Çanakkale - A small city in Turkey. Located on the southern coast of the Dardenelles, at the narrowest point. Its opposite, across the strait, is a smaller town by the name of Kilitbahir.
Blue Team Base - Hektor Bahadir’s mansion at the West side of Çanakkale. Located on a fallen Leyline.
Red Team Base - A hotel on the East side of Çanakkale. Located on a fallen Leyline.
The Great Holy Grail war. Seven heroes of Red. Seven heroes of Blue. And the fools who summoned them.
An imitation of Troy, that battleground of the demigods. But none of them can truly understand the hell they have unleashed. None of them fought on those beaches, for those gates. None understand the true tragedy that the Gods unleashed against those shining heroes.
Who will destroy? Who will be destroyed?
Who will break free of the fate that has been ordained? Who will be drowned in despair?
Blue Team Base
Hektor stood in his study, facing a large window, arms folded behind his back. The time had finally come. It felt like he had been waiting for aeons, and yet he could have made use of so much more time. Even now, at the eve of the war, he could only afford a moment away from the work, just to take a small glimpse at the summoning.
The window overlooked the courtyard, the place where the team had summoned their Servants. It was a strange-looking bunch, Masters and Servants alike. Some of them hardly Magi, some of them hardly human. But none of that mattered. They were here, and the success of the ritual was up to them. It was too late to worry whether they could do it. The die was cast.
Seeing the servants, Hektor’s heart panged. He was taken back, mentally, to all those years ago. Recalling his own partner, he briefly smiled. But that was the only thing worth remembering fondly - those torturous hyenas, that disgusting worm-man vampire, and the horrifying woman summoned by the Einzberns - the rest of it was a black hole of fear. Though he needed to supervise the Grail, to make sure the ritual could succeed - perhaps that was partially an excuse. He had no desire to go through that hell again.
The group’s opponents had already arrived, but they, too, were a necessary part. This was to be a war between heroes, after all. Those who were doomed, and those who were chosen by fate. But perhaps, here, fate could be overturned.
If only he had been able to prepare more, but understanding the Grail alone had taken so long, let alone integrating it into his own systems. Giving a brief hand signal to the group below, all the acknowledgement they required, before turning away from the window. Perhaps he would never see any of them again.
Road to Çanakkale
A helmeted man in black rode his brown horse slowly across the Turkish countryside, the sun acting as a beacon for his destination, and the sea remaining by his side. The trip was a mostly quiet and uneventful one. Of course, given the circumstances, such a slow journey was required, if not needed. The rider woefully possessed only a modest proficiency in horseback riding. Still, he did not want to be cooped up in a crowded bus, nor did he desire to be driven here by someone else. In life, he was a skilled rider, and his mother even told him so!
It was a shame that the Ruler class did not possess the “Riding” skill.
“Ah, I’m running a bit late, it seems…” Ruler sighed, disappointed at his lack of promptness. The war probably already started by now! It was a bit annoying that he was summoned in Istanbul, of all places… Still, it was nice to visit that city once more. It was nice to see that such a place was properly maintained even now. It didn’t help that Istanbul and the destination of the Holy Grail War were on two opposing sides of a bay. Perhaps taking a boat would have been the more responsible choice? Ruler began to ruminate on the idea, before chuckling to himself moments after. Riding a boat to Troy is possibly the worst thing to do, after all!
One of the very basics tenets of ninjitsu was to remain concealed. The hawk may see all, but in turn all can see the hawk in flight. The group of sparrows may be visible, but none truly see the sparrow for the group.
Hanzo had not left her Master's side, having been there ever since her summoning, but that did not mean she had neglected her duties. A web of intrigue had already been woven across this city, as sparrows flying over a field. With more time, she could even integrate the web into the city completely. A flitting shadow passed her, Hanzo flicking her eyes momentarily at it before addressing her Master.
"Everything is going well, Master. Soon, the Iga clan's prowess would be indisputable. That is, if they could even find us."
Yao Ying Xi, Her room in the mansion
"Aaaah... this is bad, all so very bad..."
She moved almost in a frenzy, cleaning up as well as reorganizing her room. Why would her bed be facing the door? That's just asking for a demon to come in and harass her. The flow of energy wasn't great at all, there wasn't even a corner for the little fortune table she was going to put all the knick knacks on. Even her medicines were going to go bad at this rate. Wait, was these her silver bowls? She almost forgot about those.
"Saber! Saaaber!" Ying Xi started waving the bowls around. "Can you take this to anywhere that isn't so tangled up? I'll look over them later. Ah that's right, careful on your way out too."
Perhaps she should redecorate the entire mansion? It seemed a lost cause when nothing was made to flow right, but she can at least do the best she could. Some good food would be needed too. Whatever these people were eating, it surely can't beat a millennia of Chinese culinary history.
Late afternoon - the bright sun, the constant low roar of people and vehicles in the streets. The hotel's front door stood wide open, letting the cool fall air circulate freely through the lobby. Even with this much town between himself and the coast, Rockwell thought he seemed to smell a hint of ocean air. . . Oh, probably not. He was fooling himself, doubtless.
He'd snagged a small table and chair from the cafe next door and set them beside the entrance, the better to keep an eye on everyone going in and out while he smoked. His summoner was back in the hotel, hidden away in a room upstairs - which seemed a touch over-cautious when the fighting hadn't even really started yet, but Rockwell wasn't minded to criticize. It just meant he might have a freer hand.
He tipped his head back and blew a thick stream of smoke up to waft away into the clear blue sky, the weight of his tied-back hair swaying against the backrest. He'd get back up to the roof after this cigarette. As far as he knew it wasn't likely that anything would kick off until nightfall, but, well. A man could hope.
She moved almost in a frenzy, cleaning up as well as reorganizing her room. Why would her bed be facing the door? That's just asking for a demon to come in and harass her. The flow of energy wasn't great at all, there wasn't even a corner for the little fortune table she was going to put all the knick knacks on. Even her medicines were going to go bad at this rate. Wait, was these her silver bowls? She almost forgot about those.
"Saber! Saaaber!" Ying Xi started waving the bowls around. "Can you take this to anywhere that isn't so tangled up? I'll look over them later. Ah that's right, careful on your way out too."
Perhaps she should redecorate the entire mansion? It seemed a lost cause when nothing was made to flow right, but she can at least do the best she could. Some good food would be needed too. Whatever these people were eating, it surely can't beat a millennia of Chinese culinary history.
Saber of the Sea Her Master's Room in the Mansion
She couldn't help but watch with slight amusement as her Master flailed around about her room in the mansion, moving things about her room. At a basic level, she understood why she was doing this. The concepts of chi weren't a complete mystery to her, but well... The reaction she was giving just seemed a bit much to her. However, she was the servant, not the master. So she wasn't going to comment, simply just stand there and let her flail. It helped that it was entertaining to watch. Looking at the bowls in question, she took them from Xi and nodded her head once.
"Of course master, I will find a place for them to remain tangle free. Perhaps the courtyard..."
Turning about, she left her master to do her work. It would be best to explore the mansion, see what the layout was like. What if it's attacked? So she set off, the sound of her sandals hitting the ground muffled by the carpet. The silver bowls held delicately in her hands, as she observed the decorations on her way to the courtyard.
Christine Herphae & Thaleia Their room in the hotel
Thaleia let out a small sigh as Christine stomped about their shared room, letting out a large and varied assortment of curses in Greek. She'd been in a... not so great mood ever since summoning Saber. Not that she was mad at Saber, just at the Grail for giving her one of the few servants whose weapon she couldn't study. All those curses were of course, directed at the Grail itself for being a ****ing cheeky piece of **** whose mother was a cheaply made *** bowl. So on and so forth.
The metal woman let out a small sigh and just let her go about her rant, turning and moving to find Saber. At the bare minimum, something could get done today. Christine would eventually run out of steam, and they could focus back on the war.
By the thousands, the sound of fingers typing upon keyboards rang out. By the hundreds, the sounds of pens scribbling across and stamps slamming against printed pages echoed. In the tens, chattered those with phones, landline, and almost glued to their ears of conversations innumerable.
All the sounds of business at peak hours and overtaxed efficiency.
And, in that myriad of noise pollution, was an unassuming woman with her eyes, narrowing into a hard squint, as she proofread a PDF from an email that was tagged with [Urgent] via the priority function, and, furthermore, in bright red, block capitals within the body of the text; centered and double-spaced from the top and bottom, even. Simply sending the email with the "urgent priority" option would have sufficed, but, clearly, that didn't seem good enough for her middle-manager.
Heaving a heavy sigh, Valentina Lupin clicked and typed, clicked and typed, clicked and typed, until she suggested and corrected every glaring error from syntax to grammar; making sure to even annotate the proper usage of a colon and a semicolon, when fusing sentences together. Sure, it was going to result in another write-up for "insubordinate behavior" - a frequent write-up that HR would dismiss on grounds of insufficient evidence of said insubordinate behavior, as her job was to do what she was being written up for - and a very tedious dressing-down, before she could shuffle back to her deck, and open, dollars to doughnuts, the same email, and start a new round of corrections.
Such was life, when you were in hiding.
For you see, Valentina - Valley to her friends - wasn't a normal woman in the slightest, in spite of her plainness and overachieving ability to stand out in no way what-so-ever. No, she was quite peculiar, if you knew her well enough and her heritage.
Valentina Lupin was a Thief, a Phantom Thief; first-born and fourth generation of the ignoble name and disavowed family.
Hers was a bloody past of skulking around and stealing items of incalculable value scoring back nearly a century and a half. Back to the height of Arsene Lupin's change in career that would see his family's name blacked from the Mage Association records, removed from their protection, and, eventually, placed on the list as enemies to be captured, if possible. For most of her adolescence, Valley had refined her trade while staying under the radar, by working as a common burglar and occasional bank thief.
However, this was a miserable existence, as, "A Lupin is destined for greatness," so she was always told as a child, until her father was mercilessly killed before her eyes, and her world was uprooted from a carnival-esque happiness to a mind and soul crushing, nine-to-five at various temporary agencies as a receptionist, proofreader, or other manner of soulless corporate drone, until she cracked from the monotony and ran away to another part of the United Kingdom.
Another name.
Another life.
Another turn on the wheel.
However, this turn was something special. All too suddenly, Valley felt a burn against her right hand; the back of her palm ached for a moment, before it felt like someone was tattooing her. Pausing her work, Valley watched as the tattoo formed, and settled as a thickly outlined, stylized card suit spade in three parts. Confused, Valley maintained her composure, before hearing a whisper in her mind, “The war has begun. Here my call, Master. Find me at Çanakkale. Summon me to your side.” and she felt herself drawn to do just that...
Current Day...
Valley arrived in Çanakkale by way of plane, and touched down without issue. Constantly on the run, Valley was always ready to boogie out, and, by robbing her middle-manager, and pawning his stuff, a plane ticket was no challenge to acquire. In the back of her mind, she could hear the woman, desperate and mewling, as she followed that impulse like a GPS. Eventually, she found herself as one of the first to arrive at a large mansion to face her destiny.
Before she even planned to settled in, she intended to push to free her mind of the third voice that occupied it by summoning her Servant...
West Çanakkale, Mansion's Courtyard Collab with @Enkryption
It was a pleasant surprise when Hektor Bahadir turned out to be a most gracious host. The trip to Turkey would have been well worth it just to speak to the man alone, to learn whatever the man would teach, and yet he'd offered his home to Farren. Further, he'd given Farren a very unique opportunity.
I'm getting quite the chill of anticipation, the Irishman thought to himself as he watched the others in his "team" go about summoning the thralls they would command to battle. Teams and servants... war and wishes... that little competition to seize a grail, inflated to twice it's size. It was dramatic; maybe even a little romantic. When Farren first caught wind of the Bahadir's plans, he thought it would not only be interesting, but invaluable to get up close and study the phenomenon. Taking part in it himself though, well...
First hand accounts make excellent resources. That being said, Farren had never been part of any true battle, large or small. Hell, he'd never even bothered with familiars beyond the spiders he personally cultivated. He'd studied up on mundane wars, their flimsy reasoning and results. He'd visited the sites of battles between magi, brief and bloody. He knew the process of summoning a heroic spirit, or the servant that passed as one at least, and even if he was a complete stranger to it, there were perfectly good examples right in front of him. Some of their team, dubbed "blue," had summoned early. Others like himself were collected there in the courtyard, summoning the last of their classes.
Farren blinked down at his circle. It was perfect. Textbook. He'd drawn it slowly and leisurely, not in any rush despite being one of the last of their team to perform the ritual. He'd taken a lap around the manor, checking up on his precious arachnids and the webs they'd woven around the base. While technically he had no need to physically visit the nests, it was nice to do so every now and then. Of course, his familiars were spread in the courtyard as well, sitting comfortable in the dark corners where grass met stone. It would have been cute if the spiders were curious or eager to meet their future companion, a familiar on a different scale from them yet contracted to Farren all the same, but alas. They were perfectly bred to weave, scribe, and breed. Beyond their master's instruction, they were little more than animals.
"Well, I ought not stall anymore," Farren chuckled to the courtyard group at large. "It's been enlightening to see the ritual. Now to try it for myself. Sláinte."
Farren raised a few fingers to his forehead, a dismissive salute to the blue team before he closed his eyes and inhaled. He channeled mana through the circle before him, recited the spell, and in the back of his mind he idly wondered what kind of servant would answer his summons.
"Come forth."
There was a skittering that crawled through Farren’s mind, like an army -- no, a sea -- of spiders. From his control, the spiders that were task to serve him were ripped away, and they drew to the circle, as they crept into the circle, and, en masse, weaved from the floor to the ceiling to cocoon the entirety of the circle, and fell to the floor in a strange pose that bespoke a sort of... reverence?
Before Farren could truly question anything, there was a glint of silver, as a blade punched through the cocoon. Had he mistakenly summoned a second Sabre, or a Rider, or even a sword-wielding Archer, because Archer Class was full of Archers. In spite of the sword, something told him there was magic beyond his own at play, as the cocoon split open, and splayed out -- in something of nightmare.
Hundreds of thousands of eyes, crimson and beady, stared back at him, before eight opened; uniformly split, two across and four down, in a gentle V, before they closed, two at a time, until only the largest, topmost pair were open. From a dimension beyond him, both them all, the approached with a slow, firmness; the sword drawing ever-closer, until Farren could see the crossguard, and the hilt of the weapon, held firm in an undeniably female hand.
“So, you are the one to summon the Careless Broodmother, the First Spider, she that bested Athena in the art of weaving,” asks a somberly expressions woman with strangely European attire for the credentials she listed, as she lifted her sword high. For a long moment, the air was tense and heavy with the power of persona on display -- before that shattered, as she surged forward, and glomped the Irishman. “Oh! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I’m human again! Centuries of being a spider, and I get to be human again!” she, seemingly, could not have been happier.
Although, she was hugging him with a sword pressed “Danger, Will Robinson!” close to his neck.
"Ah... Your blade..." Sorting his thoughts about the summoning was enough of an ordeal without the looming threat of death at his throat, accidental or not. The powerful shift in his familiars' behavior nearly sent him reeling, even the spiderlings literally in his head were affected. Once he'd calmed them down he was left with his apparently very friendly servant.
“Blade? My blade? Oh, this!?” the woman retreated but one step, and hefted the blade. “It doesn’t cut. No edge,” she confesses, as she held it to his sight. “It’s a tooth -- well, a fang.” Elaborating, she hooked the right side of her mouth, and drew her lips to the side; true to her word, her right upper canine was gone -- evidently, fashioned into the edgeless sword she held. “Shee?” she asks, lips still drawn. “Ah kan eet mah whebs li’k dis.”
The woman before him... she was silly. Even so, she was enchanting. She commanded his attention with just her aura. Despite her antics, she was also darkly beautiful. Was this the power of summoning a servant with no catalyst, one that instead resonated with him?
Farren's eyes moved from her body to the fang to her face. Her goofy face, with a finger hooked into her mouth and saliva threatening to spill out of it.
He snorted, then chuckled into his hand.
Her identity was clear. Even without her little speech upon first exiting out of the cocoon, Farren thought he'd be able to tell. He didn't expect her to be so cute though.
"Say that last part again?" he laughed.
“My webs, I can eat them with this,” says the woman, before turning on her heel, and slicing through the cocoon that she was summoned through. No trace of web remained as she settled at the end of her graceful flurry. “URP!~” she belched, before whirling around on Farren with her cheeks ruddy-red, “Did you hear that?”
There were two answers, and one was CLEARLY the right one...
"Who, me? Of course not." Really, the difference between the woman's appearance and her actions were interesting. Perhaps some men or magi would find them unappealing, but it just made Farren curious. When she'd hugged him she mentioned being human again. He wanted to ask about that, but before that question...
Farren placed a hand over his chest and smiled at his servant. "My name is Farren Mac Rohard. It's my pleasure to make your acquaintance. So, miss First Spider," Farren's single visible eye sparkled as he spoke the title, "You... are Caster, aren't you? I've been told it's safer to call you by your class, but if you have another name in mind I am all ears."
“Miss First Spider... oh, I like that... Miss Spider is much nicer than Caster. Who would wanna be called “Caster” anyways? So bland,” she says. “Farren...” Suspiciously, the woman leaned forward, and her hair cast around her face; darkening it in shadow, and she opened all her eyes in that darkness. “Are you betrothed?”
"Ah... what? Betrothed?" Farren stared at her. His brows furrowed and he searched all the scarlet lights of her many eyes. "Can't say I've ever been asked that. I'm not."
“Good,” Farren would find nothing within, beyond years, all but infinite, of magic and a deep-seated power, before she drew back; shadows gone, and eyes normal. Bashfully, she rubbed her left forearm, as she murmured, “I don't want to share my human, is all.”
'My human', hm? Farren tilted his head curiously. How intriguing it was, the way his servant's mind must work. Both human and animal.
"Of course." As Caster - Arachne - moved away, Farren spread his arms out to finish up his welcome. "I am your master I suppose, and I am also your human." The man turned the back of his hand outward, showing off the crimson symbols emblazoned there. "Proof of the threads that weave us together."
There was a hint of warm humor in his voice when he next spoke. "Honestly Miss Spider, I don't mind if you continue to call me Farren. That whole master-servant relationship is a bit stuffy for me. I'd prefer to get to know you a little more personally. We'll be as partners here on the ah... I believe we've been designated the 'blue team.' "
“Very well, Master Farren,” Miss Spider says, keeping her True Name to herself. Even if Farren could suss it out, as long as it wasn’t asked for, she would keep to her new moniker. “Pray tell, what do you need to know about me for this... blue team...?”
"Oh there's a lot I'd love to know about you," Farren replied suavely. "And I hope you'll share with me soon. For the team however, I suppose it would be strengths, weakness, that sort of thing."
He glanced over at the few others gathered in the courtyard, the first time he'd looked away from Caster since she'd manifested. "It will help to get to know everyone, but we can discuss it privately if you like."
“If you feel that is necessary, Master Farren,” Miss Spider says, her expression returning to that somber beauty, as if something unknown was bothering her immensely, but she was too shy to speak of it. “We may do so immediately, if preferred.”
The area around Farren's eyes crinkled as Caster's face transformed. Ah, the wistful look of a maiden now.
"I'm in no rush," he told her. "You mentioned something about being human again. Why don't you take some time to get used to it again first. I can show you around, introduce you too."
“Oh? I would appreciate that,” Miss Spider says, “That sounds much more enjoyable than not.”
In truth, she hadn't expected to have summoned an Assassin originating from her homeland when she'd conducted the ritual. All Rumi had known was that she would work best with that specific Class, and that she'd likely be better off trusting in what the Grail determined was most compatible with her rather than attempting to secure a specific catalyst.
Still, Hattori Hanzo was an interesting one. Especially with that Noble Phantasm of hers. And that a seemingly male shinobi from the Sengoku period was actually a woman. Perhaps that meant the fringe theory that Uesugi Kenshin had been female as well wasn't quite such a fringe theory after all. But there were more practical concerns to be had at the moment. An information network set up around the city already? Rumi nodded her appreciation at the woman.
"Excellent work, Assassin. Though I've been wondering while you've been gone. I don't intend to simply sit back and do nothing throughout this War. Is it possible to integrate my undead servitors with your Noble Phantasm's information network? With your abilities, we could rapidly deploy scores of reinforcements to key locations without requiring any of our sides Servants to play their hand unnecessarily."
This entire War was a disgusting farce. A wish to change history? Self-indulgent cowardice. There was no use in attempting to mend what had already been broken. The true path was to accept what had happened and move on. Find opportunity in one's own loss.
Cao Cao curled his lip as he beheld this small city from atop the hotel's roof. He had materialized for the moment, so as to feel the breeze with his own flesh and not be confined in spirit form. Though he was wearing appropriate clothing for the era, having secured a black three-piece suit with his Master's aid, his hair tied up in a rugged ponytail more suited to this generation's styles. Rider stroked his beard. His Master...a strange one, to be certain. Still, he supposed there could be worse. A boy(?) with the mindset of an animal was more likely to give him free reign to operate instead of micromanaging his every move. Really, this almost felt familiar, with the exception that this Master was likely at least somewhat competent in multiple fields, unlike the worthless boy whose so-called authority he'd wielded for decades.
For now, he simply watched and waited atop the hotel roof, curious to see if and when a fellow Servant or his Master required something of him.
Boring. Boring boring boring, everything in this building was so boring! It was just his luck to get an absolute coward of a Master who wouldn't leave their room after summoning him, leaving him to wander around and wait for something to do or someone to talk to. There were plenty of pretty girls on his team, but they were all locked up in their rooms with their Masters, most likely talking about actual strategies and plans. So this left two people who he knew were out and about for sure. A very self serious Rider who was brooding up on the rooftop, and a Berserker. Berserkers weren't much for conversation, and there was no way Meleager was going to associate with someone who was trying that hard to look serious so soon into the hunt (also he kind of reminded him of his uncle), so that left Meleager with only one viable option!
He would go to the other team's base and see if any of their cute girls were up for a date! The war hadn't actually started yet, so there was a solid chance one of them might be down to hang out for the day right? That's what Meleager would tell himself anyways as he threw on his Sunday best and headed for the hotel entrance. There was a certain pep in his step as he walked straight for the front door, passing by Berserker and throwing him a wave as he left the building entirely. He'd maintain a civilian pace as he walked towards the Blue Team's base, though he had to ask some cute girls for directions more than once on the way. Was he flirting with them? Absolutely not! Yes, his words could be construed as flirtatious as he made them blush and swoon over himself, but he never spent that long with them! Ten minutes, tops!
Ok yes, now he was hanging out with them at a coffee shop! But really he was just doing his duty as a hero, you never know what might happen to a group of innocent young ladies when you're out on the town! Meleager was keeping them safe, and if he happened to have a good time while he did so then that was nobody's business but his own! Man it sure would suck if one of his teammates left to drag him back to base for a proper strategy meeting. It would really suck if he happened to run into one of the other Servants from the Blue Team, and they had to have a tense standoff while Meleager hung out with these cute girls. It would really really suck if that Servant was also a cute girl!
Jacob Arling, Master of Red, Workshop, Red Faction Base
The room had a homey feeling, its atmosphere almost golden from the candles and fireplace erected within. At the single large desk sat a young man, youthful and handsome in his features, dressed in the fashion of a century past, a dark blue coat covering his body above the desktop, frills poking out from the slightly too long sleeves and white gloves covering his hands. A jeweled cravat of blue silk rested upon his throat, and his hair hung over his face, orange and fiery yet refusing to appear messy or uncared for. A simple top hat sat on the edge of the table, out of his way as his hands moved in smooth, precise motions.
The soft rasping noise of a brush on paper filled the room as he worked, shapes and symbols in bloody red stretching across the sheets of parchment before him, A large pile of copies already finished sitting in an open drawer. He worked quietly, focused entirely on the sigils in front of him, not making even the faintest of sounds, to all the world barely even appearing to breath, the gentle movements of his chest being the only sign that he was indeed a living person and not some sort of automaton. In the soft candle light, the ink he painted with shimmered in crimson red like freshly spilled blood, the color dancing and sparkling before one's eyes.
Like the stars, that glimmering light had an almost hypnotic effect as the young man worked, his mind calming and sinking into that immaterial sea of the mind, memories floating across the eyes of consciousness even as his body continued to work and move, almost a puppet in its actions.
He remembers many things. He remembered the births and deaths of all his siblings. He remembered learning the ways of magecraft under his father's tutelage, learning how to activate and utilize his magic circuits. He remembered playing with his brothers in the yard, running 'round rocks and trees, wooden swords smacking and cracking against one another. He remembered leaving for the Clock Tower and studying beneath the various professors. He remembered returning to his home, years gone by and now a man. He remembered cutting down whoever stood in his way as he purged the sickness from his clan, piece by piece, life after life.
All this he remembers, and yet all this is merely a brief instance, a flashing sequence of events in his mind's eye as his thoughts are taken up with the conversation that had brought him to this land.
××××× "These words are...true", he questioned, eyes focused upon the sheet of paper in his hand. His other hand brought up a cup of coco, warm and steamy as he took a sip, before placing the letter on his desk. Across the room stood one his descendents, Henry, if he recalled correctly. Aged twenty-seven, average potential, nothing special, focused his efforts on water based mysteries and had a strange fondness for the bowl cut. Perhaps he thought it made him look charming?
"Yes Great-Grandfather", the boy spoke softly, respectfully, head bowed and hands clasped before him. To an outsider it would have likely appeared as though he were in prayer. " Cousin Michael was sure to confirm the validity of the declaration with others in the association before sending his report. The magus Hektor Bahadir is in possession of the Greater Grail and intends a ritual that could destabilize the whole of the world. The Association is putting together a team to stand against him".
The young man hummed in contemplation, before giving a soft whistle. At once two squirrels dashed towards the desk from the roof beams above. Rolling the letters into small tubes, the man attached them to two small harnesses worn by the Familiars before speaking.
"Take these messages to the library, give them to Judith and ensure she archives them correctly. Henry, tell the servants to prepare my bags, I've a trip to undertake".
The Familiars bowed their heads and sped off, hopping to the floor and running through the door. Henry however stayed, now watching his grandfather in shock.
"You, you intend to participate", his voice was wavered slightly an almost poleaxed expression on his visage as his elder stood and walked towards the open window, looking out over the manor grounds as men, women, and children moved this way and that. Some were simple servants and staff, others his own kin, and others still visiting magi from allied families and associates.
"Of course I intend to participate. The Association has been good to us Henry, never forget that. We wouldn't be where we are now if it wasn't for their assistance".
Henry went bug eyed as he stared. "But, but the preparations for the meeting, you've been setting up this conclave for months, years even! You can't seriously mean your going to throw it away over some nobody in the middle of nowhere!?", he exclaimed. He made to continue, yet-
"Enough".
A single word, simple and direct. Henry made a choking sound as he realized the tone he had begun to take, skin paling to near white as he started shiver and shake. Slowly, gently, his grandfather turned his head to regard him, a single shining eye locking the boy in place.
"You will not address me in such a way again. Understood?"
His words were spoken with a smile, yet the feeling that struck Henry Arling was one all members of the clan were familiar with. A cold, cruel presence that woke whenever one thought to challenge the youthful head of their Family.
As though Death itself had stepped into the room.
Henry bowed in jerky, staggering motion, hand over his heart and eyes closed in submission. Sweat dripped from his forehead and soft hiccuping sounds escaped his throat as he tried to get his breathing under control.
"F-forgive me, G-Grandfather. I f-f-forgot my manners S-Sir, I promise...it won't happen again", the last words were spoken in a panicked rush as Henry stood still, bowed and rooted in place as he heard his grandfather walk around his desk until he stood directly before him. He waited quietly, trembling in fear until he flinched, feeling his grandfather's gloved hand upon his head.
"You needn't worry my boy. I understand that you were simply worried for the family. Still, its rather clear to me that you are under a sever amount of stress, so I say, why don't you go and rest for a while? Take a nap, read a book, something. I'll see you again at dinner".
The dismissal was as clear as the sky, and Henry wasted no time giving his thanks as he backed out of the room, before turning and fleeing as fast as he could without actually running. The elder Magus watched him for a moment, then turned, and walked back towards his desk. A simple motion of hand saw the large doors of heavy, old oak swing shut with the smallest whisper of wind, making nary a sound as they closed. Lifting his cup, he resumed drinking the chocolate liquid within, before he grimaced and set it back down. 'Cold'.
As he stood, his mind drifted back to the words on the letters. A Holy Grail War. This, he decided, would be most interesting ×××××
He woke from his stupor with a small start, focusing once more upon the spell sheets before him. Where once the stack of parchment was small, now it was large, easily more than foot of perfect magical sigils done in scarlet ink.
If only paperwork could be this easy.
The Magus leaned back in his seat, opening and closing his hands to help circulate the blood within and smiled, before he pulled of the glove on his left hand. A crimson tattoo adorned the back, three bright red stigmata in the form of what appeared to be a bird in flight. He wasn't entirely sure how or why the Command Seals had taken such an appearance, perhaps eluding to the wild and free nature of his magecraft? He wasn't certain but he didn't consider it a particularly important inquiry.
He smiled once more, and reached into his pocket before pulling out, of all things, A bar of chocolate. He opened it packaging, took a bite, and contemplated before he swallowed and looked towards the ceiling as though he were about to address God.
"Caster dear", he spoke, smiling like a child, open and full of joy and excitement, "Would you happen to like some candy, I feel we should converse and prepare for the things to come".
"Yes", Jacob Roan Arling, fourty seventh head of the Arling Mage Clan thought, "This will be most interesting indeed".
"Ho ho! This is enjoyable!" —————————————————— Their room in the hotel
Hervor stood tall as she paced their room in the hotel, dawning clothing that fits this time than hers, as much as she was willing to fight drawing attention is not the best course of action. Yellow turtle neck, dark jeans, brown coat, and a pair of rubber shoes. She glanced over to the one guiding her which was Thaleia, something Hervor never saw herself understanding.
"Ho ho! Tell me more, tell me more!" Hervor exclaimed speaking about the changes in the world, because it is true that her knowledge on the world has definitely changed, she may not be on top as she thought she was before but though she was still Hervor, the towering woman who wanted to shed blood and fight till the sun burns up. She looked at Thaleia up and down still not understanding what she is exactly, she looked human enough but Hervor knows enough to know that she is not. Whatever she may be, there is no reason to get hung up on it.
Hervor moved to the window and looked outside to see what the environment, she still cannot believe that things have changed so much.
"Tell me," Her eyes first moved to Thaleia but then to her master, "You're not happy with me? No no... It is clearly not that..." Hervor continued, her face continued to get more smug, it was like she was toying with her master but that was not the case, she is really just like this. "You're not happy with this." Said Hervor, her sword appeared in her hand seemingly out of nowhere still in its scabbard. "Share your woes with me." She practically demanded it.
Hervor wanted to win, she liked her master, she is feisty and filled with a burning passion which Hervor has a large amount of respect for.
"Tell me," Her eyes first moved to Thaleia but then to her master, "You're not happy with me? No no... It is clearly not that..." Hervor continued, her face continued to get more smug, it was like she was toying with her master but that was not the case, she is really just like this. "You're not happy with this." Said Hervor, her sword appeared in her hand seemingly out of nowhere still in its scabbard. "Share your woes with me." She practically demanded it.
Hervor wanted to win, she liked her master, she is feisty and filled with a burning passion which Hervor has a large amount of respect for.
Interactions:
Christine Herphae & Thaleia Their room in the hotel
Thaleia blinked a bit as Hervor spoke, having to tilt her head backwards a bit to look the towering giant of a woman in the eye... Okay, she had no clue what to say here. How in the world does someone start explaining the modern world to someone... Well, Mother did, so she would probably be able to due it. But she still hadn't learned everything about everything yet, so how in the world was she going to do it! So lost in thought on what to do, she didn't actually really notice Hervor inspecting her, or leave to go to the window. She only noticed Hervor had left when she spoke up again, jumping slightly and looking at her.
Christine turned as she was addressed by her Servant, squinting at her for a moment... She wanted to punch her. Despite the fact that she'd more than likely break her hand on her face, at that moment, she wanted to punch her in that smug grin. Gritting her teeth, she jabbed a finger at that DAMN sword! "Oh I'll share my woes with you! Out of all the servants I could have summoned, I got one of the small selection with a CURSED weapon! Meaning that no, I cannot study the damn thing! Can't take notes, can't even see the thing! Half of the reason I was excited about this war was the fact I'd likely get to study some items from the Age of the Gods! Do you REALIZE how valuable that kind of information would be?!"
She proceeded to descend into a lengthy technical rant about how Mystic Codes had declined over time, and why being able to study something like her sword would be so valuable. Thaleia took a step up besides Hervor, letting out a small sigh and looking up at the towering woman again... Really was kind of intimidating being next to her. "S-Sorry about Mother, she is rather... passionate about her work. She'll get over it eventually, but for now, she's gonna be ranting for a while. I-If you want, we could see if any of the other members of the team are about? O-Or at least check out the area, see where everything is?"
Reclining in the chair in her room, Blenda studied the map of Çanakkale hung on the wall surrounded by the photographs of various landmarks and buildings of interest across the city with further notes attached to them giving a short description of the locales as well as the location of their base circles in bright blue marker. Sighing, she grabbed a pair of dice and rolled them on the table in front of her before closing her eyes for a moment. The ritual Hector Bahadir has devised was quite an interesting puzzle, she had to admit, up to and including accounting for, no, active inclusion of, enemy forces. So many moving parts and so many variables, some of which were so incredibly hard to predict the path of, and that was before one included Servants. Truly, a chaotic mess that would either blow up in the man's face spectacularly or succeed beyond anyone's wildest imagination.
Chuckling, she opened her eyes and leaned forward, looking at the dice. Three and nine. Still, of all Servants, she did not expect to summon Berserker, even one as apparently lucid as hers have so far been. Reckless as she may sometimes have appeared, she wondered what it said about her to draw the wielder of madness? Clicking her tongue, she dismisses her thoughts, irrelevant as they were to the situation.
"Berserker" she calls "would you prefer to familiarize yourself with the city or perhaps interact with our allies?"
Standing at the top of the mansion, William surveys the land before her, brows furrowed in concentration even though she sees with little clarity even things at the bottom of the building, directly underneath her. An interesting situation, to find herself in. She knew her way with a bow of course, what warrior would she be had she not after all, but to be summoned as the hero of the bow simply on the account of the way The Usurper have died... Snorting, she lets her mind wander. Being on the defensive is unusual enough for her as it is, but to know next to nothing of enemy's capabilities... Infuriating and worrying in equal measure. There are so many ways things can go wrong on a campaign caused by lack of information.
Shaking her head, she makes her decision. No time to dwindle, better be proactive and secure some additional ground beyond just main fort. One castle is all well and good, but it cannot hold entire country, no matter how well placed. No, she will need a lot more before she feels secure about letting the enemy approach.
First, the city. Then, the war. And after that... who knows, the world will be ripe for picking anew.
Master, I am venturing into the city to secure forward positions. She adds as an afterthought. It's hard to remember that she had a partner in this, with how quiet they were. But, perhaps, it was for the better that they left the war for those whose trade it was.
Smiling, William jumps down, ready to appropriate one of this era's steeds, motorbikes they were called if she recalls correctly. She was in a hurry, but not so much as to not enjoy a ride and survey of what would be hers.
Within the air above Jacob Arling, a slight change in pressure could be observed as something moved, flickering particles of light blue converging on a singular point before, as if the air itself was being painted over, the pallid woman that was his Servant emerged. Her feet were firmly pressed against the ceiling, transfixed as if her heels were bolted there like a chandelier before she released her hold on the material. Her descent was gradual, until she stood beside Jacob's desk, off to the left of his seat. Her eyeless gaze would fall upon him as she considered for a moment whether taking the chocolate was a good idea or not.
"I do not know much about the sweets of this time...but I would not turn down an offer from you. If anything is to be discussed first, then let it be this..." Skuld said, before the strange eyes she possessed opened and stared at Jacob.
"To win this war on your behalf, many will die. That is an unavoidable requirement of my Noble Phantasm. There cannot be victory without sacrifice, my master. Blood will fill the grail you seek, but you have time yet to reconsider," the elven caster said, before slowly fixing her gaze on the bar of chocolate, the pointed ears sticking from the sides of her head flicking to and fro in a wiggling motion.
Berserker of Red _________________________________
There was already somebody on the roof, it seemed.
Rockwell paused just in the doorway for a moment, considering. The other spirit was off at the edge of the roof, looking out over the city - much like he had planned to, for that matter. That earned the man a point in Rockwell's book; you could never be too careful. Yes, his master had told him that nothing was likely to happen before nightfall on account of the need for secrecy, but there were a dozen ways to kill someone inside a building without breaking cover. An arrow, a bullet, hell, a bomb. After all, who would think to blame a bombing on wizards?
Rockwell stepped out onto the roof and walked up to the parapet, a few feet off to Cao Cao's left, tucked his hands in the pockets of his slacks and looked out over the city with a low grunt of acknowledgement - giving the other Servant some room. To anyone watching, there might have been an interesting comparison drawn between the two. A pair of men in suits, both bearded, both long-haired. One tall and massively-built in slightly-faded brown, his beard spilling down over his chest almost to the waist, hair raked back and tied efficiently into a long, wild tail, face shadowed by a wide-brimmed hat; the other cleaner-cut in a neat black three-piece.
After a long moment, Rockwell spoke.
"I don't like sittin' here," he said slowly, as if to the city below him. "Feels like I'm about to get shot." The mountaineer's eyes moved across the horizon, hunting for the mansion on the other side of town. "But then if these loons are trying to re-do the war, I suppose snipin' us out the first night wouldn't accomplish much, right?"
Blue team base. Mentioned: @Seirei No Hai (Lancer of Blue)
It had been a harrowing trip across the mediterranean. Even the choice of taking a private luxury liner did little to ease a growing enthusiasm that made her heart throb much like a maiden's when bewitched by a knight's gallant smile. After all, she was about to take part in a ritual like no other: The Holy Grail War. A unique chance to see and admire the finest monsters and heroes that had emerged across the span of human history. And it would've been much more prudent to ransack St. James' tomb for a powerful catalyst, but Trinidad found it was very hard to resist the temptation of attempting a summoning by herself and bask and revel with the gift fate had prepared just for her. What sort of hand would she be dealt with? What kind of creature would a lady like herself be destined to fight with? What would make it tick? What would make it swoon? What would make it smile? What would make it cry?
What would make it love?
These questions lingered and thrived across the entire trip from Spain to Turkey, from the moment she set foot in the hallowed ground where the war would be waged to the moment where she finished preparing her workshop. And, finally, to the moment where she performed the sacred ritual that'd bring her partner forth into a proper state of being; to the moment where her melodious voice sang the words that'd manifest a hero of centuries long past. The one she'd devote herself to care and nurture amidst the hell set to fall upon this ancient warsite; the one she'd allow to be her knight and standard bearer for this retreaded conflict.
And once her Servant, the Lancer of Blue, had fully and properly made herself one of this world she'd find herself greeted by a youthful woman clad in black who held her arms open for the Heroic Spirit, welcoming her with a warm yet cordial smile that'd be followed by a curtsy that spoke of her higher birth. That'd smile prove impossible to wipe from Trinidad's face no matter what'd be said to her, and Lancer'd be guided off to the homunculus' chambers to share and enjoy a cup of tea prepared by the Mantonegro in order to properly acquaintance themselves with one another before letting the Lancer wander around the city as much as she wished to for the remainder of the night.
After all, gentle affection was the best way to befriend a stray dog.
And as Valentina conducted her ritual, light began to gather within the summoning circle. A white and warm light, one that seemed deceptively divine. Yet, from such a light one'd not hear an angelic chorus but the far-away crackling of ignited wood. The distant sound of heavy iron chains being dragged on the ground. The sounds of approaching footsteps. First of one person. Then of three. Then of five. Then of many more. Grave footsteps on a stone floor that'd be heard only by the Phantom Thief. The distint jingle of a very populated key ring coincided with the light gathering in the shape of a spire, and the slow creaking of a wooden door being pushed open had it grow and glow brighter and brighter until it finally receded and faded away.
And where that light had once been now stood an affable, smiling blond man clad in priestly garbs.
"My, my. To think that I'd be called upon the earthly kingdom so soon. You must be quite eager to redeem yourself to His eyes, Master" said the bespectacled man of the cloth in an amicable voice as he made a few steps towards Valley. "Rejoyce, wayward lamb, for you've been given a unique chance to attain Salvation". A hand was offered for a friendly shake. "Don't worry about any titles or protocol; my class and moniker for our hallowed quest will be Assassin".
RED TEAM - ARCHER - AKHENATEN ________________________________________________________________*
The modern world had luxuries... But none as great as those of Egypt. Regardless, Akhenaten had taken up with attempting to enjoy himself, at least until the war was swinging properly, and he could operate as he wished. For now though, he had chosen to learn as much as he could about the world, have a conversation with Aten, and order food at the same time. As such, he was currently standing in front of the TV, with Aten in one hand, and the other on a phone. After all, there was no chair worthy of a pharaoh in this hotel. He'd have much rather simply razed the place to the ground than accept such poor accommodations, but his master had made it clear not to do such a thing.
"Yes, please send up one chicken breast, with that honey glaze your menu claims to be 'a chef's favorite.' Alongside that, I also wish to try your carrot cake. Make sure to include a carrot design with frosting. Finally-" The list of foods he'd demanded was quite large, leading upwards to over twenty items, which would be more than enough to feed the team if they wished. Though he was a pharaoh, and as such it was his tradition to enjoy a daily feast. A lavish display of foods from this country was just barely worthy of that, but he had to accept certain accommodations.
The TV though, that was a buzz with information. Cartoons it seemed, were now used to entertain the childr- There had been two world w- A man named Hitle- Buy 2 get 1 fre- The presidental elections were coming u- Who was Martin Van B- Was the moon landing a hoa- In this day and age it's important to eat good ol' McDo- The second world war left Germany in r- Again and again, he flicked through channels, absorbing information at a remarkable rate. And everything he heard, he remembered. Not that it mattered.
The third thing, his in-depth conversation with Aten, was mostly one-sided, with Aten doing most of the talking. It was easy to decipher, for him at least. To his master, the sounds Aten made sounded like screeching metal, or grinding nails. But to him, it was mostly talk of diagnostics. Distances, charting courses, all the things a Sun Diety must be aware of. After all, Aten was a busy god. Even if modern man was convinced that Aten was some ball of hot gasses. Perhaps he should wish to have that corrected. Though he already had his wish planned for.
But as he hung up the phone, he now had a full part of his mind free to do as it pleased, and that meant boredom. "Master, I have decided I shall go speak to one of the other parties." Akhenaten said, to his Master who was likely trying to ignore his servant and the many distractions. Probably thankful that Akhenaten turned the TV off, and left without waiting for his master to protest. Walking out into the hallway, to see which of his allies he might run into.
"That is correct, Master. Deployment of our forces would be no trouble at all, whether it be an army or a single person. With eyes everywhere, we can react and respond immediately to any move they make within this town. Their base is a little too well defended, but should you find anything suitable to siege it with, we can move immediately for a siege."
Hanzo offered a hand, smiling slightly as she did so.
"If you wish, I can give you a demonstration of my escort services right now. There is a good coffee shop one of my shinobi have found. Its near the edge of town, so I doubt any of the enemies will discover us there."
Even if they get close, her network will catch them beforehand, allowing them to escape unseen. Not that was worth mentioning to her Master, since it was a very very low chance that any would approach right now in the open.
Yao Ying Xi, Her room in the mansion
A small golden cat was placed carefully onto the small table. It was not truly made of gold, nor was it a design that one would think of as Chinese or even Asian. All that mattered was that it was a close enough symbol for good flow of chi. No longer did her room stink of stagnant chi, or felt tumultuous from it being fast flowing, it now was a pleasant stream. Inhaling, she stepped into the center of the room, and moved her body. The shape of her room, her movements, and the sun's position. With a snap of her fist, a small controlled puff of flame came out.
Her ever present smile widened.
"Ah, Saber. Did you find a good spot?" Ying Xi spoke through telepathy with her servant. She took but a single step outside her door before being bombarded by the mansion's odd flow. "Before that, do you know of the sun and moon mirrors? The square and round bowls you're holding will give you a clue."
Utterly, did Valley find herself, unprepared for the ocean of magic that sprung forth from the droplet of magic she dripped into the ritual circle to lure the Servant that would heed her call. Around her, bells rang of all kinds; from tinny jingles to dominant clangs, like tambourines and church bells. In eerie depths of tone, a phantasmal choir vocalized - a backing of notes, two-four - as an acting, metronomic tempo to a whispered duel of chants in a mix of languages she couldn’t speak. However, she knew snippets of their tongues; Latin and Spanish, old mother tongues.
“Hear him!”
“See her!
“Our Grand Inquisitor!”
“Our Lady of Shadows!”
Feverishly, the chants dueled to a higher and higher pitch, as the choir grew oppressively lower, and both forced Valley to her knees. It was all the struggle she could muster to maintain the Spirits that heeded her call; the self-trained Mage, and Phantom Thief, looked up as the Saint Graphs materialized - two had come to her aid, timeless and connected.
Yet, only one could stay the course.
If she could find it.
Pain wreathed her body, her soul, and tore at her spirit. Such control was beyond her means, and inspired not thoughts of greatness, but fear...
At a crossroads, she stood:
Walk proudly upon The Path of the Righteous...
...or...
Drift freely among The Dreams of the Slumbering...
Her choices were only two, yet felt immensely more. In her heart, she knew she was playing a dangerous game, but she didn’t realize how dangerous.
Until now.
"Daunting odds, isn't it, my little granddaughter? The Grand Inquisitor. The Lady of Shadow. A choice, all yours." Phantasmally, to her right, a dapper, masked man appeared and rested his hand on Valley's trembling shoulder - before rapping her upside the head with a fancy cane. "Stop trembling. It's unbecoming of a Lupin. Ask yourself, chickadee, the only question worth asking: What's worth stealing? The Hand of God, or the Hand of Death?"
Valley looked up, eyeing her masked grandfather - some generations back - with amazement. In moments, her shaking ceased, as her bravery mounted, and her mind looked upon the challenging Servants as prizes to be stolen. "I'm never going to Heaven," she says, her voice a light, pleasant soprano. However, it deepened, suddenly, as if another was speaking, into a contralto, "So, I should enjoy my time in Hell."
Confidently, Valley grinned, as she made her choice of damnation over salvation; determined to follow the path of the Lupin Family. Standing, Valley barely noticed Arsene's Phantom vanish into his book of secret and deceptions that had served her for years, but she did - her voices, seemingly, joining into a mezzo-soprano - as she said, "Thanks, Grandpa," before she faltered; eyes rolling in the back of her head, body going limp, as she fainted from the strain of summoning two Servants in a single cast.
Fortunately, the choice was made, the cast was set, and she sealed the Lady of Shadows upon the physical realm once more.
A small golden cat was placed carefully onto the small table. It was not truly made of gold, nor was it a design that one would think of as Chinese or even Asian. All that mattered was that it was a close enough symbol for good flow of chi. No longer did her room stink of stagnant chi, or felt tumultuous from it being fast flowing, it now was a pleasant stream. Inhaling, she stepped into the center of the room, and moved her body. The shape of her room, her movements, and the sun's position. With a snap of her fist, a small controlled puff of flame came out.
Her ever present smile widened.
"Ah, Saber. Did you find a good spot?" Ying Xi spoke through telepathy with her servant. She took but a single step outside her door before being bombarded by the mansion's odd flow. "Before that, do you know of the sun and moon mirrors? The square and round bowls you're holding will give you a clue."
Saber of the Sea The Mansion Courtyard
"I like to believe that I have master, thought it may not meet your expectations. I am not familiar enough with your practices to really understand what makes a good spot or not." And she meant it. The courtyard was well maintained, with well kept plants strategically placed in between the winding paths. Now, this might be personal bias, but she particularly liked a small bench and table besides the pond out here. Setting the two mirrors aside, she stared at them for a moment as her master asked the question.
The two silver bowls were exactly as described, one being a square shape, the other being round. Almost entirely plain besides the symbols of the sun and the moon on their interiors, she stared at them for a couple moments. Maybe... yin and yang? The Chinese loved talking about the yin and yang. Thinking for another moment, she waved a hand towards the bowls, expending a small amount of magical energy. Seemingly forming from nothing inside the bowls, pure fresh water formed, filling them to exactly the brim, perfectly reflecting the sky above. "I'm going to guess it has something to do with the yin and yang, Master?"
Within the air above Jacob Arling, a slight change in pressure could be observed as something moved, flickering particles of light blue converging on a singular point before, as if the air itself was being painted over, the pallid woman that was his Servant emerged. Her feet were firmly pressed against the ceiling, transfixed as if her heels were bolted there like a chandelier before she released her hold on the material. Her descent was gradual, until she stood beside Jacob's desk, off to the left of his seat. Her eyeless gaze would fall upon him as she considered for a moment whether taking the chocolate was a good idea or not.
"I do not know much about the sweets of this time...but I would not turn down an offer from you. If anything is to be discussed first, then let it be this..." Skuld said, before the strange eyes she possessed opened and stared at Jacob.
"To win this war on your behalf, many will die. That is an unavoidable requirement of my Noble Phantasm. There cannot be victory without sacrifice, my master. Blood will fill the grail you seek, but you have time yet to reconsider," the elven caster said, before slowly fixing her gaze on the bar of chocolate, the pointed ears sticking from the sides of her head flicking to and fro in a wiggling motion.
"...What flavor is it?"
Jacob Arling, Master of Red, Workshop, Red Faction Base
"To start with, the more important question", he said with a closed eyed smile as he tilted his head back slightly, "It chocolate with a caramel filling".
The bar of candy wiggled in time with his wrist motion as he gave the snack a gentle shake in his Servant's direction.
"As for your prior question...", at this point he paused and reached out with his free hand and gently flicked his hat off the desk. Where most would expect the hat to fall towards the carpet below, for a brief moment there was a small and near invisible waver in the air, as instead, the hat sailed.
It glided across the room, spinning on the gentle breeze that had sprung up out of nowhere, as though a ghostly hand of wind had reached out and grabbed hold. It was smooth, quick trip, before the hat completed its small circuit of the room and softly plopped itself down comfortably on Jacob's head with a quiet patting sound as the youthful looking magus stood in a single, smooth motion.
"As for your prior question, its simple really. The question should not be whether or not I will be able to stomach the carnage of the Grail War. Rather it should be 'How much would the potential result of civilian casualties affect you. How much do the lives of the innocent people of Çanakkale matter to your conscience', and the answer would be: Not Much", he continued his previous words, laying the bar of chocolate upon his desk and pulling a glove back onto his bare and scared hand.
He shrugged his arms and splayed his hands in a " What can you do?", gesture as he looked back over his shoulder at the Elven Caster with a carefree smile.
"They say that to be a Magus is to walk with death. Yet they've never said we couldn't do so as an observer instead of a retrieval. Personally if I'm to be a subject on Deaths table one day, I'd much rather be am assistant handling Delivery first".
