The world is One

The world is Whole

My body and Soul

I offer to Thee

For a place in the War

Of Eternity

I

Am

The

Battlefield…

XXXXX

Many remember heroes. Many remember the villains. Many remember the rulers, the kings and queens of old. Many remember their accomplishments: their stories: their legends.

But few remember those who fought for them.

Who died for them.

The battlefields where those souls were slain became restless. The souls became one.

Hundreds upon thousands upon millions of lives joined together where they died.

And the Grail called upon them, for a new war which will be waged.

For that they needed hosts, but few managed to find them.

There were, of course, those that did.

XXXXX

Bali, Indonesia

"Yahoo!"

"Mordred, will you stop that!?"

Artoria Pendragon sighed as her "son" abused on of her prized possessions and used it as a surf board. It has been some time since they had been summoned into this world once again. Despite being told a war was about to begin, the atmosphere was rather peaceful.

"Mordred is having fun, isn't she?" a voice from behind here asked. Artoria turned around to find a girl with long blonde braided hair standing behind her.

"It seriously annoys me, Jeanne," Artoria replied. "I mean, Ruler."

Jeanne d'Arc sighed at this.

"I already told you," she said. "Just call me Jeanne."

By now, Mordred had already finish her little excursion into the ocean and had returned to the beach.

She had already changed into her distinct tube-top, ripped jeans, and red jacket.

"Can I go back first, Ruler?" she asked Jeanne. Jeanne nodded in approval. Seeing this, Mordred began to walk away from the pair towards the hotel in which they were staying.

Jeanne looked down towards Artoria, who was staring out into the open ocean.

"You two seriously need to stop this," Jeanne said, to which Artoria looked up and said, "Stop what?"

XXXXX

"Ugh!" Mordred exclaimed. "How long is it going to be until I get to fight somebody!?"

She sighed.

"I thought this was supposed to be a Holy Grail war…"

…with one strange problem: they were bound to Ruler and Ruler only. The two servants lacked a proper master.

According to Ruler, she was to summon and rally as many servants to her cause as she could, for the Grail sensed something which could mean the end of Humanity.

But nothing happened so far.

"You know what," Mordred finally said. "Screw this."

She walked off to an isolated location to practice her swordplay.

XXXXX

Something exploded.

A man with a medieval European broadsword burst out of the smoke and skid across the ground when he landed.

"Well," he said. "For a Caster servant you got some high close combat stats."

The smoke cleared to reveal another man, this one dressed in traditional Indonesian clothing and appeared to be holding a staff, with a red and white cloth wrapped around one end.

"Perhaps you should save the talking for later," the Indonesian began, "Van Mook."

The Saber servant, now identified as Van Mook, laughed.

"You seem to recognize me!" he exclaimed. "Have we met before in our past lives?"

"I saw you in the papers."

Van Mook scoffed at the reply.

"I see," he said. "But I believe I have read about you as well, General."

The Indonesian's eyelashes twitched at how Van Mook addressed him.

"Granted," Van Mook continued, "They were in the forms of front line reports, of course."

He took a bow.

"It is an honor to finally meet you in person," he concluded. "General Sudirman."

Sudirman narrowed his eyes.

"Shall we continue?" Van Mook asked, raising his sword.

Sudirman, however, seemed to not be paying attention.

"I have no time for this," said he, and then vanished.

Van Mook blinked in confusion, then adjusted his glasses.

He thought he heard police sirens in the background.

"Hmph, might as well take my leave."

He too vanished.

XXXXX

When Mordred arrived at her usual practicing spot, she found someone already there. He was a young boy, his blonde hair covering up his emerald eyes. A Brodie helmet sat on top of his head. His white button-down shirt and khakis had spots of mud here and there.

Mordred walked a little closer and the boy began to stir.

"Huh…?"

"You could catch cold if you just sit here, you know," Mordred told him. He shook his head.

"How could I?" he replied. "It's hot out here."

Mordred, as a servant, did not really care about the temperature of her surroundings. She did, however acknowledge how hot it was.

Mordred helped the boy to his feet, noting what seemed to be command seals under his sleeve.

"Thanks," he said to Mordred, before walking towards some unknown direction.

"Where're you going?" Mordred asked out of curiosity. The boy seemed to stumble every now and then, as if he had been running away from something.

Mordred ran up to the boy, who seemed to be on the verge of collapsing again.

"You won't be able to get anywhere in that condition," she told him. "Here, you could stay at my place for a bit."

It seems her curiosity has gotten the better of her.

XXXXX

Przemyśl, Poland

The magus association of Poland was a rather small one, established shortly after the end of the First World War. Unlike the association based in Japan and England, the Polish magus had more connections to the Church.

However this small detail does not matter, especially for one magus running in the streets of Przemyśl.

The magus covered his mouth, for the entire city seemed to smell of death.

He ran towards a building where the English magus association possessed a small outpost.

If he could just ask for help there…

He pushed the doors open, only to witness a most grotesque scene.

Bodies littered the floor. The desks. The chairs.

The magus ran outside again, only to be confronted by multiple men in trench coats.

The men said something in a low whisper.

"I-I don't…" the magus began.

The men in trench coats pulled guns out of their pockets and pointed them at the magus.

Then someone stopped them.

"You men cannot fight a magus," the unknown voice said. "Step aside."

"Tak jest," one of the men replied.

The voice, now revealed to be a woman, walked towards the Polish magus, an antique pistol in her hands.

Seeing an opportunity, the Polish magus drew a gun of his own and pointed it at the woman.

He suddenly collapsed.

Tiredness suddenly overcame him. He felt hungry. He felt cold.

The woman standing over him giggled devilishly.

"Oh, hungry, are you?" she asked. "Well, let me feed you something."

She held her hand over the magus's face. Suddenly, the magus felt something being shoved down his throat. He looked down and widened his eyes in horror.

Bugs.

Rats.

Shoes.

Horse manure.

Human flesh.

He squirmed, trying to get out of this hell. He tried to spit everything out, but he could do nothing.

He tried to scream, even though he knew no one would hear him.

Finally, the woman took her gun and shot the magus through the head.

She pulled a cloth out of one of her pockets and wiped the gun of the magus's blood. Then she tore the poor man's heart out.

"This should do," said she. "Relay a message to the fortress. Destroy this building."

"How shall we cover it up, ma'am?" The woman turned around.

"Make it a terrorist attack or something," said she. "The government should be fooled with that."

"I do not mean the government, ma'am," the man said.

Of course, he could mean the magus associations. Or even the church.

Regardless…

"Then proclaim another Holy Grail War has started," said she. "The Grail War to End All Grail Wars."

Author's notes: Hello friends, it is I! Karl the Arty!

Welcome to my Fate fic. This is my first attempt at writing for this universe. Constructive criticism appreciated.

Also, most of my knowledge of Fate is based on F/GO as of this moment so... yeah...

Anyway, hope you, the reader, will help support this new work.

Thanks.

plz review XD

-Karl