3.0 Alliances

I knew that I was going to have a busy day today. A few hours from now, dawn would break and I'd need to talk to the mercenaries. Of course, I'd have to debrief them on all that occurred last night, but more importantly I'd need to converse with them on the specifics of what exactly they may or may not know by now in regards to the war. After that, I'd have a few more hours until I'd have to meet with the Tohsaka Master and figure out if I still want her as a potential Master. After that, I'd probably have to haul ass and make my way to the Einzbern and figure out if there was a way to align myself with her despite the minimal amount of resources I would have to offer her. Then, while this was all going on, I'd probably have to adapt and fend off any theoretical attempts on my life by the other enemy Servants. I couldn't imagine the enemy just letting me do all this in the middle of the day without consequence after all.

Undoubtedly, I was going to be run ragged today, so why was I entertaining this fool's request for a duel? Credit where credit was due, it wasn't any old fool, but Cu Chulainn. The Eire's Child of Light. The Hound of Culann. a demigod, the offspring between a mortal woman and Lugh, a God of the Eire that was both masterful warrior and wise king. This wasn't some half-forgotten knight in some long defunct kingdom I was fighting, but an honest-to-divinity near mythical figure.

And here I was, Tanya von Degurechaff, mortal woman, picking a fight with the Eire's equivalent of Hercules. It was more than obvious enough on paper than I wasn't likely to win, by dint of my role as Caster I was suited more for defensive postures and strategic management, not aggressive one on one duels. Considering all the things I had to do today, expending my energy to duel him was likely the last thing I should be doing right now.

Now as unwise as my current predicament was, I was compelled to concede that there some advantages to dueling Lancer at this stage of the game. Once Galliasta died and I find another Master to serve, the odds were good that my new Master would require me to neutralize my old comrade. In such a situation, going into a lethal fight against Cu Chulainn without any collected information as to his capabilities and skills would be downright idiotic. Suicide by lancer, essentially. What was worst then, was if I failed to actually carry out my Master's orders of removing Lancer from the field, I was likely going to be derided as useless. That, as far as I was concerned, would essentially be a slower, but no less certain, path to death than simply letting Cu Chulainn stab me with his spear. A Servant without a Master's trust was no longer a partner but a tool, and tools were rarely if ever indispensable.

As such, Lancer's offer of a duel was the perfect opportunity to test him for his capabilities. The perfect opportunity to see him in action, to fight him in a fairly controlled environment without the threat of death hanging over my head. I essentially had no choice but to move forward with the duel, not if I wanted to maintain my long term prospects, and not if I wanted to defeat Lancer one day.

"So, what do you think of Akitsushima?" Lancer asked curiously, a hand on his weapon as the spear rested lazily upon his shoulder. "Yeah, I know that the Grail imparts us knowledge of the modern world and all that crap, but its not the same as actually living it right?"

Well I suppose I would agree with him on principle, if not for the fact that I already did live through this country in one form or another. Still, I doubted that Lancer was asking how I felt about the cost of a train ticket comparative between Akitsushima and Germania. "It's well enough, though I might not understand exactly what it is you're aiming at. Are you thinking of settling in here after the war?"

The other Servant made a sound that I suppose could be vaguely considered to be a laugh. "Pfft, you're a funny one aren't you? Live here? In Akitsushima? In the present day? Oh no honey. That'd be a hilarious time for everyone involved, I'm sure, but that life's just not for me."

"Indeed." I respond, for lack of anything better to say. Lancer seemed to take my acquiescence for agreement, before humming to himself as he followed me through the halls, eyes interestedly taking in everything he found.

It was difficult talking to Lancer, I simply didn't know how to engage with him in a way that allowed for comfortable, natural, conversation. I'd felt it a bit before, right before Lancer had decided to come with me to the Tower, but even then there was the possibility of violence or aggression, which at the very least I knew how to deal with. Now that he was acting in the role of an ally, as much value as that could be said to have in this war, it was worse now. I wasn't certain why exactly this difficulty was present, I'd spoken to Archer just fine, and as much as it seemed Saber and I would likely be working at cross purposes, I never felt particularly awkward around her.

The most likely reason was that unlike the other two, I knew of Lancer's true identity. What with his significance in the mythology of the Eire, his own accomplishments as well as the age of his legend, I suppose it was only natural that I would feel somewhat insecure around him. To put it into a business context, it was like the middle manager of a mildly successful section of the business finding herself working together with the company's founder.

It would have been easier if he'd been aloof and arrogant, at least that was easy enough to work around. Instead, he insisted on this strange sort of informal, relaxed, state of being that reminded me of some unemployed deadbeat working from welfare check to welfare check as their life collapsed all around them. A figure ostensibly open to correction and derision, except for the fact that he'd earned every second of that deadbeat persona.

I sighed. Things were easier when I was alive. At least back then I knew where I stood with Jiuzhou or the Rus Successor States or even those cantankerous fools in Magna Rumeli. At least I'd know whether they were more interested in helping me or irritating me, though more often than not they were liable to do both. Lancer defied such easy categorization, not helped along by the fact that despite what he may think about our current alliance, I might have to kill him someday what with my impending separation with Galliasta. It was unfortunate that he was almost likeable, though that was a great deal better than if he'd been actually likeable.

"Whatcha thinkin' about, Caster?" Lancer commented, and even without looking I could tell he had a grin plastered on his face. "Did you finally make up your mind on whether or not you'd slee-"

"And now, we're here." I note brightly, overpowering whatever it was he was about to say, and slammed through the door with all the subtlety of an armored carrier through a burning building. My hands were upraised for a moment, suitably dramatic that it was, and it seemed that I'd grabbed the attention of everyone inside.

The Tower itself was originally a commercial building owned and controlled by Galliasta and his family, and as such the one thing it had in abundance was space. Multiple floors had been renovated and prepared months in advance for the habitation and use of the mercenaries Galliasta had been planning on hiring, then subsequently enchanted every square inch of this place, from the walls to the furniture and finally to the internal skeleton of the building itself. Then, even with all that preparation, there was still enough excess room that those tenants and mercantile assets that had previously been inhabiting the building were retained. Yes, this was partially done so as to generate income for the coming war, but their primary use was to serve as human shields against a potential incursion by his enemies.

The room I'd brought Lancer to was part of the former, those rooms that had been folded into a workable asset for the mercenaries. It was something of a training room, halfway caught between a gym, dueling ring and practical testing ground for the Tresillo's breaching strategies. As such it had been reinforced with protective spells and other such assets, the room itself even regenerating from any damage it incurs, making it an excellent place for our duel. It was just before dawn now, and if I recalled the Tresillo's schedule they should be shifting into a skeleton crew now. Given the choice between daytime or nighttime operations, I'd obviously ordered my forces to settle into a nocturnal schedule. The odds of needing them for large scale operations at night were vastly more likely than having them operate in the day, and if the rigors of the war required me to deploy them in significant numbers in the middle of the day then something would have likely gone very, very, wrong somewhere along the way.

At a glance, it seemed that the room was primarily composed of people from Fang and Laurent's team, though only Laurent himself seemed to be here. Judging by their current postures, it seemed that they'd been in the middle of combat exercises, though informal enough that the sole squad commander present wasn't directly involved in their activities. They seemed fairly concerned at our arrival, with the men closest to us dropping what they were doing to give us a rather stiff looking salute. I returned the salute, with Lancer returning the gesture towards the men with a lazy wave, which only confused some of the men further.

Eventually, Laurent had extricated himself from the rest of the men, jogging to our position and greeting me with a nod. The man was out of his combat gear, revealing a slightly chubby figure with dark green hair and calm eyes. Despite his apparent calm, I noted that his gaze was flickering more towards the other Servant than me for a few brief moments, before he focused his attention on me once more.

"Ma'am." He says, tone neutral. "I wasn't aware of anything planned for this morning, is there an ongoing op we should be ready for?"

I suppose I could understand the man jumping to that conclusion, given the circumstances. The combat op against Archer last night would have almost certainly gotten my men nervous, considering that the Tresillo would be aware of a potential hostile with which they knew nothing about. On top of that, I was wearing the grey and dark blue uniform of the Tresillo, which would obviously prompt many of them to imagine that I was here for business.

"Not at all, Lieutenant." I replied, keeping my tone as relaxed as possible so as to allay any concern he might feel. It didn't seem to work, or perhaps he was merely the consummate professional type, and merely waited patiently for me to continue. "My guest and I were merely intending a friendly spar, and were going to use the room for it was all."

Laurent paused at that, his gaze leaving mine and over to Lancer. The other Servant had opted out of using anything so convenient as a uniform to shroud his peculiarities, and insisted on wearing the blue body suit. Lancer smiled back at Laurent, adjusting his shift on his spear, which to his credit Laurent made no response to.

"I see." He considered for a moment. "Very well then, I'll be directing the rest of the men to one of the other sites on floor 31 so as to give you two a bit of privacy."

I smiled. Of the Tresillo leaders I'd had the pleasure of interacting with so far, I appreciated Laurent the most so far. He had a quiet sort of dependability that I appreciated greatly in my subordinates, along with a disposition that did not incline him towards asking any inconvenient questions. Had he been in my Corps while I was alive, I couldn't help but imagine him climbing far into the ranks, or at the very least to be recruited into one of Elya's many operations. I was about to thank him for his thoughtfulness, when Lancer interfered.

"Privacy? Oh nah, don't worry about it man." The irish headache noted, smiling in that self-satisfied way of his. "Hell if you like, you could get the rest of your little band and we can have ourselves a betting pool, really spice things up a bit."

The mercenary blinked at his words, before looking over at me in askance. For my part, I merely kept my expression calm and composed, even as I felt a bubbling sort of irritation towards my fellow Servant. "As my guest has asked, if your men would like to stay and observe then they may."

Laurent nodded with some degree of hesitation before walking off towards the rest of the mercenaries, who'd largely clumped up into their own little group as they observed the three of us talking. As soon as the man was out of easy eavesdropping distance, I whirled on Lancer, who maintained that self-satisfied look on your face.

"I understand that the concept of self-restraint might be something alien to you." I began, stifling my own irritation as best I could. "But doesn't it strike you as not being particularly proper or appropriate for us to have our little spar in front of the mercenaries? At the very least if you're interested in testing your strength against mine, having observers on hand would rather stifle our ability to go all out, wouldn't you say?"

He blinked at that, seemingly confused, before his free hand reached towards the back of his head. A moment later, the light of realization blossomed in his eyes. "Huh, you didn't tell them about the war?"

"Of course not. Operational security, they don't need to know. The rules of the war are suitably vague enough that their addition wouldn't cause any significant fuss, but that doesn't mean I'm comfortable with them observing our more superhuman abilities, wouldn't you say?"

Lancer frowned. "No, not really. I kinda assumed you already told them all about the war, since you're working with them and all that. It's what I'd do anyway, since it'd be such a hassle having to keep that from your men in the middle of a war, don't ya think? I mean, what are you gonna say the moment another Servant attacks the building and tries to crack this place like an egg?"

I quirked my brow at that. "I'd describe them as anomalous assets belonging to one of the many supernational organizations currently in the world today. If and when they need to know, they will. Besides, I'd assumed that the moment you suspected their awareness of the war you'd go off and say something irritating and troublesome and exacerbate the situation. Something like, 'Oh all these guys know about the war but aren't Magi right? I think that means we should kill them.' Or something similarly idiotic like that."

Lancer put on a vaguely heartbroken look, ruined only by the fact that his lips were struggling not to form into a thoroughly amused smirk. "Caster, you wound me. Those are the actions of a brute, surely you don't think of me as a brute, do you?"

I ignored the obvious bait. The odds of him having a pre-prepared line for his question was too high, as was the odds that responding to his bait would only increase my frustration. Instead, I opted for a different tact. "You're obviously bloodthirsty enough for it. Why else would you have wanted to duel me in the first place?"

He scoffed, the amusement fleeing into the wind as the heartbroken façade transforming into something resembling actual irritation. "Honestly, Caster. I wanted to duel you because you'd obviously be a worthy opponent, I'm not some mad dog that relishes in pointless murder. I just thought that if you chose to keep these warriors around you, then they must be of some merit and deserve to watch our match."

For a moment, I frowned. I was aware that people in his era would likely have values different from mine, but I still needed a few moments to absorb what exactly he'd said to me before I could parse through it. The moment I did, however, I realized what exactly he was doing.

The Bastard was playing me! The Tresillo were obviously curious with what happened last night, and due to my own laxness in explaining things to them properly they were likely rabid with the need to know more. They'd seen me fight Archer, seen the unusual displays of magic that both he and I were capable of, and had likely been talking amongst themselves about it ever since. What Lancer had done was give them the opportunity to satisfy their curiosity, while framing me as the bad guy if I refused.

But even that maneuver was just icing on the cake. The real purpose for all this was to limit any information I can get from our duel. If my men were watching, then that forced me into operating at the performance level of a baseline human. Sure, I could amplify my strength and speed, but I couldn't use any of my more esoteric abilities without the natural consequence of the Tresillo asking me some very pointed questions later on. On top of that, by nature of his very class Lancer himself wouldn't have to expend much effort or energy to get me to reveal my secrets. In a contest between a Lancer and a Caster, a Caster would obviously be reliant upon her spells while a Lancer need only rely on his physical augmentations and skill with his weapon, not exactly a particularly anomalous skillset as far as secrets went. I, on the other hand, had plenty to hide and if I didn't want to humiliate myself in front of my entire work force then I'd have to fight at an appropriate level to the other Servant.

I grit my teeth. "Alright, you've made your point. They can watch, and we'll fight."

In contrast to the Saber class, Lancers prioritized speed and agility coupled with sheer precision with a long-range weapon that allowed them to dictate the range and engagement profile of their opponent. They were the happy mid-point between the melee domination that the Saber class typically favored and the long range kiting a typical Archer might employ, and thus enjoyed a flexible skillset to both without the mastery of either.

I imagined that in a fight against Saber or Archer, Lancer would likely do fairly well. The battle with Archer had highlighted than the red Servant did not possess the necessary mobility to outpace an opponent faster than him, which meant that Lancer would likely be able to force such an opponent into a more favorable melee match up than the long-range offensive his opponent would favor. A fight against Saber would be much trickier, and would largely depend on Lancer's specific capabilities. I could imagine that Lancer could theoretically perform a series of hit and runs against Saber, striking some chink in her armor before disappearing into the darkness before she could strike back. At the same time, I could easily imagine Saber managing to close the distance and subsequently gut Lancer before he had the opportunity to respond.

Then again, I should probably stop daydreaming about what enemies to send my new partner against. If I lost to him in a spectacularly humiliating way, I doubt I'd be able to influence him to take the war more seriously, never mind directing strategic decisions on his behalf.

It had been maybe twenty minutes since the Tresillo were informed of the impending duel, and what with it being just before dawn and all that, they responded remarkably quickly. Rodriguez was present, his entire body filled with the sort of excitable energy one would imagine a Labrador would have, as he went through the line of mercenaries collecting bets. Laurent and Fang were huddled in a corner, whispering to each other as they studied Lancer and I, though I noted that for the moment they seemed to be studying the other Servant more than me. Reasonable enough, though I imagined that I'd have to answer a few very curious questions once the debrief started.

Isabel wasn't here, which was completely reasonable. She'd be dead tired by now, what with the events of yesterday, if not from physical exhaustion then a mental one. I wouldn't comment on it now, but I'd certainly have to rake her ass on the coals if she missed the debrief.

"Wow, I was kinda joking, but they really came in hard on this one huh?" Lancer whistled, eyeing the Tresillo as a whole. At a rough estimate, maybe a little less than three-fourths of the mercenary contingent were here. Rather remarkable numbers for an off the cuff activity. "You must be keeping them hard on the leash, if they came out this quickly to see a little duel."

"Or perhaps they're curious at the man in the blue skinsuit." I shot back easily. "You're certainly making the women in the company distracted, I haven't seen Fang this curious at another person since….well, ever really."

Lancer blinked at that, before smirking. "Aww, Caster. You shoulda told me you had your eyes on me. Now I feel all bashful and shit."

I stifled a curse on my lips and refused to allow any hint of my irritation to show. Lancer was well versed in psychological warfare, a rather pretty way of saying that he had a propensity to annoy people that likely carried itself over well in live combat. While I did not think of myself as particularly weak in that regard, I knew that I wouldn't have had nearly half as much practice with that skillset while I was alive. After all, when the most interaction one would likely have with another mage was shooting them down from over a mile away and watching them explode into a hundred different body parts, there wasn't a lot left to be said to their corpse really. Not that I was planning on dismembering Lancer to a similar degree, merely flirting heavily with the idea.

"This should be enough." I say finally, turning away from the crowd and towards Lancer. "To first blood or yield, as agreed correct?"

"Yeah sure." Lancer acquiesced. His form was lazy and open, his arms strung up and wrapped around his spear, the weapon itself perched atop his shoulder like some demented flagpole. "You know, of all the other Servants in the war, I didn't expect my first real fight to be against you, Caster. I hope you make things interesting at least."

I ignored Lancer's words, my mind set on the problem of trying to beat him. From the previous conversations, it was clear enough that Lancer either didn't quite know the specifics of my legend or was doing a remarkably good job in trying to convince me of that fact. Operating from the first possibility, it implied a certain degree of uncertainty in his impression of me. Uncertainty which could be exploited in the short term, but which would disappear the longer combat would continue. The second possibility was that Lancer did know, but was baiting me into making a mistake which was serious but of much less immediate concern. If the Child of Light was capable of deception, I wouldn't know of it until the last possible moment. I doubted that the Lancer would give away such highly relevant information in the middle of a practice match, not when he'd already given his word for it to be a nonlethal fight.

As such, my analysis would consider the possibility of his ignorance of my legend as the primary foundation for all further analysis. Contrary to what one would expect, the ignorance of, and thus possible uncertainty generated because of it, was not necessarily a point in my favor.

The uncertainty may allow for a degree of opportunity, in that Lancer could theoretically make mistakes in engaging me based upon that uncertainty, but the odds for that were low. This wasn't some trumped up, mage graduate fresh off of the Berun Institute, this was a Heroic Spirit. Our kind didn't get to this position by making mistakes.

I saw that in my fight with Archer as well. The man was like a machine the entire time, ruthlessly selecting methods to maximize his chances of success while minimizing the possibility of failure, but not a single move he made in execution of those directives was a mistake. He was not possessed of a frail human constitution such that his eyes would glaze over or his limbs tremble, he did not allow panic or fear disrupt the utilitarian equations operating within his skull. As far as physical exertion went, he performed perfectly, and to think that another member of the Knight Class would fare any less was a foolish delusion.

What was worse was that the stratagem I had committed towards Archer would not likely work with Lancer. The strategy had presupposed that Archer would have acquired a fairly comprehensive look at my abilities, thus formulating a method to supposedly counter me, whereupon I could negate those same abilities with methods I'd kept hidden up until the critical moment. All things considered, up until the moment I was blindsided by his own trump card, I'd had multiple redundancies so as to reduce the threat he posed to me. I also took advantage of the fact that an Archer's typical weakness was their inability to respond quickly enough to a fast-paced opponent; in a situation wherein an Archer was incapable of moving faster than their opponent while at the same time not possessing sufficient firepower to overwhelm their enemy, they were likely caught dead in the water.

Such weaknesses did not apply to Lancer. Even assuming that I could stall long enough for Lancer to gain a false sense of confidence, a monumental exertion in its own right when the defining quality of a Lancer was their agility and proficiency in hit and run tactics. As such, with a protracted duel likely being less than ideal for me, I would need to compel him to make the first move. By doing so, he would still retain that iota of uncertainty that would possibly make further steps possible, while limiting any bourgeoning familiarity with my fighting style as much as possible.

Ultimately, it came down to insufficient data. I did not know what strategies would work, I did not know his response to those strategies. The duel would be my effort to reduce those unknowns to an acceptable amount, such that I'd possess enough data to make an educated guess in true combat.

Lancer was looking at me now, his eyes curious and analytical, and I suppose now was as good a time as any.

"Lancer."

He blinked, before smiling. "Yes, my dear?"

"Let's make a bet. If I win, you go and teach my men your technique for close quarters combat."

There was a murmur at that, and Lancer whistled in appreciation. "That's a big ask, though since we're friends and all, that shouldn't be too hard. But what do I get if I win?"

I smiled, portraying confidence I did not at all feel that I had. "Whatever you want, I suppose."

The murmuring heightened at that, and Lancer's smirk turned into a wide grin. "Well, in that case I suppose I shouldn't disappoint a lady."

Heroic Spirits were naturally dramatic. It was the nature of the profession I suppose, one did not reach the heights of my kind without having gained the collective attention and fascination of Humanity as a whole. In such a case, dramatic actions such as Cu Chulainn's own manner of death, Napoleon's return from exile or other such…unnecessarily grandiose actions became a sticking point in the human cultural consciousness. As such, it was typical for Heroic Spirits to play into that drama whenever the option was available.

I'd given Lancer an opening to do that, with my offer and my counter-response, so I was expecting him to do something. I was as prepared for him as I could possibly be, given that I'd allowed him the advantage of initial momentum.

Him disappearing from my sight in a flash of blue light was still something of a surprise though.

Decades of combat experience screamed at me to move, and so I did. I heard screams of shock and alarm as a portion of my vision went red and the sudden velocity of his strike causing a whirlwind to spontaneously manifest itself around me. I'd responded to the blow late, and if I had relied entirely upon my own natural reflexes I would have been skewered instantly. As such I compensated by leveraging my magical energy into a sudden burst of sideways velocity, moving just barely fast enough for Lancer to have missed his stab. The weapon, a bloody crimson in my vision, seemed almost disappointed that I'd dodged as it glinted hungrily. A moment later the sharp edge of his lance disappeared, and I could feel the changing wind pressure as the lance's cylindrical shaft came at me from the opposite direction, fully intending to collapse the back of my skull.

The mechanics of kinetic motion made a conventional dodge here impossible. I'd jumped away from Lancer's stab, and the other Servant had adjusted his subsequent momentum into a spinning attack that would leave me concussed against the weapon's backward momentum, which was also exactly the direction I'd chosen to dodge towards. It was a delightfully simple, fiendishly effective, first strike and if it wasn't happening to me I would have appreciated the sheer brutal artistry of it all.

Nonetheless, the mechanics of my own mastery of computation magic gave me a way out. More specifically, its capability in the complete operation of the concepts of momentum and velocity, the foundational cornerstone of all that a mage could do. As such, with my momentum and kinetic energy forcing me headlong into Lancer's spear, a twitch of my will transformed my velocity towards Lancer, a change in direction so abrupt and unnatural that I could see the Servant's eyes widen in surprise. With the speed I was travelling, it would be impractical to construct armaments or personnel to reasonably hamper or injure him, so I was rather limited on offensive options. As such, I strengthened my shield, allowed my momentum to shift for a moment upwards, and headbutted Lancer in the face.

It wasn't a clean hit, and it certainly wasn't anything I'd advocate on a regular basis. Headbutting the other Servant wasn't even all that accurate in the first place, considering that it was closer to me just throwing myself completely unto the Servant's body, albeit headfirst.

The end results spoke for themselves though, with the unexpected attack upsetting his balance, both Lancer and I were sent sprawling on the floor, the shocked screams and cheers of the Tresillo behind us. I didn't let the momentary turnaround affect me however, even with the split-second advantage I'd torn from his grip, Lancer was already getting back up to his feet, weapon in hand as he tried to create more distance between us. That, more than anything else, wasn't something I could allow and so I rushed up to him, fists and limbs suffused with magic as I struck at him again and again.

In terms of sheer kinetic output, I was fairly certain any one of my blows would be sufficient to break bone, but Lancer himself survived through it relatively unscathed. He dodged my blows when he could, parried those that he couldn't with his spear, and in the rare occasions that either was insufficient, simply took the blows upon his body with a crimson grin on his face.

"What's this, what's this, what's this!?" Lancer cackled, as he raised his spear to block an overhead axe kick, only to dance away as I abruptly reversed my momentum at the last second and flipped my entire orientation in reverse, unleashing an upwards roundhouse kick that only just narrowly missed his head. "Are you really a Caster? You've got to teach me more of this magic!"

I didn't respond, speaking out in combat when you could be doing literally anything else was the gravest of sins, but Lancer himself didn't seem to mind much. He unleashed a barrage of thrusts that turned the air around me into a storm of crimson death, my shield cracking beneath the blows. I wasn't particularly concerned at the severity of the damage he inflicted, but it was a worthwhile trade so as to maintain the current engagement profile.

Instead, moments before the shield broke, I overloaded it with excess energy. The crystal shards of my shield vibrating into light, turning into shards of pure energy that broke exactly as my shield did and subsequently flooding the immediate area with blinding light. I'd been prepared beforehand, so I'd known to avert my eyes at the last second, but Lancer's battle instincts were so finely tuned that the moment he saw me avert my eyes he did the same.

No matter, blinding Lancer would have only been the cherry on top. Lancer averting his gaze meant that he couldn't easily respond to any unexpected changes to the battlefield, or if he did respond, he'd do so at a significantly degraded pace.

Below him, manifesting through the layers of steel between the Tower's floors and far, far, away from any reasonable expectations of predicting such a move, were several kilograms worth of high explosive shaped in an upwards breaching charge. The explosion shattered the ground, burning Lancer and enveloping him in a shroud of deadly shrapnel that would have killed a mortal man thrice over.

I wasn't planning on killing him of course, if I was I wouldn't have settled on such a lukewarm attack. However, I did expect that such an unexpected attack would have triggered at least a few of his contingencies. He had to have them, in one form or another, a Heroic Spirit of his age and fame would likely have had several particularly nasty skills held in reserve just in case. Perhaps it would reflect the damage back to me, perhaps it wouldn't work on this specific instance, but I'd maneuvered him into a situation where he'd have to show some of his trump cards. Otherwise, the shrapnel and heat would cripple him enough that it would be substantially easier to win.

In a sense, I got what I wanted, though not in the way that I expected.

The fire and heat suffused our immediate area, and I could tell from Lancer's subsequent snarl that at the very least I'd inconvenienced him for the moment. At the sound, I rushed forward, knives forming in my hands as my form shifted in the visual spectrum. A moment later, three versions of me were rushing in, knives gleaming in the smoke and flame, ready to stab at Lancer at the first opportunity.

They weren't really me, of course. The nature of visual illusions had changed much since the 40s, though the practical application of it remained the same. Fidelity of image clarity had gone up, the processing necessary to manifest such an illusion moderately reduced with the onset of more efficient networking architecture. Despite all that, to increase the effectiveness of an illusion's appearance so as to mimic real life still required considerable resources, and further dictated that the optimal strategy for their use into two methods. The first would be the coordinated use of such illusions to deceive an opponent's reconnaissance efforts, while the second would be in brief moments like this, whereupon the enemy is at their most confused and disorientated so as to maximize one's attack.

Still, I didn't trust solely on the illusions, which was why I required the secondary distraction that was the explosion. I wouldn't put it past Lancer to be able to spot a notable difference between myself and my clones if given the freedom of a few seconds thought. In the current situation, he'd have to rely on his instinct, which while formidable all on its own could still theoretically be deceived.

His Lance went straight for a clone's neck, blindingly fast, such that if I was the clone I would have had doubts on whether I could have dodged or blocked in time. With the added burden of having to puppet the clone, and the lag in response time stemming from that as a consequence, the clone was killed instantly. It shattered into bright fragments, the sudden dissolution seemingly confusing Lancer, before the illusion transformed into another flash bang and blinded the other Servant once more.

I twisted my leg, aiming it towards Lancer's knee, only for the Servant to switch his stance just in time, resulting in me kicking his thigh instead. I used his leg as leverage, hooking one arm around his weapon as I used my free hand to stab him in the face. Lancer dodged once again, my strike grazing that ridiculous spiked hair he had, before his other knee rushed upwards in an effort to strike me in the gut.

The blow struck, and I could feel my internal organs shift as a consequence, but I struggled through the pain. As it currently stood, Lancer was off balance, both hands on his weapon, his one leg off the ground, the other leg pseudo-pinned by my own foot. Magic circulated through my body, energy enveloping my body as my other hand let go of the knife to establish a firmer hold over his weapon. Lancer seemed to notice I was up to something, but any attempt to waylay me was silenced by the now free knife spiraling straight towards his head. He dodged it, which was becoming depressingly common at this stage, but the distraction was sufficient for me to hook his upraised knee with my other leg, locking him into place.

With a crackle of energy and a sonic boom that erupted throughout the training room, I flew myself into the ceiling at hypersonic speed.

I knew he was a warrior beyond compare, and warriors such as him did not let go of their weapons in the middle of a heated fight like ours. Consequently, his grip on his weapon did not waver, and my flight carried him with me. Lancer screamed and laughed in exultation, not a trace of fear in his voice, and a moment before I would have crashed and brained myself all across the ceiling I aborted my movement and let go of Lancer's weapon.

Lancer, of course, did not have such convenient access to computation technology and subsequently hit the ceiling with his inherited kinetic energy. Concrete collapsed and metal creaked, a small shockwave affecting the floor above us as a thunderous sound told me all I needed to know about the success of my strategy. There was a moment of silence, where I could see nothing through the cloud of dust and debris I'd created.

And then, Lancer fell to the ground.

Yet despite it all, the man was still conscious. His eyes were lit aflame, an energy and lust for battle that seemed to consume any and all rationality he may have once had. There were scratches across the top of his head, a thin layer of dust and pulverized concrete, the result of the sudden impact against the ceiling. Absurdly enough, not a single cut from the earlier explosion seemed to have graced his form. He'd managed to block every single shrapnel from that explosion, either that or he managed to dodge somehow, and while that in and of itself smelled like obscene amounts of bullshit to me, I had to concede that it was probably better to learn that now instead of at a more inappropriate time.

But that was all the least of my concerns at the moment. His grin wide, his eyes alight with bloodlust, the other Servant seemed unwilling to concede. His mouth moved, though with all the chaos I was unable to determine what exactly he said, though the effects of his words were easy enough to see. A sudden sense of bloodlust filled the room, crimson energy forming itself at the tip of his lance, which I suddenly realized was now ready in a thrown position aimed straight at me.

With a start, I recognized that he was preparing to throw his Noble Phantasm at me. A very, very, small part of my mind was quite enthused at the knowledge that whatever his secret weapon entailed, it had to do with actually throwing the weapon at his enemy. It suggested a moment of vulnerability right after using it, which meant that if he used his Noble Phantasm on one Servant, he would be vulnerable to a follow up attack from the rest of that Servant's allies. This knowledge, atop the faintly narcissistic notion that I'd managed to fight Cu Chulainn to such an extent so as to force him to use his trump card, was fairly satisfying all around and accomplished my primary objective of discovering more of Lancer's secrets.

That feeling was of secondary importance compared to the complete and utter fear that enveloped me at the sight of the weapon. This wasn't some simple blade like what Archer had used on me, or the dark weapon that Saber had wielded in her fight with me. There was an obscene level of bloodlust here, a need for death and destruction that passed whatever level of dark foreboding that Saber's own weapon possessed, the closest approximation I could think of at the moment.

I had no idea whether I'd be able to dodge it. While it was clear enough to me that whatever maneuver he was committed to was a Noble Phantasm, I wasn't clear on its type. If it was intended as an anti-personnel weapon, to completely obliterate a single person, then it was likely that replacing myself with a clone would be insufficient to deceive his offense. If his attack had an area of effect element, which is to say, it would explode on contact, then there was the brief possibility that I could still escape. Rush through the walls, use my superior speed to burst through the concrete and out to freedom. It would hurt, the human body wasn't made to break through concrete naturally after all, but it would be a damned sight better than being in the immediate aftermath of his blow.

But that was only part of my calculations. In the event that unleashing his Noble Phantasm here would result in an area of effect response, the effect would likely break the building in twain. Even assuming that it would simply pierce through all the floors above us, leaving a sizeable hole through every level, instead of simply obliterating them instead, that still meant that only most of the people above us would die, instead of just all. Then there was the fact that the explosion would create a rain of rubble and concrete onto my men below, likely severely injuring or killing them outright.

As such, there was only one move left to play. The simplest move, which would preserve my life, the Tower and that of the soldiers beneath me.

"I concede!" I yelled out, my knife evaporating into the air, my other clone disappearing into the aether. Defenseless and weaponless, making it as clear to the Child of Light that I was no longer willing to fight.

Lancer blinked, the bloodlust and excitement in his eyes replaced with confusion and disappointment. The bloodlust from his lance seemed to scream and howl, the crimson flames slowly evaporating as Lancer fell headfirst to the ground. There were a few shouts of alarm from the observing Tresillo, possibly concerned for Lancer's sake, but I didn't worry.

Moments before he would have landed on his head, Lancer shifted his form, reversing his orientation and landing with his feet on the ground, somewhat nearby the explosion I'd baited him into. I descended after him, landing gently next to the Servant as I noted the slight impact crater that his landing had etched onto the ground. Lancer held his weapon in one fist, the spear held horizontally, and I noted that the frustration I could feel emanating off the weapon was mirrored in its Master's eyes.

"That was disappointing." Lancer commented, an irritated look on his face as he resolutely faced away from me. I couldn't help but scoff aloud.

"I intended for a fairly subdued duel, Lancer." I noted wryly. Lancer laughed.

"You call that stunt with the ceiling a subdued duel?"

"Better than whatever it was you were about to do with that spear."

"Hah, you would have lived." He said, with an absolute confidence that I was not at all sure was actually true. "Maybe you would have lost an arm or a leg, if you were actually trying, but you would have lived. It would have been a much more fitting end than a fucking concede. Man, now I'm pissed."

I frowned at his choice of words, until I realized that Lancer wasn't actually looking away from me in a fit of pique. Following his gaze, I felt my heart stop as I noted him staring at the spot on the floor where I'd lured him into the explosive trap. He was studying it, the shattered concrete, the melted rock, his eyes staring at something I couldn't see.

"I disagree." I said aloud, my mind racing. Did he notice? "Besides, even if I'd survived, you would have eviscerated half the building and every member of my people on this floor. I'm not willing to fight under those conditions."

He scoffed again. "Whatever resources your Master had collected for this war, the building, the mercenaries, the guns, whatever. All of it pales in comparison to having summoned a Heroic Spirit, everything else is just so much unnecessary decoration."

He made a motion with his hand, twirling his weapon until it rested against his shoulders with a loud thwack. His eyes glanced away from the scene of the explosion, looking down towards the crack marks he'd made upon the floor during his landing. Already, the impact mark was healing, the cracked concrete closing until the damage had disappeared as though it had never been there in the first place. Lancer hummed.

"I won right? Because you conceded?" He noted, his gaze turning away from the ground and back to me. "So, you owe me a favor, right? My favor is we'll do this again. When everyone else is dead and we two are the only ones left, we're gonna have that duel and we'll end it properly. And you go all out, or your pretty little tricks aren't gonna be enough to save you."

I suppressed the chill up my spine, before nodding. "Alright."

Just like that, the air of menace that had surrounded Lancer up until now vanished, and he gave me a smile, patting me on the shoulder. "Good fight though, seriously. Great fight. I had reservations about my Master wanting to ally with a Caster of all things, but I'm glad she did. You fight like a bitch Caster. An angry, ruthless, scary bitch and I respect that. I'm really, really, really excited for our rematch now."

"Right." I said, noting the sudden feeling of vertigo and relief that washed over me at that. Lancer nodded, before his gaze shifted away from me and to something behind me. I followed his gaze, only to find the assembled mercenaries watching us both warily. Their expressions were mixed, some frightened, some disbelieving, most in awe. Little trails of dust and concrete fell from the ceiling above, the Tower laboriously repairing the damage I'd inflicted upon it.

I raised an eyebrow at the crowd, unimpressed at their reactions. What, did they think this was free entertainment or something? "Looking at something interesting?" I asked haughtily. "Debrief in ten minutes at the usual place. If you're late, I'm feeding you to our guest here. Hop to it then."

Edit 1: Adjusted some spelling mistakes