School sucks, Sophia Jackson internally muttered to herself for the five thousandth time that month.

The hallway was chilly, making Sophia think of the warmth of her blanket at home, a bowl of popcorn, her favorite set of pajamas, and a good Netflix series.

Goode High needed to invest in some heaters.

She tucked a brown lock of hair behind her ear and picked up her pace. Only a few more hours to go before she could go home.

The bell rung at the exact instant she stepped through the classroom door.

Mrs. Dodds looked up at her with those hawk-like eyes everyone hated.

"You're late, Ms. Jackson," she noted. "Will you stay after today, or early in tomorrow morning?"

Sophia could feel the protest forming on her lips, but stopped herself. Everyone knew better than to argue with Mrs. Dodds. Without a word, Sophia sat down in the only empty desk in the room.

"After school it is," Mrs. Dodds turned to the board and started writing.

"She's a migraine, ain't she?" The boy next to Sophia asked. Her eyes met with his, blue on blue.

Andrew Castellan was the resident popular boy at school. He kept his sandy blonde hair slicked back, and dressed himself fairly well. Puberty had certainly done him some favors.

So it only naturally followed the Sophia develop a crush on him. She slightly hated the cliche nature of it, it reminded her of every highschool romance novel ever, and romance novels she hated even more.

But Andrew grinned his mischievous grin.

Well, the heart wants what it wants, so whatever.

"At least you won't be alone," Andrew said, as he chucked an eraser at the teacher's desk, spilling her coffee down the side of her desk and soaking the carpet.

"MR. CASTELLAN, WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?"

"Sorry, Mrs. Dodds, I was aiming for the trash can and I missed."

"Detention."


Sophia and Andrew sat by each other in detention, among the small handful of other students there.

Sophia sighed, "This is just what I needed today, a detention from the human form of a vulture. Now I have to walk home in the cold."

Andrew chuckled. "I can give you a lift if you need it."

"That's nice of you, but you really don't have to-"

"I thought you didn't want to walk home in the cold. And besides, I doubt you'd want to ride with one of these meatheads over here." Andrew pointed his thumb at a table of jocks across the room.

"Point made."

As Andrew fiddled with the pencil in his hands, Sophia noticed a red mark on the back of his left hand.

"Since when were you the type for tattoos?" Sophia raised an eyebrow.

Andrew's smile vanished for a second when he realized she was talking about the motif on his hand.

"It's uh, nothing." Andrew replied. He pulled his sleeve up, but Sophia didn't say another word about it.


Delia was too old for this.

"Come now, Delia, I've already apologized," The man in front of her pleaded with her again, arms spread open wide, as if ready to accept a hug across the wooden table.

"For the final time, Harold, my answer is no." Delia crossed her wrinkled arms in a huff. "Besides, I couldn't agree even if I wanted to, ever since…"

Delia's gaze wavered to the television, where William Ainsworth, the local governor, was giving a speech.

Harold's eyes followed hers.

"The defunding? But that's precisely why you should agree with me! The church could take over the orphanage, and you could comfortably retire."

"What reason do I have to trust the church with my children? Especially after what the Inquisitors did to my biological daughter?"

Harold had the decency to withdraw his body language a little.

"But you know me, Delia," He replied, "Don't tell me you've forgotten the years we spent at the academy together."

"I hardly use magic anymore. I can barely call myself a mage now, but what I do know is that the only one I trust to take care of the children is myself. Speaking of which, hush now."

"Mamma?" Sophia opened the door, "I'm home."

Sophia stopped short at the sight of Harold.

"Ah, Sophia, welcome home." Delia smiled, "Could you make my friend here some…" Delia looked quizzically at Harold, putting strain on the word friend.

"Tea would be fine."

Sophia raised an eyebrow, but shrugged and silently went to the kitchen.

"Isn't she the one whose-" Harold leaned in and whispered.

"I said hush." Delia snapped back quietly, "And to answer you, yes, she's that one, but I refuse to involve her in any magic nonsense."

"But she has so much potential!"

"Absolutely not."

Harold sighed in exasperation, but smiled when Sophia handed him his drink.


Sophia sighed as she plopped down in front of the TV. A few silent seconds ticked by.

"So this is it?" Sophia asked quietly.

"I'm afraid so, dear."

The two fell into silence, only interrupted by the laughter of children upstairs as they ran up and down the halls.

"How are you going to break it to them?" Sophia asked.

"I'm not sure yet. I think it'll hurt for them when they have to find a new home so abruptly, but they'll recover. As for you," Delia looked at her, "I think it best that you take what you need from your parents' manor and find a new home in another town."

Sophia had never met her parents. They'd died when she was less than a year old, car crash, Delia always told her. Their home was a mansion a few blocks away. They hadn't left her anything, they thought they were too young to have wills to leave behind just yet.

"I still don't understand why you don't want me here in Rochester?"

"You should just go somewhere else. Albany, maybe. Find another orphanage, or better yet, an actual home."

Sophia fell into another silence for a moment.

"Okay, I'll go to the manor this weekend and just loot the place then."

Delia smiled. Her children would be okay.


"You're late." Andrew's father, Lloyd calmly spoke when Andrew entered the cellar.

"Apologies father," Andrew replied, "Is the circle ready?"

"It's been drawn." Lloyd gestured to the circle behind him, drawn in white chalk. "All that is needed now is the incantation. I don't think I need to remind you of what you need to do when this is done."

Andrew shook his head and turned to face the circle. To face his family's dream.


That night, Delia dusted the books off her shelf.

"I suppose, for old time's sake, eh?"

She placed the raven's feather onto her table, and took a deep breath. She could feel the pressure in her old bones.

This one's for the kids.

"Fill, Fill, Fill, Fill, Fill. Repeat five times, but when each is filled, destroy it. An essence of silver and steel, a foundation of stone, and the archduke of contracts."


"Raise a wall against the wind, and close the four cardinal gates." Andrew chanted.


"Follow the forked road to the kingdom. My will creates your body, and your sword carries my destiny." Delia continued.


"If you obey my will and reason, then answer the grail's call. You, who are clad in a trinity of words, come forth from the ring of balance, guardian of the scales!"

Light flooded the cellar. When the dust settled, Andrew looked for his Servant.

In the middle of the circle stood a man in a black button up jacket, or what looked like a military jacket of some sort, but it seemed old. He kept his white hair short cut, wore baggy black pants, combat boots, and had a crossbow slung over his shoulder.

"Which one of you is my Master?"

Andrew turned to his father.

"May I handle this alone, father?"

Lloyd nodded and left the chamber.

"You're the Archer-class servant, aren't you?"

"Indeed I am," The man nodded in affirmation, "And you my Master?"

Andrew held up his hand, showing his Command Seals, "Come, Archer, we have work to do."


The chilly night air pricked at Sophia's skin as she power-walked back to the orphanage from her parent's manor.

The ground beneath her rumbled, and she nearly fell. Stumbling and catching herself, she raised her eyes to see smoke and the glow of fire billowing from the direction of the orphanage.

From home.

She dashed forward, screaming names of the children.

Sophia found herself in the courtyard, unable to enter the burning building. She screamed Delia's name. No answer came.

Another explosion ravaged the yard. Sophia eyes caught on a figure standing at the very top of the orphanage's ruins. A woman with black hair, dressed in purple robes billowing in the wind. Her pitch black hair framed a maliciously beautiful face, and she clutched a silver spear in her hand.

"Targeting children, aye, Rider?" She asked, frowning at her opponent.

The second figure she spoke to revealed himself as he emerged from a silhouette among the flames. He was tall, with red skin, unbelievably muscular. He wore golden boots and gauntlets, decals etched into them that seemed to look Asian. He wore baggy pants, a golden crest above his crimson face, which sported a mustache and sharp fangs that protruded from his mouth.

"Well, I need to obtain mana somehow. My Master is somewhat of a weak mage, but the children here are... Satisfactory for now," The man known as Rider growled, his voice deep and reverberating, "Besides, you would know, Lancer."

The woman clicked her tongue in disdain. She twirled her spear expertly in her hand as she replied, "I took souls from the battlefield, not children from their homes."

Lancer leveled the blade of her spear at Rider, "Even without my Master's order to stop you, I find your actions disgusting."

Rider simply grinned maniacally in response, "Oh, please, it's not the first time I've upset a god."

Sophia attempted to crouch behind the pile of debris she was using as a hiding place as Rider and Lancer lunged at each other.

Sophia took the opportunity to run. She full-on sprinted down the street.

"A WITNESS!" She heard Rider screech. He broke his lock with Lancer and began to give chase, until Lancer intercepted him with a spear thrust, blocking his sword again.

Lancer turned and shouted over her shoulder to Sophia, "KEEP RUNNING LASS!"

Sophia didn't need to be told twice.


Sophia crouched in the basement of the abandoned manor, struggling to catch her breath.

"Did you honestly think you could hide from me?" She heard Rider's voice.

The box she was hiding behind was kicked aside, so Sophia dove behind another set of boxes.

Rider sighed, exasperated.

"Really?"

Sophia couldn't stop herself from shaking.

"I'm getting rather tired of this little game of cat and mouse, little girl," Rider raised his sword, "At least try to make this fun for me."

Sophia grit her teeth, "What the hell do you want with me?"

"Sorry, kid, no witnesses. It's a policy of the Holy Grail War. Your kind made the rule, so don't blame me for that. If it's any consolation though," Rider cracked his knuckles, "I'll make this quick-"

Then, as if her day hadn't already made her second-guess whether or not she was high, said wall behind her began to glow, just as Rider lunged at her.

"Wait, wha-"

And off came his head. The wall behind him was painted red, and Rider collapsed, his body disintegrating in a shower of glowing blue dust a moment later, along with his head and blood.

His killer stood with his back to Sophia. He turned to face her.

He wore a navy blue shirt under metal armor, and a black cloak cascaded off his shoulders. He sheathed the greatsword he'd just used to decapitate her assailant, before offering her a hand.

"Are you alright, Master?"

Sophia blanked for a second, but took his hand hesitantly. He was handsome, that much was certain. He looked to be mid twenties, with a tan complexion, raven-black hair, and blueish green eyes.

"Who are you exactly?" She inquired.

He raised a brow, but ended up laughing.

"Ah, I see now. Seems my Master is a novice. Call me Saber, for now." Saber sheathed his sword. "Now it's my turn to ask you a question, miss…"

"Sophia."

"Sophia. Do you believe in magic?"