The Grail Games IC

No one seemed particularly distressed to see Logan leave, although allowing him a head-start on his preparations was hardly ideal. Still, appearances were everything, and it was essential that they remain until the end.

"At midnight tonight," Bartomeloi said as he stood, the night drawing to a close, "the Grail Games will officially commence. To all I wish good luck, and may you each do honor to your factions, your families, and to yourselves. And to the victor go the greatest of spoils!"

Those seated all rose from the table, with Raphael exiting first, followed by Eames and Sima. Bartomeloi lingered to speak with Jamie as Dowth left the dining chamber and made his way toward the exit. As he did so, he caught sight of a lovely young woman with red hair moving down the hall toward him. It was enough to make him stop short, staring transfixed at her face. She seemed to misinterpret his look and stopped short, bowing her head.

"My apologies. I thought that the banquet had finished," she said quietly. "I didn't mean to-"

"Your name, my dear?" Dowth said hoarsely. She looked up, seeming a bit puzzled.

"Calisa... Calisa Lannister," she replied, to which he gave a strained smile.

"Ah yes... I thought as much," he whispered. "You look so uncommonly like her."

Calisa gave him a searching look and stepped forward, seeming to struggle with her curiosity.

"Did you know my mother?" she asked tentatively. Neither Jamie nor her father ever seemed particularly interested with discussing her deceased mother, and Calisa had always felt there was something she hadn't quite understood, a secret burden that her mother had always carried with her.

"Oh yes. But that was a long time ago," Dowth answered, giving her a very kindly smile. "Perhaps someday, after this affair is over, I can tell you more about her."

Both knew, but did not acknowledge, that this chance was only one in seven - and that it required her own brother to fail or even die. But it was still a hopefuly promise, and Calisa appreciate the gesture.

"Thank you, sir," she said, smiling.

"Alderic Dowth," he told her, taking her hand and kissing it. "I look forward to seeing you again, my dear."

With that, he turned and strode from the estate, trying to ignore the shaking of his hands.

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

Dowth entered the basement of city hall, his footsteps echoing off the cold stone stairs. It was silent and unmoving, though the air seemed to be thick with expectation. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips fleetingly as he moved with purposeful steps toward the chamber at the far end. His earlier weakness was forgotten, and his mind was now fixed on the present.

He'd had little difficulty setting up this area below and hiding it from prying eyes, like all his activities in the building. It was far too easy to blind the eyes of the ignorant.

Annabelle was already in the room, tracing the last portions of the summoning circle. The smell of blood lingered in the air, though Dowth was far too excited to notice this. With her able to complete the circle while the other Masters had been feasting, Dowth would already have an advantage over them. There was no doubt he would pull the strongest card.

His eyes turned to the precious artifact he'd obtained right under Clocktower's nose, the blood-stained head of a crossbow bolt, and he felt a thrill of anticipation course through every fiber of his being. In mere moments, he would begin the summoning. In mere moments, he would be standing in the presence of power incarnate.

"Grandfather."

Annabelle's voice brought him back to the present, and he gave her a stiff nod. She retreated to the corner as Dowth stepped toward the circle, the crimson red of the blood seemingly reflected in his irises.

"My first step toward greatness will be made here," he breathed.

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

Eames sighed and wiped his forehead as he tossed aside the mangled body of the seagull in his free hand. It landed with a dull thud beside the chair bearing his white suit jacket, removed to avoid any mess. After wiping the blood from his hands, Eames unrolled the sleeves of his dress shirt and kicked aside the other seagull bodies as he made his way to the wooden chair and sat down.

The large warehouse by the docks was quiet, save for the sound of the sea outside as it attempted to struggle in vain against the iressistable pull of the moon.

"An ironic choice of location," Eames mused to himself, removing the small vial of sand from the distant deserts of the Middle East and rolling it around in his fingers, "to call someone whose never laid eyes on the sea."

Sighing at the deepening black of the sky and realizing he'd better get on with things, Eames stood and shrugged into his crisp white jacket, readjusting his loosened tie before approaching the circle. He gingerly placed the vial within the bounds of the circle before stepping back and inspecting it.

"Well, let's hope you don't disappoint, Silent Killer," he mused.

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

Calisa finished drawing the bounds of the summoning circle, breathing a tired sigh and allowing herself a moment to rest.

"So this it... I'm really going to see a Servant," she thought, intrigued for the first time. From what she'd been able to glean, standing in the presence of a Servant was worthy of awe. After all, they were the purest form of legend, the crystallization of humanity's greatest achievements.

Approaching footsteps alerted her to Jamie's presence. Calisa quickly retrieved and disposed of the bodies of the dead roosters, knowing it would not do to allow anything of distaste to linger in Jamie's presence. She felt a twinge of regret for the poor birds, but had little time to dwell on this as Jamie entered the wooded grotto near the house, looking triumphant.

"Watch closely, sister," he breathed excitedly, as she backed away from the circle. "Today I forever engrave the Lannister name in history."

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

Sima gently cradled the artifact he'd obtained, gazing at it as though it were the most precious thing he'd ever seen, despite its fairly unimpressive appearance.

"Yes... with this I shall summon the greatest of all heroes," he whispered, reverently placing it within the magic circle before him. "The King of Heroes himself... with him at my side, I cannot fail."

It was strangely appropriate as well to the most ancient of kings from the beginning of the world to help in preserving its continued existance.

"There can be no failures.." Sima muttered, walking around the outside of the carefully constructed magic circle. "There can be no miscalculations. Humanity hangs in the balance. The keys of fate are within my hands alone."

His steps ceased, and he gazed up at the starry sky above the ruins of Kaiserpfalz. They seemed so far out of reach, just like his noble goal. But on this day, that would all change.

"They'll all see," Sima spoke to the night air, turning his gaze to the magic circle. "And then they will finally understand my calling."

The soft creak of ancient hinges signaled the entrance of another person into the chapel. Behind the curtain of the confessional, Logan silently leaned forward to get a better view of the rooms new occupant. He was rewarded with the sight of Raphael, who glanced back over his shoulder once, looking out into the street, and then calmly closed the door.

The priest's footsteps were surprisingly quiet on the marble floors as he made his way down the aisle. In the back of his mind, Logan counted the seconds since the door had closed. Thirty, forty-five, a minute...

"Father, forgive me, for I plan to do a lot of sinning in the next few days..." Logan's eerie voice rasped from behind the curtain, echoing in the open expanse of the chapel as he stepped out of the confessional and into the dim light.

Raphael felt relief upon entering the chapel, as though it were cleansing water washing away the filth and grim of the day. To sit in the company of heretics, to break bread with them as though they were friends, was nearly unbearable. He had not sinned - after all, his actions were condoned by the Church - but he still felt a need to pray and relieve the burden on his heart.

As his footsteps approached the altar, he froze at the sound of an echoing voice - a familiar, scratching voice that he recalled only too well. After all, he'd just heard it.

"That's not quite how confessional works," Raphael said gruffly, eyes narrowed at the man. "But I suspect you already know that, Levatte."

The man's presence in this place could only be confirmation of what he'd already suspected. As they stood apart, facing one another, Raphael waited for the man to speak and state his purpose.

Despite the circumstances, Logan offered the man a sad smile in response to his sharp comments. "Aye, I'm aware. You're supposed to ask forgiveness after you've committed the sin..." He paused for a moment, looking even more sad than before. "Considering the circumstances, I wasn't sure if I'd be alive to ask again later though."

There was a pregnant silence in the air after Logan's words, and he let it linger for several moments before he continued. "As I'm sure you've already gathered, I'm not a normal competitor in this contest, although I did receive entry by traditional means..." For a moment, he saw another of the men he had cut down to receive the contract, empty eyes staring up at the sky...

He shook his head to clear away the thought. "By order of the Burial Agency, you are forbidden to reveal my true purpose to anyone, both during and after the competition. Normally, the Vatican elects to take a more hands off approach to matters like this, but the goals of several participating factions drew our attention in a way that we could not simply stand by and ignore. As such, I'm here, not to win, but to prevent those factions from achieving success by any means I deem necessary."

"You are also forbidden to take any action regarding me, which would either help or hinder me in this competition, so long as I abide by the rules that bind each of the other contestants. My connection to the Vatican will never be known to any of the organizers or participants."

"Are we clear?"

Raphael was taken aback to see the man's vulnerable response to his statement, seemingly remorseful, perhaps even distraught, about what he'd done and would continue to do. For a Burial Agent, this was certainly unusual behavior. But before he could comprehend this much, Logan's entire bearing had shifted. He began to rattle off orders with a cold, withdrawn indifference, his eyes hard and unyielding. To Raphael, this was not as surprising as what he was hearing.

So the Burial Agency was interfering in the Grail Games. He could see the reasoning here; trusting such a powerful relic - a holy relic, if only in name and not practice - in the hands of heretics was not a risk worth taking. But to hide this knowledge from him, only revealing it in such a manner... it was hard to take in.

Raphael nodded slowly, his face as hard and inscrutable as Logan's own. He moved toward the altar, stopping only after he'd passed Logan.

"Don't give me a reason to break those orders," he said softly, the words coming out deep and clear regardless.

No one was following her. Good. She had purposely left in the wrong direction, just in case, and now she was driving a roundabout way to her base. She had also made two calls, telling those watchdogs her father sent to get their butts ready and meet up at base. Meng Yui's head was on Meira's lap as she drove, and in an almost loving manner, the cyclops woman was stroking the other woman's hair. She was of course, not doing that for the hell of it. In a few hours, this woman would be sent off to the church, still acting as Shiyan Fu. Meira needed to double-check that everything was set up so she would act the part. Of course, she only needed a few days, then it wouldn't matter who knew that Meira was in the war. A week should suffice. Then Yui's memories of her loving family could slowly return... in the most horrible way possible.

The woman smiled as she drove in to the large warehouse that was going to act as her base. She chose it because it was out of the way in an obscure place. Miss Franz would most certainly have preferred ruins or an old castle to be sure, but those would likely be prime places for others to roost. So she had to make do with this make-shift replacement. She had to get a place fitting for herself, after all.

Additionally, the warehouse was almost completely empty. It was a large place, where even servants could do battle, with only a large container in the back. Another by the side of it served as her room. The place got full electricity, water, and even heating. The windows were covered in industrial curtains. They had no hatches, of course, and only let in light. There was no way to get in through them without breaking them. That meant the warehouse doors were the only way in and out. Spirits, of course, didn't care for walls. Which is why her barrier would be strictly against spiritual forms. Her other two goons could set up the regular ones. Hers would make even Servants weaker if they did not manifest in physical form. It was only a bit weaker, and their strength would return to them about a minute after manifesting back to physical form, but it would certainly work as a good alarm. Most professionals wouldn't risk even the slightest bit of weakness. Assassin was her primary concern, since his very purpose was to go after the Master and ignore the Servant. She'd be more than happy for that to happen after a few days, but until then...

Meira stepped out of the car, Yui following like a dog. Quite literally. Buck-naked and on all fours, she trailed behind Meira, panting. That dinner party went well, but Meira couldn't full well take the humiliation, even if it was by her own doing. This would make her a small bit happier. The Franz woman unlocked the warehouse gates and threw them wide, not caring whether her lackeys had arrived or not.

Logan had already taken the first few steps towards the door after seeing Raphael's nod of acceptance, but he paused with one hand raised towards the chapel doors at the man's words. His answer probably wasn't what the other man was expecting, but Logan's voice rattled back in response.

"May the peace of the Father rest on your shoulders. The task before you is great, and the labor will not be easy..."

Only the rustle of Logan's coat signaled his exit from the chapel, leaving behind a stark silence that was far more unnerving than his usual fading rattle of chains.

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

Several minutes later, Logan's shadow slipped into a grove of trees on the outskirts of one of the large parks in the city. There were less people here, but he still kept to the shaded cover of the trees as he made his way deeper into the park. The number of voices in the background slowly faded until only the sound of his own footsteps echoed in his ears.

Only after he'd not seen another soul in the last half mile did Logan cut back on his path and head towards his real destination. It didn't seem like there were any trackers following him, probably because the other contestants had discounted him immediately. Good. He could use that. No, he would use that...

There was a small clearing ahead, undetectable unless you were looking down on it from above, and Logan stepped up to one of the trees at its edge before bending over to retrieve the bag he'd left there earlier that morning. When he opened it, the putrid odor of kerosene assaulted his nose, but he ignored it as he reached inside and started pulling out torn scraps of cloth. Meticulously, he laid each of them in place, covering the ground in an odd circular rune that seemed to spiral both inward and outward at the same time.

Only after he was done did Logan reach into his pocket for the cloth-wrapped earring that he'd been given. Slowly, he turned the object over in his palm, taking a closer look at it for the first time. Who had this once belonged to? Why did they think that person would be able to win this war? And most of all, did he trust in that judgement?

Frowning at it, he wrapped it back up and dropped it into the bag the rags had come out of, giving it a shake to coat the cloth entirely in kerosene.

What to do... What to do...

The clock chimed loudly, signaling the arrival of one in the morning. Dowth calmed his breathing as he raised his arm toward the circle, extending his hand slowly.

"Let silver and steel be the essence. Stone for the foundation, and the Archduke of Contracts to the cornerstone."

His voice reverberated powerfully off of the stone walls, making him feel empowered. Annabelle watched silently from the corner, her expression blank and unreadable.

"Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall. Let the four cardinal gates be closed. Let the three-forked road to the kingdom rotate."

The usual nerves in the body inverted into circuits transmitting magical energy. From this point, his body forgot its functionalities as a human; no, it ceased to be human. Instead, it had turned into a component of the ritual, into a circuit that purely connected the ethereal with the material.

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

Eames felt a shiver run through his body as the air became thick with magical energy like a stifling, invisible mist. His heart hammered painfully in his chest, though it seemed to come from a separate dimension. The scream that wanted to burst forth from his lungs remained trapped as the incantation continued to spill from his lips.

"Enclose. Enclose. Enclose. Enclose. Enclose. Five times for each repetition. Break asunder with every filling."

A sensation of melting from the fingertips plagued his body. No, of being filled from the fingertips. The mana being taken in was so concentrated that the original senses of his body were repainted. The malevolent chill and agony caused by the slithering and circulation of the Magic Circuits within one’s corporal being is something that no magi can escape from.

Eames gritted his teeth and continued to chant the incantation, speaking clearly to the night air, "I announce."

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

Calisa took several steps back as the magic circle pulsated with magical energy, like a monster awakening from a deep slumber, like womb waiting to bring forth new life. She'd experienced magic before, but nothing like this.

Jamie paid her no heed, the whole of his concentration on the ritual. His whole body was burning hot.

A sensation of being burned alive.

A sensation of being torn apart.

Stab, stab. Swords are driven into the body. The pain of the human body resisting itself as a magic circuit is nearly unbearable.

But he could not loosen his concentration even a fraction. At the end of this pain lay the place of connection.

"My will creates your body, and your sword creates my destiny," Jamie spoke proudly and firmly. "If thou would heed the Grail's call and obey this will and this reason, then answer my summoning."

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

Sima's lungs heaved as his expectancy reached its peak. Now, all that remained was to empty out the mana within to move the engine called the summoning circle. The magical ring had begun to shimmer with brilliant light

"I make this oath here," he declared in a loud, ringing voice full of conviction. "I shall be all that is good in the eternal world."

His voice sank quietly to nearly a whisper, though if anything, it became more heavy with determination as his eyes flashed.

"I shall dispose of all evils in the eternal world."

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

And now the summoning circle had reached its crescendo, pulsating violently with magical energy and casting brilliant shafts of light in every direction. Dowth felt a thrill of terror at this awesome display of power, but also a thrill of triumph as his mana reached its uttermost limit.

"Thou Seven Heavens clad in the Great Words of Power, come forth from the circle of constraint," he called, feeling as though his voice were struggling to reach beyond an impossible chasm. His vision shut down automatically in fear of being broken by the fifth element, unperceivable by human eyes, that had manifested before it.

Into the blinding haze of light, he reached forth his hand against the crushing tide of mana and shouted into the void with all his might, seizing at his victory as his magic circuits connected with the plane that was not of men.

"Keeper of the Balance!"

[I'd like for Gedo to post his summoning, Payne to post his summoning, Ryu to post his Servant arrival, Noin to post her Servant arrival, Jorg to post his Servant arrival, and then I'll wrap things up. It doesn't need to be in this exact order, but I want to get all the Master posts done before the Servant posts.]

The rustle of wings overhead drew Logan's attention, and he looked up to see a large screech owl perched on the branch above him. The creature observed him silently for a moment, locking the wide orbs of its eyes with his. Then, as if breaking the spell of silence, it screeched and took flight, disappearing into the night.

"I suppose it's time then..." Logan muttered as he pushed himself to his feet. Overhead, a half moon peeked over the horizon, barely visible through the treetops, but Logan couldn't help but feel a slight chill run down his spine. From this moment forward, he was at war...

Taking a deep breath, he picked up the bag that had previously contained the kerosene covered rags and reached inside of it, wrapping his fingers around the cloth-wrapped trinket within. Fluid trickled between his fingers and he raised the object into the moonlight to take another look at it.

It seemed to wink at him in the semi-darkness, and he closed his hand around it. "Father above, I make a request of Ye now. From Thine own, I request a companion in this task Thou hast laid before me. Send now to Thine servant a spirit to accomplish Thy will."

Flames burst to life in Logan's palm, consuming the earring and licking away the kerosene covering his fingers. The fire surged back and forth in his hand, like the soft beat of a heart, but the metal in his palm remained oddly cool.

"Amen..."

He closed his fingers around the fire, seemingly squeezing the life out of it, but the earring dropped from his palm, like a single drop of lifeblood to the ground.

The kerosene soaked rags ignited instantly, scorching the circular summoning rune into his eyes through the darkness.

"Let silver and steel be the essence. Stone for the foundation, and the Archduke of Contracts to the cornerstone. Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall. Let the four cardinal gates be closed. Let the three-forked road to the kingdom rotate."

The circle flared, despite the lack of wind in the clearing, and Logan had to resist the urge to take a step back.

"Enclose. Enclose. Enclose. Enclose. Enclose. Five times for each repetition. Break asunder with every filling.

I announce.

My will creates your body, and your sword creates my destiny. If though would heed the Grail's call and obey this will and this reason, then answer my summoning."

The flames twisted together, rising into a column of fire that filled the entire clearing. Logan stood rooted in place as he was consumed as well, no longer able to resist the compulsion of finishing the spell, despite the firestorm he stood at the center of. At his feet, the circle glowed even brighter than the flames around him, burning white at the heart of the torrent.

"I make this oath here. I shall be all that is good in the eternal world. I shall dispose of all evils in the eternal world. Thou Seven Heavens clad in the Great Words of Power, come forth from the circle of constraint. Keeper of the Balance!"

In a sudden rush of cold, the flames collapsed inward, blasting ashes into the treeline around the clearing, and leaving only the glowing embers of the spell circle behind. As his eyes readjusted to the dim light, Logan could make out a form in the center of the circle, but he was still in the grip of the spell that had just been completed, unable to call out to the form before him.

 
She gave the man standing there a look, but that was it. "Guess the other guy was smart enough to not show up. Bring the car in." Meira neatly tossed the keys at Ro, uninterested in what stood there. She strode forward, down the wide open expanse to containers in the back. "And work on that detection bounded field." Things were finally in motion. She led her sacrificial mutt to the container that would be Meira's room. Dark curtains were the only entrance, and once she moved through them, the lights were flipped on. She didn't have time to inspect her room. They had just tossed everything in there... annoying bastards. Meira only took time to change her clothes, discarding the red dress for Yui to wear and fitting into her own normal clothes. She put on a worn and torn light trench coat. It was a more modern take on the villain's cape. Theatrics were important too, after all. She stopped by the stone statue, Shiyan Fu's look of hopelessness and despair frozen in time for Meira to adore. She knocked it playfully on the cheek. "Thanks again for this." As a last deal she almost forgot, Meira grabbed her sword. She needed this to be believable, after all. Simply ripping this mutt's hand off wouldn't look real.
 
She strode out once more into the wide expanse of the empty warehouse. The woman crawled along dutifully. Meira Franz smiled, content in how easy it was for magus to influence those without power. It was simply sublime. Even now, as the long-haired villain booted the woman to the floor and drew her sword, the victim did nothing to resist. The sword arced down in a perfect cut, severing the hand with the command seals. Those would be hers now. She kicked the woman to roll her over, sheathed her sword and picked up the hand. "Hey butt monkey, once you're done over there, come fix up this girl's hand." A simple enough order to Ro. Meira moved on, interlocking her fingers with the severed instrument, as if they were best friends. She multi-tasked, drawing out the command seals while using the thing to draw the summoning circle. Bone screeched on concrete, and it was pleasurable to her ears.
 
She was done now, the hand grinded down in its endeavors. It would certainly never be used again. Meira crushed it in her own hand now, falling into her not-so-guilty pleasure. The crunch of bone and the squelch of flesh... She smiled, the command seals now glowing on her own left hand. The hand that would grasp this Holy Grail and change the world.
 
 
Having finished her chant, she had roosted herself on top of the nearest container. The half-light of the warehouse stretched her shadow out, covering the summoning circle. Her sword's point dug in, her body resting as she put her weight on it, almost as if she was on a throne. In all the Holy Grail wars, the Masters of Berserker were only masters in name. But in these Grail Games, there would be no dispute as to who held the power to grasp the Holy Grail. Even should she summon the maddest of beasts, Meira's own fierce insanity would prevail.
 

As the summoning builds to its crescendo, Meira's words seemed to sink into the air and a black smog formed in their wake. It curls around the containers such that they could only be seen by their outline. With the last words of the Incarnate descending into the air reach the smog grew a red tint, like blood faded over time and with this cursed colour came another presence.

For while all remained still, poised on the edge of the real and imaginary worlds. Finally, as if time truly had no meaning a voice called out into the world. It's words where modern yet the accent called back to far older times when heroes where still part of peoples lives, when man would walk the darkness for it was the safer path.

“Who is it that calls me here? To fight this war.” Berserker asked, still hidden to mortal eyes within the darkness of the room.

In an instant Saber felt himself being tugged into reality. A flash of light barely overpowering what little candles there were in the otherwise dark stone room heralded his arrival. The Ether that formed him still danced in the air lightly for naught a moment before winking out to whence it came. Saber flicked his eyes to the source of his strength, then quickly to the man standing before him. How curious.. Addressing the man before him Saber stared weighing the man's power, and conviction.

"You. You who think you are worthy of the Holy Grail and its bountiful treasures. Would it be you, that I call Master?" Saber asked in anticipation of how the man would answer.

Spoiler:

The mana circling through the broken ruins gather at the center of the circle, giving form to what would be called a Servant. Sima was excited, his heart almost bursting through the chest with anticipation.

He could see it now, all so clear, the mightiest Servant under his control, winning the war and stopping the end once and for all. He could already taste his nightmares and visions vanishing with the arrival of the Servant.

Yes. Everything was going has predicted, Sima would summon the most powerful Servant, and with him he would stop the end of the world. Nothing could go wrong; every calculation had led him to this precise conclusion.

But humans are foolish creature, in the face of a lie, they will believe in it just because it's convenient.

Blinded in the thought that he will get the greatest of Heroes, he shoved away the very possibility of getting a different servant. For an imperfect catalyst could never summon a perfect existence.
The light of the circle began to fade, and with it, darkness consumed the room. Where there should be a radiance of golden power, there was nothing but void. A woman stood there.

“No…”

She was beautiful, Sima had not calculated this possibility, no perhaps he rejected it all together. Regardless, in front of him stood a woman who practical oozed beauty and elegance, however something felt wrong.

“Nononono…!”

Sima was an Atlas alchemist, no, not just any, but the represented, to be incapable of calculating such a possible outcome was inconceivable. But now, now it felt so obvious, as if it was the only possible outcome to begin with. Yes, there was someone else related to his catalyst, someone even more related to this cheap imitation than the grand King of Heroes.

Sima had not only fail to see suh an outcome, he summoned the very opposite of what he wanted.

The woman opens her golden eyes for the first time in what can only be expected to be an eternity.

“NO! WHY? WHY! IT SHOULDN’T HAVE BEEN YOU!”

Sima was collective and calm, but for the first time in his life, he panicked, he couldn't explain, he felt fine, normal, calm, even if he summon the opposite, it's not the end of his quest.

WRONG.

This was the end of his quest, now that this outcome was right in front of him, he could see the end result, he was going to die.

“YOU---“

“Silence.”

As if god had spoken, it was followed, the Servant ordered silence, and silence she got.

Sima was at awe, yes, that was the only explanation, a single word from the servant and he was unable to speak out.

The woman takes her first step since being summoned. With elegance she walks toward Sima, each step taking an eternity to reach him. Sima realizes what is about to happen. The servant he summoned will kill him and will win the war without effort.

I command thy Servant, you will not kill me!

Gathering his last efforts in controlling the monster in front of him, he utilizes one of his command seals. No matter what he predicted, command seals can make the impossible into possible.

“!!!!”

A shadow covers Sima, the woman had finally reached him, her cold eyes examining him as if he was some sort of experiment.

How? His command seals should have reacted, the woman should have stopped her advance, yet, she didn't.

Her free hand extends and grabs hold of his head, revealing a cruel smile. It hurts, he could feel it, if she so wanted she could crush his head with her bare hands.

“I ask of you, are you my Master?”

The servant jokes, she already knew the answer, this was nothing more than playing with food. But, perhaps, even if there was but a small chance, if he could answer she would stop. Sima wanted to answer, but could not, his voice still betraying his command. He struggles to nod, but the servant’s hand has his head locked in place.

“No? A pity.”

Dark light engulfs her hand and soon Sima's head and whole body.

“!!!!”

It hurts, it burns. This was the end, Sima was going to die, and no one would hear of him again. His quest for salvation turned into a quest of destruction in a blink of an eye and no one would know of this

It’s getting dark, almost pitch black, Sima could no longer see his servant or even the world…and eventually…could no longer think…..

_______________________________________________________

Spoiler:

Where once a pair of Master and Servant was, now stands a lone Caster.
In front of her a pile of ashes signifying where her Master once stood.

“Hmmmm.”

She was disappointed to say the least, she did not expect to be summoned by such an emotional person, however once she met such a disrespectful human her immediate reaction was to punish him.

“What a foolish man.”

She looks at the pile of ashes of her former Master. She had absorbed everything that made him, primarily his knowledge and memories. It was only natural, she was not willing to serve such a emotional man, thus to at least grant him some utility to his worthlessness, she absorbed him. In some ways, she was merciful.

“So many crude calculations and he never realized that there’s no saving a dieing world? No, perhaps he deluded himself…well no mater.”

There’s no point in questioning the dead.
Caster looked at her possession, the arm of his former Master containing his command seals. Now that these are in her possession, she has nothing to fear.

“Now then, what wonders will this game bring to me?”

A cruel smile resurface on Caster’s face, darkness approached, this would be a Grail Games to remember.

"Ah, unfortunately this is the prelude to the war I'll start. If you desire war, if you desire to conquer, then you'll have to get this ridiculous contest over with. You are aware of the six other servants and masters, correct? I am your Master, Meira Franz, and the only one who deserves the title. You, Berserker, have the worst luck as a hero. But if domination and winning these Grail Games are all you're after, then I dare say you're the luckiest."

A proper monologue to be sure. Meira looked onwards to the darkness. To her, it was like a ray of sunshine on a cold day. A pleasant warmth and a happiness in her base nature. She had no idea if she had summoned the man who she thought she had. Any relic that old was sure to have many tales, and many of them could be wrong. Still, she had summoned Berserker had she not? He seemed relatively calm from his words. Meira lifted her sword up a bit, standing up straight on her own.

"You ARE of the Berserker class, Servant? If your loins are sore, there's a woman over there I can offer to you."

Meira nodded over to Yui, who's hand was being nursed by the lackey that had bothered to show up.

Berserker looked upwards towards his master as she replied to his question, the blood stained smog dissipating as if Meira Franz's voice was anathema to it. With the air now clear enough for a servant to see Berserker regarded his master for a long moment. As if in pursuit of a forgotten question.

“What else is there than domination of those who wish to be ruled.” He at least replied, his voice as controlled as before. “Still this is a war, in everything but name, so one should treat it as such. Isn't that why I am here? To cut and rend and smash and rip”

Walking out of the circle the Mad Knight's form was revealed to those who watched him. Tall and broad shouldered, dark black hair hung loosely to his neck. Red eyes shine in a face to hard to be described as handsome, matching the ruby red of the gems in his sword lying along his back, its hilt ridding above Berserker's right shoulder.

Snorting at the offer of rapping the naked woman who's blood had painted the path here Berserker reached out a hand for his master and replied to her question. “Yes I am Berserker, the Mad Knight of the grail. However its poisoned fingers feel like the cresses of a lover after having ridden with the flames of God's righteous judgement.”

She could feel herself being drawn to reality. Closer and closer until the dark image of the forest around her became clear. The remnants of the flames whirled around her and then dissipated into grey smoke that was carried away by the wind. At her feet were the glowing embers of the spell circle and the air was still thick with mana.

Lancer straightened up and turned around to the figure half concealed in the shadows. A slight narrowing of the eyes was her only reaction to that and before she even took a single step in any direction, she spoke.

"Are you the one who called me here? Are you the one that seeks to be my Master for this quest?" she asked. Her voice was crystal clear, resonating  over the clearing. Even in the darkness, with only little moonlight, her eyes seemed to focus directly on Logan.

Logan inhaled slowly, still recovering from the effects of the summoning. His eyes were already locked on the figure before him though. A woman. He had expected as much, considering the trinket he'd used, but there had still been the off chance that it could have been a man.

"Yes, I'm the one who called you." Logan responded, his voice more clear than it had been during the earlier gathering, although a slight crackle resounded in the tone. His eyes had readjusted to the dim light now, and he could make out the woman's figure, as well as the spear propped against her shoulder.

Lancer...

"I trust that since you answered, you know what's to come in the next days?" He asked, extending his hand towards her, an offering of trust. "Hopefully, neither of us will die before it's all said and done."

Dowth could scarcely contain the cry of excitement that was rent from his lips at the sight of the Servant - his Servant - standing tall and proud in shining black armor. He had done it! The strongest of the Servant classes was now his!

"Knight of the Sword, Saber," Dowth said, his voice strong with conviction as he bared the Command Spell upon his arm. "I, Alderic Dowth, am your Master. From this day, your sword will carve my destiny!"

Annabelle was watching intently from the corner, a flicker of interest in her gaze for the first time as she regarded him, the highest of all phantasms, feeling the thread of connection between them. So this was what a Servant truly was....

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

Calisa stared in shock and awe as the light from the magic circle died down. Within the center was something beyond anything she could have imagined.

A legendary illusion wrapped in tornado and lightening like a cloak of majesty. The appearance was human, but it felt nothing like the human it once was. Originally of human kind but separated from the mortal plane; elevated to the level of elementals through powers not of men, to the place where the supernatural gathered… the Throne of Heroes. The Heroic Spirit weaved from the dreams of countless ordinary men descended to the mortal plane once more.

"I've done it!" Jamie laughed hysterically, arms thrown wide as if to embrace the sight. "It's even better than I'd hoped. These Games are mine!"

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

The Servant looked up from its place its place on the floor, a stain of deepest midnight in the dark warehouse. The macabre white mask of the black-shrouded figure seemed to display the emotions of its wearer, rather than obscure them. Eames had the very unsettling impression of large spider watching amusedly from out of the darkness as a large, juicy fly became further and further ensnared in its web.

In its deep, croaky voice, the phantasm spoke, as though measuring him up, "I ask of you..."

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

The deep, regal voice of the tall and proud figure before Jacques reverberated off the walls. It was the sound of one who had commanded the respect of countless men in his time. He continued as he stepped forward from the cofines of the circle, his eyes fixed in a gentle but commanding way upon the man before him. No matter how strong and courageous the magus, no one could help but be awed by the presence and of the stately man whose eyes glowed with a blazing intensity like smouldering coals.

"...are you my Master?"

Raphael finished setting up the chapel for mass, his movements mechanical and automatic. His mind was truly focused on the events of the night before.

He'd felt it clearly; the Servants had all been gathered. Now this city was a warzone - whatever else the Association decided to disguise these Games as - and it would be more important than ever for him to ensure the safety of the souls, if not the lives, of the people here.

The thought of the Servants brought his mind to the Holy Grail. A more truly blasphemous name could not have been chosen, especially when he'd gone down to observe the vessel that the magi had obtained from the ruins of the Einzburn Castle. With its pale, thin body devoid of any features, bound with ugly black chains to the magic circle surrounding it, it made for a truly repulsive sight. Such a hideous mockery of human life could not possibly be worthy of holding that mantle.

The door to the sanctuary opened, and people began to filter in. His lips moving in a murmured whisper of prayer to erase the grievous memories of this whole accursed affair, Raphael turned once more to his sacred duties, hoping that the day would not bring further tidings of the Grail Games to darken his doorstep.

Meng Yui --- Raphael
Unfortunately for him, the Grail Games had forgone Raphael's doorstep and walked straight into his home. Shiyan Fu, (or rather Meng Yui,) was one of the few who had entered his sacred house. She looked tired, defeated even, and any previous elegance was overshadowed by a burdenous aura. She kept her hands crossed inside her clothes, and seemed a little pale. She had the presence of mind to take a back seat, so as to not bother the priest's normal proceedings. She was silent and brooding, but also clearly in despair.
 
 
Meira --- Homies
She had slept. Barely. Her senses were on high alert, and everything was painfully slow. She didn't trust the barriers they had set up, neither did she trust Berserker or Ro from protecting her against Assassin. Still, she had spent many a restless nights, and in much more unpleasant conditions. Daytime... It was probably safer than at night. Maybe she should change schedules. But for now, she needed to prepare. Otherwise, her command seal would be wasted. She used it up last night to summon Berserker. She wasn't a strong magus in terms of OD. In fact, she was weaker than average. Summoning a Servant the normal way may have even killed her, especially a berserker. She was lucky he was controlled, because she could still feel the drain on her energy. In a few days, that wouldn't be a problem. Last night she had begun her ace card... but there were still things to be done. After, the rest of the day could be spent in leisure.
 
She walked out of her room, popsicle in mouth and carrying a suitcase full of Euros. "Yo, Ro Han." Meira tossed the latched case at her lackey, none too careful at how hard she threw it. "Get me something to eat." Next she looked around for Berserker. It wasn't hard. The place was empty, and she could feel the thing eating away at her prana. "And you, Mr. Hunk, you're going to help me train. I may have given you a weapon last night, but that's only to use if someone comes snooping around here. Now come on, stop your punch right in front of my face." Wow she gave out a lot of orders. Last night, Meira had given Berserker the weapon she had picked up from... Ah, what was her name again? Meira wasn't very good with names when it came to dead people. But none the less, Meira had given Berserker the large weapon. It was certainly unique, a one-sided blade almost as large as a person. It would keep anyone guessing as to what servant used such a thing; because of course there was no servant who used it. Shiyan's gauntlet, meanwhile, had been repaired. It was resting in Meira's room, alongside her sword.
 
[Berserker's new weapon]

Berserker had spent the night in spirit form, watching the warehouse. The reason why was because he had no need for sleep and they were at war. Judging by the flow of prana from her Berserker had guessed that Meira was a weaker magi, meaning that although he understood her need to sleep he found her decision not to post anyone as a guard foolish. Now, with slivers of sunlight attempting to illuminate the room, Berserker watched as Meira walked out of her room, a stick of ice hanging out of her mouth and a black case in her hands.

Staying silent he continued to watch as the boy, Ro, was sent on out to collect food. Waiting to see what else his master would do he leaned against one of the containers that were the only things inside the dark room. Listening to Meira's voice with her tone of command that almost dared him to ignore her. Instead he stood up and while walking reformed his body till, with his fist held in front of her he stopped, not fully visible.

"Like this?" Berserker asked, his voice as dead pan as ever.

A moderate populated building, several people could be found here and there reading several books, this is what people would call a Library. A lone shadow moved through the hallways of countless books unseen, a white bony skull of a mask hiding his face.

"Interesting."

It was Assassin, although not invisible or even utilizing his class skill, no one seemed to notice him, even when he walked through two people talking, they never stopped and even blink. In the eyes of others he seemed to be moving rather sloppy for an Assassin, but perhaps it was because he could have the luxury of acting like that.

"Not here?"

His hidden eyes moving through the several names of books he could place his vision upon, looking around several sections that had both Historical and Mythological stories, occasionally picking up a few books. From various titles, such as Beowulf, King Arthur, Enuma Elish, Bible, Iliad, among countless others.

It seemed that Assassin was trying to find out about other Servant's identities instead of leaving that work for the Master, or perhaps was just curious at the possible enemies he could encounter in this war.

Regarless, Assassin seemed uncared about the atention he could be attracting, he was acter all in the territory of another Servant and Master pair.

Gedo - Chapel

Raphael proceeded through his mass, moving through the words and steps as though they were second-nature to him. As he did, he happened to glance at one particular face at the back of the chapel. At first, he did not recognize the face, despite an instinct that he should. But as he continued, nearing the end of the service, he began to piece together an image in his mind - elegant makeup covering her face, her now dissheveled hair pulled into a formal style, and a beautiful, expensive kimono covering her pale body. The realization nearly stopped him short, but he continued through until he had finished and the attendants had all filed out before he approached her with slow steps.

"Miss Fu... this is certainly sooner than I would have expected to see you here," he said, eyes narrowed as he studied her. "You are aware, of course, that Masters should only be visiting the Church upon forfeit of their position."

From the haggard look on her face, this seemed a plausible scenario, though he couldn't imagine what could have happened in such a short time to her.

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

Jorg - Library

Spoiler:

Archer wandered aimlessly through the expanse of shelves, his sharp eyes drifting across each book. Although the library his Master had chosen as their base was a humble one, the extensive storage of knowledge here was enough to make him feel humbled.

"Were this knowledge available at my fingertips in those days..." he murmured, his fingers stroking the bindings. Since his Master was preoccupied with meeting an associate, he had given Archer free-range of the library. There weren't many patrons in usually, and on this particular morning the occupants were particularly scarce. However, there was one person there that Archer found most intriguing, his senses clearly picking up the presence as it entered. Even as he watched, he could see a shadow pass fleetingly through the aisles, a flash of white like a skull briefly visible before vanishing.

Strange behavior indeed. Assassin should be able to conceal its presence almost perfectly, any yet he was clearly noticeable for anyone watching - although Archer did notice that he did at least seem capable of obscuring himself from the notice of idle humans.

"If you are an Assassin, you're a rather poor one," Archer commented, stepping into the aisle where he felt the other Servant's presence. The skulled mask stopped short, peering at him curiously.

Even if he was not dressed as a Servant - wearing the clothes his Master had given him of a black jacket, grey v-neck shirt, and dark blue jeans that were a rather foreign concept to him - surely Assassin could sense that he was not a normal human. Archer stroked his chin, looking likewise interested at his foe, showing no signs of outward aggression. Evidently, he was not worried about the presence of another Servant in his territory like this.

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

Schloss Eller

Spoiler:

Jamie's ecstacy at having summoned the Servant he had no doubt would win the war had not faded at all by the next day. Calisa wasn't sure if she could consider this a good thing or not. In either case, it did allow her to go unnoticed as Jamie focused on observing his Servant.

"Yes, yes, your fighting style should prove most effective against any of the Servants you come up against," he was saying, smiling with great pleasure as though it were his own achievement and not his Servant's. Rider chanced a glance at Calisa, raising his eyebrows ever so slightly. The action brought a smile to her lips.

After the equally terrifying and magnificent display of power the previous night, she'd been unnerved at the prospect of this powerful being hovering around their estate. But her concern was in vain - Rider's personality was perfectly human, probably moreso than most of the people she'd known from her time in the Lannister home. He'd greeted her in the morning, even spoke briefly to her as she'd eaten breakfast. Once Jamie had appeared, he had reverted into the "proper" mode of a Servant, already perceiving the sort of Master he served. But it made Calisa happy to know that he was nothing like a monster.

Standing up, Calisa offered a small, discreet wave to Rider as she headed for the entrance to the estate. Jamie would be busy interrogating his Servant for all his Skills and Noble Phantasms, so she would have time to explore the city for herself before he noticed her departure. This time in Dusseldorf might be the only chance she would get at enjoying an ordinary existance outside the family estate, and she planned to take full advantage of that.