Cassandra stood before the circle in the basement. The verses had been chanted. Her hand burned as power invaded the room. Had her catalyst worked? She hoped so, after all the time it had taken to get that damned thing.

The sublime existence overwhelmed her. Cassandra opened her eyes. How would her Servant be like?

The smoke that surrounded her vision and filled her senses was about as much an obstacle to her sight as a sheet of glass. The ice-blue eyes that rotated in their sockets scanned the room casually, taking in the scene for the first, familiar time. One pale hand that has only just realized it exists lifts itself, feeling the touch of material against its skin as it sweeps to one side, gathering the air within her cloak like a fan and creating a breeze strong enough to dissipate the smoke in an instant.

Darkness and silver were her colors. Leather the color of night supplemented silver buckles and a studded hauberk that concealed the shape of her slim, feminine figure. Her slender arms and legs were gilded with silver vambraces and greaves while her hands were protected by black gloves. Silver pauldrons bore a cloak and hood of pure midnight, shrouding her features from sight, and shadows almost seem to flicker at the heels of her high leather boots.

Her Servant raised her hands, lifted back the hood of her cloak and unveiled her features.

She was pale, pallid even, yet not inhumanly so. Rather, it was a white beauty akin to snow or the full moon, like a being stepped from another realm into this one. Her features were sharp and angular, yet seem to blend together in a flawless display of perfection that would turn every woman within the vicinity green. A white diamond graced with a waterfall of black hair like ravens feathers, a beauty among beauties, tempered like steel with ancient agelessness and sublime enchantment. Her nose was small, white hill perched above a rose, as her lips moved slightly with the controlled breathing of a warrior.

Strong. Good.

That was her first impression upon seeing the beauty of a Servant. Just her presence was enough to tell that the catalyst had been successful, that the correct Heroic Spirit had received her call. Things were starting well enough.

"I ask of thee, art thou my Master?

Her voice was quiet, yet embodied intimidating force. Any other human would have been impressed. They would have cowered, flinched, or stepped back, shown reverence, something.

Cassandra only showed her always present cheerful smile, as if this was an everyday thing, unaffected by the power that now flooded the room. Her answer maintained its singsong constancy. "Yes. I am your Master!"

With that, Cassandra showed her right arm. There, burning red, was a tattoo composed of various lines and curves that vaguely resembled a bat with its two wings. Her sleeveless shift did nothing to conceal her thin and lithe frame and simply made the Command Seals stand out even more.

Her Servant stepped forward. The tinkling of mail and the rustle of cloth followed her out of the summoning circle. She raised one arm, the right, her armor dissolving in a shimmer of dark, butterfly-like particles that scattered into the air briefly like fireworks before vanishing into blackness. Gently, as if she were expecting her hand to pass straight through her face, her Servant brought her hand carefully against Cassandra's face.

"So cold and hollow:
A doll-like existence.
Smiling whilst dying?"

The smile on her Servant's face was sad, small, her expression filled with a sense of incomprehensible longing. Cassandra remained unfazed, her smile not wavering on the slightest. She understood that the poem was about her, and it was somewhat... good that her Servant had got more insight on her in a single glance than most high level magi could in a thousand tries. For someone to see on the depths of darkness in her eyes like that was a first.

However, to tell the truth, she did not care in the slightest. Her Servant could wax poetry all day for all she cared, as long as there were results. Her first impression of her had been of strength, but it was time to expand on that, to know her capabilities and to see just how much they would get along in combat. That insight she had displayed already announced a good compatibility between them.

"Now, my beautiful and strong Servant, may I inquire as to your class and abilities, Noble Phantasms included?"

The beautiful wraith spoke again, her voice, gentle, calm, yet filled with the steadfast determination of someone willing to move Heaven and Earth should need require it.

"I am your Servant, summoned by the Holy Grail under the Class of Lancer. For as long as I serve at your side, my spear shall always be at your service."

Lancer withdrew her hand and spoke very briefly about her identity. It was enough.

Cassandra had truly drawn the best possible card in this Holy Grail War. She did not really believe in luck, but to get a Servant so compatible with her was something akin to a small miracle. Furthermore, knowing who the Heroic Spirit in front of her was, Cassie already had a pretty good guess on at least one of her Noble Phantasms, if only judging from her sole comment on the matter.

She was pleased, or at least as pleased as an empty doll like her could be. It was reflected on her outside, but her heart remained immutable and cold. In less than two seconds, a new plan had been traced, and Cassandra was on the move.

First, she extracted a piece of paper out of her pocket, and showed it to Lancer. "It is a map of this residence. Memorize it, then destroy it. The quantity and quality of traps littering this place might trouble even to a Servant such as you."

Once Lancer was done memorizing the map and had erased its existence, Cassandra gave her new instructions. "Go to the den. On a table there, I have a detailed map of Fuyuki that you will do well to inspect. Meanwhile, I'll transport our supplies there. That room is to serve as our main headquarters in this war."

Although her voice and face were as cheerful as ever, her tone carried a firmness that it hadn't before, making it clear that she was serious. Cassandra did not even wait for Lancer to obey as she moved to a certain sealed room in her workshop. She grabbed two enormous crates with ease and carried them to the living room. She would need to take three more trips.

During one of those trips, her stare casually fell on the Command Seals on her hand. There was that feel again.

Cassandra's face tried to frown, but all it managed was a distorted smile. It had been so long since the last time she had made another expression that she had forgotten how to even frown.

That one feel. She had felt the same thing when the bruises appeared suddenly on her arm. Then the invitation had come. How she was one of the chosen.

At that moment, Cassandra Blake, who had not felt anything during uncountable years felt curiosity. And that was enough. That same curiosity pushed her to take a leave of absence from her duties for the Clock Tower, to start the chase for the catalyst that would hopefully assure her victory, and finally had taken her here, to this city and this war.

Why? Why had the Holy Grail chosen her? She had no wish she could think of. She had no desire. She was not dissatisfied with her empty life. She did not have any drive to improve her existence. So why?

Why had she been chosen?

Cassandra Blake would fight in this war until she found an answer to that single impulse of curiosity she felt.