FateCounterfeit

by tallgeese

One day in the year of 2030, all mana vanished from the face of the earth. This story, an alternate retelling of the events leading up to this, is a tragedy of ambition, revenge, and fourteen souls willing to risk their lives for a single chance to make the impossible a reality.

1. The Players Assemble, Part 1

Chapter 1:

The players assemble (part 1)

Tin Man

Glasgow, Scotland

September 21st, 2030

6:45 PM

Carlo rose from his knees and wiped his brow, looking down at his handiwork with a sense of smug satisfaction. A broad circle, colored the silvery red of the blend of blood and mercury which had painted it, stretched across just more than three meters of the concrete floor of the warehouse. He was never an artistic man, but he had to confess that he'd outdone himself this time! There were lines drawn in intersecting arrays, which formed a star pattern within the circular border. Along these lines he'd inscribed a series of runes, which he used to spell out the summoning incantation his family had kept hidden away for generations.

He had been busy for the past three hours, alone in the center of the long-deserted warehouse he had purchased for this purpose. The interior of the building itself was naught but a wide, empty expanse of dust and concrete, completely concealed from the outer world save for the skylights arranged in the ceiling above him, which deposited the ever-decreasing light of the setting sun outside to illuminate him as he labored. This was good. Space and privacy were the two ingredients he required most of all. The ritual this venue would play host to this evening was one that needed to remain a secret.

The tip of his toe found its way to the base of the painted canvas beneath him, causing the entire array to glow faintly. The ingredients of the paint he'd used were designed to be a catalyst for magical energy, and true to this design he could feel his magic circuits- the web of veinlike pathways his body had developed to allow the flow of mana from his core- flare open and pulse with anticipation in response to the contact. This amused Carlo, but he forced the flow of energy to halt for now. This summoning circle itself was only half of what he needed to perform his miracle.

The sound of chains pulling and metal scraping on metal suddenly echoed throughout the area, forcing him to abandon his ruminations and self-congratulations, and instead to cast a bright green eye towards the large retractable door that served as the entrance to the warehouse. The door itself was large and heavy, only opened from a locked panel on either side of the front wall, which would cause it to retract up into the ceiling. He had a visitor, and a small smile crossed his lips as he realized who it was. The orange light of the setting sun flooded into the warehouse from its new aperture, impeded by nothing, save the outline of a young woman.

She was short, almost exceptionally so, with a thin frame concealed inside a modest gray blouse and a skirt of similar color, which extended down to her calves. Her limbs were stubby, and one of her arms rested on a sling, which was used to connect a large object to her back. Her black hair was cut into a short bob that framed the pointed features of her face, and she peered into the darkness of the warehouse with dark brown eyes protected by the thick lenses of her glasses.

"Do you have any idea hard it was to find this place, Carlo?" She announced with some frustration, squinting for a moment to confirm that he was there before she finally started to head inside to meet with him. He chuckled warmly at this, shrugging melodramatically.

"But you found it! See? I was right to have faith in you, Jessica! You even brought my catalyst with you. Aww, it's almost as big as you are! It's kinda cute to see you lugging it around." He crossed his arms and nodded, as if in agreement with himself. Jessica gave his words all the consideration she felt they deserved, which is to say, none at all, and simply walked over to him. The item he spoke of was what she had slung over her shoulder: a kite shield whose outline he could barely see above the strap on her shoulder that supported it. If she'd found it then both of the components of his ritual were here at last.

Jessica abruptly came to a stop a few steps shy of him, however, her lips twisting into a grimace as she brought a hand over her nose protectively.

"Did something die in here? It reeks." Her body shook in repulsion as she spoke, but it took Carlo a moment to understand what she was talking about. When it clicked in his mind, he snapped his fingers, and jerked his head toward the circle he'd assembled.

"Oh, right. My nose had gone blind to it, so I forgot. I thought the mercury would help the blood to keep fresh for longer, and it spread out fine when I made the circle, but it definitely has an odor to it." Jessica moved closer to the circle as he said this, her hand still masking her lower face as she crouched to inspect his handiwork.

"Wait, is this human blood?" She looked back at the young mage, her expression perplexed. She had been his assistant since he came of age, many years ago. At thirty-three years old, she was seven years his senior, although any who saw them would assume the gap to be in the opposite direction. Carlo was a tall, lanky man, well over six feet tall. Not only was his height imposing, but he had the importance of image impressed upon him at a young age. (in no small amount by Jessica herself.) As the mage who inherited his family's crest, it was important that any stranger could tell his importance at a glance. As such, he was normally clad in a dark blue silk blazer with matching slacks and black, wing-tip shoes. His dishwater blonde hair was kept somewhat long, running most of the way down his neck, but kept shining with the gel which slicked back his bangs.

"Well, yeah! Oh, but it's not like I killed anyone, or anything. Other countries are quite gung-ho about executions. Earlier this year I just arranged to buy the blood from a pair of inmates with high magical potential. You know, take advantage of a bad situation to-" He stopped himself abruptly, his eyes going wide. He gritted his teeth and cast his gaze downward. "Ah, I understand your reaction now. I thought a normal person would behave as I had, since I didn't kill anyone myself. Your expression tells me that my pragmatism in this situation was still a bit too callous. A normal person would find what I've done horrifying." His voice changed as he said this, taking on a somber tone, as though he were a child who had just lost at a game.

"Oh, stop pouting." replied Jessica, sensing the change in his mood. "Learning that kind of thing is what you want to win the grail for in the first place, right? I'll be supporting you during the war, so I can keep you straight until then." She reached around her shoulder, letting the shield fall free against the strap she used to hold it aloft. It was a large, beautiful item: three feet tall and half as wide, and made from lacquered wood. The front of it was emblazoned with a red lion imposed on a field half white and half green. The beast stood up on his hind legs, brandishing his front paws against the border of the frame.

"You're right, of course. Place the catalyst at the head of the circle there," He gestured toward the position he meant, and she moved to comply. "Once it's set I'll go ahead and start the incantation."

As Jessica set the shield into place and then shuffled wordlessly to the side, Carlo stood at the base of the circle he'd created, his right hand raised. He took a deep breath, then exhaled and did so again, closing his eyes and trying to calm the racing of his heart. If this ritual succeeded, then his path would be set. He would either emerge a victor and have his wish granted, or he would die. This knowledge didn't bother him, as indeed, few things did, but he was nevertheless feeling a sense of anticipation. No need for hesitation anymore. He opened his eyes, and the instant he did he banished all stray thoughts from his mind. He allowed one foot to touch the edge of the circle, and began to cycle all the mana in his body through his magic circuits, causing the glowing of the circle to grow ever more intense.

"I am Carlo Toscano Eniede. My will shall create your body, and your sword shall shape my destiny." There was a tremendous flow of magical energy in the air, so intense that it felt like a brewing storm trapped inside the confines of the warehouse. Jessica could feel wind produced by the magical flow ripple and whip around her body, and watched, transfixed, as the light of Carlo's circle soon outshone even the evening sun itself.

"If you heed the Grail's call, and obey my will and reason, then answer my summoning. I hereby swear that I shall be all that is good in this world. I shall defeat all evil in this world. Seventh heaven clad, and the great words of power spoken, come forth from the circle of binding, guardian of scales!" The back of Carlo's right hand began to burn tremendously as he finished the incantation, a pain so great that only the adrenaline surging through his body prevented him from crying out in response to it. A pattern was beginning to take shape there, burned into his flesh, but before he could make sense of it there was a tremendous sound, like a clap of thunder, and a forceful shockwave erupted from a growing vortex in the center of the circle.

Carlo was knocked backward, landing in a seated position as the forceful wind whipped all the dust in the area up into the air, creating an obscuring fog. He could hear Jessica's scream from somewhere in the building, no doubt a reaction to being blown backward as well, but he couldn't see her between the clouds of dust and the growing light from the center of the vortex. He attempted to call for her, but his throat became agitated from all the dust he'd inhaled, and instead of making any intelligible sound he began to hack and cough. The air had grown calm again, and as the dust settled his eyes were drawn back toward his circle.

The light he had witnessed hadn't faded. It was humanoid in shape, standing amid the dust and debris like an angel descended from heaven. As he watched, the details of the figured began to grow clear, and a feeling of triumph washed over him. He looked up at the one he had summoned, and then down at his injured right hand. An elaborate symbol had been branded into it: a series of curved, sharp lines which created an emblem that slightly resembled an eye. It was the sign he'd been accepted… that his war had begun. His coughing gradually changed its form, becoming a passionate laugh that erupted from his core, echoing throughout the empty building. He had finished all his preparations now… it was time to head west.

Dorothy

Central City, Missouri

September 29th, 2030

11:45 AM

"You lose again, Archer! I thought outlaws played games like this all the time." Cassidy reached toward the center of the table the pair were playing cards on, scooping all the chips that had been gathered there into a pile at her side. Her companion did the same to the cards after she withdrew, straightening them out in his hands before beginning to shuffle them. They were relaxing in her home, playing a friendly game. She hadn't even bothered to change out of her pajamas today- a pair of blue sweat pants and a t-shirt.

"This variation of poker didn't exist in my day, Master. As I said when you proposed we play it, and then repeated when you teased me for losing the first time." He repeated the process of sorting and shuffling the cards a second and third time, before returning them to their box, bringing the stack of cardboard up to his eyes to make sure it was perfectly straight.

"Huh, really?" Cassidy pursed her lips, looking at the older man wide-eyed, as if to imply this was the first time she'd heard his words. "I thought you said that when you were summoned, the grail gave you all the information you would need about the modern world." She had wanted to play further, but presumed his return of the cards to their box to be a silent declaration of boredom, and allowed the idea to fade away. Instead, she reached a hand behind her head and pulled her long red ponytail over her shoulder, stroking the hair thoughtfully, as was her habit when she found herself lost in thought. Her hair was so long that the tip of the tail reached almost to the base of her spine, and was immaculately brushed and cleaned to such an extent that it almost shined.

"It's true that I'm mighty informed about how things work now. You won't see me stopping to gape at cars in the street, and I ain't gonna marvel about all the little people in the TV. Still, it's not like the grail felt the need to tell me everything, and would you fancy that? It turns out this 'texas hold 'em' poker apparently wasn't important enough to come up when I was summoned." Her servant responded sardonically, watching his master with his piercing, steel-blue eyes. He had a shock of black hair which was combed forward so that his bangs fell around his eyes, but he had meticulously sculpted them so that every strand fell around his gaze without impeding his sight. It was a style that seemed wild and unmanageable, but was actually the result of careful and precise planning.

"Well, it's lame, regardless." said Cassidy with a shrug, losing interest in her hair and leaning back in her chair, returning his steely blue gaze with her own warm, brown one. "Gambling is the same thing as life. There's no point in one without the other. People don't really understand the value of what they have until they risk losing it in their rush to get more." She looked at the pile of chips she had accumulated during their game with a wistful smile.

"A simple, but surprisingly eloquent sentiment, coming from you," Conceded her servant. "is that what you're doing here, then? Did you enter the holy grail war just for the sake of gambling?"

"You're goddamn right, I did! I don't think a gamble exists that's bigger than the holy grail war. The winner gains everything, the losers lose everything. It's the epitome of high risk-high return." She puffed her chest out proudly, thumping her fist above the modest swell of her breasts. "I barely have a wish for the thing itself. The act of fighting for it is basically everything I've ever wanted in life."

"You realize this means you're going to be responsible for the deaths of a dozen people, no? I'm not a stranger to the act of murder, innocent or otherwise, but it seems like that's something normal people wouldn't cotton to."

"Well, it's not like I enjoy the thought of killing people, but it doesn't really bother me, either. They're making the same gamble I am, the thrill would be gone if the stakes weren't high. Besides, it's not like any of them would hesitate to kill me." In truth, she was no stranger to risking her life. She brought a fingertip to her temple, tracing a small circle against the skin there, remembering how cold the gun barrel had felt; remembering how her heart had raced as she watched that coin dance in the air.

"Fine, fine. I'll do my part to handle the brunt of the dirty work, regardless. Women and children don't belong on the battlefield."

"Aww! That's as sweet as it is patronizing. Don't expect too much support from me when it comes to other servants, though. Apparently I have mage ancestors, since I was able to channel enough mana to summon you, but I don't know any magic. I guess I could go buy a gun or something, but you're probably a better shot than I am, anyway."

"That would end poorly. Guns wouldn't do anything against a servant. I'd actually prefer you stay hidden rather than help me out, anyway."

"Oh? What's that for, then?" She asked, pointing toward his hip. He was wearing a long, tan duster over a black button-up dress shirt and cotton pants that were held in place by a leather belt with one holster on either side, each housing the bright silver form of a Colt revolver. He followed her point, and upon seeing what she referred to he let out a soft sigh of frustration, but calmed himself. She had jumped into this situation without truly understanding it, after all, and his survival would depend on her learning fast.

"When a servant is summoned by the grail, they fill one of seven roles depending on the weapon they used in their legend. I'm a gunslinger, so I was assigned to the archer class, which stands for all ranged weapon users. As a servant, these weapons may look like my ol' six-shooters, but they're actually a representation of magical power called a 'noble phantasm.' Noble phantasms of like power to a servant, or magic of the highest order, are the only ways a servant can be killed." This was an oversimplification of things, but he hoped it would convey the futility of her attempts to help him all the same. She nodded thoughtfully to this, her hands returning to her ponytail, so he continued.

"Listen, master, if the holy grail war is a game of poker, then you masters are the players sitting at the table, and we servants are cards you're dealt. We're connected- if one of us wins, the other wins. Your mana keeps me anchored to this world. If you die, I die not long after. We have to fill the roles given to us, just like this were a hand of poker. My job is to be a hand stronger than every other card on the table, and your job will be to look for weaknesses in the other players and exploit those weaknesses. If you're not content to stay hidden and let me fight your battles, then focus on findin' a way to take out the enemy masters, if a servant is too powerful, killing the master who supplies 'em with mana would be the best way to get around them. Whatever you do, though, never pick a fight with a servant."

"So, I just stand around and let you fight the other servants, unless the other servants start kicking your ass around, in which case I try to take out their masters? Fine, I can dig that. I prefer to have little control over the outcome, anyway. That's what makes gambling fun!" Her heart started to race. She had a basic idea of what a holy grail war entailed: that seven mages would appeal to the grail's power to summon seven servants, and that they would fight until only one master-servant pair remained alive, but she hadn't really given much thought to the tactics beyond that.

"Besides, the archer class excels at independent action. By default I require less support from my master than any other servant in the war. When the other masters arrive in this city, we'll go our separate ways for a while. You try to find a place to stay safe, and I'll gather information on the enemy servants. If worst comes to worst, and you need my help, just use this."He extended one of his long, bony hands and placed it on top of her right hand, gently touching the brand of tribal lines that had been burned into the back of it.

"The thing that got burned into me when I summoned you?" She asked.

"That 'thing' is a tattoo that represents your command seals. Not only does it identify you as a master in the holy grail war, it represents three orders you can give your servant that the grail will absolutely force them to obey. If you decide you want me to do something and I refuse, you can use on of these orders to force me, but that'd be wasteful. Command seals are best used to help your servant do something that would otherwise be impossible. For instance, if we're separated and you find yourself in danger, announce that you wish to use a command seal to order me to appear before you. I can't teleport, but the holy grail's power can do the teleportin' for me. One of your command seals will be consumed, and I'll be magically pulled away from wherever I am and taken directly to your side."

"I feel like I should be writing all this down, but ah well." Cassidy laughed, at the very least it seemed simple enough. She reached beneath the table, where she kept a two-liter bottle of soda, grabbed the bottle and pulled it up, looking at the design on the back of her hand as she did. It had hurt so badly when it burned itself into her skin that she had nearly lost her concentration during the summoning, but at least it was useful. She poured some soda into a glass, and took a long drag from it, feeling refreshed, though as she went to set the glass back down, Archer glared at her, pointing to a stack of coasters she had on the table next to the box of cards.

"You 'should' have known all of this going in, but it's fine. Don't forget you only have three of those command seals. If you use all three, then the pact that binds us as master and servant will be dissolved, and the holy grail will no longer recognize you as a master in the running to claim it. Moderation, oh wayward gambler."

"I got it, I got it." She yawned, pulling a coaster off the pile and setting it onto the table so that she could rest her cup without getting death glares from her own servant. His sarcastic disposition, and those cold, piercing eyes of his made him seem aloof and uncaring, but it was clear by the way he'd treated her since she summoned him that there was a warm, almost paternal kindness somewhere in his heart. She had assumed he would be much more crass and evil. He was a famous outlaw when he was alive, after all. Not that she minded having a reliable servant if she was going to be risking her life.

As the morning ended, and the afternoon began, Cassidy decided she wanted to just stay in today. If Archer's theory was correct, she had only a matter of days before the other masters headed west, toward their home town. When that happened, her peaceful days would be gone for a little while, but the thrill that would replace them would more than make up for it. She finished off the last of the soda in her cup, and smiled, filled with a sudden confidence. With her unbreakable luck, and with Archer representing her, she could win this thing. She went to replace her empty cup on the coaster, but was surprised to find that Archer now glared at her again. She got ready to protest, but he jerked his finger toward the sink. She frowned at this, rolling her eyes as if to say "okay, mom," and got up to place her cup into the sink. Perhaps he was a bit too paternal.

Glenda the Good Witch

Central City International Airport

September 29th, 2030

4:10 PM

The population density of the Central City airport was insane, even by the standards of an airport at rush hour. It felt as though every last inch of the halls connecting the luminescent white terminals was filled with people, packed shoulder to shoulder, and pushing in every direction as they scrambled madly to get to their gates. Frustration and stress seemed to radiate from everyone, and the only comprehensible sound was the din of a thousand simultaneous conversations.

Margaret was unaccustomed to crowds. Indeed, prior to her current journey, she had lived as a shut-in: Sequestered in her mansion in the outskirts of Bristol, England, and more than content to allow the rest of humanity to while away its minutes without her. The contrast between that isolation and her current situation was palpable, and she could feel an anxiety attack beginning to swell in her chest as she tried to move forward. She did promise her servant that she would steel herself for the battle ahead, so it wouldn't do to let herself be defeated before the war even began, even if her foe was something as formidable as an airport crowd.

So it was she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trusting her servant- the man who was now walking ahead of her- to guide her toward her vehicle. The slender, wrinkled fingers of her tiny hand was clutched tightly around the ash-gray fabric of the blazer she had picked out for him, (having deciding it would be for the best to have him look like any of the other businessmen a setting like this saw an endless supply of,) and she walked closely behind him, letting him breach the ocean of people before them as though she were a car behind a locomotive.

She was an old woman now. She didn't know when that had happened, but with well over sixty years behind her now, it was a truth she could no longer deny. Her hair was so silver that it shone, though she still grew it long like she had in her youth, and kept it bound in a bun behind her head. Her warm brown eyes were now sunk deep in her skull, and peered out from a face that had developed long, deep wrinkles over the course of a very hard life.

By contrast, her servant was a tall and handsome man who looked no older than his early forties. His broad shoulders filled out the blazer she'd prepared for him, and his height gave him an imposing presence, even from behind, as he stood close to seven feet, which gave him more than a half body length over his comparatively tiny master. He weaved his way through the crowd with an effortless combination of strength and elegance, ever-careful not to leave Margaret behind as they gradually advanced toward the entrance, occasionally taking a look over his shoulder to make sure she was still okay. Dark eyes, short but wild brown hair, and a groomed beard on his chin. He didn't quite look like the hero she remembered reading about as a child, but something about his bearing did confirm for her that he really was a legendary hero, someone whose name had been etched into human history forever.

The sojourn took ten minutes, but the younger man fulfilled his role with aplomb. Soon they had reached the baggage claim area, where he found the suitcase she'd prepared, lugged it over his shoulder effortlessly, then guided her toward the row of glass double doors separating the airport from the world outside. Margaret let herself relax now, taking a deep breath of the chilled, early-autumn air, and allowing her eyes to open all the way. Among the series of cabs and rental cars was a conspicuous black limousine, with the chauffeur- a chubby, unkempt man in an ill-fitting suit standing beside the passenger door- holding a piece of cardboard with the name MARGARET CRESTWOOD scrawled over it.

"Seems we've found the man to draw our chariot, Master." Her servant looked back at her again, chuckling to himself.

"Let's not judge by appearances, Lancer," She chided gently, raising a hand to let the chauffeur know his charge had arrived. He panicked for a moment at this, shuffling toward the other end of the vehicle to open the door for them. Lancer entered first, clasping a hand on the other man's shoulder in a manner he meant to be encouraging, but which may have accidentally done more to be intimidating. He ducked his large body down and slid into the vehicle, looking around at the interior for a moment, as though assessing all was safe, before beckoning for Margaret to follow. She did as she was bade, taking the seat beside her servant as the door was shut behind her. Their driver now awkwardly made his way back to his own position, and before long the cab began to vibrate as the car was drawn away from the parking area.

"Are you feeling well, Master? I can tell the trip was draining for you." Lancer leaned back against the leather upholstery, seeming to enjoy the feel of it. This made sense to Margaret. He may have been informed of how the modern world worked, but this was still his first personal experience with it.

"Oh, don't worry for me. I may look frail, but I'm durable enough to have lived this long." Margaret reassured him, looking out the window at the streets that flew past them. It wasn't that she disliked people, necessarily, she actually didn't mind watching them go about their lives from a distance, separated by glass and steel like this, where she couldn't hurt them.

"True enough. I'll say no more about it then. In that case," He reached for the button embedded into the armrest of his chair, raising the soundproof divider that separated the driver's side of the cab from the passenger's. "Have you decided on your strategy? We won't have long to get settled before the fighting begins."

"I decided to do things as you asked. I purchased a house in a suburban area a few kilometers outside the city. It's on top of a leyline, so it'll make an ideal atelier. Once we arrive, I'll erect the most powerful magical barrier I'm capable of, and that will be where I remain until the end of the war." Lancer's first concern upon being summoned was the frailty of his master, and while she was somewhat cross about being underestimated, it was true nevertheless that she was well past her prime. In terms of magic arts she could rival anyone, but her stamina wore out more and more quickly as the years went on.

"Good to hear! I'll be at a bit of a disadvantage without support from my master, but I'm actually not too bad in a fight. I like to think I'll have a few things to teach the other servants about battle." His voice was soft and dismissive, as if to imply humility, but Margaret couldn't help but feel there was a note of genuine confidence in his words.

"You'll be at no such disadvantage, Lancer. Take a look at this." She reached into her pocket, pulling out a small slip of paper. "I came up with this design on the plane ride. I needed it to be something simple enough to be drawn repeatedly, but distinct enough to not exist in abundance around us. Would you be capable of drawing this, if I asked you?"

She handed the paper to the servant, who took it, his brow raising and the corner of his lip turning downward. He unfolded the scrap to find that all that was there was a single black dot inside a circle, with three lines extending from the top of the circle, and two lines below it, creating the illusion of eyelashes around an eye.

"I mean, I'm no artist, but I think I can manage something like this. Why?"

"My family's signature thaumaturgy is a technique called the 'Roots of Yggdrasil'. Hmm… how to put it simply… Think of my atelier as a great tree, lancer. My family's art allows me to create roots for this tree, pathways I can send my mana through even across great distances, so long as I designate a symbol to represent that root, and as long as I recreate that symbol in all the places I want those roots to spread."

"I lament, master, I wasn't a mage in life. I'm not sure I follow what you're saying." He closed one eye, scratching his head as he spoke.

"That's why I chose this symbol, Lancer. It makes it a bit simpler to understand. See how it looks like an eye? Well think of it like this: these are my eyes. If you draw one on a wall, I'll be able to see as though it really were my eye attached to that wall. The more you draw, the more I can see. However, the benefit is more than just letting me see what happens around you. I can send mana through it as well. If you find yourself in a situation where support magic could help you, I'll be able to cast that magic even in spite of the distance between us."

"Ah! So you can provide long distance support without risking your life on the front lines. Alright, master, I'll stop every few minutes and carve one of these little eyes out, then." He cast his gaze out the window for a moment, smiling. He hadn't expected that his master would have an ability which would allow him to reap all the benefits of keeping her hidden away and having her fighting alongside him combined. This would make the battles ahead much easier on his conscience. He looked back at his master, planning to give a supportive line about how they could win anything, but was surprised to find she was already looking straight at him, her eyes glistening.

"My family has made an art of living our lives while minimizing contact with others. Our presence is like a curse that drains the luck away from all around us, after all. I imagine that, because you answered my summoning, I'll visit misfortune upon you someday, too, Lancer. I'm truly sorry about that." She always spoke with a west-British accent, and tended to enunciate her words carefully so as to betray as little genuine emotion as possible, but he could hear her voice cracking as she said this. He shook his head, reaching his hand out to rest over hers.

"This may shock you, master, but I'm not a stranger to misfortune. I'm here because I want to be. I guess you could say that I have an established habit of not being able to ignore the tears of isolated women. You remind me of a little sister I knew once."

"Thank you, Lancer. Regardless of where this journey takes us, I'll strive to take it alongside you."

"Right back at you." They met each other's gaze, and this time she did her best to try to imitate his reassuring smile. A moment of peace was enjoyed between them, the uncertainty of war still a little ways off to the west, in the direction their vehicle took them toward slowly.

Flying Monkey and Wicked Witch

Apartment Building in Low Income District, Central City

September 29, 2030

4:30 PM

The event responsible for this increased western momentum was something many, perhaps rightly, dismissed as an innocuous but annoying prank. All at once, for about a week in the month of January, 2030, the manifold means by which magi communicate with one another were spammed ceaselessly by a uniform message. It came in the form of parchment attached to the legs of familiars, of coded runes suddenly recreated by devices of divination, in the panicked shouts of men possessed by powerful magics, and in more ordinary capacities as well, delivered via letter to the mailboxes of hundreds of members of mage society. For the time, it had become a subject of nigh-universal disdain among those who endured it: the magi equivalent to a Nigerian Prince e-mail.

As inescapable as the deliveries may have been, though, the message itself was quite simple. Less than a paragraph of text that stated its purpose clearly:

To those magi who dare to dream, we of Euphoria have obtained the Holy Grail. Come to the American heartland, for in autumn of 2030, Central City will become a battleground.

The message itself wasn't as noteworthy as the means by which it was delivered. Across countless decades, equally countless groups had claimed to possess the holy grail. They would draw the gullible to them, only to discover that their counterfeit grails lacked the mana to even properly generate Servants, and the wars they sought to create would fizzle out before they even began. The majority of the mage world dismissed this message as more of the same, and once its onslaught began to die down in February, all but a few had forgotten about it entirely.

Still, more than a few in positions of power were prone to caution, and from that caution was born this meeting. A young man and a young woman, both foreigners in a strange land, had gathered inside a run-down apartment. The young man had been living their for a number of days beforehand, gathering intelligence on what was to come, and when his companion finally came to meet with him, he moved forward to unlock the door and grant her access.

The woman was short, with dark black hair which she kept meticulously cut to precisely her shoulders, framing a thin face and equally dark black eyes which stared out at the world from olive-shaped sockets. She stepped into the living room the instant the door was opened, resting one of her tiny hands wall as she got her bearings with the home. It had clearly been mistreated by whoever had owned it prior to its purchase by the Mage's Association. The carpet, which she assumed must have originally been white or gray at some point in its existence, had long since taken on a blackish stain to most of its length, and the tan-colored wallpaper that framed the living room was covered in grime, giving the walls a distinctly gritty texture she became aware of as soon as her fingertips touched them. She narrowed her eyes at this, her upper lip curling as she crinkled her nose.

"I apologize for the state of my accommodations." Her new companion said evenly. His voice was smooth, although deceptively deep for how young he looked. He seemed to be a man in his early twenties; his sandy brown hair was short but scraggly, with bangs poking out from beneath the hood of his sweatshirt like the legs of a spider, and he kept his eyes hidden behind thick sunglasses. "It wasn't my first choice, but I prefer to travel cheaply, and in my experience no one pays attention to what happens in these parts of big cities."

"It's fine. You do you. Can't say I want to spend a single second more here than I need to, though." She said, speaking clearly in spite of her slight Japanese accent. She reached into the pocket of her red jacket, removing a jagged red crystal. The gem was about the size of her palm, and glowed ominously as she retrieved it, the magic sealed inside it reacting to the mana she generated unconsciously. She looked to her companion, who nodded his consent, and then she slammed the gem against the clearest, cleanest wall available to her.

"Erenerung an das wort!" She shouted as it shattered into dozens of pieces due to the force, with the glow that had originally filled the gem itself now spreading to the wall, using it as a canvas across which an image slowly formed. It started as a vaguely humanoid shadow, gradually clearing into the image of a man's bust, before finally filling in the details of its subject, taking the form of a man. He was a bald, middle-aged man of European descent. He stared forward into space with cold gray eyes, his face lightly wrinkled even in spite of the complete even expression he wore on his lips. He was only visible from the waist up, but it was clear he was wearing a flowing purple robe, sealed by a sash around his waist that was emblazoned with the image of a gold raven.

"Yukiko Takeda and Eric Strenger. This briefing is to be played when you rendezvous with each other in America." He spoke with a voice so deep it could almost be called a growl. The spell was merely a recording of words already captured ahead of time, so Yukiko didn't feel bad about shuddering a little when she heard it, since he couldn't notice and get mad. He was her employer, but everything about the way he carried himself reminded her of an overly strict father figure.

"Upon meeting with one another, your mission to investigate the organization called "Euphoria" and their holy grail invitation begins. Most of the Mage's Association wanted to ignore the call to this 'holy grail war.' We know the location of the true grail, and when it will manifest again, so there was no merit to investigating a mere counterfeit. However, we've confirmed that servants have been summoned; Some are exceptionally powerful. To summon even a low-level servant would require a tremendous source of magical energy, so even if this object which Euphoria has in its possession isn't a true grail, it must be formidable. We of the Association had some unpleasant dealings with these people in the past, so if they've gotten their hands on a weapon capable of manifesting servants and conducting an ersatz grail war, it would be in our interests to relieve them of it.

"Eric Strenger, we've received word that you have succeeded in becoming the master of Assassin." This surprised Yukio, who cast a glance toward her young companion. He shrugged in reply, raising the back of his right hand to show her the command seal tattoo imprinted upon it. She had been under the impression that she would be the only agent infiltrating the war, but there wasn't any reason to be upset at it. One less enemy to worry about.

"Your role will be reconnaissance," continued the recording, "continue to gather information on the locations of enemy masters and servants, and update Yukiko as they change. You are to avoid direct combat with any enemies, be they masters or members of Euphoria, until the second phase of the mission begins."

Eric's face remained placid. Come to think of it, his expression hadn't changed once since the moment Yukiko arrived. She wondered if he was one of those 'emotionless spy' types, and the thought made her sigh. If she was going to have a partner, she would prefer he have a bit of personality.

"Yukiko Takeda," the sound of her name caused her to return her attention to the task at hand. She'd have all the time in the world to lament boring partners after the briefing.

"It would be obvious to any mage worth their crest that this holy grail war is a fraud. Thus, we can safely assume that any magus who proceeded to summon a servant and compete is either low-born or desperate. People like that can't be trusted to maintain and respect the Magi code of secrecy and discretion, so we run the risk of a competitor creating a spectacle that will draw unwanted eyes toward our society. Your task will be twofold. On the surface, you'll go through the motions of competing in the war, but in truth you are to investigate the area. Try to find the organizers of the event, and eliminate them if possible, but your primary task will be to find the device they're using as a holy grail, and steal it. If you're able to return the artifact to the Clocktower without destroying it, your reward will be doubled.

"If you discover a competitor in the war who is making an undue spectacle of themselves, however, you are to give priority to exterminating them. The secrecy of the magi world is of paramount importance. Use your discretion in the field to decide when it's necessary to step in. Regarding your servant, of the seven classes who participate in the war, the strongest in combat are the three knight classes: Saber, Archer, and Lancer. Unfortunately, our scouts report that representatives of all three have already been made manifest, so our advice is to summon a Berserker instead. The Berserker class is unruly, and demands tremendous amounts of mana from its master, but in exchange for these limitations they possess great strength and endurance.

"You now have your assignments. For the sake of security, the two of you are to execute your missions separately, and to interact as little as possible. Yukiko, Eric will give you the address of a safehouse we've purchased, use it as your workshop during the fighting to come. The Einzbern family has agreed to part with two of their dolls to assist you. Both are low class, but alas, few in the association truly grasp the danger posed by Euphoria. Use them to assist you in providing mana to your servant, and if Euphoria's grail requires a physical vessel to manifest, like the true grail, they can be used for that purpose, as well. The dolls await you at your safehouse, alongside the catalyst we've prepared to help you summon a powerful servant. Best of luck to both of you."

The image of the man on the wall flickered for a moment, and then faded away, leaving no trace of anything, save the grime that existed there beforehand, remaining on the wall. As if on cue, Eric extended his hand toward her, producing a slip of paper with a few words scribbled onto it.

"Thank you! You know, there's a flaw in the Association's thinking. They're bribing us with money, but if one of us wins the grail, they can just wish for that money, instead. Would save us some trouble, don't you think?" She winked and stuck out her tongue after saying this. It should have been clear she was joking, but she didn't know if she could trust one of those gloomy types to catch onto sarcasm, regardless how obvious.

"You can do that if you want." Said Eric in his deadpan voice, indeed missing her joke entirely. "All I care about is completing my mission. I have no interest in the holy grail." He traced the outline of the command seal tattoo on his hand, lost in thought.

"What's this, master? Such language! Servants don't obey their masters out of the kindness of their hearts. They, too, have a wish they want to cast upon the grail… and they can't very well do that if their master is so apathetic." A high-pitched, almost shrieking male voice suddenly protested. The hair on the back of Yukiko's neck stood on end. The sudden voice was coming from directly behind her, so close she could feel his breath on her skin. She turned her head, eyes wide with shock. A broad, pale face was directly behind her, teeth flashing in a wide grin which revealed inhuman, fanglike canines. Above the smile was a pair of equally uncanny eyes, which seemed more like a cat's than a man's, with black corneas surrounding silvery irises and diamond-shaped pupils. Her body reacted instinctively, forcing her elbow into the creature's face and launching herself away from him, leaping back until Eric was closer to the it than she was.

"Assassin..." Eric said, his voice carrying a slight hint of reproach, as one might use to scold a pet dog for barking. This was assassin? Yukiko had thought that heroic spirits had to be human to be summoned as servants, and this man, although humanoid, was distinctly alien. He stood just shy of eight feet tall, though the tophat on his head made him look taller still. He was dressed as one might imagine a dapper gentleman in 19th century london to dress: with a red doublet beneath his chin and above a black twin-tailed coat and woolen pants. His face aside, his hair was long, greasy and wiry, stretching all the way down to the calves of his long, gangling legs. His arms were too long, as well, with enormous hands and slender fingers that ended in bony, talon-like tips.

"Of course, my wish is being granted as we speak." Assassin's eyes met Yukiko's, and his smile grew wider. "To stalk the streets, to feel the horror of passersby, and to imbibe myself upon the close proximity of beautiful women! Having one more chance to experience these pleasures is all I could ever wish for in this world!"

Eric raised his arm so that it served as a barrier between his servant and his partner, "Behave however you please Assassin, provided you do nothing to hinder my mission, and follow my orders before all else. Now begone."

"Mmm!" Assassin squealed, his body beginning to fade away. Summoned servants could become intangible on a whim, breaking themselves down into spiritron particles until their bodies were needed again. "And this is why I looove my apathetic master. Farewell, beautiful lady!" He began to cackle, a sound which hung in the air long after he had completely vanished into the ether. The pair stood in place for a moment, staring at the empty space where the servant had been.

"I apologize." Eric said, looking back at Yukiko with the corner of his mouth pulling softly down.

"It's fine. I was more startled than frightened. I didn't know monsters could be summoned as heroic spirits." Yukiko reassured him. It was true that she wasn't 'scared' per se, but the encounter was definitely all the excitement she needed tonight. She looked down at the paper Eric had given her, grimacing as she realized the address written there was on the other side of the city. She stuffed the note in her pocket and started heading toward the door.

"Spring-heeled Jack." Noted Eric, with surprising casualness. "Not a monster, really. More of an urban legend based around a botched homunculus who stalked the streets of London two centuries ago." Normally, masters kept the identities of their servants a carefully guarded secret. If your enemies knew who was defending you, they would know their abilities and weaknesses, so most masters instead addressed their servants by the class into which they were summoned. Then again, Eric did say he didn't care about the war.

"Huh, I guess now I know to keep my guard up. Best to learn that now rather than in front of an enemy later. I'm an optimist. I'm going to leave now, Eric, you take care of yourself." She smiled warmly at him, an expression he reciprocated with his usual stony stare, to the surprise of no one in the room.

"There was one final warning I was asked to give you," He walked to the door, opening it up for his partner as she headed out. "The leader of Euphoria is a man named Pieceman. Try to avoid being noticed by him for as long as possible. It cannot be understated how dangerous of an enemy he is." Yukiko thanked him again, and the pair departed. The war for which they were preparing would begin upon the dawn.