The sun hung over the sky, the light breeze of noon wafting through Cusco.
In the common day, unmanned aerial vehicles had become a somewhat common existence. All the same, seeing them in one's day-to-day life was a strange occurrence, especially for those who would call themselves magi.
As a result, their appearance could only be called abrupt, as ridiculous an arrival as a familiar kneaded from fantasy.
For those among the Masters of the Holy Grail War who were modern enough to possess cell phones, a text message from a phone number they did not recognize was received. For those who did not, though, they were greeted by something else. Those who had summoned their Servants inside of hotels or apartments received a call from the front desk, informing them that they had a letter dropped off for them. Those who had gone as far as to prepare their own building heard the dull whir of a machine and a knocking sound on the door, and would be greeted with an envelope when they answered it.
Regardless of if they had received it by text message or envelope, each of the Masters who had currently summoned their Servants had received such a message. How the one who coordinated this had found their locations so soon, given that many had only just done said summoning, was certainly up for debate. All the same, the message they had received was also worth giving some attention to.
A location of "Plaza San Francisco" without any additional detail was scrawled onto the back of the message.
So that's how this was going to go, then.
