The tastes of the era will always change. At one time in the world, beef was a popular dish. In another time it was cheap wine flavored with herbs to make it palatable. In his time, such a feast might have consisted of things such as lamb, or beans, or most usually... Bread. They had stews, and would dip artichokes into sauces taken from all over the world. In his time and day, Persia had been the kingdom of the endless feast. A kingdom that enjoyed endless wealth.

The meal presented was surely a buffet of all the world's cultures. For good reason. Kings existed in all parts of the world. Good food was not invented by the Persian empire... But one could say the best food came from Persia and that person would be right. Still, as Xerxes gazed over the spread, the music seemed to begin in earnest.

He found a tree to lean against, massive hand wrapped a glass of the wine of he had taken from the procession. He stirred it about almost lazily, as he watched the others step in. The first, came in with his master. He could make a few guesses based on the kind of dress the other servant wore. Middle Eastern, what era he couldn't say for sure. Babylon? Persia? That kind of outfit was popular for many eras in those regions. So at the very least he knew a kindred king of deserts had arrived.

The second, Greek. Possibly. He was making an educated guess. He had seen enough Greeks to know they would be the most popular kind of servant to be summoned. After all, they had managed to make quite a hold on much of the western world's ideals in men and literature. A saber, judging from what little he could overhear. Not bad, he would enjoy fighting such a man no doubt.

Then... There was the host. Xerxes said nothing as that man made a fool of himself. Instead, taking a long sip of his wine, and counting the seconds that speech went on. At its end, he spoke.
"Will somebody put a muzzle on that feral mutt?" He said, voice projecting through the courtyard. "No matter your conquests, a mongrel is a mongrel, and a king is a king. A mutt may bare its fangs, and wear a crown, but it is still born from a bitch."
How disgusting. A man like that had hosted this event? Perhaps it was more the master's doing, and FAR less the servant. Perhaps this was Xerxes own fault. After all, he was born in purple. Born as the son of Darius the King, and descendant of Cyrus the Great. He was the heir of two legacies, great and proud. This man though? This demon in human flesh that so recklessly called itself greater? The man's air... Was terrifying. Indeed he may very well be a demon. Something that made men sick and run. But kings are not men. They are better.
"If you wish to impress, you may do so by cutting the first leg of lamb and offering it to the God above. Then we may all properly feast. Before the food gets cold with your showboating."

________________________
@ReallyDumb@BB@Crusader Lord@Phonic@Yankee@Phlogistinator@Aoko Aozaki@Phonic

________________________


There was something terrifying about the way Caster seemed to know everything. It made sense though. This was the one who foresaw the fall of Troy, and no matter her shouting... None dared believe her. It may very well be a lie, considering servants were naturally inclined with certain attributes that allowed them to fight fate and destiny. But even then, she didn't want to be the one to say 'yeah right' only to end up dying in a rather lame fashion. At least servants were guaranteed to go out fighting.

"Oh hush, I don't blame you." Ariadne said with a smile. She took her wine, and took a long sip of it. "After all, I'm the one who wanted to go get coffee today." She sighed, and decided to change the subject. Passing the blame around between the two of them wasn't going to do either any good.
"I was actually thinking of ways we might be able to improve our odds. Nothing... Life altering, but certainly far more valuable than simply hiding the whole war and leaping out to attack the last team standing. I'm here to punish those who set up this war, not merely host parties."

Either way, she took a seat, and gazed into those two glasses. Seemed there was more than one gathering at hand. For the one at the park, she had to admit that one identified as an Oni was... Certainly rather scary. The power alone was impressive. Still, if power alone was a factor in battle, than heroes like Theseus would have been killed by the Minotaur. Though... Strength had allowed Achilles to kill Hector, so strength did have its benefits.
"So... Are we going to be taking bets on who wins? I know you already know who will win, but you can at the very least humor me on this."

“Huh, wait! I forgot to bring Hippo-kun! Oh no!” Looking up at the flying red dot in the sky, Astolfo had tried to summon his Hippogriff to go and say hello. Whoever was up there had a great idea, scouting the city from above, but he couldn’t join them. How sad, how sad.

For a moment, he wracked his brain trying to think of Servants that travelled in small red airborne vehicles. “Wait a minute- could that be Santa Claus?” He wasn’t sure about the timing, but even if that was wrong, Santa Claus could certainly have been summoned as a Servant. Would his Noble Phantasm be his sled, a method of traversing the entire world in a single night using the theoretical power of imaginary numbers? Would it be the machine of mass surveillance used to construct his list of absolute judgement? Or would it be the coal (curse) imposed upon naughty children? Any of them would be pretty hard to deal with. “Oh no, am I going to have to fight Santa?” Astolfo squeaked, terrified by the possibility.

As it turned out, that wouldn’t be a worry for long, as the red dot in the sky began to collapse towards the earth. For a moment, Astolfo smiled in relief at the knowledge that he would no longer have to fight Santa Claus. “Wait! That means someone else is attacking Santa Claus! That’s even worse!” Setting aside how powerful an enemy would have to be to deal with Santa’s omniscient machine and capacity to dodge any attack, it meant he wouldn’t be around to deliver presents to the world’s children! Astolfo took off on an immediate sprint, running towards the crash site.

Tears welled in his eyes as he saw that nobody had survived the crash. It didn’t really look like a sled, but by this point Astolfo’s imaginative theories had swelled to ‘fact’ in his mind. Picking up a tattered briefcase, a tear dropped from his eyes and splashed on the leather. “Don’t worry, Santa. I will inherit this burden. Yes, that’s right. There must always be a Santa, after all.”

Then, as if the sadness had never existed at all, he perked up. “Aha, get ready Fuyuki! It’s time for Astolfo-chan to deliver presents to all the good children of the city! Ah, but where do I start… And how do I tell who’s good?” Racked by the difficulty of the question, Astolfo sat in thought for a while, all considerations of the Grail War and the task given to him by his Master completely forgotten.

@Astarte @Cu Chulainn



It had certainly been strange to learn of Hercules’ Master and the lengths he had gone to avoiding his various debts. Markansas would have to try harder to match the evils of loan sharks.

In any case, his method of ‘healing’ was highly compatible with these injuries. By now, the inner organs were all entirely functional and standard, and perhaps that had caused Markansas to go a little overboard on the eye. It was a pitch black obsidian orb with rings of many colours where the iris should be, flashing in and out of existence. Each ring was jagged, surrounded by a pentagram.

“You’ll probably have to keep the eyepatch,” He said, a note of sheepishness in his voice. Quickly, he followed up with a return to his usual bombastic style; “The evil eye of perdition is not something to be witnessed by mortals, after all.”

“Take some time to rest,” He said. “After all, it wouldn’t do if you go and die on me. Fufufufu….”

It occurred to Markansas that this sort of healing didn’t mix well with his image. While he’d been willing to talk to Hercules entirely seriously, his Master was another matter entirely. Yes, he needed some kind of excuse here. “If each of those organs was so valuable, their replacements must be just as valuable… Taking into account the cost of the materials- Yes, I expect to be paid back in full. A villain such as I would never act out of pure charity, after all.”

@ReallyDumb

---

“Hm...someone is watching us?”

That was...problematic, but also expected. In war where multiple Servants of the same class existed, something like this was bound to happen. Still, observing the park instead of the invitation over at the school? Did Flur’s invitation really create such a ruckus? The 3 Magi and 4 Servants present, plus the abnormality, the likely Assassin lurking, and the Master looking through the little girl servant’s eyes.

Her Servant’s concern was valid, this place was definitely a death trap.

Seeing the actions of the little girl Servant’s actions caused Amara to use her Master’s Clairvoyance on the Servants present. The stats manifested as stars, of course. The average Strength and Agility of the Servants involved was A.

This park was rapidly becoming a place to die. Amara would need to take extra precautions with this fight, but that wasn’t exactly a problem. As long as she remained aware of the potential dangers, then nothing should have been a big issue.

After all, she had like, three “jet out of jail” cards.

“I’ll be careful, Caster. You should also be safe though, you’re more involved than I’ll be.”

Using her super secret power of “Having a Caster Servant,” Amara was altered to where the other Master’s were hiding out. While it was a cowardly move, it was understandable. The Servants here were on another level, hiding from that death trap was only normal. Still, there was something that Amara needed to find out.

With her newly acquired speed boost, Amara darted around the far side of the battlefield, over towards the tree everyone seemed to have been hiding behind. Was there something important about this tree? Was it a magic tree? Did the tree speak to them? Whatever it was, Amara would find out in less than a moment. It was during this time that she’d pull out her Jambiya and activate them, causing them to hover around the area.

She appeared next to the two boy’s, a smile plastered on her face. Of course, to those two, it probably seemed like she teleported over more than anything. Amara truly hoped she didn’t scare anyone, but if she went slow, the odds of getting in the crossfire were very high.

“Hello!”

She greets the two, her smile still as bright as ever.

“I’ve come to speak with the Head of the Flur Family. I’m sorry for the um, sudden arrival, but I have an important question to ask! Once I’ve confirmed it I’ll be out of here!”

Of course, seeing as the boy was an illusionist, she was ready for him to just dart of there. Still, hopefully they could have a nice, cordial conversation.

---

---

---

---

After hearing the host’s words, Nebuchadnezzar protectively pulled his Master closer to him. While he couldn’t be sure how serious this man was, he wasn’t going to risk his Master’s safety. And even if it was one, Nebuchadnzzar could clearly tell that the man before him was dangerous. Maybe not as a Servant, but as a person? He was the most dangerous kind of person there was.

Still, not wanting to be a poor guest, Rider smiled at the host, though it was closer to a confident smirk than anything.

“How could that be? I’m already the rightful ruler of everything. Even the people I conquered agreed. You’d have to be a King on my level for something like that…”

A King as grand as Nebuchadnezzar was possible, but who?

“Cyrus the Elder was truly an equal, but Augustus’ administration was something to admire. Agamemnon’s ability to handle others is legendary, and Ramesses II was definitely the greatest of kings before me…”

He was mostly mumbling to himself, going over a list of great kings besides himself. He overlooked Alexander, Ashoka, and everyone from the Far East, but besides that, he felt his list was fairly solid.

“Still, if you claim yourself to be great, then how can I argue? It’ll be an honor to clash with you when the time comes. This city is an ill fitting battle ground, but that can be overlooked. What could be greater than a battle between history’s finest!?”

Still keeping his master close, Nebuchadnezzar walked over the table and grabbed a glass of wine and took a sip. It was a bit bitter than what he preferred, but it would have to do. His personal preference for the wine of the Levant. Of course, not that mevushal crap, that was putrid. The lengths Hebrews would go to make sure others couldn’t tolerate their wine. Now, whenever Hebrews produced non-mevushal wine, it was quality. Truly, they were was a confusing bunch.

The others included a king garbed in Middle Eastern attire and a Greek. Thankfully, they were a culturally similar group. Imagine if a Japanese king showed up to this? How were they supposed to relate to someone like that?

“Our host may not care for pleasantries, but I do. Please, everyone, tell me about yourselves. I’ll start. I’m a King.”

...Well, everyone here was a king, so that wasn’t saying very much. The man paused for a moment to think of what else he could tell the others. Having to avoid his true name was very annoying, but he felt that his Master wouldn’t be too pleased if he went around shouting it.

“I like staring at the beauty of a river at sunset, I like the arts, and I’m a friend of the gods, though I have some issues with a particular one.”

These were too generic. Think Nebu, think! What could start up an interesting conversation that wasn’t totally used before…

“Ah! What do you all think being a King entails?

Genius.

“Familiar, indeed.”

Saber’s words, whispered to his Master, were accompanied by a small smile — one different from those confident smirks he had shown him, or the bold grins he seemed so fond of sharing. Much like the sentence, it carried an edge of wistfulness, a faint nostalgia.

Even if many years passed between his time on that ship and the adventures of his later life — there was no doubt that the memory of those days would never fade. However, before he could call out to the musician…

It seemed that tonight’s host had a few choice words for those gathered here.

From an outside perspective, there would be no dramatic change of appearance — a smile remained on his face, his bearing still oozed confidence, and he seemed to take the other Servant’s frankly ridiculous demands in stride.

And yet, compared to the brightness he had shown his Master so far, the dark look he was shooting the one that proclaimed himself the greatest of them all was so different that one might think him another person entirely.

What a repulsive laugh. He gladly matched it with his own chuckle, though it certainly carried no humor behind it.

Yeah, just from those words alone, Saber already knew that him and that guy—

“Unfortunately, that would conflict with my goals as they are. That being said, if you want my head, you can come and take it if you can.

“It’ll be my pleasure to break your face when you do.”

—would absolutely never get along.

But Saber was no barbarian. He would not be the first to draw weapons and break hospitality — if the other Servant took offense and came to him, it would be another story, but as it was, he would leave the matter alone for now. Rather, another one of the guests seemingly sought to salvage the meeting from going to hell before it truly began, and so, posed the first real question of the night.

“...Hm. That’s a bit tough.”

Despite having become a “king”, Theseus had never thought much about the change, partly due to the heartache it had come with, partly because he simply saw it as an extension of responsibilities he had already taken on his shoulders the moment he had stepped out of Troezen and into Attica.

The burdens and responsibilities that came with the throne, the hopes and expectations that accompanied the crown, they were new in some ways, yet overall not too different from what he had already been doing to begin with.

Simply put, rather than “a king who was a hero”, he was “a hero who was a king”.

“I guess if I had to say, it’d be “answering”. People swear themselves to you, entrust their lives to you, and give their loyalty to you. In return, the king puts his own life on the line for them, watches over and nurtures and kingdom, and carries the burdens of its people without flinching.

“In the end, for me, it has always been about protecting what I wanted to protect. That has never once changed.”

@Yankee @Aoko Aozaki @ReallyDumb @Phonic [everyone-else-at-this-place]

What had this girl been thinking using a cursed thorn as a relic to a summoning? The chant called to him from the Throne of heroes. Yet he did not answer the call at first. Not as the heroic spirit of challenge and honor. There was something wicked about the location of his summoning. As if it was tainted by another that made his very existence mad. And that thorn did not help it. So he heeded the call, but it was likely not what she expected.

The circle exploded with magical energy that took form. Furniture was thrown about from the crackling energy as the man materialized into the human world 'again'. What she saw was likely not what she had originally expected. Did she want a Lancer with hair of blue? Or perhaps the teacher from her Underworldly castle? Instead the blonde haired brute stepped forward from the wreckage of his summoning. A barbed spear tight in his grip and a broad blade going horizontally across his back. It was possible beneath the half slung tunic that the man had some level of pale flesh. But that was impossible to tell at the moment as thorns coated his chest and arms. Thick growing vines with gnarled, jagged, pointed edges. Much akin to the very thorn she had used to summon him.


In that single moment his eyes darted over towards young girl who looked like she was more dressed up for a night on the town than a war. Was she following in his Queen's mind set? Wait. Why did his thoughts go to Medb in that moment? It was hard to focus on any one thought. All he knew is that deep down he wanted to fight. So badly did the desire build in his soul to crush an opponent. His hands though moved to the vines that formed over his horned skin and took hold. He ripped away and brushed off the foliage with relative ease. Letting it drop to the ground and wither away the second it was no longer connected to his body. Revealing the Irishman's black tattoos that went down across his face and lead right to that bright smile.



@Astarte

Shinto Town: City Streets

Stelle took a break at a bus stop. She wasn't waiting for public transport, but rather changing her attention to see through Assassin's eyes.

"Yes, I did," she replied once she got a hold of the situation. After she turned her mind away from the conflict happening at the park, she continued her walk towards the church. "As I expected, this isn't a conflict that can be won by strength of arms alone. We must outthink our adversaries while making sure they don't anticipate our moves."

"Search for any Masters that are easy targets in the nearby area. Leave no witnesses. Any humans you judge worth killing are fair game as long as you are clean and quick. If possible, consume their souls to power yourself up. However, if another Servant gets in your way, don't engage them. Do you best to shake them off and come back to me," Stelle said. She was sure that giving free rein to murder as many as he felt like was going to be enticing for a man such as Assassin. Even if he had any objections against it, all she needed to do was make use of a Command Seal.

Shinto Town: Ariadne's Workshop

"If you want to improve our odds, why don't we go out and write some Masters off the competition already? Even as we speak, many of them are sure to be wandering the streets close to us," Caster said to her Master after turning her attention back to the puppy in her lap.

"That anomaly in the park worries me. If I keep my spells active in that area, there's no way of telling what will happen. The Moirai are still weaving their tapestry over these lands. I don't know how much of my powers are trustworthy. However, I'm certain that, the image will become clearer."

She could sense that they had been discovered already. Most likely the work of another Caster. Having to compete with someone whose magecraft skills were close to hers was going to be a greater challenge than dealing with a Berserker.

"For the time being, let me try to locate who is around us," Cassandra said as she produced a third glass, focusing her magical energy on it, performing a much more thorough search of Shinto Town.

---

@Reflection@King Cosmos

Abandoned Farmhouse, Western Farms
@Over Illusion @Yankee @SSW

Speaking honestly, he’d not expected this when he signed up for this war.

There were a lot of things he thought might have happened. Death was an easy one. More debts from somewhere piling onto him was a given. Winning...extremely far off initially but perhaps doable upon summoning a Servant.

But getting new organs to help patch up the problems he’d been experiencing? Sure, they were puppet organs and not exactly the most normal thing, but if it meant he wouldn’t be peeing red every now and then or throwing up some food because he didn’t realize his body wasn’t capable of properly digesting it?

Fuck, even his new eye was really cool! It was still kind of itchy and weird to look through though, so Tom ended up keeping the eyepatch on, probably until he’d gotten used to the new eye.

His elation and joy had kept rising when he realized just how much the pain of the organs he’d lost had been crippling him. His optimism rose-

“If each of those organs was so valuable, their replacements must be just as valuable… Taking into account the cost of the materials- Yes, I expect to be paid back in full. A villain such as I would never act out of pure charity, after all.”

-Before plummeting down like a star to the earth.

“A-ah, yes, of course.”

Debt. Would he never be free of it? No matter where he went, what he did, he could only feel his obligations pile upon his back, more and more and more.

You will never know freedom child. You have never known freedom. Your sin, your burden, it is yours and has clung to you since birth.

He wished to save money.

There is no escape.

He wished to finish college.

There is no help.

He wished to sleep well.

There is only-

He wished-

Pay-
Pay-
Pay.

_{Debt Forgiveness}
For a Miracle.

The Faker's gaze looked to the world outside, a smile toying at the edges of his lips in response to the Berserker. A few moments passed in silence before he shook his head, a low laugh leaving his throat. "...no, not at all. The two could not be further from one another. If it is born from hate, then it is far simpler. Hate has an 'end', boy. It has a focus, a finitude to it. You might scream, and rage, and curse, but when the object of your hatred is gone, though the hatred itself might linger, it will fade with time."

His expression sharpened, a fog entering his eyes as a hand came up to rest against glass. "Love, love is different. Love does not have an end, it does not fade away. If you wish to save something you love, your work is never truly done. No...perhaps that's a poor way of putting it. Rather, if your work is truly done, it means that the outcome is fixed, it means that the thing you love has been deprived of the chance to evolve and change. Love is never complete, that is its beauty and its terror."

Finally, the spell was broken, and he looked away from the glass. Now, he looked to the boy king with all of his attention. A question had been asked, and so out of gratitude to his Master and out of caution for the boy, he would answer truthfully.

"The name 'Hercules' was not always mine. I had another name before, a name I left behind, a name that sounds like that of a stranger's now." The words were calm, measured. Each statement was truthful. Indeed, his name had not always been Hercules, but Hercules' own name had not always been such; indeed, he was born Alkeides, and took the name Hercules to cleanse himself of his sins, of the curses of his father's wife. "I am Hercules, and in this I can be happy. I have the power to save the people before me, I have the power to slay the monsters before me. I am, without question, a hero."

That smile across his face became melancholy, a low breath leaving him. For a moment, the grandiose figure seemed small.

"...and yet, this was not my choice. Becoming a hero was something I was forced to partake in, something that I did to escape the curse placed upon me. By becoming Hercules, I defied my fate, I became a great hero and shattered that curse."

This was the story of Alkeides becoming Heracles. One destined for greatness, a man who was set upon the path of a hero before he was born, to atone for sins he had no choice in. Crushing the curse of Hera, he became something great.

This was the story of Commodus becoming Hercules. One destined for greatness, a man who was set upon the path of an emperor before he was born, and who found escape in the name of a hero. Crushing the curse of a crown, he became something terrible.

"But, seeing you, and seeing my contractor who bears a curse of the same make, I can't help but think that, if I was given the choice again, I wonder..."

Those last words did not leave him. 'Would I have been happier being a human?' 'Would I have been happier being a king?' 'Would I have been happier being Emperor Commodus?' He could not say those words. He could not think those words. He could not reject the strength that Hercules was.

Because, Hercules could defeat the people's enemies. Hercules could save the people's lives. Hercules could make the people smile. Emperor Commodus could do none of these things. Emperor Commodus was a small, weak man, who could only run.

"...that is enough for now. Boy, let us greet these kings. It is only right that ones who believe themselves to stand above the masses bear witness to the sky above the sky."

And so they went.

---

Yes, indeed, the time had come! Kings of the earth and sky, now you shall bear witness to something beyond such trivial mortalities!

"Fuahaha! The great Hercules has arrived to grace this gathering!"

The great fool arrived, alongside those he had allied. There was none of the emotion from his conversation with the boy king, there was merely bombastic spectacle, the desire to put on a show.

"As tribute, I have brought the spoils of war, the Nemean Lion, reborn and slain once again!"

The object that had been hefted over his shoulder was haphazardly thrown forwards into the middle of the gathering, the pelt of a lion. Or-

...wait, no.

No, that was definitely a lion costume.

That was definitely a random adult male civilian who had been stuffed into a lion costume.

"...h-help...m-m-me..."

A hoarse, choked plea left the costumed salaryman, who was evidently just barely still conscious. A lion paw shakily raised itself up off of the ground as he began straining to crawl in the direction of Timurlane, desperation splayed across his face.

"Hya!"

A mere moment later, though, the hero bravely stepped into action, delivering a chop onto the back of the salaryman's lion's neck, at which point the beast collapsed.

...shit, was he dea- okay, okay, he was still breathing. We're good. Phew.

"Fuahaha! That was a close one, he was coming right for your throat! No need to worry, though, the Nemean Lion is nothing of note when the great Hercules is present!"

After having saved Timurlane from that inevitable, lion-based demise, he struck a pose, awaiting the applause that was to come.

Altera sat atop the building and stared at the fireworks as they went off, the flag to which many heroes and kings gathered to discuss the war that lay before them. The king Timurlane demanded their heads, an unequivocal surrender in the face of the Great King of Destruction. Had Altera been in there, she would have likely laughed at the foolish man, who thought he could claim the title of "Great King of Destruction." She would have spat in his face and attacked then and there, no doubt starting a chain reaction of decadent violence that would have made this banquet a true party, something every warrior inside could have appreciated.

As Commodus entered the Academy with "Nemean Lion" in hand, Altera nodded to herself as she stood up, stretching out her arms and working out the kinks in her shoulders. "To prolong Destruction any further would be an affront to God. Let us begin our campaign and bring glory to the Hun!" She was of course speaking to Cordula, who had been kept at her side at all times. It would not do for some cowardly and faceless assassin to slay the girl, she was what kept Altera bound to this world after all.

A band of colors shimmers into existence within her grasp, solidifying into a mighty spear of many hues. She takes a single step back, raising the Photon Beam into the air as she takes aim, her stance impeccable as mana begins to pour out of her and condense around the spear. It is a heavy thing, filled with the souls of every Hun under her command. Their wrath, their joy, their pride, all of it wants to destroy. Destroy, destroy, destroy, every hint of civilization that offends the eyes.



She steps forward and releases, firing the beam of light into the sky at speeds which offend the eyes. A boom echoes through the area, the only warning the kings would receive before her judgement rained down upon them. One spear becomes many, as a thousand javelins pierce through the first layer of Fuyuki Academy. The roof is instantly annihilated, the ground outside is peppered with a field of craters, javelins planted firmly in the middle of each. The top floor of the Academy is next to go, the roof is likely beginning to collapse on the banquet as Servants scramble to protect their Masters. There would be no escape, as the fury of the Hun army pounded away at them until there was nothing left of them but ash and bone. Each and every King, each and every hero, each and every ounce of Civilization. They must fall, they must be destroyed so that their wretched forms do not continue to offend Him.

Banquet, Academy
A wonderful eve. It had been going so well, Orpheus enjoying himself as he set the backdrop for the discussion and merriment of this legendary gathering of nobility across the ages. He chose to let things unfold as they would, seeing that things would go wonderfully without his own input.

Then, that Faker he had met earlier in the morning had deigned to intrude upon the party, as he had expected. The fellow he had brought as part of his interesting little skit was wildly out of place, but one could only suppose that this was to be expected, of such a fraudulent Heracles who attempted to reach upon the name of that Legendary Hero. Nevertheless, he gave a little ditty upon the “nemean lion” falling unconscious.

A roar draws his attention, his finely honed ears hearing the actions of that pestilence. The spear flies, and he clicks his tongue. A harsh strum of his instrument, and the defensive barrier akin to that of the witch who had flung herself upon the Argo springs up in defense of the banquet, awaiting the tidefall of steel. The rain of destruction which would blot out the moon, which would rip apart every last brick, every stone upon which this land of Civilization stood-

-Entered the Territory of Orpheus the Musician, and lost their edge. The hounding spears which would annihilate the Light of Man, degraded as Orpheus would not permit the death of the home of Music.

The spears fell upon the shield. The spears stopped.

The minstrel was now furious.

“For you, a Dirge.”

“Gahahaha! I see you have been tasked with providing the entertainment for your king! A worthy offering, if I do say so myself!” Timur told the newly arrived man. After all, the death of a single person was not anything to concern Timur of, especially a boring man. If it was a cute woman, as a “feminist”, Timur might have been upset by the turn of events, but this was no the case.

“Going to a party without providing something of a service is rather rude, after all. Wouldn’t you all agree! Gahahahaha!”

Timur laughed again. He truly was enjoying himself at this moment. The brutality against other men was something that he simply laughed at in any given situation. He was the man who had made pyramids of skulls to show that even those who had surrendered peacefully to him would not be spared his wrath. A true scourge upon the world. However, his laughter stopped short when “Something” whispered in his ear. He could feel the thrum of the world itself for the moment as his attention began to draw itself towards a direction out of sight.

To this, he turned towards Nebuchadnezzar and began to speak.

“Let me answer you who asked what it means to be a King. A king’s duty is not to his people. It is not to any semblance of country; any duty to those who wave his banner. A king’s duty is to himself! A subject works for a king, and when ordered to die, should die. That is what it means to be a ruler. That is what it means to take the emblem of a country for oneself. And that is what it takes to become a great ruler. A duty of a king is not to his subjects, but for his subject to have a duty to their king! The actions of a king should not reflect concern for his people, but concern for his possession!”

Timur began his life as a poor thief with nothing to his name and rose to become one of the greatest empires to ever exist in the world. A being of infamy whose brutality was nothing short of cruel and unusual to his opponents, and even to his allies, but all in the name of “expansion”. He wanted everything. Fame, women, wealth, and … he had forgotten the last thing that he wanted a long time ago when he had steeled his heart for himself and his possessions.

He could not let this “other” kill his Slave. Even if they were not the person who bounded them to this world, they were the person that had sworn their fealty to him through choosing him as the summoned Servant in this Grail War. The very act of summoning Rider meant submission to his whims. The very act of abandoning his Slave would mean abandoning all he owned, and Timur was not the sort who would ever share his toys and allow someone to ruin his possessions. He would protect his Slave with his very body of blades, making sure that she would not be harmed, along with himself in a storm of blades.

“However, when someone attacks what you own, you are to destroy them to the utmost of your ability as a leader. That is your responsibility for your possessions. And this person, who had targeted my SLAVE and my LAND, I shall show them no mercy. Come, my hordes. Rage! RAGE! RAGE!!!”

The first shot rang out behind Timur with his “Super Elephant Invincible Delhi Destruction Force”.

And the second.

And the next.

And then the next.

All at the same time, together in a cacophonous symphony of cannons were all one could hear, drowning out the air like a hymn of destruction. However, beyond the cacophony of his weapons, one could hear a sound. A sound that struck fear into the hearts of men who had heard it upon the battlefield.

... And what sound was …

“GAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

"GAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Disgust.
How else does one describe feelings like this directed towards "Heracles." A disgusting man who kidnapped an innocent. If Ruler didn't get involved just from that alone, Xerxes might just lose faith in such a figure at all. Not that it mattered. A he stopped leaning against his tree, he began to walk towards the rest of the group. Ready to speak, to shame this "Hero" who disgraced the name of all others! Both of them.

But as he approached... A warning came. An attack is coming. The words of god, descended upon him, and spoke into his ears. His magical energy surged, and his reaction was clear.
"Filthy mongrel! The role of a king is to be a flawless symbol! The people are slaves to their every whim, yes. That much of what you said is true. But a king is to be a beacon of perfection! The height of humanity! A symbol of God's grace on earth! To defile that with your barbaric tastes, and worse your ego... IS A MOCKERY OF WHAT A KING STANDS FOR!"
His heart was pounding in his chest. Disgusted, insulted! "I shall show you what a king truly is! Not a barbarian, but a rallying force! The will of the king is the will of the people, so says I! The king who stands closest to God, as is the wish of God himself!"

From the earth, rose soldiers. The undead forces that lived forever! The Immortals! They stood not as simple men, but as a goliaths. Each two men tall, and carrying a shield as thick as another man. Several began to form, interlocking their shields together. Raising them higher into the air as they began to form a barrier around their king. Well, their king, and another smaller group for Caster. After all, Caster had come in as Xerxes plus two, so that man was under his protection now.

This was a defense he had seen only once in his life. A replication of a defense that held out a pass at Thermopylae for three days. A kind of phalanx, just like the one Leonidas had done to protect his forces. This phalanx, three layers of soldiers thick, all piling around their king (and Caster) like a dome was the very definition of "A perfect defense." Well, as perfect as one could get.
Any attacks that broke through the barrier of attacks from both that demon rider, and Caster would fall weakly upon the layered defense of a king. Meaningless before it. The response though...

As soon as the peppering of spears relaxed... Xerxes responded in kind.

"SOLDIERS! FORM UP!"
The undead soldiers he had gathered for this was a fraction of the true force he could control, even without unleashing the true name. He had no need for that now, but rather to respond with a small barrage of his own, to hopefully scare off the attacker from a repeat showing. So, the large soldiers began to split apart, forming into three smaller soldiers each. Each carrying a bow and arrow. They raised their aim high, and waited... Waiting for their king. They did not wait long.
"FIRE!" Each arrow sailed through the air, and cut through the night sky. Where Lancer stood, where she had begun her attack from, arrows sailed down. Peppering the roof and the next one over. A pause, before a second volley, just to be safe. Arrows sailing through the sky again, darkening the moon briefly with each.

"So, I have one question... Who invited the Lancer?"



________________________
@ReallyDumb@BB@Crusader Lord@Phonic@Yankee@Phlogistinator@Aoko Aozaki@Phonic@Flood

For a moment, there was curiosity. Even if he was no magus, he, like any Servant, could feel the torrent of magical energy that was made manifest in the world. He could feel its meaning, its nature, resonating to his core with a similarity that he could feel the bare traces of.

"Oh...?"

For a moment, his expression sharpened, that grin sliding off of his face and replaced with cold steel. A kindred spirit? The same sort of existence? That thought was snuffed out once those javelins made their appearance, however. No, this was not the same as him. It was the same in some regard, it was undoubtedly a calamity that undid civilization, but it was far too different. It was a calamity that came from outside, that left nothing left, that eradicated civilization. It was not degradation or rot, it was simply a culling.

Had those other Servants, guided by the words of their gods, not been faster to address the threat, perhaps he would have deigned to answer it himself. That was a pointless conjecture, though; they had, and so he had no need to do that. He forced those thoughts, those feelings down. They were different than him; he had no duty to see their path through.

His expression slackened. That same carefree grin rose back to his face, as the assault made upon the academy was warded off. His arms spread out, hands unclenched as he let out a raucous laugh, the collision of Noble Phantasms in the sky above like the going-off of so many fireworks, in celebration of his arrival.

"Fuahaha, what a welcome! You have done well, to prepare such a glorious demonstration for the manifestation of Hercules!"

Declaring such nonsensical things, the fool reveled in his own foolhardiness.

Moments before the Oni made their move, Caster messaged the demon her intent. Using the principles of high-thaumaturgy, she increased their agility and elemental resistance toward wind. With this boost in power, it was probably more possible for Berserker to truly face two opponents at once.

For Hypatia, who operated on an alien logic, supporting this demon was the correct route toward victory right now. In alignment with the eastern goblin's attack, Hypatia unleashed a magical formula over the three combatants. A suppressive hail of sparks and bolts flew out at extreme speeds, aimed at the two Japanese monster hunters. These attacks were something that could certainly kill a normal human, but against a Servant the situation was different. In any case, Caster was just using this to probe her two new opponents.

Given her position was now revealed to her enemies, she also prepared for any sudden attack. It was, perhaps, to be expected. But with the defenses in place, they were free to come.

The girl couldn't help but stare at her Master for a moment longer than was respectfully necessary, her bow dematerializing from her hands as she lifted both hands to rub at her temples in concern. She could feel the headaches beginning but she refused to let it take hold.


With a quick huff, the Archer hopped from the roof, rolling onto her shoulder and popping back up immediately into a run and taking off for the woods. Before she ran off, she slowed her pace and called out to her carefree Master who was retreating into the house.

"I expect at least 3 strawberry tacos when I return!"

Turning to face forward, Hou Yi took off for the plane crash, prepared to eradicate this Servant Santa Claus from the war so that she could return home to a hefty plate of Ron's waffle tacos. For as troublesome as the boy was, his unique take on cuisine was rather enjoyable for the Archer to partake in.

Breaking through the last couple of trees that stood in her way, Hou Yi hopped into the clearing created by the wrecked red plane only to have to skid to an immediate stop. She had definitely sensed the presence of a Servant and had assumed the Master was in the plane with them, but the male before her was not the aviator she had laid eyes on earlier. Instead, she found a pink haired...boy? Girl? Definitely girl.

Holding her right arm just behind her body, her magnificent bow appeared once more. She held her position, the golden eyes of the young girl trained on the Servant before her. From her thigh high socks, to her pleated skirt, to her oddly maid-ish looking outfit to her...bunny ears?


As she listened in on the bunny maid's fretting erratic statements, she came to quite the worrisome realization. This pink girl even thinks like Master. Quickly, very quickly, Hou Yi should remove this problematic presence from her sight. Though...seeing the Servant act so similarly to Ron's behaviors made her hesitate in lifting her bow before herself.


With a sigh, she stepped forward and cleared her throat soon after.

"Ma'am, the person who died here was not Santa, that is not a sleigh, and you are not the new Santa either."

---

_{@Cu Chulainn@SSW}

As soon as the first signs of her call being answered began, Chris simultaneously started bouncing on her heels in anticipation. Her short bobbed haircut bobbled with each rebound, the girl's blue eyes lit up with her unwavering excitement.


Stepping over to flicker on the overhead light, Chris spun about to introduce herself to her Servant.
Only to stumble slightly over her feet a second later.

"Gilla? Uhh..I mean, like, I went to Anguilla on a spring break once but they didn't even have an all inclusive resort and TBH their beaches weren't that amazing either. But no no, I'm American. The United States. Of America. The U. S. of A! And my name is Chris!"

Now that she had regained her balance, she began to walk in a circle around the tattooed man, carefully gauging him with those trained blue eyes of hers. She had spent many a year giving guys the judgmental and calculating survey of a single once-over, as anyone would expect of a best friend meeting her gal pal's new boy toy for the first time! Much to her delight, with that quick observation, what she saw was exactly what she was looking for.


Holding one hand out, Chris flashed a bright and toothy grin to the man. Once more, her excitement was clear.

"An absolute pleasure to meet you, Ferdiad!"

With a clap of her hands and a setting of her foot, the girl's expression suddenly lost most of the childish delight that it had displayed just a moment before.

"Now then, I am not one who likes to waste her precious time so I do believe we should get straight to business. And to kick it all of I do believe we should tackle the most glaring order of business before us. Ferdiad - you need a major wardrobe upgrade."

---

_@Relex

Initially Zoe had keep in following alongside her teacher and taking notes from his performance, though soon things began to get more interesting and dangerous as the time passed.

At first she had been sitting back with her servant, playing her guitar and doing her best to act as an accompaniment as she listened to the melodies he played and tried to keep up and in tune. She wasn't doing half bad at least, though it wasn't the first time she'd put her mind to something to hone her skills either. At least the talk about kingship was some form of entertaining, though not much relevant to her own interests and goals. However, what had her servant told her? "Set the mood, witness the interactions, and record the stories being told"? That was right, yes. He was a great hero, but he was also someone who had witnessed other heroes and used his mastery of music to record that! So a hero could be one who did great deeds, but also took note from what was going on around him like a good musician! It was great advice, really, though she was no stranger to putting her effort into something.

Indeed, hard work was a necessity! Every effort was a Herculean labor that pushed one to the brink, every bit of training an absolute measure to dedicate all of one's self to, every bit of-

-...hey, who was that barging in? Wasn't that the fake Heracles guy she'd been told about? He seemed as hammy and fake as she had imagined hours ago, much to her ire, but had he really just brought in a random Japanese guy in a lion suit and chopped his neck?! Zoe had to restrain herself from yelling out at the big fake, who of all things imitating her country's greatest hero of old like some clown! She bet those stupid parameters of his weren't real either, much like his big fake personality! Though wait...the Japanese guy seemed to still be alive. Whew. At least the big, loud servant here seemed to be taking in the false bravado in stride.

Zoe let out a small, slightly exasperated sigh as she played before looking over to her servant. At least that Japanese guy from earlier was here, with his Greek servant in tow.

"Hey teacher, should we see if you know that Japanese kid's servant-"

Her words did not come fast enough. A rain of ruinous spears, falling down from the sky like arrows, shot down towards them all. Her servant clicked his tongue, strummed his instrument, and a barrier arose. The heroine only had time to listen to her instincts at first, diving behind her servant for cover from the spears. Though in her haste she also cast a single-action spell, erecting a small water shield between her servant (who was between her and the spears) and the spears.

Despite not being much to cast on the fly, maybe it would help? She had no idea, but she couldn't just do nothing either!

[@Whine and Dine]

---

Yamato felt her Berserk skill kick into gear, and her instincts cry aloud as her foes made their move. An oni hurtling at her with lethal intent, a great club hefted at her. A stroke of lightning was being fired her way. She could feel what was going to happen in an instant, and the Berserker's body shot to the side to avoid the attack with the help of an instant jet of wind and her own sheer speed. The oni's club would smash into the earth, and the lightning strike at her position, but the Brave of Yamato was far from being hit by them. No, she had darted to the side, away from the lightning and away from the impact zone of that demonic club.

It would have been so very "samurai" of someone, much less anyone, here to think that anything but a clusterf*** of things would occur. Of course, that had never been the case for her. She was no samurai. She was a warrior. She was a prince of the Emperor. She was the divine blade that smote the unruly peoples and their gods to ash, and that slew evil and brought civilization and order to them! Such was her function. She too wielded her ancestor's divine blade, a holy object that defied evil and smote its foes like a tempest! And now her killing intent was too akin to a tempest, yet glowing hot like the hot fires of the sun. Her fury was channeled into raw skill and instincts that had slain many a foe in her lifetime, into even the form of the peerless warrior that had conquered all before her!

There were no words needed.



Yes, that was correct. This abomination had to die, whether now or later. And it would do so without fail. Even the sword held in the Berserker's hands seemed to pulse somewhat, as if ready to cleave its head in half and tear its body to ribbons.

Without another word, Yamato flowed from finishing her dodge away from danger into a counterattack. The Berserker lashed out, firing off a potent burst of divine wind from her sword at the oni it was pointed towards. Time to rumble.

@Scallop@Froppy@wug@flood@argonaut@BB

---

The words of the Greek set Nebuchadnezzar’s heart alight. He had no clue who this man was, but he was a TRUE king. This unidentified Servant fully understood what it meant to be a king. Glamor and conquest was important, but there was nothing greater than making sure those under you were protected and nurtured. Rider’s face couldn’t hide is excitement for such a king, forcing a bright smile to appear.

Of course, this smile didn’t last long.

As this man calling himself “Hercules” entered the banquet soon after. That was odd, especially since the Greek spelling was “Heracles,” but maybe being summoned in Japan ruined that? Either way, Nebuchadnezzar’s smile instantly faded once this “Hercules” revealed his version of the “Nemean Lion.” Seeing an innocent bystander in the state that he was caused Rider to flinch.

Savagery.

There was no better way to describe “that” performance. He understood that Magi and Servants could act in less than savoury ways and he accepted that...but this was almost too cruel. He wasn’t a resource, just a prop in a pathetic side show act. Such a waste of life was horrid, but savages cared little about such things.

At this point, it didn’t really matter. The rules dictated that anyone who was witness to them was to be killed, to protect the secrecy of the events involved. Even if this “Nemean Lion” wasn’t dead yet, either his memory needed to be wiped, or he needed to die. Such a terrible fate this “Hercules” gave to him. Unfortunately, these were the rules of this moonlit world, no matter how much it upsets Nebuchadnezzar.

He would merely look away from the brute, avoiding his torture of the poor man. At the very least, Nebuchadnezzar wouldn’t bear witness to such brutality.

It was the very end of this torture scene that Rider heard those annoying whispers once more. At this point, he almost got a headache every time they came, but he was still thankful for their advice. It seemed that the rest of the kings at the banquet also possessed such an ability, seeing as they immediately began to prepare for it.

They also felt the need to answer his question on kingship during this time, which of course was met with a look of disgust.

Those men knew nothing. Like ignorant children, they believed themselves kings when they were nothing but tyrants. This was terrible, but it could be remedied. If they were truly ignorant, then Nebuchadnezzar would teach them. It was proper for a king to make sure his people were educated.

Rider began to move towards the Greek, as only he seemed like the proper king here. It was a sign of solidarity, that among these barbarians, he could have some solace that a spark of civilization was present. Of course, he was dragging his Master along with him the entire time.

“You’re both close, but you’re both fundamentally wrong. The people as slaves to your will? That isn’t what it means to be a king.”

How could it be? A king ignorant to the wishes of his people is doomed to fall. Nebuchadnezzar enslaved an entire people, but even he knew this much.

“To protect your possessions and to be perfect? Those are such shortsighted goals in the end. I wonder how history has characterized you two, for I fear it isn’t well.”

Nebuchadnezzar couldn’t be sure who these two were, but they definitely reminded him of the scourge from the steppes. Not that he was alive for that, but thankfully the Grail filled him in on stuff like that.

He continued to move, fully trusting in the protection skills of those two and the musician. Plus, it wasn’t like he had much to protect himself with.

“A king should cherish the gods, for it is they who give you your authority to rule. Without their blessings, we merely parade as leaders. To not act as proper kings means we disrespect them.”

As the living embodiment of Marduk on Earth, Nebuchadnezzar took his role to the gods with the utmost seriousness. To throw away all the faith they had in him would be his greatest shame. A king had to a proper king for his gods.

“To flaunt your greatness to your enemies is important, but never forget to let your people thrive in your success.”

Nebuchadnezzar nurtured all under his care, from the funding of schools to ensuring those within Babylon ate.

“A king should should never ignore the cries of his people and most importantly---”

It was at this time that Nebuchadnezzar had arrived next to Theseus. He could respect this man as an equal, at least on some level. Rider had no idea if this man fulfilled his other outlined criteria, but since he followed the most important tenant, Rider was sure that this man was a good king.

As the javelins fully began to rain down, Nebuchadnezzar smiled. He had no means of protecting himself beyond trusting in the two people he had spent this time lecturing. It was ironic, especially considering what his last ideal was, but the two seemed hellbent on protecting the banquet. Still, Rider couldn’t be sure that their defenses would be enough.

But this was fine, as Nebuchadnezzar didn’t care all that much about protecting himself.

He pulled his Master even closer into him, enveloping her body. On the microscopic chance that all of these defenses failed, then at the very least, he would be able to protect his Master. Nebuchadnezzar would be her bulwark, something to protect her from the rain of javelins. The King would be the canopy which protected those who sat beneath it.

And so, as he readied for impact, the man shouted his most important criteria.

“---To be a proper king is to protect the image and smile of everyone under you!!!”

@Crusader Lord@Over Illusion@Reflection@Flood@ReallyDumb@Phonic@Breo

Walter Garbury
Shinto, Town proper - Heading Back to Harbor

GOTTA BLAST

Walter shuffled uncomfortably through the streets of Shinto before gulping uncomfortably, having sent Hassan on ahead and let out a deep sigh. How did he get into this damn situation? It was Night one, and already he could feel the odds were stacked against him. He bit down hard on his tongue before nodding.

"Assassin, it's Walt, I'm gonna head back to the warehouse, keep an eye on that Park business or some shit, I'm gonna duck back so I'm not an easy target, if you figure out any Servant's true names, lemme know and I'll do a google, for now, I'm going to retreat back and grab some drinks. If you need assistance just let me know and I'll send the golems out." he telepathically said to her before turning on his heel and clumsily sneaking through the streets.

The blue-clad bartender just wanted this all to wind down, even though he could tell he had summoned a lethal weapon of a girl, he knew all it would take is a full-scale attack that would wipe him out in a blink of a lie. He sighed and started to run towards the harbor again, skipping through the streets of Shinto.

@Seirei No Hai

Momotaro

The Thot Extermination
Fuyuki Park

Momotaro was very conflicted.

The young hero was no strategist, he was not born to lead troops and make smart decisions, he followed his heart and delivered justice when he saw people in turmoil. Joy was what he brought, through his actions and his decisions, he brought joy and happiness and persevered. This situation with this fellow warrior and this demonic beast of an oni girl, well, it made him feel a little queasy. Damn he really needed another one of his Master's candies.

"Sword of the goddesses! I'm honored to fight alongside you tonight! I, however, shall allow you the honour of slaying this beast. I' don't know about you but I have had my fill of Oni slaying ahaha, to face another is just a cruel twist of fate! So I shall aid y--"


Before he could even conclude, that burst of energy took place and his eyes widened in shock, sparks falling to the ground, his reflexes and luck allowing him to avoid them, for the most part, charring his clothes a little before blocking a couple with his sword. The steely yet youthful gaze of the young warrior turned to seek out the enemy that was assisting this demon.

He locked eyes on her position and dug his feet into the ground before bounding towards her, sword drawn and his hand going down into his satchel. He could feel this environment, this weaver of misfortune had filled this with her tricks yet he had no idea what. Defenses. Perfect.

He advanced towards her with great haste, his hand tightening around something within his satchel, and his other tight around his sword, ready to evade anymore attacks as he sidestepped through the lightning, blocking it as much as he could.


"An ally of a demon is an enemy of me! Perhaps we can discuss this rather than the carving of the path of fate!"

He gritted his teeth, continuing his race towards the Greek mathematician.

The heroes attending the makeshift banquet in the courtyard were inspiring indeed. Though Jigen stuck close to his servant, he kept his head up and continued studying the others. To him they all seemed like decent people, which was good news as far as he was concerned. Earlier when Saber had explained just what kind of "war" he was no involved in, Jigen took his warnings to heart. Now, though, he thought it was only right that a noble warrior like Saber would clash with others of the same mind. Yes, all the heroes he could see didn't seem overly hostile or particularly menacing... save for one. The man sat upon his bladed throne. When he stood and spoke Jigen felt nervousness wash over him, but the student forced himself to stay put right where he was, upright. After all, what kind of partner to an epic hero would he be if he got scared off just from the sight of an enemy?

The others' replies, including Saber's own, to the man eased the situation just a little. Then, of course, another guest appeared. Jigen looked between the man claiming to be Hercules and Zoe and her servant. She'd told him he was a fake, but even if she hadn't he might have been able to figure it out based on his actions alone. That was no lion, it was a man!

"Hey! You can't just - " Jigen started to say, looking at the poor unconscious man on the ground. He had wanted to somehow defend that man from this indignity, but suddenly the part goers started to move and shout. Javelins rained around them and the heroes gathered fired back until the assault was over. Jigen didn't possess any form of magecraft to speak of, let alone defensive, so he'd thrown his arms around his head but once the rain of attacks ceased he peeked out from between his elbows and cautiously lowered his arms. Another servant protectively holding his master had wandered closer to them, and though Jigen didn't sense any ill intent from the man he stayed vigilant just in case. An attack could come from anywhere at anytime - wasn't that just proven?

Saber, that was... Jigen's thoughts drifted through his telekinetic link with Theseus. It was amazing, terrifying, awesome, and horrible. The power of a servant was hard to wrap his head around, but even seeing some of the other masters move to defend he felt conflicted. Being a part of the conflict made him feel larger than life, like he was part of something important, but he might as well be a bystander. What should - how can I help out?

---

The Pharaoh considered his current companion's reply. Before the man answered his question, he spoke on the nature of love and hate, and Berserker respectfully let him without interrupting. He made some fine points. Berserker wasn't entirely sure he agreed, but it was an interesting perspective nonetheless. Men and gods alike were made immortal by love, that much Berserker thought to be true, but he knew from experience that hatred could take hold in a person's spirit so firmly that they could pass it on to others. That hatred, though it may take a different shape, could live on in multiple people, in multiple forms, a cursed line that connected all those who shared it. The priests, artisans and spirits that resented his father also resented Berserker, despite his attempts to right Akhenaten's wrongs. The gods his father rejected haunted his family even after his death. The other servant considered the lingering of the feeling, but the ghosts of hatred had been lingering on for a long, long time.

At some point during his thoughts, Berserker's eyes had drifted closed. When he sensed the other man shift, his eyes opened once again and he lay his cool gaze on 'Hercules' - or, as it was divulged, not Hercules. At least, not always. The boy king searched the man's face for the full truth. He wasn't sure if he found it, but he came to understand either way. A man desperate to be anyone else, embracing an identity that was thrust upon him.

"...wonder if you could trying breaking your curse not as Hercules, but as your true self?" Berserker guessed, taking advantage of the man's pause. He shrugged a shoulder, absently gesturing with a hand as a bitter smirk formed on his face. "A curse is a hard thing to break, though you know this if you had to don the mantle of such a mighty hero to do it. Whether you lived with regrets about your identity then, and still harbor them now... There is no use thinking about it unless you can claim the Grail."

Of course, if only one master and servant could claim it, Berserker had no intentions of letting his ally do so. Though he wouldn't admit it aloud, the Pharaoh was quite content to discuss these things with the man who had become Hercules. When he wasn't speaking in the hero's persona, he had a solemn dignity about him that intrigued Berserker. He thought that perhaps the man really would have been better off fighting his fate as a man and not a legend, but then again, what was the point of thinking about "what if's?"

Wow, what a greeting. The fireworks were a little unnecessary though. Compared to the large figure of "Hercules," the small servant draped in gold and lapis wasn't very imposing at all. The boy and his master followed behind their boisterous ally as the shower of javelins were dispatched by the combined forces of the kings and their minstrel. Some, Berserker recognized from earlier at the bank, others he didn't, but they were all the same: lowly beings before a Pharaoh. Even as a weak servant, he was still ruler of Egypt.

Berserker had the feeling the mysterious Lancer would back off after their failed assault, so while "Hercules" played himself up Berserker's eyes flitted among the crowd. With Markansas at his back, Berserker reached out to him through their bond.

Master, recall what I told you earlier - your servant is a physically weak one. However, should the need arise... he began. The show of power just a moment ago gave him some idea as to the strength of the others, but if anymore of a scuffle broke out it would be useful to know which he may even have a chance contending with, if any, especially the showboating persona of the other servant next to them would serve as a big enough distraction. Tell me what you can about them.

Caster adjusted her multiple perceptions immediately, preparing for her coming movement. Avoiding attacks from the Archer or Assassin class was paramount, and blindspots couldn't be tolerated. Continued monitoring of the Tohsaka Manor was critical, as well. Though Caster doubted they had the proper line of sight to fire on this position, she wasn't about to take any chances.

As the opposing japanese Saber began to look for her position, Hypatia enacted a program to deal with the observer gazing on Fuyuki Park. In the very same moment, Caster manipulated etherlite in tandem with magical energy to obfuscate herself against masters clairvoyance. To onlookers, it probably looked as if she was surrounded by something like electronic static.

Given the Saber bounding toward her with all the power expected of the Knight classes, Hypatia only had a few moments. Even still, he had a large distance to cover, and obstacles to navigate. Her high-speed spellcodes assisted by prepared formulas, were much faster than even a second.

Given the moments of time afforded, she wove a tapestry of magecraft in preparation for Sabers assault. Hypatia expanded her peceptions and the capacity of her calculations by means of astrology, then created a high-ranking barrier on Sabers path toward her boundary field. All the while, she twitched her fingers too and fro as if controlling a puppet, preparing and optimizing the etherlite for combat and escape. As Saber closed in with his blinding speed, she flew backwards toward the opposing edge of the clearing. In her place, she called forth a horde of black monkeys and an abnormally large crocodile who would attack and slow down her opponent when they reached the boundary fields center.

Finally, Caster created an ablative barrier around herself that could reflect even high level attacks. She could afford no chances against an Irregular Value such as this opponent.

Analyze.
Calculate.

She noted the way he was positioned and presented himself on the approach, and added it to her calculations.

Moments before Saber finally entered visual range(of normal humans, at least), Caster unleashed a torrent of offensive magecraft not unlike a modern chaingun. These bolts of lightning were more akin to fast moving (small)circular spheres. However, weirdly this torrent of attacks were not particularly accurate. To someone with an ability based around battle sense, they could probably tell this was an attempt at suppression instead of a pure attack.

For Caster, who had already gauged her opponents magic resistance based on behavior and effect, this was her strongest opening move.

. . .That being said, they were far from the 'Rays of light' used by the likes of Medea.

Unfortunately, their power was much lower and optimized to probably be just enough to inflict 'genuine' harm based on this servants magic resistance. In terms of offensive capacity, some moderate damage and infliction of the 'stun' condition was the only thing of worth. It was a relatively cheap mass attack, after all.

However in exchange for diminished offensive power, they held a property with massive utility. They bounced, and any attack that was deflected or outright missed would go flying in a 'random' direction. Bouncing against the trees, the ground, every 'shot' seemed like it had an intended trajectory and location, creating obstacles(patterns) of light across the entire field. Attacks would come at Saber from quite literally every possible angle.

As he approached, Caster 'spoke'.

"Observation: I am no ally of the Demon, Saber. A small skirmish was required and you obliged such a future. Do well, and I'll inform you of the strongest opponent in the war." Her voice spoke from no direction and yet all of them at once. A product of magecraft, to be certain. Her tone seemed rather affable and laid back, which was in line with just wanting a small exhibition match.

"But Saber. If you use your Noble Phantasm, I'll destroy you." It wasn't the grandstanding or egotism common to the Kings presiding over the nearby Banquet. It was if she was listing a fact off without an ounce of humanity within her voice.