Fate/Shattered Gospel

Marianne

Archer paused, unsure of how to explain her grim outlook to someone who so effortlessly tossed bleakness aside. "Well..." Shinobu was faster, the Servant's train of thought rendered pointless with little more than a hug and cheery exclamations about the future. She shuffled up the stairs without a word, minding her head at the top of the bus interior. In the stop-and-start stream of other tourists boarding the vehicle she made sure to stay close to her charge, dropping her suitcase below and plopping into the seat. Sealing away the noise of the tarmac and terminal outside with glass and metal accomplished little, as voices in a dozen languages chattered over pre-recorded guide videos.

Eventually they ran out of bodies to pack in, the brakes released, and they were gone from the airport grounds. Mary nodded along to the talk of their ice cream enterprise. For all the things the summoning process had informed her of, the complete guide to working a food truck hadn't been bestowed upon the Servant. It sounded very much involved, a world full of strategy and chance a little bit like her own... But it felt so much simpler to storm a great prison, or steal from invading armies. It was fun to entertain the fancy of going back, of waiting a table or... distributing ice cream on the street side, but she still had difficulty imagining herself living such a fantasy. What if things didn't work out? Would she even be any good at it? The logistics made her fingers feel numb and her knees twisted and weak.
"Maybe..." For a second she thought to voice her fears, turning her gaze away from the nearest tiny TV screen to the weight on her shoulder. Shinobu's sleeping face answered her.

It wasn't as if her Master was a very conspicuous magus, and nor was she a very noticeable familiar, they could at least try. Maybe they could even get away with it.

Time rolled by, and with it, the road into Paris. Congested, broad highways gave way to congested, narrow streets. Glimpses of the surrounding greenery were traded for denser meshes of solemn, looming buildings. She counted the streets as they passed in perpetual slow motion, the clock ticking quickly but their wheels held in place by traffic and regular stops. It wasn't a warzone yet, and if she had her way it wouldn't have to become one but still she habitually glossed rooftops and alleyways for those who could be watching. Magi were said to prefer secrecy and that normally forebode things like attacking a packed bus full of tourists, but it was a poor bet to think that anyone in the position to win a Grail War cared a lick about ethics. Finally, the threatening shapes of the concrete jungle melted away to the shining waves of the Seine. They drove over the bridge, and with a final chime, found the bus stop they needed: The corner just opposite the parvis of Notre-Dame de Paris.

"We're here," She said, shaking her Master lightly as their fellow travelers marched by. The aisle cleared, and the Servant stood up, hoisting their stowed luggage and waiting for Shinobu to join the procession. They left the bus, and the bus left them to their business. Notre Dame towered above Île de la Cité. Given its own sanctimonious spacing upon what amounted to its very own island, the buttressed fortress of God ruled over its surroundings with a gravitas to be expected of the Gothic style. Time itself was etched on those yellowing stone walls, the pockmarks of age the accumulated evidence of a difficult, defeat filled history. So many of her own memories contained the building, it was almost like finding an old friend again. Maybe it could be that way this time around, the Revolution had not been kind to the building. Mary looked over the sightseeing crowds gathered in front of the building, photographing the fenced off main door and thronging about those which were open. "I don't detect anything in the vicinity. We should be safe to proceed." Mary said quietly, staring into the red-lit countdown of the opposing crossing light.


Walter Moen

'To war,' were words he never wanted to set his course by, but it was the simplest truth of their situation. Walter nodded his head solemnly, turning with Berserker to regard the world outside. Their enemies were numerous, six other Servants and at least six Masters did not make an inexhaustible supply of foes but it was more raw power than any magus could hope to encounter in their lifetime. Any one of the familiars summoned for the war would have little trouble laying waste to the entire city surrounding them, which posed the most disquieting possibility and one that he chose to set aside. Within the realm of what he'd been asked: He simply did not know. He hadn't had the time or the resources to establish a drag-net of bounded fields across the city yet. There was the possibility of using familiars but the types he was confined to would out the nature of his Magecraft almost immediately to the trained eye. Using any of his Magecraft would, really.

"For now, you'll know them better than I can. If we're around a Servant, you should be able to sense them. If they're trying to hide, there's no way I'm gonna be able to reveal them. It's possible we're still alone, and it's also possible the abundance of leylines and such in the city is masking the other servants. The others may have been summoned outside of France, or are yet to be summoned. We'll only know once the battle begins... Which should be today, or tonight. Magi don't like to do their thing in public, and around here there's a lot of innocent people we don't want to get in the mix." Walter took a deep breath. There were other issues of mercy, but none that he wanted to raise so soon after summoning. They weren't particularly strong convictions either. The Masters were what they were, he hoped they would give up when defeated... Servants on the other hand, even if they weren't Berserkers, were all figures of legend who would happily fight and die for a cup. It wasn't even a matter of respecting that ambition: They simply wouldn't have a chance unless they struck to kill. He looked at the Servant to his side. In that regard, he'd been truly fortunate to summon a class so quick to ignore the moral questions. Resolved, he set his jaw, staring out at the sunlit world.

Oh, right. He couldn't drag an actual giant through the streets, especially when he was dressed like an Aztec warrior.

...

Especially not to a nice restaurant. He scratched his chin as Berserker voice his hunger, running over the options. Well, he'd just break it easy. "If you can assume spiritual form, we'll be free to wander the city and find some chow." That, and hopefully somewhere to sleep that night. "If not, well, you're gonna be waiting here a bit while I go grab something. As luck would have it, food's pretty much life in this country. Hell, even the junk food is better made. Point is, there'll be plenty to eat."

At least, he dearly hoped the Servant was feeling hungry in the conventional sense. If it was happy hour on hearts and human sacrifice they were going to have to have a very brief and frank discussion, but he didn't get that kind of vibe even from such a frenzied warrior. All he'd need would be a day or two to establish a series of bounded fields. Just like the one that made the Servant's summoning a cinch, they'd draw more than enough mana to keep him materialized and fighting. Albiet only if no one interfered with them, and also assuming that the store of natural mana in the area wasn't exhausted already. There were other mages out there, doing all sorts of things with the Greater Source he depended on. Walter watched Berserker closely, waiting for an answer. He hadn't complained about the flow of mana yet, it was entirely possible that his own energies were sufficient for day to day maintenance. Asking was out of the question, it was essentially admitting his lack of capability as a magus to the person depending on his abilities, which left waiting to see if he was an exhausted husk in a few days time.
 
"For now I feel nothing," the Servant replied finally after some time spent focusing on his surroundings. "But I am not built for subterfuge or information gathering, Master," he added, and there was a hint of... sarcasm? Humor? There was something there out of the norm for a Berserker, but the stone cold expression worn on his craggy features told no further tale. Something about the rest of the Magi's explanation rankled the warrior and he snorted derisively. "No innocents will fall during any battle I partake in, no matter my state as a Berserker or the foolishness of my enemy. This is our war and no one elses," he said, sounding legitimatley offended by the idea of an innocent civilian being felled by his hand or his enemy's. This was his war. He and Walter's. Not an innocent woman or child's.

He for a brief moment remembered his past life. Leading men in war. The harsh punishments he doled out to those too zealous in their interpretation of what war meant. To Tlahuicole war was holy, a dance weaved by rival countries, by rival armies. Not the civilians caught between political quarreling. A flash of anger went through him as he imagined an enemy Magi or rival Servant being foolish enough to harm the innocent in his presence. Doing so would be a death sentence in more ways than one. His right hand clenched, tightenning the muscles through his entire right arm, and he let go, a breath leaving his barrel chest as he calmed.

A moment passed as he heard his Master's suggestion, and he was left there standing in stillness. "I... cannot," the Servant replied. Though he had willed his weapon away, he could not manage to do the same for himself. He wondered why for a brief moment, and he knew well enough why. His mind was a fractured bauble of his ethics as a leader, his morals as a warrior, and at core of it was his resolution, his ideal - to die in battle. He would not vanish into a mist of mana until he was felled. He was in this body until he took his last breath in this war, whether he and his Master liked it or not. "If I must wait here I must, but I would like to move, to feel the air against my skin before war calls to me again and I once more meet oblivion. A poncho, something. Get me something so that I may move somewhat freely, Master," the Servant said. His tone stayed ever the same, but the gentle plea within that sentence was unmistakeable.

"Ah, and bring something with maize in it," the Servant added without missing a beat. "And meat."
 
“Guh?”

Slurping up a treacherous trail of drool, Shinobu slowly shifted herself off of her Servant’s shoulder. The ride had been comfortably slow, traffic turning the bus into a rocking cradle more anything else. Her eyes squinted at the sun’s iridescent halo, before she shuffled to her feet. With backpack slung over her shoulders, and her bright red suitcase rolled out from her seat, the young girl followed after Mary as the two of them exited, one hand combing tangled locks. Drowsiness still clung to her mind stubbornly, but all that changed once she hopped out of the bus.

Japan had its fancy architecture and tall buildings too. Heck, she had been to Tokyo and was well-accustomed to seeing the landscape dominated by steel and glass. But in the face of all the old-timey-ness of the grand cathedral, as well as its surrounding buildings, Shinobu couldn’t help but let out a squeal, smartphone in hand once more to join other sightseers in snapping an array of photographs. From the massively tall doors to the intricately carved flying buttresses to the strikingly life-like gargoyles, this explosion of culture had her taking pictures even while they were crossing the street. And the plaza! Tourists clogged up the space, but after being in an airplane and then a bus, the plaza just felt so…open!


“This is soooo cool!”
Shinobu laughed, taking the one-eyed woman by the hand, “Let’s go in then! Gotta pay our respects to the Overseer and all!”

With that in mind, the two spent the next twenty minutes in line, slowly oozing their way into the church. Who knew that an architectural and historical landmark that had no entrance fee would attract so many people?



The vast space within the cathedral would have produced quite a wonderful echo if the crowds of tourists and shutter clicks didn’t drastically remove so much of the atmosphere. On high walls, stained glass windows let in multi-colored lights, while a choir could be heard in one of the chapels within. It was, in many ways, awe-inspiring.

But Shinobu didn’t take pictures.

Meandering through pathways and in between pillars, she took her time, taking in her surroundings, drinking in the reserved, reverent atmosphere.


“Mary?”
The youth tilted her head towards her chaperone as they walked up a flight of stairs. “Tell me when you find the Father.”
 
Sun Wukong’s face, intonation had betrayed his annoyance. And in that brief glimpse of emotion was humanity that intrigued even Artem, aloof as he was. Many a hero had been written, depicted as bombastic, yet also caricatures that stood taller than could be rightfully imagined. This, however, was something utterly human, a forgivable sort of petulance, like the flickers of resentment between slighted friends before they inevitably reconciled. It was endearing, and in its own way, more special than any set of golden armor.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot, Great Wukong.” Artem grinned, amused. “You are loud, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Sometimes, it can even be fun.”

“And speaking of fun, masters are so rarely fun, don’t you think? Truthfully, I’m master in name only, I’d prefer if we acted more along the lines of partners, maybe. If only because being a master is such a drag.” Artem pantomimed the cracking of a whip. “As for women and food, it’s a bit late, so it may be a little light on the women part… unless you’re a night-club person. So are you a night-club person, or did the Grail not tell you what a night-club is? Would make sense...”

“In any case, yes, let’s go pre-celebrate your victory, Wukong.”

@Sightles
 
SUN WUKONG



Night Club

Yes, he knew what a night club was. Vague descriptions invaded his mind, filling him with a semi-accurate picture of night clubs. "Yes, I do believe a night club might be more of my speed." Wukong glanced down at his armor, "However, I believe my armor won't be appropriate for this kind of celebration. Let's find me some more fitting attire, before we party the night away."

"And as for your other assertion, I think all masters are fun." Wukong started, as the pair started to walk out of the stadium, Wukong searching as the pair traveled, looking for what his mind reminded him of what a clothing store looked like, "Your lives are so boring, and then, for a brief time, you control the most powerful beings on earth. Before either dying, being defeated, or becoming victorious. It's tragically hilarious." Wukong smirked, as he glanced down at Artem. "But despite that, you don't seem to be a boring person at all. The fact that you're my master is secondary." Wukong added, turning his attention back to searching for a clothing store.

"As for the partner idea, I'd prefer if you looked at it a different way. It's not like the two of us are in business together. You summoned me specifically, and I assume you know of me. To me, that's a sign of friendship and respect." Wukong, now grinning widely, placed a heavy armored hand on Artem's shoulder, "It only makes sense to return the feeling in kind, and as a good friend, I refuse to put my master in harm's way." Wukong removed his hand from Artem's shoulder, but still held his friendly grin, "You mages are fragile creatures, and get so caught up in dangerous, or hurtful things. Why would I put a friend at risk, when I could do it all at no cost?" Wukong continued to beam at Artem for a moment before turning back to looking for clothing.



9 hours later

A whole spent enjoying the pleasures of the City of Light. Wukong had found clothes that fitted him, looking like a youth of this era quite well.

The night was one of celebration. Gambling on in certain places led to drinking in others, which led to pleasant company in others. Wukong never seemed to tire and every moment he was just as lively as he had been when he had been summoned. He was truly the life of the party.

Stomach full, clothes stained with various fluids, and smelling like the inside of a tobacco factory, Sun Wukong exited the last club they had visited for the night. They're sleepless venture led them out into the daylight, a sight Sun Wukong beamed brightly at.

Despite the heavy partying, Sun Wukong drank in the daylight, taking a deep breath. Looking back to Artem, whom he felt slightly bad for as Wukong felt he had dragged him around the whole late night and morning, "
Well, now would be a good as time as any to visit the church, or what have you." Wukong started, as he stretched a bit, "We can figure out the situation, along with what servants have been summoned. Seems a good place as any to start." Wukong finished, as he curiously sniffed the lapel of his shirt.

He absolutely reeked, causing him to slightly pull back. However, it was a good reek. It was the proof of a night of merriment, and memories, something Wukong would never be unhappy to do.

Glancing back at Artem, Wukong had smug smirk on his face, "That is, unless my indomitable master would rather go back home and sleep. I wouldn't want to keep my master up past a point he could function." Wukong smirks blatantly shown he was teasing, maybe almost testing, his master. "You mages do need your rest."

In all honesty, Wukong didn't care much for what the Father of the church had to tell him. He was more interested in pushing his master, to see how far his master would go and operate under duress. Sun Wukong had no intention of ever endangering his master, nor did he have any intention of harm ever befalling him. However, while the Grail War was still young, it would be good to see how his master would react. A night of merriment is almost as tiring as the day of battle that usually precedes, or secedes, it. To see if Artem was willing to solider on, would only be one more reason to respect his master.

@Shizuochan
 
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The hustle and bustle of tourists milling about inside the cathedral had become extraordinarily familiar to the priest after the past few hours. Kelly quietly watched the crowd, which was illuminated ever so often by eager tourists who wanted to preserve the image of Notre Dame permanently, no-flash-photography rules be damned. The priest scratched at the back of his neck, letting out a sigh. It seemed dangerous to use Notre Dame for this Grail War, it seemed downright foolish to allow visitors during the process. He had tried to convince the Archdiocese to close the cathedral for the time being, under the guise of some restorative effort, but it had been insisted that life had to continue as normal for the people of Paris, and that such a thing might lead to questions. Frankly, the whole situation seemed solidly out of his hands at the moment. Another camera flash lit up the room. It was lucky that Isabella was in the back, otherwise she probably would have started confiscating phones and giving lectures by now. Kelly chuckled to himself at the thought.

The priest's eyes skimmed through the crowd that was continuously flooding through the cathedral's doors. Frankly, he wasn't certain what exactly he was supposed to be looking for. His particular condition had always made it difficult, if not impossible for him to detect magical energy, so even if a Servant were to walk in the door, he was unlikely to detect them. If such a thing were to happen, one of the numerous Bounded Fields around Notre Dame would certainly notice them, at least if they weren't hiding their presence, but Isabella would be the one to notice something like that. No, currently he was trying to pick the War's participants out of the crowd with sheer intuition. Luckily, he had developed a pretty solid eye for detail over the years, a skill he desperately hoped would aid him here.

Two young women entered the cathedral. At first, there was nothing much to tip Kelly off about their nature. Sure, one of them wore an eyepatch, but with the number of oddities that passed through a place such as this, a mere eyepatch wasn't much of a curiosity. No, what caught Kelly's eye was a very subtle difference. While more of the sightseers were looking at the cathedral, the girl with the eyepatch, and to a somewhat... lesser extent, the young girl that accompanied her, seemed to be looking for something, or possibly someone. Kelly scratched his chin.

"Hmm, could be."

The priest moved to casually intercept the pair at the top of a certain staircase. If they were a Master-Servant pair, he was having considerable trouble discerning which of the pair was which. Oh well, perhaps such a thing wasn't too important. The realization of how utterly out of place he was became stronger by the second. The cross jingled around his neck as he walked toward the pair. Lord, I know we haven't talked in a while, but if there was EVER a time I needed some divine support... The priest put on the most natural-looking smile he could manage, stopping a few feet in front of the two girls.

"Well hello there ladies, enjoying the cathedral?"

A warm-hearted chuckle resonated in his chest. He noticed the t-shirt one of the women was wearing. 'I <3 Kyoto'. He hadn't heard anything about any Master from Japan, but then very few of the participants had actually been identified.

"You just seemed like you were looking for something, I'd be happy to help if I can. Were you two planning to meet someone here?"

The priest adjusted the cross at his neck. Well, he supposed it was better than opening with "Here for the Grail War are ya?"
 
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Marianne

Every minute spent in line left the Servant tapping her foot ever more anxiously against the pavement. Rather than staring at the facade as most of the other guests chose to she directed her gaze outwards, watching across the river for observers. They wouldn't be targeted, that much was certain, but if this was the neutral ground all parties had to meet at she wanted to be done with it and gone before they chanced bumping into an opponent on their way out. All the more so if...

They passed into Notre Dame without incident. It somehow felt larger on the inside. The immovable, stoic arches and imposing towers bloomed into a warm, vibrant interior. Blue and gold wove in her eye, glittering alongside ornate pews all the way to the apse, a blaze of pious opulence. They had sought to give God's radiance shape, and Mary begrudgingly admitted to herself that it was a good shot. It hadn't come to life before her eyes the same way all those years ago, but that was without the benefit of modern lighting. What little alterations had been made, which battle scars had been patched over, had enhanced the cathedral's spectacle.

It didn't take them long to wander away from the noisy crowds. The tour wasn't exactly something either was looking for, and as Shinobu progressed into the immense building Mary stayed glued to her path, sweeping the interior for clergy separate from the rest. Who was this Overseer, and what would set them apart? She was working form nothing, other than assumption that they probably wouldn't be mixed in with the regular staff. Her eye caught something, and the green orb briefly locked with the prying eyes of a man upstairs. Her cold glare held steady as he scratched at his chin, her movement taking the two out of sight almost as quickly as they'd entered it. He hadn't looked like a priest, even if he appeared to be dressed like one. If they'd actually just been made that quickly, it was a feat befitting someone sent to oversee the war.

Archer followed Shinobu closely up the stairs, taking steps on tip toe to see over the precipice ahead of them as they neared the top. "Understood," She replied lowly, her voice dry and given from unmoving lips. "But I think-"

"Well hello there ladies, enjoying the cathedral?"

Mary took a protective step forward to her Master's side immediately. "It's very pretty," She replied. If he was an Overseer, why play innocent? The Servant fell into silence, her body stilled as he explained away his approach. Just as it had been at the entrance, she felt his eyes probe for information, followed their flicker over the details. Even being noticed eroded Espionage's hold in the world, the immense flare of energy that was a Servant beginning to slip from beyond the cover. Hers stayed fixed, however, boring accusingly into the Father. Although it was the face she'd walked in wearing, it was hard not to read an angry glare into the tense, serious expressions the Servant made. Even if they were planning to meet someone, it wouldn't be her to give up that information for free. She glanced down to her side, waiting for her Master to make the call.



Walter Moen

Walter smiled contentedly as his Berserker swore off killing the innocent. It was a matter of course for himself, he was a healer after all, but the logical part of him had imagined that the Servants would be more attached to the easiest method of acquiring the energy they did battle with. Well, most of them didn't get where they ended up by taking the easy path, either. Good for him, he thought, because it wasn't going to to get any easier now that they had a Grail War to fight. The next words to come out of his Servant's mouth weren't as expected either. Without a possibility of concealing his Servant's physical presence, which was almost as conspicuous as his spiritual one... They were assuredly going to be battling against not only the constraints of the magical war they'd been thrust into, but how far they could go without attracting large amounts of public attention. His heartfelt smile tugged a bit as his mind processed the implications. It was not a requirement for Magi to operate at night, something he took for granted, it was merely a logical extension of their reclusive nature. For them, it would be compulsory. Though, a Berserker class almost guaranteed that with their penchant for destruction anyway.

"Eh, we'll work around it," He said, glossing it over for the moment. "A poncho will be easy enough though, if worst comes to worst we can get you a raincoat or something. They let me run around with this thing just fine," he nudged his backpack against the wall, electing to leave 'that thing' for the time he'd be running errands. "So a poncho and some food. Hope you don't mind spicy." He turned and made to leave the alleyway, spotting the border of his bounded field and pausing just before crossing. "Ah, forget it. You'll know how to find me if anybody turns up looking for a fight." Space around him shimmered as he breached the illusory wall. To the eyes beyond, another American tourist had simply joined them on the street. He slid his phone out of his pocket, staring down at the cracked screen as he thumbed 'Chipotle in Paris' into his search bar. The tourist's goofy grin deflated as the simplest solution he'd ever dreamed up was marched out on a longer, longer blue path. Maybe there'd be some clothing stores along the way... Of course there'd be a clothing store along the way.

It had taken him a while, but he came back arms heavy with goods and wallet considerably lighter. Walter held out the warmer plastic bag to Berserker, a few bags full of wraps and tacos still steaming from the kitchen. He decided to let the Servant work out his eating arrangement. "I told them beef and pork, and they should all have that chili corn stuff on them. Bon appétit." Next he raised up a bag heavy with rolls of cloth. Some were decorated with rustic, pseudo native patterns and others were the harsh, glossy black of polyester. "After that you can meet your wardrobe. To level with you, I think you're about to challenge the integrity of 'one size fits all,' but anything is better than nothing." It wasn't like any clothing was going to hide the spirit's size, but with the poncho he might at least pass for a very foreign foreigner.
 
ANNABELLE (COUNT ROLAND)
Her master introduced himself, revealing his name. Her blue eyes squinted ever so slightly beneath the mask, though her expression changed from a curious one to an almost annoyed one. It was more or less at the mention of the legend, and Count Roland himself. Taking the drink offered by her Master, she simply placed it on a table next to her that was more or less standing, even through the mess in the room. However, she could see why her Master was confused by the Servant before him.

Her voice was probably the reason behind such doubts. Annabelle was pondering about the situation before her. Was she going to continue the lie like she did back when she was actually alive? Or would she at the very least, set the history right by telling her Master what actually happened back in her time. About what the people know of Sir Roland, her coward of a brother. Almost if not cursing beneath her lips, she simply ignored it for the moment.

To be told that they were in Paris, France really caught her attention the most. Looking towards the window, she could see that much had changed. Yes, there wasn't much she could recognize from what she had seen so far. "I was once familiar with this region yes.." Walking up to the window, she placed her hand on the wall next to it, her back turned against her Master.

"But now, much has changed.." Flashback of her memories ran through her mind, before she quickly broke out of her train of thoughts, turning back, she walked up to her Master. "I am Count Roland, yes, but you can call me Annabelle."

Her helmet de-materialized, showing her face to her Master. "The Roland you know about in history was actually me. Though back then, due to some.. Reasons, my identity was a secret held by a few trusted allies like Astolfo of the Twelve Peers, and the Great Holy Emperor, Charlemagne himself." Annabelle felt that at the moment, telling him the whole truth was probably not a wise choice.

Half-truth at best, and it also felt like it wasn't really neccessary to mention it. If her Master truly did want to know the specifics of the past, she would reveal it. "But, that's not important." The Paladin continued from where she left off. It was time to talk about the future ahead of them.

"Master.. I'll serve and stay loyal to you like I once did under Charlemagne himself. Until the Holy Grail War is over." The determination behind her words were brimming with confident.

"I would also assume that.. Since you've summoned me, the other Servants have been summoned as well." Gazing at the window once more, it seemed like the Holy Grail War was going to happen in France.

"So, are we staying here, or changing locations. Perhaps a walk around the streets of Paris would help me see how much has changed thus far." Looking at the room again, she felt squeezed in such a little room. Although it may be spacious or not, she felt the need to get out of there.
_____________________________
Master | Josef (@Sightles)
Location | Somewhere in Paris
Mentioned | None
Interactions | Josef (@Sightles)
 
The giant stood there listened to his Master, and he let out a light snort of approval. He seemed to be the adaptive sort. He had expected some sort of lamentation at the fact a stealthy approach would be nearly impossible with his Heroic Spirit, but he took it in stride. "Whatever you feel is best, Master," the warrior said as he turned away from the Magi, the smaller male appearing to prepare for his sojurn. He spared a glance at the backpack he had set aside. A bag full of valuables and magecraft tools, most likely. he filed it away in his mind - protect that object where necessary. A leftover habit from his time under Montezuma's employ. Guard duty was something he was no stranger too, but it was a duty he suffocated under and made him a restless sort, and as a spirit of the Berserker class, restlessness was not a preferred state to be in. He elected not to mention any of this to his Master though, finding a nearby closed top dumpster, leaned against it, and folded his arms over his broad chest once again. At the mention of a fight, the Servant wore a sincere smile for a brief moment. "You'll hear it before I find you, I assure you," he said dismissively. An ominous way to word it if there ever was one.

He watched as his Master left the enclosed sphere of their magical sanctuary, the Berserker left to his own devices for the time being. He leaned his head back, once more surveying the night sky shift slowly towards the morning. He was taken back to this same sight five hundred years past, watching the sky slowly change its colors through the jungle canopy. The sounds of rousing birds and the movement of his troops through the leafy brush. What he heard now was the occasional honk of an automobile horn, the sounds of a large city slowly rousing. They would have to make movement before long, and he wondered how his Master would move him with any form of safety. Of course, safety meant nothing to the Servant - the earlier and quicker a fight broke out, the better. But he had the logistics of it to consider, with what little his class left to him of his logic that is. He could feel frustration grow as he tried to go over the situation in his mind, and his mind outright rebelled at the thought of pondering anything more than the fight ahead.

Before he could be lost to his rising irritation, Walter returned. His nostrils flared as he immediately made out familiar scents, and the only other thing besides a good battle made his heart beat a tad faster - the hope for a good meal from home. Or at least, a derivative of something from his days. The aroma of maize was made out immediately, and the giant moved from his position against a dumpster and approached his Master. He fell to a sitting position at the exact spot he'd been initially summoned within, small pebbles knocked around as his massive frame hit the ground rear end first. He closed his legs in an indian position, nodding with some thankfulness to the action to his Master for what was brought to him. "My thanks," he said as a massive paw of a hand, reaching into one of the bags. He did not think to ask what was his Masters, what he had even gotten him - he smelled home, and the stomach that did not require sustenance for this mana supplied existence to persist nonetheless grumbled audibly. One taco was taken in hand, and with two fingers working the wrapping of it off, he practically inhaled it.

A satisfied grunt left his chest afterwards. "Beef. Mmm, yes. Corn," he murmured the ingrediants, nodding his head, lost in the satisfaction of what touched his tongue and now settled in his belly. He could almost forget about his purpose in that moment, enjoying food that reminded him of home. But with those memories came memories of eating such delicacies with his comrades. Comrades now long dead. Around a campfire that was, instead, now the cracked cement of an alleyway. He was not a soldier of Tlaxcaltec or Montezuma anymore. He was someone else's vassal now, in a strange hundreds of years later. His revelry ended there, though he still ate, but much less enthusiastically.

"Again, my thanks Walter," he said, licking his lips. His other hand reached for the bag of clothes now, tugging out the sheets of fabric and looking them over with curiosity in his eyes. "If we can move without being stopped thanks to my stature, what is our next step? Are we defensive or offensive, Master? Once this meal is finished, I am ready to fight."
 
It was falling apart, wasn’t it? As the Father approached, a scruffy-looking man who looked more at home in a smoky tavern than one of the world’s greatest religious monuments, Shinobu could already feel the façade of normality leaking out of her Servant. Definitely troublesome, and a part of her was afraid, having not expected Mary’s Personal Skill to be undone so easily, but on the other hand…

It was good to see that the Father was competent.

Peeking out to the side and smiling back at the older gentleman, the youth waved, cerulean eyes glittering. “Yeah,” Shinobu chirped, “It’s a super duper cool place! Seen pictures and all that, but, you know, it’s like, totally different from the pictures. Ten times better, really! 10 out of 10 for the ambience alone, if it wasn’t for, you know…”

The girl mimicked nosy photographers snapping picture after picture, before giggling.

“Oh, and you're totally correct! My friend and I are looking for relics and that, actually. You know, like saints’ bones or the Holy Grail? Figured it wouldn’t be in, like, a super public place, but, well…”

Shrugging helplessly, Shinobu’s smile faded a bit.

“Guess a super private place wouldn’t be accessible to the general public, either, eh?”
 
Kelly raised his eyebrows as the one-eyed woman's stare bored into him. Though he was incapable of sensing the magical energy in the air, he was painfully aware of the tension that was quietly building. He met her gaze for a moment, trying to discern the source of her cautious animosity. Thankfully, the small, bandaged girl behind her managed to break the uncomfortable silence. Kelly chuckled at the girl's enthusiastic response.

"It's a fine cathedral, glad to hear you two are enjoying your time here."

He nodded knowingly as the girl mimed taking a picture.

"You would think 'No Flash Photography' was straightforward enough. I'd hate to be them if a certain nun notices."

As the girl mentioned searching for relics, and specifically when the phrase 'Holy Grail' came out of her mouth, Kelly felt the corner of his mouth twitch, threatening the collapse of an already nervous gesture. He forced a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Oh, relics huh? This city's chock full of things like that, though I can't necessarily speak for their authenticity... if you're here for the Grail though, I suppose you've come to the right place."

The priest's voice shifted to a slightly more serious tone for a moment as he finally dropped the small talk.

"If you two wouldn't mind coming with me for a moment..."

He motioned for them to follow him and began heading towards a room near the back of the cathedral. As they drifted farther away from the noise of the crowd, he began:

"My name's Albert Kelly. I'm the Overseer for this Grail War."

He casually knocked on the door, waited a moment, and then opened it with a loud creak. Inside was a small chapel, decorated with a few pews and a rather modest altar. A young woman in a habit rose up from the floor, where she had evidently been praying, as the Father entered the room.

The priest motioned from Shinobu and Mary to the nun.

"This young lady is Isabella Aiza, she'll be serving as my assistant, helping keep things under wraps and whatnot."

Isabella curtsied to the two guests, though her eyes seemed incredibly vigilant.

"I suppose you two are the first Master and Servant then. Welcome. As the Father said, I'll be assisting with his duties as Overseer."

Kelly nodded, speaking up again.

"Which leads me to what exactly my role here entails..."

The priest let out a sigh.

"Essentially, I'd appreciate it if you all could avoid causing too much of a scene. It wouldn't be good for anybody involved if this whole thing became public. Isabella and I can only cover up so much... Speaking of which, try to go easy on the monuments. History is a bit difficult to replace."

He looked back and forth between Shinobu and Mary, hoping somehow his casual request could save the china shop that was Paris from a veritable stampede. He continued, motioning toward Shinobu.

"Now, I could be wrong, but it seems to me that you're the Master here. If you happen to lose your Servant during the course of the Grail War, you are welcome to come here for sanctuary. It is neutral ground after all, so you'll be safe."

Kelly desperately hoped he wasn't lying to the girl. After realizing what he had said, however, he turned apologetically toward the one-eyed woman.

"Not that I'm expecting you to lose of course, it's more of a... uh... formality, really."

The priest adjusted his collar.

"I think that covers all of the basics, though I'm sure you two knew most of that already. Do you have any questions?"

He deeply hoped they didn't have questions, as he would almost certainly not know the answer to any of them, but it seemed like a required gesture all the same.
 
Marianne

Their standoff came to a sudden close as the girl behind Mary poked her head out and began to speak. The strain on her concealment lifted briefly as his attention flowed to her partner. Mary stepped aside, following her Master's lead as the girl cheerily played her part and casually mentioned their 'search' for the grail. It all made more sense than she expected it to, of course there was a key phrase in this sort of situation. She cursed her lack of knowledge, but refused to doubt her intuition as she stared down the seedy looking priest from the sidelines. The strain on his face made it clear: Keyword received. "Not at all," She said quietly, nodding her head to the priest as he turned and lead them off.

Silence clawed at the comfortable, human noises of the public quarter. Layer by layer the sounds of society and familiarity were stripped away, replaced by an echoing, mystical quiet. Only hymns and the whispers of the ancient structure's storied bones remained. She was marching towards the grail, something she became certain of as the man leading them introduced himself. Of course, there was no grail behind the door they paused at. This was only the beginning of a campaign she was horribly unlikely to see the end of. No, she had to be the end of it. The passage finally swung open, revealing a darkened sanctuary littered with the effects of the Faith. The smell of worship was strong, even before she passed into the room. She filtered through the door, wandering sideways along the wall before the Father began to introduce them. The Servant courteously nodded her head at Isabella, assuming that it was now their turn after gaining the names of their two hosts. Her eye snapped to her Master for a moment, before locking with the interrogating glare of the nun. She was probing it too. The connection between Master and Servant flared momentarily as Espionage fought against revelation. Mary knew better than to waste mana on something that wasn't a weapon. With a reluctant sigh, the Skill dissipated. Nothing changed in their tiny room, but all at once the brilliant presence of a Servant's spiritual body was revealed to the world, a flare lit within the dark recesses of Notre Dame.

"Pleased to meet you both," She said, and left it at that. The priest hadn't chased her shifting spiritual presence before, she wondered what the grim looking nun had in mind. The Father was already continuing, explaining their situation. Mary was grateful for that, unconsciously nodding as he gave her something close to rules of engagement. The Overseers were to serve as support staff, ensuring that their battle impacted as few innocent lives as possible... At least from the information angle. She had no intention of harming bystanders anyway. Buildings were secondary, but who would be foolish enough to fight by popular landmarks? Even on their way in the Notre Dame had been flooded with tourist bodies, it sent a chill down her back to imagine the amount of exposure fighting downtown would get. She patiently waited for the Overseer to finish, her eye closing with what could only be restraint as he talked about her defeat. The topic slammed backwards as the Servant spoke. "Do not worry, the Assassin class is quite capable of conducting battle reasonably. I cannot say the same for my contemporaries, but you will find us quite cooperative in that regard." A faint smile curved her mouth as she spoke, the Servant taking the opportunity to execute her own part. "I assumed you would be the one asking questions, Father Kelly. There's nothing I can think to ask." Mary nodded her way out of the conversation, leaving the questions to her Master.



Walter Moen

"It's the least I could do," Walter said, pacing around the clearing as his Servant indulged his appetite. Even if it was a little awkward he had no intention of joining in: The Master had eaten just before the summoning and now that he had an actual war on his hands he found his stomach ever more in knots as the reality set in. He went round in circles, dissolving some of the magical circles sustaining their bounded field with a swipe of his hand. He'd need to pilfer a less conspicuous field design for the future, even normal people were getting acclimated to recognizing illusory walls in this day and age. That wouldn't be too difficult. The field's stability diminished, the sole remaining circle at its core wavering and sputtering flecks of light as the tiny burden of mana still within it began to bleed back into the environment. They had a few minutes before it would gracefully peter out and fade.

As Berserker finished up his meal he hefted up his backpack. The sound of ritual bells and glass jars rang as the sturdy pack settled over his shoulders. With it the insubstantial magi's profile swelled, a bizarre hunchback of modernity and the arcane fused. He turned back as Berserker spread the ponchos around. The square footage of fabrics around him was probably enough to comfortably dress a bed, and still the Berserker made them look like mere pillowcases. He didn't seem disappointed in them yet. "We're keeping all of them just in case, so just pick one you'd like to try out." A small part of him was already curious what the tastes of the ancient warrior were like. Well, he already knew the guy liked corn salsa. Before that though, the Servant wanted to talk strategy. He couldn't object, if even a Berserker thought they needed a plan then they needed a plan.

"I don't think we can afford to be defensive," He admitted, looking down as he committed himself to serious thought. The other option meant that they would have to actively hunt Magi and their familiars in the contorted, urban terrain around them. The thought made his skin crawl. Even someone like him could hide a bounded field reasonably well in the concrete jungle. A real magi's atelier was an absolutely terrifying place to be an intruder, and they could get away with just about anything in something as isolable as a back alley or a storeroom. But being hunted themselves left them defenseless. Even if his Formalcraft were only useful to a stationary, defensive Magus it was too specific to actually constitute a defense. Unless it were tailor made for the Magecraft he would face, a superior Magus would simply shrug off the best of his capabilities. Other Servants could out-range them or pick favorable skirmishes if they stayed in one area. The only option was something so unlike him he struggled to fabricate a way they'd actually do it: They would have to aggressively pursue decisive battles from the very first action. "Right," He said, mostly to himself, fixing his eyes on Berserker. "We'll be as offensive as possible. Magi are territorial, they'll settle down and strengthen themselves. Don't hate me too much, but I'm pretty sure everybody who got into this thing has got to be stronger than me in a fight. The Servants should be more or less competitive, but we can't afford to let them hole down and get situated if we wanna get anything done."

"Go on and eat whatever you want, if we need to there's plenty of places to get more along the way. There's one last thing we've got to do before we actually fight anybody though." That was right, there was a formality he dearly wanted to ignore... But doing so was a gamble. If the other Masters did respect the Church's authority and tried to find an overseer they'd know there was a rogue in their midst when one team didn't check in. Theirs was a society that expunged rogue elements for peace of mind. Seven teams enthusiastic to kill him was more than enough, they didn't need to be teaming up too. He grimaced, sighing in exhaustion at the mere thought of dealing with the Church. Hopefully it wasn't somebody who hated him. Walter pulled a tourist's map of the city from his pocket, squatting next to the Berserker and unfolding its three panels in front of him. His bloodied right hand pointed to an island at the center of the city, a cartoonish portrayal of a big church next to it. "They always send someone from the Church to watch over these fights and make sure the contestants don't blow up the world or anything dumb. We'll probably find him here, and he'll want to know that we're ready to go."
 
Josef Maximilian von Habsurg
Josef was, more or less, stunned at Annabelle's revelation. A knightly, yet elegantly beautiful, woman stood before him, claiming she was the knight that legend wrote about.

It was strange indeed, a odd tale, but one that only endeared Josef to his servant even more. "Yes, It's safe to assume the rest of the servants have been summoned." Josef smiled at his servant's eagerness, it was exactly what he was wanting in a servant.

"A quick patrol around the city wouldn't be a bad idea, Annabelle." Josef replied, standing up from his chair. The room was absolutely trashed, so it might be good to leave for a while, to allow room service to take care of the issue.

Checking his watch, Josef smiled to himself. Time had escaped him for a while there. It wouldn't be long before sunrise. "I'll find some clothes appropriate for a woman of your caliber. I, unfortunately, only acquired clothes for a man, earlier." Josef added in, as he begin to leave the room, and enter into the larger part of the suite he had rented.

The rest of the suite, thankfully, was spotless. Despite the practical hurricane in the next room, nothing had noticeably shifted in the rest of the suite.

Glancing down at his own attire, Josef frowned. It would rather be a poor show to walk around the streets of Paris at this time, dressed as if he had just left a formal dinner party. "We'll both probably have to have our own visit to the changing room." Josef motioned to one of the other doors in the suite. "That one can be your room." All-in-all, there was four different rooms to the suite. Two master bedrooms, the room that Josef/Annabelle had demolished with the summoning, and the main room they were currently in.

Josef pulled out his phone, and started to dial. It only took a handful of phone calls, and the quick movement of a few funds, before Josef had set up the delivery for several different outfits, for himself and Annabelle.


Taking a seat at the small bar that the suite hosted, Josef poured himself a drink of some brandy, swirling it in a small tumbler glass.

Glancing over at his pristine servant, Josef bore a friendly smile on his face, "You sure are something, aren't you?" Josef spoke softly. Everything was starting to set in now for him. He had done it, he had summoned Saber, and it was likely he would now win the Grail War. Saber's always won the Grail, right?

Before Annabelle could respond to his seemingly rhetorical question, Josef spoke again "So, while we're awaiting our outfits to arrive, so we can change and go for our 'patrol', I feel like I should ask you something." Josef arched his head back and down the brandy that was in his tumbler glass, gently placing the glass back down onto the bar, "Are you ready to win the Holy Grail War?"


@Akashi
 
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After four or so corn beef tacos, three burritos filled to the brim pork cutlets and cheese, the Servant seemed to reach some sort of satisfaction. The gourmet of his time had been, he hesitate to say improved, but definitely changed, with the portions being much larger. It fitted this age of excess the Servant though. He knew that this was, overall, a time of peace the world over. People did not need to fight and kill to survive any longer. Some regions remained like the his worn torn home even into the modern age, but those places were not his concern right now. He rested his hands atop his knees, eyes closed as he took a moment to gather. A Berserker meditating following a filling meal must have been quite a sight, but his existence would not allow calm or a moment spent resting easy to last too long. There was business to attend to, and battles to take part in. "My thanks once again," he said to his Master as he got his sack onto his shoulders, "I listen."

The post meal tranquility, if it had not been ended before, ended as his blood began to pump with the idea of finding himself in combat soon. His was not a Master of superb spellcraft from the sounds of it, and indeed, he did not sense a particularly great deal of magical energy from the man, not that he wa sparticularly good at sniffing out mana in the first place. He was not built like the warriors of his time. He was a civilian, or looked like the modern equivalent of one to his eyes. He would have to carry everything on his shoulders by what was said, and the idea of such made him grin. Like old times once again, he thought. Instead of the wishes of a Mexican monarch, now the wishes of this Mage rested on his shoulders. What were his Master's wishes in this War? What was his own? His mind did not allow him to care enough to bother to ask at this stage. To fight was his only wish in this moment, and it was a wish that would be granted sooner rather than later from the sounds of it. "Hatred of the weak is for the weak themselves. Warriors serve to protect those weaker than themselves," he said as a matter of factly, his Master's weakness seen as a boon and not a negative in this light. It meant he'd have to fight harder, and fight tougher battles. "I will protect you to the best of my ability in between lopping off the heads of my rivals."

His muscles bulged as he finally moved, changing from his sitting position to a kneeling one. He began to look over the ponchos more closely as Walter continued to speak. "Priests. I see. Mediators in everything even in this age, I see," the Servant said, choosing a poncho at last that consisted of a light brown coloring, yellow trimmings of designs similar to home at the ends of the fabric, his tastes leaning obviously towards the decorative native designs Walter had chosen than the simplicity of basic flat colors. He rose to a standing position after he had made his choice, draping the poncho over his muscled physique, rolling his shoulders and stretching his neck. It felt odd to be clothed like this now, and he couldn't place why. The eternity of non-existence as a being of concept was choosing odd times to make him feel out of place.

"For now my stomach is satisfied, but I will let you know if that changes. If this is acceptable Master," he said, looking himself over briefly, "I'm ready to move."
 
Ka ching~!

Quest Complete! Overseer found! Shinobu shot a triumphant grin towards her Servant, before the two of them followed Father Kelly down to the back of the cathedral, cerulean eyes flickering from one detail to the next. Path memorized, she waited patiently as the man knocked, before opening the door to the small chapel and the cute nun. Yup, Isabella definitely reminded the thin, bandaged girl of all the cosplayers from Akihabara, dolled up and pretty but still trying to be subdued about it. She’d probably look good in a goth loli outfit as well, wouldn’t she? Ah, but of course, foreigners always had greater ‘landmass’.


“Nice to meet you both,”
Shinobu said once the old man’s spiel was finished, “And yeah, Paris is a bit difficult for a Grail War, but Assassin-class would definitely be easy mode for sneaking around! Don’t worry, we’re not gonna cause a scratch on any of those pretty buildings, Father. I got you!”

The cheery Master gave him a thumbs up with her unbandaged hand, before then unzipping her suitcase. Pulling out a box, she aimed a disarming smile in the nervous Father’s direction and extended her arm, bowing simultaneously.

“It’s not a question, but please accept this gift, Father Kelly. These are sweets from my homeland, an assortment of wagashi that I’ve made myself. I know this is an inadequate display of gratitude compared to your generous offering of sanctuary, but please, take this alongside the thanks of my soul.”

Tangled locks crisscrossed her face as she lifted her head up once more, a cheekier grin on her face.

“Really though, Father, it looks like things will be super busy, but please, don’t neglect your health in favor of keeping up with the antics of seven pairs of wish-seeking idiots. Take time for a break or two, or overwork will kill you before the War ends.”
 
ANNABELLE (COUNT ROLAND)

Slightly surprised by her Master's reaction, she was wondering why he didn't show a different emotion - like anger, or disappointment. Annabelle didn't say much in that regard, and rather kept quiet, following the young male before her. From one section of the room to another. This entire place looked out of place to her, but that may be because of the era she once, used to live in.

"Yes, it wouldn't." Saber was more or less curious about what the world had to offer. If anything, deep inside her, she was happy to have been summoned to the Holy Grail War. This way, she could get her wish granted, but with the other, six servants out there, that would probably be a challenge. However, with her unwavering will and confidence, she absolutely wouldn't give up that easily.

Walking with her Master in her armor, she couldn't help but give it a simple glance of curiosity. Perhaps it was an attire not suited for this era, or perhaps walking around in it, onlookers would look at you with a weird expression. "Well, that is understandable." A constant reminder about her coward of a brother Roland. The fact that her Master had prepared clothes for him was acceptable.

A simple expression was plastered on her face, while she took in her surroundings. Unlike the previous section of the room, this one was in good shape. Walking up to a wall, she touched it with her palm, feeling the shape or design within the wall. It was similar to her own era, where you had walls with great design. 'I guess something does not change no matter what generation it is.'

After her Master had made a few calls, they were to just wait until clothes appropriate for her would arrive, and Josef as well, apparently. "Hmm, I assume walking around in my armor would make me stand out in a crowd." A rhetorical joke if anything, before a smile was plastered on her face.

Saber could see that her Master was more than happy to have summoned someone like her. The expression, the aura surrounding him gave that away. "You can ask me anything Master, but I would like it if you referred to me as Saber, and keep my true name to yourself. For the time being." Even if she wasn't written down in history like her brother, she wanted to have her name be kept secret.

The next question uttered by Josef was an odd one, but perhaps he wanted to test her conviction for what was to come. "Yes, I am, but in case you're not sure about me, I'll have to apologize. Maybe the history about Roland makes this difficult for you. However, I can promise that I'll do my best in bringing you victory in the war to come." Saber was not really sure how to answer his question. She could've blatantly been direct and say yes, but felt that perhaps her Master wanted someone else to show up as Saber.
_____________________________
Master | Josef (@Sightles)
Location | Somewhere in Paris
Mentioned | None
Interactions | Josef (@Sightles)
 
Kelly raised a brow.

"Assassin, eh?"

He considered the revelation for a moment. From what he been told about the Servant classes, Assassin probably had the least potential to cause wide-scale damage. Still, he took the promise for caution with a grain of salt.

"I suppose you're right, I've certainly got less to worry about from you two than I do from Berserker."

He laughed, but in the back of his mind the grave possibilities of the sort of monstrosity that the Berserker class could contain filled the priest with an unshakable sense of dread. Maybe, just maybe, they would have a mild-mannered Berserker. The idea didn't strike him as particularly likely.

The bandaged girl offered a gift with a sense of gusto that far exceeded her size. Kelly chuckled, holding out a hand to accept the box, grinning as he looked inside.

"Well thank you miss, I appreciate it. I'm not too familiar with Eastern sweets, but I'm sure they'll be delicious. You like sweets, don't you Iz?"

The priest tucked the box under his arm with a smile. Meanwhile, Isabella's questioning gaze had narrowed into a smoldering glare, casting distaste upon both the Father and the newcomers indiscriminately. A sly grin crossed the priest's face.

"And I wouldn't worry too much about me. I'm no stranger to overwork, the Church saw to that much."

He rubbed the back of his head lazily, laughing.

"It'd take more than that to kill me."

He said the words with his typical lackadaisical tone, but his eyes fell on Shinobu with an uncomfortable level of seriousness for a brief moment. He broke the stare, shaking his head and pointing toward the nun behind him.

"Plus, I've got my dear assistant here, so I don't have to handle everything myself."

Isabella sighed, turning back toward the altar before speaking up.

"If that will be all, we appreciate you coming by. If all goes well, we hopefully won't be seeing much more of each other."

Kelly smirked, leading Mary and Shinobu out of the room and away from the irritable nun.

"Don't take it too personally. Izzie treats everybody like that. She's not the most sociable creature, but she's got a heart of gold under that harsh exterior. Really, she's a swell girl."

He led them back down the empty hallway as the stoic silence of the isolated chapel gave way to the excited din of tourists in the main room of the cathedral. Eventually, they were back among the crowd, standing before the building's entrance.

"Well, I wish you two the best of luck out there. It's a great risk you're taking taking part in this whole mess, but I suppose you knew that already."

For a moment, a look of sadness crossed Kelly's face.

"Be careful."
 
Josef Maximilian von Habsurg
Josef smiled, satisfied with Annabelle's responses, "I'll hold you to that promise, then." Josef replied, smirking. At that moment, however, before Josef could continue with their pleasant conversation, there was a knock on the door.

Raising a hand towards Saber, to make ease any sort of caution she may feel. It was most likely just the clothing. Sure enough, answering the door by barely cracking it open, he was greeted by one of the hotel workers, handing over the orders he had made. Three huge bags filled with varying accessories and clothing.

Bidding the worker goodbye, Josef shut the door and turned towards Saber. "Very well, as soon as we can get changed, we can go for our little excursion." Josef handed over one of the huge bags to Saber, containing the clothes he had purchased for her. Inside was fairly high-end, and expensive clothing. Enough for a few outfits. However, Josef was nice enough to make things simple. No intricate outfits to put together as if they were a puzzle. Most of it was straight-forward, on what would go with what.

Taking the other two bags, obviously filled with Josef's new clothing, he started towards his room, "See you in a few minutes, Saber." Josef said, with a quick smile, before entering his room, and shutting his door.


A handful of minutes later....

It hadn't take Josef long at all to change. Fashion was some sort of hobby for him, a hobby which is made immensely easier at one's ability to quick undress, and redress.

Entering the suite once more, Josef looked more at home on the beaches of Italy, that the streets of Paris, especially since he sported a fashionable boater on his head.

He expected to finish much quicker than Saber. A complete wardrobe change is something that would take anyone a while, except for Josef.

Sitting back at the bar, Josef poured himself another good bit of brandy, idly sipping it, with a smile on his face. It was hard to imagine that he was here where he was. About to go on a patrol with his servant. What if they found another servant? Or another Master? The most obvious answer is that they'd ending up fighting.

Taking a draw from the drink, Josef could only imagine how violent a servant battle could turn. He'd prefer if everything was dealt as a friendly competition, but even he wasn't that dumb. Everything would be a knock-out drag-out, tooth and nail, battle to the death. It'd be violent, and it wouldn't be pretty.

Josef didn't know if he was ready to handle such a thing. Of course, he was ready to face it, with the same zeal he always had. But it'd be the aftermath of such a event that'd likely be hard for him to handle.



Sun Wukong
Sun Wukong was nearing the massive landmark that was this church. Wukong couldn't help but let loose a snort as he approached. Such a monument built to some god or another. Time was better spent trying to equal the gods, than it was trying to honor them, Wukong had always found.

According to the plan devised, Wukong was to enter the church first. The reservations held about the Grail War in itself, and then the very public area of cathedral was an issue. One that Wukong would check out before he endangered his master. The first thing Wukong noticed was he could sense the bounded fields that layered the church like death layered a battlefield. They were impressive. Although, an impressive bounded field for an impressive monument only seemed normal.

Stuffing his pockets into the cheap, and alcohol stained, jeans, he moved through the throngs of people. Before long, he was within 50 yards of the holy monument. Still, for a monument, Wukong expected the crowds to be much thicker.

Wukong didn't sense any servants around the church, which eased him. Although, it also disappointed him. The Monkey King was eager to be the one to jump start this Grail War. How would he be expected to win any victories if his enemies hid? He had spent an entire night out on Paris, and never sensed anything out of place. The church would be a good place to start, though. Wukong and his master could gather whatever information they could on the other servants, or whatever the Father would be allowed to tell them.

Picking restlessly at Riyu Jingu Bang, which resided safely inside a hole of his ear, Wukong could only imagine what other kind of servants had been summoned. Saber, someone who would be a true challenge for Wukong, was the one who kept popping into his mind. Caster would be fun to face down, as well. Wukong didn't care much for the other classes, as he never saw the danger in someone who could shot projectiles 'very good', or someone that was good at riding 'very good', or someone who could sneak away. The Grail War, Wukong thought, would be fought the same way every battle he fought in life would be. Facing down his enemies, the sun shining over him, his friends and people watching, while beating his chest. The thought almost made Wukong pause.

Wukong returned his focus on the task at hand, as he kept his way towards the church. He was to make sure the area was safe, before returning to his master to report what he saw and sensed.
 
Marianne

While her Master and the priest exchanged pleasantries and sweets Mary reclined by the door. Archer crossed her arms as the conversation proceeded, mirroring the intensifying look of disgust on the nun's face. Maybe leaning her back on the inside of a shrine room wasn't the best choice, but the numb stare on the Servant's face said everything for her as she briefly locked eyes with the agitated Sister. Before anything more could happen, they seemed to be done, and the Father was ushering them away from the room. "Take care, Iz." Mary didn't look back as she left the room, lazily waving a hand over her shoulder as the procession marched back towards civilization. She couldn't put a finger on the woman's hostility. It didn't fit the image of the church, but what idiot thought the Church ever lived up to its image? Even the Father was trying to explain. Mary tuned back in as they approached the entrance. A harsh faced woman who couldn't express herself? She huffed softly, her amusement lost in the din of the crowd. "It seems you'll have your hands full with or without Servants," She said.

The crowd began to grow dense around them, and with every step the Servant began to be pummeled with dread. Her working eye shifted warily from face to face, searching for the source of the sensation weighing upon her being. A faint burn, the sharp touch of danger. It was the feeling of being shot at, only there were no noisy reports or fiery plumes in the Cathedral. Kelly lead the way to the door, but the Servant stopped briefly in her tracks. Her cover had been lifted earlier, but she had no idea to what extent the mysterious, but certainly extant, defenses of Notre Dame obfuscated their presence within. Timidly, as if testing for a landmine beneath the aged stone, she inched a foot forward. The feeling of another exploded in her mind. She had no comparison in her memory to draw upon, only the imparted instincts of her spiritual body to know that it was the feeling of a Servant. Her face unmoving, she took quicker steps towards the other two. "It seems your next guests are here," She said briskly, shooting an apologetic smile at him. "My apologies, Father. Au Revoir." It would have been nice to keep her promise to the man, but if they had to turn the neutral ground into a free fire zone to escape it wasn't going to weigh on her conscience too much.

One thing was certain, they could not stay in Notre Dame. The neutral ground was for the defeated, and trapping themselves any longer would only mean more Servants arriving. As she stared at the open doors, blinding light stabbing through them, she shot a look back to the Father. It was wise not to try his patience any more than they needed to. An Overseer was a powerful ally, and at the very least the only friend they currently had. It was far too late for Espionage, both sides had to have a clear idea that the other was present... But it was also the best tool she had. As the pressure of the Servant outside continued to increase her own diminished to nearly nothing. Archer took her Master by the hand, and began to explain as she marched towards the door. "If they let us walk we're leaving. If they engage..." She dipped her head out of the exit, eye doing a brief pan of the surroundings before the Servant strode out into the sunlight. "Egress within the crowd. Shield yourself with civilians and get into a building. I will draw the fight away from your escape." The bandaged tourists weren't the least conspicuous they could be, especially as they were among the very few actually departing the cathedral. Hers was a cheap trick, one that left only a single, obvious conclusion for the enemy to make: That they were trying to escape. Under the rules of war some Heroes may have even permitted such a withdrawal... She had no such hopes for this deathmatch. Her free hand clawed at her waist, gripping a weapon that was not yet there. To summon her armament meant revealing her position, to go unarmed was to gamble the instant it would take her wouldn't be her last. Her jaw set as Archer wandered towards the street.



Walter Moen
He was looking at a clothed Berserker, and that was progress. Walter smiled, nodding his head. "Yup, should be alright." He stooped to pick up the bag of discarded ponchos. They'd serve their use later, and if not... They had a decent collection now. 'Warriors serve to protect those weaker than themselves,' His Servant's words continued to echo in his head. It cut out their relationship very neatly. At the very least, he didn't have to worry about being a burden with such a... Was chivalrous really the word to use? With such an altruistic Berserker. It offered a hint as to just what kind of madness gripped this particular Servant. Fortunately, his fashion sense hadn't become anything too eccentric underneath Mad Enhancement. "Very well, we'll start now. You can consider this our first patrol if you like." The way the Servant had spoken before, about him hearing whatever battle Berserker would get into, told him that he would. There was no way that warrior would shy from battle, and any encounter they made would surely escalate into a brawl.

Walter scratched his chin as they left the alleyway, thinking over that detail. If his Servant awarded him no probing battles to test the waters and establish strategies, he'd just have to do such things in the heat of battle. Operating under pressure wasn't so bad, he'd saved a few lives under short notice in his career. His own had never hung in the balance though, at least not with such immediacy. There were a few times his craft had protected his life, but never really dissuaded an already motivated attacker. That was his only Magecraft's purpose, and he'd already rambled enough in his mind about the stun gun's lack of efficacy. The wandering Master spared a glance up at the world around him as him and his Berserker paraded through the streets. As expected, more than a few heads turned their way, but they were just two foreigners one a little bigger than the other. Not two foreigners to call the police on, and that was the victory he needed. Within the urban sprawl, even something as vital as the Notre Dame was lost over the concrete horizon. He had nothing but his knowledge of the street plan and, in a pinch, his map to carry them, but the route was a straight forward one. Taking out the map really was a last resort. He looked skyward, towards the birds that loomed over the city. Anything that marked him as not merely a foreigner, but a tourist, or at least someone unfamiliar with the city, would make it far too easy for other Masters to single him out.

That, or the giant following him. He shook his head for even worrying about protecting his identity when he was wielding the loudest, noisiest Class in the Grail War. Even for a Magus that turned many traditions on their heads, a Berserker's way of life dismissed even the fundamentals that a heretic Magus still clung to. "You said Mediator earlier," Walter began to talk once the silence got too uncomfortable for him. A few blocks of noisy Parisian streets made anyone want to open up, and if he were being really honest with himself he needed to say something before his nerves ate him. He'd just walked the same way for some tacos, but with a Servant at his side he might as well have been walking through Tripoli all over again. One alley from noisy, shouting chases through the city. One block from the clash of steel and a battle between Heroes. "But that might not be all right here. I won't slander our Church buddy before we even meet him, but he's pretty much one more person that we can't trust. He's here as an Overseer and to prevent the worst from happening, but that doesn't mean the worst for us. I guess they aren't really a combatant, but if anything seems off we're leaving in a hurry. Anyone who tries to stop us... We can't rightly treat them as enemies, but we can't let them get in the way either."
 
"Understood," the Servant said simply as they at last left their alleyway haven. He was glad to finally make some movement. Along with his mind rebelling at the thought of too much rational thought, staying still for too long in one place had began to grate before he had even realized it. The tinge of anger at being inactive was felt and forgotten in almost the same moment as they began to take steps forward, leaving the dingy place of his summoning and entering the city morning outright. As his Master fell silent, he merely followed along, going quiet himself as he took in his full surroundings. Even so early into the morning the density of people was staggering. He remembered Mexico City then, the throngs of people peddling their wares, the armies of Montezuma moving to and fro. That was it's own form of familiarity, the sensory overload served to put the Berserker in a strange sort of ease. Robbed of his ability to think due to the overwhelming visual and audible information coming to him, he was unable to grow enraged at the limitations his Class had presented to his mind. What struck him immediately was how many lighter skinned people there were - did no one work or live in the sun in this city? Was their day spent indoors, toiling at whatever indoor activities let them live such opulent lives? So much colorful clothing, so many people fat off daily meals most likely akin to what he had eaten minutes before. The differences were staggering to the Servant.

The gazes the civilian populace spared towards him went unnoticed. A passing dog snarled and barked, but that too went ignored. A young child tugging at the sleeve of his mother's shirt, pointing at him in astonishment, words said in a language he did not know but his status as a Heroic Spirit let him understand instinctively - "What is that big man, mother?", or something to that effect. He had recalled the same words spoken in his native tongue as he rode through Central American villages over 500 years ago, children and women in awe, men hanging their head in submission. The Warrior Hero of Tlaxcaltec strode once again.

Master and Servant were stark contrasts in more than just skin color and stature. While Walter's body language told the Servant how nervous he was, the Berserker was oddly calm, if not in peace in the packed, loud streets. As his Master began to speak, he focused his wandering vision and ears towards him with reverence, and the same begrudging respect he had offered Montezuma all those centuries before. "Such a war this must be, for even a priest to be a possible enemy," The Servant breathed, curious. To not trust the servants of the Sun in his time was unhead of, but this was not his time, or his city. "I am your weapon. If this priest impedes us, you decide whether he lives or dies. He will be the first to taste the dirt and my macuahuitl," the Servant said without hesitation.

Silence passed for a time before the Servant's brow twitched, and he felt a tightness in his belly. His pace of walking stopped for a moment, but it resumed to keep pace with his Master after the briefest moment of hesitation in movement. The Servant offered words this time, he as well growing tense with the silence between Master and Servant especially as this tingle set his senses alight. "You dread the moment I finally lose myself," he said, his tone and words nothing short of ominous. "I await it as well, and I fear this meeting may be the first test of of our partnership, if what you say is a portent of things to come. I will not apologize for taking a battle, but I will apologize if I go against your wishes in the process."

He began to scan his surroundings again. He had said from the onset he was not a Servant with good intuitions or sensory perception. In this, he was basically still a mortal being. But being a being of magic as he was, he still felt it. The slightest twinge. "I say this because I sense another. Distance, location, I cannot perceive, but there is another Servant somewhere nearby." Internal organs made up of mana began to pump. His lungs filled with oxygen, his heart began to beat quicker.

Battle. Battle, battle, battle, battle.

But he remembered the dog. The child and his mother. The numerous people still near. He forced the rising inferno down from his chest into his belly, rolling his jaw before he clenched his teeth. "I will remain myself for the time being," he whispered, letting out a heavy breath. "We continue onwards, Master."
 
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