This is an original fiction, set in the Fate/Stay Night universe. Attempts have been made to explain mechanics where needed, but novices will likely be in over their head, if unfamiliar. Most parts were written by me. Saber and Lacie's parts were written by a friend in real-life, who goes by the handle RagDollPuppy. As usual with something like, this, all hail Nasu and Type-Moon, and this universe belongs to them, along with characters, names, concepts, etc., they came up with. Most characters are original. If you can look up their name and find them on Type Moon wiki, then they're not ours. Finally, please don't steal this. We'd be quite cross. If you wish to post this somewhere else, just fire me a message! I don't bite. :)

Fate/False Sacrifice

Chapter 3

The subway was abandoned, as was just right at this time of night. It was a nice place to rest for a bit after trawling through a good portion of London for the entirety of the night. Albert preferred action, and as restless as he was, it was rather tiring to not find *anything*

"Master, I have something I wish to speak to you about." Such a tone was not one that broached ignorance, even from a master that held him with the leash known as a Command Seal. "Yes…Rider?" The referral to him by class was almost a reprimand. Albert was not one that allowed any defiance in this area, at least. A magus must always appear proper.

"How have you treated your colleagues up until now?" The question certainly took him off-guard. "My…colleagues? You mean…the other magi?" Rider nodded. Charlemagnes eyes seemed to pierce through his very existence. Such a…simple question, but how much had he taken out his frustrations on those people? How much had he gone against the ideal he held in his heart, to follow the ideal that that strongest of traditions, a magus family, demanded from him?

"I…" The question pierced exactly home. He had thought of this Holy Grail War as something to escape what he was before, but being reminded of it now… "I…was horrible to them." It was the honest truth. A lesser being, a being that wasn't this great Heroic Spirit wouldn't have gotten this sort of response from Albert.

It was Charlemagnes words that brought him back to the real-world, cursing his own incompetence at not noticing. At least, that was, until he saw who it was that had intruded upon their conversation. The lack of people in the subway suddenly made much more sense.

"Stand behind me, Master, I won't let this cur touch you." The man in Japanese dress across from them seemed like a thug to Albert. That unshaven face, and the fluid way he carried himself. He didn't even need to see the katana to know that it was a servant. He had heard about how Assassin could be summoned as a different person than The Man Under the Hill now, with this Holy Grail War where restrictions were lifted for some unknown purpose.

But, the next action took him off-guard. The mans voice was nonchalant, yet, steely. It was hard to pin down in Alberts mind, but the content was what surprised him, not the tone. "No, I have no interest in your master, Rider, just you. Will you have an honorable duel with me?" They were words unsuited to someone who seemed to be of the class Assassin. Was he actually from one of the Knight classes? Archer?

Albert opened his mouth to speak, but the rattle of Charlemagnes sheath silenced him. There was no other challenge, just a pointed sword. "I see, Rider. Then, no more words are necessary." They said this, but they didn't even move to strike. The hundred feet between them seemed to stretch out forever.

It started with a simple move from Charlemagne. He had a simple style, owing to the no-nonsense fighting of the west. It was a fight of endurance in the west. But here, he was fighting against someone who fought with skill, and grace.

It was almost an even fight, even with an Assassin who was holding back his power. What he lacked in strength, he made up for in pure advantage of agility. He could not make many strikes, but any was more than what Charlemagne could score on this servant. Rider's endurance was A class, something that would take a long time to whittle down, but without the unleashing of a Noble Phantasm, it was clear that Assassin would win.

The exchange was almost too fast for him to see any of this. He could interfere with magic, but…such a thing would be dishonorable. Charlemagne would not approve of such an action. And, after all, the fantasy of a hero, did not Charlemagne fit such a description? When Assassins sword struck that weak-point of every armor in the armpit, it was the hardest not to interfere

It came to a temporary end when Assassin flung himself backwards, using Charlemagnes own incredible force as a propellant. Only such a skilled servant could do so without sacrificing their life. "Charlemagne, you are truly formidable. So, I beg you to forgive me for this next transact…"

The sound that came next made Albert sure of his mistake. He had been too focused on the battle between these two, and had not noticed even that raging giant come this close. "MASTER!" Charlemagne cried out, realizing what was to take place. The identity of the servant was glaringly obvious, even in that split second.

Berserker. Albert had let Berserker of all servants sneak up to him. To not only find himself so off-guard by Charlemagnes question that he would be ambushed not once, but twice. It was unthinkable for a magus. It was unthinkable for a magus to even be perturbed by that question at all.

Albert had only one reprieve, that is, the Magic Crest available to him, opening up the extra Circuit on his left arm. The outflow of energy was just enough to propel him backwards as the sword smashed into the ground where he had been. His training as a magus had allowed himself at least that reprieve from death.

Perhaps in some sort of movie, he would emerge unscathed, but as it was, chips of stone cut him all across his body. He landed bad, rolling and hitting the wall of the subway with force that was too close to his breaking point. As the dust settled, he saw Charlemagne facing off against a monster, which he had only glimpsed before. Berserker's appearance was not one Charlemagne was familiar with, but it was something that he knew to be powerful.

Where Assassin had been winning through agility, Berserker was one who excelled in every area. An indomitable maelstrom of death, now focused on Rider. Events had progressed in a way for him to finally, interminably, inevitably, lose and die.

He couldn't accept this turn of events. He couldn't accept losing. Berserker was something that his idea of a true magus could defeat. But…that inevitable death was fast approaching, in contradiction to his fantasy of power. His thoughts were stuck on that one thing. He would die.

And there was one path out. A path that same true magus wouldn't dare to take. If he could merely escape, he could live to fight again another day. He had the Magic Crest that would allow him to find a perfect vector for escape, and all he had to rely on, was the rapidly dwindling time Rider had.

Charlemagne possessed the twin to Durandal, the peerless sword, and like Durandal, its sharpness would never fade. This translated to a tool that allowed Rider to survive for the few seconds Albert had spent standing up, both his body and mind struggling to keep up.

Now was the moment of truth, would he run, and betray that idea of a true magus, or stay and die? It was not even really a choice, despite how his heart seemed to cry out at this. He had to run. The prana bursts from his legs carried him out of the subway, first to the stairwell, then out of it, landing hard again, and rolling. His legs screamed out for release, but he kept on going.

But…more disturbing, was the sense he got from Rider. He was on the verge of defeat down there. Was he not able to make an escape? In that case, there was only one way to secure a future for Albert's Holy Grail War.

"Rider…Charlemagne. By the power invested in me, with this Command Spell, I order you, retreat to my sanctum…immediately!" The command spells were the last resort, and that was exactly what he was at. To lose Rider was not something he could afford, no matter whether he got away alive or not.

His footsteps continued to echo out through the moonlit night air. London wasn't exactly the best place for clean breathing, but the coolness of it seemed to seep into him. His burning legs, which screamed out for release, were bleeding, he realized. Had he run far enough?

He came to a stop, staring backwards down the road. There was nobody there. Now, to just make his way back home…

The unexpected resistance hit him suddenly. The weight of a katana against his neck immediately told him that if he moved an inch further, he would die. "Looks like your servant is gone. Berserker was reigned back as well, so it is only the two of us…Albert, it was? That blonde hair can't be mistaken, among the masters."

Albert was frozen, completely and totally. He had forgotten entirely about Assassin. In the previous Holy Grail Wars, Assassin had been the class adept at taking out masters, and that had changed little now, though this Assassin was much more versatile. "Well, you've caught me. Kill me."

"No." The assassin shook his head, though Albert couldn't see it. "In fact, my master's called me back. She's quite a troublesome young woman. What I'm doing now is telling you, don't get too cocky." The pressure behind him disappeared. Only one real thought could pass through his mind. What the hell had just happened?