The various fictional worlds, characters and elements that are written about in this fanfiction belong to their various creators, who I'm too lazy to list. This is purely a fan work and not intended to generate any sort of profit. I know that if it does a fair number of bloodthirsty lawyers are likely to make my life miserable. As always constructive criticism is welcome and flames will be ignored.

Well, here's the other chapter that I've been promising you; I hope that it proves to be entertaining.

I'd also like to thank the various people that have been kind enough to send me suggestions for Avatars. If anyone has any more ideas please feel free to suggest them as I still have some slots open. All your ideas are appreciated and will hopefully help in later chapters.

At the moment some character from the Warhammer 40K universe seems to be the main contender. I confess that while I am fond of the Warhammer universe I'm a little unsure of the main characters, apart from the Emperor and his sons of course since it's pretty much impossible to know anything about that universe without knowing about them. Could anyone suggest any specific characters that might be of use in my story?

SPOILERS!

I confess that I've played around a bit with the mechanics of the FOZ world's magic system because I'm a little unclear as to a few things. In the anime Count Mott was able to use both water and ice quite freely, so in this chapter I've merely enhanced those abilities to the point where he's on par with a powerful Square Class Mage. Please note that this is simply in terms of how much power and control he has, in terms of ability to use that he's far below a true Square Class in terms of skill, even if he weren't going insane.

Also I've taken a bit of liberty with the Count's combat abilities. The episode he appeared in suggested that he was either a Line or a Triangle Class Mage, so I've gone with what little magic he demonstrated and have simply amped it up.

I also wish to be perfectly clear that despite his berserker state Count Mott was not a match for Alex, the main reason that Alex had such trouble was due to his own inexperience in real combat as well as his underestimating his opponent.

I'd also like to add special thanks to my Beta for his help in getting this fight scene as good as it is. My original attempt was decent, in my own humble view, but I left a few plot holes in it. My Beta was kind enough to point them out as well as suggesting ways by which they could be corrected.


Chapter Seven: Confrontations

"I still can't believe that you're going to do this," Louise grumbled as she rode beside Alex, "It's simply not regarded as proper for one Noble to interfere in the affairs of another in this manner."

"Oh don't be such a stick in the mud Vallière. Darling is bravely setting forth to save his dear friend from the unsavoury lusts of a depraved Tristain Nobleman. Surely you're not so heartless as to stand in the way of his gallant quest."

From the horse that he was riding Alex could only ask himself for the hundredth time why he hadn't simply summoned up the Gordius Wheel and sped off into the distance to leave his companions behind. Then for the hundredth time, he reminded himself of why he'd agreed to let them accompany him.

Louise was accompanying him because as soon as he'd explained his intentions she'd stated in no uncertain terms that if he was going to the palace of the Mott family then she was going to go with him. Apparently she was convinced that if she let him go off alone then he'd end up using his chariot style Noble Phantasm to reduce the palace to ruins and start a feud between the Mott and the Vallière families.

Kirche was with them because she'd met them at the gate as they had been getting ready to leave the academy ground and she'd told them that unless she was allowed to go with them then she'd be forced to reclaim the book that Alex had taken from her the night before. In all honesty he didn't think that her threats had been intended seriously but in the end he'd agreed to let her come with them simply so that they could leave without any further delays. Louise had been less than pleased with that development and he got the impression that he'd probably be paying for it at some later date.

Tabitha was the only member of their little band that wasn't driving him up the wall. Of course that was largely due to the fact that since they'd left the academy she'd barely spoken three words and had spent the whole time reading her book. Quite frankly it was quite impressive how she managed to ride and direct her mount so perfectly without taking her eyes off the pages. She'd simply been standing next to Kirche at the gate when they'd got there. Apparently it was something of a two for one deal with them. Still, Alex was glad to have the small air mage along with them with any luck she might prove to be something of a restraining influence on the other two.

So far though things weren't quite going as he'd hoped they would.

Still, he wasn't letting it get to him. If he was remembering things right then it would be about one full day until Siesta would be 'officially' presented to her new employer. Right now it was still fairly early in the morning so if he could reach the palace of the Count before that evening then he should be able to get everything sorted out before his friend was forced to endure the indignities of Mott's attentions.

"I'm sure that Count Mott is nowhere near as bad as you're making him out to be," Louise said rising to the defence of her countryman, "No doubt he saw how hard a worker Siesta was and realized that she'd make an excellent addition to his staff. This could actually be an opportunity for her."

Huh, that was interesting. Now that he thought about it his small Summoner had been having a fair bit more interaction with the young maid than she would have done in the original timeline. Siesta had been helping them in getting hold of the various materials that they'd been using in their experiments with Louise's magic, also there was the shared camaraderie of them both keeping the secret of Alex's true powers. All in all while the relationship couldn't be called friendship Louise had developed a certain respect for Siesta's work ethic and the maid had in turn come to regard the young Vallière as one of the better Nobles to know.

"Hardly very likely," Kirche scoffed in reply to his Summoner's words, "With the way that you poor Tristains are so repressed it's hardly a surprise that something like this happened. No doubt the poor man has been keeping his passions locked away for years out of fear of what others would say if he let them run free. And then, on a routine task he was struck by the beauty of a commoner maid and all that suppressed desire was unleashed in some uncontrollable torrent. Bespelled by her loveliness he used his influence to spirit her away to his own grounds where he could slake his lusts upon her delicate young flesh."

For a moment the only sound was the twitter of birds and the clop of horses' hooves as the rest of the small party all turned to stare at the sensual redhead. Even Tabitha looked up from her book to direct a dry look at her best friend.

"You know Kirche," Alex commented, breaking the silence, "Have you ever considered writing these ideas of yours down? By the sounds of it you've got plenty of ideas and I'm pretty sure that you'd be able to find a ready market for them if you did."

"Hmmm," the young mage in question tilted her head to the side as she gave the idea some thought, "That might be something to do in those lonely evenings when you're not there to keep me company Darling. I'll have to give it some thought."

"Never mind that!" Louise said as she regained her ability to speak, "Don't go saying such slanderous things about an honoured Count of the Kingdom and a Messenger for the Royal Palace. I'm sure that he's got his reasons for wanting to add Siesta to his staff, reasons that aren't related to anything like . . . that."

"I'm afraid not," Alex said as he urged his horse a bit nearer to hers, "Count Mott has something of a reputation for taking commoners into his employ so he can use them as mistresses. He doesn't force himself on them, if he did then I'd be sharpening my swords rather than bringing this book, but from what I've heard he tends to . . . pressure girls into what he wants. It's relatively gentle pressure, but it's pressure none the less. That's why I want to get Siesta away from him, that's not somewhere she should be."

"I can't believe that it is as you say," Louise said, although a bit of doubt was creeping into her voice. "Tabitha, have you heard such things about Count Mott?"

". . . Lecher . . ."

The small wind mage's quiet one word answer seemed to be all that was needed to silence any further protestations about the nature of the Noble they were going to see. Instead she turned to glare at Kirche once more. Nudging her horse she dropped back so that she could address the well endowed redhead in a low voice.

"Why are you helping Iskander anyway Zerbst? You know that Siesta likes him don't you? Why are you helping him get her back?"

"Ah Vallière, it's because you ask questions like that that I know you're so boring most of the time," Kirche's voice was relaxed and utterly self assured. "What's the fun in seducing Darling if I don't have some competition working against me? Besides I wouldn't feel right with leaving some fresh young commoner country girl to suffer at the lustful hands of some stuffy Tristain Noble."

Ahead of them Alex glanced over his shoulder and wondered what his little Summoner and her arch rival were talking about. Well whatever it was at least they were doing it quietly. That was good; right now he didn't need any more distractions from what he was going to have to do. Hopefully things would go smoothly as his recollections of the anime indicated that they would.


-()-


Count Mott was roused to wakefulness by the sound of someone knocking on his study's door. With a groan he sat up in his chair and blearily glanced about him. Then recollection struck and his eyes widened with panic. He leapt out of his chair so violently that it clattered to the floor on its side as he brandished his staff at the empty room.

"Your lordship? You asked me to inform you as soon as that new maid had finished her orientation, is everything alright?"

Oh, yes, that was Perisan, one of his secretaries. He had asked him to do that, hadn't he?

"E-Everything's fine Perisan. Please call back in a few minutes and I'll let you know what I plan to do."

" . . . Of course your lordship."

As the sound of footsteps faded down the corridor the water mage collapsed back into his chair. It had just been a nightmare, nothing to worry about. Idly he rubbed at his arm where the terrifying woman had stabbed him. Not even a twinge of pain responded from his touch, after all it had just been a dream.

Trying to dismiss the disquieting nightmare from his mind Count Mott turned his mind to the latest addition to his staff. He'd seen her at the academy and had immediately been struck by her. The girl hadn't been some great beauty or alluring seductress, but there had been something fresh and clean about her that he'd found . . . appealing. It hadn't been too hard to arrange her transfer, as a royal messenger he'd managed to build up a fair amount of political capital and favours over the years, more than enough to place a little pressure on the headmaster of the school to accede to his request.

His thoughts of how he'd acquired her as well as his plans for what would come later in their relationship were cut off as a sudden stab of pain shot through his left temple. It wasn't debilitating or unbearable, but it was irritating. That irritation sparked an anger in him, not a great one but an anger none the less. Why was he waiting like this? That girl had been brought here at his will; she was one of his servants, why should he choose to delay himself at all?

Getting up he stalked over to the door. As he did so some part of him noted that it wasn't like him to feel so irritated, but after such a disturbing dream he supposed he did have some reason to feel out of sorts.

It was a shame that he hadn't rolled up his sleeve to check his arm though. Had he done so then he'd have seen the reason why he'd felt no pain when he'd prodded the skin. Beneath the silk of the clothing he wore the skin of his arm was becoming discoloured. Black veins ran from the spot where the woman's strange contraption had stabbed him and a creeping numbness was stealing through his flesh even though he hadn't noticed it yet.


-()-


"Halt, who goes there?"

The call from the guards was the opening that he'd been hoping for. On the way here he'd considered a number of ways to enter the mansion and gain Mott's attention. Given his company the Saito approach of trying to sneak in and then getting caught wasn't a viable option, not only did it put him in a weaker position but he doubted any of the girls would agree to it.

No, sneakiness wasn't an option in this case, so he'd have to go with boldness. Best hope that his B ranked Charisma didn't fail him now.

Bringing his horse forwards from the group Alex did his best to loom over the two guards, a task that proved to be remarkably easy given his considerable height being added to that of the horse.

"YOU!" He barked, pointing at one of the guards and heaping as much imperiousness into his voice as he could manage, "Inform Count Mott that he has visitors immediately."

For a moment both of the guards just stared at him in a sort of stupefaction. Both of them were only lightly armoured and armed with simple spears. All in all they looked like basic foot troops, men used to following orders. If that was the case then he'd simply give them orders to follow.

"W-We have orders not to-" one of the guards said in a slightly quavering tone only to be cut off as the mounted redhead gave a violently dismissive wave of one hand.

"Not to let anyone in without some sort of an invitation or the like. Yes, yes, I'm quite familiar with that kind of thing." Alex was doing his best to project an 'I'm too important for little people like you to even think of standing in my way' air as he nudged his horse to begin moving once more.

"Inform Count Mott that Louise Françoise le Blanc de La Vallière, Kirche Augusta Frederica Von Anhalt Zerbst and Iskander Mest Babylon Est Avalon are here to see him about a most important business proposition. Be sure to inform him that it involves an item that he had been attempting to acquire for some considerable time."

He paused for a second as the two guards simply stared at him and his companions.

"NOW!" he barked, doing his best to imitate a drill sergeant that he'd seen in some film or other.

As though stung by wasps both of the guards jerked in place, looked at each other rather wildly for an instant then the one on the left nodded to the other who took off towards the palace at a full run.

"Pl-Please just wait a moment my lord," the remaining guard stated as he offered a formal bow, "We just need to await confirmation from the palace, as soon as it's received we'll be sure to escort you in with all proper respect."

"See that you do." Alex declared as he wheeled his horse around, taking care to let his mantle billow as he did so, and moving back to rejoin the mages that had accompanied him.

"What was that all about?" Louise asked, though she did keep her voice low so as to ensure that the guard didn't hear her, "And what did you mean by calling yourself 'Est Avalon'?"

"Well, I didn't want to show up as a supplicant trying to trade for Siesta's freedom," Alex explained as he kept his own voice low as well, "Do you know what the most important thing is in a negotiation? Presentation, both of yourself and of your matter. With the right attitude and manner the poorest commoner could convince a Noble to pay handsomely for the meanest batch of crops, and right now I need to convince Mott that I'm not someone to dismiss.

"Technically he holds the stronger position because I almost certainly value Siesta's freedom from his service more than he does this book I've got. I can't let him know that or he'll be the one that can control the situation. My use of your names was so as to add a bit more 'armour' to my impression and hopefully place me in a better position relative to his own."

Alex paused for a moment and offered an apologetic smile to Tabitha.

"Sorry for not including you, but I don't think that adding 'Tabitha' to the list would have helped to overawe the good Count."

In response the small wind mage simply nodded once and spoke a single word.

"Fair."

She really was as quiet and succinct as she'd been depicted in the anime, it was rather endearing in a way.

"And what was that with adding to your name?" Louise asked as her eyes narrowed slightly.

"Well, I felt that compared to yours and Kirche's names mine was a bit on the short side so I decided to add on one of my more traditional titles. It's not really used very often; it simply lets me identify the province that I'm from. Still, it sounded pretty good wouldn't you say?"

Well, actually he was from Somerset, but Avalon sounded better to him so he'd decided to go with it as a harmless indulgence to vanity.

"Ah, so you're just trying to gain the advantage then Darling?" Kirche asked as she leaned forwards in her saddle to idly stroke her horse's mane. Alex couldn't help but notice that the movement afforded him a splendid view of her barely contained bosom. He found himself wondering just how thought out such provocative displays were and just how much of it was simply reflexive flirting.

"Yeah," he nodded as he made sure to meet her gaze and not to let his own eyes wander again, "With any luck it should be enough."

Turning back to face the Mott palace he hoped that everything would go as planned.


-()-


Neilson had served Count Mott as a personal assistant for about seven years now. All things considered his lord wasn't too hard of an employer to serve, his demands were normally realistic and his duties easy to organize. The Mott family owned sizeable estates, nothing too huge but still respectable, that generated more than enough wealth to ensure that they could live in easy luxury. With few financial worries and a fairly simple set of responsibilities as a Royal Messenger the current Mott heir had few concerns and instead devoted the majority of his attention to his interests.

His book collection was one thing, but the women had been another. Neilson supposed that his lord wasn't as bad as some Nobles were rumoured to be, Count Mott had never resorted to force or such things as intoxication or love potions. He also wasn't cruel to his mistresses when he was finished with them, such girls were quietly turned out with a generous final wage and a good reference, certainly more than most girls could expect in similar circumstances.

For his own part Neilson knew that he had been fortunate enough to get his position, as the illegitimate son of a minor Noble he was aware that his prospects hadn't been the best. Even his magic was minimal given that he'd never been able to advance beyond the Dot level. All in all he was both content and grateful for his position and for his employer.

However for the first time in his memory he was feeling fear in regards to his lord.

"So some young upstart in the company of a Vallière and a Zerbst is demanding to see me is he?" The words weren't so much spoken as they were snarled. "Very well then, let us see what this lout wants."

Count Mott was standing in his study and seemed to be staring almost hypnotised at the flickering swirling wine in the crystal wine glass that he held. This in itself was rather unusual, but not enough so to be concerning. It was the Noble's appearance that was of concern to his aid.

Count Mott's skin had a strange and unhealthy mottled look to it; some parts of him seemed to be flushed as though he were feverish whilst other parts of him had gone pale. His eyes were surrounded by dark circles as though he hadn't slept for a few days and the whites of his eyes were horribly bloodshot. His hands were steady though and the glass in his hands remained rock solid, but this only seemed stranger as it contrasted sharply with the seemingly involuntary twitches of his face and shoulders.

However far more than his physical symptoms what was disturbing the younger mage was the Noble's emotional state.

Mott of the Wave was a prideful man as was to be expected of one in his position. He didn't suffer slights to his ego nor allow insults to go unanswered, yet despite that he wasn't an unreasonable man. In the past Neilson had been impressed by his employer's ability to put aside his temper in order to focus on what was important.

Now though it was as though all the suppressed anger of a lifetime was boiling to the surface. In the short time since he'd gone to the study to inform him of the unexpected guests the illegitimate Noble had seen his lord's temper almost visibly worsen.

"Are . . . are you feeling alright your lordship?" He was almost afraid to speak the question, but he was able to force it out.

In response Count Alanby Gentero Mott turned a glare upon his aide that could only be described as 'murderous'.

"And just who do you think you are to question me and my health?!" this time the question really was snarled, a deep animal noise that made Neilson take an involuntary step away from his lord. "You aren't here to question me. You aren't here to get above yourself! YOU ARE HERE TO SHUT UP AND DO WHAT YOU'RE TOLD, DO YOU UNDERSTAND!"

The last words were roared into Neilson's face so loudly that he lost his balance as he backed away from the Count and fell to the ground staring up wide eyed at the enraged Noble now towering over him.

All paleness had now fled from Count Mott's face leaving him with a permanent flush as though he were in the grip of a fever. Blood vessels visibly bulged in his temples, pulsing in time to the beat of his heart in a grotesque manner visible to the naked eye. His chest heaved as though he had just run some sort of race and both his hands were clenched into white knuckled fists.

"I SAID DO YOU UNDERSTAND!"

This time spittle flew through the air as the man that Neilson had served and respected for years practically screamed at him, his face a mask of animalistic fury.

"Y-Yes my lord." It was all he could do to get the words out. Those eyes . . . they glared down at him in a way that he couldn't even describe. They filled his world even as cold terror seized his heart and his limbs began to tremble.

"See that you remember that."

In an almost jarring contrast to his earlier roaring his voice was now little more than a murmur. But the look on his face was still as feral as it had been; the only difference was that rather than anger it now had a more satisfied look to it, a sort of savage gratification.

"Now let's see what these . . . brats want."

Without even a backwards glance at his fallen servant the Noble turned and stalked off down the hall.

Neilson remained where he was, he didn't stand, he didn't even move from his tumbled state. Like some small vulnerable animal his muscles remained locked in place as he desperately tried to avoid doing anything that might have drawn the departing Count's attention back to him.

As soon as Mott disappeared around a corner though the illegitimate mage was on his feet in an instant, without even a backwards glance he began to run to the wing of the palace in which his quarters were. Okay, he could quickly pack a bag with essentials such as clothes and money. Over the years he'd invested some of his savings into the purchase of several rare jewels, valuable ones that were easy to carry. That meant that he'd be able to carry the majority of his wealth, modest though it was, with him. He also had a horse in the stables that was his own, so transport wouldn't be an issue.

Neilson had served Count Mott for years, he'd found the Noble to be a decent enough employer and had given hard service in return. But right now neither gratitude, nor loyalty nor obligation mattered one whit, he'd seen something in the eyes that had glared down at him and right now there was nothing in the world that he wanted more than to get as far away from those eyes as possible.

As he threw the door to his room open and lunged for the saddlebags he kept in his closet he remembered those eyes and shuddered.

In them there had been a promise, a mad, desperate, feral promise.

There would be blood.

With a final shudder of terror the illegitimate mage began to throw thing into his bags. He had to get out before the blood began to flow.


-()-


Count Mott could barely contain his anger as he stalked into the room. The insolence of Neilson, the arrogance of these . . . these intruders, it was all building within him like fuel being piled onto a fire. Still he grimly held onto his control, he was a Noble, a Triangle Class Mage and a Royal Messenger, he mustn't lose his composure in the face of these visiting Nobles, he refused to do so.

There they were, the young fools that dared to come to his home, to his territory, and demand that he see them. Three young girls in the uniform of the Academy and two of them he was able to recognize immediately. The first of them was a petite girl that had the distinctive pink hair of the Vallière Duchess, Karin the Heavy Wind, so there was no doubt as to her identity. The tall and tanned beauty was the girl that had been pointed out to him at the academy as the most recent heir to the Zerbst family. The last girl was a tiny thing with blue hair that didn't even bother to look up from her book as he entered the room. He didn't recognize her so she was probably some unimportant hanger on.

Still, her lack of regard galled him. That she would simply dismiss his presence as so unimportant that she didn't even pause in her reading. For a brief instant he entertained himself with the notion of taking her book from her and ramming it into her face repeatedly until her features were a bloody ruin and the book's paper was stained red.

He was brought out of his pleasant daydream as he saw the last member of the group. He was a young man of clearly foreign origins given his strange garb and his non-Tristain features. He was a large man, standing almost a head taller than Mott himself, and had a broad and muscled frame to match his height. There was also an aura about him, a feeling of . . . dominance? Authority? The Water Mage couldn't quite put his mental finger on it, but whatever it was it was compelling.

He immediately realized that he hated this young man.

It was a reaction without any sort of reason or sense, one that came from the deepest and most animalistic parts of his nature. This young man was a threat to his dominance; he was a rival, one that couldn't be ignored. It was taking all the control that Mott could muster not to yank his staff from its place at his belt and immediately try to shoot the newcomer through with a barrage of ice arrows.

No, he couldn't give in to his anger. The daughters of two powerful families, one foreign and one native, were watching him at this very minute. He couldn't allow them to see him abandon himself to his violent whims.

"What do you want?"

As he forced the question out from between gritted teeth he saw the eyes of all his 'guests' widen as they looked at him. He took some satisfaction in their surprise; no doubt they had been expecting someone less in possession of themselves, someone weaker, someone more pliable. How it must surprise them to see him as he really was.

In all truth he was slightly grateful for whatever was happening, certainly his temper might be flaring up more than usual, but despite that Mott felt more alive, more awake than he ever had in his life. It was as though he were full of energy, full of drive. Just let them try to manipulate him, just let them try to control or intimidate him; he'd sweep their efforts aside like so much chaff before a hurricane.

"Count Mott . . . are you feeling al-" One of the girl, the Vallière, asked hesitantly only to be cut off as he made a slashing gesture with his right arm.

"I am perfectly well, there's no need to be worried about that. Now tell me, why have you come here and what is this business that you've got with me that is so urgent?"

As he spoke Count Mott stalked over to his usual chair and leaned against it. He wouldn't sit down, not in the overbearing presence of this large young man. He would not make himself smaller by the act. Jealousy and anger beat a dual drumbeat in his heart as he only barely kept himself from openly glaring at this Iskander Mest Babylon Est Avalon.

"I am here in regards to a maid that you've recently had transferred to your service." The red haired man said, his voice measured but courteous.

By all the infernal realms, even the bastard's mere voice was compelling. Ugly emotions twisted about within him once more as jealousy once more gained ascendancy over its rivals. Then the meaning of those spoken words registered.

He was here about the girl? Why? How did he know her? Had he come to take her? Had he come to steal her? How dare he, how dare he? She was his, his and no-one else's. If this overgrown brat thought that Count Alanby Gentero Mott would meekly relinquish his property without a fight then he was wrong. He'd tear him apart; he'd rip the very water from his veins and coat the walls with his blood. He'd . . .

The Noble known as the Wave took a deep breath as he once more forced his growing rage back under control. This Iskander was in the presence of three students from the Academy, the same place that the maid he was enquiring after had worked. Perhaps the girl had been some sort of friend or confidant to these young Nobles? It wasn't unknown for the young to engage in such relationships before they fully came to understand how separate the magic blessed were from the commoners. One could treat them kindly, even feel a certain affection for them, but ultimately friendship was something that existed between equals, and a commoner could never be the equal of a Noble.

But if that was the case then where did this hulking young man come into it, and just who was he? His bearing and confidence said that he was a Noble, but his raiment and features hinted at him being a foreigner. He hadn't heard anything from the Palace about a foreign Noble being involved with the Academy though, and that was the kind of thing that would stir up all sorts of gossip. Had he been deliberately excluded? Were secrets being kept form him? And if so then by who and why? Could it be that someone was moving against him? Were there those that were working to bring him down?

"Siesta has been of great service to both myself and Lady Vallière here and we were sorely troubled to learn that she'd been transferred to another location."

Iskander's further words broke into his thoughts once more. So he was here for the girl, he wanted to take what was Mott's from him. A growl of anger built in his throat, but before it could be voiced the red haired foreigner's next words cut it off.

"Of course we aren't expecting you to give up such a diligent worker without some compensation."

Greed pushed jealousy aside as the Count wondered what might be being offered in the place of his potential mistress.

"I believe there is a book that the Zerbst family has that you have long wished to add to your own collection. By happy fortune that same book has recently been passed into my possession and I'd be more than happy to pass its ownership to yourself so long as we can come to an agreeable arrangement."

He had that book, the legendary Summoned Book that contained images of beauty that not even the finest painter or inker could ever match? Lust and greed had now formed an alliance in his heart to hold off the competition and keep his eyes fixed firmly on the prize.

Glancing over at one of the guards that were waiting by the door he delivered a peremptory command.

"Go and fetch the new maid, tell her that she needs to be here immediately."

As the guard bowed and left Mott turned back to the foreigner. Deep within his heart anger still burned, but its fires were now banked by his desire to acquire the book he had sought after since having heard of it. Those flames still burned though, and needed only to be fanned a little in order to rage one more.


-()-


All in all things seemed to be going better than he'd thought they would. The problem with that was that it only made Alex think that there was something he didn't know about sneaking up on him.

When he'd first seen the Count the young Gandálfr had been shocked. The man looked as though he was about to keel over he looked so feverish, yet despite that there was some sort of frantic energy to him. It was a twitching crazy energy, yet it seemed to be enough to get him up and moving despite his terrible state.

Was this somehow his fault? Had he somehow altered events so that this Noble had become ill? But that made no sense, what could he have done that could have had this kind of effect?

Unless . . . unless this was an example of the Butterfly Effect. Could it be that? He was a physically larger person than Saito and he'd been doing all sorts of things that the original main character hadn't. Could that be the cause, was it something as simple as him having moved in a way that Saito hadn't and that had set off some sort of air current? After all if a butterfly could flap its wings and start a hurricane as a result then wasn't it within the realms of possibility that a 97 kilogram human could move in a certain way and as a result a breeze would change and a Noble would get sick where he otherwise wouldn't?

If that was so then could any of his future knowledge be trusted? This could well be the reason that Fouquet hadn't made her move as he had been expecting, due to his own presence having altered events in some subtle manner. This was so frustrating, if all truth be told he didn't fully subscribe to the Butterfly Theory, but that seemed to be the only explanation available to him at the moment.

The sound of the door opening led to him dismissing that train of thought as something to be considered later.

As soon as Siesta came through the door Alex found himself in the grip of two emotions. On the one hand he was relieved to see her, but on the other hand he found himself disgusted by how she was dressed. In a way he was aware that his outrage was illogical, Kirche dressed more scandalously just for going to class and in the books and anime Siesta had voluntarily worn such things as an even briefer version of the maid's uniform and even a naked apron. In comparison the uniform she was wearing now wasn't anything too special, sure it showed off her legs and gave a hint at her generous bosom, yet despite all that he felt a surge of disgust and anger at seeing her in it.

He supposed that at the end of the day it was the fact that she wasn't wearing it out of her own choice but rather because she was being forced to that angered him. Siesta . . . she deserved better than this. She was a good person, hard working, helpful, cheerful and pleasant, to see her being forced like this on the whim of some Noble simply because he had the power . . .

Alex was honestly surprised at the surge of anger he felt. In the past few days he'd had to tamp down on his irritation at the class differences that he'd seen about the Academy several times, but this time there was a very certain difference. This time it wasn't irritation, it was anger.

He was going to have to give that some thought later as well. If he didn't learn some way to control his dislike of the Noble/Commoner class system before he had the power to influence it legitimately then he was going to inevitably find himself in trouble.

"Ah . . . Siesta. I'm pleased to see you."

That made his head whip round to stare at the Count. Ever since this situation had begun his treacherous memory had begun to supply him with more and more information that would have been much more useful if he'd remembered it earlier. Alex had watched both the subbed and the dubbed versions of the Familiar of Zero anime and he remembered what both the voice actors had sounded like, and it had never sounded that . . . that oily. The words practically dripped lust and covetousness.

For her part Siesta looked surprised to see the three students and the one Summon. That surprise quickly became a sort of happy relief and was then in turn replaced by worry and fear. Her eyes flicked from Alex to the girls to Count Mott and then back to Alex. The Noble must have seen it as well because the look of greasy lust on his face was replaced by one of growing anger.

"Siesta, this young man has asked that you be transferred back to serving at the Academy; you will be leaving with him immediately." The words were harsh and clipped, but despite that the young woman's eyes opened wide with surprise even as she gazed at Alex in wonder.

"Now, give me the book, Avalon."

With a nod of his head the pseudo Servant stood up and pulled the old porn magazine in its leather sleeve out from under his mantle. As he handed it over Count Mott snatched it from his hands with almost violent haste.

"Yes, yesss," he muttered to himself as he opened the book and gazed at the contents. "It's just as I had heard."

"I'm glad to see that you like it," Alex said, a bit put off by the almost lustful way that the Noble was holding the book. Mentally he decided that if Mott started to call it his 'Precioussss' then he was going to grab the girls, summon his chariot and get the heck out of dodge and to blazes with keeping his abilities concealed. "I'll be leaving with my friends so that you can enjoy it in private."

Inclining his head in a gesture of politeness Alex turned and gestured for the other girls to follow him, in short order the three Mages, him and Siesta were all out of the study and in the hall.

"Iskander." Siesta's voice was dazed and wondering, as though she were overjoyed with what had happened but couldn't quite bring herself to believe it. "How . . . why . . . what are you doing here?"

Alex smiled, well, more like grinned, at her.

"I'll have you know that I've really come to like your chicken stew, did you think I'd let it get taken away from me that easily?"

Siesta blinked at that, her expression fading into bemusement.

"Heh," He couldn't help but chuckle at the look on her face, "Just kidding. Did you really think I'd just let that guy steal you away did you? And especially when it was clear you didn't want to go? Now come on, let's get your things so we can get out of here."

"Iskander . . ."

Alex might have the speed and reflexes of a being that surpassed human limits, but even so he could still be surprised, and the young girl suddenly throwing her arms around his torso and pressing her face into his leather armoured chest came as quite unexpected. For a moment he simply stood there paralysed by surprise at the sudden turn of events.

"Oh ho, how cunning," Kirche's voice came from somewhere behind him and sounded somewhat admiring rather than irritated. "Taking advantage of the situation like that. I'll need to watch out for her around Darling."

The pseudo Servant was still trying to work out what to do next when the door behind them suddenly exploded into a hail of splitters and a torrent of water.


-()-


As soon as the red haired man and his companions had left the room Count Mott had sat himself down in his favourite chair and begun to turn the pages of his new acquisition.

He'd been amazed by what he saw, granted he couldn't read the strange words of the text but that hardly mattered when one took the pictures into account. Such colour, such accuracy, whichever artist had done this was clearly a Noble using some advance style. It was of such marvellous skill that he couldn't even see any brush strokes. And what those pictures depicted, women in such states as to boil a man's blood. Men and women engaged in acts of depravity he'd only ever dreamed of. Even one woman lifting another woman's leg so she could-

Yet despite the veritable feast arrayed for his eyes and imagination Mott the Wave couldn't seem to bring his full focus to bear upon it. Instead his mind kept on coming back to the instant when that maid had seen Iskander. The way her face had lit up, the way her eyes had shone . . .

They'd never done that when she'd seen him. When she'd been brought here she'd shown no joy. When she'd been introduced to him her eyes hadn't shone like that. And why had this Iskander been so happy to trade the Summoned Book for her? This wondrous tome was surely worth more than that maid, so then why had he given it up so easily? Could there be more to that girl than he'd known? Was there something about her, something he didn't know, that made her so valuable? Could it be that she was his lover? No that couldn't be it, for all his strangeness that young man's presence had been too strong and regal for him to be a mere Commoner. So then why?

Was there something else? Some secret that she knew or some skill that she possessed? Something that gave her a value he couldn't see?

A thought crossed his mind and his blood suddenly went cold.

Had he been tricked? Had he been so eager to gain possession of this book that he'd allowed something even more valuable to slip through his fingers?

Rage began to rise up in him as that thought grew in his mind like some black weed.

He had been tricked, gulled, beguiled like some witless Commoner at a country fair. Something had been taken from him, something valuable. It had been stolen from him, taken by an overgrown brat that had deceived him.

His vision was turning red now as he started from his chair. His staff was in his hand and with it he gestured savagely at the barrel of water he kept in his study in case he ever had to protect himself. Magic flowed from his body into the staff and out again, magic that reached out to the water and bent it to his will. At the water erupted from the casket and curled in the air like a thing alive some small part of Mott's consciousness noted idly that this seemed to be far easier than it should have been, that the water seemed to respond to his will more readily than he remembered it ever doing before. However the larger part of him didn't care, all that was important was to make his enemy pay.

With his water coiling about him he stalked towards the door ready to unleash all his fury at the fraudster that dared to cross him. However as he reached it he managed to regain some shred of control, he knew he couldn't simply lash out at this Iskander, he needed a reason, a provocation, something he could use to explain his behaviour.

With white knuckled hands he gently opened the door a fraction and peered out through the gap. Perhaps if he was careful he could catch him saying something that would give him away. Maybe he'd be talking to those students that were with him and reveal-

Siesta was embracing him

Siesta was embracing him!

That tiny shred of his control vanished like a snowflake in a smith's forge. She was embracing him, her face flushed with gratitude and adoration. She'd never shown him such a face. She'd never directed such a face at him. Why? Why had she not? She was his, his to hold, his to use, his to discard. She shouldn't give such a face to any other; she should not even so much as look at any other.

She was his and this brat had stolen her from him.

His own roar of rage was swallowed up by the sound of his water smashing through the door.


-()-


As the miniature tidal wave came crashing down on him Alex had barely enough time to hurriedly throw a surprised Siesta towards the other girls and out of danger before the mass of water hit him hard enough to knock him off his feet and send him smashing through the main doors of the palace.

He felt no pain as the water hit him, and he didn't seem injured by the fact that he'd struck a pair of pretty solid wooden doors with enough force to tear them off their hinges. A rank Endurance and C rank Magic Resistance, it looked as though a combo of the two had been enough to save him from serious harm this time but it might not be up to it if he got hit again.

"Iskander!"

"Darling!"

Both Louise and Kirche shouted at the same time, but their cries were overshadowed by the sound of roaring water as the same liquid that had struck him began to move. Alex had known about the existence of water magic, but since his arrival in this strange new world he hadn't had a chance to witness it. Certainly Guiche's earth magic and Kirche's fire magic had been interesting spectacles to see, but compared to what he was now witnessing those displays seemed to be almost childlike.

The water that had splashed all over the entrance hall and the outer courtyard was gathering itself together. Not only that, it seemed to be growing, as though the amount of liquid making up its volume was multiplying as it was drawn together. As it accumulated the water seemed to mass up upon itself until a huge hump of the clear liquid more than six feet high 'stood' before the new Gandálfr.

"Heh, that's pretty impressive spell work. I'd say that's high Triangle level, maybe even Square class." The sound of Derflinger's metallic voice came from Alex's waist even as a thick tendril of water lashed out from the mass before him.

"Now's not the time for idle comments." Alex grunted as he braced himself and shielded his face with his forearms.

The liquid limb struck him and there was such force behind it that had he not set himself he was sure it would have bowled him over. To either side of him the stone paving that made up the ground of the courtyard splintered and cracked as though it had been struck by a sledgehammer. However against his form it felt more as though someone had turned a particularly powerful garden hose on him. The force of the water was enough to bruise him and if it struck him in such weak points as his eyes or throat it might be dangerous, but as long as he was braced and prepared it wasn't too much of a threat.

"YOOUUU!"

The almost inarticulate howl of rage sounded out above the roar of the water and drew Alex's attention. Mott was standing at the top of the stairs leading to his palace's main entrance glaring down at the red clad form of the pseudo Servant. All around him water streams were whipping through the air in a crazy dance.

"What's the meaning of this Count Mott?!" Alex's own shouted demand might not have been as loud as Mott's bellow but it did at least have the virtue of sounding rational.

"I'LL KILL YOU!" The clearly deranged Noble bellowed as he gestured with his staff and sent more jets of water to hammer at his target, "I'LL KILL YOU!"

"Alright," the young Gandálfr muttered under his breath as he shielded his face with one forearm while his other hand reached for a sword, "Somehow I don't think we'll be able to work this out like civilized people. I guess that just leaves the other way."

Again and again the blasts of water struck him, yet Alex was able to stand firm. He could feel his skin begin to grow sore from the blows, but given that the ground around him looked as though it had been subjected to an attack by an out of control piledriver he guessed that was okay. It looked as though his Magic Resistance was able to dispel the vast majority of the spells power before it could seriously harm him. As long as he kept his balance then it was just like forcing his way towards someone that had turned a hose on him, it could only get him wet, not hurt him. He just had to keep that in mind. This kind of attack he could handle, all he had to do was get close enough to the mage to grapple and the fight would be his.

For a brief moment he considered closing with Mott at full speed while dodging the water attacks, but then he dismissed the idea. While he certainly had the speed to do it if he got hit by another blast while he was off balance he'd end up being knocked over again and then he'd be back to step one. Best to go with a slow and steady advance given that while Mott could inconvenience him he couldn't really hurt him.

At least not yet anyway, it was when Mott started to get a bit more creative that things were going to start to get tricky.


-()-


Tabitha stood by the slumped forms of Kirche and Louise and made sure that her Windy Barrier was ready to be raised at a moment's notice.

Both the girls had been understandably outraged by Count Mott's sudden unprovoked attack and had tried to demand an explanation. Well Louise had anyway; Kirche had decided to forgo indignant ire and had simply tried to go straight to blasting him with a fireball.

However much to Tabitha's surprise Mott hadn't stopped to justify himself but had instead simply lashed out at both girls with limbs of water. What surprised and worried the young wind mage was the ease with which the attack had slammed through Kirche's fireball and struck her and Louise. Tabitha had managed to get a barrier up for them at the last second, that was why they were simply unconscious rather than suffering from broken bones, but it had been a frighteningly near thing.

This didn't make sense, as an agent of Gallia she'd made it a point to know the identities of as many of the Square class mages in the country of Tristain as she could manage. Count Mott hadn't been among that number and according to her information was regarded as a slightly below average Triangle class. Yet that didn't make sense, as Tabitha was well aware Kirche was quite a strong Triangle class fire mage. It made no sense that he could so easily overcome even a hasty spell on her part.

Still . . . this was a valuable opportunity that had presented itself. Ever since Iskander had appeared as Louise's Familiar the young mage known as the Snow Storm had found herself on edge around him, even though he'd never made any sort of overt move against her. She knew he was dangerous, his total victory over Guiche in their duel had shown that he wasn't without a measure of power, but even though he seemed like a decent person and was even friendly with her Familiar there was something about him that put her on edge.

It was nothing rational or quantifiable; it was a simple intuition that told her the large man was powerful, far more so that he'd yet demonstrated. She listened to her intuition, she listened to her instincts, they along with her natural talent and diligent research that had allowed her to survive and succeed in all the tasks that her Uncle had set upon her in an attempt to kill her.

With the current situation she was almost ideally placed to see how Iskander would handle this surprisingly powerful foe. Both Louise and Kirche were in no condition to interfere and since she had to guard them Tabitha had a perfectly valid reason for not intervening herself. She knew it was a rather cold blooded decision, but it had been such choices in the past that had saved her and allowed her to keep her mother safe.

"Can't you help him?!"

The plea of the maid that Louise's Familiar had come to liberate brought her out of her thoughts. The young woman had tended to the two unconscious mages as best as she could, but now that they were comfortable and at least slightly drier her eyes had turned to look after where Iskander had been hurled.

In response Tabitha simply held up her staff in a defensive pose and spoke a single word while nodding at the two insensate Academy students.

"Guarding."

That seemed to explain it all to the maid as she nodded her head once in understanding and then turned all her attention to the scene taking place in the courtyard outside. Given the entrance hall's doors gaping open as well as the large windows the pair of them had an excellent view of the unfolding confrontation.


-()-


"DIE! DIE DIE DIEEEE!"

With each screamed word Count Mott swung his staff and unleashed another blast of water upon the slowly advancing Alex.

Though the battle had only been going on for barely a minute the new Gandálfr still felt as though he'd just been beaten up by some particularly vicious individuals that were only armed with foam weapons. Each individual blow was negligible, but despite that they quickly mounted up.

His Magic Resistance seemed to be robbing the blasts of water of much of their strength as they struck him, but even so there was still plenty of kinetic energy left in them. A class Endurance wasn't the same as invulnerability, but it looked as though it would be more than enough. All he had to do was get close enough to break his staff and the Mage would be rendered harmless. And harmless was best in these circumstances given that Mott was someone with connections to the royal palace. If something permanent happened to him then the repercussions could be . . . inconvenient. Far better to endure this assault so that he could take him down as softly as possible.

Step by step he was advancing on the maddened Noble who had unwittingly backed himself up against one of his palace's walls as he tried to get a better angle of attack.

"You know, this really isn't how I was expecting you to fight him Partner," Derflinger commented from his waist. "And don't think I haven't noticed that you drew that other sword first instead of me, we'll be having words about that later."

Had the situation not been so serious Alex might well have laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of the sword's words. Unfortunately it seemed that right at that second he'd gotten close enough to Mott that the mage grasped that he might be in danger. With an inarticulate yell of rage he stabbed in his enemy's direction with his staff in a single savage motion. In response a single huge jet of water shot out, not a thin serpentine one like the previous shots, this one was almost as thick as a tree and thundered forwards like a battering ram.

"Damn it!" Alex cursed as he threw himself sideways.

That attack had simply been too big to take, even with Magic Resistance being hit by that much water would have sent him flying superhuman strength and endurance or not. It was a simple matter of physics and weight, no matter how he set himself getting hit by that much mass would certainly bowl him over even if it couldn't seriously hurt him.

Still even if his Agility was only D rank it was still far above humanity's normal limits, consequently Alex was able to dodge to the side in time to let the huge ram of water shoot past him. Unfortunately that left him off balance, and Mott wasn't giving him time to recover.

Once again the smaller shots of water came at him, faster this time. But now the problem was that he didn't have the time to set himself properly. He was able to shield his face, but without the opportunity to properly brace himself each blast left him off balance and unable to properly prepare himself for the next one.

Damn it, he might have the speed and the reflexes but the simple fact was that Alex didn't know how to use them to their best effect. If he didn't shape up soon then-

"DIE DAMN YOU!"

The shriek of rage was accompanied by another blast of water, this one far stronger than the ones before it. With his footing unsteady and his balance off Alex was unable to keep himself from being knocked off his feet. As his back hit the paved ground of the courtyard the new Gandálfr felt the wind being knocked from his lungs.

Damn it all, he couldn't let this be it. All he needed was a second or two to get back on his feet . . .

Unfortunately it turned out that he didn't have those couple of seconds available. With an almost unholy cry of rage and glee Mott darted forwards and swung his staff in three arcs as though it were a sword. In response three huge jets of water shot into the air, then came arcing around in gravity defying curves as they converged upon Alex's downed form.

The red haired pseudo Servant barely had enough time to utter a curse as the mass of liquid came down on him with punishing force. The three arcs of water had been cunningly aimed, on his back as he was he could only dodge left or right by rolling, any other direction being far harder to move in, but the attacks were aimed so that any attempt to dodge one would leave him in the path of the other two. In the end all he could do as the water came down on him was to once more shield his face and brace himself as best he could.

This time even Magic Resistance wasn't enough to shield him from the full impact of the attack. In his mind's eye he could recall the description of his Magic Resistance; Cancels spells with a chant of below two verses. Well Mott hadn't used any chants but then the systems of magic involved were radically different. As he doubled over in pain from the hammer blow to his middle a detached portion of Alex's mind idly noted that this probably meant that spells of this level counted as being of more than two chant level.

However the assault wasn't over. Even as he tried to gasp in the air that had been smashed out of him Louise's Summon suddenly found the water whipping up at his face like a live snake. He tried to block it with an upraised arm, but the arrow of water just flowed around it and leapt at his face. The jet of water caught him full in the mouth, but lacked the powerful pressure of the earlier shots. For a moment Alex thought that perhaps Mott was losing strength, then his eyes widened in realization and sudden panic.

The water wasn't falling away after it had struck him; instead it was flowing over him, clinging to him as though he had his own personal gravity. Even worse as more and more water flowed together he could feel it start to grip him, at first the pressure was light but it swiftly grew until Alex felt as though some huge hand were grasping him whole. He had enough time for a single vile curse before the water closed over his head and finished engulfing him.

The pseudo Servant tried to rise, to fight his way to his feet, but it was like trying to force his way through the roiling waters of the sea in the midst of a hurricane. The liquid closed in around him restricting his movements and tightening its grip, yet at the same time it was moving in a sort of internal flow. It gave him no leverage to use, no chance to gain his purchase, it moved with him as he tried to regain his footing then the strange internal flow would hurl itself against him to throw him off whatever balance he might have gained. This wasn't a contest of strength, not in this; it was a question of leverage and restraint, as long as one was denied the other could not be overcome.

And he couldn't breath, that was the worst part. The air was right there in front of him separated by only a few inches of water, yet no matter what he did the water moved with him as he tried to lunge for the air. Not only that, it also seemed to grip at his limbs and slow his movements as though he were fighting his way through thickening amber. That resistance, that viscousness, was just enough to slow his movements to the point of uselessness. When he moved the water moved as well. And all the time he could feel the pressure in his chest starting to grow as his lungs consumed the oxygen in the breath that he was holding. He tried to strain against it, to pull an arm or a leg free, but rather than resisting him it instead yielded just enough to make his efforts near meaningless. In time he would be able to fight free, there was absolutely no chance that this spell could hold him for long, the problem was that by the time he was free he'd probably have drowned.

"This is a pretty impressive Water Prison; still I don't think I've ever seen one so strong before. That crazy Noble must be quite the prodigy to have pulled something like this off. It might even be at the upper end of the Square Class. Still, it looks like it's costing him a lot to keep it so strong"

It was almost interesting how the same water that was choking the life out of him could also provide such an effective medium for Derflinger's words to reach his ears. The talking sword didn't sound in the least perturbed, in fact he might as well have been commenting on the weather for all the inflection that he was using. Through the water he could also see Mott; the Noble was still standing a fair distance off and pointing his staff at his fallen foe. A small part of his mind noted that the hands holding the staff were visibly trembling and that blood was starting to flow from the Count's nose. However the majority of his mind was more focused on his lack of air.

"You know Partner; if you don't get out of here soon then it'll be the end for you."

Did the wretched weapon think he didn't know that? Already he could see dark spots starting to creep into his vision. His chest was bursting now as though the breath he was holding was trying to force its way out of his throat in a bid for freedom. Was this it? Was this where he was going to die?

Hell No, he refused to accept it. He wasn't going to die like this, not in such a stupid way. If he was going down then he was going down fighting.

His free hand closed around Derflinger's hilt drawing him forth even as the tar like water tried to keep him from doing so. He wasn't far from the mage, only a few more steps, he just had to make it.

Anger and determination flooded through his. He had a goal in mind now, no half formed desire to just get to Count Mott and somehow restrain him; he was going to win even if he had to cut the Noble in two.

The runes on the back of his left hand lit up.

Strength and power flooded through him.


-()-


Tabitha had been a bit worried when she'd seen Iskander caught in the Water Prison.

Up until then the fight had been largely in the favour of the strange Familiar of her classmate. She'd watched with interest as spells that could pulverize rock splashed off Iskander as though they were mere cups of water hurled by angry Commoners. That had surprised her, she knew that as a human Familiar he had to have some sort of power, but at the same time she hadn't expected such a strange ability to resist magic.

Still as fascinating as that had been she'd found the main focus of her attention to be Count Mott rather than the young man her best friend was so bent upon pursuing.

His strength of spells was definitely not natural. Given that water was one of the elements that she was herself quite proficient in she was able to recognize most of the attacks that he was using and was also able to note some inconsistencies.

Count Mott was definitely showing the power and ability of a Square Class mage, and a powerful one at that. That water battering ram was something that she herself could have pulled off as a Triangle Mage, but she couldn't have managed it with the same level of speed or ease. Yet despite having the power of such a level the Tristain Noble didn't seem to be using any of the subtler and more deadly spells that being at such a level would make available to him.

Though Water Mages were not regarded as the most combat oriented of the elements they were still held in a certain degree of fearful awe due to the inventively gruesome ways a strong enough user could employ the element's healing aspects as a weapon. The very blood in a victim's veins could putrefy and rot, or be summoned out of a wound and leave the victim a desiccated husk. The use of such spells was only a step or two from being flat out forbidden, but they were the kinds of things that a Square Class Water Mage could work out to do with only a little practice and motivation.

So why wasn't Mott using them on Iskander? He was certainly angry enough to do so given that he was clearly trying to murder the young man rather than simply beat him down. But instead of employing those deadly options all the Count was doing was flailing away with overpowered versions of the kinds of spells that most Line Class could have managed. Certainly the enhanced Water Prison that he had created was impressive in both its size and strength, but it was still a hugely overpowered version of a basic spell.

Something wasn't adding up as it should, but Tabitha couldn't put her mental finger on it.

"No!" the gasped word was filled with horror as Siesta looked out of the window to see Iskander now completely submerged in the huge Water Prison that Mott had gathered about him.

Tabitha could see why the maid was so scared. Within the mass of water the large red haired young man was clearly doing his best to break free but it was painfully obvious that for all his strength he couldn't break free. Mott was now glaring down at his trapped enemy with a look of wild eyed glee, the smile of triumph on his face every bit as crazed as his eyes.

"Help him, please."

The young Commoner maid turned to look at the blue haired Academy student with a look of desperate imploring on her face.

For a moment Tabitha was caught between her choices. On the one hand she could attack the Noble; Mott clearly wasn't in his right mind so she was sure that she wouldn't find herself in any trouble because of it. The problem with that was that it would be against her orders from her uncle if she were to take on one of the more powerful members of the Tristain Nobility, and she was well aware of what it could mean for her to go against those orders.

Quite suddenly though the choice was taken out of her hands. Somehow Iskander had managed to regain his feet, all about him the waters of his captivity were a boiling mass of foam as it clearly trying to pull him down. Currents swept around him, but he'd found his purchase now and was able to ignore them as though they were the winds of a storm. In each hand he held a sword, one was the one he had always possessed and the other was the one Louise had gotten him.

The human Familiar swung both swords down in two savage strokes . . . and the Water Prison broke apart and collapsed to the ground about him.

Tabitha had no idea what had happened. That hadn't been a spell, of that she was certain. Among the tasks set to her by her Uncle in an attempt to get rid of her had been a number of assignments to apprehend rogue Nobles. During her hunts and encounters Tabitha had forced herself to learn how to recognize the hints that accompanied a spell being prepared. It was a clumsy and inexact skill, but it had still saved her life on several occasions. It was this skill that made her absolutely certain that Iskander hadn't used a spell, but if that wasn't it then what was?

Behind her she heard the dull moan of one of the unconscious Mages starting to return to the land of the living, but she didn't turn to see who it was. The entirety of her attention was focused on the renewed battle taking place outside.


-()-


As soon as he had grasped Derflinger, at the same instant that he'd made his resolve, he felt the same surge that he'd first experienced when he'd fought Guiche's bronze golems.

Renewed strength flooded through him and the darkness that had previously been edging into his vision retreated. He could feel the effects of the runes now boosting both his strength and agility. More than that though, he could feel the panic that had been welling up in him retreat as well. He didn't recall anything about that in Familiar of Zero, but right now he wasn't going to question his good fortune.

He could feel the currents now, without panic blinding him and with the renewed vigour of the Mark of the Gandálfr he could react to them. The water still fought him, both swirling to unbalance him and clinging to him in an attempt to slow him, but now it wasn't enough. Now he found he could react in time to the changes in current, could compensate for the attempts to throw him off.

With almost painful slowness he managed to get his feet under him and braced against the shattered paving beneath him. He needed to shift his weight almost constantly as the water fought against him. In a strange way it was almost like a dance, him trying to stay one step ahead of the water's efforts. It was a hectic, crazy clash, but it was only one that he needed to win for a short time.

Finally having a good stance to brace himself, he brought both of his swords down with all his strength. The Water that held him seemed to stretch as it tried to maintain its grip upon him, then, like cloth before his blade, it . . . tore. That was the only way he could think of to describe it, there had been the sensation of the water trying to hold him back, then something had just given way and the cocoon of water that had enveloped him fell to the ground as though gravity had suddenly reclaimed its hold upon it.

"Oh yeah, now that's what I'm talking about Partner," Derflinger's pleased words sounded out across the courtyard as it was held in Alex's grip, "About time you started to use your powers properly, I was starting to think you'd forgotten about them. Still, that's the first time I've seen someone rip out of a spell through sheer strength, that's impressive."

The sentient blade spoke the last words with almost palpable glee in its tone.

"You . . . you . . ." Mott's speech was heavy and laboured, not as though he were tired but rather as though whatever he was trying to say was catching in his throat.

With another inarticulate scream he thrust his staff at Alex once more, the movement punctuated by pure savage intent. In response the water that had been scattered by the pseudo Servant's earlier swing coalesced into thick steams of water and once more lashed out as they had before.

However this time things were different, rather than bracing himself to take the blows Alex instead dashed forwards closing the distance with the Noble even as he somehow dodged each and every shot of the water blasts aimed at him. The earlier battering ram of water had hurled him all the way across the courtyard, yet despite the distance separating them the towering red haired young man was able to close the distance in the space of barely more than a single breath.

As he moved the dimensionally displaced man could hardly believe what he was experiencing. Intellectually he'd been aware that the B rank Agility was a powerful asset, after all in the Fate route Rider had been limited to that level due to Shinji being her Master and yet she'd still been able to move incredibly fast. Right now he was at the same level in pure stats, if not skill, and it was like entering a different world. All around him everything seemed to slow down, he could see the jets of water coming at him, see the path they would take. His body responded to his will as never before and even as he took another step forward he was already tilting to the side to avoid one attack directed at his shoulder even as he crouched slightly to avoid another aimed at his face.

He didn't think he was quite as fast as Medusa had been in the fifth Holy Grail war, his own limits in experience and finesse ensured that. Still it seemed he was more than able to slip through the clumsy attack that had been directed against him; certainly it was enough to get near Mott. That was his plan this time, get in close and end it fast, no more tanking, no more taking chances.

He was close now, close enough that he could swing his swords and strike. For a moment in time the world seemed to freeze around him as for the first time in his life Alex realized he was in a position to end the life of another. It wouldn't be hard, all he had to do was aim just so and use enough strength, if he did Count Mott would be sheared in half in a single stroke. His life would end and so would his threat, but . . . but did Alex want to kill him?

Well, no, that was an easy answer. The new Gandálfr liked to think of himself as a rational man, and to so casually decide to effectively murder someone was not a rational choice. To kill, to end a life, that was a huge thing, something that needed to be carefully chosen not simply selected on a whim.

The frozen instant ended as he made his choice, not today, he would not take his first life today. He knew that later in the timeline he would find himself embroiled in a war and that when he did he might need to make that step, but right now he wasn't in that situation yet and he didn't need to go to such extremes. His stroke came down aimed not at the Count himself but at his staff instead.

The blow came faster than anything a human could manage and was backed by strength enough to carve through solid stone. Yet despite that it was blocked as a shield of ice suddenly sprang up to protect the Water Mage and his tool from Alex's attack. The frozen shield shattered under the force of the blow, but it delayed Alex for a split second long enough for Mott to scramble away and wave his staff at the pseudo Servant once more.

"Gggrhh . . . ggghhrhrh . . . GGGHHHAAAHH!"

More sheets of ice materialized about him, all of them thin and with sharpened edges like huge glass shards. Down they came like some mad recreation of the guillotines used in the madness that the French Revolution had become. Yet even as they descended upon him Alex wasn't idle. Both the swords he held lashed out as the Mark of the Familiar branded onto his left hand supplied him with the skill to use the two weapons. Every one of the huge ice sheets that tried to bisect him was shattered as soon as it entered his reach. Shards of ice the size of wood chips rained down about him only to melt back into water and flow back towards Mott. Though the assault lasted only for a few seconds the amount of noise and damage was tremendous as the paving around the pseudo Servant was torn into gravel by the attacks that had missed him.

Still the ferocity of the attack had done its work; though his defence had remained impenetrable Alex had none the less been driven back until once more a fair distance separated him from his foe.

His foe . . .

Alex stared at Count Mott with growing horror as for the first time since this battle began he took a good look at the Noble that seemed to be bent on killing him. Mott's face was crimson to the point where it looked as though he might be ready to suffer a stroke or a heart attack. Thick lines of blood ran from his nose and the corners of his left eye. His face was a twisted mask of almost inhuman rage, and the man was quite literally foaming at the mouth as his spittle bubbled into froth that was tinted red by the blood that ran down his face into it.

"What the hell's wrong with him?" Alex didn't realize that he'd spoken his question aloud until Derflinger spoke up in answer.

"It looks like he's gone berserk, you don't see that too often since Mages normally need their wits about them in order to cast their spells right, but every now and then it crops up. You know Partner, if you don't start severing his spells he'll just keep on looping them on you until either you're exhausted and he can kill you or he runs out of Willpower, and in this state he'll keep squeezing it out until he keels over dead so I wouldn't hope that he'll run out any time soon."

The sword paused for a moment before continuing.

"Still I don't know why his spells seem to be so much more powerful, even if he is a Square Class there's something not quite adding up here."

The red haired young man twisted so as to avoid a spear made of ice then lashed out with one of his sword to shatter the frozen projectile. It shattered into fragments which in turn melted back into water and flowed back towards the now clearly insane Noble.

"And how the hell do I sever his spells?" he demanded as he prepared to defend against the next wave of attacks.

"Oh yeah, well you'd need a weapon made to cut the magic in them, that or dispel or absorb them. You could also get another Mage with an opposite elemental affinity to disrupt them, that might work. Maybe you should go and ask that Germanian girl that likes you to help; her fire magic might be enough to do it."

This time it wasn't a single spear that came at him but rather an entire boulder. Alex dodged to the side with his enhanced agility and spared an instant to watch as the rolling hulk of ice struck the palace's wall with such force that is caved outwards from it.

"Count Mott, what's the problem your lordship?"

Honestly Alex wasn't sure what was more surprising, the fact that the palaces guards were showing up, the fact that it had taken them this long to do so or the fact that they were stupid enough to do it at all. Whatever the case might be a trio of them were running into the courtyard wielding those odd two pronged spears and wearing light armour. The three of them immediately saw that he and their employer were fighting and swiftly interposed themselves between the young Gandálfr and the Noble.

"YOU! What are you doing fighting Count-"

Whatever else the guard might have been about to say was cut off as Mott, clearly enraged that anyone would dare come between him and his foe, slashed his staff to the side in a single savage gesture. In response half the water about the courtyard split off from its attack on Alex and formed into a huge waterspout. Before they could even utter a word of protest all of the guards were swallowed up by the huge swirling tower of water.

"Oh, that's not good Partner, if you don't get them out of there pretty soon they'll either drown or be torn to shreds."

As he heard Derflinger's pronouncement it took all of his self control not to start cursing up a blue streak. So now not only did he have to deal with an apparently rabid mage in some sort of overdrive frenzy, but he also had a time sensitive hostage situation to worry about as well. Just wonderful.

"Right," he said as he switched the swords between his hands in a single motion that he'd never have been able to pull off without the skill provided by the Familiar rune, "Here's what we'll do, you said we've got to start cancelling his spells so he can't keep looping them. In that case you start absorbing them as much as you can; we'll start with that big one holding the guards and then move on to-"

"Hey hold on a minute Partner," Derflinger's voice cut off Alex's explanation of his plan even as the pseudo Servant was forced to dodge a flurry of arrows made from ice. "What do you mean; I'll start absorbing them, I can't do that."

For a brief instant Alex froze in place to stare at the talking sword, then he was moving again to avoid being bisected by another of those huge ice sheets. Was that it? This whole time he'd thought the sword was holding back its magic absorbing ability because it wanted to keep it as a trump card of some sort, but had the truth simply been that the sentient weapon had forgotten its own powers?

His mind flicked to the confrontation between Saito and Wardes after the Viscount had slain the Albion Prince. That had been when Derflinger had first used that ability; it had said something about not having remembered before. As the memory replayed itself in an instant across his mind the red haired pseudo Servant wanted to smack himself over the head, how could he have forgotten something so important? No wonder the sword had sounded confused yesterday when he'd mentioned it devouring magic.

"What the hell are you talking about? You're Derflinger, the Devourer of Magi; you eat spells like these for breakfast!"

"I do?" the sentient weapon sounded honestly confused to learn that it had such an ability.

"Yes you bloody well do, now hurry up and remember how or else those guards are going to be dead pretty soon!"

Another spear of ice shot towards him, its frozen point directed straight at his heart. Acting on pure reflex he lashed out with the talking sword its blade catching the projectile in midair. However as the ice shattered into fragments the tiny shards seemed to melt in mid-flight, becoming nothing more than falling raindrops.

"Ah, so that's what you meant. I'd forgotten about that." Derflinger sounded quite pleased at this latest development as its blade started to glow and the rust seemed to burn off as polished steel was revealed. "Hah, this is even better than that polishing oil the maid girl was going to get me."

More spears came at him, but Alex's two swords seemed to weave a protective net of metal strokes before him as he dashed sideways towards the place where the waterspout still roared. As he did so he noted that while the water made when his left hand sword broke a spear flowed back to Mott to be used again the droplets made when Derflinger shattered one simply lay on the paving like ordinary water.

That must have been what the sword had meant when it spoke of 'looping', there had been magic placed within the water that made it easy to reuse again and again. After Derflinger absorbed that magic Mott would have to reinvest it once more to get the effect, something that would hopefully tire him out that much quicker.

"GGHHAAARRH!"

That was if the Noble retained enough reason to even do that. It seemed that the longer the fight went on the more insane with rage the Count was becoming. When this fight had begun he'd been enraged but at the very least he'd retained enough of his faculties to set up some sort of strategy. Now though he seemed to have abandoned any form of tactics in favour of simply lashing out as hard as he could as fast as he could. Using the waterspout to get the guards out of the way seemed to have represented the last of his even semi-rational actions.

Still, for now that was working in his favour, the crazed Noble was so focussed on attacking that he hadn't realized just where Alex was going, or if he had then he didn't care. Whatever the case the red haired pseudo Servant was able to get to the huge waterspout and dodge behind it so that it stood between him and Mott.

"Okay Derflinger, do your stuff." As he spoke Alex thrust the sentient sword into the base of the churning white water that made up the twisting geyser. Within its swirling waters he could see the trapped forms of the guards as they thrashed about, so he was careful to stab the waterspout in a spot where there was no chance that the trapped victims might end up being thrown upon his blade.

"Oh yeahhh, that's the good stuff." As its blade began to glow once more the sword spoke in a satisfied tone of one that was being treated to a fine meal.

Above them the pillar of water seemed to slow in its twisting, slow then come to a halt as the mass of water came crashing down in a wave that washed across the courtyard. The flailing forms of the trio of guards also fell, though the same water that had previously threatened to drown them ironically saved them by cushioning their fall, before it flowed away. All three of them were gasping for breath or coughing up water but seemed to be unharmed for the most part.

"GET OUT OF HERE!" Alex shouted as he brought Derflinger up to block yet another series of water shot, "The Count's gone mad, I'm trying to bring him down but I can't do it if I have to protect you!"

The guards must have heard him because all three of them made a wild dash to the far end of the courtyard from the Count. Their movements were so hurried, so frantic, that there was an almost animalistic quality. One of them was even scrambling forwards on all fours seemingly unwilling to give up the time it would take him to get to his feet to run properly.

Okay, no more distractions, now was the time to end this as fast as he could. His Mark of the Gandálfr was active and Derflinger had regained his ability to absorb spells, right now he was at his best so there wasn't any reason to hold back.

There must have been some rationality buried in that mad exterior because Count Mott seemed to sense the change in his foe's demeanour. Whatever the case might have been he raised his staff over his head and started to draw all the water in the entire courtyard to him. It flowed up and around him to gather into a single huge orb that was levitating above his head. There was a flash of light and the great globe of water was flash frozen into a huge mace's head of ice the size of a small house.

"Hah . . . hah . . . haaaAAHHHH!"

The water wielding Noble looked as though he were on his last leg. Contrary to what Derflinger had said earlier it didn't look as though he'd be in any condition to try to outlast Alex. Instead it looked as though it were a toss up between whether Mott's head would explode for all the blood flowing through the now bulging veins of his face or whether he'd simply suffer a heart attack and drop dead on the spot.

"Whoa, be careful Partner, that's a dragon killing spell, if it hits you then you're dead. I'm pretty surprised he can pull it off though, that's an upper Square Class spell, even I can't swallow it whole, I'd need to take a few bites first."

"Derflinger." Alex's single word was quiet and calm.

"Yes?"

"I'm not a dragon."

As if in response to his spoken statement Count Mott bellowed an incoherent roar of rage and brought his staff down as though he were striking the ground. In response the huge spiked wrecking ball of ice shot forwards rolling along the ground like something out of an Indiana Jones film on steroids. Like some sort of unstoppable juggernaut it bore down on the red cad young man.

The thing was that while this was a suitable spell with which to slay a dragon, a huge lumbering beast with heavy scales and great strength, it wasn't so suited to a smaller faster target like Alex. Even as the gigantic attack came on he was already moving to the side and around with all the superhuman speed that the Mark of the Gandálfr had imparted upon him. For all its speed and size he was more than fast enough to get out of its way and charge straight at Mott so swiftly that he left a series of small craters in the ground behind him where the flagstones had been cracked by the pressure of his steps.

This was what he should have done form the start, gone straight for the 'kill' at maximum speed and no holding back. There was a lesson to be learnt here, but he'd think about that later.

The Count never stood a chance; he'd invested all his remaining strength and water into the creation of a spell with which to mindlessly strike his foe as hard as he could. Before he could recover and call some of the water back to him to act as some sort of defence it was already too late. Alex's swords lashed out cutting the Count's staff into three separate parts.

"AAAHHHH!"

Alex was honestly surprised when rather than being dismayed by the loss of his magical aid Count Mott simply leapt at him to attack with his bare hands. The man's incandescently scarlet face only seemed to make the sharp whites of his teeth stand out in more vivid contrast as he lunged at Alex giving him an appearance of inhumanity. Still despite his being caught off guard the new Gandálfr was fast enough to drop his left-hand sword and caught the snarling Noble by the neck.

Held at arm's length with his feet just enough off the ground so that he couldn't find any purchase the maddened Mage could do nothing more than scrabble impotently at the arm of the hand that held him. Try as he might the Count's fingernails couldn't scratch the arm and his twisting head could find no chance to bite. Foam still bubbled about his mouth and spittle flew in all directions as Mott continued to howl his futile anger.

Beneath his fingers Alex could feel the man's pulse, feel his every gasped breath. Right now he was holding tight enough to maintain his grip but still loose enough to allow Mott to breath. It would be so easy, so easy to simply tighten his grip and cut off the man's ability to draw air.

The Summon of Louise shook his head, trying to dispel the oddly compelling thought.

"I-Iskander?"

Looking to the side he saw that the trio of mages that had accompanied him as well as Siesta had made their way out of the broken ruins of the palace's main doors and were now looking at him. Kirche and Louise both looked a little unsteady on their feet but were otherwise alright, however all of them had the same look in their eyes as they gazed at him, Mott and the ruined courtyard, a strange mix of awe, fear, surprise and disbelief.

"Hahh . . . Haaah . . ." Mott's breaths now came as ragged gasps as he seemed to be losing strength. His movements grew weaker and his limbs fell to his side. Yet despite the evident exhaustion overtaking him his eyes continued to burn with the same hate and his teeth were still bared in a furious snarl.

"What . . . what's wrong with him?" Louise asked looking at the Noble with a horrified expression on her face.

"I don't know," Alex admitted as he turned and started towards them and the building, still holding Mott at arm's length as he did so. "There's a disease in the countries near my homeland that bears some resemblance to this, but Derflinger says that this is some kind of berserker state that mages can enter. Might that be it?"

"C-Could it be some sort of plague? Do we need to summon a healer?"

That question came not from the girls before him, but rather from one of the guards that had made his way back into the ruined courtyard. His face was pale as he stared at the weakly moaning Mott and he gripped his spear not like a weapon but rather in the way a frightened child would clutch at a security blanket.

Still his words did bring a rather horrific possibility to mind. Could this be some sort of disease, some variation of rabies? He looked at his arm, at his hand that held the frothing Noble. He should be okay, if he remembered correctly rabies could only be contracted if it was introduced into the bloodstream through something like a bite or a cut. His hand where the bloody foam of Mott's madness was dripping onto was free of wounds of any sort. No chance of him being infected that way.

"It . . . might be." Alex replied, his tone unsure, "If it's anything like the one I know then it's not airborne but rather transmitted through bites and wounds. I would recommend tying him securely to his bed and making sure he has no access to any magical implements. Get as good a healer as you can to see him as soon as possible, aside from that I can't think of anything else you can do other than make sure to care for him as best you can. Be sure to be careful, if this is anything like the disease I know then his saliva will be teeming with the disease, one bite or it getting into a scratch would be all it needs to infect someone else."

God he hoped that it was only something that resembled rabies rather than the disease itself. While the United Kingdom was one of the few rabies free countries on the planet back when he'd been fourteen he'd recorded and watched the movie adaptation of Stephen King's Cujo. The damned film had given him nightmares for weeks, oddly enough not about the dog that had gone mad but rather about the disease that had driven it into that state.

"Not a disease."

The quiet words broke him out of his thoughts and brought his attention to the small blue haired girl that was reading a book despite the seriousness of the situation.

"It's . . . not a disease?" the guard sounded happy to hear that but at the same time sounded unsure.

"Poison." As she spoke the single word she pointed at the Noble's arm where his earlier struggles had caused the sleeve to be torn. There, quite clear to any who looked, one could see where strange black and red veins seemed to radiate from a single spot.

"I . . . I see." Alex said, being sure to put more confidence into his voice than he actually felt. Right now he had to take control of the situation, he couldn't let things spiral out of his control since there were too many ways that this could go badly. He had to be assertive, right now everyone was still stunned, still shocked, but in a little bit people would start to get their bearings, and when they did they'd start looking for someone to blame. He had to act fast if he wanted to make sure that that someone wouldn't be him or any of those with him.

"You!" Once again he used the same drill sergeant voice that he'd used before to get access to the palace. It seemed to work because the previously sagging guard came to attention as though someone had run an electric current through him. For a brief instant Alex was struck with the absurd desire to demand the guard drop and give him twenty just to see if he'd do it. Then he cast the thought aside and proceeded with his half formed plan.

"Show me where the Count can be safely restrained until you can get a healer here for him, have someone get a healer and also get someone to contact the local constabulatory. You've just had a case of attempted murder here man, do your duty and see about getting it investigated."

"A-Attempted . . ." the guard asked in a quavering voice, looking suitably overawed as Alex turned and strode towards him, Mott now more like a limp doll in his hands rather than a struggling madman.

"Of course, clearly someone poisoned the Count in the hopes that in his madness he'd lash out at his staff and servants. Most likely the plan was that one of his servants would slay him in self defence or that another Noble would be called in to deal with his rampage and they'd be the ones to strike him down."

This was nothing more than a half grasped wild speculation, but it seemed to doing its job because the guard was now nodding in agreement. He had been given directions; he'd had someone explain things to him, to a man that was clearly used to orders that meant that the foundation of his world had been steadied. Even though Alex wasn't a fan of how the social class structure of this world worked at least on this occasion it was working in his favour.

Seeing that Mott was now more or less hanging from his grip the pseudo Servant altered his grip to something more gentle that none the less afforded him a firm grasp as well as protection from the man's mouth should he try to bite once more. Tabitha's words about a poison looked like they were probably right, but he felt better not taking any chances.

"Escort me to a suitable place to have the Count restrained!" he ordered the guard as he turned to face the palace. "The sooner we get that done then the sooner you can see to getting him a physician."

Nodding his head so enthusiastically that it might have hurt his neck the armed man gestured for Alex to follow him as he scurried ahead into the building.


-()-


The small group left the Mott palace in a sort silence that had many causes.

Louise's silence was that of the truly shocked, the small pink haired Summoner had been the one most horrified and overwhelmed by the sudden violence and madness of her fellow Noble. Her face still bore an expression of horrified incomprehension despite it being more than an hour since the crazed Water Mage had been restrained and locked in a small room.

Kirche's silence was less to do with horror at the Count's predicament and more to do with brooding over how she'd been taken out so early in the battle. As a Triangle Class Fire Mage she was proud of her strength and the skills that had come from her long efforts to reach such a height. To have been taken out so suddenly, so easily, it grated on her.

Tabitha's silence was perfectly natural to her, but for once it wasn't so much due to her focus on her current book but rather due to her thoughts. She'd seen much in that fight, and what she'd seen worried and intrigued her. Iskander could not be human, of that she was completely sure. His speed, his strength, his ability to endure spells; all of these utterly eclipsed all human limits. Certainly there were ways for a Wind Mage to move that fast, if they were of high enough level, but even so . . .

Siesta's silence was far more content that that of the young Nobles as she sat before Iskander upon the horse that they were sharing. She'd not had her own horse to ride and in the interests of leaving the Mott residence that much quicker the group had elected not to try to get hold of a new one which had resulted in the maid sharing with her rescuer, since it would be improper for her to ride with one of the young Nobles, a fact that she was far from unhappy about. Her silence was the result of her leaning back against his armoured chest and relishing the sense of his arms being about her as he handled the horse's reins.

For his part Alex's silence was a combination of uncertainty as to how to handle the attractive maid being so close, but the larger part of it was his mind dwelling on the fight that had taken place just over an hour ago.

Quite simply it had been a fight that he'd managed very poorly. Certainly it was always in his ability to win the battle in an instant, all he'd have had to do was call out his chariot and the battle would have become a one sided slaughter. He'd refrained from doing so in order to keep the Noble Phantasm a secret and because water and lightning weren't a good mix. Had he employed his trump card there was a chance he might have injured allies by accidentally electrocuting them.

But even with his enhanced abilities he'd been careless, overconfident. These past few days he'd been too sure of the power he'd gained as a Servant and hadn't spent enough time trying to learn to master it. Mott had been a credible threat, but he hadn't been something that should have pushed him so far.

He needed to train, he needed to practice. Sooner or later he'd find himself up against real threats, people like Louise's traitorous lightning wielding fiancée and Tabitha's Void wielding uncle. There was also Sheffield to worry about with her assortment of magical artefacts. He'd have to start getting ready soon.

Siesta shifted in her seat and started to tip slightly so she was leaning against one of his arms, instinctively Alex tensed the arm in order to provide support.

"Iskander?"

The young maid was leaned backwards against his chest and tilting her head back to look up at him. With one hand she gestured for him to lean down, curious he did so.

"Thank you, thank you so very much."

To his surprise the heartfelt words were accompanied by her craning her head round and kissing him firmly on the cheek.

"You didn't give up on me; you stood up to a Noble for me, thank you."

Her face visibly reddening she turned away from him and seemed to begin to take an acute interest in the path ahead of them. For his part the red haired young man found himself feeling more than a little stumped.

Great, one more thing to think about.


-()-


She watched from the shadows as the healer Mage used his magic to study the restrained form of Count Mott. She had no fear that she'd be detected, one of the gifts her 'Master' had procured for her ensured that nothing less than high power spells specifically looking for her could detect her presence.

She'd just returned a few minutes ago to find out how her gambit had worked out, and had been less than pleased with the results. She'd expected to find the entire palace a ruin with bodies scattered everywhere. Instead her pawn was strapped to a bed with secure leather belts and from what she'd heard by eavesdropping on conversations the young man that had visited had been the one to incapacitate him.

Giving the healer a final contemptuous stare she silently made her way out of the door. The Mage would find nothing in the Count's bloodstream, nor would he be able to help the Noble out of the coma into which he'd fallen. The berserker stimulant that she'd given him was powerful and had elevated his ability to generate and handle magical power to levels that he'd never have achieved even with a lifetime of work; however such power came at a heavy price.

The man was to all intents and purposes burnt out. His brain was overtaxed, his heart and other organs aged years ahead of their time, even his magic had been damaged by the increased strain placed upon it. Even if he managed to regain consciousness it was unlikely that he'd ever be more than a cripple magically speaking.

Still that was of no importance. What was of more import was the fact that Saito had somehow managed to defeat her pawn despite the odds being distinctly against him. That was an irritating development but hardly overwhelmingly so. She'd intended to deal with the pest early, but she was quite confident of her ability to deal with him and his Summoner if she ever needed to.

After all, he was just a stupid anime character. She, on the other hand, was real.

With a smile on her lips she opened her dark tear and stepped through.