Chapter 2: To Ride the Clouds

Mitsuomi Tanaka sat at his desk, holding his chin in his hand. Behind the lenses of his half-frame glasses, the Investigator's eyes were hard and pensive. Reflected in the glass, Lancer was reclining in her own chair.

"I'm still..." he said, attempting to figure out just what was happening. "How did I even manage to summon you? And why me?"

"Well accomplished or not, you're clearly a Mage," she smiled, in reply. "The Grail... It reacts to an overwhelming need or desire. Those with stronger emotions are more likely to be chosen. As for how you managed... I heard you, when the summoning occurred. You spoke the words of the ritual— well, some of them anyway." Folding her arms over her chest, the redhead lifted one eyebrow. "Which explains my improper materialisation."

"Improper?"

"My Mana reserves aren't as high as they should be," she admitted, shrugging halfheartedly. "And I can't seen to take spirit form... But I can still use my Noble Phantasm."

"What's a Noble Phantasm?"

This time Lancer let out a boisterous belly-laugh. "You really don't have a clue, do you?"

Mitsuomi turned away to hide his blush.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Lancer chuckled, waving her hand about. "I didn't mean anything by it, okay." Leaning forwards, she tapped her index finger on the desk. "Listen... Anything you want to know, I'll teach you. We're in this together."

Flicking his eyes back to the woman, the young man lowered his brows.

"Don't you want to know what I wanted?" he suddenly asked. "You said the Grail responds to a desire or need... Aren't you curious about what it was I wanted so desperately that I was able to summon you?"

"Everyone wants something," she replied. "Whatever it is is your business. You'll tell me if and when you want to. So there's no sense in prying."

"That's very..." He struggled for a word. "Diplomatic."

"What can I say, I'm used to dealing with strong-willed men." Lancer winked at Mitsuomi. "Determined fools who want to be heroes. I know what makes you tick."

The Investigator didn't know whether to take the statement as a compliment or some kind of jape at his expense. Ever since the strange woman had appeared, Mitusomi found himself second guessing almost everything. She had claimed to be his Servant, but he knew that he shouldn't push his luck or take their partnership lightly. Lancer was dangerous, and whether that was good for him or not still remained to be seen. The one thing he was glad of, however, was that she seemed willing to answer his questions.

"So what are the rules for this 'War'?" he asked. "How do I win? What's even the point of winning?"

"You win by being the last one left standing," Lancer responded. "Seven Masters and seven Servants compete with each other to the death to win the Holy Grail. And if you win — when you win — you get any wish you want. Anything at all. Even and especially whatever it was you wanted when you summoned me." She leaned back again and began to play with the ends of her long red hair. "As for the rules... We gather in Fuyuki — which, funnily enough, is right here — and fight the others. To the death, usually. Although it's ultimately a lot more complicated than that. This is one of those things where straight up strength just isn't going to cut it. You need to be smart."

"How so?"

"The other Masters and Servants may not exactly get on as well as we do. Not to mention... We will need to figure out who the other competitors are. Identify the Masters and discover the identities of the other Heroic Spirits." Glancing across the room, her eyes hardened. "Fighting them head on without knowing that is equatable to suicide. Heroic Spirits are monsters... Far stronger than even the highest class of Mage."

Mitsuomi scratched the side of his head, parting his neatly styled hair. "If they're so strong, why don't they just kill their Masters? Especially if you're saying they don't always see eye to eye."

"Masters are a Mana source for the Servant," Lancer explained. "If the Master dies, there's nothing to keep the Servant anchored to this world." She pointed at Mitsuomi's hand and grinned. "That and there are those marks on your hand."

Mitsuomi looked down and stared at the symbol one more time. Blood red, it seemed as if it were carved into his very skin.

"They're called Command Spells," she continued. "Physical embodiments of spells for absolute obedience. You only get three, but each one lets you completely control your servant. No questions asked." A playful smile danced across her lips. "You could order me to kill myself right now, and I'd have no choice but to do it."

Again taking a second to himself, Mitsuomi carefully watched the woman. She seemed strangely at ease with him, despite knowing that he could effectively kill her whenever he wanted. Almost as if she could tell what he was thinking; know that he had no intention of hurting her.

She was also confident. More so than anyone he had ever met in his life. However, that wasn't to say that she was without charm.

Mitsuomi typically found forceful and pushy women intimidating, preferring girls that were cute and submissive. But there was something about Lancer that drew him to her. Almost as if she had an innate appeal to her that was impossible to identify.

He wondered if the allure was some kind of power she possessed as a Heroic Spirit.

"So who are you?" he asked. "Or who were you?"

"You're starting to get the hang of this."

"I just figured that if we're going to make a strategy, we need to know what each other can do."

Lancer smiled playfully. "So what can you do?"

"No," Mitsuomi replied. "We're talking about you."

"You know, I'm starting to like you." She clapped her hands on her knees and sat up straight. "Fine, I'll tell you. My name is Scathach, a hero from the Ulster Cycle. I am the woman who trained the legendary Cu Chulainn."

Reaching out to the side, Lancer began to slowly rotate her arm. Materialising out of thin air, a bright red spear appeared and sank down into the floor. Light from the ceiling panels licked against it and glittered out into the air.

"And this is [Gae Bolg]," she explained. "Made from the bone of a sea monster, it's the spear of perfect accuracy, and certain death. No matter what, it will always pierce the target's heart."

"That sounds pretty powerful," Mitusomi admitted.

"But the conditions need to be right," Lancer added. "It takes quite a lot of Mana to use. And if another Servant uses their Noble Phantasm, it is possible to block it."

"So it's not foolproof," Mitsuomi muttered. "What kind of power could block it?"

"Artefacts similar to the spear, or legendary weapons, like Excalibur," she elaborated. "And coming across something like that is unlikely, but possible."

Mitsuomi reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a notepad and pen. After scribbling down a few words and phrases. Pushing his glasses back up his nose, he eyed the Heroic Spirit in front of him.

"What about outrunning it?" he asked. "If there's a chance to block the spear, no matter how small, surely there's also a chance that it could be dodged?"

Lancer shook her head. "Not possible."

"You're positive about that?"

"Definitely. The spear never misses. Even if it doesn't manage to pierce the target's skin, it is always on target. The only thing that could counteract it would be a God. Or something owned by one at least."

"So there's no way that a Heroic Spirit could be a God? Or have a weapon owned by one?"

"Heroic Spirits are individuals who have had their names carved onto the Throne of Heroes. A hero is by definition mortal, so Gods don't qualify. As for the weapon... There are plenty of objects floating around that were made by Gods, but very few designed to be owned by and used by them. As far as I'm aware, all of them are locked away in vaults in Heaven. And only a lunatic would try and steal something from there." Gazing to the side, she stared out of the window. "Plus, Noble Phantasms are the physical embodiment of a Hero's legend. I doubt Godly Weapons would qualify for anybody." Her gaze remained distant as she spoke the next words. "Out of all potential Heroic Spirits I've heard of, I can't think of a single one who would have a Noble Phantasm from the Vault of Gods."

Cedric El-Aurum stared dumbfounded into the magic circle, drawn from the blood of the rabbits he had piled behind him. In front of him stood no Heroic Spirit. The space ahead instead held absolutely nothing.

Hurriedly glancing down at his hand, his eyes picked out the red markings of his Command Spells.

Which means I am a Master... he thought. But then where is my Servant...?

"Wow! That was some trip!"

Eyes snapping up, Cedric spotted a figure hanging from the ceiling. Dangling from one of the light fixtures, the individual swept one hand back through its hair before dropping to the floor.

Tall and trim, the Servant took the form of an unassuming young man. Sharply spiked dark brown hair hung around his face in choppy locks, the fringe covering the entire of his forehead. His face was chiseled and attractive, bearing a dark tan that almost seemed to blend with his long sideburns. Flashing out from between his thin lips, his teeth were neatly straight and bright white, contrasting with his dark eyes. Cheerful and still, his eyes bore no irises, consisting instead of large black pupils. He wore a streamlined black jacket, trimmed with gold, and a pair of loose-fitting turquoise trousers.

"I didn't expect to end up here though," the Servant continued, placing his hands on his hips and beginning to pace and examine the surroundings. Picking up a thick tome set down upon a bordering table, he flicked through the pages. "Everything is so stuffy and dusty. I need some fresh air!"

Not even giving his master a chance to respond, the Heroic Spirit leapt into the air and broke through the nearest window. Grabbing hold of the frame above him, he swung up and began to scale the side of the building.

Rushing over to the smashed glass, Cedric leaned out into the open air and stared up at the spec of his Servant disappearing up the spire. Reaching the roof, the Heroic Spirit kicked off and rocketed upwards, landing on an overhanging rock of the mountain that the research centre had been built into the side of.

Damn it, he's impulsive... Cedric thought, nervously. But it's okay... He can't get too far away from me. As soon as he moves outside of the range of my Mana, he'll return to spirit form and have to come back.

But the Servant didn't de-materialise. He continued to move, scaling the side of the mountain at a rapid pace.

Cedric felt his heart lurch in his chest.

Independent Action?! Squinting his eyes, Cedric hurriedly assessed his Servant's stats. A+ ranked?! But how? He's only Rider Class! Only the Archer should have this level of the skill! This is bad...

Panicking, the Mage lifted his hand and pointed it at his Servant's back. Had logic not restrained him, he would have unwittingly used one of his precious Command Spells.

No... Wait it out. He'll be back eventually. I knew something like this would happen when I decided to summon him of all people.

All of a sudden, a crack of lightning lanced off of the side of the mountain. A split second later, Cedric felt something move past him at high speed.

"Jheeze! Cold up there!" Rider laughed, appearing back in the centre of the room, cloaked in a veil of static electricity. "Windy too!" Striding over to Cedric, the young man looped one arm around his Master's neck and began to playfully snap the strap of his suspenders. "Gotta say though, didn't expect this place to be in a mountain range. Where are we, anyway?"

"The Sea of Estray," Cedric replied, brushing off his Servant's arm and starting to clear away his scrolls and books. "A branch of the Mage Association. Right now, we're in the middle of an enormous wandering mountain range."

Rider whistled between his teeth, impressed.

"The War itself won't be here, though," he continued. "It's held in an eastern city; Fuyuki."

"Sounds fun," Rider chuckled. "When do we leave?"

"I still need to gather and prepare a few things... But I should be ready by tomorrow morning. Then I'll book a plane ticket under a fake name and-"

"Nope."

The Servant interrupted him in such a dismissive and lighthearted manner, it took Cedric a moment to register what he had just said. "What?"

"Why do you want to get a plane when you have me?" Rider asked, playfully. "I can get you there myself, no muss, no fuss. And no paper trail, or witnesses. Win, win, win, win!"

"While I admire your enthusiasm, I don't think even you would be able to- WHOA!"

Rider grabbed hold of his Master, while he was still in the middle of talking, and launched them out of the shattered window, lightning trailing in their wake. The mountainous scenery rushed beneath them in a grey blur, soon replaced by the flickering green of trees and the sparkling blue of water.

Within seconds, the pair had touched down in the middle of a snow-dusted forest.

Released from the grip of his Servant, Cedric stumbled across the ground and whipped his head around at the scenery. "This is... The Black Forest... Germany!"

"And you didn't think I could do it," Rider laughed, stretching his hands out to his sides. "I can get you into Fuyuki without anyone even knowing how or from where."

Clicking his heels together, a metallic sound filled the air. Looking down at his Servant's feet, Cedric realised that the boots he wore were constructed from solid gold.

"With my Noble Phantasm [Kinto-Un], I can travel halfway around the world in a single leap," Rider chuckled. "Or are you trying to say that you summoned me without even knowing that much about me?" He winked. "Don't worry... As long as you have Sun-Wukong by your side, you have nothing to fear."