"So what do we do about that?" said the machine-crow to Caster.
"Against this terror of the ancient world?" said Caster. "We can do nothing."
"Getting the feeling that's your answer for everything," said the crow, scratching its beak.
Caster glanced aside at the creature, eyes heavy above his beard. "It is the answer for everything. That is humanity in its purest form - the sword, the castle, the hate. No matter how high civilization rises it is only ever the froth at the top of the cresting wave, breaking ever more people in its fall."
"Sure," said the crow. "Or it could get just high enough that we could jump off and activate our wing-gliders and soar into the sky. Leave the old system behind, move to a new and better equilibrium."
"In this metaphor, humanity [i]is [/i]the wave," Caster said irritably. "Its own nature -"
"Yeah, I got it," said the crow. "And I'm saying we leave humanity behind."
Caster looked at it pensively.
"What?" said the crow. "I don't mean leave truth and art and beauty and stuff behind. Those things are all human values but I believe they have value beyond that. But mouth ulcers are part of humanity and nobody champions those. Likewise, some people are born without the ability to feel pain or sadness - they still feel enough not to burn themselves or anything, but there are no negative emotions associated with that. Their brain chemistry makes them no-effort saints. People used to insist that society arose from material conditions and class interest, I think it arises from the fact that we haven't built perfect immortal ageless robot bodies yet."
"So how would that philosophy address this monstrosity?" asked Caster after a moment.
"Oh, man, I don't know," said the crow. "That's all kind of the opposite of a perfect robot body, right? I guess prescribe her some SSRIs and see if she can maintain that emotional intensity?"
"No, our course is much simpler," said Caster. "We wait for the battle to begin and then strike and kill the dragon. When Rider manifests she will destroy every other servant - and then I shall kill her."
"Oh, that's great for simplifying the problem," said the machine-crow. "Human psychology is complicated enough without having to account for dragons and foxgirls."

*

Before Avenger's castles are others.

These are not works of fairytale beauty. They are squat and unlovely works of stone, reservoirs of violence and oppression. They are territory claimed and held, an announcement that the new rulers intend to stay for-ever. A sprawling map of dozens and dozens, blocking every path across the landscape. Berserker's Noble Phantasm constricts and thwarts, and every strong point must be purchased with toil or bypassed at the cost of blood. How does this campaign continue in the face of such opposition?