Sheesh, about time we proceed with some fighting. ^_^;

Lucatiel stared Berserker down. The tension seemed to grow with every passing second as they circled on the same path, glaring daggers at each other. Despite the blindfold over his eyes, Saber was without a doubt certain that he could see her as well as she could him. The question was, who would strike first?

Was she faster than this oddly-dressed Servant of the enemy? That remained to be seen. Irisviel was standing a short distance away from the conflict and there was no doubt that Berserker's Master was somewhere in the vicinity. Hiding.

Would she be able to protect Iri should the enemy betray the chivalrous code and attempt to strike her down instead?

"Fear not for your Master's safety." The gray-haired man spoke, surprising her completely. A Berserker capable of coherent speech, let alone one so... serene, all things considering? "If she stays out of harm's way, she will not fall." Lucatiel replied with a terse nod before a wave of magic enveloped her. Soon she wore familiar clothes again. Yes, now she felt more like herself.

"Your kindness is appreciated." She finally spoke, brandishing her weapons. A sword and a shield of a Mirrah knight; trusty and reliable. They might have been nothing extraordinary compared to whatever Berserker would use against her, but they would be enough. They have always been enough. Even a God can be killed with them, as far as she knew.

The man brandished his own weapon in kind: it was a poleaxe of sorts, seemingly crude, but very solid. A slow, but long-ranged weapon. If not for the faint aura of madness around him, Saber could honestly think the enemy Servant was a Lancer.

Lucatiel and Irisviel exchanged glances, then the white-haired maiden took a step back, nodding to her "Servant".

"We may begin then." With a traditional Mirrah salute, blond-haired warrior bowed and approached her opponent slowly. Berserker bowed in kind, differently from her, but that probably was of little surprise. It seemed that they were of two entirely different lands.

It was time for the battle to begin.

Assassin watched the unfolding battle with a Mirrah knightess and the man of blood from a nearby tower, perched at its very edge.

Her orders were to scout out for Servants and Masters that would inevitably appear at this very first conflict of the Grail War. No interference was to be undertaken, at least for now.

Saber's Master didn't bother hiding, likely confident of her Servant's ability. She was likely almost equally in the dark about their realm of living as her own Master was, so that was either naivete or a lot of faith put in someone Ciaran couldn't say she recognized. As far as she knew it could be any Mirrah warrior. They all wore those silly feathered hats. Of course, the very flow of time and space was a fickle thing, so perhaps she was someone long past her age, past her lifespan. It felt odd thinking about the future in this prospect.

She quickly found Berserker's - for a given value of the word - Master as well. Hidden not too far away from the main conflict, he was too conveniently-placed to be omitted as a simple homeless man.

And then there were those two humans perched on the other side, well-hidden for other humans and maybe even other Servants. But Ciaran was not an other Servant. They seemed focused on the conflict below although the man with the rifle - that's how the weapon was called - also seemed to scout out for other targets. At some point he spotted her, but remained as unmoving as ever, likely under an impression that Assassin would try to stop them from doing something funny.

Who were they? Either of the Masters' hired thugs? That seemed almost contrary to what she knew of the mages of this world. Her Master's words also seemed to reinforce th-wait a second.

...

How clever. Then again, Ciaran of all people should have known better. The Magus Killer was a he and explictly not an Einzbern as the woman posing as Saber's Master. The real mastermind was hidden from sight, monitoring the situation. The woman accompanying him was likely an accomplice of sorts then.

Even so, Assassin was not to interfere. If something went wrong, Gough was observing the area from a further distance, ready to notch and release an arrow. That probably would not be necessary, but Ciaran appreciated having a friend having her back.

For now, she watched.

As the battle raged on in the docks, Tokiomi Tohsaka weighed his options.

Truly, the situation was growing more and more bizarre with each passing hour. To think there would be such a thing as a stray Servant seeking shelter within the Church normally reserved for Servantless Masters... truly bizarre.

When Risei sent him a notification that there was a pressing matter to attend to, he sent in Kirei with Assassin's assist. As it turned out, a Caster and what could only be described as a wraith almost as strong as an actual Servant remained there, having killed their previous Master to, curiously, save a child offered to them as sacrifices. It seemed that the short-lived Master was clueless about the war and merely summoned them out of coincidence.

Still, to see a Servant show such compassion for an unaffiliated civilian, not even a Magus... but then again, as someone who had a daughter, Tokiomi could understand it, to an extent. He made sure that both Aoi and Rin were evacuated from Fuyuki before the war began, much to the latter's displeasure. He would explain in due time, he supposed.

What about Caster and her own Servant, so to say, then? Tokiomi hoped that they could be convinced to cooperate. Neither he nor Kirei could establish another contract without breaking the previous one, but having such an ally on the side, if only to a small extent, could very much prove beneficial. Casters were probably better off that way in most cases, just quietly monitoring the events and taking action from the shadows. Of course, that birthed another question: just what could Tokiomi offer to a Servant other than a Grail itself?

Archer seemed content with just serving and mentioned he has no real wish to fulfill. Assassin shared the similar sentiment although something about her own confession seemed untrustworthy. Perhaps there was something, a deep-hidden desire she wanted to not share. If convinced to let go of it, Tokiomi could then offer Caster whatever she wished.

And there was no doubt she wished for something. Kirei - strangely moved by his encounter with her - described her as someone deeply religious, someone who regrets the past. Some sort of unfinished business in the past, most likely. She seemed kind of happy to see his student, even, as a fellow priest.

Of course, given how bizarre and strange the Servants summoned were, that did little to reveal her true name. Even so, Tokiomi doubted it would tell him anything.

Sola-Ui was furious.

Was Kayneth really that much of a coward? Did he continue to doubt Lancer's ability to fight? Has he not figured out that the wheelchair was but a masquerade, a form the old Servant was simply comfortable with?

It seemed obvious to her, at the very least. It had to be a masquerade. She had yet to see Lancer fight, but as much as she spited her fiance - eugh - she was confident in his ability to summon a Servant strong enough to match all the others. She was married to him because he was such an accomplished Magus and because her family saw fit to pit her with him, as much as she found the concept abhorrent.

Of course, her initial response was that of enthusiasm. Kayneth was rich, skilled and, as much as she hated to admit it, caring. It seemed like the entire empathy he had he decided to focus on her and disregard everything else. In a sense, this striked Sola's fancy. Attention was something she craved.

But then, as days passed by, she found him increasingly boring. He did his best to appease her and he surely was creative in doing so, but his very person, his essence... it all was just so... unremarkable. Strange, considering his position in the Association. One would think she would remain interested in him longer, if only for the riches and the social status, but no: Kayneth Archibald was about as interesting as a boulder.

Disappointment quickly became irritation and irritation swiftly transferred into dislike. He didn't seem aware of the fact and by this angered Sola even further. Soon, she became wrapped up in the War and the rest was history.

Well, at the very least she was out of harm's way.

As a result of his cowardly tactic, Kayneth only sent in a number of familiars to survey the area where the first battle was taking place. Quickly, three Servants have been identified: Saber, Assassin and a surprisingly sane Berserker. There was also Saber's Master, a woman of Einzbern. Assassin mostly seemed to just survey the area and keep tabs on the battle rather than get involved.

Lancer, mostly indifferent about the conflict, perked up a little when the Berserker was mentioned. Quite so, according to familiars' reception, their clothes weren't too different. When the blindfold was mentioned, a knowing smile appeared on elderly Servant's face as if he knew the identity of Berserker in question. Kayneth, for some reason, decided to not question him further.

Well, they could only wait by now.

Lucatiel was making progress.

Her opponent was matching her in speed and was way stronger than her: every swing of his axe rippled the air something fiercely. His rhythm, however, was fairly predictable. It was almost as if Berserker feared letting go of it.

She used her shield mostly to block whatever she could afford to while dodging away from anything that she thought could stagger her figure for a kill. Both of them favored a defensive approach but ultimately it was Berserker who attacked with more ferocity, more often.

Seeing this imposing man do battle... it was almost as if she saw something only half-human.

Saber moved to the side to avoid a slamming strike that crushed the asphalt under the axe into powder. The poleaxe, dragged through the ground with a screech swung in an effort to catch up with her, but she was already out of the way, the distance between them increasing to neutral again. As it turned out, Berserker's reach did little to help him.

"Hm. I guess we have a bit of an impasse." The gray-haired man straightened himself up, setting the axe on the ground.

"Do we now?" Saber mirrored the gesture, briefly glancing towards Irisviel. The white-haired woman watched the battle from the sidelines, trying her best to look hopeful for her. It was a welcome gesture.

"You haven't been too active on offense, Saber. I, in turn, cannot break your defense." With a low chuckle, Berserker grabbed the poleaxe in both arms and then... pulled on both ends. In a moment, the upper half of the axe separated from the pole itself as the lower part vanished into nothingness of magic. "I suppose I will have to kick it up the notch then, if you wish to remain hidden behind your shield." With those words he charged in, his weapon shorter, but much faster. It was still Berserker's old pace, but the attacks were swifter, as was to be expected from a lighter and smaller weapon.

Pushed to complete defensive, Lucatiel didn't find it hard to notice that Irisviel looked that much more concerned. No matter. She would not fail. She perhaps wasn't anyone special, but she was still a Mirrah knightess, a fine enough warrior to combat Berserker's savage fighting style.

She fought much worse.

Even a Magus as mediocre as Waver could tell that the docks tonight weren't a good place to go.

The whole harbor emanated with powerful signatures, obviously befitting those of Servants. There were only two, as far as Rider was concerned, but that was still two too much. Frankly, Waver was getting way more nervous now that the war has actually started. He was so in over his head. He, an excuse of a Magus, with a Servant that he could only describe as weak despite his strong presence...

Or perhaps he was just thinking that Dragonrider was weak? He couldn't afford to see everything in such bleak colors. Nameless or not, Rider was still a Servant, a Heroic Spirit, a warrior mighty as a mountain.

And, as it turned out, was more than willing to be a dirty stinking cheater.

"There is no need for magical mounts and phantasmal vehicles if we can use the mundane." He tapped the steering wheel briefly. They have stopped just outside the city on a small cliff overlooking the docks, with Waver observing the situation via binoculars. There wasn't much he could make out of it, but it was most likely due to the fact that Servants fighting was a sight simply uncatchable by a human eye.

He did notice a faint shape of a white figure standing a bit to the side, likely one of the Masters.

"Still, er... isn't that plan of yours a bit... er..." Deep breath, Waver. "Well, frankly it is quite insane."

"I'd rather not take any chances. Do you, Master?" No, the student did not. He was hopelessly outmatched by just about anyone else in this conflict. Hell, apart from Kayneth he didn't even know who the other contestants were.

"Of course, this is mostly a contingency plan." Rider shrugged his broad shoulders. "The opponents might prove beatable with orthodox means."

"I don't know if "might" is what we're looking for."

"I don't know if we have anything else." Good point. "The figures at the docks are none I recognize, sadly. I only know that Saber is of Mirrah."

"What is that?"

"A land east of Drangleic, a kingdom of knights." Dragonrider explained, tapping the steering wheel rhythmically. "It houses very fine warriors, or so it did back in a day. Hardened with battles."

"That's not reassuring." Waver pointed out dejectedly.

"Really, I could say all of us Servants are." Rider shrugged again, shifting a little in his seat. How was he fitting in it, that Waver did not know. "Seems Saber is gaining an advantage." The student looked through his binoculars. As expected, not much could be seen other than faint blurs. He couldn't even tell if the white figurine of a Master did something notable.

Berserker's pace remained repetitive. Lucatiel could feel it well now.

They spent a bit more time dueling, but even with the gray-haired man switching between his fighting styles she could feel the rhythm of his attacks; block and evade them appropriately. Not even a sudden change of his axe would make it any different. She knew by now.

Her steps became more confident as she swiftly moved out of crushing blows' way. She could not hope to sneak in an attack through Berserker's flurry of strikes, but such frequency made him vulnerable to being opened up with a single parry. All she needed to do was to time in with his attack, move her shield accordingly... and that would be enough to end Berserker's participation in the war.

Step to the left. Back. Roll. Block. It all clicked together. In a few seconds, she would be able to follow up on that.

Berserker swung his axe downward. This was it! Lucatiel stepped forward, her shield moving aside rather than staying close to her to block the attack, something that violated common sense...

Except his weapon moved aside as well. Although his eyes were hidden, there was no mistaking a change in his facial expression: he was not at all prepared for this maneuver. The time around them slowed as Lucatiel moved for the killing blow, the blade pushing through to meet Berserker's chest...

And then, out of nowhere, he batted her sword away with... something quite like a club. Held in his other hand, it brushed the blade just enough to miss his chest and only strike his arm with a pained hiss. The club had an opening at its front, as if it was some sort of... miniature... ca... nnon...

Saber froze, the eyes behind her mask widening.

"Too proud to show your true face, eh?" Although his pained, there was triumph and satisfaction in Berserker's voice. "But a sporting hunt, it was."

There was a small click, a loud bang, a moment of excruciating pain... and then everything went black.

Was this... was this really happening?

Irisviel just stood there, completely and utterly shocked as Saber's body, her head turned into bloody chunks, was flung backwards by the buckshot from Berserker's... firearm and crashed down onto the ground, motionless. What... what was all this? What was happening? Although she still had trouble perceiving the battle between the two, she could see the brief stop when Lucatiel parried away Berserker's blow... and then, as if on cue, her opponent brought out a gun. An ordinary firearm wouldn't be able to harm a Servant... but one wielded by them and being their own weapon was as deadly as any other weapon.

She dropped to her knees, a truly despaired expression on her face. Some part of her desperately wanted to believe that this is just Saber's plan to catch Berserker off-guard; perhaps some sort of gambit that she was unaware of. It wouldn't end so suddenly... so quickly, right?

"That will be all." The man dismissed his weapons, holding his arm. The blood was still dripping from the wound and through his fingers. "Whoever she was, she was a good prey." Berserker bowed again, this time addressing Irisviel. "Stay out of trouble, young one. You were defeated." With those words said, his form vanished into the night.

As he disappeared, so did Saber's body, fading away into red dust.

Above the finished battle, Kiritsugu Emiya clicked his tongue nervously.

Things just got that much more complicated.