B

According to what the Holy Grail had told him, titles of nobility and royalty and all that weren't as prevalent in the modern world as it was when he was alive. Sure, there were places that held to those titles to varying degrees of seriousness and actual power, but even that wasn't the same. Nobility had adapted to the times, though perhaps it was more accurate to say that it had degraded, and even the most powerful noble in the modern age didn't, or couldn't, run rampant like the worst examples in his own time. Accountability for the powerful, what a funny little concept.

Despite that, it was clear enough to him that nobility no longer equated to power, if his present surroundings were any indication. The building that Caster's Master resided in was a towering thing of metal and concrete, soaring above the seas and mountains, a testament to progress more enduring than any ruin from his own time. Inside were a multitude of men, armed and trained, prowling the halls in constant communication with each other. He was fairly certain that an attempted breach of the building would have been reported within the first few seconds of it occurring. Then again, knowing that you were under attack by a Servant wouldn't exactly do the vast majority of people any good, but hey, it showed that Galliasta was prepared at least.

And then there were the women of course. They'd passed halls and rooms filled with girls of surprising variety and notable…assets, an air of opulence and sheer decadence that prompted Lancer to wonder whether Galliasta had brought them all to be part of the war or to be part of some brothel somewhere. The sheer audacity of it all bemused him more than anything else, and he stopped counting the man's concubines once he'd reached forty.

Bazett stirred in his arms, frowning and muttering in his sleep, and the Servant chuckled. Ahead of him, Caster walked onwards, gamely ignoring the looks that Galliasta's women were giving her. Not that there were all that many of course, not when such promising fresh meat was present, and Lancer couldn't help but smile cheekily at whichever girl had the courage to look him in the eye. The answer, as it turned out, was that they were nothing if not courageous. Flirtatious gazes and whispered conversations gave way to an outbreak of giggles in his wake.

Perhaps Galliasta did know what he was doing after all. At the very least he had an understanding of excess and decadence that would have rivaled Medb's own degeneracy, no mean feat mind you. He supposed they would have gotten along well, presuming that Medb wouldn't have decided to skewer the man in any case.

Still, as much as he would have liked to stop by and occupy their attention for the next few hours, business did come before pleasure, and his Master's condition was enough of a burden on his mind that any dalliances with Galliasta's 'help' would have been thoroughly soured. The women continued to hover around him a while longer, like vultures to a rotting corpse, following both Servants until they'd finally reached the other side of the perfumed hell and the last girl waved them goodbye with an intriguing look. Lancer sighed and kept walking, his Master feeling particularly heavy in his arms as he did.

Caster sighed in relief, the pale mask she wore slipping to allow a hint of her exhaustion through. "Thanks for being my shield there, Lancer." The Servant commented as she walked, gaze resolutely not looking back from whence they came. "Honestly, they're like that to everyone that passes them by, but you were sufficiently distracting that we got through that mostly unscathed."

Sufficiently distracting eh? He supposed that was a compliment and chuckled good naturedly. "You'll hear no complaints from me. If I'd known about such…ample distractions, I probably would have visited your humble abode much earlier."

"Humble abode. Of course." She noted wryly, and even without looking at her directly he could tell that Caster was trying to suppress her own exasperation. He chuckled again, with not so much good nature this time, but left it at that. His eyes wandered around the halls, taking note of the serpentine patterns carved into the walls, the faint hint of mana that suffused the place like some animal's musk.

This tower of theirs was an interesting thing, in more ways than one. Beyond the wealth and the resources Galliasta had obviously invested into it, the entire building was so heavily enchanted with augmentations and traps that one could tell, even by a casual glance, that Galliasta had been working towards this war for years now. Halls stretched on longer than they should, some bypassing the entire length of the building at certain key locations. Floors existed where they shouldn't, their presence completely invisible from the outside even as they housed room after room of guests and tools. Rooms were larger and more grandiose than they would reasonably appear for a building of this size, a three-story tall ballroom plaza existing right above a parking garage and right below a training room for his people.

Then throughout it all, that ever-present scent of blood in the air and mixed with the mana in a peculiar way that defied description. The walls were plastered with eldritch sigils and runes, enchantments designed to discombobulate trespassers and lead them off the path. Lancer reasoned that maybe thirty percent of what he'd actually seen so far was livable or otherwise passable, everything else was made to merely look as though it was comfortable, to lure in the foolish and reckless and thin out any potential opponent that could breach the building.

But that was all fairly mundane, defenses that Galliasta had likely employed even before summoning his Caster. With the Servant of the Scroll by his side, those defenses should have been amplified even further, at least to the point that they would be able to disable or possibly threaten him. As it was, Lancer sensed nothing of the sort, the only enchantments present being that of her Master, and the complete absence of any such defensive enchantments from Caster of all people was just making him more and more curious at the blonde-haired girl in front of him.

"This will be your room, and your Master's, of course" Caster said, opening one of the many identical doors along the hall and revealing a room that Lancer was fairly certain was larger than the entire floor. In a corner of the room lay a bar with a variety of alcoholic brands that Lancer had no idea of but couldn't wait to try, while in another partition within that same room was a bed larger than two sedans stacked side by side. "My Master apologizes for not preparing a more luxurious room 'befitting Bazett's role and position in the war' and hopes that you two would accept this for now."

"'Befitting her role and position' huh?" Lancer wondered aloud, walking inside and taking a good look at all the accommodations. They had a TV hanging from the ceiling, which was pretty neat as far as such toys went, and an entire section of the wall was just completely composed of glass. It stank of so much wealth and bad taste that he was barely suppressing the urge to shake his head at the whole thing. Was he being the target of a particularly bad practical joke? "And what's that supposed to mean?"

Caster paused for a moment, seemingly in thought, before responding. "It means that he's given you the best possible accommodations available at the moment, but hopes that you'll consider the display prestige and comfort evidence that our alliance is in your best interest. My Master rather values Bazett's cooperation, and by extension your own, so he'd do everything within his power to maintain that cooperation."

Lancer blinked at that, before laughing. Dismissing the excessive display of wealth, Lancer made a beeline towards the bed. "Awfully honest, aren't ya Caster? Wouldn't your Master be upset that you said all that in the first place?"

"No, I don't think so." Caster considered. "Currently, my Master's viewpoint largely focuses on his active competitors rather than us, on Masters instead of Servants. I imagine that he doesn't put much stock on us, seeing us as something akin to tools or familiars, and so our opinions and conversations wouldn't matter so much compared to the opinions and beliefs of those that hold our chains."

Lancer said nothing, gently depositing his Master unto the bed, raising the covers around her body as he did so. It was rather cute actually, the purple haired (pink haired?) girl snuggled into a thick layer of fluff. Amusingly, it didn't seem that the change of locale had made his Master any more comfortable, her frowning and mutterings only growing as she left his arms.

Caster continued on. "Beyond even that, I believe that subtle maneuvering like what I'd described is both unnecessary and ineffective in your case; the former because you're already an ally and require no convincing, the latter because you seem to be the type of man that would appreciate a more direct approach."

"Hmm, alright." Lancer thought aloud as he turned to face the other Servant. Caster was staring at him, blue eyes unnaturally focused in a way that even he found somewhat peculiar. "You've got it rough huh? My Master's pretty great, even if she did fold at the first sign of trouble, but that's not really her fault-"

Nearby, on the bed that Lancer had dropped her in, Bazett gave a vaguely irritated growl. Caster's brow rose up in response, Lancer himself smiling mischievously, before continuing on.

"-still, I'm pretty sure she doesn't see me as a tool, so you've got my deepest condolences about your own predicament, girl." He shrugged, walking towards a nearby couch before dropping into it with relish. He had no idea what it was made of, but whatever it was must have been sinfully soft. "It must be a pain in the ass dealing with his shit all the time, I'm amazed you're not wound up like a clock. Well, you seem pretty tense to me anyway, but it's pretty impressive you're not more tense is what I'm saying."

Caster frowned, before shrugging. "I wouldn't say that, but stress is a natural part of the job. Even in the best-case scenario wherein you enjoy every aspect of your job, you're still going to accrue pressure or tension when executing your role. I've long since managed to deal with it."

Lancer blinked for a moment, before smirking and leaning a bit closer. "So you are stressed out then?"

She snorted. "I'm engaged in a conflict with six other Heroic Spirits, I'm constantly wondering whether I'd be capable of fighting them off, dodging whatever traps they may have placed for me, or simply holding my own in a battlefield of legends. I think anyone that doesn't take this seriously is something of a fool, wouldn't you say?"

He laughed at that. "Well, I suppose that's true enough. You seem like the type to overthink things, which may have been a good or bad thing with your legend, but I wouldn't know. Still it can't be all that bad, since you're here and kicking after all, must have worked out for you more often than not. I never gave things a lot of thought in life, y'know? Go with the flow, I think the modern parlance would say, and you know what? I don't think I really had that many regrets, all things considered."

Caster sighed, a hand to her brow. "Yes, I can see that. Is there anything else then? I have something of a busy day later, and I rather conserve my energy if at all possible."

"Alright sure, just one question then." Lancer smirked, his eyes hungry and searching. "Wanna sleep with me?"

For all that the other Servant had maintained a cool and composed demeanor ever since he'd first met her, Lancer was delighted at the response he got. His words didn't seem to have an immediate effect at first, the girl frowning in confusion as though trying to parse another meaning from his words. Eventually however, his words eventually clicked into her mind, and he had the exquisite pleasure of watching as the Servant of the Scroll manifested a bright crimson blush that made every other color in the room pale in comparison.

"Tha-I-Wha-" she started, her blush only going deeper as Lancer laughed mischievously. "T-that's highly inappropriate!"

"So's trying to kill each other, but that's just part of the job, ain't it?" Lancer smiled, leaning back in satisfaction. "We're supposed to be allies right? That means we're supposed to fight and kill and die together, and as far as I'm concerned that's as close as you can get to someone with your clothes still on. Don't see much point of your whole ice queen thing given all that y'know?"

"I…wha…ice queen?" She muttered, consternated, with Lancer merely nodding in response.

"Exactly. What you need is to relax, live a little! I've seen it plenty times before y'know. Eight, maybe nine, times out of ten that meant they were interested and wild. So I figured, hey, since we're both stressed out-"

"I'm not interested." Caster seethed out in response, the embarrassment finally making its way to righteous anger. "And I would have you know that I'm married, Lancer!"

"So am I." Lancer shrugged, which seemed to catch the girl off guard. "Or rather, I was? I don't exactly know how death works with marriage, but I'm pretty sure I'm still bound by it. It's a thing with my legend ya see, bound to promises I made even after death. So really, by that logic, if I'm still bound to never eat a dog or to die by this weapon by so and so person, I'm pretty sure I'm still married to Emer."

The other Servant seemed completely speechless at that, and Lancer frowned. "Damn, I didn't just out myself, did I? Both our Masters had an idea of who the other was going to summon after all, and since Bazett never really changed her plan I assumed that-"

"N-no, I know who you are Cu Chulainn, that-that's not it." Caster sighed. "I'm just surprised. You claim to love and cherish your wife, yet you'd still…well.."

"It's just sex Caster, I don't see the big deal about it." Lancer noted, raising his hands up to the back of his head. "I still love my wife, and yeah she was aware of my trysts, but she didn't particularly care. She knew she had my heart, that I would always return to her, no matter what. What does a night's rampant debauchery matter to a lifetime with her? What does a moment's passion matter compared to a lifetime's promise? We both had an agreement, we were both fine with it."

The girl didn't seem to know how to respond to that, her frown deepening as she seemed to grasp at words just out of reach. Lancer smirked, closing his eyes and giving a contented sigh. "That and she had bountiful tracks of land-"

"Lancer."

"I can almost see it, y'know. They were often a great comfort to me, on lonely nights and restless mornings-"

"Lancer-"

"-sometimes I think that I could reach out and-"

"Lancer-"

"Such a chaste little thing, aren't you?" He sighed, cracking open an eye to observe the now thoroughly embarrassed Servant. She seemed to have settled onto a nearby chair, a hand over her head as though fighting off a blinding headache "You're a Heroic Spirit too, so you must have been famous in your own time. I'm sure there would have been countless men and women lining up to be yours, even for a night."

"I suppose you're right there." She conceded weakly, and he clapped his hands in triumph.

"Ah see, now that is something to talk about." He chuckled, opening his eyes fully and leaning towards Caster, eyes aflame with mischief. "They're always so thankful, aren't they? I think my record was twenty in a single night, though that didn't include the repeats-"

"Lancer please." She groaned out. "I never tried. Never wanted to try. I was happy with my wife, and I had no interest in any of my…fans."

"Oh, you married a woman?" Lancer hummed with interest. "How progressive. But really, not a single one? You must have had the self-control of a monk or something, consider me thoroughly impressed Caster."

She didn't say anything this time, a weak grunt, a wave of her hand, being the only response the girl had for him this time. For his part, Lancer didn't mind, his hand resting on his chin as crimson eyes studied the Servant he was to entrust his life with.

Caster was certainly an interesting one, that much was obvious ever since their first meeting. She'd given up what advantage she had by clarifying who she was, despite the fact that no Servant in her right mind would dare to throw away the advantage of anonymity to another. She was inclined to talking and diplomacy, far more than Lancer himself thought was prudent, especially in the middle of a war, but he could see the fruits of her efforts clear as day. There were three Servants at the Kotomine Church earlier after all, and despite being in such close proximity, none of them were engaged in combat with each other. Instead, they merely talked and coexisted, figures of legends brought into a stalemate by this girl and her cold eyes.

Yet despite that there was another side of her that was so curiously naïve that he couldn't help but note how adorable it all was. She was disinclined from lying, she seemed to treat others honestly and directly, there was a naivety buried within her that he wouldn't have attributed to the cold looking woman at first. That, more than anything else, was what stayed his hand earlier, what made him consider than an alliance with her could work.

At the same time, he'd seen her with the other Servants. The man in red, the woman in armor. She didn't talk to them like a conniving rat or an innocent girl or some weak-willed sycophant. She stood among them like equals, unconcerned and unafraid, the barest glint of violence in her eyes, an energy in her step that he didn't think she was even aware of.

Surrounded by powerful warriors and talented killers, Caster was alive somehow. Like she was enjoying every second of it, as though she was more at home there, staring death in the eyes with nothing but her words and her wit than she was here, sitting down and talking about sex and romance.

He wondered who she was, though Lancer wasn't in a particular hurry to figure that out. The answer was sure to present itself to him eventually, and he had a much more enjoyable aim for tonight than figuring out her name.

"So.." he began, catching her attention as he gave her a toothy grin. "I was thinking-"

"No, Lancer."

He placed a hand over his heart, a look of hurt in his crimson eyes as the barest flicker of mischief danced beneath. "Caster, I'm hurt. I never proposition a woman twice, usually once is enough-"

"Lancer."

"Okay, okay." His hands raised in mock surrender. "I was going to suggest a spar with you. A friendly one."

As soon as the words left his mouth, he could see an immediate effect on the other Servant. Her gaze snapped to his, azure eyes meeting scarlet ones, the embarrassment of an innocent girl replaced by the attention of a predator. It was almost, but not quite, the same as when she'd been talking with the two Servants from before. The intensity and calculation was certainly there, but instead of cool confidence, Caster was now possessed of a boundless energy that seemed barely able to keep itself contained within her form. His eyes flickered down, her hands clasped together. A controlled excitement that had washed away any sign of the embarrassed girl that had been sitting there moments earlier.

It was quite possible that Caster simply wasn't the type to be interested in sex, not when she gravitated towards violence like moth to a flame. If anything, that little revelation just made her all the more attractive to him.

"A spar?" she said, her voice curious. Lancer suppressed the smile crawling up his lips. He got her.

"Sure." He shrugged, leaning closer to her. "I'm not interested in the grail. I don't want riches, I don't have some wish for the grail to grant. Didn't really think things through remember? So I didn't really have any regrets, live fast, die young."

"That seems easy enough to imagine." Caster noted wryly. He gave a wolfish grin at that.

"What I am interested in is fighting. I accepted my Master's call, I allowed myself to be summoned here, because the opportunity to fight six of the greatest heroes mankind has ever produced is just so damn exciting that I would have been happy to rip my arm off and gut myself for an opportunity to be here."

He had her attention now, so he continued on. "The problem as far as I can see it though? We're allies. We've got no reason to fight each other, and our own Masters don't really have an interest in us fighting each other. Boom, one goes down, I have the opportunity to fight five of the greatest heroes mankind has ever produced and yeah that's still a hell of a deal, but I don't feel right about it."

"So, you and me? Let's fight. We test ourselves against the other, fight till first blood or yield, then we can both focus on beating down every other Servant in the war. It'll relieve stress, we'll understand each other's capabilities in a fight so coordinating is easier and neither of us have to really die for it. Hell of a deal, in my opinion. Whaddya say?"

A few moments passed, Caster's eyes searching, studying Lancer. He didn't particularly know what she was looking for exactly, but neither did he particularly care. They both knew how this was going to end, so he simply leaned back, that same toothy smile on his face, and waited.

It didn't take long after that.

"Alright, okay." She sighed, a screen of false irritation masking her obvious excitement. "If you're that eager for a fight, I'd be remiss in my duties to deny you that honor."

Lancer scoffed as he jumped up to his feet, a spring in his step. "Has anyone ever told you that you suck at foreplay? What, did you write a dissertation before every man you got killed or did you save that for afterwards?"

"It's like you want to die, don't you?"

"Much better. Keep it up, we'll make a warrior out of you yet."

He had always been a morning person, early to bed, early to rise and all that. It had always made the most sense to him, to meet the oncoming day with one's full might and full vitality, to be prepared for the oncoming challenges in your way. It also helped that it made the most sense militarily as well as he recalled, or would recall, the advantage of striking an unprepared enemy to be invaluable.

These days, he did not have a particularly brutal schedule that would necessitate such aggressive posturing so early in the day. Instead, he'd found that breakfast had served to be an ample motivator.

It was the food of course, which was a reasonable enough conclusion to make. There was a variety to what was available, to who it was available to, that was simply remarkable. He had known about it intellectually of course, the Holy Grail had informed him so, but he did not think he was a person, or would be a person, particularly inclined to trust in witchcraft when the senses could do just as well. As soon as the first opportunity had presented itself he had left the apartments of that cold, grey, city and snuck out into the marketplace with his Master. Partially it was a need for adventure, to explore the world while he still could and immerse himself in a future far and away from his own. It was also a means to get away from that Tower, cold and distant and confirming everything he believed, or would believe, the excesses of witchcraft would eventually lead to.

But the markets? Ah the markets were truly alive. The people roamed out and about, in search of sustenance by which they could face the day. These were not ignorant people, but educated, intelligent, men and women with access to goods that would have made lesser kings weep in envy. If one had a mind to, one could traverse through the stalls and the shops and the people and acquire within a morning what kings of ages past would have struggled to do in a month. Wine from the reputable vineyards of Gaul within the Francois Republic and seafood taken from the north Atlantic! Spices from half a world away arrayed into tiny little bottles and sold by the hundreds! Half a year's worth of travel for either task done in the span of ten minutes! He gathered the spices to him, breathed in the delicacies and the scent of a far away world. Then, after he was done sneezing in any case, he would move on to local restaurants were cooks played with ingredients and materials that his own personal chefs would have killed to possess.

It had pained him to leave, despite the necessity of doing so. The dreariness of the country itself was a point against it, but he'd barely had any time at all to explore the city. Foggy and cold though it may be, Londinium was still the capital of an Empire that had endured for centuries. There were lessons to be learned, people to observe, opportunities to exploit within the country that wouldn't likely exist anywhere else. Unfortunately, his Master's Master had bid them return to Fuyuki, a decision that had dampened his spirits until he'd been informed of three facts.

The first was that it would be the site of the Fifth Holy Grail War, a contest between the best and greatest Heroes mankind had ever produced. Seven Heroes thrown into a battlefield whereupon the only rule was to be the last one standing, a true test of one's mettle to determine the worthiest among them all. Remarkable, truly remarkable, and that alone would have been enough for him to leave Londinium with all the speed he could muster. In fact, if not for his Master's insistence on the novelty of flying via airplane and that it would be a considerably more comfortable voyage that way, he would have up and swam all the way to Fuyuki that very day!

The second was that it was a city of the Akitsushima Dominion, the Dragon of the Orient, one of the four upstarts that had toppled old Albion from its throne. It wouldn't have been the first location he would have chosen of course; his home had been subsumed into the state of Magna Rumeli, exploring what had happened to his land and his people would have been his first move. Next to that, visiting Germania or the Unified States would have been his next pick, considering that the Albionese he'd met had held great ire towards the former and that the latter was an entirely new continent he'd never even have dreamed of in his youth. Now that he was finally in Fuyuki, he could say that the city was far more comfortable than he'd initially given it credit for, if for no other reason than that he could actually see the sun for more than an hour every day.

The third? Well the third was the most interesting reason of all, of course. According to his Master, and his Master's Master, he had died in Fuyuki. More specifically, he'd died fighting in the last war.

Fascinating. Absolutely fascinating. The sheer wonder of it all, that singular reason, outweighed all other considerations.

"-ther? Brother?"

He started, turning towards the voice with wide eyes, his Master looking at him with kindly eyes and a concerned frown, even as the old lady in front of him giggled and cooed. He glanced down, cheeks flush with embarrassment, before handing back the fish to the kindly old woman that managed the shop.

"I apologize." He said, bowing deep as the customs of the land dictated. The Holy Grail had given him the necessary means by which he could communicate with others, but he still strived to learn the language without the Grail's interference. Knowledge given was not knowledge earned after all. "I was distracted, your product is quite good, ma'am."

"Oh don't worry about it young man." The old woman cooed, and he noted that she was already bagging the fish for him. "Your sister already paid for it while you were distracted, are you interested in fish?"

In a manner of speaking, he supposed she was right. The tuna caught in and around Akitsushima was very different from the sort caught in Albion and very, very, different from the seafood available in his homeland. He'd been considering the practical applications of the fish, whether one was more nutritious than the other given the effort necessary to catch it versus that of other species. He'd also been wondering whether his other self had eaten this particular species of fish when he'd been here last, though that in and of itself was much more difficult to determine.

But he couldn't say all that to the woman, not without them being amused or confused by his words, so he nodded meekly. The gesture seemed enough to appease the woman, who handed him the product, plus a variety of other specimens, before turning to his 'sister'.

"Can we have tuna for breakfast, sister?" He smiled at the girl, who smiled gently back at him. Truth be told they didn't look much alike. Her own features were distinctly Asiatic, with the pale skin and stature common to the populace here, with the only defining feature to separate her from the rest being her hair. His own was more distinctly more Mediterranean, reflecting his own origins, with bronze skin and scarlet hair that stood out in the ethnically homogeneous state of Akitsushima. Nonetheless, the unique peculiarities of the language, being that the word 'sister' in akinese could simply be in reference to an older, more respected, woman, as well as the fact that most of the population typically didn't go out of their way to meddle in the affairs of others, meant that the deception was easy enough to maintain.

Not that he wanted to deceive others anyway. Truth be told, he would have preferred to go about things in an entirely different way, but he'd already been advised about that. He knew better than to against his advisor's opinion, at least not without a convincing enough reason to do so anyway.

"Of course, Alex." Sakura Matou smiled, her hand settling down to rustle the boy's head, a move that brought much amusement to the onlookers and much consternation to the Servant himself. She turned to the stall. "Thank you once again, is it alright if we come by again tomorrow?"

The old woman laughed. "Of course! We'll be having salmon tomorrow, so better build up an appetite by then, okay Alex?"

Despite himself, he felt himself nod excitedly, before waving goodbye to the woman and trotting off after his Master. They passed through a multitude of other stalls, looking to all the world an adoring big sister and her excitable younger brother, as they communicated through the link between them.

"I'm very sorry about that, Alexander." She sighed mentally, and he could practically see her regret manifest itself physically, slowing her pace and perching itself atop her shoulders, the weight of it all pressing down against her like some unbearable sin. "It's not very befitting of someone like you being thought of as a child-"

"Nonsense, it's perfectly natural." He replied cheekily, his grin widening as he spied a variety of octopus and eel along another stall. "I appear as a child in this form, mentally I seem to function as a child, so it only makes sense for others to consider me a child. At the very least, I don't consider their opinions very important after all. Your own opinion is of far more importance than that of the populace, even if their fish is rather extraordinary."

His current view of her was obscured by both their current position in the crowd and the height difference between the two, yet he spied the tips of her ears turning red in embarrassment. From deep within her mind, he heard a barely perceptible whisper.

"Thank you, Rider."

The Servant grinned. "Of course, Master."

His Master was an interesting person, though truth be told he still didn't know very much about her. It had been a week since he'd been summoned now, give or take a few days, and in all that time the only opportunity he'd had to get to know his new partner was in the plane ride over and the handful of days wherein they'd actually been in Fuyuki proper. There hadn't been a lot of opportunities to get to know her in Londinium, surrounded as she was by her peers and teachers.

Which was not to say that he didn't observe her then either, but Alex didn't find that particularly satisfying. He'd only been minimally briefed on the Clock Tower, a collection of mages united in the modern world, but a mere glance upon those people told him all he needed to know of their character.

How could he not know after all, when he'd known them his entire life? Oh yes their names were different, the titles in English instead of Greek, but their hollow smiles remained affixed, their calculating gazes unchanged from his time in his father's court. They were nobles, politicians, liars and schemers, so tantalizingly familiar to the early days of his childhood that it took effort for him not to sneer in distaste.

To survive in such an environment required one to either play the game at their level or to smash through their lies and manipulations through brute force. It was plain enough to see that Sakura was more the former than the latter, and he would be a poor Servant indeed to judge his Master solely upon those observations as she fought for her life. He was thankful, then, to have the opportunity to know his Master without such deception hovering over them both.

He turned to Sakura, about to speak, before he paused. That did not mean, of course, that his Master was bereft of worries of her own, if her own countenance was any indication. He studied her for a moment longer before speaking. "Distracted about something, Master?"

Through their bond, he received the impression of a smile. "Something like that. I'm thinking of what to cook for Senpai."

He felt his lips twist into a knowing grin. This was looking to be a very promising morning. "Ah. That boy, eh? You know you've been very careful in making sure I've never even seen him, are you perchance hiding him from me?"

"M-maybe." She admitted shyly, and Alex chuckled. Something in his tone seemed to concern the girl, and her head jerked to the side slightly, eyes widening like she'd made a mistake.

"N-not that I was trying to keep anything from you of course-"

Alex laughed, his voice youthful and exuberant, and she relaxed slightly. "Your reasons are your own. Keep them if you like, but it seems that you've been trying very hard to ensure I was busy with something or other whenever you'd visit. Why the sudden change of heart?"

Long moments passed as they walked nearly side by side, the gentle activity of the market eventually melting away into the quiet streets. Eventually, she spoke.

"If I'm around Senpai, he'll be in danger." She thought aloud, her voice no longer quite as shy. Instead, she was speaking in clipped, distant, tones. Like she was reciting from a list in her head, forcing her thoughts into a particular pattern. Alex's laughter quieted, the Servant silently listening. "Until I win the war, until this is all over, I can't be with him. This'll probably be the last time I'll see him for a while. If things go badly, this'll be the last time I'll ever see him."

Alexander remained quiet, so the girl continued on. "So I was thinking of…of telling him to be careful maybe. Just to be safe, maybe get out of the city while he still could. And if he didn't listen to me, then at least you'd know what he looked like, you'd know that he was important to me. You could protect him, if I wasn't able to."

"A sound plan." Alex nodded. "Do you think he'll reciprocate?"

She frowned, a bit of color returning to her face. "R-reciprocate what?"

The Servant rolled his eyes. "Your feelings for him obviously. My form might not be me at my best, but I don't need to be fully grown to see that you're smitten by the man."

Sakura widened her eyes, before averting her gaze with an embarrassed sound. "Sensei said that you were a…. problematic Servant, when he was your Master. I didn't understand what he meant by that, though I think I'm starting to."

Alex laughed at that, ignoring the strange looks he got as he followed her along. "Perhaps you are! So, what with you being so smitten by the man, I expect him to be a rather notable individual! Tell me more of him."

The silence here was longer, but Alex didn't mind. It was only reasonable for a maiden in love to gather her thoughts after all, and it would be particularly rude if he interrupted her from her thoughts.

A moment later he stumbled into her, nearly barreling them both onto the sidewalk before the Servant quickly wrapped his arms around her. She was suddenly frigid, her arms almost unnaturally cold to the touch as she stared straight ahead, eyes affixed on something out of sight. He turned his gaze ahead, noting the emergency services, the crowd of concerned onlookers, the ruin of a residential home-

"Rider." His Master spoke, and this time it was without the hesitancy and fragility of before. There was a tension present, a different kind of brittleness, even as Sakura stared at the ruined house with glassy eyes. "Astral form. Investigate the house. Find what you can."

He knew better than to tarry. By the time his Master had finished speaking, Rider was already in the air, his body held aloft by the force of his jump, his physical body escaping the shirt and jeans that had been supplied to him and revealing his true form. A set of crimson leather armor found itself around his body, a matching cape trailing behind him as he landed invisibly among the ruins, emergency services scuttling past him.

"-ent on for how long?"

"At least an hour. Initial blaze predicted to occur around 11:30 to 11:50pm, first responders didn't arrive until at least 1am."

"Shit."

"Yeah its bad."

"Did we find any bodies? Who even lived here?"

"No bodies yet, property listed as belonging to Fujimura."

"…..fuck me, is this Yakuza?"

Rider walked past the emergency services, eyes cast throughout the shattered household. That it looked bad went without saying, noxious ash and burnt ruins, scattered embers and blackened snow. Magic had been involved somehow, dirt gouged out in great craters, the very ground itself burnt to glass by some raging conflagration. At the very back of his mind he felt something tingling, a faint memory, of a far away battlefield and shattered conquests.

This was no accident. Blood was shed here, a battle fought by things beyond the capacity of mortal men. Rider felt his blood quicken, his heart beat faster as his eyes gravitated towards a thin ravine no thicker than his finger, stretching from the middle of the yard all the way to the house itself. His hands reached to his side, drawing forth his blade and angling it parallel to the ravine.

No ravine then. A blade. A Servant had been here, likely two at least. They had fought, and they had shattered this place and turned a home to ash.

He blinked, looking down to find his hands trembling. With a sharp implementation of his will he forced the tremors to cease, sheathing his blade as he opened his mind to the girl.

"Master. There were Servants here, at least two. A Saber at least, though whoever the other one was seemed to be capable of ranged combat."

"….did they find any bodies?"

Her tone was curiously empty, and he found himself shaking his head. "No, it doesn't seem like it."

She breathed out suddenly, the tension broken, and Rider breathed out a sigh of relief. "Then Senpai might still be alive. I'm sorry Rider, but we'll have to eat breakfast later."

"Aww, here I was, looking forward to that tuna."

"I'll make it up to you." She promised, though the warmth he'd been accustomed to was no longer there. How curious. "Senpai's a much better cook than me anyway, I'm sure you'll be much more satisfied with his cooking than mine."

"If you say so." Rider sighed. "What about the other one?"

"Hmm?"

"The ones that did this to your Senpai's home?"

"Ah." She noted cutely, and somehow he got the impression that she was surprised. "Well it's obvious isn't it? We kill them."

He blinked at that, shaking his head and forcing a chuckle. Very curious indeed.

"As you command, Master."

AN: This took far longer than I expected. The Lancer portion of this chapter was about halfway done before I scrapped it in favor of its current iteration. The Rider section experienced a similar, though not as severe, rewrite as well.

On another note, you can support me at pa tr eo n, /lordcaelum. In case anyone would like to support me that way. I'll continue writing regardless, but will allow me to gauge interest and feasibility for long-term writing projects, both in this story and others. The dream would be two chapters a week, though everything considered, I imagine it'll be something of a journey to get there first.