Evening, at a certain magician's mansion.

"Tell me, Ruler, am I a terrible man for misleading all those children just so I can achieve my own selfish dream?" An old man with a downcast expression asked his conversation partner. He nursed a drink nostalgically while the only background noise in the room died in the crimson glow of the early evening was an old record playing Vivaldi.

His partner didn't partake in his libation, choosing to focus her gaze on the ashen sky and the distant hills, stained with alternating tones of red as vivid as her hair and dark like her sacramental attire.

"That's not—"She was about to answer the question when her voice was drowned by one of the powerful allegros the priestly composer is known for, throwing her back into deep introspection.

"'The soul becomes dyed with the color of its thoughts', If such is true then..."

"...I no doubt have the blackest soul of them all."

A chilling drizzle began to pour just as the last performance came to and end. Ruler turned around to face the tired man. Instead of addressing the question, she said in a gentle voice, fitting of her saintly persona, "It's going to be a cold night. It may even snow later. Would you like me to prepare you something before I leave?"


An hour later, at the roof of the Monarch Hotel.

Even though the bone-chilling drizzle persisted into the night, and she stood alone at the roof for several minutes already, Ruler's clothes didn't show any signs of being soaked. It was as if nature itself understood that her saintly aura wouldn't waver and thus, avoided her out of spite—or admiration.


"Listen to me, O Heroic Spirits summoned by the call of the Holy Grail," she said. Her words were carried by the wind, reaching every one of the Servants by the authority the Grail granted her.

"I'm the Ruler, Barbara of Heliopolis. By the authority granted to me by the Holy Grail, hereby I declare the beginning of the Great Holy Grail War of Black Rock. Fight with honor and cause no unnecessary collateral damage as you pursue what you yearn for."

"May the Lord's protection be with all of you."

And so it began, the Great Holy Grail War of Black Rock.

In the spacious living room of a creaky old homestead in Blackrock’s most ancient district, there stood an empty hearth.

For a long time, it had been the beating heart of the household. Strong young men would go out into the woods and chop down a big old tree, then hack it all to pieces and drag the lot back home, ready to serve as nightly fuel for a warm and welcoming blaze. For generations, tongs and pokers had stirred the flames, whipping them up as the sun sank out of sight and the cold night winds swept in from the east. And all together the family had gathered around, warming their hands and faces, staring in quiet wonder at the fiercely dancing flames.

Then, slowly but surely, things had changed. First it was the regulations on logging, forcing the use of splintery store-bought timber. Next it was a swarm of grunting construction workers, tearing apart the creaky house to install a new heating system. Last came the slow but steady erosion of family itself, as men and women died and divorced and moved away to seek their fortunes somewhere other than this sad backwater town. One by one, the fire-lit faces faded away into nothingness, until all that remained was an old man quietly stirring the embers of a dead, forsaken flame. Until he too had passed on, and all became cold and silent. Old burn marks, stray flakes of ash, a rusted poker leaning uselessly against a wall.

Life had long since left this house, and in its wake a ghost had taken up residence. A porcelain doll, with a voice like silk and an angel’s face that stared out at the world with melancholy indifference. She stood in front of the hearth, feet apart and hands clasped behind her back, her eyes fixed on nothing at all. It had been ten minutes since she had last made a conscious effort to move.

From time to time her eyes would blink, and now and again some faint tremor seemed to shiver from her neck all the way down to her pale fingertips, but for the most part she remained motionless, seemingly unaware of the seconds ticking by. She had no need for light, and still less for warmth. Such things were useless at best and impediments at worst when it came to careful thought and calculation, and right now Alba was thinking very hard indeed.

With no less than thirty potential players, of uncertain allegiance and nearly completely unknown abilities, this so-called War was shaping up to be the most irritatingly complex trial she’d faced in centuries. From a certain angle, one could even glimpse a small frown upon her delicate features, as she mentally reviewed her plans and preparations, searching for gaps. She had been working hard these last two weeks, and it was imperative that she did not let it go to waste.

Where some mages were satisfied with a single room as their workshop, aeons of self-imposed isolation had left this girl fussier than most. Unwilling to even share a building with the other Masters of her faction, she had quietly taken over a nearby residence and turned the entire thing into her personal studio. What had been a charming home now resembled some bizarre form of military stockpile: etched symbols sprawled across every available surface, golem shells loomed immobile in the shadows, and myriad materials stood stacked up in neat little towers next to completed mystic codes and weapons. It was all very orderly and well-kept, with an almost finicky precision to its general organization, though the number of sharp objects lying around was perhaps a little unnerving. As for the building’s exterior, it looked completely ordinary, all its anomalies disguised by a cunning Bounded Field. Alba had taken care not to let herself be seen moving to and from this place, preferring to have it pass completely unnoticed rather than test its defenses against history’s greatest killers.

Archer…

She still hadn’t moved, but the word echoed out through a deeply rooted mental connection, sounding across the city to where her Servant waited. She’d sent him out over an hour earlier, with instructions to position himself wherever he thought it best.

You may begin.



“Draw their attention.”

That had been her order. Spoken aloud to her Servant, and then later explained to those allies of the Black faction who’d seen fit to make contact with her before tonight. She had notified them of her intentions, so that they might take advantage as they saw fit, though frankly she wasn’t expecting much out of those idiot children.

“It doesn’t matter how. Excepting my workshop, any location will suffice. Just make sure it’s something they won’t miss.”

Archer was to be the bait, the signal, the opening salvo. It was perhaps the riskiest move one could make at this stage of the game, but Alba had her reasons, and trusted in her chosen warrior.

“Killing them is not our primary goal. What matters most is that you return to me alive at the end of the night… You should be able to do that much, no?”

According to legend, Philoctetes had escaped certain death on more than one occasion. Fortunate, that, given what he was likely to be up against tonight.

Cause attention huh... It seemed another servant was already planning to do that. Besides, Philoctetes was an archer. He was expected to snipe, not leap in and cause a scene. It's no use attacking from a range if people know you're someplace. Then they just avoid it, or hide. Sure, he could shoot through a building, but you don't cause that kind of attention on the first night! Eesh, what kind of monster did he let summon him?

In any regard, he had found himself someplace solid to hide out. The old mining outpost higher up along the mountain ridge. Quiet, dark, and as he sat perched on top of an old telegram tower, long since past its use, he could see the whole city off in the distance. The wires alone told him which direction the city was, so at the very least he didn't have to worry too much. With eyes like his he could easily see the park in the middle of downtown. The rocky mountains overlooked the city after all.

Still, he had a more important though on his mind. He had spent his time scouting the area. He'd have to report something to his master, some suspicions, but... No, not now. No need.

"You know, I'm an archer. I was thinking more along the lines of... Supporting from afar, and then just shooting anybody who runs my way." Philoctetes transmitted back. "I don't need to cause too much alarm right now after all. The only threat I can imagine at this moment is the other team's archer, who hasn't made a move yet. I'll wait to see if they're busy, and then make my move. You don't attack a wall unless you know the defenders can't knock your ladders down."

Either way, he notched an arrow onto his bow, and took aim, right at the back of his own team's Berserker. "Oops, my arrow slipped." He said, despite not firing. It was tempting to. The guy was... Weird.

_________________________________________________________________


"You know Rider, I have a feeling there is a special relationship between us." Maeve said, sitting atop the back of a horse. Rider's horse, and just getting comfy. She had only the most basic of horse back riding training, but... She got the jist of it easily. She'd have preferred a motorcycle, but those are harder to fight on the back of.

"You have such a way of... Well conquering. I know I've said this before, but I want to see that in action. No doubt somebody is out there hoping to draw in attention. Our goal, is to spring that trap." Simple, obvious, Maeve wasn't worried about springing any traps. After all, despite the team she'd joined being a group of... Well not so well adjusted people, there was a slight reward in knowing she'd have some sort of back-up. And best of all, she had the Lugh of Celtchar. Just a safety measure.
The spear in question was wrapped in fabric, asleep on her back. The living spear of Lugh, that devoured her enemies. She was more than ready to fight another master if required, and best of all... She wasn't too worried about Archers. Their killing lust directed at a master was more than enough to awaken her spear at a moment's notice.

"So, right now... We wait. Ready when you are, Rider."

_________________________________________________________________


He had been summoned for a reason. Asclepius knew that. Of course he would be, for nobody else could handle the delicate task of healing like he could. That's why he had set up in the suburban sprawl. A more subdued location, but... A fine enough place. He knew that it was considered very poor taste to attack a hospital, which he pretty much was running, but the other team might not care if he was exclusively healing his allies. Not that he'd turn down the chance to operate on a Berserker from the enemy side.

"Well, I guess it's only fine that I keep to my own works." He said, adjusting a set of chemicals in a jar. "At the very least no Berserker will be asking me to make them candy."

---

In the Downtown Residential District, there stood an antique manor just on the outskirts of the southern edge of the city. The pitter patter of rain pouring could be heard as the home was buffet by some winds.

Isaac was currently in his workshop, the young mage having taken the garage in order to easily deploy his golems due to their weight and stature. The materials he had delivered were piled up in a neat space, ancient parchments, clay, stones, and other components were neatly placed around him replacing the vehicles that once called this area home. They were quite costly and would more than likely leave his personal funds in a dire state, still he was no fool, he needed to create golems of the highest quality if he wanted to at least provide even a crucial micro second of a distraction to help his servant.

Isaac was almost complete with the first one, a robust and rough looking statue stood before him. To the casual observer it would seem like a half finished statue, but Isaac knew going for aesthetics would be a waste of effort. He was neither selling it to a client to act as a discreet safety measure, nor was it being made to pass for a human. His only goal was to create a sturdy weapon, more than capable enough to either kill or tire out any enemy masters it encountered.

His hands not stopping their efforts to finalize his creation for even the briefest moments. Isaac's fingers continued to work while he started to talk with his servant.

"Very well Archer, I shall coordinate with the others after I add the final component to this body."

Sending his answer through their telepathic link, Isaac finalized his creation by writing the last of the necessary arias of the Yetzirah to finally give the golem life. His creation suddenly began to glow as it drew power from the jewel he had placed inside it's body. Isaac quickly ordered it to become dormant with a wave of his hand, not wanting to waste the energy. The young man finally finished, turned to his personal golem as it stood motionless guarding him as always. Taking a breath as he quickly left his Workshop with Marigold in tow, aiming to go to the main room to strategize.

"But I advise going to Rider's current location for now rather than wait for the others. Her master's willingness to ride with her to danger is quite worrying."

---

"Hmm?" Rider tilted her head backwards to get a glimpse of her Master, an eyebrow raised curiously. Maeve Dóeltenga, her summoner to this Holy Great War. Maeve Dóeltenda, her newest Mangudai. Indeed, Genghis had yet to see any problems with her Master, and the words that she uttered had forced a grin to form on the King of Slaughterers' lips. "Y'think so, Master? Heh, I'm inclined to agree. I think this is the magical thing called friendship, eh?"

Ever so charismatic, few people could see the similarities between the aloof Rider and the stories surrounding her. She was well aware that her reputation for senseless murder and defiling well preceeded her; she had, after all, created that reputation willingly. Yet none could deny one thing after finally meeting her; she was a life-loving figure that much rather ensure safety and happiness of people. And her unspoken evil acts were some of the ways to protect people; if her frightening reputation could subdue an army, cause cities to surrender at sight, or make any corrupt bastard piss his pants, then that is lives saved. But, conquest will always claim lives. That's simply the nature of it. "You've said it quite plenty, my Mangudai. And I'll never tire from hearing it; as if getting tired of praise offered by beautiful people is ever something I will. Mm, yes, the strongest weapon in any conquest remains the to-be-conquered's fear, after all~" She whistled out between her teeth.

Turning herself around in her saddle, gazing onto Maeve from afront; then down to her trusted steed that she'd offered the Master. "Moreover, are you getting used to the saddle? Moriny Günj here seems to like you as well." Offering the white horse named Moriny Günj, Tseneglech's own daughter, a warm pat along the muzzle before peering up; "She rarely takes to a rider, save for myself, so that's good."

Leaning back again, sitting more comfortably atop Tsene, rolling her shoulders before clutching the reins; "And, naturally. I was born ready, but you already know this~"

---

"Oi, Castah? Castah? Where are yah, Castaaah~?!" On her tippytoes, the excitable brunette called out into the halls of their base. Running here, there, everywhere in search of the False Pharaoh of a servant that she'd somehow attained. Only a week had passed since she accidentally summoned her within a pyramid she'd explored, and somehow gotten dragged into some weird thing with wishes and such. She hardly grasped any of it, not that she really thought much of it either, but she knew there was some truth to it all. Her eyes atleast revealed the person that had spawned by her side, the Caster, had been in a different era of history. And that's the reason she even decided to tag along. "Castaaah! You promised I'd get to see all these cool stories and heroes! C'mon, we don't have time to just..."

"Oh, there you are. Whatcha doin there?" Stepping into the room in her usual fashion, one foot forward, body tilting forward, before making a cheery piroette at the very pose... then finally walking normal in. She knew Caster had been hard at work setting up some base of sorts, something about a workshop or something, and she knew she shouldn't intrude unless it's necessary... but her fascination, her excitement, her curiosity; it had peaked! "How's the chingamalinga going? Are you getting the stuff needed and suuuch~? If not, trust in me, your!.. Master, was it? Yes, trust in me, your Master, to find the stuff!"

Kullervo was in a bad mood. He had only been brought back to the mortal realm a few days ago and already he couldn't stand the smell. He had nothing but contempt for the modern people. He hated how they lived comfortably never having to worry about rocks in their bread.

He had decided to follow his team's Archer to the mining outpost on the outskirts of town. He wanted something to slice up, though he wasn't ready to show his hand just yet. Although Kullervo was no master tactician he had conducted war before and found it better to not give the enemy too much information. So that's why he was here, arms crossed and leaning against the base of the telegram tower his fellow servant had perched on top of.

Philoctetes, eh? Another victim of cruel misfortune.

He didn't think much of his teammate. Oh sure, he was powerful and would have no problem dispatching foes from afar, but that was the extent of his opinion. Kullervo wasn't here to make friends. Actually none of the servants were, but Kullervo himself was particularly fixated on the magical wish granting device. Why? He himself wasn't even sure.

He picked his sword up and started running his one taloned hand up and down its edge. He admired the weapon's craftsmanship, the kind of weapon that could only be forged by a god.

It thirsts...

Exhaling out of boredom he looked up at his companion.

"Find anything worthy killing yet?"

---

The room Caster was in had originally been a spacious, secluded study room on the second floor of the manor. The expensive furniture spoke of wealthy owners and had once threatened to make every person with working nostrils devolve into a sneezing storm once the heavy coats of dust were lifted by the slightest breezes of air. Now? It stood as something closer to an egyptian aficionado's personal pet project. Caster had made plenty of use of the other Masters and Servants help to clutter the hallway with some of the room's content and had immediately gotten to work into making it the cornerstone of her works. The largest desk was tucked near the back wall, in front of a large, drawn depiction of Seth was hanged from. It was a tall order to expect a backwater American city to have a statue of Seth laying around, but that'd have to do for the time being.

Of course, this hadn't been her first course of action during the war. Caster had taken quite the active part in setting up a Boundary Field around the mansion alongside some of the other Masters, and had taken an extra step to set a secondary one on her personal workshop just in case, one that'd diminish and mask the tell-tale signs of egyptian magecraft. After all, Caster was in the tricky situation of having a Master uninitiated in the world of Magi. In a way, this was a good thing: she couldn't stand uppity modern Magi who treated her as nothing but a lowly familiar. That was just denigrating. On the other hand, there were just too many things that this girl didn't know, to the point that a good deal of the conversations she had with Emily could be summarized as Caster trying to cover the basics of what a Holy Grail War entailed, what a Servant was, what Command Spells were for and that, yes, those jackal ears were very real.

At least she wanted to be helpful, and she could appreciate it. "Oh, Master!" said Caster with a friendly tone of voice and a smile that'd sharks kill for. "I was finishing preparing my temple, and was about to work on some My--errr... Magic cloaks". It was an inaccurate term by quite a lot, but Emily's enthusiastic nature and happy-go-lucky attitude meant that she'd have to dwelve in lots and lots of explanations for every word she used. "And you shouldn't be going out, Master, not without me or another magus of our faction that can help protect you. You'll get to see aaaaall of those Heroic Spirits in the morning, hmmm? Meanwhile, would you be a darling and make tea or something? I need to think about what I should do about you". Caster went and gave Emily a little pap on the cheek. Even while the svelte, petite Servant stood a good couple of inches shorter than the archeologist, ears not accounted for, Caster felt less like a familiar and more like a nanny.

This was gonna be a difficult war.

"So the great hero of myth is unwilling to take a risk."

The voice in the Black Archer's head did not speak in anger, nor even irritation. It could have been an earnest impression or a sarcastic barb; Alba's childike intonations were so dry and dispassionate that it was often hard to tell what she was trying to convey. It hadn't helped that she'd been on her own for most of the last hundred years, and was severely out of practice when it came to speaking with others.

"These are not your Argonauts, Archer. Our so-called faction cannot be trusted, nor can it be relied upon. Child mages without an inkling of experience, a menagerie of zealots and madmen plucked from history: you think that this rabble can hold against a competent and unified enemy?"

A pause. She gave him a moment to consider her words, and at the same time considered them herself. In truth, she didn't particularly mind letting her Archer follow his own course of action; a warrior like him knew battle more intimately than a mage ever could. On the other hand, he had been raised in the shadow of heroes bound together by strong leadership and united in purpose, which was a far cry from their current situation. His history colored his perceptions, and that was a flaw she aimed to counterbalance.

"If you will not draw the enemy's attention, then take care to protect the Servants of Black. I've little confidence in them surviving an assault nearly so well as you would."

In the cold house with its dead hearth, the lady in white unclasped her hands. Raising one arm, she snapped her fingers, unleashing a sharp crack that echoed through the darkened rooms.

In its wake came a growing rustle, as small, dark shapes shook themselves into motion. Like a swarm of rats, they scuttled downwards, crawling between floorboards and into the basement. There were tunnels there, small burrows dug by familiars and small golems over the past week, leading far away from Alba's workshop. Down and down the many holes the shadows crawled, until they eventually emerged into the rain, spreading sharp wings and thin as wafers and taking flight. To any unsuspecting passerby, they would seem like nothing more than a flock of bats, fluttering about in the dark.

To a mage, however, they were death on the wind, a host of tiny killers and spies streaking south in search of their prey.

The head of the brunette excitably nodded along to the words of Caster, whether she grasped the meaning of it or not. She still struggled greatly with understanding that magic as a concept even existed in this world, despite never having ruled the idea out of her mind in times past, yet to now be so up-close to it all. It felt...like thorough, archeological breakthrough! "Magic cloaks, huuuh...? What'd they do?" Curious like a cat, she pranced forward to stand beside her Servant, eyes shimmering while gazing over the oddities of the objects around. From the strange cloth about to the various tools and magecrafts. She fancied those that sparkled the most, though there was none that could deny how obvious that truly was. Atleast it appeared her Servant was more than happy to show her the ropes around all of this, and she couldn't truly be happier with who she'd summoned either. Apepi of Hyksos, the False Prophet. Both the contract and her visions had confirmed that it was indeed the very person she was studying previously.

"Humm... But I wanna see them! Be them scary, evil, brutal! Or energetic, happy, courageous! I don't mind either way~" She chimed out back, as if her very tone struggled to find a consistent tune, caught in flux between excited chatter and song. With a twirl on her foot, a theatric display of disappointment with puffed up cheeks that immediately felt the wrath of a pat before breaking out into a wide grin. "But finefine~ Safety first! Make sure all equipment is ready before one braves the mighty catacombs, flashlight, rope and snacks~ I'll get us some tea then~" With that, she added in another of her trademark pirouettes, only to start tapping her way out of the room.

Truthfully, the mansion they had commandeered for the war was rather solemn and, to a certain degree, hollow in nature. The creeping feeling of loneliness weighed down on the shoulders of the spelunker within the massive halls, held up by arched roofing a good couple feet above her head. It was a marvelous structure, she did concede, though the size seemed so impractical! Especially for one used to encumbersome tunnels or open space. The dimlit journey from Caster's room to the kitchen was luckily not a long one, and she swiftly found her way inside. With a flick of a switch, and the kitchen area was brightly lit; so much so Emily found herself blinking a couple times to adjust proper. "So then~! Teaa~ Hum, where did I place my Yorkshire Tea bags... oh, there!" With a few prancing steps, she came up to one of the shelves, reaching out before picking up her tea of choice. Naturally, she had all but forgotten if she ever did ask Caster for her preferences, but she'd yet to hear any complaints.

With the drink fully prepared, filled up into a pot and placed upon a tray with a pair of cups, she came strolling back towards Caster's room. Some might feel emasculated to be left to maidly duties for one's Servant, but Emily was not one of them. She didn't want to think of Caster as a Servant, and more as a friend after all. Being friend with a Heroic Spirit sounds fun, and truthfully her journeys otherwise had left her in an utter lack of companionship of any sorts. So, bringing tea to a friend is just a nice gesture, and that's a good thing! Besides, Caster did ask for it, so there's that too. "Knock knooock~ Tea service has arrived~" she chattered out through a helpless giggle, despite actually already having entered the room again.

---

A magecraft originating from Scandinavia, Runes had been first created by the god Odin. These "originals" were aptly known as "Primeval Runes", and the power they boasted was nothing to sneeze at. Then there were the old runes, which were the descendants of these originals. Then from the old runes had come modern runes. Ultimately this magecraft had been watered down to a mere shadow of what had once been, a comparably tiny spark igniting a joint...at least as compared to the light of that great bonfire of its origins.

With this in mind, many had sought to "link the fire" that was that old tradition and bring it back. They sought to reclaim what had once been lost, eve a thamaturgical system founded by a god. Yet especially for those among his ancestors, this very dream had been so very long-sought after that their very existence was invested into it with a sincere earnest. Financial capital, diplomatic clout, precious time, and so much more blood, sweat, and tears had been spilt in order to actualize something that seemed to be a goal line that remained ever so distant.

Then that dream had been colored later on by the temptation of touching 「 」...just as so many other magi aspired to. Truth. Knowledge and power untold. Then that had led to now in turn.

It was too late to back down now, though it wasn't like he intended to either. All of this work would become something, mean something, and he would ensure that would be the case going onwards.

"Hmm..."

Yet it was almost karmic, in a sense, how he'd turned out. Just like his grandfather and a small scattering of past family heads in turn. So far from the normal path of a magus, and yet still treading forward upon it with a sense of sheer impunity and an abnormal savviness of the times. He still blamed himself in part for how he'd become after being sent 'there', really, but there was no changing the past either. It at times made him want to laugh aloud, which had admittedly scared his attendants once or twice before, as if wondering that this was all some joke of a grand design. Or, perhaps, was it fate?

Yet the words of his father only seemed to ring in his ears.

"Hahaha! Yes, the path of a Magus is one that we have trod for many a generation. All abilities, all efforts, all assets, everything and one's self devoted to finding 'Truth' and knowing it.

..But then I look at my own life. None ever thought I, of all my father's children, would come to amount to anything as a mage. Seemingly hundreds of years of labor gone to waste, some cursing my name as a byword by the time my education was done, and yet in the end I grasped the reins and furthered our dream more than my father could have possibly imagined.

All because I came to continue seeking out that far-flung dream through a somewhat different lens."

Standing before his bedroom window, dressed in a high-class black suit and matching tie, the man simply stared outwards into the sky and upon the German landscape with an almost empty gaze. A lit cigar sat in his right hand, clutched tightly but gingerly to not drop it as a thin trail of wispy smoke coiled up into air from its softly-glowing tip.

"Hmph. You did always have a way with words in some fashion, father, but more so a way with what you aimed for and achieved. Multiple new acquisitions and duplicates, a veritable treasure trove of knowledge and progress that I can scarcely imagine doing myself. We've come so much closer to 'It', and yet..."

Sighing, the man pulled his hand up and took another long drag on his cigar.

"The boy has made a mockery of our name, some say, a 'schweinhund' that doesn't deserve the crest. I'd already written out the groundwork plans to take Hansel in for training, a replacement I had hoped wouldn't be needed years ago...and yet I stopped there. I stopped there and found myself pausing recalling your words, and the damn stupid things you did, and how much was accomplished, and I just stopped.

Hell, kinda off already starting off like you said you did. For one thing, he finally re-acquired 'that' old journal your great-grandfather lost all those years ago. Something about a 'eBay' or whatever? Bah.

...Even so, what's in that old journal has been vastly more than simply promising. It's the treasure trove you spoke of back then. A veritable miracle for the future, especially after how that journal got lost in the first place, which even I can't fully process the contents of in my lifetime."

Another long sigh came out from between the man's lips, though at the same time the corners of his mouth began to turn upwards.

"A bunch of damned fools all of you, scattered like landmines on our family, laughed at, and yet you moved it all forward every single time. So I'll let him keep going, since he's been working on it anyways, and see if the fool of a boy really becomes the next 'you'.

If not, well, I won't hesitate in pulling the trigger myself and taking our Crest back. That I promise you. I won't be succeeded by a failure. Our work will not go to waste."

---

Whenever Isaac would potentially and finally make it to the Main Room, he would at least find a certain German magus sitting in a chair next to the coffee table. Donning very casual clothes and wielding a magecraft-treated metal instrument in his hand, he was seemingly etching runes into a set of stones that sat in front of him on the polished wood. A look of laser-focused concentration seemed to be on his face as he worked, however, and already visible was a small set of roughly ten rune-inscribed rocks were placed nearby on the table as well.

However, he without a doubt still smelled like a joint...at least after what he'd done earlier that day.

"Was wondering when you'd arrive. Archer seen if everyone else is in position so far? Any sight of enemy movement yet?"

Johann spoke to his fellow Master without batting an eye at him, much less even take the moment to look up, as he seemingly finished off and set aside his latest rune.

It was one thing when he'd hotboxed his attic-space workshop earlier after arrival, mostly to get himself high and able to focus himself more on the preparations at hand. The obvious complaints were obvious in their own way, when it came to a bunch of stuffy mages and odd types around him, but that hadn't phased him either. People tended to focus on the changes in his attitude at the Clock Tower, if they knew of his existence, and bluntly speaking many had just assumed the worst.

Still, none of his classes had complained about his getting work done. None of his teachers saw an issue with handing in assignments or projects or the ilk...frankly the opposite. Even his father hadn't complained about his continued work ethic, at least, after he'd sent him that journal he'd found online. Sure he got high and was more laid-back than before, but hell wasn't it stressful enough to be a mage anyways? He had to focus on his work, not kill himself over it and waste 900 years of progress. Flat had the right idea with keepin' it cool, at least, and to him that was good and all. But he still had a serious ethic in regards to his work that still resonated very true even now.

Then again, having people think less of you than get stuck in the sight-blocking brown-nosing some did was better in his eyes. He didn't mind if they hated him, because he did his own thing and he continued his work as a Magus. He'd never forgotten about the path, he'd just taken a slightly different but still-serious approach. Didn't have to keep a stick-up-the-ass to be a mage, right?

Though in the meantime-

'Hey Lancer, are you seeing anything suspicious around here? Archer's master is just walkin' in, so maybe we'll get to move out soon. Will keep ya' posted as I learn more.

..Though, ah, do please tell me if ya' ever see a stressed out British man and some girl in a gray hood walking around.'

Thanks to Flat for letting him know Teach had left as well. He'd wondered what would happen after sending that letter to tell him what was going on. Not like he could just hide it if he just disappeared, so better to just 'pull the band-aid off' in his mind and let his favorite instructor know anyways.

@ColourlessKing@Anza

“I see…”

She saw the moon shining down on a red gazebo, half-shrouded in mist. A flock of winged hounds flew overhead, barking in terror as a cat leapt from a nearby tree and snagged one in its jaws. In the distance loomed a tower made of bones, rising up out of a bottomless black abyss, where twin pairs of glowing eyes stared out from the shadows like tigers waiting in the night.

“…I see nothing that would threaten us at present, Master.”

Lancer opened her eyes, watching the oracle bone crack and crumble between her fingers. The spirits were lively tonight, excited into a frenzy by the coming conflict. A good omen, she thought. They would have their blood soon, and plenty of it.

With a smile, she leaned back against the roof of the Red faction’s manor, savoring the feeling of cold raindrops shattering against her skin. It was pleasant, being alive again. Even if it wasn’t quite the same ‘her’ as it had been before. Perhaps she was nothing more than an echo, but even this echo had a purpose of her own: enemies to slaughter, allies to lead, a Master to whom she could devote herself.

”You may tell the Master of Archer this: there is a strange presence waiting in the open gardens not far from here.” That boy had seemed so weak at first, but she’d taken a liking to him since her summoning. Letting him be the one to convey her prophecies would elevate his status among the Masters of their faction, perhaps even raise him up as a leader. ”And be wary of the mine up in the mountains, where a tall tower rises from the earth. The night there is stained with Black.”

A part of her itched to go there and seek out the darkness herself, but she calmed her mind, easing the tension slowly out of her muscles. There would be plenty of opportunities for her to fight in this war regardless, and she was curious what her Master would do with the knowledge she’d given him.

---

"Do as you please Archer, as long as you abide by our agreed terms. Although I must say finding out how skewed the information regarding the sex of Heroic Spirits is quite astonishing."

The voice in Atlanta's head was filled with childish interest at the remark, being quite the literary and mythological fan. Isaac was quite proud of having summoned an Argonaut even though he acted indifferent in front of the others. But hearing anecdotes from one was making bottling up such unnecessary feelings a challenge. A few questions already gracing Isaac's mind, before being immediately discarded in order to act like a proper master after hearing of her report. His mind going through a memory check of their current defenses as he finally reached the hallway to the main room. Isaac knew they currently had a decent number of bounded fields and traps scattered around the area, quite capable of eliminating any familiars once they get close enough to the manor, but having the enemy know their location at the first skirmish was something that can easily be considered a loss.

"Seeing as you already shot one, please eliminate all remaining familiars and change positions before the enemy can pinpoint the origin of your shots. I'll keep you posted on any developments in my end."

With that simple request sent through the link, Isaac finally arrived in the main room. His ally Johann Wald was disappointingly still reeking of his "Medicine" again, something that bothered him more greatly than his underclassman's habit. With sigh Isaac sat down on the nearest chair, performing a few gestures to his automaton as it went into the kitchen to fetch him some tea.

"The enemy has sent a swarm of their own familiars to downtown, Archer is currently disposing them as we speak."

Isaac conveyed the new found information to his underclassman, as his golem came back with a tray of tea and chips. Marigold gently placing it down in front of them as he continued to speak. The golem placing his cup in front of him, the pleasant aroma blocking Johann's stench.

"Currently their hasn't been any sign of their servants, although that will likely change in a few seconds given that Archer has begun firing on their familiars. Considering all this I think, we should send out our own familiars with Lancer following behind to see if we can either draw out their servants or find their base."

Finishing his assessment Isaac quietly drank from his cup, the pleasant warmth and taste of his tea finally letting his mind relax as he he awaited his underclassman's reply.
@Crusader Lord @KoL

America.

What an annoying coincidence that the one place he had thought about visiting for a relaxing vacation and wasting all his money was the first place he had been made to send out to participate in this Holy Grail War. The very concept of using legendary heroes to achieve a personal goal was odd, but nonetheless interesting and even if he had at first objected in the end he realised, he could accomplish some great things with this opportunity. He had arrived around few days ago and had promptly arrived at his base with his fellow Masters, summoning his Servant after setting himself up in the top floor room.

It was a good set up, his workshop was methodically organised, shelves of his ingredients and components covered the walls and in the centre of the room a large cauldron, Jeremiah himself sat on a chari before his desk that was pristine and only had his books and writings on it by the sides, his flasks and chemistry equipment were his main iterest, mixing some materials together as he worked on one of his usual explosive concoctions. He sat back in his chair and adjusted his glasses.

His new allies were interesting to say the least, and whilst he wasn't hostile to them he didn't interact with them as much as he should have. He would go down later to discuss strategy with them, but sometimes not sharing information could prove more essential. Assassin of Black could be anywhere, just like his. If information got leaked, having him not be in collaboration would mean that his information could not be stolen.

Assassin had been an interesting summon and he respected him. His reputation was impressive and a good match for him, himself being from a family of magus assassins. Now, to allow Assassin to do his work.

He had set Assassin out to scout the surrounding area and hummed before contacting him telepathically.

"Assassin, have you ensured the safety of the surrounding area? Make sure you keep yourself concealed and try to locate any enemy servants, I can hear the others discussing familliars, I'd advise going north and keeping an eye on our allied Servants, if they encounter any trouble, perhaps you can take them by the surprise and hit them with an effective flank attack, keep me updated on the surrounding events, after we can figure out the true names of the enemy, we can pinpoint their weaknesses."

He sighed and finished off his concoction. Perhaps now would be a good time to discuss tactics with his allies.

@ColourlessKing

"Come now master, don't say that." Philoctetes sighed. The way he said that was rather playful, as he didn't really take it personally. "I prefer if you think of it more as... Being cautious. I survived for as long as I did because I knew what risks I wanted to take." He had at a few points had to rely on spying and patience, when dealing with certain foes. One of the monsters Hera had sent for him had been invisible after all. A real menace of a beast. He'd had to track it based on the droplets of blood it left behind after devouring a boar.

It was true though, he had grown up in the shadows of heroes. Argonauts, strong, bold... And he had been a child. The most impressionable age. Eager to see the feats of heroes, and even now he adored heroes. Perhaps he never really thought of himself as one? Of course not, he was a survivor. A fighter. A hero would slay the gorgon and free the people there. He was the opposite. A man who would have killed the gorgon because it was life or death. Even his arrival at Troy had been because of a vow he made, rather than a desire to go fight. He was an argonaut, but was he a hero?

He'd find that answer here in this war.

His eyes though focused on his master's familiars. His eyes narrowed to focus on them, trying to ignore Saber down below. "Nothing yet, Saber." He said, teeth touching to his lip. He was focused, but even he almost ran the risk of missing what happened next. He watched an arrow pierce one of the bats, and if he weren't the great archer he was, he might have missed it. Worse, he might not have seen where it was fired from. But seeing the bat jerk, he was already calculating the distance, direction, strength. An impressive shot. "Actually, found something."

He raised his bow. He notched his arrow. He pulled the arrow back, taking aim, and fired. Once, twice, three, four arrows. Each sailed through the air, all aimed at what he could assume to be the origin point of that arrow. Another Archer.

The first arrow went wider. Hitting not Atalanta, but rather the cellphone tower she had perched upon. The metal bent and twisted from the force of the impact, but the other three had far better aim. One arrow aimed at her neck, one at her shoulder, and the final at her heel. A good enough spread of arrows if there ever was one.

"I got something. Residental area, cellphone tower." Philoctetes said to Saber. "With luck, they can't shoot back, but I don't think we're that lucky."

@KoL@ItMeGritty@Anza

---

“Haaaai... Taicho!”

Came Gensai's lax but enthusiastic response, as he jumped from rooftop to rooftop. Gensai couldn't help but enjoy the new perks being summoned as a servant got him. Never did the Manslayer think he would be able to move as well as a Koga Shinobi nor be able to jump from each roof with a little sound or ounces of dust being displaced most of it already hidden by the rain. Even after the grail had uploaded him with all this knowledge of his abilities and the situation, experiencing this second life was something he was enjoying quite immensely as he silently landed on a lamp post a fair distance away from where Rider was trotting, Archer from what he can tell just shot a swarm of bats that flew pass him mid jump, his form very presence hidden by his skill and the rain.


“Hehehe. You know Taichou, being a servant feels great! If I had these abilities we probably wouldn't have loss so badly against the Shinsengumi. But I digress Neko-chan is currently shooting at some bats and Rider still hasn't encountered anyone judging by how quiet it is, I'll go scout out the north-”

Gensai's words were cut off as he saw a speeding projectile fly pass him towards where Archer was positioned, his Eye of The Mind (True) quickly activating as he began to deduce all the possible nests for the enemy archer to hide, seeing as 2 more come for his ally he properly deduced their location being near the mountains. Upon seeing Archer's return fire. Gensai let out a sigh of relief as she probably deflected or avoided the attacks. With combat imminent Gensai moved quickly as the battle between the archers began, quietly leaping from the lamp post to avoid getting shot by a deflected arrow.

"Taichou! The enemy Archer has just attacked our Archer from the Mountains. I shall go and warn Rider of the danger, the chances that the enemy's allies are near them is high. Archer is holding her own from what I gathered, I would only get in the way if I interfered in their battle.”

The Manslayer's words were suddenly devoid of all warmth, Gensai's skill having activated after realizing that combat had started. His experience dictating his decisions and imploring the man to get serious. The Assassin quickly began running through the streets at a break neck pace when his feet touched the ground his body disappearing as he went into his spirit form, his steps still not leaving a sound or trace as the drizzle covered his tracks while he traveled through the alleys. Considering how critical masters were in this war, Gensai could easily see Rider's combat efficiency would be impaired if she had to protect her master from such enemies his assistance would be needed if they were to encounter more than one.

@Scallop

Atalanta's arrows struck several flying shadows out of the air, shattering them into hundreds of tiny black shards. Not quite bats after all, but winged obsidian golems, though they had certainly looked lifelike enough until their untimely destruction.

The remaining constructs immediately scattered, fanning out over a wide area and diving between buildings to make themselves harder to hit. Alba was going for a scattershot approach, now: she couldn't know where the enemy's Servants or workshops actually were, but by separating her familiars and methodically combing through the streets she would inevitably begin to find them. Archer of Red's attack had likely been meant to distract her and divert her attention, but Alba wasn't going to fall for that one. It didn't matter how many golems she lost; information was a far more valuable resource than mere disposable familiars.

Her mental landscape branched out into ten separate streams of thought, most controlling pairs of golems while one compiled their separate observations and mentally filled in a map of the area. It wouldn't be long before Rider of Red and Maeve Dóeltenga would spy a small shadow passing overhead, circling at first and then diving straight towards them.

"I've found them," Alba sent to her Servant, with a hint of grim satisfaction. The drain on her mana had tangibly intensified, which could only mean that he'd found and engaged his counterpart. In the meantime, that left her with another unoccupied enemy Servant on the field... and their Master. She'd no idea what that girl thought she was doing out there, but such a blatant opportunity was not to be missed.

Her pale fingers splayed open, and a long ivory knife flew across the room into her hand. Time to wipe a player off the board.

Berserker moved from building to building, her surge forward was quick and without hesitation. There was no thought, only the target was in mind...

That store. The Candy Store.

It had caught Berserker's eye as she had been scanning the streets from a rooftop which she had previously been sulking on. The Ruler of this war had said things like 'No unnecessary casualties or damage' something like 'fight with honor'. Rules to keep the order of the war. There was no ill feelings towards Ruler. But to go against one's nature was not so easy a thing. Especially when one did not wish nor care to. Berserker was as they always were. If they saw a group of humans walking by... What they would do does not need to be said.

But again there is no ill will felt towards Ruler. Their wishes are kept somewhat in mind although mostly disregarded. Well, there is no need for Ruler to fret, Berserker has found their pray...

---

CRUNCH. CRUNCH. CRUNCH.
Hard candies are thrown into the mouth and broken by the teeth of Berserker. There is no savoring of the taste, they are consumed in a frustrated manner. Although fleeting, their taste is adored. A distraction, this seemed to be what this was. Well if that is the case. Berserker could be considered distracted.

Berserker made no effort to be polite about it, stands were knocked over, drawers taken out, sweets and chocolate and all sorts of sugary stuff strewn across the floor. Let the humans clean up the mess sometimes. Anyway all of those discarded treats that had been sampled were not really on Berserker's mind much right now.

She continued to chew away at the multicolored spheres. Gobstoppers, Jawbreakers, those were what the labels said. Well Berserker certainly felt no resistance as she scoffed them down.

But then...

There was one.

Only one left already. Berserker looked at it. She began to search the store to see if there was any others hiding around. There wasn't... There was plenty of other candies, but those did not interest her right now. She held a single red gobstopper in her fingers.

She sort of wanted to just eat it... But then there really would have been no more...

There was a thought. Caster...

---

Berserker moved from building to building in quick succession. A focused surge towards her destination. It did not take her long to arrive there at all. Good, for she did not feel patient tonight. Well since she was summoned she had not felt patient at all, not at all...

She entered the place that Caster had made his own. It seemed to be very low profile, a place of quiet and healing or something along those lines. Well without a regard for any of that Berserker trudged in holding up the red gobstopper once more between her fingers. She did not bother to make herself known until she was there right in the room with him. Well he probably knew she was there as soon as she stepped foot in the place.

"Caster. Make more of these?" A mix between a question and a demand spoken in simple words with a deadpan face. Perhaps there was a bit of a threat in there but then again... Even if they were on the same 'team' some might say her mere presence was always that of a threat...

@Reflection