Foreword: Canonically, Waver Velvet and Tohsaka Rin dismantled the Holy Grail in the 2010s. But this author wonders what would have happened if Waver had been given the opportunity to claim an uncorrupted Grail, and fulfill an oath of fealty made long ago...

Note: I am aware that the correct term for energy present in humans and animals in the Fate universe is "od." I'm using the word "mana" instead for simplification and because I think the word is not as weird or strange or od. See what I did there?

Disclaimer: I'm one of those guys who watched the anime but never read the light novels. Apologies if I contradict canon!

Introduction

The Holy Grail—the cup that held the blood of Christ, its name now synonymous with ultimate achievement.

For hundreds of years, mages from every corner of the world have fought to claim it, their battles spilling rivers of blood, all in the name of attaining their truest desires. Five times since its inception by the Three Families of Tohsaka, Einzbern, and Mato has the Holy Grail War been raged. Each time legendary figures have appeared to fight for their Masters as Servants, brought from the distant past and future to fight to the death. Each time, the Holy Grail War has caused untold death and destruction.

By the Fifth Holy Grail War, that death and destruction had consumed the Three Families themselves. The Mato conserve their strength, in vain hope of one day recovering. The Einzbern, having tried their best, have retreated back into their hidden castles. And the last head of the Tohsaka wants nothing to do with the Grail...

But the War continues. For the seventh time, Command Seals have appeared on the hands of the chosen Masters. With the old powers of the Three Families now gone, new ones have taken their place, no less eager to claim the Grail. From the halls of the Vatican, from the Great Plains of America, from the modern fortresses of Korea, seven new Masters have summoned seven new Servants...

The Seventh Holy Grail War has begun. This is the story as it is remembered.

And, like so many stories, it begins in London town...

Chapter One

London, England

The Clock Tower

9 o' clock at night

It was different this time. A different Servant would entail a different incantation, of course, but there were also more subtle changes. Last time, he had stumbled into it. Last time, he had no idea what he would wish for. Last time, he was a child meddling in a very, very grown-up game. Last time, he lost.

This was not like last time.

He was a fully grown now, a man of body, mind, and station. He wore his customary dark suit, a crimson coat thrown over it and a golden scarf wrapped around the lapels. His hair fell down long and dark, and his eyes were focused and calm. He was not the nervous boy he was so long ago.

"Let silver and steel be the essence." he intoned. Unlike sixteen years ago, he was now sure and steady, and kept his eyes fixed on the summoning seal carved into the library floor—a major improvement over the one he'd drawn into his bedroom.

"Let the oaths of kings and saints bind strong the foundation of our contract." He breathed naturally, evenly, letting the words slip out with a practiced patience. "Let the blue of the sky at day and the black of the sky at night be called upon."

"Let rise the winds that toss the sands. Let the four cardinal gates close. Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate."

As he spoke, he picked up the tempo. Now, the rest of the room began to fade in his eyes, not because of any physical reason, but because his attention was drawn just to the now-glowing seal, and the scrap of cloth inside. A scrap of cloth so similar to the one he had stolen so long ago...but this time faded into a sort of gray, rather than crimson. Perhaps, at one point, it had been blue.

"Let it be filled!" He cried out. Alright. There was no going back now. "Again. Again. Again!"

He was shouting now, letting his composure crack slightly. The light of the seal had reached blinding levels. He raised his hand, commanding the seal. He paused, briefly, to draw breath, this time ragged and harsh.

"Again."

The searing light dimmed to a soft glow. Lord Waver El-Melloi II Velvet lowered his hand.

In front of him stood a dark-skinned man, dressed in loose pantaloons and a wraparound skirt of white canvas. His feet were clad in wood-and-reed sandals, with a few simple bracelets of gold hanging around his wrists and arms. His dark hair was knotted loosely back, and his face was covered by a bushy beard.

He did not look like a prince, but you would not have mistaken him for anything else.

Waver's new Servant carried a resplendent gilded bow in his right hand, and a quiver packed with arrows in his left. He stood in the straight but relaxed manner of someone who knew how to command a room. Waver would know—he'd learned how to do it himself, although he suspected his Servant never had to learn, and was probably born a leader. He had met someone like that before. Someone with the same red eyes. Someone used to being in command, used to giving the orders. A commander, a ruler, a king.

It was odd, then, that the first thing this noble prince asked him was "are you my Master?"

Waver nodded. "I am."

London, England

The Embassy of the Democratic People's Republic of Korea

2200 hours

"Isn't there any more?"

"No, sir. The ritual is actually very simple, once the catalyst and Command Seal have been acquired. The Grail handles the actual summoning and binding, and the Master is only called upon to donate their mana."

Kim Yun Sung snorted derisively. "Had I known it was going to be this easy, I would have done it myself. Now I feel like an idiot with all of you standing around."

The Second Consultation Room was packed. Attendant wizards stood in three concentric circles around the center of the room. Armed guards awaited just outside, notably carrying swords at their hips to complement the rifles in their hands. In addition, there were a large group of secretaries,photographers and artists there to bear witness and record this historic moment.

But the room itself was dominated by the presence of three men, standing in a rough triangle facing the summoning circle inscribed in the center of the room. One of these men wore the irregular robe-like uniform of the Secretary of Magic. The other displayed an absurd amount of war medals on top of his general's uniform.

The last was a young man with short, swept black hair who had rolled up the sleeves of his uniform jacket, partly to show off how confident and relaxed he was (and against a backdrop of flawless military precision, the effect was noticeable) and mostly to show off the livid red Command Seal on the back of his right hand. This last man was Captain Kim Yun Sung.

His attention was on the golden ring in the center of the summoning circle.

"Begin mana amalgamation!" ordered General Truong, his voice ringing with authority. The Secretary of Magic made a subtle hand signal behind his back. One guess as to which command the wizards heeded. As a single unit, they linked hands, and began murmuring the incantations they'd spent the last year rehearsing. Even Yun Sung, who had never quite taken to the study of magic, could feel the power in the air. "My Servant will be strong," he murmured to himself. "Perhaps, strong enough to keep up!"

"Begin your incantation now, Captain." Secretary Minh said softly. Yun Sung nodded sharply, before flashing his friend a wicked smile. Laughing, he replied: "Let's hope I remember all the words!"

Minh Tae Jong didn't crack a smile. Yun Sung didn't notice, his attention focused on the relic before him. He raised his hand, arrogantly, grasping, with little of the poise that Tae Jong would have used, had he been in Yun Sung's place.

"Silver and steel are the essence!"

Tae Jong resisted the impulse to facepalm.

"The oaths of kings and the promises of saints strongly bind the foundations of our contract!"

Let the oaths of kings and the promises of saints bind strong the foundations of our contract. Tae Jong silently corrected. He could not believe it. They had practiced so many times—not even Yun Sung should have been able to make such mistakes! And so many of them!

"I call upon the red of the sky at dusk and the violet of the sky at dawn." What? Tae Jong's eyes widened. This was no mistake. It couldn't be. This was not something ad libbed or improvised. It sounded too natural. No, Yun Sung must be going off his own damn script! And...and...it was working. The summoning circle was responding.

"The rising wind scatters the wandering sands! The four cardinal gates close fast! The three-forked road rotates, reaching from the crown to its kingdom!"

Tae Jong stiffened as he watched the tableau. What is he doing? And how?

"Now fill! Again! Again! Again!"

The light forced everyone else in the room to shut their eyes and turn away. Yun Sung did not. And neither did Tae Jong.

"Again!"

The light died down quickly, but Tae Jong's eyes recovered slowly. For a moment, he saw nothing but the hazy outlines of the room, with a soft glow coming from a figure in the center. When his eyes refocused, he saw the Servant that had been summoned using his mana, and that of his wizards. She was beautiful.

Her hair fell down from her winged helmet in wavy locks of chestnut. Piercing hazel eyes swept across the room, and Tae Jong felt goosebumps across his skin as those eyes passed over him, briefly meeting his own. She was clad in bronze, finely worked plates of metal covering her breast, her wrists, her shins, with scaled mail covering her forearms and thighs with leather and fur filling the gaps. Everything about her radiated strength, from her rigid stance to her strong jaw to the shining shield and spear of silver and steel she held confidently in one hand.

This is a woman, Tae Jong thought. A woman worth dying for.

"Are you my master?" She demanded. Tae Jong screamed inside. Yes! Yes! I am!

"Yeah." Yun Sung answered. "So you're my Servant. Lancer, huh? I was hoping for Saber."

"What? You dare—do I not meet your expectations?" Lancer hissed between her teeth, her grip on her spear tightening.

"Nope." Yun Sung said, studying his Command Seal. "This thing broken? I didn't expect my Servant to be so disrespectful."

"And I didn't expect my Master-" in her mouth, it was a vulgar insult. "-to be a whining brat!"

Yun Sung's boredom faded away. "What did you call me?"

"A brat, because that's what you are. Look at you! You couldn't even summon me on your own! Look at all these wizards and guards around you. Did you even participate in the summoning? You don't look like much of a wizard at all!"

"Yeah, because I'm not."

"What?"

"I'm not a wizard. That magic stuff bores me."

Lancer let her jaw drop, completely flabbergasted. Tae Jong could relate. The idea of Yun Sung being a Master was insane to him as well...but the Command Seals had manifested on his wrist. His.

"You—you are no true Master. You cannot be worthy."

"Yeah?" Yun Sung snapped, now riled. "Well your opinion doesn't matter, Servant. According to the Grail, I am still your Master and you will treat me with respect!"

"Make me. If you know how, that is!"

"Fuck yeah I know how!" Tae Jong winced. Surely Yun Sung was smart enough not to waste a Command Seal on this! Oh, what I am saying. He's not smart enough to do an incantation right. No wonder Lancer's so unruly—she wasn't bound properly.

Yun Sung then surprised his attendants, and Tae Jong, and most of all Lancer by stepping forward and kicking her in the face. His foot snapped up sharply and drove the heel of his boot squarely into Lancer's jaw.

Her head jerked back as she staggered out of the circle. The wizards behind her jostled each other out of the way as Yun Sung pressed the attack, stepping forward to fire off another kick. Lancer ducked, but his instep caught one of the wings in her helmet and caused her to stumble. Snarling, she raised her shield to block Yun Sung's next kick while jabbing forward with her spear.

At their close range, Yun Sung was able to grab onto the spear, anchoring himself against her weight. Snarling himself, he drew the combat knife from his hip and slashed at Lancer's face. She surprised him by leaning into the strike, deflecting the knife with her cheek armor, and then pushing forward into him, throwing him backward.

Yun Sung dropped his knife to avoid landing on it and rolled quickly to his feet, coming up just in front of Tae Jong, who was still standing in shock. He fell back out of the way when Lancer came charging forward, her spear flashing. Her Master drew his pistol from his left hip with his left hand and gave her the finger with his right.

"Fuck you! Fuck you!" He screamed as he fired four shots that Lancer deflected harmlessly with her shield. Grimacing, he threw the pistol at her and fell back to his tried-and-true technique of kicking her in the face. Lancer switched it up by parrying the thrown pistol with her spear and swinging her shield forward. Yun Sung's foot bounced uselessly off the shaft of the spear and his upraised arm painfully caught the edge of her shield. Despite himself, Tae Jong cracked a smile at Yun Sung's gasp of pain.

Exulting in victory, Lancer laughed as Yun Sung stumbled back. She lunged forward with her spear—but only to have Yun Sung duck beneath it to land on his knees. Irritated, she kicked at his face, now at her waist-level, which was her big mistake. Her Master grabbed it, his fingers tightening like vises. He fell onto his back as his leg flew out and swept Lancer off her remaining foot. She fell in a crash of leather and bronze on the stone floor of the Consultation Room.

"I am your Master!" Yun Sung shouted at her as he stood up. He grabbed her by the wings on her helmet and hefted her up. "You will ob-"

He stopped talking after Lancer smashed her armored fist into the side of his face. Now Yun Sung hit the floor, while Lancer regained her balance. Standing over him, she tossed her hair over her shoulder and glared down at him. "I am your Servant!" She cried out in response.

For a few heartbeats, they just stared at each other, him on the floor and her standing over him.

"And I will obey you—so long as you teach me how to kick like that."

From his position on the floor, Yun Sung looked up, and laughed. Lancer grabbed him by the lapels and hauled him up. "I think..." he said as he faced the armored warrior.

"We'll actually get along just fine, Lancer."

London, England

St. Catherine's Docks

11:37pm

Xandra Hart stood on the roof of a pub at St. Catherine's Docks, with two swords in her hands and two dogs by her side. The dogs had names, and so did the swords. She didn't expect trouble, but she had learned to be cautious from an incident in her childhood. She had also learned to trust dogs. She learned both from the same incident, in fact.

"I'm a bit giddy, to be honest." she said to her dogs. "I'm not sure if it's excitement or fear or whatnot, but it's making me jittery. Oh, I sincerely hope this is all going to go according to plan..."

Managarm woofed, not because he was a dog and that was what dogs do, but because he was a familiar in the shape of a dog, and that was what familiars in the shapes of dogs do.

"I get what you're saying." She had no idea—humans can't understand dogs, or familiars in the shapes of dogs. "Well, there's no point fretting about it. Might as well get it over with."

Garm woofed, not because he was a familiar in the shape of a dog and that was what familiars in the shapes of dogs did, but because she had ended a sentence with a preposition and he did not approve in the slightest.

"Alright, smoothly and evenly. I'm fourth-generation, this should be no problem..."

She inhaled and exhaled three times, as she was taught, and then began.

"Let silver and steel be the essence."

"Let the the saintly vows and royal oaths bind strong the foundation of our contract. Let the grand star of the day and the little stars of the night be called upon."

"Woof." said Managarm, because it was getting bright.

"Let rise the winds that toss the sands. Let the four cardinal gates close. Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate!"

"Awooo!" Garm and Managarm both howled, because it was an intense moment and it seemed fitting that they should howl. Xandra appeared to realize the intensity of the moment too, and raised the two swords high.

"Let it be filled! Again. Again, again, again!"

Both swords snapped out of her hands, and Xandra fell back slightly. The searing light of the summoning had coalesced into the figure of a man standing before her. Her cardigan was blown back over her shoulders, and hung loosely from her arms. Her light brown hair, never in the best of order, was tossed haphazardly out of place. She managed to keep her footing, assisted by Garm, who helpfully pushed her back onto her feet. Managarm leaped in front of her, hackles raised and teeth bared, ready in the event that the newcomer proved to be harmful. She shifted her glasses back into place, to fully take in the sight of her new Servant.

"Ay!" the man said. "The Grail warned me about the fashions of the day, but I am still surprised at their...boldness. Such would not have passed in my day. You look positively Moorish, dressed in pantaloons like that. Are you not ashamed?"

"Um..." Xandra replied, a bit taken aback. "I'm not sure what just came out of your mouth, but it didn't sound like "are you my Master?" which is the question you should have asked. And yes, I am, in case you're wondering. And these aren't pantaloons. They're cargo pants."

"They are hideous, is what they are! My lessons from the Grail tell me that this is common dress of the day, even for women, but-"

"But fuck you, I dress fine. Welcome to the 21st century."

"I am most assuredly not welcome, given the abysmal—why can't you at least cover your ankles, girl?"

Xandra sighed irritably. "Goddammit. I bet none of the other Masters have to deal with this shit. Anyway, you're one to talk. Look at you! You look like you just sashayed out of a Vegas strip club!"

He wore a simple helm with a single feather rising from the tip, and a metal cuirass. That was the only sensible bit. The rest was layers of wool and cloth and satin that confusingly stacked on top of each other and spilled from every available point of attachment. He also had an outrageous beard. The two swords she'd held in her hands now hung from his hips, in fancy scabbards of polished wood with ivory inlay and gold filigree.

"I am proud of my appearance. Unlike you, unkempt tramp."

"Are cheap insults all you're good for? Can you do anything else?"

"I know what I can't do. I can't stand pointless commoners who don't know their station."

"Commoners? Seriously?" Xandra shook her head. "Not that it matters, but for the record, my name is Alexandra Hart. Eldest daughter and current family head of the Kencester Harts. Read through your stupid Grail memories and see if you can remember that. By the way, fuck you."

The Spaniard actually took her advice, and his brow knitted for a moment as he searched through his muddle of memories. Then, his jaw dropped to the floor, followed by the rest of him, as he bowed—literally bowed—in front of her.

"Countess! Forgive me, I did not think. You appearance—ah—I mistook you for a—that is, I did not mean to offend..."

"Fuck you again, Saber. I don't care what you think, so long as you can fight."

"Fight, Mistress?" he said. The Spaniard straightened up, and with a dashing smile stared at her right in the eye. "That, I can do."