Well, her partner hadn't exactly been much for conversation- she could hold a better dialogue with One- but her mind had been turning at least a little. Besides, scoping the city out before doing the summoning had been an important first step.

"Huh, guess it is only four after all. Weird, right Berserker? I thought spiritual land at this level would have more, honestly. Well, the more you know! So then, I gueeeess the next order of business would be to get back to the worksho-"

A pause, as a light burning sensation spread over the back of her hand. A pain similar to that of opening one's Magic Circuits in its 'form,' but hollower. If opening one's Circuits was a pain that came from life, this was merely a pain that came from continuation. That hardly mattered, though- sophistry had no merit in an event like this.

"...looks like we've got company, Berserker. And company that's pretty close by, at that. Let's see."

The threads of her consciousness were extended, and searched through the area, coming up empty. Curious.

She couldn't verify the presence of a Servant given Berserker's own restrictions, not without using magecraft that would get them noticed. Still, a Master is surely in the area, but she's unable to locate them. The natural conclusion, then, was that the other Master was able to conceal their magical energy to such a degree, or had kept their Circuit closed. In either case, it was troublesome. A glance spared to her own Command Spell was enough to remind her of her relative position in this war.

"Hm. Well, we can't locate them, and their Servant will be able to find us by tracking you, Berserker. That's not ideal, means they'll get to set the terms of engagement, and if we try to run for it, we won't know the right direction to actually go. What a mess, I really should have prepared more~"

A long, exaggerated sigh slipped past her lips, even as they curled up into a grin. With a small flourish that nobody who wasn't contracted to her would even see, she withdrew a knife, feigning some basic stretches for a couple of seconds.

"One, collect some birds for me, will you? Crows if possible, you know the drill. Berserker, stay astralized and stay next to me, 'kay? If they're getting the chance to set the terms of engagement, least we can do is set up an opening reception for them!"

There was something very wrong with that smile.

---

Caster sat on the grassy bank of the river that flowed through this town, gently kicking her feet in the water and twirling an umbrella in her hand. She watched the setting sun as the chilling winds blew around her.

‘The presence of an enemy so soon is unfortunate. It would have been better to find some ingredients to work with, but we can hardly pass up on the opportunity to gain information on our enemies this early.’ She spoke in the mind of her Master. It was hard to get an impression of the woman from such little time together, but she was optimistic enough about their prospects as a team.

She had swiftly set up a bounded field upon learning that an enemy was nearby, ensuring there wouldn’t be any intrusions on the site of the battle. Now it was simply a matter of waiting for them to appear. If they were cowardly enough to flee the encounter, then that suited her well enough, too.

‘Little sister, are you comfortable?’ She asked. It was awkward, ordering around her sister without considering her wishes, but there was little time to waste.

‘Of course, my lady,’ Came the response. It was a little painful, too, that Xiaoqing still retained the habit of addressing her so formally, after all they had been through. But it was a difficult habit to break.

Closing her eyes as the sun dipped below the horizon, Caster began to sing softly, a lullaby she had so often whispered to her child in life. Though she seemed relaxed, she was coiled and ready to act at any moment, her senses focussed on the enemy Servant that shared this district. She would be ready to act at a moment’s notice.

---

Addressing @Astarte
Indirectly Addressing @Mr President@AThousandCurses





The past few days had certainly be a blur for the young child - although considering what he had plunged himself into, that could hardly be unexpected. Far from the speechless heroes he had inherited from his families, he had called into this world a living, breathing legend of the past. A figure who had achieved great things in life, immortalized in legend and mythology for their deeds.

He was in the presence of a real hero.

As such, even the usually excitable and energetic Kelemen was uncharacteristically subdued at first, trying to figure out how to approach this larger than life figure. That had been a few days ago, however, and now the eager young master was showing his new partner around the city, showing her all of his favourite spots. With an excited spring in his step, he held the hand of his companion as they walked through the streets together, with his free hand gesturing towards a park in the midst of the buildings. From what anyone would see, it would be the exact image of a young child leading their older sibling or parent along on a pleasant adventure.

"And that right there is Mechwart park!" Kelemen said in an excited voice, pointing at the garden as they walked. "I don't usually come here, but sometimes- ow!"

Suddenly, the steps halted. Letting go of his partner's hand, Kelemen gingerly held his right hand with his left, his eyes wincing in discomfort.

"My hand hurt for a moment." he explained, almost apologetic he let go of his partner's hand for a moment. "I'm not sure why... I feel like the crest is hurting!"

Berserker

---

"▂▂▃▃..."

This was the only response that Adina would most likely get from a servant like Berserker. Cursed with stupidity along with the inability to understand what the human language was greatly hampered the communication between master and servant. At the very least, Berserker can understand the intent behind his master's words.

Being astralized was highly uncomfortable for the Beast type servant, despite having the incapability to feeling anything when astralized, that Berserker wanted to materialized. It was similar to feeling like a caged animal except exchanging the cage with a void of nothingness. He wanted to prowl the land and feel the grass, the branches, and the trees as he hunted down his prey. Though under orders of his master, he was unable to do so and was left suffering being nox-existence.

His master was a human. Although, she was human something about her felt wrong. Even when he strike out in his pain after being summoned, her reaction felt weird. Though, that didn't concern him. It was most likely normal occurrence that Berserker would never understand. As long as she knew the boundary between him and her, he wouldn't bite her off.

However, his master said something. Whatever it was he was unable to understand but he understood something. It was that something was going to happen or someone was nearby. At the prospect of hunting and existing was enough to exhilarate Berserker.

"▂▂▃▃▄▄▅▅!"

But before he could even astralize, there was another command that his master issued. It wasn't like he understood what she meant but Berserker was familiar with one word.

Stay

At the sound of it, Berserker let his disappointment be known, "▂▂▃▃▄▄▅▅▅▅!" Berserker bellowed through their mental link but reluctantly obeyed her order. It wasn't like he was unused to this. Somewhere in his mind there was this ingrained feeling that he mustn't disobey his master. He knew not why this feeling existed but shredded into fertilizer.

@SSW @Yankee @Gracefully





“There are three rules that you must follow.”

“First. I am not a strong magus. You will completely align with the orders of the Command Spell, for we cannot win otherwise. To waste their power is something that will lead to our defeat.” It was soon after Rider was summoned . “Second, I will be on the battlefield with you. This is merely out of necessity for I am not a strong master.” The words came with a clinical voice, hardly cheerful, cold. “Third. Do not expect great help from me.” He did not repeat the reason as to why the third time.

It was simple enough, it was clear. I cannot win, so you will have to swear yourself as a blade for victory. You will have to fight with myself as a weight and shackle, for without that we cannot even fight to begin with. Some may have called it a self-deprecating self-evaluation, but it was spoken in a matter of fact way that came with objective observation and seasoned knowledge, almost dismissively of any potential ego that would have been related to the subject matter.

Those were the first words he spoke in that theater as he was greeted by two.

A man who did not even stand on the stage with him.

A person (hero) who stood before him as a fellow starring role.

“Hello, Rider is it? It is nice to meet you.” The same voice, yet it was warmer. Hollow and yet warm all the same in comparison, for even if it wasn’t quite human… It was precisely because of that, that it wasn’t cold like the words of the frail magus.

Beautiful, shining. Even if their faces were so similar... He was the same as the magus who hid as the director. Yet, to someone with the senses of a heroic spirit, let alone to someone who held the senses inherited from that mother… It was clear enough that it was not a human. Not that the magic layered upon him truly tried to hide that. The wrongness of a puppet simply was turned into a spotlight. It was only natural for him to be different, just like how Rider was different from humans to begin with.

A hero was one that stood separate from normal man.

“My name is Roland.” A hand with no flesh, yet garved in flush and taut youthful skin reached out, offered with a smile. “Will you not fight along with me?” The shadows of the theater focused around the two, or perhaps the darkness of the shadows already existed, with only the light of the two finally showing it to the world?

“...In any case, I am your master.” called the man from the audience. “I will share with you my abilities which are few. However there are things I know, and if you are not educated then you will follow my word on the workings of the world and the mystery. Whether you are long for the world or not does not matter, Ghost Liner. Simply that we bring a fall to stars and crown them false.”

A touch of bitterness… and the eagerness that such poison can bring finally filled his words, even if he himself did not notice. Ah, he was indeed human.

“Shall we march to war?”

The servant on the stage, Rider, looked from the contraption standing beside him to the man seated in the audience. So, this type of magus summoned him. Someone who, perhaps, yearned to be something they were not and lived by proxy? Or maybe just the paranoid type, as many were. Not only that, the demanding type. Right to the point.

Rider smiled.

"Of course," he said, his voice smooth and light. "You can leave everything to me."

Three rules, as Rider understood them: do not defy his master's orders, protect his master who will always be nearby, and finally to look after himself. That was fine. Compared to other heroes, Rider was good at following orders. It wasn’t something he was particularly proud of, but it was a simple truth. His whole life he'd fulfilled the requests of others, up until... well.

When Rider spoke it was with conviction. If there was a hint of anything else there, chagrin or otherwise, perhaps the magus sensed it but it was drowned out by confidence. His smile was as genuine as his words - the expression girlish, and nothing if not a little feral. Eager, but reserved. Rider flexed his hand. He thought that first impressions weren't everything, and spoke again.

"I'll give you everything you need to know about myself, and I will deliver us to victory. You don't have to worry about your partner being some rogue."
He looked again to the thing on stage with his master's face. "And this one?"

“Roland. A puppet. Do you know of the legend of the Paladins? My family is that of a magus line that creates puppets and theater based upon their legends. He then is-”

“I may be but a creation, but my name and my role is that of Roland. Whether or not it is something that is given to me, it is a life and name I strive to live out fully. Perhaps to someone from the ancient age of the gods it might not seem so grand, but I do not believe I pale in intent to any hero of man at least.”

A touch of humility, yet not to an extent that belittled himself. If he was believed in as the work of five centuries then he will carry himself as a hero fitting such a work.

Acting as if he wasn't interrupted, the magus continued where he left off- “Roland is my representative. In truth he poses as me, and fulfills my role. So long as he is able to cover it he fulfills the need of being Roland, and being myself. Things that are not my concern yet demand my attention can be left to him. Anything that does not relate to proper research. Although both of our responsibilities will be different in this war. I have not come here to spend my time in this city idly after all.”

"Understood." Then this puppet was an extension of his master. Rider was not very familiar with this character's inspiration, knowing only the most vague of things that came with being summoned into this era. 'Roland,' his creation, seemed much more personable than the man himself, and that brought a small amount of amusement to Rider's face. It could be that his earlier thought was correct, and his master was a man with some deep seeded wish in his heart. Ah, of course that was true - for why else would he summon someone such as Rider to compete in this little war?

Though this small knowledge about his master was endearing, the man in question seemed anything but. Rider glanced his master's way before he finally took Roland's hand, "then Roland, master, let us begin."



The aching burn of the seals, the presence of another servant. Both were clear indicators that another participant was close. The two walked together, even as puppets moved forth, hiding away, and otherwise moving into position in intercepting locations.

Roland in this case stayed behind, a trump card to be hidden later, a hero to be shown another time. A bit of subterfuge. Present the weak magus, and then present the puppet that was him another time. Normally revealing himself would be something he wasn’t keen on, but the reality was that he required proximity to his servant for the sake of their connection.

“Water carries the flow, it brings, or rather illuminates change. You can figure out the shift of the moon and stars from the water, and reflect the color of the sky upon it. The change of water is in truth the change of the world around it…

He offered no polite smile even as he raised a hand towards the famed river. “Then battle will paint it red. Magical Energy will cause it to swirl and run like the fury of battle. Yet ultimately we have no true advantage with it, and it is harder to avoid attention there, harder to break away. The town is better to fight in. Most heroes will stay their hand slightly if it will spare bystanders, correct? Then we will evaluate them from that, and utilize such a weakness.”

His hands, surprisingly slender were covered now in jagged claws, adorn by a twisted cross. Ash Locks, a weapon of the church. Rider was shown the curious process of taking pages from the book that was in this day and age, considered the standard and image of sacredness, and applying them to his limbs to transform them into weapons.

“I trust you have no objections.” he remarked as mana strings, hardly noticeable by most, but perhaps in Rider’s awareness rose to connect to a gastly figure, slightly floating from the ground, tattered and clawed apart legs becoming a ghost-like skirt of tattered cloth. The shadow of the magus rose before fading away, replaced by the puppet that took its place as the director’s shadow.

He hoped that his enemy would have the good sense to repel those who would pry and watch matters that were out of their world. After all, to someone like him preparing a bounded field along those lines was beyond his ability to do in short notice in a normal space.

“I am weak. But that does not mean I am useless… Not yet, anyway." But we'll see how far that carries him. He took that thought into mind as out of his sleeves came a strange thin blade. A strange, awkward throwing blade that was a heavy point that he held in his knuckles.

"Fuir les aveugles"

It flew, propelled like a bullet into the sky before it burst into a sparking show of noise and light.

A spell to scare those who knew not of the world beyond their lives, one to scare those who had no business into hiding and to close their eyes.

A very basic thing.

He leaned across the side of a building to rest himself. He would need this small moment for what was to come.

---

Ever since that fateful day, whenever Camillio Seguvia would look into the mirror, an unfamiliar light burnt from his eyes. It was not the burning feeling of hurt pride, that had faded after the first two years. Nor was it anger at the half piteous eyes that followed him throughout the halls of the Clocktower, he had no longer cared for them after the first decade.

It was only the ever-growing ennui of his position and situation, alongside the suppressed inner desire for something beyond his static daily life. Secluded away, both for his safety and because of his disinterest in the world outside the estate beyond his obligations.

Perhaps the maddening isolation pushed him to recklessly participate in this perilous ritual so far away from his ancestral lands. Somehow, the sound of the pounding of his heart amplified as he drew closer to Budapest.

The following events were somewhat of a blur, as he had summoned his servant hastily.

Which led to his current situation.

"... after which we are going to have to check into our lodgings, this matter should be resolved without any effort, which leaves us with time to scout out and prepare for our future battlefields. Ideally, we should take advantage of the daytime and the bustle of the city to cover you in spirit form. If there are-"

Slowly cutting off his words, Camillio discreetly began to scan his general area, command seals burning in warning of a foe nearby.

Saber.

He commanded.

It would seem that our plans for the Grail War are to be accelerated. If you wouldn't mind, find our opponent discreetly. After that, I care not for what you do, so far as you are able to find our opponent. I will watch from our connection but take care not to reveal too much of yourself, lest we give up the advantage of anonymity.

Taking a step back to blend into the nameless crowd, Camillio laid in wait for the upcoming encounter. Whether it ended in bloodshed or not, he cared little for. But he would be lying if he said he did not yearn to face his opponent in battle.

It is untrue that she is particularly 'more on edge' from the rapidly changing situation. This would imply that she was not already as on edge as she could possibly be; in this way, she considers herself an ideal warrior. From the moment she first summoned her Caster, she has been on edge. She has been waiting for the fight to, eventually, begin. ... It's not a pleasant way to be, and if asked, she would loudly and gladly decry it as a foolish lifestyle, but that it was, regardless, her way. She looks to her side, and mutters - that stinging does not distract her.

Well, it isn't supposed to, right? This is meant to be her reason to focus. If she has to fight, then she'll fight. It's about time she gets to work, here. "... Be wary, Caster. I don't want to overplay our hand. If we can win without showing off, that's what's best." She's kind of... firm. That is, awkward. She's not really used to working with anything with as much an expressive personality as this woman. It's awkward for her, because she can't compartmentalize it as easily. There's something to be said for a 'lone huntress', and in this war, she isn't going to get to be that. There will be some awkwardness while she adjusts, is all. She doesn't sit with her, though there is a passing fancy where she does strongly consider it - it would be nice, she supposes. The thought is swiftly abandoned. She also doesn't move away from her, though, standing behind her, her hands hidden in her sleeves. "It's not surprising that we'll encounter an enemy, though. Even this early. If they're clever, they have the same idea as me, here - they probably don't want to show off all their tricks so soon. If we have to withdraw, though, there's no shame in that."

That, she truly believes. Living is the most important thing, after all. She's no samurai, and can barely be considered a warrior, in the traditional sense. Instead, she has no real illusions about her nature; she is just a hunter. If she has to be underhanded to win, she does not care. If she has to flee, or even surrender, she does not have shame in this. Glory is found only in victory, not in the way you find victory. This is the nature of killers, she believes, and so she can say that kind of thing. Nothing wrong with that, as far as she's concerned.

Her arms leave her sleeves, and she glances to the side. Already, a small set of familiars - spirits bound in bird corpses - are shifting to help with the hunt. The sooner she finds the enemy master, the sooner she can engage him. "Hunt." That aside, there is nothing to show in her look, her bearing, or her stance that would imply she is about to be in a fight. She is simply waiting for the battle to begin.

"All that said, Caster, I do hope that this display can impress you."

---

---

For someone as lively as Ilya, the initial low-spirited reaction from her Master drew concern from the Servant. The young boy seemed a bit reserved around her after her initial summoning, which left the Lancer feeling a bit befuddled at how to handle what would be their ongoing relationship. Friendship, of course, would be the ultimate goal for her to achieve with him! However, all it took was a few days in Kelemen's presence to ease her mind, for now the two were joyously taking a stroll throughout town while clasped hand in hand.

Ilya's heterochromatic eyes darted back and forth, nothing short of a childishly wide grin tugging across her face. While the child skipped along with excited steps, the tall woman simply took long, stabled strides, easily counting one step of hers for every three of her Master's. Her enthralled glances drew for just a second longer in a particular direction, the old hero feeling a fleeting moment's distraction as the pair strolled past a tavern, though she showed no other sign of interest beyond that single pause. Without missing a single beat in her step, Ilya continued to follow along with Kelemen's tour, now turning her attention to the park he was pointing out.

With a sharp sense suddenly pulling taught in the back of her mind, Ilya suddenly planted both feet firmly to the ground, stopping both herself and the boy at the same moment that he suddenly cried out in pain, withdrawing from her grip and cautiously tending to his own hand. While he was distracted with that sharp pain, it could be assumed that the young boy would miss the sudden shift in the hero's expression, a brief flash of her inner thoughts becoming transparent.


As quickly as her face shifted into that expression, it was gone, immediately replaced with a softer smile as she gracefully dropped down to one knee, taking Kelemen's right hand between both of her own.

"Hey, hey. Don't worry, don't worry! That pain may feel sharp now, but it's just the starting signal for your rise to becoming-...t-to becoming..." She bit her tongue, stumbling over her words as se struggled to remember the name of the hero the boy idolized. She knew many heroes such as herself from her time...but none of them had such flamboyant titles as the one Kelemen looked up to! "To becoming Justice Fleet Specializer!" ...well, she tried.

Carrying on before he (or she, herself) could begin to question her statement, Ilya took Kelemen's hand in a more sturdy grip, leading the two in the direction where that mental cord was tugging her towards. Another hero. Ilya's blood burned hot as she was the one now pulling the other along. Though...something about this Servant puts me on guard...it's absolutely thrilling. With her strides placing her before the boy, she once more dropped the mask and allowed that transient expression to spread across her face once more.

---

_{Adressing @ShadowKingman
Indirectly addressing @Mr President @AThousandCurses}

---

He had remained astralized up until this point as a matter of course. It was only logical to do so from a logistics standpoint and a strategic one.

His Master might've had power to throw around, but this was the more expedient way to manage resources. Nobody could accuse Saber of being wasteful.

And the less he could be "seen", the less likely it would be for information to spread regardless before the time was right. Nobody could accuse Saber of being reckless.

Though it seemed like that state of affairs would change sooner rather than later.. His Master's input only further confirmed what he already knew, and his mind raced with possibilities that he discarded as quickly as he conjured up.

Guesswork without basis was worthless. All he had to do right now was obey, scout and finally see what they were up against for this Ritual.

All he had to do was play his part.

'Just leave it to me, Master. You summoned the first rated Servant, after all!'

The reply, filled with easy confidence and youthful enthusiasm, came to him as second nature as he separated himself from his Master, trusting the magus to know what he was doing just as the man trusted Saber to apply his own judgement.

Without delay, he snuck away and separated himself from his Master and the few people yet remaining in order to minimize risks. Once he was satisfied, he let his form take shape around his core.

...The looks of a young man were suitable, as was the clothing he had gained in this era. Truth be told, it wouldn't be the first or second, or even third thing one would associate with his particular tale, but if nothing else it must have fit with what those of "today" thought -- about his person, his story and his role.

Personally, he thought it could have done with a little less black, but well, beggars can't be choosers.

But if he started critiquing trends, then he only stood to waste the entire night away. In the end, it was not his business. He would do better to simply accept and move on, to find whoever was to be his opponent tonight. And after that? Well, the question would answer itself when it happened.

Going in blind was an irritating risk, but he supposed it couldn't be helped given the situation. He would just have to adapt.

---

The standard issue. A Bounded Field, to ward off prying eyes, had been the priority of course, and had been appropriately weaved to distort perception and muddle the senses. Adina was nothing if not capable of that much, after all. Even if this land's Second Owner was an unknown factor- a fact that was still baffling to her- frivolous use of magecraft in front of the masses was to be avoided. Besides that, with the extra refinements made, it would keep the other pairs roaming the city from seeing her in action unless they came here directly, which was for the best. Perhaps a Caster class Servant's familiar could bypass that, but there was only so much she could do.

The second order of business had been more selfish. Magic circles carved into the ground, in preparation for the fight that was likely to come. If she had the hours, she'd have liked to prepare some familiars, but she didn't have the opportunity to see that to completion. At least she'd made decent headway.

Her threads of consciousness rolled out again, and she felt that earlier smile return. At this level of proximity, detection was simple enough. It seemed like their guests were here. Time to roll out the welcoming party. Using that detection as a premise, she made the Bounded Field permeable for a moment, ensuring the passage of the other party in. If she didn't do that, she was sure they'd manage to find their way before long, but it was better for her to set the terms where she could.

Some discomfort fell over her for a reason she couldn't place, as they came into view. A boy and a woman. Well, the woman looked like she could better be called a girl, but still. And judging from how the latter was looking at the 'empty' space next to Adina, she had an idea of who was who. The boy was probably some decades-old freak then. Worrying, but nothing she hadn't seen before.

"H~ey! You're the others, right? Let me guess, you're the Servant, and you're the Mast-..."

Her voice died out in her throat. That feeling of discomfort grew as she took the sight of the two in. The girl looked excited, purposeful even, and was looking squarely where her astralized Servant was. The boy, though? That was not the expression of a decades-old monster who had mastered his craft.

It wasn't until she saw the mark on his hand that she realized what the source of that discomfort was. An empty marking, inferior even to the three wings that symbolized her own. Rank eight.

"Berserker, hold. Be prepared to attack on my command, but do not act yet."

Her thoughts ground to a halt after sending that mental message while she tried to process her revelation. Did that even make sense? Was that even possible?

"...hey, kid. Before either of us do anything, do you know what you're participating in right now?"

She could only pray that she was wrong.

Berserker

---

His master didn't seem to heed his disappointed howls as she decided to set up some sort of human ritual. However, Berserker detected a presence in the distance, as his master closed in. Someone, something, was nearby. The magical presence of that something was still detectable even when Berserker was astralized. And it could detect him. It made Berserker want to materialize and gnarl on that something's bones and flesh and fight until there was nothing left but a ravaged corpse.

In fact, Berserker was about to materialize and charge right into the hunt. There wasn't any reason his master wouldn't command him to attack whatever that something was in front of her and kill it at this moment. To be able to feel the earth, to smell the air, and to taste the blood of another being's was enough to incite Berserker to salivate if he physically could. Anticipation filled his passion, bloodthirst fueled his desire, and becoming corporeal made him want crave the fight. At his master's word, he was going to charge in and-

"Berserker, hold."

"▂▂▃▃▄▄▅▅!"Only to be met with even more disappointment. What was his master doing? There was prey out there, exposed and out in the open for him to hunt. It didn't matter if they were strong or weak, Berserker desperately wanted to gnarl on their bones and tear their flesh apart. The anticipation was killing Berserker and the rage continued to fuel his desire to fight even more. Yet, he did nothing in spite of his feelings, his desires, and his wants being neglected in favor for his master wanting to communicate with his prey.

Yet, there was this feeling that his wishes would soon become fulfilled if he had waited. Yes, all he had to do was wait. After all, Berserker only heard hold, that didn't mean they wouldn't attack.

Addressing @Astarte@Mr President@AThousandCurses





"Justice Force Spectronizer!" Kelemen corrected his partner even as he continued to look at the marks on his hands. Undeniably, the pain had come from the symbols on his hand - the symbols of his participation in the Holy Grail War. What this meant, he wasn't sure, but it undeniably meant that something was surely about to happen.

And just like that, preoccupied by the thoughts swirling around his adolescent mind, he missed the seemingly uncharacteristic expression his partner had briefly expressed on her face even as she took his hand and proceeded to guide him to an unknown location. Startled by the sudden movement, Kelemen was about to ask what the matter was when the answer presented itself in front of him.

A woman was standing before him - or rather, before both him and Ilya. Judging by how Ilya was gazing at the spot next to the woman rather than the woman herself, Kelemen guessed that this was one of those instances where the servant chose to hide themselves from public view, rather than blending in the old fashioned way. He remembered hearing the explanations, and how he had told Ilya he didn't feel comfortable talking to someone others couldn't necessarily see.

While he frowned that he was probably the only one who didn't know what the fourth person in this little encounter looked like, Kelemen shook that out of his head when a much greater insult to his young naive mind made its way to his ears.

"I'm not a kid!" Kelemen protested with all the dignity and insistence of a young child who was exactly that. The immature pout soon disappeared from his face, however, replaced by an excited smile and the look of someone who had met a new friend rather than an enemy in a mortal battle to the death.

"But of course I know what I'm getting myself into!" Kelemen said with that excited smile as he stepped in front of Ilya's stance and started walking towards the other master who had shown herself. Any proper combatant would have taken the opportunity to try and unleash a sudden first strike. To try and slip in some form of sneaky advantage. To try and take the enemy by surprise.

Kelemen offered Adina his hand.

"You're participating in the Holy Grail War too, right!?" Kelemen asked as if he was asking if someone was about to participate in the same hockey game. "I'm Kelemen! Let's all do our best so neither of us has any regrets, no matter who wins!"

@Dosthou @Breo @Cu Chulainn

---

"Y'know patchy, i like to put my clients in 3 differents categories" Giovanni started saying. There was a moment of rest on his side of the street, a lot of clients had already used his services, he could faintly feel them slowly expanding his net, and he used it to talk to someone, only problem was, nobody seemed to be near him, his only companion the crystal ball he had on the table in front of him. In his hand, a deck of cards that he constantly shuffle and reshuffled

"The first ones, are those that see me and think 'why not? It's only going to be 5 minutes for some cheap mumbo jumbo and entertainment', i like those, just men and women trying to have some fun, i can respect that ; second type are those dumb assholes that think themselves smart and only sit in my table to snobbishly say 'actually, i know how this whole thing works, i've read it on a book, it's called cold reading and bla bla bla' those shithead love talking, almost like they loved the sound of their own voice" he stopped for a moment and grinned, almost like he spotted the hypocrisy in his words but didn't care about it. He was about to continue but suddenly he felt a slight pain in his right hand. He knew instantly what it meant.

Rapidly, fluidly, like an automatic motion that he had done a thousand times before, he grabbed the crystall ball on the table and throwed it on one of the many pockets of his coat. It bulged slightly. Then he folded the table to a minimal size and saved, alongside the now folded chair, inside the backpag at the side of his feet. The cards, however, stayed in his hands.

"Look alive patchy, story time gonna have to wait, it's time to truly put at test that luck of yours, was that horrible migraine you gave me just a fluke, or is it really that strong? Only one way to find out!" He proclamed. If one were to look at his eyes, they would see the look a crazed man, a man desperately in search of an answer. Maybe this was the only way he would find it. Giovanni Fortuna Scalognatto prepared for battle.

I agree, gypsy. Those smartasses need to get kicked off their high horses! What is there even to be snobbish about anyway, trying to put a man down for doing what he believes in...

Archer grinned as his Master discussed the sort of clientele he generally received. His opinion on Giovanni was generally positive, at least for a scumbag gypsy. The first few moments with his Master were filled with discussing others they have observed in detail. In Archer's case, he had plenty of choice things to say about their mostly Hungarian subjects. Overall, he wasn't a real fan of the city or its people. Instead, he had marveled at how different the modern world has become. Wagons, communication, and even firearms had advanced to a level far beyond Archer's own understanding... And he quite liked it that way.

With a long draw of his cigarette, Archer patted his newly acquired gift from the modern world. The Avtomat Kalashnikova, a true symbol of revolution. With its high caliber ammunition, simply effective reliability, and its efficient cost of production, Archer could only wonder how wars could have been fought if such a weapon was in the hands of the Hussites. Surely, his wagon formation would have been unstoppable... Archer could only feel his victory assured with his hands on the rifle.

It seemed that now was the time where formalities would end, and the war would begin in earnest, however. Seeing his Master quickly pack up and prepare to mobilize, Archer's grin only grew wider in anticipation. In the blink of an eye, Archer had entered spiritual form, and his presence quickly left Giovanni's.

Luck? Pfft... I'm sorry, gypsy, but I'm going to have to disagree with whatever it was your cards told you about me. I didn't win my battles with good fortune. I won them with my head, my heart, and my superior firepower!

As Archer boasted to his Master, he quickly darted around the district's outskirts, maintaining his range advantage as much as possible. As much as he thrived in such a battle, Archer knew he would easily be at a disadvantage if the fight started in melee, especially with another Knight-class Servant. Class differences aside, Archer knew that his enemies would likely be freaks of nature, humans that have far surpassed the limits of their kind. It was only expected, after all, in this war between legends.

It didn't take too long for Archer to quickly catch wind of another Servant, a young man in all black. His class container was suited towards scouting, after all. As eager he was to test out his new weapon, Archer knew he needed to take every advantage he could against his opponent. Taking shape atop the hills and with enough trees to take cover behind, Archer took aim, a couple of hundred meters away from his target.

As much as Archer praised the AK-47, it did have a few shortcomings to it, with one of it being its effective range. At the same time, Archer was also aware of the weapon's exact range of effectiveness, feeling just comfortable enough to utilize it in such a fashion. It wasn't like he planned to stay at such a distance for too long, either. Instead, it was a suitable place to... introduce himself to his first opponent of the war.

Three single-fire shots fired from Archer's rifle, flying towards the direction of the Servant in black. As shots fired at long range with a medium-range armament and with no particular vital target in mind, they simply served as a declaration of battle, the first shots of the Holy Grail War. At the same time, they weren't warning shots, but truly attacks made with the intention of hitting their opponent. Despite being a weapon Archer had just picked up from some street corner, his rifle possessed the same speed and power as expected of a Servant's general armaments, an effect brought forth by one of his skills.

Archer fully expected his opponent to be able to deal with these shots. If he were truly fighting other heroes, then such a low-effort attack would mean nothing, after all. All Archer really cared about was how his opponent would deal with them. He awaited their reply, his smoking barrel and the light of his cigarette easily giving his position away.

---

On principle, the use of modern weapons against a Servant was an exercise in futility.

Discounting the fundamental differences between attacking body of ether and one of flesh and blood for the sake of argument, even the weakest had reached a point beyond humanity, so weapons crafted by humans to kill humans falling short was the only natural outcome.

As soon as the shots were fired however — no, as soon as he saw his enemy and his weapon of choice, Saber threw away such concepts and drew his sword on instinct.

Tizona flashed — a black blade to accompany his ensemble, but lacking in luster. Though it retained its sharp edge and fine craftsmanship, the coloring was dull and resembled more what should be found in a hunk of burnt metal.

But, well, that is why he had named it so in the first place. Transitioning from a run to a dead stop almost instantly, Saber's sword was swung without pause in three arcs, flowing from one to the next without a single wasted movement.

The bullets that had been fired from that gun were much too quick and much too strong — certainly outside of what it should've been possible considering its "specs", and his opponent's aim was true. A single one would have been certain death against a man, to say nothing of three.

—However, Saber was still the Heroic Spirit of the Sword.

Three shots, three rings as they impacted against Tizona and were cleanly deflected away from Saber. The young man stared at his quarry from across their battlefield, able to make him out despite the rapidly approaching night.

"—You got a real funny way of greeting people, friend!" He laughed, putting on an easy smile. "This normal for you or am I a special case?"

At the same time, Archer and — should he be looking in through him — his Master probably felt it.

Something emanated from Saber. It could not be called "bloodlust", and neither was it some form of magic that altered the senses or mind. It was just Saber's own presence, larger than it had any right to be and only now fully noticeable since he had properly focused it toward an "opponent".

It was the same trait that had caused a lion to cower before him with a glance.

That said, though it would surely intimidate a normal human, even a lion was little more than a kitten compared to a Servant, so Archer himself was unlikely to feel much more than slightly on edge at the absolute worst.

He just wanted to see how he reacted, in other words. That said—

"Should I assume you've prepared to make sure nobody interrupts?" He continued talking without missing a beat, as if discussing the weather instead of a possible fight to the death. "It'd be pretty bad if people turned up and got involved in the matter, y'know? What if they hear your shooting and call the police?"

His banter seemed friendly, and his expression certainly appeared open, but—

It did not quite match how he looked around the battlefield and back towards Archer, analyzing possible approaches and potential cover in case it was necessary, as well as measuring the distance and current situation.

Though his speed fell short of those who were declared the "fastest", crossing this distance would be trivial under most circumstances. But the fundamental issue was that Saber naturally favored close quarters combat and he was being pitted against someone who appeared to be the exact opposite. Saber would only be in "range" when his extended sword-arm was enough to reach Archer's neck, but up until then he would be forced to defend himself without being able to retaliate against attacks.

In simpler terms—

'—Shit. Someone annoying showed up.'

---

---

Avenger observed her master as they roamed the streets. She still wasn't sure what to make of the girl. Just barely a woman by the standards of modern society and yet so cold, at least so far. Perhaps they would open to each other as the war progressed, but currently there wasn't much to be said between them, no spark of understanding, yet. Avenger would need to provoke a rise in her master, something to make the mask slip.

The girl was not what she was here for though. Turning from her master, Avenger took in the sights around her. Restraunts, clubs, people, and faces, all these things surrounded them. Avenger was not materialized at the moment, as she would certainly draw eyes. This allowed her to move through the streets without drawing attention, allowed her to observe the people on the streets and in the windows. If there was no combat to be joined today, then she could certainly find a snack here.

Finally, Avenger returned her attention to her master. "Do you sense any of the others? I want to test the other servants, to taste their power for myself. What say you? Should we go higher or move to another district and try our luck there?"

@Phonic (Open invitation to others)

---

---

Ilya's eyes were locked on Berserker, her focus almost too entirely trapped on him as she stared him down, that hot blood continuing to pump through her veins, drowning out all other sound...until she heard the other Master speak.


The small girl next to Berserker was not to be looked over. Ilya was preparing herself for the thrill of fight, but that almost came at the cost of forgetting to protect her young Master. Red and blue irises suddenly shifting to lock on the girl, Ilya realized immediately what the other Master had been able to figure out. That very last question made her deduction apparent, and the girl focusing on Ilya's Master put the Lancer on edge.

Ilya, of course, was used to her Master's childish ways and pure-hearted behavior by now, but by no means did that mean she was prepared to see the young boy confidently stride forward, even extending his hand in good sportsmanship! Whether it was the difference in height or Ilya's impressive speed did not matter, but before Kelemen could finish his approach towards the girl and the Berserker, there she was, standing in front of him - and effectively cutting him off.

"Now now, little Miss! What makes you ask such a question? My Master over here is obviously aware of the situation!" She could feel the slight cold chill in her spine over the lie. Despite that, she did not desire for this other Master to come to realize the naivety of Kelemen. She wanted to protect him, to keep from learning the horrid dark truths of this war they were participating in. Sure, it was a risky gamble, but Ilya found herself leaning further towards protecting the young mind of her Master as opposed to the opposite.

And so, she continued. Leaning forwards slightly, a dangerous gleam sparkled in her eye, a mischievous grin sharpened on her face, and that same intimidating aura from before began to roll off her body. "You see, not only is my Master perfectly cognizant, he's also so confident in himself and me to approach you without a care in the world out of a show of good sport! Truly, such an overzealous boy."

She knew she had to speed this along. She had to get Kelemen out of there. As friendly as Ilya could be at her core, as ready for a fight as her soul may be, she had one desire that overshadowed it all. Her sheer devotion to protect those she cares for.

"So, now that we have what could pass for as much of an introduction as most will get, I have to ask - what do you want from us?"

---

_{Adressing @ShadowKingman @Mr President @AThousandCurses}

Adina's stomach sank at the boy's reaction. Of course, she knew in the back of her mind that it was still wholly possible the other magus was far older than their appearance let on, but his tone, the way he carried himself, everything told her that it wasn't some sort of facade. He was leaving obvious openings, he hadn't even opened his Magic Circuits, and he was entering ground where she could kill him with a thought even if he was more powerful than her. Whether by her instincts or a simple analysis of the facts, everything pointed to this being an actual child.

Was he the chosen representative of a family? What sort of family would send a child to a war? Could he have stumbled into this somehow? But, how shoddy would the summoning system need to be to permit that?

It was fortunate that the other Servant had stepped in when she did, at least. If she hadn't, Berserker's jaws might have snapped around his neck before she could tell him to stop.

"...you're really lucky, Kelemen." The words were faint, audible but only just. Even if he did know what he was doing, she couldn't stomach the idea of allowing a child who probably didn't even understand to march into an early grave. There was no magical authority in this region she could direct him to, nor could she afford to ally with him- she would have enough trouble protecting herself from Berserker, let alone someone else. And if she just left him alone? Then the scene in front of her would repeat with someone else in her place, and if it did...

"Most of the Masters here would have killed you when you started walking over, you know."

At the end of the day, he said that he was here to compete in the Holy Grail War, and his Servant echoed that sentiment, but his actions did not mirror that. Someone here to fight in a war did not walk towards an enemy with their guard down. His Servant said that he was aware of what was going on, but that hardly seemed to be the case. So then, what-

"...you know, then. You're a Servant, you know what this war is and you know how unaware he is, and you didn't tell him."

A glance was spared over to the other woman, the Servant. The radiance she gave off was befitting of a hero, something entirely different from the all-consuming hunger of her own Servant, a power that could crush Adina with ease. The sounds leaving her body, most of them forte, was enough to verify that much. It was something reminiscent of the stories she'd been told about the great Ancestors, the will that flowed through her when she channeled those old dreams. And yet, rather than fear or awe, she felt disgust.

"Is it because you know that if he knew what he has to do and have done to him in this, he wouldn't compete? Do you really want your wish so badly that you'd put a kid in harm's way to have a shot at it?" A pause, breath hitching up as a hand balled up into a fist at her side. She didn't understand it herself, why she was so riled up by this, but-

A girl, made to walk alongside death from the moment she could speak, as had already been ordained by another.

"...don't bother answering. If you're supposed to be a hero, you should have killed yourself once you realized who your Master was, so he didn't have to participate in a death match. You'd have removed yourself from the war, so a kid wouldn't be a target. But apparently I'm expecting too much."

Her eyes flitted back down to the boy, now behind the Servant, as she let out a small sigh. A song she had never learned filled her mind, as she felt that familiar pain lance through her, magical energy starting to flow. In spite of it, her expression shifted, brightening back up as a smile slid back onto her face.

"Anyway, nice to meet you, Kelemen! I'm Adina. No hard feelings, but I'm a little mad at your partner right now. It's probably a good idea if you step away from her a bit, cause I don't want you to get caught in the crossfire. Maybe just walk back but don't quite leave the Bounded Field, alright?"

Her tone, which had softened for a moment, froze back over as she returned her attention to the Servant. Her own partner could doubtlessly feel it through their connection- anger, disbelief, and something else buried under the two. Perhaps Berserker would be excited; it was clear that he was about to be given permission to strike out. But, not yet. Just a little bit longer, because-

"Hey, give me a reason why I shouldn't kill you now to get him out of the war, before he bumps into someone more willing to slaughter a kid. You've got one shot, make it persuasive."