"I believe Miss Hifumi would be correct. I do not understand why you are all in such a hurry but so be it." commented Director Orson rather bluntly as he stood up Orson spoke up once more loudly this time. "Very well then I believe that following me would be prudent, follow me." Orson said as he stood up, and grabbed a bag of items. He then ushered everyone out of the door. "We will now move onto the next step. I have made arrangements to conduct the summoning rituals needed here. It will be done in the main hall. Be careful of what you have selected as your catalyst if it is not strong enough this bag of mine has some for you to use. I will warn you outside of those already assembled no one but the headmaster, and the needed parties have been notified. If this leaks and the true names of any of the individual servants here are revealed prematurely then you know where the leaks came from. Welcome to the Great Grail War...or perhaps that is a bit more premature?." Director Orson said to the group plainly as he led the way out of the room, and down the corridors of the main hall of the Clocktower. The time traveling through the halls was quick and as they got closer to the destination the sound of music played on a piano sounded through the hall.



Orson's face inadvertently smiled as Leon looked at the man he wondered if Orson was really a close friend to whoever was playing that music. He grabbed at his own satchel and considered what life would now be ahead of him fully aware that it was now too far gone to turn back. Leon looked forward not back as he followed Orson. He hoped down in his gut that the despair he felt at becoming a master would be overcome by his desire to be an influential factor in humanity's future. More over than that he hoped that he didn't get berserker...he couldn't imagine such a fate ahead of him if he did. Unable to talk with his servant he'd be forced into a spot where he, as a master, would need to fully embrace the role unlike any other.

Orson took a quick step across from a hallway towards a dead end with only one door, and opened it to enter a hall where the piano music was resonating much louder. It changed in tune every now, and then but it was still peaceful, and hopeful. As Orson entered the music kept playing seemingly unaware of his presense in the piano seat sat a young lady with long brown hair wearing a uniform of a student. As Orson walked up to the piano he tapped on it, and the music stopped. The young lady turned to Orson and blushed embarrassed and chuckled awkwardly. "Hello is everything prepared here my student?" asked Orson with a calm voice as the young lady smiled at him and nodded. She spoke clearly, and with elegance "Of course Director! Again thank you for letting me take the job. I told you...I won't let you down!" She said getting up after closing a spread sheet of piano notes. Orson pointed at the group assembled. "OH hey! Sorry I didn't notice you there I...I suppose you're my allies then? Hello allow me to introduce myself. Apprentice Mage! Junior Year Student! I am Monica Renwald! Though I am not much to look at I promise you that you can count on me to do the just thing to the end! I am a fellow member of the Black Faction as a back up master!" Monica said as she bowed her head and body respectfully towards the group.

"I personally vouch for this one's excellence she's a bit of an idol in this school. And a personal student of my own. Let her petite appearance fool you not she is as a capable mage as anyone here if not more so. Now then...are you all ready? As I said I have a spare catalyst ready for anyone without one. However I am under the impression that each of you brought one no?" Orson said as he pointed towards the center of the massive hall where all the furniture had been either removed, or pushed aside for the dozen or so magical circles made with silver dust lined around the room. "Yes sir I have one!" Leon said as he pulled up his satchel and pulled out a the ash filled jar.. "This the catalyst my grand father handed to me before I left America. It belonged to some sort of hero of great worth somewhere in Central Europe." Leon said as Anderson chuckled. "Yes yes get a move on boy you all have a job to do don't you?" Anderson stated calmly with a smile on his face.

However before everyone could go much further a whistle came from the back of the hall. A man in a luxurious black suit came walking over. He had his hair combed over with a gleam to it. His pearly white teeth glimmered brightly, and his handsome complexion was a sight to behold. The man looked like something out of an old 30's film, and he held himself rather well not hunched over, and when he spoke it was clear, and loud. "Well now sir I do say it is rather rude of you not to introduce me as well. All the same I have no issues if you do so now." the man said as he waltzed over and stood in front of the crew. "Oh yes...I wasn't sure if you had decided to come. Everyone this is Austin R. King. He is a fourth generation mage from Las Vegas. His family runs casinos among normal folks, and uses that wealth to sponsor both us, and the Atlas institution. His family is generous, and has allowed many mages to continue in their research where they may have not done so before. He specializes in a strange form of magic. Unorthodox as it is it is very potent. Alteration magic that effects chance. In other words he's extremely 'lucky'. He will be replacing any master who chooses to leave, or dies in the up coming conflict...assuming the servant agrees to the pact if its the latter." commented Orson as he stared with unease at King who kept his dazzling smile on display, he nodded his head, and let out a chuckle. "Well I do declare sir that in order to win you have to stack the deck...and weight the dice. No one ever won a penny without making sure the odds were forever in their favor. I look forward to working with you all. Even you Reverend." he said with a nod at Anderson who sighed, "Your hedonistic attitude irks me but we have much greater problems at hand than my belief in your foul magic." Anderson stated flatly.

"Alright then lads let's get to steppin' alright? We got a summoning to do. Everyone who needs to summon take your place at a circle." Anderson quickly rebounded giving a declaration that he was ready for the summoning sequence. Pulling out of a handful of black keys from his vest. He made it clear very quickly that he'd deal with any rogue servants. Leon sighed and moved forward. He was nervous, and not sure what would come of this. As they stepped into their own respective summoning circles Leon pulled out his shard and placed it in the middle of the circle. He moved some distance away he had done his homework. Leon breathed out easily, and calmly. He held his head high as he wondered just exactly what the world intended for him after this but as he remembered he had committed to this himself. Going back would be folly, and insulting. Especially with King being right there to take his place. He started speaking loudly, and full of passion in his belly Leon shouted:

Let silver and steel be the essence.
Let stone, and the archduke of contracts be the foundation.
Let black be the color I hold the standard for.
Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall.
Let the four cardinal gates close.
Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom of heaven itself rotate."
"Let it be filled. Again. Again. Again. Again.
Let it be filled fivefold for every turn, simply breaking asunder with every filling.
Let it be declared now;
your flesh shall serve under me, and my fate shall be with your sword.
Answer, if you would submit to this will and this truth."

Leon's words didn't falter as he spoke with a firm but calm chant after settling himself down half way through and the room shook as the incantations were responded to by the summoning ritual. The winds shook the area, and the od around the room became unstable as it began to shutter with the incantations. As the winds blew back in response to the ritual Leon was pressed onto his backfoot, but he gave no quarter to the force he stood strong against it. Then it calmed as the energy that had generated from the mass summons had finished there was someone kneeling on the ground where there was once no one.

Before him appeared a woman it looked like? But her hair shimmered and contained many colors most predominately purple and white, and her finery was certainly not normal for it too seemed to carry a certain weight to it. It felt like she herself was something not natural to this world as Leon had known it. In her hand Leon saw a massive lance, and as she looked up Leon saw her eyes were filled with...something Leon could not figure out? Sadness? Or was it happiness? Some mixture of both? Who had he summoned?

She radiated with a certain power she was strong that much he was certain on. She held her lance gingerly as she looked towards Leon who held his ground despite her presence being rather unnatural to even him.

"Tell me sir would you be my master?" asked the woman in front of Leon with an earnest smile. Leon wasn't able to speak for a moment. But he quickly recomposed himself. "Yes...yes that would be me. I...I am your master." Leon stuttered out in shock as he looked onto his hand where a strange red set of three command seals had taken their place on his hand. "I understand then the pact is complete. I will do my best for you young man. Let us fight for the Black Faction with all our might." she said calmly as if she was trying to come off as professional as she could but some sort of hint of unease was in her voice. But Leon nodded his head respectfully she responded with another statement. "Master forgive me in advance if I appear aloof...I'm...I have a curse on me, I do not wish to hurt you with it so it would be for the best that you keep your distance from me emotionally." Lancer said which made Leon wonder...just who was this woman exactly? Beautiful beyond compare yet Leon felt in his veins that something was off about her. Still this was who he had summoned one way, or another he'd make do with who he had.

Summoning Hall, Clock Tower

---

"A magus personally making their way into the trap-riddled woods would be risky, but it may be necessary to come out on top if the enemy has really taken such base arts to another level. I'd recommend you have me around to tend to your wounds and afflictions if you decide to venture into the thick of it." Jack pondered strategies with the group, minus the haughty man who had left as hastily as he had come.

Naturally, he joined them as they travelled to the designated area for summoning, where yet another pair of new faces were introduced. Renwald and King weren't Masters, apparently, but Jack nonetheless greeted them with enthusiasm. Comparing their attitudes with some of the others, he considered that the backup team might be more amicable than the chosen Masters, not that he would intentionally let anyone die.

In any case, there was still something he had to do before he was truly settled into the team.

The Meatmaster approached one of the silver circles, knelt down, and popped open his case. There were a few things inside, but what he produced were incredibly worn and tattered pieces of leather - past the point of being recognizable as the reins they once made up. Many legendary horses have been named through history, but in this world of subcategory Grail Wars the likes of Bucephalus or Grani had long since had all associated relics snapped up by ambitious houses. Only a horse whose name was lost to time was accessible to someone like Jack, with few connections but a high willingness to do the needed detective work and excavate the decomposing catalyst from its tomb.

He rose to his feet, kicked the case a few meters away to avoid interference from his other possessions, lay the reins down before the summoning circle, and began to chant. He let his magical energy spring forth, and the Director's metallic dust made a fine conduit for it and began to exude light and steam.

Words poured forth just as readily as mana. Jack called out with the full force of his will for a hero to bond with himself.

"...If the spirit is willing, the flesh is manageable! Approach, hero! Answer this call if the fight still burns within you!"

While most had begun to bicker, or perhaps already show their distaste with the current proceedings, Vladimir had zoned it all out. If not for the grip of his assistant on his shoulder, he might have left the room altogether. His disgust with other human beings was clear on his face, especially as the defenses were explained to them. A defense system that would require him working with others directly? He was an alchemist, not a man who cared about illusions! He had dabbled in them, but it was mostly on the regular folk when he had been acting in steed of his ancestor.

Adjusting his coat, he stood, and walked with the others. If he was in the mood for curses he might have had a few in mind, but he didn't act on them. After all, he needed his karma high if he planned to ever finish his research. The ring in his hand flittered between fingers, and a hiss on his lips as he saw the summoning circle in question. It was certainly of a quality required, and no doubt adjusted in advance for several mages to use it together when summoning their servants. No doubt they would deny him the chance to summon in a private room, but he doubted the subject of his servant's name would ever need to arise. That was if his catalyst was any use.

He took a scarf from around his neck, and folded it tightly together. Placing it on the ground first, he put his catalyst on top. So that it wouldn't be dirtied by the ground. Just in case he needed to use it later or something. He turned to his assistant, and nodded at her. She nodded back, and stepped further from the circle. If desired, he could very well have used his blood, or perhaps his associate as a catalyst to summon his ancestor. But despite his power... He wasn't sure it was wise to summon a demon to war like that. And his heart wouldn't take the dishonor if they were to die. No, best to summon another hero.

"Let silver and steel be the essence. Let stone, and the archduke of contracts be the foundation..." And so began the ritual. His servant slowly forming in the air before him. Praying... That it would be somebody with an answer to his problem.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________


She was no rider. But she came to conquer, and that meant her horse did too. The clatter of hooves no doubt drew attention, as upon a white stallion... SABER APPEARED! Dressed in the armor of war, a sword held aloft in such a way that she was stabbing the chandelier. Whoever Kaybernett had just summoned was... Wild at the very least. The clippity clop of hooves filled the air, as the stallion began to walk around the room, carrying its rider upon its back.
"My goodness, the world has certainly changed!" She declared as a grin like the Cheshire cat crept over her lips. "This is good. Very good. If I bring him glory here, than for sure he will be without hesitation in the praise!" She swooned, as if ignoring all the people around her. "Oh, I know just what he'll say. He'll stand before an audience, brush his hair to the side and declare in no short words 'this is truly my most trusted of God's helpers! Her pure maiden heart has slain the evils of another time, and has carried back to me the Holy GRAIL!" Her blade swung through the air, and decapitated a nearby statue with ease.
Only as it fell to the ground and shattered did her sense of space come back.

"Oh, sorry there! Are you all okay? I hope I didn't startle any of you. Unless you're all heathens who don't believe in the love of god. Then I'd have to kill each and every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ. Though I guess the pope wouldn't approve... He never did approve of my more liberal approach to worship. That's why I stopped answering his letters."

Paula watched as Leon, Vladimir and Kaybernett performed their summons. She scoffed at the sappy, melodramatic speech Leon's spear lady gave.

"Oh please. You've known the guy for two seconds and already your going on about how emotionally unavailable you are. $50 that you guys bone down before the war is over."

Kaybernett's servant emerged next. It arrived on a majestic white horse, she spouted some things to herself then decapitated a statue before addressing the group like she was a mormon going door to door.

"Now that's more like it, someone with personality. I love her and want to braid her hair."

Paula quickly pushed aside her other colleagues that had crowded in the doorway, likely bowling over King and Renwald who she didn't think much of, and selected a central summoning circle.

"Tsk tsk, this won't do at all." Disapprovingly, Paula waved her hand an invoked elemental magics. A spell from the Middle East that was normally used to survive buffeting from desert sandstorms was called up to manipulate the silver dust that made up her chosen circle and carelessly cast it aside, likely ruining a few of the other summoning circles. She turned and gave Renwald a coy smile.

"Oopsie. My hand slipped."Satisfied she turned back, producing some chaulk from her pocket. She had spent days designing and visualising her perfect summoning circle in her mind. She utilised muggle computing technology-yes, muggle computing technologyto randomly generate chaos game patterns around carefully selected vertexes. This image she held perfectly in her mind, all the while reducing the the chaulk in her hands into fine granules. Those granules leapt out of her hands and snaked their way across the floor, drawing up a complex fractal pattern within a circle. Triangles within triangles within triangles. The perimeter of the circle was actually made from the points of several hundred chaotically generated triangles being so close together they formed a perfect circle. Looking at any point in the circle one would find miniature versions of the summoning circle, and inside those they would find even smaller versions of the summoning circle ad infinitum until the chaulk could not "render" the details.

Once finished she dusted her hands and produced an object wrapped in brown cloth. She unwounded the cloth revealing an old, yet seemingly mundane wooden plank.

"Behold, a plank from the Argo. The divine hip that carried the Argonauts on all of their adventures. Just as this ship spearheaded many victories so to the Servant I will summon with this ensure we win."

She gingerly set it down, took a few deep breaths and stuck her hand out...then put her hand back down.

"Considering it is likely that many planks on the Argo were replaced over the course of it's voyage, we can assume that at some point there was enough planks to make a number of 'Argos' at least greater than one. There's a possibility that multiple 'Argos' exist or have existed. Reminds me of Theseus's Ship Paradox. I guess all these servants are kind of their own Theseus's ship. They aren't really who they are supposed to be, but they definitely possess some of the parts. Anyways...

She brought her hand up again.

Let limestone and gypsum be the essence.
Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation.
Let black be the colour of my standard.
Let rise against
Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall.
Let the four cardinal gates close.
Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom of heaven itself rotate.
Let it be filled. Again. Again. Again. Again.
Let it be filled fivefold for every turn, simply breaking asunder with every filling.
Let it be declared now;
the sharpness of your sight shall be joined with the sharpness of my mind.
Come forth, heroine, be the arrow that points to our victory!

Hifumi remained silent on the way to the main hall. In her mind, the only possibly worst place to perform such a ritual if they wanted to secure secrecy would be the middle of the street, but pointing the discrepancies in Orson's speech and actions could only entertain her for so long.

As soon as they arrived, she spared the time to acknowledge and return Monica's greeting but didn't even bat an eyelash towards the buffoon that followed. She couldn't understand what was happening or what the Director and the idiot-in-a-magus-cloth spoke of even if she cared for it. Instead of that, she focused on a much more important task, wipe away the silver dust and redo the summoning circle in a manner that fit her mystical foundation.

Hifumi knelt on floor in a manner not much different from the foulmouthed mathematician mage that accompanied them, and began to rewrite the summoning circle with her ink and brush. While she did so, she already proceeded with the incantation necessary to do the summoning, though it came not in the form of words, but rather verses in a particularly archaic variation of her native language that was nearly impossible to comprehend even for native modern Japanese speakers.

Her lyrics were nothing short of a short poem of heroism as her hands danced across the floor skillfully. Once she was done, she finished by placing her catalyst at the center of the rebuilt circle, shining golden bridle, no wonder belonging to a marvelous steed.

And so, Hifumi poured magical energy into the lifeless inscription and thus, a legend that transcended time and space was about to be reborn.

Equally, the circle rebuilt by Paula shone and burst to life as a gracious figure coming from the Golden Age of Mankind, the pillar of Western Civilization, Greece during the height of the Age of Gods, took form in its center.

Considering Paula's interest for mathematics, it was natural that the Argonaut who answered her summons wielded a bow. After all, marksmanship is nothing but the purest and oldest form of math applied to warfare and daily life. Even if it's done by instinct, the calculations are still there.

However, this Archer probably wasn't what her Master expected, at least in terms of appearance. Instead of a princess of incomparable beauty, Archer was someone that looked more animal than human. Her swaying tail and ears, as well as her fierce eyes and golden hair that looked like a magnificent mane, turning slowly to the same hue of green as her clothes, all of them gave the impression of beast instead of a person.

Nevertheless, when she turned around and faced her newly christened Master, what came out of her throat weren't the roars of a wild animal, but rather a composed and elegant voice (speaking in an outdated dialect, probably by choice) befitting her Archer's true identity. "I am the Archer Class Servant who answered the call of the Holy Grail. I ask of thee, Master, is thy fight one to protect the future of this world's children?" she said, in a very unusual variation of the words meant as an acknowledgement of the contract on the Servant's side.

As Thomas watched the abrupt end to the meeting, his own arrival going more or less unnoticed by those gathered, he couldn’t help but note that the dynamics that were at play in this group were… interesting, to say the least. A motlier assortment of mages could hardly be imagined, which begged the question of why the director had chosen to recruit this particular group to combat the Grey’s as opposed to simply forming the Black Faction using like-minded and trustworthy magus from within the Clocktower.

Perhaps Orson was the type to value individual strength over team cohesion, and though their particular talents were worth the potential issues that might come from infighting or disagreements between them. Or maybe he had other motives in mind. The presence of back-up Masters at this summoning, not to mention the fact Orson apparently had at least one catalyst on stand-by, did nothing to assuage Thomas’ suspicions; they only proved that the Director would be more than capable of replacing them if need be.

Thomas nodded in greeting to both the young student and the American casino owner as they were introduced, reaching up to adjust his glasses as he examined both of them in turn. Back-up Masters, prepared in case one of them should have failed to arrive, refused the invitation or should one of them, per chance, expire before this war was over?

How interesting.

Walking over to one of the pre-prepared summoning circles Thomas examined the ritual diagram laid out before him; not how he would have drawn it, not the medium he would have used, but unlike the mathematician of the artist he was not overly concerned with such details. “It’ll suffice.”

Placing his heavy carrying case on the ground, laying it flat, the Magus undid the clasps and opened the lid. The inside was lined with red fabric, most of the interior filled in so that the object inside wouldn’t jostle as he carried it, not that he would be able to damage the thing in any way if it did. Reaching inside the case Thomas pulled out a heavy oaken club, clearly quite old, six feet in length, banded with iron and bearing the scars of battle; notches and grooves lined its length, where it had clashed with swords and axes and other weapons and won, dark stains covering most of it where blood had soaked the weapon and not been wiped clean afterwards, the hue of the wood changing over time.

“Twelve hundred years old and still on one piece... whether or not this is the genuine article remains to be seen. If it is, then I’ll have Zealand’s mightiest King on my side.”

The club was placed in the centre of the circle, or as much in the centre as it could be when it was nearly wider than the diagram itself. Stepping back, Thomas cleared his throat and began to intone the words of the summoning ritual.

Let silver and fury be the essence.
Let stone, and the archduke of contracts be the foundation.
Let black be the colour I hold the standard for.
Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall.
Let the four cardinal gates close.
Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom of heaven itself rotate.
Let it be filled. Again. Again. Again. Again.
Let it be filled fivefold for every turn, simply breaking asunder with every filling.
Let it be declared now;
Your flesh shall serve under me, and my fate shall be with your might.
Answer, if you would submit to this will and this truth.

Wind howled within the confined space of the hall, centred around the glowing lines of Thomas’ summoning circle so as not to disturb the others despite its intensity; only Thomas’s clothes were whipped up, only he felt their chill as it ran down his spine. It was an unusually violent reaction, perhaps due to the unusually violent nature of the Servant being summoned.

A boom of thunder tore the air apart as the Servant appeared. There was no fanfare, no sparkling lights or glorious entrance; just what was once an empty space finding itself suddenly occupied by a bloody-minded Viking as a sound like the world exploding rang out. The mana which had lit the circle slowly faded out, seeing to take some of the light out of the room with it, at least in the vicinity of the summoning, the red marks on Thomas’s hand and the glint of barely restrained fury in the Servant’s eyes glowing all the brighter for it.

The new arrival stood tall, taller than Thomas, and imposing; he wore nothing but a fur pelt around his waist and a cloak fashioned from the plundered fur of a bear, the rest of his body bare to expose a muscular form untouched by blade or spear or arrow. Not a single scar could be seen. Berserker, for with that appearance he could be nothing else, wielded a solid oaken club in each clenched fist, the weapons held with white-knuckle intensity as if the warrior was already eager to bludgeon something. The weapons were nearly identical to the one still lying at the Servant’s feet.

“I am your Master.”

From the moment he had been summoned Berserker’s eyes had been locked on Thomas’ own; the Servant gave no impression of understanding the sentence that had been spoken, there was nothing within his eyes to suggest comprehension, acceptance or rejection of the declaration. Only rage.

Summoning Hall, Clock Tower

---

Jack didn't flinch nor retreat when his Summon emerged and began monologuing and smashing things. After all, he was the type who was great at pinpointing the difference between violence, and violence directed at him. He did raise his hands in surrender, since she had mentioned slaughtering them all.

"Heathens? I'm sure you know we're all magi, so take that however you want. There was a wizard or two among the peers, though, right?"

He had known a Paladin was going to be fairly devout, but he was hoping he could make it work. "Rider? Or Saber? Welcome back to the world. I'm Jack Kaybernett, who summoned you, and the other heroes you'll be joining are materializing around us as we speak. Best to get along with them, yeah?"

As he spoke and extended a hand towards the mounted lady, a sudden burst from the Russian Count's circle grabbed his attention. Something had just happened over there.

"What in the..?"

---

---

It lay dormant. Golden and dazzling as the Count of Russia placed it on his scarf.

This was the way it had been for centuries, lounging in one treasure hoard or another, its curse long since decayed.

Until the moment the magus unleashed his chant. Then, in the midst of the steam and light gushing from the circle, it felt its owner's presence again. Its status was now that of a Noble Phantasm. Its purpose was renewed.

Perhaps it was a joyful thing to be brought out of disuse, but at that moment, the ring's function was not to feel joy. It was not in its rightful master's grasp.

And so it raged.

A hateful cocktail of fire and darkness emerged. The scarf was quickly annihilated like the nothing it was, and the floor wasn't faring much better. Small fissures made their way across the ground, and the force of palpable anger and burning wind was sufficient to knock a man like Vladimir off his feet. All this was only in the first second, and the curse was quickly blossoming into something even those at other circles would be troubled by.

Whatever form the Russian had conjured was completely obscured by the overbearing darkness. Yet, amid the swirling cinders and bubbling of the silver powder, a sigh was audible. There was the sound of a single step on the crumbling floor, seemingly louder than all the violent chaos around it.

With that, it all stopped.

Myriad runes shone for a momen on the golden band. The moment the figure in the ruined circle had scooped it up, the rage of the ring had subsided completely.

---

Summoning Hall, Clock Tower

---

It was a young boy with a round face and strawberry blond hair, but his cold, greedy, experienced eyes betrayed something of his true nature.

"Be more careful with my things."

His voice was not that of an adult, but his inflections and manner of speaking were beyond those of a child. Whatever he was, he twirled the ring between his fingers for a moment, revealing characters in some primal language which shimmered across its uniformly golden surface for a moment as he slipped it on.

"I am Caster, and you..." He thought for a moment, seeming annoyed as he examined the older man, "You have command seals, and magical energy. Fine, you can be my Master."

The offer of a contract was extended towards Vladimir. When he reached out to take it, he would find it felt different than he might have expected. What he had summoned was rather distant from the 'heroes' one normally saw in such wars. Caster's status read as being similar to an elemental. Along the same vein, he gazed over towards the other Servants, surmising each one's nature as best he could with a glance. Lancer held the shrewd gaze particularly long. While he couldn't identify her true name just like that, a Valkyrie was something he couldn't miss, that gave him great confidence for the faction. It was leering at maidens like her that had gotten him into his current predicament, but given his nature he held nothing but ice-cold calculations of victory in the face of such beauty.

Caster moved from the summoning circle and leaned towards Vladimir. "Let's take these people with us and get to work. I want that cup."

@ItMeGritty
"I assure you Miss I do not intend to lay with my master. Even the thought of it is rather off putting. Though he is dead my beloved is still alive in my heart. I shall be the Lancer for the Black Faction moving forward." Lancer said nodding respectfully in the direction of of Paula, and her servant. She spoke calmly, and sincerely. But from the look on her face the concept of loving Leon frightened her slightly. Leon wanted to make his own comeback but he blushed hard at the statement before calming himself down when Bryn told her the truth of the matter. "Y-yes like she said I didn't even think about that possibility. I am her master, not her loved one. Besides its improper for a master to try such a thing with their servant. This is a war not the bachelor!" Leon said aloud to Paula. He looked over to Lancer, and considered for a moment her true name. "Is something a matter?" Brynhildr questioned her master who looked her in the eyes, and asked her if she was a human she didn't seem like one. Leon watched as she shook her head honestly. "That question is far more difficult than you know. But no essentially I am, or rather was no mere human."

@Reflection

"A Saber? And one of the Holy Church? It seems that you've struck gold indeed Master of Saber. But Miss Saber I must suggest you control yourself. Surely you know by the nature of your summoning that these people are as knight brothers, and sister to you. God doesn't look kindly on the murder of the innocent just as he looks down on killing one's family. Or did you not read the story of Abel, and Cain? Still it is nice to meet your acquaintance as a member of the church, and fervent believer of the holy spirit. Though I do suggest you do not start conflict with some of the others here. Clearly they are from a time less blessed by the savior." Anderson said as he approached Saber at a respectful distance. A large grin on his face as he adjusted his glasses. He motioned to Lancer, and the recently summoned Caster who were clearly Pagan just by the garb, and way they carried themselves.

==

Lancer turned to Berserker's master, and looked him over gripping her large lance before telling him, "I don't know all the details but one of my skills allow me to register what certain people were like in their life. This one's life was full of combat, and it was not an easy one. Take great care in handling berserker good master." She told them quickly before Director Orson whistled promptly. "Now then hear this. All masters are to take this time to fully acquaint themselves with their servants. You may work together how things will work in the Black Faction as you choose. If you wish to travel to Poland separately so be it. You know where you will go once there. However for those who seek aid then by all means I have already made preparations for all of you to travel by private plane to Poland. It will be a quick trip. We will assist in supplying mana to the servants on the trip by any means possible. The plane will be at Luton Airport. You will have by the end of the day to get whatever you need before leaving there. I may suggest picking up clothing for your servants in case they wish to travel among the common folk of Poland. You are all dismissed." Director Orson said before sitting down in a chair at the end of the hall just in case. Monika, and Mr. King merely looked on as spectators while Anderson smugly grinned surveying the servants in case of any misconduct such as in fighting occured.

Servant and Master both turned their heads towards Lancer as she spoke. Thomas regarded her curiously, one eyebrow raised and a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, appearing more amused than concerned with the former Valkyrie’s warning. “Oh I’m well aware of his history my dear, I made sure to do my research before today. A life of combat, a life of war, a life of *winning* those wars; a bloody life with a bloody end; challenging, I think, but not difficult, not for one like him. He will be… quite useful in the battles to come.”

The end of Thomas’ sentence trailed off as he turned to regard his Servant, noticing the way in which the old king looked at Lancer for the first time. The Berserker’s face was unchanged; his expression carved from granite, rough and unyielding, yet his eyes had changed and now held the most curious mix of emotions. The fury had not disappeared entirely, but it had abated, lowering from a boil to a simmer that lay underneath everything else; recognition, at least a hint of it, alongside a little bit of what Thomas could only describe as awe, or perhaps veneration. Closer to respect than admiration.

How very curious.

“I appreciate your input miss Lancer, but don’t waste your concern on an old man like me. Attend to your Master; he looks a little red in the face.”

@vancexentan

As Hifumi spoke the incantation a brilliant golden light show emerged from her hand drawn circle. It was wasn't as bright or as bombastic as the others. Nonetheless there was a flash of golden light and what stood in the middle of the circle, now holding the brilliant golden bridle, was an otherwise unassuming young man in a black cloak. His pinkish hair was slicked back and he wore grey clay mask with a black tendril pattern going down it's left side. The figure simply stood quite for a moment, scanning the room and observing all the other masters and servants summoned so far. Finally his gaze rested on the Japanese girl in front of him. The girl who had gained possession of his golden bridle, who had used a near dead language from her island nation in the Far East. He was underwhelmed by his Master. She seemed inexperienced compared to the other mages present. Finally he cleared his throat and spoke.

"Speak my name, and you shall be worthy of my Master."

The servant was not about to accept the girl in front of him as his master just yet. He had to test her.

---

Paula let out an excited squee as the adorable cat girl materialised in front of her.

"Oh you're perfect! Colleagues, our victory is assured. I just summoned one of the the greatest Archers in. Together we will rain down divine hellfire on those who oppose us. Oh, um, yes of course! There are some bad people in a forest who want threaten the very future of the world and all the children in it." Suffice to say Paula was actually giddy with excitement.

"Oooh on top of the Barbarian lookin' dude, the zealot on the horse and the little kid we got quite the crew. We should start coordinating right away. Ooh I can make diagrams!"

@Parallel Hearts

Hifumi eyed the Servant that appeared before her with a combination of curiosity and doubt. His appearance was different from what she imagine, but not as wild as some of the other Heroic Spirits that her "allies" called upon. Perhaps, he had been called forth in a form that represented the days of his youth? Well, Servants are supposed to come in the form that's their "prime", so it's only natural for them to look young no matter what.

Even so.

"Your name, huh? If you are sure of that, then I have no problem doing it," Hifumi answered first, cocking her head to the side. Was that supposed to be a test? As far as she knew not any other hero was supposed to own that Noble Phantasm, even if others could indeed summon and control the same Phantasmal Beast it was associated with.

"There's only one Legendary Soul that has been given this bridle by none other than the Goddess Athena, one of the oldest monster slayers of the Greek Age of the Gods. Of course, you can't be anyone else other than the Rider of the Pegasus, Bellerophon," Hifumi finally said. There was no way her answer could be wrong, despite her Master's intuition telling her the contrary when she looked at him—perhaps thanks to the effect of a skill—there was no way that this would be no one other than him.

"Very well then, my arrows shall be thine from this time forward," Archer said as she looked at her Master. However, her attention was immediately swayed by the mention of a certain Heroic Spirit's name. She didn't speak anything yet but certainly that bridle could only belong to one man, if the stories Atalanta heard were right.

"If thou wishes to plot with thy allies, I'm willing to listen. However, we should get going to the grounds of the Holy Grail War as fast as possible. There's no point in discussing anything here if we have a whole travel ahead of us to do so," she said, looking towards her Master before staring at the Rider once again.

"Hmm, this summoning ritual... silver, archdukes, stones, this is all worthless to me. Absolutely useless... I suppose I'll just have to draw one up from scratch then. What an inept man that director is, failing to even take into account my own foundation. This looks like it was copied and pasted from some German tome, completely wrong sphere of influence..." Sand scattered about the room, everything smelled of wet iron, his circuits itched as he looked upon his work. It was not home, but it would have to do. He looked over the circle one last time, his fingers wet and gritty as he rubbed the bloody sand onto his pants in a futile attempt to clean them. Nothing would ever clean those hands.

"If my research is correct, the words are meaningless. Any pretense of a ritual is merely for one's own peace of mind, if the grail deems me worthy then the Heroic Spirit will be summoned regardless of words or intent. I suppose those fools in the Clock Tower performed some grand spectacle, lots of bright flashing lights, many grand incantations from each of their respective spheres of influence, a waste of time." He gently set the monocle down onto the sand, taking a step back and activating his circuits. "Well, I suppose it's easy to get caught up in the mood. I may as well say something for you, oh great and grand Holy Grail."



A wind whipped about the room, a veritable sandstorm cutting at his skin as he poured intent and mana into the circle. His arms outstretched to his sides, blood dripped freely from his body, yet it only fed the circle more and more as it began to shine with a grand crimson light. The eye of the storm slowly shrunk, condensing into a human form as the verse came to a close. Just like that, it was over. A young man stood before Asmar, a cocky grin on his lips as he considered the magus before him.

"Hey Mister Anderson would you mind talking with me about some first aid options we have at our disposal? I want to make sure we don't need to expend unnecessary mana." Leon asked Anderson who nodded in agreement, and told him that he'd have his back if he requested it. Leon smiled, and told Brynhildr they'd go looking for some clothes for her later so that she can go out in public without looking suspicious, or silly. Brynhildr thanked him for his consideration before he told her that she should go into spirit form in order to conserve his mana. Leon looked down at his wrist as she vanished into air. Anderson told the others that they'd see him soon enough, and that he'd make sure to see them on the plane before departing with Leon.

Timeskip - 1 Day Later

===

After some stalling for supplies, and last minute prepartions the quick flight to Danzig was relatively short, and simple. It only took a few hours, and the heroes with their masters had little to no difficulty getting from one place to another. King's jet was quick, and fast no doubt due to his vast fortune that he had accumulated in Vegas he was able to buy things like this for convenience sake. After the trip the group was herded together for a quick convoy trip to the small city of Mavas where they found themselves in a bustling small town of relatively sparse industrialization. There were a few blocks of houses on the hilly area, and the main town itself seemed to be a relatively small to medium sized area full of some shopping centers but little else. The city wasn't ancient, or outdated by any means but it wasn't anything you'd find in New York with giant sky scrapers. The trip was quick as very few cars were on the road today, and the journey to the church found the Black Faction in a small corner of town isolated from the rest. A priest with grey hair, and a haggard face greeted those who left the car first. As Anderson got out he went up, and hugged the man greeting him with a smile. Leon, and Lancer who had spoken very little to each other the past day found themselves looking up around at the big blue sky. "I must say flying sure was a nostalgic experience for me. To fly in such a large metal plane would never have occurred to me in the past. It brings back good, and sad memories alike." Lancer said as Leon nodded, and he then considered what would happen as he felt awkward he didn't speak Polish so he hoped the priest here didn't require it.

Leon wondered what was ahead of them exactly they had failed to find the Forest. Monica had left the main group to go, and search the city she insisted she was fine on her own. As Leon turned to look at Lancer who looked quite a lot like a teacher now. Arguably the hottest teacher he had met in his life but then again it turned out she was a Valkyrie from legends past so he guess her appearance fit the bill of one of the viking's angels. But on a more serious note He wondered where the main enemies were.

The priest walked over to the group, and opened his arms wide. "My name is Father Howard. Welcome to the church young ones, and ancient heroes. I hope that the trip went well for all of you. I have prepared individual rooms in the basement for all of your needs as mages be it for rituals, or just for space. You may explore the main room, and the most of the bottom rooms at your discretion. However please respect that the upper area is for priests, and executors only. We're using it for storage space, and to keep documents safe if you are caught up there you will be held accountable for trespassing. Alternatively if you do not wish to be in the basement then you may leave this place and try to found your own lodging. There will be no defiling the alters, or any holy symbols here or I will request that you vacate the church. I'm aware some of you are pagans after all..." the man said as Anderson laughed as he assured the man that no matter what he'd make sure these people behaved themselves in a holy sanctum of the church.

The travel up to the Holy Grail War grounds was a good opportunity to lay down some cooperation plans. Especially those based around their Servants' respective skills. On her side, Hifumi would be willing to lend any information needed, as long as Rider didn't feel about being secretive—which didn't seem to be the case given his introduction. She could only hope that the others wouldn't try to be as misanthropic as Assassin's Master. That would be truly boring.

"Thank you for your kindness, Priest-sama," Hifumi bowed after their host made his rulings known. There was a slight hint of sarcasm in her mannerism but it would probably fly right over the head of anyone not acquainted with the Japanese culture. Nevertheless, these people didn't deserve any better for being so openly moronic about their bigotry.

She was here for one reason, and one reason only. In the grand scheme of things, their opinions didn't matter. At all.

"You are free to do as you wish from now onward, Rider. Just be sure to not cause too much of a ruckus and, avoid contact with these priests. They are too boorish to appreciate beauty such as yours," Hifumi said—with the last two sentences being spoken through their spiritual link—reaching forth to her Servant's hands.

"I'll be downstairs if anyone needs me. I have to begin preparations as soon as possible. The faster we do this, the faster we can go back to our normal lives."

"Can I of thee to accompany me in scouting for the duration of this war, Rider?" Atalanta said not very long after they were in flight, after introducing herself by her True Name.

"The Slayer of the Chimera would be as good companion as I can ever ask for," she added in an overly formal way, typical of high esteem that the Heroic Spirits of the Greek Age of the Gods usually held for one another.

When they arrived at their destination, Archer didn't even bothered with getting inside the church. Instead, she stepped away from her Master as soon as the resident priest himself known. "That kind of man is only good for causing trouble," she said in a voice loaded with animosity as she disappeared, vanishing back into her Spirit Form.

"I'll be out scouting. Don't worry about it, I won't be very far away, Master," Archer added through their Master-Servant connection.

Needless to say, Atalanta's notion of "not very far away," was a little skewed, since she roamed the city in her Spirit Form until finding a lone radio tower a couple kilometers away from the church. There, she perched herself atop one of the tallest antennas, turning back into her physical body so that she could properly scout the countryside area.

Finding her location wouldn't be very complicated for any of the allied Servants since she wasn't trying to hide from them. But, for the time being, the Chaste Huntress stood lonely at the tower reading the winds as she looked for any suspicious movements in the distance.

"Let's take these people with us and get to work. I want that cup."

Straight to the point. Such a strange man, or perhaps boy. But that was good. It made it clear just what the relationship between Master and Servant would be. He was an anchor. Good. That way when Caster was put to death for his grail wish, it would be all the easier. Gesturing to his snowdoll, Vladimir made it more than clear that he like his servant was impatient.

And nothing made one more fitful than sitting in a plane ride for hours. His brief time to prepare his stuff was more than enough to pick up just who he summoned. A man without love. Well, he'd know more about him in time, or perhaps not. Arrival at the base was more than thankful, as it meant he could put his mind to setting up his workshop, rather than other such things.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________


"A Saber? And one of the Holy Church? It seems that you've struck gold indeed Master of Saber. But Miss Saber I must suggest you control yourself. Surely you know by the nature of your summoning that these people are as knight brothers, and sister to you. God doesn't look kindly on the murder of the innocent just as he looks down on killing one's family. Or did you not read the story of Abel, and Cain? Still it is nice to meet your acquaintance as a member of the church, and fervent believer of the holy spirit. Though I do suggest you do not start conflict with some of the others here. Clearly they are from a time less blessed by the savior."

"Oh dear member of the church, you seem to be mistaken." There was nothing but a sweet smile on Saber's lips in response to his overblown speech. "Cain was punished for believing his murder was justified against Christian blood. His spilling of blood was needless and unjustified. Mine though? Totally justified." The way she said that was like it was a revelation. But that was probably a result of her skill. Incitement. Anything she said may as well have been a mental attack designed to make others agree with her. With that though, she was already wandering off, and then...

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She stepped off the plane, and then stood with the rest of the crowd in front of the church. She had collected nearly a hundred plus outfits from the stores during their 'supply run.' Her master's debt rising, but it was necessary. She had to be absolutely beautiful if her lord was to love her properly.

An entire paragraph could be spent describing her short shorts, or the over-sized straw-hat, or just about anything. But that's a waste of time. Just imagine it as something really mis-matched, and for the wrong climate. It must have been a jolt if one was aware that this was an Archbishop.

"Um... You're a priest right?" Saber said, looking to Father Howard with a slight huff. "Right, so you're going to invite me into the upper floors. As an Archbishop, I outrank you." It may have been a major surprise to realize the most poorly dressed individual in the crowd was a holy god-fearing bishop. "Also, I'll be going over each of your holy documents to update them for any inaccuracies that might have occurred through translation over the years. I understand that god's word can be easily misunderstood. In particular there is something I heard on the news about God hating fags. Clearly a horrible typo. The original was very clear about it being figs."

With that said, she stepped forward and scooped Father Howard up in a bridal carry. Taking him away as she marched right into the church, leaving the group behind to discuss what had just happened.

"What an odd Saber you have summoned." Vladimir said. "I hope she is as strong as she is strange."

"Ok, have fun with the broody Rider. Don't do anything I wouldn't do.~" She waved her servant off then turned back to the priest.

"Yeah sure no problem. I assume I am free to measure the arches as long as I don't leave a scratch, kay thanks bye."

She chased after Mifumi, her three large suitcases in tow.

"Yah need any help? I was hoping I could show off my mystic codes."

---

Rider had been in spirit form for most of the journey. Just having met the priesthood his master said he could have free reign. He flared his nostrils at this. His master was assuming she had a say in the matter in the first place. The priest to him seemed friendly enough as was just trying to be as accommodating as he could without committing heresy on his part. Still, Rider had a natural suspicion towards holy men and those who regarded the power of any god above all else. In a way he kind of sympathised with the father, he was but a slave to an unseen divine force.

"Very well, priest. I shall not defile a single inch of your holy site. However, I urge you to consider your shackles."

Master stop flirting with me, you're not my type. Rider furrowed his brow. Modern lingo was...odd.

His attention was drawn to the Archer from his age, the Chaste Bowwoman Atalanta. He was happy to see someone from his own time here. He had never met the archer in life, having died well before the Argonauts took the the seas, but the Throne of Heroes had granted him some knowledge within his 'canon'. He felt a certain kinship with the fellow beast slayer.

"Very well, Feller of the Calydonian Boar. I shall accompany you." He took spirit form and followed Atalanta. He could have easily out-sped her, but decided that she was better to lead the way. Arriving at the tower, he took form directly below Atalanta in the pylon, casually leaning against the one of the support beams.

"My master failed my test. I was trying to see if she wasn't 'loose-lipped'. She failed spectacularly. I would have preferred it if she mistook me for, eugh, Perseus."

He remained silent for a bit before speaking again.

"See anything, Chaste Huntress?"

---

@Parallel Hearts

“She’s certainly spirited. I’m sure she’ll be quite a handful for the Grey’s to deal with when the time comes.” Thomas approaching Vladimir, joining the conversation as their party stood outside of the church, minus those who had already left of course. Turning towards the errant Saber’s master the older Magus raised a hand and gestures after the Servant’s retreating form with his cane. “Perhaps you should go save the poor Father from his fate?”

Chuckling to himself Thomas walked into the church, carrying or pulling his luggage behind him; he’d had to leave England in a bit of a hurry and as such was not able to bring as much as he would normally have liked, a single suitcase and one small satchel, but he had made sure to bring all of the accoutrements of his craft from his workshop back home. Anything else could be purchased as necessary.

The flight over had been uneventful and was both mercifully short and over far too soon; he did not need to spend the time becoming acquainted with his Servant like some of the others, what use was it trying to understand the mind of a Berserker after all, and had instead whiled the hours away with his carving. He had managed to produce three small statuettes over the course of the flight, fewer than he would have hoped, from blocks of wax he liked to keep on hand for just such a purpose; the figures now resided in the satchel he carried at his side.

Perhaps Mr King would admonish him for leaving wax shavings all over the floor of his fancy private plane once he found out about it, not that it would bother Thomas in the slightest.

“I’ll have to see these rooms you’ve prepared for us before I make a decision about where to setup. It may be wiser to spread ourselves out regardless; there might be power in numbers but there’s no reason to make ourselves a convenient target for the Grey’s either.”

@Reflection@vancexentan@ManyThings

"In life you outranked us Archbishop but now you are a heroic spirit. A being chained to reality that you should no longer be a part of. With all due respect if you wish for information on the church, and its current methods than I shall provide them but anything that may compromise our own operations here by the masters shall be denied to you. This spot is a place where Executioners, and local church members come to rest. As such we have things here that may be sold to our enemies, or leaked improperly. This is not an insult to you Saber. Simply put we don't wish to endanger our faculty here. We're providing safe refuge and it would do well for those who eat our bread, and drink our water to not insult their hosts.." Father Howard stated to Saber rather bluntly. He made it quite clear there he had no intention of bowing to a dead archbishop no matter who she may have been in life. He turned on his heel disregarding any forthcoming comments as he led the group inside the pews were here, and there.

As Father Howard led the group through a door in the back of the church he made a sudden turn left into a broom closet, and opened a trap door which was hidden underneath fake flooring. The way down was somewhat cramped but Father Howard informed them that the below was formerly in use by Polish soldiers during the second world war in order to hide from Nazi's who occupied the country. It was expanded upon back in the 80's, and has since been used to train church trainees in certain rituals but now had been cleared out to provide a place for Caster, and the other masters a way to make a small base of sort. Every group had one room which they could hold both master, and servant. "I may ask what prevents familiars from spying on us down here?" Lancer questioned as she looked at the Reverend. Howard smiled and nodded. "I assure you that you'd know. The place is lined with brick, and mortar. As well as lead. Its basically a bunker. If anyone spies on you then you'll know it. There are plenty of exits, and should the need arise I'm positive your servants can simply break through the stone, and make a big hole in the basement. If it comes to that then the church is already lost regardless." Howard responded as he let the masters do as they wished be it go downstairs, or prepare to handle the situation as hand of the Greys' forest. Leon chose to head downstairs and prepare himself. As he went down the cramped staircase he found the damp, and dark entrance to be rather disturbing in a horror movie sense. However the massive hall downstairs was surprising.

Compared to the stairs Leon found the large hallways filled with doors leading to many rooms to be strange. It was like he had walked into a big government building. Some of the doors were labelled as storage, and others were labelled as living spaces for the masters. The halls seem to go infinitely in one direction, or the other branching off into different corners, and other hallways. It would seem they found themselves in a maze of sorts if not the fact that there were plastered maps on the ends of most of the hallways in order to show which rooms were where in accordance to their current position. "I am...impressed, and also somewhat scared that priests have giant mazes in the bottom of their freakin' churches." Leon stated as he looked down the corridors. "You may pick a room of your choosing. Set up there, and I'll prepare dinner before you launch your operation. You may do so as you choose we are after all just priests, and not members of the Black Faction."

"If I got a yen every time I was right about something regarding this 'mission'," Hifumi sighed as she heard the Priest's answer to Lancer's question.

Of course she shouldn't expect the Church to know how Magi do battle with one another. Thankfully, she was more than able to remedy it.

"Sure, I believe that we should begin by setting up a workshop, then. Setting up a bounded field to repel unwanted attention and ward off uninvited guests, would be a good beginning, but better a course of action should be considered later. A wall, no matter how thick it's is nothing for a proper Magus' when it comes to scrying methods, after all. We cannot simply assume that we are safe here," Hifumi said, answering Paula's question. Having someone competent with magic similar to hers would expedite the creation of a proper bounded field many times over.


"This is not a war that we need to keep secrecy about one another. Knowing our allies True Names and skills would greatly benefit everyone, thus you shouldn't rue over thy Master, Rider. There probably was no way she would understand your intentions," Atalanta replied in a nonchalant from her perch.

"No. But that's the unnatural part of it. I cannot see the trees, smell the leaves, or hear the cries of the forest beasts. I want to investigate further into those hills, but our Masters are taking their time with their setup," she replied after being asked if she noticed something.

"How about you look at this then lass." Anderson stated as he shoved Leon aside and pulled out his pocket watch. He tapped the thing three times, and the watch's surface transformed into a glassy viewing glass with the top of the church clearly visible. "I can see it like this because I'm using a magic watch that was designed by Atlas. Given to be as a gift for helping one of its directors out on a mission. On the other hand..." Anderson poked the glass gently, and the glass zoomed in only for a purple, and black mist to form around it obscuring anything from view. Anderson tapped a couple more times. It stayed the same. "Personalized bounded field. Keeps mages like you from spying on the church from doing god's proper work. Perhaps you'd best test your theories before you question our methods. The field obscures, and dries out any attempts to see into the church. Turning it into a blot would just make it too obvious. The lined walls are to prevent modern technology, and or physical familiars like rats from entering. Like the good Father said this is a bunker for the church's mage hunters. Not silly veterans scared of communists, and or nazis....well that's not entirely true it use to be." Anderson joked as he scratched his head.