your Servant comes forward to engage my own, without risk of damage to either of us."

A voice tinged with melancholy called out, unsure if the magus within would even be able to hear him. What was the person within like? What were their aspirations, their dreams? Had they also never killed before, or were they seasoned, numb to it? Who cared for them? Who would mourn their death? Why did they fight? What did they love?

"If they do not oblige within a reasonable time..."

His heart pounded in his skull, veins on his right wrist bulging out slightly as he resolved himself.

"...Rider, go."

---

This place was found? Despite the fine pieces that shroud it? Fair enough, I suppose.

Hemlock crossed the room, passing between numerous easels covered by cloths, more than there had been last night, arranged in the most pleasing formation he had been able to manage. He was able to detect the opposing pair as they approached the boundary of his building. That being the case, they would see a second-story window swing partially open at their arrival.

"You're shaking, sir." A younger man's voice called down to the elderly Master. "Even so, you're bold to approach a workshop so directly. My Servant will come down there to kill yours, and then you'll be free from all this stress. You'll have no more reason to tremble."

He sounded calm. Not disinterested, but no more than irritated. Was this the "cold blooded murdering magus" Cerzelium had imagined he would meet, then? No. How the old man interpreted him was another matter, but the truth was he was simply focused on other things. The idea that his studio was under threat captured his attention, but since it was simple a duel of Servants there was little chance his art would be harmed. Still, there was no telling how things would end up if things went wrong.

The window closed.

"Attack immediately, Lancer. This isn't a fight where you can get much use from your favoured tactics of retreating and confounding the enemy. Stand strong and defeat that Rider. Use your Noble Phantasm if that's what it takes to get rid of the threat."

He stepped back into the room and stacked together a few key canvases from different easels. Best to be ready if the place had to be abandoned. With that done, he idly picked up a smaller handheld canvas and began a portrait of the magus below. All this was done with greater investment that his words to Cerzelium. There could be no effort or precaution too great when it came to art, after all.

---

@Sunglass@Unoedipal@Phonic

Madhisi observed the two who "called" her here with a not small air of discomfort about her. Perhaps it was because of the way her left arm still ached despite she having treated it earlier, and that -- even now -- it was wrapped in bandages soaked with a healing ointment all the way to her fingertips. Or perhaps it was because they were flaunting so openly in front of her?

"I cannot say that I'm thankful for it. But, paying back debts is the way of my people," she said, staring back at the other Master. As she did so not only her gaze but her voice was tinged with a trace of sorrow and hatred for someone that wasn't there. "I... wasn't aware this was going to be so difficult when I set my mind on it..."

---

---

@Froppy@Player 2@Floodtalon

As one of the Servants he met yesterday came into the area of their meeting, Tristan turned around. He was facing the other man's direction. In fact, the red-haired Archer's eyes weren't even open, but the fact that his attention was directed to both him and his Master for a moment was unmistakable. A Servant like Tristan had no way of detecting Mages, but if they came this close to him, he could notice them with ease.

For a moment, it would be as if a hawk were watching them from above, ready to dive as soon as it spotted at openings. However, it wouldn't be long before Tristan faced away from them. With his eyes closed and head lowered it would be difficult for most to even guess whether or not he was awake or sleepwalking. But certainly, a Knight of the Round Table wouldn't do something such as sleeping on the battlefield, would he?

Nevertheless, the Archer's thoughts were focused into another issue at the moment. If this knight was were, it meant that his allies would also be soon enough, which included Sir Ywain and his Master. The latter of which Tristan had to make payback for the wounds inflicted to Yazhu in the previous night.

Tristan didn't blame Noon for his actions. Killing is only natural of a knight. Even women, children, and the elderly shall meet their end if they step on a battlefield. However, it was just as natural-- no, it was demanded of a knight to avenge their Lady's honor. The moment he chose to lay a hand on Yazhu, Noon accepted that he would become the target of Tristan's ire. He'd better be prepared for that.

---

---

@ManyThings

Lancer stood beside his Master within the confines of the bounded field, also staring across the canal at the location of Caster’s workshop. His civilian clothing from the previous night had been replaced by his robes and armour, signifying their change in priorities compared to their last excursion; his spear like an oversized novelty item was propped against his shoulder in a relaxed pose, though the Khan was ready to bring it to bear in an instant should the occupants of the museum show any signs of having noticed their presence.

“Attacking an enemy in their fortress is rarely a wise approach; the advantage goes to the defenders more often than not, unless you can catch them by surprise. That said, I am no stranger to assaulting strongholds; I had a slight reputation for doing so in my youth. If you give the order to attack I will follow your command and do my best to bring our enemies to a swift end.”

@ItMeGritty

----




Ever the cautious one, Cleo had hidden herself within a bounded field as soon as she and Saber had arrived at the location of last night’s meeting; strangely enough she had chosen the location of Noon and Yazhu’s fight, an alleyway tucked in between two buildings, as her hiding place, though she had no idea that was the case. Regardless, Saber speaking out loud was probably enough for anyone listening in to realise she was here somewhere even if they didn’t know where exactly.

“If they died last night then that was their fate; we will have lost both an ally and an enemy and neither are that important given the scale of this conflict.” Seeing Saber wave at someone Cleo used her connection to the Paladin to see through his eyes for a moment, seeing further and sharper than ever before as she spied a figure standing atop the Pantheon some distance away. “If Ywain is dead then we have all the more reason to fear Archer.”

Saber had already said Archer was a bigger threat to them than either Ywain or that Lancer from last night. If he had managed to kill another Saber Servant, and an Arthurian Knight at that, then that meant their own chances of victory were low. “We’ll wait a while longer. If no one arrives then we’ll consider this alliance broken and go meet the Lancer and his Master.”

@ManyThings

@SSW@ManyThings @1Charak2 @Sunglass @Cu Chulainn @Crusader Lord @King Cosmos




The strike was strong, but her guard was surprisingly robust. He had used plenty of magical energy, enough to strike down most, but her defense was enough to leave her whole in shape, if not fully untouched in condition.

“Ah… so it is.” he whispered after her as she retreated. Ywain mentioned his own conclusion of his fight and he simply nodded as both of his companions made their way to him.

Ywain came in with a surprising swiftness as only a Servant could. But Elaine... Elaine flew. The girl had shed her mask, a small little thing in truth. Normal modern wear was replaced with a a beautiful dress, and fluttering on her back was a pair of wings like those of a butterfly, sprinklings of sparkling dust dispersing into the air around her with each flap. She wasn't human at all. She was, along with Ywain, his familiar and companion.

Elaine the Fairy.

“Scary, scary. You know, if they wanted to attack me I don’t think even I could be ok.”

“Next time you’ll stay with me. But your eyes were a lot of help.”

“Of course, of course… Anyway what’s important is that you’re ok. She was pretty tough to take that wasn’t she? Ah, of course if she didn’t run you’d have beaten her.”

“I’m not sure about that. There could be more that she didn’t reveal yet. She’ll be prepared more next time anyway.”

Noon moved to sheath his blade on reflex… only to note the rather large problem with that motion that he noticed during the fight. A fact that wasn’t important in the moment in a struggle to the death, but rather important now at the end of it.

“...”

“What’s wrong?”

“Logres is gone. I think… someone took-“

“Whaaaaaaaa?!”

The girl’s mixture of a bombardment of questions and chastising remarks rained down on the young knight who simply stared at his blade in silence.

He’d lost it. Or worse, let someone steal it. Was he so absorbed in the fight that he lost sight of his responsibilities and duties? Was he just so unable and inept that someone plucked such a thing away from him? What would his father say? What would that man they aspired to be like say?

His thoughts looped together, waves of disbelief, plummeting gut-twisting guilt and confusion assaulting him. How could he lose such a thing? In truth their battle performance would not be harmed by the loss of Logres, but the mystery of the Glorypledge, and the pride of the Triswichs would be besmirched.

Was he truly a mistake as those around him called him in soft spoken whispers? A foolish tryst, a laughable result from a unsightly pairing.

Ah, father. If duty was everything then why did you pursue such a silly love?

That thought flashed through his dark clouded mind for a moment and send a greater pang of pain through his heart. To berate his father and blame his circumstances was one thing. But to think anything close to the idea that the love of his parents, or that his mother was a mistake.

How disgusting.

…

“Well we’ll just have to go find it and get it back! It should be easy enough!”

“Huh?”

“You heard me. If something’s lost or stolen you just get it back. That thing’s older than you, and so am I. We don’t disappear all that easy you know! You’re going to win this war and get Paris right? So you shouldn’t worry even if you lose a leg or an arm, let alone a paperweight!”

“...If it’s just a paperweight then why bother getting it back then?” he croaked out. His throat felt a bit numb, but there was a hint of a amusement in the rough voice.

“Nevermind that. We’ve got work to do. Why don’t we go home and take care of our business and get some rest first?”

“Yeah.. sure.”

“Leave it all to me. Get some sleep and work on getting the sheath back. I’ll take care of everything. A hero doesn’t have to do the dirty work, and we’ve got enough help to make sure you don’t need to shovel dirt anymore.”

“I don’t mind dirt… It smells nice.”

“You’re still a bit of a dirty little boy aren’t you? Honestly, you, dogs and pigs. I’m not sure who’d enjoy rolling in mud the most. But I guess your father was fine with that stuff either. Still, you even like the smell of that dirt?”

The smell of death, the somewhat unsettling feeling it brings to most people. The dirt of a burial mound would surely be something that was notable to the senses of a magus.

“I don’t mind it at all.” he said, now sobered up. “It smells like you, Elaine.”

"Eh wha?!-"

The smell of death, the smell of spirits, the feeling and presence of lingering fragments and memories.

The girl turned into a fairy, a ghost made into a godmother.

He smiled at her.

"Hmph."

She turned away.



The form of the forest was changing.

The sounds of harlots and excited, impatient men gave way. Yet the giggles and flirtatious cries did not disappear. A sickening sweetness, mixed in with a tinge of malice, both intentional and innocently inherit brought the leaves to sway. Dancing lights, strange hypnotic circles and trees that seemed to bend under the wind in ways that formed paths. To step in that forest was to be confronted with a fairytale.

How terrible, how sweet.

She flew among the skyline of the forest, watching as it expanded, slowly encroaching forward and also growing thicker. This was no longer simply a park meant to be a contained exhibit to stare at for city folks, but a genuine forest of the wilds and fey.

Dancing ghosts turned faeries bounced upon mushrooms in their moments of break. Mountains were colored with the cold and dark feeling of death as graves. The dead of the forest gathered and were painted anew. This was no longer a place for humans, no longer a place for man. The boundary between death and life blurred, between illusion and reality.

It was a place where she felt rather at ease at, but that wasn’t what she came to Paris for.

She dropped down onto one of the roads leading out where two other figures were waiting. Her wings disappeared and her dress was replaced with a simple outfit of a short, cap, overalls and a rather trendy and heelies. Apparently the fairy enjoyed skating when she walked as a more normal girl.

“Let’s go, ok?” she grinned before skating away, leaving a trail of sparking lights from her shoes and hints of leaking dust.



“Sorry we’re a bit late.” Noon declared as he walked in with a proper posture and confident yet relaxed gait. I had to prepare for a hunt after our meeting. There was a thief and I needed to make sure I could track him down.”

A few faeries taken from his in-Paris home wandered the cities. Giggling and laughing even as he wandered about alleyways and streets, unseen and yet certainly not unfelt. A prank or two played as they went, unable to resist. But with the guidance of the sword they slowly helped form the image in his head.

Yes, the thief is there.

But for now.

“My lady. I hope that you are not too cold this evening having to wait for a knight that has foolishly kept you waiting.”

"Ahh, it was about time," Tristan thought as he heard the approach of Ywain's Master and then, his greeting to the other knight's one. The fact that Noon referred to her as a woman caught the Archer's attention for a moment but was quickly dismissed to the back of his mind. "If need be..." was the only thought he would spare towards this matter.

He still wasn't facing their way, instead, he had his profile turned towards the group's meeting spot as the wind billowed his cloak and hair while Tristan "gazed" at the west, in the direction in which the sun mad its dive under the horizon not too long ago. Or perhaps, if one paid proper attention... was it northwest that he faced? Like a literal portrait of melancholy and beauty that any painter would give their life for the chance to put into their canvas. A knight that longed for a distant place, not only in space but in time itself.

The days that'll come no more. Did he really have the right to seek atonement for his deeds? There was only one way of knowing, were the last thoughts in Tristan's mind as he brought his hand to Failnaught.

"Now, what shall you do, my friend? Your actions will decide your Master's as well as your own fate in this night..."

---

---

@ManyThings@Danchou@King Cosmos

“ARE YOU READY!?” This was the vocal cry that filled the air. For in the gardens, by the side of a walkway, stood Chieko, her apprentice sitting nearby with a tip jar, and… A mysterious stranger.
“We come to you from the far reaches of Japan!” Chieko continued, speaking to the people of the park. Many were there for a date, some there to get some park food from a vendor, and some just trying to get a nice walk in before the sun set. But at that moment, eyes were being drawn. Pulled from their mundane and dull lives to the exotic trio. With a fan in hand, Chieko held it up high. Demanding attention through a focus point.
“We come from a shinto temple, buried deep in the mystical homelands.” There was a rattle of the coin jar, so the odd audience member might toss in their change. “Indeed, our trials have been hard, but our convictions have never softened. But, this is thanks to my faith in the great goddess Amaterasu, and her brother Susanoo! And then more so to the brave warrior who carried us through peril! The great, Usagi Yojimbo!” She stepped aside, fan snapping shut as she gestured at the warrior woman standing to her side. A rabbit mask added to hide her face.
“With grace, precision, and talent, she cuts with the grace the gods had given her. As we shall demonstrate NOW!”
Her foot kicked at the air, and struck a basket of fruit. Apples, oranges, pears oh my! All flying high into the air, and arcing down upon the stage.

Within a mere second’s span, the odd yojimbo moved, hands towards the sword, making several unnecessary flourishes but yet… each arc speaks of experience. With a final thrust, they caught one on the blade of the katana, pushing up the mask slightly to take a bite out of it. There was an air of smug arrogance to all their moves, but yet it wasn’t derogatory. Smirking, they bowed before the audience.

It took but a mere fraction of her speed to accomplish these feats, but to move faster than that meant the audience couldn’t follow the action. Ninjitsu was disguise. Disguise was performance. In terms of performance, she was unparalleled! Or at least, that’s how she liked to think.

There was another shake of the coins, and the fan snapped back to full length. “Once more, the talent of the old ways shines through. Such talent and grace has only just now come to your lands. But we shall be back, tomorrow! And the next day! Another dazzling display of skill each night! And during the day, I can read your fortunes!”

By the time she was done, the crowd had begun to depart. Stage performance was so simple, and yielded such small rewards as far as money could be concerned, but there was something thrilling about such independence. As the crowd vanished into the night, Chieko smiled, giggled, and glanced at her assistant.
“Soooo, Tomo-kun, how much did we make today?” Chieko winked, despite her assistant’s constant frown.
“My name’s not Tomo…” He said, tapping the bandage on his forehead. “But, this was a good night. We put on five shows in the last hour, and made roughly two hundred francs in donations. When you can cut up fruit, people feel just a bit more invested in keeping you from turning to crime and poverty, huh?”
“Huh, I guess that is a factor. Well, for now, a performance marked so well, and if we keep this we’ll be able to afford dinner at a fancy restaurant.” Chieko said, turning to Hanzo. “Hey, think of it as my treat when this is all over and you’ve got your wish.”

Hanzo had already sat down, sighing. No matter how long she did it, or how experienced she was, there was always that odd feeling whenever she put on an actual performance, one that had audiences turn up to see her specifically. It never ceased to make her tired, but there was also that feeling of satisfaction whenever she finished one.

“Ah, I’ll be keeping you at your words then.”

In truth, she wasn’t sure of her own survival; from what she had seen, the enemies they faced were strong. A ninja never fights a battle they know they cannot win, but… practically, that sometimes cannot be avoided. Hanzo was doing everything she could to win, of course, but one small misstep and…

“We’ll definitely win.”

It wasn’t much to say… But the smile between them made it clear. Even if they both died, they were still a cut above the expectations. “Good to hear that, now lets get packed up. That way we can start scouting for the war.”

Their day had been largely uneventful to say the least, it was mainly spent recuperating from the mistakes of last night while her familiars did all the scouting. Unfortunately no results came up, so tonight would be another night of scouting by foot, their first stop being the Bois de Boulogne. The park may seem like an unlikely place for a Master to set up shop, however the ready supply of animals in the Zoo would be useful in regards to a large amount of Magecraft. Not that any of that was on her mind right now, no the more important thing was the blatant disregard for secrecy shown by one Chieko Katsu.

“We come from a shinto temple, buried deep in the mystical homelands. Indeed, our trials have been hard, but our convictions have never softened. But, this is thanks to my faith in the great goddess Amaterasu, and her brother Susanoo! And then more so to the brave warrior who carried us through peril! The great, Usagi Yojimbo!” Her features were neutral, but on the inside she was in absolute shock. Chieko Katsu was not only away from her family, something Nobukara had thought impossible when she had stayed at their temple all those years ago, but she was a Master in the Holy Grail War. It really is a small world huh? “With grace, precision, and talent, she cuts with the grace the gods had given her. As we shall demonstrate NOW!” The Servant performed with grace and style to say the least, a lesser person couldn't be faulted for immediately jumping to the conclusion that this has to be a Saber class Servant with those kinds of skills. But rarely were things so cut and dry, so Nobukara withheld her judgement.

"Lord Nobunaga, I know that girl." Indeed, this was not the first time Chieko and Nobukara had crossed paths. During her journey across Japan to gain knowledge and experience she had met many people along the way. They taught her and gave her shelter, in exchange she would perform various tasks for them that only a ninja could do. She was 23 when she first wandered into the Katsu Temple, a simple place inhabited by a kitsune spirit. The house was led by the eldest sister, Atsuko, while her younger siblings were born to be servants to follow her every whim. The second eldest, Chieko, followed her duties with nary a complaint yet Nobukara always felt it. That flame in her eyes that showed when nobody else was looking. The spark of rebellion. While she sympathized with the girl it was no business of hers in the end, she left after three months of living like a shrine maiden. She learned of the power of words and Kiai from Chieko, mainly because Atsuko had no interest in actually teaching their guest anything herself, something instrumental in developing her ofuda and her Magecraft in general.

They stayed for the entire performance of course, even if this was clearly nothing close to what that Servant could do, any information could be useful should words fail and battle erupted. The crowd slowly dispersed near the end, Nobukara moving to the front of the crowd as the show ended. "Lord Nobunaga, I believe it may be best to open dialogue with the pair. They could be useful allies now that I have been injured." The two of them sat down, talking about what their next move would be most likely, when Nobukara made her move. The Servant would almost definitely feel her approach, but she made sure to show no hostile intent as she walked towards Chieko.

"Quite the bold move to showcase your Servant's abilities in public Chieko-san. You had to have known a Master was watching, the burning in your hand would have been impossible to ignore." Nobukara spoke up as she approached the pair, her eyes focused on the Servant and her hands in her pockets, nervously grasping a pair of kunai. "It is good to see you again, regardless of the circumstances. I hope your journey here was as enlightening as mine."

---

---

"As you wish master..."

That was all that Hector had to say before he left the studio apartment. It seemed that tonight he had not need to even wait around like before for the fight to come to him. He wondered what servant he would be meeting with now. Could it be the same one as last night?

He hoped if it was then they weren't too upset about what took place. Well it would be rather humorous if they were.

Hector now stood opposing the enemy pair with Durandina in hand once more, in it's 'pilum' form.

"Well first of all, from one old man to another, if you really do intend to not get yourself involved in the fight just like you suggested. It's best to make a bit of distance. I would offer that me and your servant would move but well... I'm going to have things move a bit quicker than I would like this time around." Hector wore a modest smile as he spoke. His words bore no ill will, this was merely part of the Holy Grail War after all. Only if the master of the servant he would be fighting did indeed stick around then there wasn't really any promising he wouldn't get hurt depending on how things played out.

"Well... I guess i'll start eh?"

Readying his spear Hector took the plunge forward at the enemy servant, making sure to use all the distance that his weapon allowed him. How does this one fight I wonder? Will they be as tricky as the last?

And so his second encounter of the grail war began with him taking the initiative.

---

---

Uwaaaaaaaa~ Lucienne felt like banging her head against a wall. She had been quite a fool and now she could only wish that she could have realised that sooner.

Why on earth did I spend all that time chatting and hanging around damn it...

A snort of derision at herself escaped her. She hadn't planned well for her night of work with Caster and it had shown that. She had got some of what she wanted done but by the dusk she was left feeling like a clown.

Alright. That's it! Tonight i'm going to search this city for anything with any value in it! But first...
She placed a finger delicately on her chin.

"Caster we are heading out again. I do hope that those fellows from last night had the same idea as us." She called out to her servant.

With haste she moved out of the house once more with her companion. This time there had been some measures made just in case, even if they didn't return for tonight there shouldn't be too much to worry about.

Well except for whoever was responsible for that showed up... She angrily dug her hands into her pockets for a moment. Even if she had just been careless she would blame this on a mysterious being until she was proven otherwise.

A forced smile spread across her face. What a foul mood she was in tonight.

The young master of Bordeaux began her journey back to the location of that meeting last night. As she ground her teeth, hard enough that they might be turned to dust...

---

They're finally making their move. Stay by my side but remain hidden, Assassin. I'll have one of my drones scout the area.

The alchemist of Atlas climbed out of a manhole in a rather empty alley, scaling one of the buildings with his superior agility. Making his way to the patrician magus with haste, Isidore pressed a button on the device attached to the side of his head, causing a strange flying device hovering above Lucienne's home to fly outward, high in the sky. Through one of the multiple images displayed on the screen that was over Isidore's left eye, he would have what is essentially a bird's eye view of the entire arrondissement that the young lady was based in.

Hopping from building to building as a means of traveling faster, Isidore mused to himself the idea of mapping out the entire Paris underground, considering if using such a method to travel would be faster than what he is currently employing. It was only after he noticed the slight stinging pain on his Command Spells that the cyborg made his way down to the streets, slowing his pace down to a nice stroll...

... Until he was face-to-face with Lucienne, stopping a few yards away. It was close enough to establish dialogue, but far enough so that either party wouldn't be able to make any hasty moves to attack without the other being able to react.

"Good evening, mademoiselle," Isidore began, raising both his hands up as a sign of goodwill, "You may not know who I am, but I have a vague idea of who you might be, Master of Caster.

"I've revealed myself to you because I believe we might be able to help each other. However, I must ask that we are able to discuss this in a more discreet location... somewhere where the new friends you've made would not be able to follow us to, perhaps?"

Wynter finished preparing a backpack with food and drink and turned to Archer. "I was thinking that tonight we could scope out the bigger attractions, since most will probably have a mage or two hiding around them. I'd honestly like to befriend rather than fight, so if we can accomplish that I'd be happy. A team would make the war easier and I want to use this opportunity to learn from the others, if possible. What do you think, Archer?"

---

Sylvester stood alone in front of the assault of the enemy Servant.

Durindana was a sharp spear, sure. A weapon of great power used by the hero of the Trojan War, Hector, and then again by the Hero of France, Roland, showing that the weapon could be considered something that was “peerless”. But every weapon has the same weakness. If the weapon does not “strike” an opponent, then such a weapon was useless.

It was not even too much of an efforted movement. With his “armored hand”, he quickly slammed the blade away each time, sending the weapon off the course and deflecting the blow, similar to a certain blue spearman’s battle with a certain red archer. Unlike that time though, these Heroic Spirits seemed equally matched to some degree.

Servants were beings of great power, but neither of the two had activated a noble phantasm; the proof of their legend. A battle between two Servants was a battle between noble phantasms, and the fact neither of these Servants appeared to have used theirs was proof that they were going easy on one another.

It didn’t matter how or when Hector attacked, even attempting to shift the weapon showed no change to Sylvester’s prowess. Almost as if some sort of divination was occurring during each strike, Sylvester was able to know how and when Hector would strike his opponent and would counter back each time with a quick, collected movement of his right hand.

Not a single attack was able to puncture through Sylvester’s defense. While not a wall in its own regard, one might akin his defensive prowess against the Hero of the Trojan war akin to the walls of Troy themselves. Not in terms of the “toughness”, but of the seemingly impossible amount of “impregnability” presented by Rider at this time.

A barrage of attacks from the spearman before him, even if he was able to close the gap, would still put him at a disadvantage; it would be impossible for a man without an obvious weapon to defeat someone with a ranged weapon. But at the minimum, it appeared that Sylvester would not succumb to any of the attacks from the Lancer-class Servant. Even in a million years if this battle were to continue at the pace it was, one might be correct to assume that the stalemate would remain.

“Not bad. I can tell you are a very skilled spearman! At your age, color impressed, old man!” Sylvester said to his opponent. Of course, Sylvester was complimenting the opposing spearman, but given the fact that he had just deflected every single one of these strikes; strikes aimed for vital points each attack. Despite this assault, Rider was able to deflect, dodge, and redirect every single one of the Trojan Hero’s attacks one by one with mechanical action.

“Though I am told by my Master that giving away my name isn’t something I should be doing in this war, you are a great Hero. I can tell, Lancer. Even the legions of hell might fear your blade! But unfortunately I have been told by my Master that he wishes to obtain the Holy Grail, and that is what I shall do. So prepare yourself, Lancer!”

Gaps in attacks; lapses in judgment. Rider saw them all. And used them to his advantage. Even if the length of a spear compared to the length of his reach was an impossible gap to overcome, Heroes were beings that created a “possibility” within the realm of “impossible”; to give hope to the hopelessness.

And Rider would turn this “impossibility” into a “possibility” and put the Hero of Troy on the back ropes!

The young woman in the alleyway gave a start as Noon called out to her in spite of her precautions to keep herself hidden until she chose to reveal herself; had he been able to detect her presence so easily, or had it simply been a lucky guess that she was nearby somewhere, or maybe even just idle small talk made towards her Servant on the assumption that she would be watching through his eyes? She supposed in the end it didn't matter much; she had already decided to put herself at risk tonight by accompanying Saber and revealing herself to her allies, hiding away until the others arrived had just been one last precaution before that moment.

Cleo stepped out of her bounded field but stayed within the alleyway itself, moving forward just enough to be able to see the modern day knight while hopefully not exposing herself to the Servant positioned on the Pantheon so far away. "You're not the only one to keep me waiting Mr Triswich, and you're not the last to arrive, so I'll forgive the inconvenience."

"Stay close to me Saber. Keep an eye on the Servant you saw earlier."

Turning her head in the direction of the Pantheon, although she couldn't see it through the building forming one side of the alleyway, to try and draw Noon's attention in that direction. "There's another Servant nearby. The others haven't arrived yet but if we stay here we might draw unwanted attention; I suggest we move this somewhere else for now and find Caster and her Master later."

@Danchou@ManyThings

@SSW@ManyThings @1Charak2 @Sunglass @Cu Chulainn @Crusader Lord @King Cosmos




“It’s boring to spend the night in the same place you know.” the girl said before rolling over to the side of one of the buildings and sweeping up the wall, rolling against it for a moment before springing off with a spinning landing. “Not as rotational as you Noon, but I’m pretty good aren’t I?”

“It’s cheating with your body.”

“Excuse you, I’m doing this perfectly naturally.”

“Hmm… well, you’re good at it either way. I agree however, spending the night here isn’t the best of ideas. It just works as a meeting place due to a small amount of familiarity. If another servant is around well, there’s no sense in aggravating a new potential enemy before we solve our current engagements.”

He nodded in agreement to both of the women before gesturing with his hand down the road. “If you would care to accompany me, we shall leave and take to elsewhere. I was going to go track down the thief from yesterday as well. Perhaps we should move in their direction while we discuss things further? You are free to help, or simply watch or part before the confrontation with the thief. This is a somewhat personal matter as much as it’s a task to fulfill for the sake of the war.”

Letting out a quiet cough to try and mask his abashed feelings at the fact that he had to track down a thief at all.. He stood there in silence for a few moments before taking out his blade with a sigh. “It’s a simple way of tracking them down, but connections are something any magus can work with. Even with servants they can’t erase such links so easily. Tracking them down is certainly possible even if they were an Assassin.. Or maybe even a Caster?”

With a confident smile the knight nodded over to Ywain before setting down the road towards his chosen foe.

“Wonder why they stole that of all things anyway.”

To that question Noon could only shrug.

Wynter finished preparing a backpack with food and drink and turned to Archer. "I was thinking that tonight we could scope out the bigger attractions, since most will probably have a mage or two hiding around them. I'd honestly like to befriend rather than fight, so if we can accomplish that I'd be happy. A team would make the war easier and I want to use this opportunity to learn from the others, if possible. What do you think, Archer?"

"Mmhm, pals, accomplices. Both are nice, but you gotta have a goal with them. Having "friends" sometimes muddles things up. They want to take from you, and you're suppose to take from'em also but sometimes they don't got that much to take to begin with. It isn't like we can offer a big heist to work together with either. There's only one grail, right? Not many people, even heroes are gonna share that. Or maybe it's because they're heroes that they won't share that? If you want friends however... carry a big gun and a bigger smile. Why don't we sniff around and see if we can find an area with a master or a servant? If they're rotten I'll shoot'em down, if they're nice, then it's up to you."

He let out a long drawn out hmm as he considered their destinations. "How about that big tower, or that Museum then? Otherwise I guess it wouldn't be bad to see the water."

So, that's how it would be, then? Ywain remained beside his Master but didn't seem to move a muscle to acknowledge Tristan's presence. Did he perhaps think that the Archer hadn't noticed them? Or did he think that Tristan wouldn't fire despite the events from the previous night making it sure that there could be no comradeship between them in this war?

"Certainly, the idea of killing a friend who once fought under the same banner terrifies me so much that I can barely move my fingers. Thankfully, there's a way out of it in this instance," Tristan thought. Yes. There was one way. And, thankfully, it was one that the red-haired Archer didn't have to angst over thanks to the fact that it was also his obligation as a knight to make sure to deal retribution to any who dared harm Yazhu, even if it was in an honorable battle.

"Let us see, then, how good you are for real, my friend. Let this requiem be my gift for your valiant Master, even though he shall never hear it," Tristan said as he plucked one of Failnaught's strings with a mere graze of his finger. And then, another, and another, and another still. Soon enough a rapid and melancholic melody would fill the air around him. Even though it was too far away for most, if not all, of the group reunited at the alleyway to hear the song, they would be able to notice the outcome of it in a mere fraction of a second.

One, two, three, ten, no-- twelve "shots" would make their way to Noon with a speed that was so great that it felt more like a godly wind than an arrow fired by the hands of a man that once walked this earth. Not only was their speed and rate of fire astounding, but they all came from angles any normal arrow would be unable to come from. Coupled with their inherently near invisibility, and -- more importantly -- the fact that each of them targeted one of Noon's vital areas, this would make for a true test of Ywain's capacities as well as help Tristan calibrate his own abilities even further and decide whether or not he would need to use the full extent of his skills -- or even invoke Failnaught's true name -- against anyone in this war.

---

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@ManyThings@Danchou@King Cosmos@SSW

The whole morning, although while it was nothing but a bunch of dialogue between the Master that allowed her to stay here, the maid, and the cute trap, it was still important to remember what those words resounded in her head were.

It took her time to realize it, but she was chosen to be a Master of this Holy Grail War. She had heard about the Heaven's Feel Ritual from her late father as he had sent a few his familiars to spy on the Einzberns but to think someone else would copy the formula right here in France.

Of course, he was never invited and out of pure coincidence Ryte just happened to be in France to escape from her captors.

She remembered something about the Grail granting the Master status to those with a strong resolve for their wishes. Did the Grail perhaps learn of her wish to live longer? Her first Servant, the Caster: Moses, just died in hellfire all because he gloated. Of course the blame also lies with her for just carelessly using a Command Spell, which was also a valuable resource in boosting or restraining your Servant.

She is stuck with two and this new information crammed into her head? She will treat with the utmost care.

Ryte was busy getting dressed in her old clothes, washed and dried in the morning of course. She figured it was about time to expand new horizons. A new image meant a new her and the wish that waits ahead will not be given to her in a silver platter- No.

This dying girl has to earn it, she has to be careful not to lose another Servant or else she'll be handicapped for the rest of the War.

"Hm? Yeah, I don't mind having temporary allies. However... if the number of contenders dwindle..." The shy girl that was once the fearful Ryte seems to have slowly calmed down, now covering up both hands with black lace gloves. Sure it'll make anyone suspicious but it's better than just revealing her "red tattoos" to the public and getting found out. She was lucky that she was found by such a merciful Master and she'll have to repay her someday.

"...you should be ready to kill that Saber." She said right back in Honda's head wherever he was in spirit form with serious conviction like a switch just flipped in her head. Sure she was still nervous but it pays to act stonehearted and endure what's coming. No time to act like the youngest sister of three anymore. Perhaps even a girl like her has grudges.

The only survivor of a family. A wish just up ahead, blocked by several hard obstacles.

And her one wish is to transcend this decay and live like a normal human being. No one was going to stop her from reaching the "only cure".

@ItMeGritty

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"Hah. Neat trick, doesn't scare me. I could always use a Jester. At least that's what the Old Western Kingdoms call fools here? Although I believe there were people that don't mind." SO says the great Demon King in an unusual attire. She's got to blend in somehow right? Make the people believe that they really are twin sisters from the Far East, although hers was too casual... too relaxed, like she wouldn't mind if someone attacked her here and now and she'd still be wearing whatever she was wearing.



"But if she is an acquaintance you know, a friend you already met before you summoned me into this War. I suppose her Servant isn't too bad either no? In fact, I like a little performance from a few warriors every now and then, it's not my right to say since all of us Servants are dead to begin with."

Nobunaga had to keep quiet so as to not give off the wrong idea unless asked to introduce herself to the other Master. Might as well get a name out of the other Servant too. Informational extortion is a good way to do things but since it's a risk with all these French people still dispersing, she'd rather wait until they were really alone to do... drastic measures of interrogation if they're stubborn in the Big Fool of Owari's eyes.

@floodtalon @Reflection @GreenGoat

"I understand your need to avenge your comrade. However, I must recommend that we try diplomacy first. The Berserker I encountered is extremely powerful. We cannot possibly take them on ourselves. She's already got the taste for blood..."

Honda materializes next to Ryte in his casual wear.

"But if Saber's head is what you desire then I will deliver it to you. I was just thinking that if he is as powerful as you say it would be a net benefit for all involved in the war if we...directed him towards what I consider a more pressing matter."

"So, what are our plans for tonight?"

---

Jackson decided to retreat some feet back into the shadow of the buildings across from the Cite. He set up another bounded field of concealment, then sent his eagle off to survey the Latin district. He then made sure his rifle was loaded.

"We'll observe from here for now. Hopefully get the drop on the Master when she comes back out. I suggest you send some familiars to scout out one of the neighbouring districts. Perhaps the Business or Residential Districts."

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@Seirei No Hai@King Cosmos

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Mirai’s smile only broadened as she raised her tea to her well-painted lips, abating her joy to take a tiny dainty sip as not to ruin them. “Fortunate for you that it was me who came across you and not someone else. Where you may be dead otherwise I have already decided to ease your difficulties and make better use of your clearly good fortune. Speaking honestly, you have a strong servant, very likely the strongest in the entire war in fact, a blessing that could pass you by without doing you any good if you kept going as you were.”

She took another sip before setting the tea down, and reaching beneath the little table to produce a scroll. “Wandering around in the open with a servant whose only means of defending you is to place its body between harm and yours is however a folly...” She unfurled the scroll across the table and held it open as she spoke, revealing something that looked not-quite like a map of paris,. a geomantic chart perhaps? That would certainly be in keeping with what was known about the Kurojishi family. “...and you’ve clearly not embraced the idea of war from the shadows given the way you so brazenly attacked your prey last night while everyone watched. The Holy Grail War is a battle of information first and foremost, and this is something that me and Caster are more than proficient in.” She gave the fox in her lap a little extra attention behind the ears, praising his work a little extra beyond her words.

An as of yet unseen pair of arms un-hid itself to pick her tea cup up again while the last of the six to be accounted for pointed to a spot on the map. “...But I had enough faith in your making the right choice that I spent the day planning around our assisting you and we’ve already discerned a good use of your strengths. You’ll send Berserker here, and from the safety of our workshop taste your first victory of many.”

She paused for a moment, as if she heard something displeasing, and looked down into her lap. “...And in the meantime, we’ll secure our defenses here more thoroughly against interlopers. Caster there is a guest to be taken care of, please go and greet them while I ready myself to entertain.” She gestured to shoo him away, like the beloved lap pet he was.

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