Fate/Ichorum || フェイト / イコラム - IC

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Sylvia lightly shook her head, still smiling as Gawain asserted the differences in their duties. He was correct, of course. The role of a knight was to serve his lord or lady, but even as a Master, Sylvia was a bit baffled by the prospect of someone 'serving' her. After all, she had spent her entire life serving others, so the idea of having the tables turned was a new and strange one. In her own mind, she viewed the relationship between herself and her Servant as more of a partnership. Naive as it might be, she saw the knight as a person first and a Servant second. However, she feared voicing her thought process on the subject might seem an offense to the gallant figure's honor, and thus decided not to argue with his sentiment. "Very well then. I will give all I have to show you such a bright future." That was her plan after all: to bring about a miracle that would benefit all of humanity, to save those who couldn't be saved. If she couldn't consider herself to be anything special, she could certainly view her ideals to be, and those ideals were the very reason she could not reject the opportunity that fate had ordained for her.


As the knight revealed his true name and identity, the young woman's eyes widened. The idea had been present in her mind from the moment she summoned the knight, but to actually hear the name spoken aloud made it a reality. Gawain. That name carried with it a hefty weight. The reality of that legendary knight, that pillar of chivalry, standing before her now made her heart leap in her chest. There could have been no better result. The man before her now stood as a total fulfillment of her hopes. It was honestly a bit shocking how closely he seemed to fit his legend. History was full of embellishment and distortion, legends even more so, so for Gawain to fit her mental image of the 'knight in shining armor' so closely was a welcome surprise.


Just as Gawain suggested they set out, however, he took notice of her confusion at the strange mark on her hand. The magus shook her head, showing the back of her hand to the knight. "It seems, for whatever reason, the Grail has seen fit to give me another Command Seal." She pointed at the odd black circle in the center of her hand. "It's strange though. This one is... different, and in more than just appearance." She looked at the knight quizzically for a moment, as if questioning whether he knew something that she did not. "I can't explain it, but something feels... off?" It was somewhat concerning, to be sure, but this whole 'Grail War' business in general was strange. Perhaps such irregularities were common.


A look of determination filled Sylvia's eyes. "Perhaps we can unravel this mystery later. At the moment, though, you are correct. We should probably head into Sasebo." She made her way out of the small wooded area and set off on the street back towards the town. "Regardless, I don't suspect these Command Seals will be seeing much use. Were you someone less upstanding, I would be far more concerned." She walked along the street, gripping the strap on her medicine bag. "Though... there is something I must make clear." She nodded. Gawain was a noble knight, and she felt the two of them would have little trouble, but she still felt the need to voice her own reservations regarding the Grail War for the sake of openness and honesty. "I am a healer by nature. A physician of sorts." She patted the medicine bag. "I have dedicated my life to soothing the pain of others, so spilling blood is something I can not abide for myself. I am not a fighter, and I never will be." She described herself as if it were a matter of fact, an unshakable truth. "I realize the irony of such a person taking part in this 'War'... but don't misunderstand. I really do intend to win. No, more than that. I have to win." Her eyes stayed on the dimly lit road before her. "But I do not want to cause any unnecessary suffering in the process. I understand that Servants must fight, and that the other Masters will probably be willing to use any means necessary to secure their victory. That being the case, I will use every tool at my disposal to aid you. I will heal your wounds. So long as I live I will not let you fall... but I cannot fight, and I cannot abide an ally without mercy." She looked up at the night sky for only a moment. "I do not think you are such a person, but I feel I should be completely honest with you, so that we do not have any misunderstandings. The world is already in too much pain to burden it with unnecessary suffering." With that, she fell silent, awaiting her Servant's input on the matter as they made the trek back toward Sasebo. Sylvia's scarf flapped in the breeze. There was a bit of a chill in the wind that the magus hadn't noticed before.
 
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"A fourth Command Seal," Gawain repeated, gazing at the black mark that stood out so much compared to the red of the three 'normal' Seals. His expression showed nothing but slight concern, and even that was quick to fade. "I know not of how past Grail Wars were conducted, my Master, but this does appear to be an irregularity, or a new addition to the rules of this battle between legends. It may be important to confirm if other Masters also hold a similar 'fourth', but for now…"

He smiled, walking two paces behind her as Sylvia lead the way, one hand resting on the pommel of his longsword.

"...yes, there shan't be much use for these Seals, at least in commanding my obedience. If you ever require an extraordinary task of me, however, do not hesitate in using them. As long as your intentions are pure, I shall stand by your side even after your Commands are exhausted." His eyes locked onto her own as she turned slightly, speaking of her own intentions and beliefs regarding the future Grail War. Yes, it was a conundrum, for her to openly seek conflict despite taking the Hippocratic Oath, for her to seek to create a paradise born from bloodshed, but that too…that too reminded him of the King he had once swore his loyalty to.

It warmed his blood and chilled his bones.

Removing the white cloak from his shoulders, he draped it around his master, the fabric smelling of the sun. "Your request has been heard," he said, speaking into her ear, "and accepted. If I fight, by your ideals, my sword shall strike truly and painlessly. If I fall, by your blessing, my will shall not waver or crumble. If a life can be spared, by this oath, it shall."

He closed his eyes, committing this challenge to memory.

"Now then! Must confess that all the education in the world doesn't make up for experience, and both 'modern architecture' and 'air conditioning' sound fairly wonderful. Will we be stopping by your castle first, my lady?"
 
Sylvia smiled a wide, honest smile as Gawain accepted her terms. Just as expected of a loyal knight. She knew her methods were somewhat unreasonable. Many Heroic Spirits would have probably been disgusted by such a handicap. Fortunately, Gawain was not like them. Everything was going perfectly so far, at least as far as the young woman could tell. "You have no idea how happy I am to hea-" The knight placed his cloak around her. For a moment she stopped walking, taking time to appreciate the wonderful absurdity of the situation, before continuing with a cheery smile. "Ahem... How happy I am to hear that. Together we will accomplish great things." The pure resolve with which she said the words, and the glimmer of hope in her eyes exemplified the magus' will to achieve her goal.

Gawain's next recommendation caught her a bit off guard. She giggled nervously, realizing what he meant. "Oh yes, the modern world is a fascinating place. It must be even more impressive to see with fresh eyes." The world really was a fascinating place. It had its darkness, its pain, its untold suffering, but it also contained beautiful and marvelous things. She nodded in agreement with his assessments of architecture and air conditioning. "I will say, air conditioning is wonderfully pleasant, if nothing else." She was desperately attempting to postpone the conversation of going to her current residence. The squalid little hotel room seemed so inappropriate for a knight. Still, they would have to go there sooner or later, so perhaps it was best to go head and it get it out of the way, as much as she wished she could avoid it.

"Hmm... right... my, um, 'castle'." A look of embarrassment crossed her face, painting her cheeks red. Before, she had considered the room more than adequate. It had a roof, a refrigerator, and an air conditioner that functioned most of the time. All of these things were glorious blessings to the magus who had spent the last few years in some of the most inhospitable environments on Earth. It was hard to enjoy such conveniences, after everything she had seen, but the modest room had seemed more than pleasant by her standards. Now, though, she questioned how Gawain would react to her borderline-impoverished living conditions. "Well... perhaps we should stop by. I suppose it will end up being a sort of base of operations for us... but there is something I have to explain first!" They had made it back to Sasebo and every step drug them closer and closer to the hotel. "I am not a native to this country. In fact, I had only initially planned to stay here for a few days. I travel quite a lot... so... my current... um... dwelling? Yes, my current home, as it were, is a bit... cramped." She laughed nervously again. "I apologize, but I hadn't exactly planned for guests, and I'm used to rather rough living conditions, so it's nothing fancy." She looked at Gawain apologetically. "It does have air conditioning, though."

Having explained the situation in the best way she knew how, Sylvia continued walking. She questioned why she was so concerned about such a small, trivial thing. Perhaps it was a side-effect of being back in normal society. Perhaps it was just one more peculiarity in a series of peculiar events. Regardless, she was slightly irritated with herself for even mentioning it. There were more important things, after all. As the pair walked, the breeze continued. It didn't feel cold anymore. Perhaps the white garment now wrapped around her was responsible for that. Comfort was a strange feeling for the woman. In her youth, she had known only cold. Blistering, chilling, paralyzing cold. In recent years she had become well acquainted with scalding heat and desert sun. By now, comfort was an almost alien experience. Odd, pleasant, and not without a quiet, probably undeserved undertone of guilt... strange, those all described Sylvia as well.

Finally, the pair reached a rather run-down looking hotel. It was the cheapest in the city, as far as Sylvia knew. "Right, well, here we are." She led Gawain up a rather slippery staircase and down a corridor, eventually stopping outside of her door. She pulled a jingling set of keys from her pocket and unlocked the door, taking a deep breath before opening it. The room was small and mostly bare. Sylvia's belongings were stacked neatly in a nearby corner. There was a cot in the opposite corner, a 'kitchen' that was scarcely larger than a cubicle, and another door that led to a tiny washroom. Sylvia motioned around the room. "Not much to look at, but its not unpleasant." With little other introduction to the room, Sylvia walked over to the kitchen area. A line of bottles, filled with liquids of various colors stood arranged on the counter. A number of bizarre ingredients could be seen scattered nearby, likely the building blocks for these strange concoctions. Sylvia picked up one of the bottles, filled with a deep blue liquid, and examined it closely. Her bag was filled with similar physics, but these had been recently crafted. Honestly, they worried her. The sheer amount of ingredients that had went into them had decimated her budget, and the one in her hand would likely put an ordinary human into a coma. She looked over to Gawain, motioning toward the bottles. "These are medicines." She gently placed the bottle back on the counter. "I have a fairly large supply of potions. These, though, are special. They're much too strong for any ordinary human." She still wasn't even certain such things would work on a Servant, but having spent so much time and money on them, she hoped they wouldn't just be a waste.

The woman picked up another bottle, this one purple, and examined it closely. "Hmm, seems they still need a bit more time though. I'm afraid they won't be of much use tonight." She put the bottle down. "Hopefully, when they're finished they'll at least be of some help to you though." With that, she quickly checked through her medicine bag and turned back toward Gawain with a smile. "Well, now that you've seen our base of operations, I suppose we can go survey this city. Honestly, it would probably be for the best. I haven't been here long enough to fully memorize the layout yet." With one last look at her potions, Sylvia headed toward the door. There was so much to do. The prospect of encountering another Master and Servant struck her as a dangerous possibility, but if they didn't familiarize themselves with the area they'd be at a definite disadvantage.
 
Tristan remained silent as Agamede ate, his mind wandering. Truthfully, he wasn't sure how to proceed. It was never his intention to get involved in the Holy Grail War. He didn't even want to be apart of it. But, here he was. He ran a hand through his hair before sighing, his arms folding across his chest.

"Oh, don't worry about it." He commented idly upon her declaration, slightly amused by how happy she seemed. He was just being hospitable, he didn't think it was really anything special. But then he considered the fact that people had pretty much tried to erase her existence. Maybe not everyone was so amiable in her time. "Calling me Tristan is fine, though I'm not sure how well it works with poems. I'll just take your word for it." Tristan laughed, though in the back of his head he was still sort of disappointed she wouldn't be calling him master. Did that make him a terrible person? He felt like it did.

"Wait what?" He said, his mind going blank upon her request to hold hands. This was moving too fast for him! He wasn't prepared for this! He was still young and he barely knew her! That, and the fact she was a heroic spirit! She was pretty much a magic ghost! How could he even explain that! Wait, could other people even see her? Now he had so many questions bouncing around his head, the confused and dazed expression on his face perfectly expressing his state of mind.

Then she started laughing.

"Y-You can't just play with my emotions like that..." He whimpered out quietly, a hand over his face as he attempted to hide his embarrassment. Tristan had finally reached a new level of pitiful and he knew it. "L-Let's just go!" He said, still hiding his face while whining, peeking between his fingers to make sure he didn't bump into anything. Though, by the time they were outside, he was walking normally.

Or as normally as you can after having your hopes and dreams dangled before you before being snatched away.

"I'm feeling something but I'm not sure it's that." He commented, staring at the ground as he walked. "It's a nice area, never really got anything foul from it. People are nice, don't ask much. There's a few convenience stores in the area, so it's easy to restock on stuff. Say, do you have any real interest in the Grail yourself? Or is it just to make sure I get it? Truthfully, I have no real interest in this, but I don't like losing either."
 
"Awww... come on, now I just feel terrible. Did such a comment really play with your heart so?" Lancer chortled jokingly, though there clearly was some sort of actual guilty tone there. The mention of anything romance-related seemed to stir her Master in the wrong ways, so she'd try her best to avoid it. Giving a quiet nod in response to Tristan's reply to her own question, she kept that thought to herself, in that case. Maybe it was just her. Something to do with that feeling of something 'wrong' being attached to her, ever since she got here.

Then, he asked about the Grail. At first, Lancer looked reluctant to share her opinion on the subject. Maybe it was out of some sort of belief she shouldn't due to her duty as a Servant, or for the sake of wanting to keep secrets, but whatever the reason, it looked like she was willing to spill it. Her Master had asked a question, after all.

"As a Servant, my understanding goes that any 'motives' I might have should be ignored, in place of my Master's, but... I suppose, if you want to know what I think about the whole situation..." Lancer began.

She took a deep breath, watching those ever-present stars. It was odd how she, a woman who was said embody a golden dawn itself, found it more fitting to express herself under the moon's gaze. Perhaps it was because under the veil of Selene, it was always easier to get out 'secrets'. With that thought, Agamede began to speak in that quiet tone.

"...There are many things about the Grail I don't truly understand, but all my concerns all boil down to one thing: power. The Grail has the potential to do many things. I imagine the wishes of most people would be small, harmless things, because they understand the concept of 'consequence'," Lancer gently closed her fist, her first gaze that embodied anger visible in the moonlight, "But there are some people out there who don't understand. Who are too selfish, to understand. Too absorbed with their own visions of 'power' and 'winning'... or believe they're doing the 'right' thing, not knowing the greater effect they could later cause."

A silver ponytail swayed gently at her side as she shook her head.

"...I do not know our 'opponents', but they could be very, very dangerous people. That 'could' is enough of a reason for me to want to fight. To obtain the Grail and 'win', just to ensure its power doesn't get in the wrong hands. If all of our 'opponents' prove to be good people, with a likewise mindset to me, my only reasons for fighting will be to serve and protect you." Lancer paused for a moment, turning her head with a slight smile, "that's why I felt so relieved when I felt your heartbeat. You say you can feel it, through the heart, when you're met with a thirst for power. I couldn't feel an ounce of that feeling at all. So I'm happy guiding you to the Grail is my goal and purpose. I trust you understand 'consequence' well, like many others do."

She smiled even wider as she finished her sentence, before her eyes grew a little more serious. She looked deep into Tristan for a moment - gold meeting sky blue - before turning away and looking in the distance in thought.

"Don't take my reasons too seriously, though. I know at heart, I'm quite naive. As for your reasons... in truth... you almost seem a little lost. Is the concept of 'winning' the only thing that's guiding you, or is there something else out there, that you truly desire?" Lancer pondered out loud, "...Either way, perhaps in time, you'll find your true reason for fighting in this 'war'. And I have a feeling already that whatever that 'reason' is, it'll be worth fighting for."

Walking into him slightly, she gave him a little enthusiastic nudge with her shoulder as she finished her little speech. Abruptly, however, the Lancer seemed alarmed at something. Almost as if she could feel something residing on her chin...

"...Huh...?" Lancer squinted, looking at the little splotch of yogurt that appeared on the back of her finger after wiping it. Her hair taking on that slightly golden tint of embarrassment, her eyes widened as she looked to Tristan. "P-please don't tell me that was there the whole time I was saying that..."
 
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Berserker hadn't really thought her cloud was a big deal. Sure, she hadn't always had it, but it was pretty easy to get used to.
But, looking around, she could admit it wasn't exactly ugly around here.
Nonetheless, from her experience, flight was only as pleasant as the journey. Wastelands were never particularly enjoyable, for instance.
She put it down to lack of experience and allowed herself to be distracted by the mention of food.
Food was very important to Berserker, so her feeling of being cheated when he pulled out a tinder box was likely understandable.
Still, he mentioned a trick, so it was entirely possible he was cooking food.
No, wait, no, that was a water bottle. Berserker's patience was wearing a little thin.
Until, of course, he'd used it to light a much larger fire than she expected.
"That's cool," she grinned excitedly. "Want me to catch a couple cows?"

On finishing, Berserker hadn't especially much to say.
Considering he had made it on a cloud, it wasn't that bad a snack, but she would have preferred some actual supper.
She would also point out that she didn't actually need to sleep, but considering he had already passed out before she could protest, that concern was not about to be noted.
Figuring there was little else to do, she curled up and joined him.

-

Sun Wukong was bored.
Sun Wukong had been bored for five hundred years.
"Come on, monk..."
That blasted goddess woman had told him that some person was supposed to be coming to let her out of this damn mountain.
"Here, monkie monkie monkie..." she mumbled.
Wait a second.
But Sun Wukong was the monkey.
"Maybe I can free myself, then!" she concluded.
Pulling and pushing herself against the rock she was sealed in, the Handsome Monkey King squirmed and struggled for a good minute or three.

"Crap!" she grumbled. It had, obviously, not really worked. "Curse you, Guanyin! Why would you lie to me?!"
"Guanyin?" asked a feminine voice.
"Yeah, she and that kid have been a pain in my butt for the last five hundred years, and it's sucked the entire time," Wukong nodded. "She said a monkey would let me out soon, but I am a monkey and nothing's happened!"
"You don't look much like a monkey."
Wukong, in part spurred by the demand to know who in the world saw fit to question her, looked down and wondered where that voice was coming from.
A fairly young girl in white and gold was stood at the bottom of the mountain, staring up at her.
"Waiiiiiiit. Who are you?" Wukong asked.
"Me? O-oh, I'm, um, Tripitaka. But you can call me Xuanzang," she added hastily.
Tripitaka, Tripitaka... Where had Wukong heard that name...?
Guanyin might have mentioned it at some point. She hadn't exactly being paying one hundred percent attention, which was odd for two reasons.
First off, there wasn't really much else to pay attention to trapped in a mountain.
And secondly, as much as Wukong hated her, Guanyin was smokin'.
Ah, that would've been why, then.
"Hey, Trippy!" she called down to the girl.
"It's Tripitaka... And please call me Xuan--"
"Whatever! D'you know that hot goddess who keeps talking shit to me?"
Tripitaka blinked in confusion. "Is that... Guanyin?"
"That's the one! She said something about you letting me out of here, I think? Are you a monkey?"
"I'm... a monk?" replied Tripitaka.
"Eh, close enough," decided Wukong. "Do your thing, girlie!"
"Right," she nodded. "How. Do I do that."
"You know, just climb to the top of the mountain and peel off the seal on the highest peak," the Monkey King shrugged. "Not that hard."
The small girl looked down at her thin, mortal body. "Awwww..."
"Aw, don't be such a baby! It's only... what, thirty thousand feet?"
 
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Harry awoke, reaching for the small folder knife tucked into a pocket of his woolen robes out of pure reflex.

As the bleariness left his senses, he had his first concrete thought of the day:

What the hell kind of dream was that?

One moment, he was remembering the first time he met his original team, HAWK, and their first successful mission. Then he started recalling memories that weren't his own, but Berserker's.

The dream cycle, he realized. He frowned. That's odd. According to my research, its unusual for the dream cycle to activate this early. I've only known the girl for a few hours, barely a day. Is our bond truly that strong?

He didn't know what to feel about that revelation. On the one hand, a strong Master-Servant bond boded well for their ability to work as a team, at least in theory. On the other hand...he'd really like to limit the amount of similarity between him and what was essentially a hyperactive five-year-old with a black hole for a stomach.

Then he noticed how the dawning light warmed his face while the wind whispered by. It seemed the cloud had stopped moving. He peered over the edge and realized that they were here.

Sasebo, Japan.

Buildings and streets spread out before him. Cars and people looked like tiny specks so far down below. Harry turned to regard his companion, but Berserker was curled up like a cat -- or a monkey -- sleeping soundly with a snot bubble rising from one nostril. Despite himself, he smiled appreciatively. Once, there had been another young girl in his life who slept like a rock, just like this one. And just as he did to that other girl-child, he poked Berserker lightly in the chin with a finger.

"Hey, Berserker. Wake up. We're here."

---

Harry kicked the door to his hotel room with his foot as he stepped in, hands laden with plastic bags and one long, heavy aluminum suitcase. The opulence of the room was astounding for a man who was wearing local ratty woolens only yesterday. He elected to set up a base camp in one of Sasebo's nicer hotels, one that provided an all-you-can-eat breakfast each day -- important when his charge was an eternally ravenous Heroic Spirit -- and was situated only a few blocks away from a well-stocked convenience store.

The magus wasn't terribly worried about funds. He had a healthy nest egg from his days with HAWK that he could draw from. More importantly, he still had contacts who could get him a suite of much-needed equipment from his stomping grounds in London.

He intentionally left Berserker at the hotel while he went on a quick shopping run, including to the post office for the aluminum suitcase. There was no way he was bringing her around out in the open until he was ready to begin scouting out the other Masters and Servants. To placate the monkey girl, he promised a feast. His own growling belly revealed that he was looking forward to it as well.

"Berserker," he call out, going to a table and laying down four paper bags of food from a nearby fast food restaurant, "I have lunch ready." Only one of the bags was for him.

The rest of the bags and suitcase he laid on a nearby desk. First, he unlocked the suitcase. The interior was lined in soft, gray foam to protect the ordnance within: an M1911A handgun as a sidearm, a FAMAS-F1, and Remington 700 with rifle scope. Among the other contents were several packs of ammunition, extra magazines, a conceal-carry holster, and a small gun cleaning kit. He picked up the holster and attached it to his belt, followed by tucking the handgun into it.

He caught his reflection in the lens of the Remington's scope. Gone were the woolens he'd worn to stay discrete in the mountains of China. Now he wore the attire of most Enforcers: a functional, sharp black suit, leather shoes, dark shirt, and tie. He added a pair of gloves to hide the Command Seals on his hand.

Then he started unpacking the other bags. In addition to basic groceries -- and he had the sneaking suspicion he would be needing a lot of them during the Grail War -- he made sure he had a supply of items to build his usual tools.

Tree stump remover, bags of sugar, lengths of yarn, pieces of PVC piping, some cat litter, duct tape, and other knick-knacks that one would find in a normal home or kitchen.

He already had plans for most of the list. The hotel room came with its own kitchenette and stovetop with oven. The tree stump remover and sugar would be mixed, melted, then cooked in the oven, then packed into the PVC pipes with some yarn that had also been doused in the same mixture. He'd learned from personal experience that the mixture was effectively solid state rocket fuel and when packed into the small space of a PVC pipe, it was essentially a homemade explosive.

He had a variant on the theme as well. Instead of filling the pipe with only the mixture, he would add packed kitty liter that had been ground to a fine dust to cap off each end. After drilling a nozzle into one end, he would have a variant that was effectively a rocket.

He'd need an evening to make enough weapons, but the time would be well spent as long as he was one of the better-equipped contenders in the Grail War.

"Come on and eat, Berserker," he said again, "and mind the things on the counter; those aren't for eating."

Then he picked up the last few things he brought in the bags. His contacts had given pause when he requested some clothes from his home in London.

They knew who those clothes belonged to, once upon a time.

They were girls' clothes, in various styles. Some were casual, a rare few were dresses, but all seemed to be fitted for a young human female at least in her teens or a little younger. Harry sighed forlornly when he looked at them. Those were bad memories. He suddenly felt every year of the four-odd decades he'd been alive.

He pushed aside his wayward thoughts to get down to business.

"All right, Berserker. Now that we're set up in at least some basic accommodations, we should begin scouting out the opposition. I'd like as much information on our opponents as possible before we engage them directly: which Servants are on the field, what they can do, and what their Masters are capable of. If possible, I'd even like to identify who the Servants are. Also, we need to familiarize ourselves with the terrain. I think your flying cloud will prove immensely useful in that endeavor." Harry grinned excitedly. "If we turn out to be the only team with air superiority, then we will have a distinct advantage in the coming battles."

He took out a map of Sasebo that he picked up at the store and began marking it up. "These seem to be good spots to conduct a battle. We'll need to look at them carefully ourselves and prepare them so that we have the advantage. Specifically, we need to reduce the mobility of enemy Servants. In battle, mobility is eight percent of victory. I doubt I'll be able to identify any Masters this early on, given the size of the city and the fact that we have no basic intel to work from. Thus, our priority should be familiarizing ourselves with the terrain. We should make a few scouting runs on your cloud and...."

He stopped and looked at Berserker. Her expression and body language told him everything he needed to know.

He sighed and hung his head.

This was a lot easier when he was working with HAWK.

"Never mind. Maybe the best way to do this is to let me fly the cloud for a while." A thought then occurred to him. A grin formed on his lips. "And I think you might able to help me find those other Masters. Tell me, how'd you like to meet your new playmates? All you'd need to do is make enough of a ruckus to get their attention."

He pointed at the docks on the map. "You can do it here."
 
On one hand, yes, his Master's castle was small, but on the other hand...it looked to be a very cozy place, largely devoid of the vermin that one would expect to be plaguing an establishment like this, and the area that was apparently designed for one to both relieve themselves as well as wash their bodies was remarkably clean. His sharp senses didn't detect a single whiff of human refuse, and though there was no fireplace, it was clear by the knowledge he held of the modern era that flames could be created and controlled with just as much ease as magic from the stove.

Ultimately, though Gawain was slightly worried about how it appeared his master was both living alone without a male guardian to protect her and appeared to have no place to call home to begin with, her current dwelling was definitely fine. Why, the quality of the construction itself would put the stone-floor rooms of even Camelot to shame!

"It's gorgeous in its own way," Gawain said, genuinely surprised that he had yet to come across a dead rat, "Though perhaps it may benefit us to seek a larger abode in the near future. A proper workshop has always been to the benefit of magi, after all."

Whether or not she needed her own magical arts now that he was present was up to question, but the silver-haired knight was nothing but supportive of her efforts. His silver eyes flickered from one potion to the other, a mixture of interest and recognition showing plainly on his features. "I'm sure they'll be useful," he nodded, "Not all Servants have Magic Resistance, after all, and if you've allowed your arts to mature for so long, there surely will be a significant effect. And yes, a nighttime stroll sounds lovely."

Education was no replacement for experience, after all, and even a knight as noble as himself was interested in some casual entertainment. Closing his eyes and recalling the information on 'modern fashion' that the Grail had so generously imprinted into his mind, Gawain eventually settled for formal wear, deciding that even if he wasn't allowed to wear armor, he could at least look like the gentleman he was. In a burst of soft light, polished plate was replaced with fine fabrics, and the silver-haired Servant smiled at Sylvia.

"This," he gestured towards his suit, "should suffice, yes? Let us be off then!"

Steel boots clanked against concrete as the Maiden's Knight led the way into the city of the Grail War.
 
Walking alongside Agamede, he watched her closely as he listened with equal intent. He was surprised by the emotions she displayed as she spoke about the Grail and her opinions on the matter. It was so... Noble. While it was obvious neither of them really had a true desire for the Grail, Agamede merely didn't want it to fall into the wrong hands.

'I guess that's why she's a Heroic Spirit...' He remarked mentally, a smile on his face. Tristan couldn't hide his admiration - he had never met anyone with such conviction. It was almost... Inspirational? While he didn't have a motivation to participate in the war, he could fight for her ideals. To prevent the Grail from falling into the wrong hands...

"I never really considered the power of the Grail, honestly. But, you made a good point. If the others don't look like they have good intentions, we'll fight to keep the Grail safe from them. And, even if they do seem... Noble, we'll win because losing isn't fun." Tristan smiled, though it slowly faded. "Do you think the Grail is capable of... Uh... Do you think 'justice' is a wish that can be granted?" He inquired quietly, though the smile returned when Agamede noticed the yogurt on her face.

"So cute." He remarked with a laugh while patting her head, genuinely amused by her reaction.
 
Sylvia was delighted that Gawain had not taken offense to the room. His suggestion to move to a better location was a good one... but the cost of doing such a thing was a bit prohibitive. "Perhaps that would be best... but I'm quite used to making a workshop out of wherever I happen to be." She smiled a bit, not at her own adaptability, but at the sheer convenience that such a skill created. Truth be told, the hotel room was a far better workshop than the tents and open fields that had served that purpose for her recently.


She smiled hopefully at the knight's encouragement regarding the potions, though his comment on Magic Resistance sent a tinge of worry through her. She hadn't sensed any obvious nullification from her Servant, but the reason behind it hadn't struck her until now. Gawain was talking about himself. On one hand, such a fact was deeply concerning. Most of the other Masters were surely accomplished magi, and more than that, the Servant Caster was probably out there somewhere. To make matters worse, she had little ability in the practice of dispelling Magecraft, though in certain circumstances she could fight or reverse harmful effects through healing more rapidly than offensive Magecraft could harm. There was a positive side to this predicament, however. It meant her healing would be more effective.


Gawain's instant change of attire took the magus by surprise. The knight looked no less gallant in his new wardrobe, but the sudden change made him seem almost... ordinary? Perhaps ordinary wasn't the word, but he certainly looked more at home in the modern world than he had in his gleaming plate. She nodded as he gestured to himself. "It certainly will. You make a fine modern gentleman." With another warm smile, Sylvia nodded, following Gawain out the door, making sure to lock it behind her.


Sylvia followed along behind her Servant, taking in the sights of the city. It was still a strange, foreign place to her, though she imagined it was even stranger for Gawain, no matter how much information the Grail might have given him. "Well, what do you think of the modern world?" She asked the question as she followed along behind Gawain, her voice floating softly through the night air. "Would you have imagined things ending up this way?" It was an odd question, a question that she herself wasn't even certain of the reasoning for, but she asked it anyway.


The pair continued their late night meandering through the city, with Sylvia mentally mapping out the streets as they traveled. The streets were silent, tranquil, serene... wait no they weren't. As the pair turned a corner, they were met with a strange scene: A cafe, the type of spot frequented by the particularly affluent, stood before them. "A cafe... open at this hour?" Sylvia looked at the establishment questioningly for a moment. "How strange, I wouldn't have expected a place like thi-" Sylvia's train of thought was cut off as she noticed a couple coming into view on the same street. She felt something from them though. A sort of pressure. The magus took a step back, watching the pair closely. Perhaps she was wrong, but what else would produce such a feeling. She leaned toward Gawain, almost whispering. "Are... are they?"


This was not the place to get into a fight. Somehow, they had managed to stumble upon the singular location in the town that was lively at this hour, and simultaneously run into another Master and Servant. What were the odds? Sylvia watched as the other pair grew closer. Had they noticed them? "Ga... Saber, I think we may have a prob-"


"Well aren't you two a cute couple! Out for a night on the town are we?"


Sylvia's concentration shattered into a million pieces as her attention was drawn to a woman in a fancy uniform standing in front of the cafe. The woman beamed at them with an overflowing level of cheer. The magus looked at the woman with a perplexed expression. "Oh, we um... we're... not?"


The woman's cheerful attitude would allow no explanation.


"Oh, would you look at that, another couple! Are you all friends?"


Sylvia stared on in abject horror.


"Ohhhh, is it some kind of double date? That's adorable! Come on over, you two!"


She beckoned to the man and woman further down the street.


"Lucky for you we have a booth open."


Sylvia looked from the greeter, to Gawain, back to the greeter, back to Gawain, toward the other two, back to Gawain. "W-what do we do?"
 
Berserker, naturally, hadn't really been listening at all.
She had tried her very best, honestly, but all this whole planning thing was hard.
Taking her last bite from her burger as if in slow motion, like she was trying to be subtly about it, she stared blankly at her Master's overcomplicated explanation.
She settled for his simpler tactic of just letting her make the mess instead.
Frankly, some cathartic ass-kicking was pretty necessary right now.
"Neat," she grinned. "This Holy Grail War thing is easy. When do I start?"
Of course, the ideal answer was "right now", seeing as she didn't especially like the idea of having to wait to beat people up.
But this seemed a little too good to be true if that were the case.
Cogs slowly began to whirr in Berserker's monkey-sized brain.

"Doesn't this...?" she muttered, trying to piece together something. "Isn't this, like, uh... against Magus law or something...?"
Something about making a mess in front of everyone with magic.
Sure, the Grail had granted her knowledge of this stuff, but there was only so much the monkey's head could actually hold until things not related to food and fighting began to spill out.
But this, suddenly connected to fighting, was abruptly seeming rather important to unearth from the depths of her useless knowledge.
 
The seaside city of Sasebo was one that was constantly permeated by the smell of salt water, the blue horizon obstructed partially by the large shipbuilding facilities that were its main source of economy. During the day, perhaps, one could catch the sound of heavy machinery even in the core of the city, but at night, all Gawain could do was admire the moon and enjoy the cool breeze. Large ships of steel, much greater than the wooden warships he had once travelled on, stood silently in the waters, and on the streets themselves, he found his attention pulled a dozen different directions, from flashing ads to roaring metal steeds to the indecent skirt length of some of the young folk who strode through the streets.

Was this just Eastern culture? Japan was near the equator, after all, with a much warmer climate than Britain. Perhaps they were naturally accustomed to wearing less? Regardless of his justifications, however, Gawain's eyes still trained themselves upon the faces of others on the streets. Even street-whores didn't wear so little!

Blinking, the silver-haired youth turned towards his Master as she questioned him. "It's…well, I certainly didn't imagine that humans would be able to make giant birds of steel that could actually fly through the air, or be able to communicate across the world without the aid of magic, or become audacious enough to wear so little…but I'm a knight, and though I can compose poetry, alas, my own imagination can only reach so far."

Those eyes of steel turned from one lively face to another, young adults enjoying a pleasant summer evening, and softened. "I do like it though. It's peaceful here, and children can laugh without a worry of tomorrow. It's neither Avalon nor Eden, but…"

His gaze found itself transfixed on the moon. Would his King have been a happier one if he ruled during this era?

"…it's a kinder world than mine."

The smell of something delicious and foreign drew his attention to the same high-class café that Sylvia was entranced by. Stopping, the gentleman in white marvelled at the wonderful timberwork that could be spotted from outside the large windows, when a sensation akin to lightning ran up his spine. Another Servant. His eyes locked onto another couple walking through the streets, before nodding once. A ruffian and a female Servant, silver-haired like himself. Her appearance didn't ring any bells, so she wasn't someone he knew back then. Taking a step forward, the knight interposed himself between the approaching pair and his Master. Were they foolish enough to start a scene here? Was she a Caster? Or…

A cheerful voice from behind and a rapid-fire, one-sided conversation sounded, and Gawain couldn't help but smile. That lady's cheerfulness was contagious, in a way, and, if nothing else, he would never refuse a request from a lady. "Why thank you very much, young lady," he said, "We'll be glad to take you up on your proposition. My friends and I are rather new to this charming city, so it would be wonderful to enjoy the service of this fine establishment on our first night here."

The radiant smile that gave him the moniker of 'the Maidens' Knight' was aimed towards the fellow Servant, before he turned towards the slightly flustered waitress. "Please, kindly lead the way."
 
"Justice, a wish?" Lancer thought for a moment about the question, "that all depends what you mean. Justice is a very... ambiguous term. One man's justice is another man's sin. If the Grail was able to grant something like that, I think it'd be somewhat... dangerous, to explor-"

Cutting off, Agamede's posture shrunk a little, her mouth giving some sort of embarrassed grumble as her silvery hair was pet.
"H-huh? Wha...." she began in a flustered manner, waiting for the pats to finish. She looked up at him with a slight pout, though the smallest of smiles was still curled up on her face. "Hey, cut it out... I'm not some sort of... goat..."

She supposed this was due revenge for flustering him with the hand holding thing earlier. Once Tristan was done patting, she shook her head a little, her ponytail wobbling from side to side as she did so, before looking up at him with a little smile. It didn't seem like head pats were a thing she enjoyed from him just yet, but she still appreciated the 'banter', as they called it.
"Hmph. I suppose we're even now," she remarked jokingly, giving his stomach a little prod, before continuing to walk. Honestly, she didn't know how to feel about him thinking her 'cute' within less than an hour of knowing her, but at least her Master seemed happy.

Continuing to follow, 'Lancer' took in all of Japan, the quiet individual looking around as usual. A curious place indeed. She was no stranger to the gentle whirring of 'cars', or the towering buildings thousands of times higher than her original hometown's own. Gentle, neon lights, promising hot meals and good prices. Signs directing where, and when, to walk. It all felt so organized... but in a way, the life the people of Japan had here almost felt less... 'free'. She wasn't sure if she liked that. For a city, few people roamed around, but that was probably because of the time. Most likely enjoyed the privacy of their own homes, where they were equipped with everything they needed. One of the things that amazed Agamede the most was that each home had their own bath or shower. A warm soak was one of the best and rarest commodities she could remember, back in her little village.

Even if people were staring at her somewhat from her attire, she could ignore that much at least. Walking with her Master was... a nice experience. And being in a public area made her feel safe.

That was, at least, until she felt some sort of unnatural chill wrack through her body.

~ ~ ~

Her eyes widening, her serene expression transformed into one of worry as she glanced across the walkway. Someone, standing in front of another, was glancing back.
"Master." She suddenly snapped in a serious tone, obstructed his body with hers. "Get back."

Those eyes looking back at her, were a pair of silver eyes of a man that gave Agamede the oddest of feelings. His moonlight hair was almost a mimicked colour of hers, and she could feel some sort of... warmth, coming from him. If it weren't for her golden eyes, they'd have an odd resemblance, like a brother and sister. Despite that, she couldn't recognize him at all, but he had to be a Servant. Behind him, a woman with a somewhat worried expression and kind, soft eyes stood, her hair gently flowing in the night breeze. It seemed like the two pairs were in similar situations. Knowing each other were technically 'opponents'... but, did either side have the courage to make the first blow?

The serious mode was suddenly broken by the bystander of the situation, who had clearly got the situation completely confused. A... double date? She was about to walk off, whatever that was, and maybe suggest to the other pair they converse elsewhere, but the other Servant seemed well up for the idea. ...Was this some sort of joke? A prank, or 'trap', by the other pair, perhaps? Defending from surprise attacks was one of her specialities, but... she somehow felt like, by that female Master's gaze, she wouldn't need to use that at all.

Either way, it was too late now. Her eyes widening a little, she hadn't noticed at first the huge, toothy grin of the other Servant that was being directed at her. He was so... 'photogenic', and was trying to act so 'charming', it was almost inhuman.
"Huh? Ah... ar... s-sto..." Lancer retreated a little, hiding behind Tristan to avoid his line of sight. She was biting her lip really, really hard to not make her hair turn into that gold tint, otherwise that'd raise all sorts of questions. "Yes... we're new, and thought a 'double date' would be a nice way to get some refreshment? Don't mind the attire, I just... er..." Lancer looked to Tristan for help; she couldn't really think of an excuse for her armour. "Well, please lead us to our table? I think we have..." she gave a look to the other pair from the cover of Tristan. "...a few things to discuss."

With that, the waitress began directing the four to somewhere Agamede had no idea was. The presence of the other two, despite the circumstances, wasn't making her feel tense at all. In fact... there was something about those two that made her feel really, really warm. The same warmth she felt from Tristan. If this was anything, it was awkward. Lancer really had no idea what to say, and left it to her Master to be the brains of this operation.

"That man's scaring me... his smile is really, really... unnatural..." Lancer admitted, whispering into Tristan's ear. "And what's a 'double date'? Neither seem like they have bad intentions, but... uhm... this still feels somewhat..." She gave a brief look to other Servant again, but he was ready for her, causing her to squeak as he gave another one of those inhuman, dashing grins. "How are we going to talk to them? ...Is it normal for Servants to do this? Either way, neither of them have a fighting intention in their eyes at all. Especially that woman." She paused in thought for a moment, looking around the Café as the four were led to some sort of table, before finally asking the most important of questions.

"Um... if we're actually going to order something in here with them... I wonder... if this place sells yogurt? Do you think it does? I might be pushing my luck, but I suppose I wouldn't mind just a little more... or maybe even some warm milk..."
 
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"Isn't this, like, uh...against Magus law or something...?"

Harry actually felt a touch of pride. So the fabled enlightenment of the Monkey King wasn't all a fabrication. "Laws are only as powerful as the will to enforce them," he told her. As he spoke, he mixed up several batches of the explosive mixture in a series of bowls. He had a lot of weapons to make and then he had plans to scout the city; he needed an early start. "And in war, law and order are among the first things to get thrown out the window."

He started packing the PVC pipes with cat litter and the mixture. "Consider me, for instance. I'm an Enforcer, a magus trained to deal with supernatural threats and renegade mages. I'm not a very strong mage. The reason why I studied runic magic was to overcome my lack of high-quality Magic Circuits. Were I to face my enemies in a traditional mage-duel, I'd be dead four times over."

He finished one batch and went on to make another. "If I were to face a Dead Apostle or a ghoul, I'm not fast or strong enough to fight them head on. Were I to do so, I'd be dead twice over. So I learned to cheat. I use whatever I can find to win. Because that's what this Grail War is all about, Berserker. Strip away whatever idealistic wishes the other Masters have, or whatever cruel desire they wish to fulfill, and all you have is a bunch of people willing to do whatever they think they can get away with to win.

"If we're lucky, we'll face Masters and Servants who limit themselves by a code of honor; what they think they can get away with is much smaller than others. On the other hand, if we face someone unscrupulous, we must be prepared to face them with guile, trickery, and flat-out cheating."

He glanced over at the Monkey King. "I think you're no stranger to trickery, are you?"

He set the prepared weapons side and did a quick inspection of his equipment. He didn't carry much, other than a folder knife and a roll of duct tape in his pockets, his cell phone, and his M1911A in a conceal-carry holster tucked under his armpit within easy reach. His black suit did well in hiding the bulge of the holster.

"Go have fun at the docks," he told Berserker. "Try to make things look less like magic and more like, say, a freight accident. But just give enough of a hint that it'll draw the other Masters and Servants out. After all, what's life without a little fun?"

He gave his sidearm one last inspection, pulling back the slide and checking the clip. Then he tucked it back into its hidden holster. "In the meantime, I'll scout out the city."
 
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Sasebo - The Nightshade Cafe

Despite the peculiarity of the late-night working hours of the cafe, the number of people present, usually in pairs or well alone, seemed to indicate that their business hours were welcomed by some of the late-nighters of Sasebo. A quick scan over the menu offered a glimpse into their history; a need for late-night service by the large population of after-hours workers at the nearby seaside ports had prompted for the cafe to stay open later and later, eventually going as far as to thematically change its name. Indeed, a large portion of the patrons seemed to be blue-collar workers, with a splash of adventurous young folks in the mix.

The waitress drew the four cautious individuals to a secluded booth near the front corner of the shoppe, seated with their sides to a window. The outside world was dim, street concrete cast upon by a variety of neon glows. A thin film of condensation clung to the glass, courtesy of the cold sea's proximity. Handing out the menus with a cheerful smile that betrayed the hours she worked in, she asked for d\beverage preferences before offering them time to decide on their meals.

In the dark hours, the cafe was pleasantly quiet, citizens offering respect to the draining wills of hard workers long past their expiration date for the day. Few others walked outside, save the occasional traveler headed home, plastic bag in hand for an awfully late meal.

Across the street, a half-obscured white rabbit sniffed at the air, red eyes staring intently at the cafe window.


Sasebo - The Docks

Despite the hours, the docks of Sasebo were well alive in most cases. It took a few tries for the Monkey King to find a place to cry havoc without being seen immediately by a host of worn sailors and dock workers. The one she had found in particular, a long stretch of cargo containers saddled alongside calm and frigid waters, was her best bet. Though halogen lamps cast burning glares upon various zones around the dock, the vast majority of it was cast into total darkness, alit only by the moon and distant whispers of nightlife light. Whatever she was to do, nevertheless, would require a hint of restraint and critical-thinking. A guard could very well have been stationed nearby. What she needed was to draw the attention of Masters and Servants (wherever they were in the city) whilst simultaneously preventing her cover from being blown totally and completely to the normal world.

Her Master certainly didn't give her an easy task.


Sasebo - Exploring the city

Perhaps it was because of the significant lack of Servants that had been summoned thus far, perhaps it was something else... Harry found it difficult to find even the most minute of signs lending to the existence of magic borne of another's involvement. There were, of course... only two other pairs he could have been looking for, which didn't lend to an easy mission. Unlike in a Dead Apostle, whose signs spread far and wide quickly, a Master and Servant would have taken precautions to hide their presence almost immediately. What he was left with, in the end, was a casual stroll that enlightened him to the layout of the city more than anything.

A peculiar thing finally came his way, however, as he took down a secluded path between residential buildings. It was almost missed as he walked past it before halting. A terminal backalley, almost too short to be called even that. What remained of it was not something he could have expected, even as a man anticipating the summoning of other Servants.

The space was blackened, as if someone had charred every inch of it with a lighter held close, painting it across like a black brush. A potted plant was sliced in half at a diagonal angle, and the remaining edges and dirt held within seemed as if it too had been subject to the same ashen brush. Whatever had occurred here, especially given the almost too methodical cracking of cement, seemed especially magical. Had someone summoned a Servant here? Had someone already dueled?

A tiny sound of shuffling caught his behind.

A sense of eerie was the first thing to reach his mind, as he found himself standing before a pair of hooded child-sized figures, no older than 8 years. In the darkness their faces were obscured, as were their arms beneath the raincoat. Nothing was said.
 
"Even? Maybe." He teased as they continued to walk, his mind focused on what she said. If he used the Grail to bring his father's killer to justice, that wouldn't be wrong... Would it? Certainly not. It would be fine. It had to be. While he didn't necessarily want to participate in the Grail War, it could work in his favor. All he had to do was win.

All they had to do was win.

Making small talk as they explored Sasebo, taking in the sights while Tristan explained things she didn't seem to understand. Tristan had honestly never considered how strange 'his' era could be perceived. Was having a bath or shower really that strange? Tristan considered it a basic thing, but to think that in the past a warm bath was a luxury. It was so... Strange.

Eventually, they came up to a cafe and Tristan immediately knew something was off based upon Agamede's reaction. Following her line of sight, he observed the other duo, a slow realization coming over him. They were a master and servant, like he and Agamede.

Surely they didn't intend on fighting in the middle of the street... Right? Tristan would prefer to avoid a fight all together, in all honesty. And luckily, he got his wish. Sort of. A waitress stepping in and making extreme leaps of judgement made everything work out... Somehow.

"She's working on a medieval cosplay. Trying to get a feel for it before she shows it off." He explained aware her peculiar attire, not having even considered how strange it'd be for her to walk around in her armor. Hands in his pockets, Tristan tried to remain as casual as possible, his gaze flickering between the woman and the man. Following the waitress's directions, he walked alongside them with Agamede. Leaning over, he listened to Agamede's concerns while glancing over to who he assumed was the servant. "A double date is like... Uh. What would you call it? Courtship? Yeah, you know how people usually court each other? Nowadays, sometimes people do it in groups - 'double date'." Tristan explained with a shrug, a slight smirk on his face as he glanced over to the others before looking back to Agamede.

"We'll just talk. See where they stand... What their intentions are. Like, what they want to do with the grail. We'll just have to see where it goes. And yeah, I'm sure this cafe has yogurt. People freakin' love yogurt." He remarked as they were led to the booth and he sat down with Agamede across from the others, taking the menu while expressing his gratitude. Focusing on it, he read over what was available before humming.

"I'm really feeling like cake. It's Okay to eat cake this late at night, right?" He said, glancing over the menu to the woman. "The name is Tristan, and this is Lancer." He introduced them, deciding to just be civil.
 
The whole situation was like a whirlwind. Everything happened far too quickly for Sylvia to fully make sense of what exactly they had just gotten themselves into, but Gawain's masterful handling of the situation put her at ease. It seemed he had a knack for this sort of thing. Maybe it was his knightly charm. She looked toward Gawain with a look of silent appreciation and followed along into the cafe, taking a seat at the booth. She ordered tea and looked over the menu, searching for something without meat, before settling on some delightful sounding tofu dish.



Putting away her menu, Sylvia clasped her hand in front of her on the table and looked over to the other Master and Servant with a warm smile. Enemies or not, they didn't strike her as bad people. They also seemed quite fond of sweets. It was odd, she had expected their enemies to be less... normal? After Tristan introduced the two of them, Sylvia replied in a soft, pleasant tone. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance." She glanced over at Gawain. "My name is Sylvia, and this is Saber." Her voice was temperate and at-ease, completely devoid of any hostility. She looked over the Master that sat across from her for a moment. "And I certainly won't judge you for the cake." She giggled softly.



As her tea arrived, Sylvia softly blew the steam off of the surface of the liquid before taking a small sip. "Well, I suppose we are in this city for the same reasons." She wasn't certain why she said something so obvious, perhaps it just seemed like the best way to start the inevitable conversation. Honestly, though, the situation should have felt more stressful. The cafe seemed to exude a calm, homely aura however, and it somehow made even this situation feel natural. "Or, I suppose, for the same goal. Reasons are an entirely different matter." She glanced out the window, thinking she saw something. Probably just a cat. "I am curious about your reasons, though... neither of you strike me as cruel people, which is a bit of a relief." On one hand, Sylvia had a habit of trying to find the good in everyone, on the other she had learned to sense when obvious danger was brewing. Still, these people were their enemies. They would probably end up in conflict with them at some point. Lingering on that thought brought only sadness. Sylvia looked toward Gawain. He had sworn an oath to her. She could not betray that oath, nor her goal over her feelings. But she would have time to reaffirm herself later, for now they were just having conversation... and also dinner. It hadn't occurred to her, but she was actually quite hungry.
 
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"Oh... s-so, she thinks... we're...?"

Now knowing what a 'double date' actually was, Lancer would've looked a lot more uncomfortable than she already was, if the opportunity of getting to eat even more hadn't positively balanced out that concern. Her eyes eagerly whirling through the pages of the menu, she saw it: 'Summer Berries with Natural Yogurt'. She was so happy she could almost cry. What had she done for two whole servings in one night to be bestowed upon her?

As Tristan introduced the two, and 'Sylvia' did so in return, Lancer gave a small and genuine smile in response to Sylvia's own, before her glance trailed down to the table somewhat sadly. At some point, they were going to have to fight, weren't they...? Even after just meeting her, Lancer wasn't sure if she'd ever have the courage to attack someone like Sylvia. If the circumstances weren't so, she almost felt like they could be good friends.

"Hello..." she quietly introduced, though still somewhat too shy to introduce herself further than that. She wasn't sure about the Saber, on the other hand. He certainly seemed nice and charismatic, but it was almost like he was trying to make her embarrassed. If her hair took on that inexplicable gold tint in public... she'd be in big trouble! If only he could understand...

Using the menu to block the line of sight for a little while, Lancer pointed her requests to the waitress as she came around to take everyone's orders.
"The... um... summer berries, please. And could I get a glass of... warmed up milk with that?" Though the order was somewhat strange - ordering something from the breakfast menu this late at night - for the sake of the elegant seaside café's reputation, the smiley waitress seemed to go along with the request.

Golden eyes looking out of the window next to her, Agamede took a moment to take in the cool, seaside air that slightl permeated into the room. Though she could still feel that slight 'foulness', she couldn't deny that as different as everything was to her beloved hometown, the beauty of this area was undeniable. Bringing up a finger to the condensed water on the window, she felt the glass with a fingertip, making a little dot and rubbing the moisture inbetween her fingers. The sound of the drinks arriving caused her to break out of her train of thought.

Slowly reaching over the table, she clutched two brown sugar cubes between her fingers, holding them over her warm glass of milk before crushing them and sprinkling them into her drink. Picking up the glass with both hands after swirling it around a little, Lancer began to glug down the warm, sugary milk, letting out a quiet sigh of content as she downed the thing in one go.

At Sylvia's question of why they want the Grail, Lancer kept her grip on the glass timidly tight for a moment. ...There was no reason not to tell them, was there?
"Neither of us truly wish for anything the Grail can provide, from what I can tell..." Lancer began quietly, not knowing about Tristan's intent of justice as she spoke up. "We are fighting to provide some sort of 'safety'. Safety from a disaster, in the case that we are amidst competitors too cruel or ignorant to know of the 'consequences' foolish wishes can provide. Neither of you strike me as that sort..."

Was that the right way to put it? She wasn't sure. Looking into her glass stained cloudy white, she dipped her finger into the bottom of the glass, picking up brown granules of sugar and licking them off.
"I mostly came into this world to protect once more, and..." she smiled slightly to Tristan, though she looked sadly at the table again. "...My Master seems worth protecting."
 
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It was almost fortunate happenstance that Harry came across this terminal back alley between two residential buildings. Years of field work left him with a deep appreciation for taking in the smaller details that others would simply ignore. An unusual cut of a potted plant, for instance, drew his eye. A blackening shroud over the alley, for another, sent an unearthly pall over the area that made his skin crawl. He strode into the charred alley with silent steps and a hand near his suit jacket, ready to draw his conceal-carry.

He knelt by the assailed pottery and noted how even the dirt seemed to have been perfectly cut. The same ashen pall covered it all.

His brows furrowed and his eyes narrowed. Only a finite number of things in this world could deliver cuts that precise: master swordsmen on a level not seen in centuries, the legendary Mystic Eyes of Death Perception, certain powerful creatures...and, of course, Servants.

The cement around him was also cracked, in spider-webs from several epicenters. He'd seen damage like that before -- small impact craters, as if something heavy -- or something powerful -- had stepped there.

It all screamed magic. Or a Servant.

It especially screamed of recent combat.

Have the first blows of this Grail War already been struck? he thought.

He heard tiny shuffling behind him and instantly dropped into a crouch with his M1911A coming smoothly to his hand.

What he saw didn't convince him to lower his weapon, either.

A pair of hooded children, no older than eight or so, stood at the open end of the alley. Their features were obscured by their low-drawn cowls. Eeriness wafted from them like a cloying smoke, assailing Harry's instincts, causing them to scream in his mind at potential danger. Something was inherently wrong about these two.

As a precaution, he mumbled under his breath: "Circuit, break." What little od he possessed flowed through the now-open channels of his poor-quality Magic Circuits, filling the tattooed runes on one arm and both legs. He put those tattoos in place long ago for a reason -- to give him the edge he needed in a fight against opponents that often outmatched him in physical ability or in magical power. His arm now possessed the strength of a giant, while his legs had enough power to launch him into the air with superhuman agility and height in case he needed to escape.

"Identify yourselves," he told them in a louder voice. "I know power when I see it."
 
A pleasant, quiet atmosphere, compared to the taverns that he used to frequent at the request of younger knights. A bright cleanliness far removed from smoky wood and warm lights that cast long shadows. Large windows that looked out to the rest of the world. As others ordered, he found his eyes drawn to the summer moon once more, moonlit eyes the same brightness as that celestial object. Once the subject of cake was set, Gawain turned his attention to the menu, eyes scanning over the exotic items that he had never even heard of. But with no money, he'd be imposing on his Master, and so, he asked for a simple brew of 'coffee'.

As the waitress returned with their orders, a black brew was placed before the knight, one that had a particularly aromatic scent. The flavor itself was more akin to mud, but perhaps an overtly bitter flavor was in fashion in a world where sugar was all too common? While his fellow Servant delighted herself in yogurt and warm, sugar-laden milk, Gawain acclimatized himself to the strange flavors of this modern era, slowly sipping at the black coffee.

The words of Lancer rang true in his ears. He didn't detect a duplicitous nature in either Master or Servant as they spoke about their intentions in this Grail War nor did those intentions clash with Sylvia's own. Gawain turned to Sylvia slightly, nodding once to indicate that he had no qualms with these individuals, before sitting back once more, sipping.

Eyes trained on the red glimmer half hidden in the shadows of the street.
 
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