The Grail Games IC

Payne - Museum

Lancer's face only displayed confusion when she followed Logan's explanation. "Why?" was the only word she uttered after going through the turnstile.

However, this was quite soon forgotten when they entered the wing with the featured exhibit on roman history. She glanced around curiously, her fingers tracing the glass of the display cases. Nothing in particular seemed to peak her interest until they came about a map, displaying the extent of the Roman Empire at its highest point.

Lancer stopped, seemingly amazed by the size of it. "I had no idea," she whispered and reached out to touch it.

Jack (Warehouse District)

The town was going completely insane. He looked on at the clean-up crew. They were silent. They weren't questioning what was going on. A gas pipe explosion. That's what it was being covered up as. Jack was sure that if he looked up the city blueprints, there would be no such thing. He was sure of it. Something big was going on in this city. And it involved something that could be confused as an entire length of pipe exploding. He certainly was amazed at the level of destruction. He had only come here to see it, and now he was regretting it.

As he turned away, his phone rang. It was Twitch. "Hello Jack. I've got the news. As you expected, there is no such gas line. Unfortunately, the only name And that news you brought in... it seems to be true enough. The police force is having a time dealing with all of the kids and dealers that they have time for nothing else. Even Sam is working his ass off."

Jack just sighed. "The inseperable pair separated, huh? I still can't believe it. Thugs and worse just flat out told the information they had. And it was practically nothing. ... I know they're just using me to dig up information for themselves. But..." Silence. Twitch responded. "Do you really want to know the truth that badly Jack? Even if you die?

Jack just looked up at the sky. "Maybe. Maybe I don't care what's going on here. I could just be looking for a place to die." The silence only got stronger, and Jack ended the call first. "Or I could just be looking for a place to live." The man who had too little could only continue staring at the blue expanse above.



The Demon King: Berserker (Warehouse #3)

There were no furnishings this time around. Meira simply stood in place, using her sheathed sword for support. The two were hidden away in a corner of the warehouse where an odd inspector came in now and then. He of course, saw nothing but the warehouse. "We provoke them. Go ahead and look around to see if there isn't a Servant nearby. Maybe cause a little ruckus. Cause a few accidents. Slowly expand our perceived territory so we have more workroom.

...Or we could simply just wait."

She, of course, did not needed to say that she would stay here alone. He wouldn't be too far away.

Noin - Museum

Logan merely shook his head at her question. "They want to make sure that people paid to get in. It's how they make the money to maintain the exhibits, and it's also a good way to know who's inside in case something is stolen."

He'd honestly wondered why she'd wanted to come into this museum in the first place, but as she ran her fingers over the display of the Roman empire, he winced in realization. This had been why. She'd wanted to know what had happened in history after her passing.

"It was quite impressive in its day." Logan said, standing behind her and off to the side. "And there are many who believe that much of the organized world would still be in chaos if it hadn't spread as far as it did. Despite the horrific things they did, the Romans also brought order to the world, something it greatly needed..."

Payne - Museum

"Oh yeah?" she snapped at him. "Did they ever talk about what those, they brought order to, thought?" Her eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms, clearly not agreeing with what Logan said. She made a disdainful sound and moved on to the next room.

She meant to just brush through it, but something in the corner caught her attention once again and she stepped towards it. When she realized what it was, her suddenly took a more open and vulnerable look. It was a collection of coins and torcs made from gold and bronze, collected from occupied territories of the Romans in Europe.

Involuntarily, her hand moved to her neck.

"This is our wealth, love," his gentle voice whispered in her ear. "And it will take care of you, our children and our people after I am gone." There was a slight  worry in her voice when Lancer replied. "If only I could trust their word as much as you do."
His hand lifted one of the gold torcs and placed it around her neck. "Don't forget who you are meant to be, even after I'm gone…"

…

Lancer stood alone on the hill, her eyes fixed on the graves before her. Her daughters, her beautiful daughters. Before any sound could escape her lips, she bit down on them. No, she had to be strong. Strong for her people. Yes, she would show them.

Flashes of what her daughters had endured ran through her mind. The memory so strong, images were projected at Logan without her consciously doing it.

When she realized, her hand was still at her neck, she dropped it and let it hang by her side. It snapped her out of it and she took a step back, letting her eyes wander over the other items on display.

Noin - Museum

Logan didn't flinch at Lancer's tone when she snapped back at him. He'd expected that reaction from her for the most part, but it didn't change his views on the matter. The Romans had been bastards of the first order, but they had also helped unify the world as they now knew it.

Then, the memories hit him. There was a sting against his flesh, and he realized that he was naked. No, that wasn't exactly right. Logan was no longer himself. These were Lancer's memories. Her arms pulled against the chains that bound her to the post driven into the ground as another lash fell on her back, but both the weight of the chains and the sting of the whip were at the back of her mind. All of her focus lay instead on the two women a few yards away. Like her, they were also chained, also naked, but they bore no strikes from the whip that so easily parted her skin. Their torture was of a different nature. One after another, Roman soldiers stepped forward to violate them, to touch them against their will, to penetrate them. Something clouded her vision, and Logan realized that tears were flowing down her cheeks, not for herself, but for her daughters. Even that brought no reprive though. Although blinded by her tears, she could still hear their tormented screams, meshed together with the sound of the whip falling over her shoulders.

As he came back into his own mind, Logan's expression had gone black, and several of the people standing nearby were edging away from him. Pure wrath dripped from his eyes as he stared at the artifacts on the wall in front of him, a wrath that wasn't his own, but at the same time, had taken over him. Was this how she felt all the time? He couldn't say he blamed her for it, but how did she still smile so easily?

"You've a stronger soul than anyone I've ever met my friend..." Logan finally said when he was sure that his words wouldn't come out as a growl.

Payne - Museum

Logan's voice pulled Lancer from her thoughts and she turned to look at him. "Thanks." For a second her eyes were full of pain, the same pain he'd been seeing in her memories. Then she blinked and it was gone, only the brightness left in her eyes.

One look in Logan's eyes told her everything. "You saw all that, didn't you?" she asked when she already knew the answer. "Sorry," she said. "I never meant for that to happen." Apparently the connection between them was stronger than she anticipated.

Finally she broke off eye contact and turned around to look at something else. For the next few rooms she was quiet, simply walking through. Eventually she stopped in front of a miniature temple. "You see this?" she asked without looking at him. "This is a temple built to commemorate the person who wiped out the majority of my culture and religion, everything we believed in," her voice took a snide tone, revealing how much aversion she still felt.

Vacant House

"I'm not going back."

The teacup lay shattered on the floor where Ro had dropped it. The brown liquid seeped across the floor, pooling about his shoes, but Ro paid it no mind. He was staring at his sister, hoping he had somehow heard wrong.

"I'm not going back, Ro. I can't," Shiyan said quietly, looking away from him. Without her makeup forming a familiar mask, she seemed to weary and tired. But she was determined - it was evident in her eyes.

"Why, Shiyan? Why?" he demanded, crunching china shards beneath his feet as he moved to her side and crouched to his knees, grasping her pale hand.

"She took my Servant, Ro. She took my place, my honor, my respect, my dignity. She took everything from me. I can't leave without a fight," Shiyan said quietly. "I'll get Berserker back. I'll win this yet."

This resolution would end in death; Ro felt sure of it. Why would she not escape? Leave it all? The respect of a magus meant nothing to the dead.

"Sister, please..." he begged, gripping her hand more insistently, but she stood and pulled it from his grasp.

"Go back home, Ro. You've done enough."

The words felt like icy water down his spine. She was going to send him away now, without her? After all he'd gone through?

"I'm not leaving," he growled. "I'm staying right here."

For the first time, Shiyan seemed unsure of herself. She had not expected this loyalty and defiance.

"Ro-"

"No. If you're so determined to win, then I'll help you. We'll take down that devil woman together," Ro declared firmly. Shiyan looked away, sighing, before nodding slowly.

Ro departed to the kitchen to make another cup of tea while Shiyan slowly sank back into her chair, looking pale.

"Oh, Ro..."

--------------------

Gedo - Warehouse

The Demon Lord seemed to content to remain in one place, not willing to give any particular direction on how to proceed. Was it indecision or simply indifference? Berserker was not quite sure.

"I'll await your orders," Berserker said, unwilling to take matters into his own hand. Although he was eager to challenge more Servants, he grasped strategy well enough to know that fighting on their own territory was far more advantageous. Besides, their enemies would come to them. It was only a matter of time.

Strange. In the gap of conversation, Berserker found himself wondering about something he'd never had a chance to ask Meira before...

"Why did you let her go?" he asked abruptly, turning his red eyes toward his Master. "That girl you petrified."

The Demon King
 
She had the bare recognition of what he was talking about. She only knew of whom he spoke. Shiyan Fu. She had been petrified by the previous owner of this body. And let go. Beyond that, there was no information. Everything was factual. The woman she had been before did not even have her own profile. The Demon King did not even know that woman's name. ... Or did she?
 
"Shiyan Fu. That woman was supposed to be your Master. The woman who sacrificed herself to summon me... all I can say is that she petrified that Shiyan Fu instead of killing her. The same reason she did is the same reason she let her go. Now, I have a question. The one who summoned you. The one who was your Master in this war. The one you see everytime you look at me. What was her name?"
 
It was clear at this point that the change he had witnessed was more than just personality. She had forgotten herself. Even her own name. In that dream... of course she had heard it. The mother calling out her child's name as a last resort to prevent death. But that was only her first name. And the only name her Mother knew. It could have been changed, a long time ago. The Demon King did not personally care. It was just annoying how much of a mystery her previous self had been. To not even have a full name...
 
But Meira Franz, planning these events from the start, had introduced herself as the Demon King. She had not made any introduction. She had never told Berserker her own name. She had entitled every piece of information about her being to the one friend she had: Shiyan Fu.

Noin - Museum

"Yeah, I saw it." Logan responded softly. "But I'm glad I did, because if not for that, I know you never would have told me. I won't ask you to explain anything though. Your memories are your own unless you choose to share them." His expression was pained, but his words were sincere. He knew what a mind in anguish felt like. Of course he would. He lived in one. How she managed to put it behind her was beyond him though...

He followed her through the rooms in silence, not wishing to break her concentration. After seeing into her past, he didn't wish to interfere with her curiosity. Perhaps he hadn't wanted to come on this trip, but now he understood why it had been necessary for her.

She paused in front of a display, and Logan looked at it over her shoulder. Her words said more than the display did though, and he found himself wondering how she'd react if she knew what he knew. He would have to tell her sometime, but not here, not now. There were too many people around, and he couldn't be sure how the conversation would go. It would be better to have it somewhere away from watchful eyes.

"And yet here you are..." He said, reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder. "A testament to the fact that you existed, that your people existed. Your religion may be different than my own, but I know without a shadow of a doubt that you were a woman with the good of the people in your heart."

Payne - Museum to Yacht

Logan's hand on her shoulder felt oddly comforting and she did nothing to shrug it off. "I just wish that all these people didn't have to die…" she said and glanced at the miniature temple one more time. "It didn't have to be this way," she paused. "Or maybe it did."

With a shrug she stepped away from the display case and looked around the room. "This is the last room, I've seen all I need," Lancer said. "Let's go." There was a note of finality in her voice and she turned around to leave.

Once outside, the sparkle returned to her eyes. And the further away they walked from the museum, the more her mood seemed to increase, evident by the way she was walking. She suddenly stopped when they passed an ice cream parlor and she looked at it curiously.

"I know I said I don't need to eat, but I want to try this," Lancer said. "It looks...odd" Glancing over the different kinds, she looked helplessly at Logan. "What's your favorite?"

Noin - Streets to Yacht

Logan only nodded when Lancer said that she was done at the museum, and the two of them made their way back to the exit in silence. He didn't want to intrude upon her thoughts right now. Clearly, Lancer had a lot to reflect on.

As they moved further from the museum, her expression improved though, and Logan couldn't help wondering once more how she put it all behind her. His thoughts were disturbed when he realized that Lancer had come to a stop though. Logan's eyes drifted to the ice cream parlor and then back to Lancer. "Of all the things to want to eat..." He said, rolling his eyes. "What are you? A kid?"

He reached out to open the door for her though, and motioned her inside the parlor. "My favorite is Lemon." Logan responded to her question, and he pointed to one of the flavors. "But today, I'm not in the mood for it. So, I'll probably have coffee instead. Since you've never had it before, I'd suggest trying the basic flavors though."

Logan motioned the woman behind the counter over and gave her his order. "I'd like two scoops of coffee, and my friend here would like a scoop each of vanilla and chocolate." The woman dipped out what he'd asked for, and Logan paid her before handing Lancer her cup.

"Can you eat and walk at the same time?" Logan asked as they stepped out of the parlor, but he'd already started walking towards the yacht, making it obvious he knew the answer.

Payne - Museum to Yacht

Lancer stuck out her tongue at Logan when he questioned first her maturity and then her ability to do two things at once.

"Of course I can walk and eat at the same time," she replied and caught up to him as they walked towards the yacht. As if to prove it, she stuck the spoon in the ice cream and proceeded to try it. When the taste spread in her mouth, she automatically slowed down to a stop.

Her expression conveyed pure surprise, but she seemed to enjoy it because she quickly ate another spoonful. "This is amazing," she commented and started walking again.

Soon they reached the yacht and Lancer sat on the deck to enjoy the rest of her ice cream.

Kaiserpfalz

Calisa inspected the magic crest upon her arm, eyes narrowed analytically. She knew Caster was watching her intently, studying her reaction to the transference, but it didn't seem to bother her anymore.

It was strange, really... Her desire for freedom, on the surface, had seemed to be only about escaping the Lannisters. After all, she'd even developed her own type of magecraft. But when she thought about it - forced herself to truly examine the situation - it had been more than that. She hadn't wanted the life of a magus at all. She hadn't wanted to be forced onto a path with no say about the direction life was taking her.

And yet, here she was now, bearing the Lannister family's magic crest. Well, there was no other choice. They'd surely want to hunt her down now - with their heir dead, their name in ruins, and Clocktower's chance of glory lost in a fleeting night. She would need these spells to defend herself.

"Ah, you have a true Master now, Caster," Assassin purred from his perch, watching Caster and Calisa with a curious interest. That was another thing that had changed. The horrible apparition that had frightened her so badly upon his first appearance no longer stirred her. After all, they weren't so different, it seemed. Both monsters...

"Isn't that right, Logan? Raphael?" she murmured, lowering her arm and staring out the window at the changing colors of the sky.

"I should return to my Master," Assassin said, scuttling for the exit and perching like a hideous bat on the window will. "I need to ensure that his suspicions are not aroused."

Calisa did not speak as he departed. There was no need. Instead, she stood and departed from the room to move into the ruins. She would need to practice if she wanted to get adjusted to the crest. And with the first Servant fallen, she felt sure things would begin to pick up quickly. There wasn't much time.

Noin - Yacht

Logan chuckled a little at Lancer's response to his accusations, and when she came to a sudden stop, he turned raising an eyebrow at her. "I knew walking and eating at the same time was beyond you." He rasped teasingly before turning to continue towards the yacht.

As they settled back into the cabin, Logan tossed his empty ice cream cup in the trash and leaned against the counter with a sigh. He didn't want to muddle Lancer's mood, particularly after earlier, but she needed to know.

"You remember what I told you about my mission, about why I'm really here." It wasn't a question. She would be well aware of it, since it had been a rather serious discussion. "I have to apologize." He continued, looking in her direction. "The religion that I serve is one of the reasons why much of your culture has been lost throughout the ages."

Payne - Yacht

Lancer threw her ice cream cup away and stood up when Logan began talking. Her expression, that had been so cheerful a moment ago, darkened noticeably.

"You can't apologize for the horrible things the Romans have done centuries ago," she said and averted her gaze from him to the ocean. "It won't change anything."

Her eyes were dark and she gripped the counter tightly. Suddenly she relaxed again, her shoulders dropping and she sat back down. "I can't hold you responsible for what they did, Logan," Lancer said, her voice sounding almost defeated as if she had tried and failed. "History took its course and even if I killed you now, I can't turn back time." She paused, running her fingers through her hair to calm herself.

"Still, I don't like it. Your connection with them," she said finally, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Why?" It was a simple question and she watched Logan with her bright eyes.

Noin - Yacht

"Perhaps I should explain myself better..." Logan said, taking a seat across the cabin from Lancer. "I'm not trying to take responsibility for what the Romans did. Being who you are, I'm sure you understand that there are often many layers that make up a culture. The religion I serve, the Vatican, or the Roman Catholic Church as it is sometimes called, was not originally part of Roman culture."

He paused for a moment, as if unsure of how much he really wanted to say. "In some ways, the founders of our religion were even more devious than the Romans themselves. Our beliefs were seeded into the Roman culture just as it was nearing its peak, and we used their power, and their weakness, to spread that religion. History rarely speaks of it that way, but the Vatican originally existed as something like a parasite, feeding off of the various peoples that the Romans conquered. And just like any other parasite, it caused harm. The bits and pieces of the previous cultures were wiped away as our influence spread. It was a way of maintaining control, even after the Romans themselves fell to the trials of time."

"The Vatican was already too strong at that point though, rooted too deeply in cultures everywhere." Logan looked almost disgusted as the words poured from his mouth, but when he was finished, he simply looked tired.

"I cannot say why it was the will of the Father that cultures such as your own be wiped out. The scriptures say that our God is a jealous God. So, perhaps it was the founders' way of proving that He was higher than all others... I have devoted my life to following the Father's teachings, wherever it is possible, and yet I find that I have failed so often in His eyes. Maybe how I see myself is not so different from how you would see Him though..."

Gedo - Warehouse
 
Berserker's brows furrowed at the Demon King's response. Petrifying rather than killing... releasing instead of imprisoning... Was she implying that...?
 
"My Master?" Berserker murmured, surprised by the question. Had she forgotten even the name of the one she'd once been? Was there really nothing left?
 
"I don't know," he admitted, feeling a bit remorseful of that fact. He should have know the name of the person he had sworn to follow.

--------------------

Docks

"Master."

Assassin appeared in the corner of the dark room, lit only dimly by a few rays peeping past the blinds tightly shut to the tiny domicile on the docks. Eames gave no response to his Servant's arrival, his fingers preoccupied with tracing the pattern of the Command Spell tattooed into his flesh.

"Master-?"

"Tell me, Assassin, where have you been?" Eames murmured softly, his back to Assassin. The Servant shifted slightly, perplexed by the sudden questioning.

"In the city, Master. Spying. It seems Berserker's victory over Rider has made the other Masters more wary of approach," he reported. There was a pregnant pause.

"Why are you lying to me, Assassin?"

"Master..?"

"I've been following your movements with one of my familiars, Assassin," Eames said without facing the skull-masked Servant. "You were at Kaiserpfalz. Why?"

"I-"

"You've been making a secret alliance with Caster, haven't you?"

Thick, heavy silence. Assassin shifted uncomfortably, wondering if there was any point to denying it. Instead, he decided to come clean.

"Yes," he hissed, hunching closer to the ground. "I was growing tired with your inactivity. It seemed-"

There was a flash of red light and a sound like a tinkle of shattered glass as the Command Spell on Eames hand activated. Assassin was suddenly hurled back against the wall with a shuddering crash, a gasp wrenched from his throat. Then, as though grasped by invisible hands, he was pulled upward to smash against the ceiling, then plummeted to the ground, his bones crunching ominously with each blow. He was then ricocheted off several walls before being tossed unceremoniously into the old desk in the corner. The Servant collapsed to a heap, broken wood from the desk and bits of drywall showering down on him as he groaned.

Eames was breathing heavily, his chest heaving as he struggled to maintain control. But it was useless - the euphoria of taking out his rage on Assassin was blinding all of his senses in a blissful fog. A smile parted his lips before he began to laugh richly, running a hand through his silky hair.

Assassin moved slowly, disentangling himself from the wreckage, poised for any sudden moves. But Eames was walking toward him with an easy, casual gait, his smile broad and his eyes alight with excitement.

"You know, Assassin, I think you're right," he said, grasping the skull mask and tilting it upward. "I've been far too inactive. We owe it to ourselves to have a little fun, right?"

Assassin said nothing, his body tensed in alarm at the sudden transformation. But no, it wasn't surprising. He should have expected this. After all, what other man would be drawn to him...

"We can't have all the spectators and competitors forgetting we're in this too. So let's give them a show they won't forget."

Payne - Yacht

Lancer's expression became hard as Logan's explanation went on. "So what? You want me to feel sorry for you instead?" she asked. "Because you're serving a religion that lives off the weaknesses of others and destroyed countless cultures and you don't like it anymore?"

Her eyes softened a little when she caught his tired expression. "Look, I don't understand why you're trying to hard to blame yourself for this, but it's gotta stop. All that matters to me, are the decisions you make now. What you did before neither affected nor interests me," her voice was firm, but gentle and she kept her eyes on Logan.

"You see, I don't care. I have my religion and you have yours. As long as you don't try to enforce their ways onto me, we will keep getting along. The past should stay in the past," she added and stood up and lifted her finger. "And don't give me all that crap about that we should learn from the past. There's a difference between learning from it and dwelling on it to the point of self-pity." She crossed her arms, a clear sign that her view on this was final.

Noin - Yacht

Logan blanched at Lancer's words, and before he could respond to her initial accusations, she cut him off with more, invalidating any argument before he could make it.

For several moments after she had finished, he just sat there in stunned silence, unable to take his eyes off of hers. He felt like a kid who'd just been lectured by his mother, and for some reason, he found the mental image very amusing.

"My religion is for the living." Logan finally said with a weak smile. "So, it's a bit late for me to be trying to press it on you. I do want to clear up one misconception of yours though. The Father doesn't live off of peoples' weakness, rather, He grants strength to the weak. Instead, it is the strong that He brings to their knees."

He pushed himself from his seat to stand opposite Lancer, and for a moment, the air in the room seemed heavier. If he was an affectionate person, Logan might have given her a hug, but he wasn't. So, he settled for the next best thing.

"Thank you... For hearing me out, and for holding no grudges."

Payne - Yacht

Lancer shrugged. "Well according to history not all that serve Him seem to think that way," she said. There was a moment of silence between them when Logan also stood up and they looked at each other. Before it could become awkward, Logan spoke again.

"Grudges are for those who can't forgive," she said and stepped over to the window to look at the setting sun. "I'll leave you to your thoughts," Lancer said and turned around to smile at him a genuinely warm smile. "Call me if you need me."

And with that she disappeared from sight as she took on her spirit form.

Church

Spoiler:

The first had fallen.

This should have been encouraging to Raphael. It meant that the Games were truly underway now, and would be finished quickly if God was merciful.

But instead, the priest only found it disturbing. It was Rider's spirit, not Berserker's, that had returned. The Lannister magus had seemed a fool to attempt an attack on Berserker alone, but Raphael had hoped that it might work out. Instead, Berserker and his Master had received an opportunity to flaunt their power and further exacerbate the situation. No doubt every magi faction was enraged by all this, particularly Clocktower. And as a result, the Church would be sure to attempt to alleviate this pressure...

...by pressing down on him.

Sighing, Raphael unlocked the doors leading down into the bowels of the church. With the return of a Servant's soul, he would need to ensure that the vessel that housed it was safe.

The passage leading down was dark and damp, the air seeming to smother him as he descended. His footsteps echoed in the silence, and he wondered why he felt the urge to move as softly as possible, as though treading into the lair of a slumbering beast.

When he reached the bottom, he allowed his eyes to adjust to the change in lighting before he took in the room.

It had been recreated exactly as the room in the Einzburn castle. A series of concentric magic circles were engraved on the surface, iron pegs embedded into specific symbols. Lengths of heavy chains were attached to them, leading up to the homunculus in the middle, to which they were bound. Raphael found the thing repulsive, its form disturbingly subhuman. But as he looked more closely, he noticed that subtle changes had occurred.

The flat pads where the hands and feet should have been had taken a more defined shape, and fingers and toes were now present emerging from them. The once featureless face now contained holes where ears and mouth could be, covered by a transparent membrane.

But most noticeable were the eyes. They had emerged from out of nothing, milky white and unseeing, covered in a thin film. The lifeless stare from them at the ceiling gave Raphael a violent shudder. It had gone from repulsive to hateful. He couldn't stand to look at it a moment longer.

Turning swiftly away, Raphael headed back up the stairs, not caring how much sound he made now. Once he had reached the light of day and barred the doors shut, he waited for the unsettling crawl beneath his skin to abate.

But it didn't. By second nature, his feet carried him to the altar in the chapel, where he sank to his knees in prayer. With his forehead pressed to the ground, Raphael finally released a breath, willing the peace of the Spirit to fill him.

"Father in Heaven, what have I witnessed?"

Transition - Day X

Vacant house

Shiyan Fu had been reborn.

The reflection in the mirror showed the elegant painted face, accenting the high cheek bones and the curve of her jaw. The long lashes were delicate and framed the colored eyelids. Her lovely figure was garbed in a costly kimono that accentuated her form. She was a beautiful sight, equal parts dazzling and bold.

If only she felt so bold. Inside, Shiyan knew she would never be the same magus who had set out for the Grail Games. Too much had happened. Too much had changed in her. All because of her...

"Are you sure about this?" Ro asked her, standing by as she finished setting her ornately styled hair. Even if she was damaged inside, she had to appear perfect and in control outside.

"It's the only way," Shiyan insisted. "Father spoke highly of him. He's the only one I'd be able to trust."

That wasn't entirely accurate; it was more like he was the only one she could accurately predict. But there was no sense in explaining that. Ro would never understand anyway.

"Well, let's get it over with then," Ro huffed impatiently, moving to the door. Shiyan lingered for a moment, trying to resolve the mask she was observing to what she felt inside, before turning and following after him.

It was time to pay Dowth a visit.

[OOC: Let me know if you guys have daytime plans. I have nighttime plans for the Lancer and Berserker factions, but not much for them in the way of daytime activities. The day-related posts I have are to set up things, so I can pace them however I need to in order to accomodate you (hell, I can even make them take place at night, since the time isn't particularly relevant for them). So let me know. If we do make it night right away, I'll just push it back to the previous night, since there's no sense in jumping to night of the next day otherwise.]

Noin - Yacht

The wind over the harbor whipped Logan's coat through the air behind him as he stood on the deck of the Yacht, overlooking the city. Somewhere in that city there was still one Master that hadn't been located. HIs thoughts hadn't been on the contest throughout the night though. Instead, he'd been reflecting on Lancer's memories, and on her resolve following his experiencing them. She truly was stronger than he'd originally realized. It was somewhat humbling to be in the presence of someone who had lost so much, and yet somehow continued to see the best in people. Maybe that's why she had become his Servant though...

His gaze drifted to the port, where Jayce had caused a stir a few days before. Eames might have been there before, but given the nature of his Servant, it was doubtful he would stay there. Instead, he was probably already moved into a new workshop. The space in the city was limited though. To avoid too much contact with the other Masters, the only good place for a workshop would be near the one Logan had abandoned when Archer found it. That would be the best place to start looking...

"It's time to go hunting again..." Logain said as he re-entered the cabin and moved to the controls. "Or maybe it will be fishing instead." He continued with a chuckle.

Payne - Yacht, Pier

"Are we there yet?" Lancer asked and stood up when she heard Logan come into the cabin. That they had slowed down, was a clear indication they were reaching the port and she followed him on deck to leave the yacht.

"You have any idea where you want to start looking? Or who in particular you want to look for?" she asked once they were on the pier. Lancer stared off to the city center where the high rise buildings made for a blinding contrast to the bright sunlight.

Then she pointed towards the city center. "I like that part of town, we can start there," she suggested.

City Hall

"Miss Fu, it's such a welcome surprise to hear from you," Dowth said politely as he escorted Shiyan into the room. Ro made a motion as if to follow them in, but Dowth shut the door on him before he had a chance. Dowth placed his lips politely to the back of Shiyan's pale hand before indicating one of the chairs in the room. Shiyan moved gracefully to it and lowered herself into it slowly before Dowth seated himself across from her.

"I had feared the worst when this usurper reared her terrible head," the elderly magus said with a sympathetic shake of his head. "But you must tell me, how did you survive all this?"

Shiyan pursed her lips, unsurprised that Dowth would want the story but irritated nonetheless. She waited for Dowth to pour them both cups of tea and took a long sip before allowing herself to speak.

Then she told him everything - about her capture, about Meira Franz, about the imposter Meng Yui. When she had finished, Dowth leaned back, observing her over the tops of his interlocked fingers.

"And I suppose now you seek to reclaim your position as the representative of the Eastern Magi Alliance and the Master of Berserker," he said smoothly, awaiting her response. Shiyan offered him a fleeting smile.

"And you want me to help you in getting your Command Spells back?" Dowth continued. "That is why you came to me with your predicament, yes?"

It was more of a rhetorical question that anything else, so Shiyan didn't bother answering it.

"I simply need you to distract Berserker with your Servant while I deal with Meira myself," she told him. That put Dowth more at ease. Having Saber deal with Berserker was one thing. Challenging that devil woman himself was another...

"Are you really up to the task of confronting her?" Dowth asked, brows furrowed. Considering the woman had bested Shiyan before she'd acquired her Devil's Castles, the odds didn't seem good.

The question was obviously a touchy one. Shiyan's lips thinned perceptively as she merely gave a small nod of her head.

"Very well," Dowth said, getting to his feet. "I will aide you in reclaiming Berserker. However, I think it best to establish some conditions. I propose... a geis."