Chapter 4: Declaration of War
Enrique Aleghieri walked the streets of Fuyuki, flicking his eyes around the numerous buildings. All around him, pedestrians stepped out of his way and watched him with wide eyes. Across the road, a gaggle of teenage girls cried out and began to point.
Draped in a grey hoodie and a pair of light blue jeans, he made every effort to appear inconspicuous, however given his appearance this effort was futile. With his dark tanned skin and natural blonde hair, he stuck out like a sore thumb.
His gait laboured by fatigue, Enrique's pace was slow and lurching. Ever since he had summoned his Servant, the young man had felt like all of his energy was being gradually sapped away. Worse than that, it took every ounce of his concentration to stop his limbs from trembling. A side-effect of anchoring his Servant was a constant and persistent pain across his entire body, that gripped him like a vice. It felt as if all of his nerve-endings were being dipped into boiling water.
But that's fine... he thought. I can endure this much. Berserker is the strongest Servant class, so this is only natural...
If he could help it, he made sure to keep the Heroic Spirit in his spirit form as much as possible. Enrique knew that if he kept Berserker materialised too much then it would exhaust his already limited Mana supplies.
Still... I managed to summon Him, Enrique thought, with a grin. The drain is more than worth it. Without a doubt, I have the strongest Heroic Spirit in the War.
Casting his mind back, he thought of the moment he first laid eyes on Berserker. Even standing still, and despite his relatively short stature, the Servant radiated strength and intimidation. A shock of black hair and a thick beard clung to hard and blunt features, while out of his face stared white pupil-less eyes. His body, covered by thick and mottled black-red skin, was chiselled and hard with defined muscles. Strangely calm looking for a Berserker, his expression was distant yet strong; as if he were staring down the maw of the universe.
Even as he walked through Fuyuki, Enrique could remember it as clear as day. It still sent a shiver across his skin.
His years of searching for the relic had more than paid off. It had taken every resource that he could scavenge and dig up just to catch a whiff of it. His one saving grace was that none of the other Masters would even consider summoning Him as a Servant for the War.
In fact, he thought. I bet none of the other Masters would even consider Him qualified to be a Heroic Spirit.
Glancing up at the sky, his eyes gained a remote distance to them. In his mind, clockwork thoughts ticked over his options.
Now... It's just a case of finding them. And then Berserker can slaughter them all.
The gears of his brain froze, locking onto a singular thought. A smile gripped his trembling lips, pulling them back over the flat enamel of his teeth.
Unless I bring them to me.
Limping around the corner of the busy city street, Isaac gripped his side tenderly and readjusted the backpack that he wore with the other hand. Turning right, he began to cross through the city, making his way uphill.
A fair distance up the incline, he subtly turned around and looked over the landscape. In the distance, he could see the outline of a series of mansions. Eyes glued to the large houses, he whispered under his breath.
"Tousaka..."
"I can see at least six different kinds of spiritual barrier, set up around one of the houses," Archer said, his voice echoing inside Isaac's head. "Nothing is getting in there unless he wants it to."
"I wouldn't expect anything else," Isaac sighed, grimacing as he gripped his wound. Despite the benefit of time to heal, the wound was still straining his makeshift stitches. He needed to take things easy, lest he risk ripping it open again. "How many familiars do you see?"
"Twelve," Archer replied. "No, wait... Fourteen."
Isaac was thankful for his Servant's keen eyesight. Had Archer not been so adept at long-range recognisance, he likely would have tried to break into the estate, only to be killed the instant he was detected.
"Whoever he is, he knows what he's doing," the Heroic Spirit continued. "He's probably not going to venture far from the stronghold, unless he senses a battle. And then only once he's sure that it's over, so that he can take out the winner. I've seen types like him before."
"Which means we're going to have to wait for someone else to die, before I can get a shot at him..." Isaac muttered.
"So that's the plan?"
"No," the Master replied, bluntly. "I don't like the idea of using someone else as bait. We need to figure out a way to get inside the Mansion without alerting him. Catch him by surprise and hit him where he lives. He won't be expecting that."
"Because it's next to impossible," the Servant retorted. "While I am impressed and quite taken with your sense of chivalry, I would like to reaffirm my strengths as an Archer. I'm not particularly skilled at infiltration. If you want to break into there, you would be better off with an Assasin Class Servant."
"What ever happened to the title: Prince of Thieves?" Isaac asked, coyly.
"Nobody ever called me that to my face," Archer replied, his disembodied voice bearing a hint of a chuckle to it. "And, anyway, my Stealth was only impressive by human standards. Against magic like that, I'd be next to useless."
Isaac hummed pensively. "Any chance that we could snipe him?"
"That's a definite possibility," Archer replied. "With my Noble Phantasm, I'd be able to shoot through those barriers no problem. The only issue is... If I do use it, there's going to be a bloom of Mana. And a pretty big one too. Meaning that if I don't move quickly after I make the shot, we're an easy target for somebody."
"Not if we pick a good spot in the first place." Isaac turned and swung his vision over the city. "Like the top of a building, somewhere." Squinting his eyes, he nodded towards a skyscraper. "That looks like it could work well for us."
Archer appeared the ponder the option for a second. When he finally did speak, his voice bore a concerned edge to it. "With all due respect... Are you sure that it's wise for you to accompany me? As an Archer, I have the skill of Independent Action. I could take up watch, and make the shot while you hide out somewhere. Then if I am attacked in the aftermath, you would at least be safe."
"No..." Isaac replied, his voice heavy. "I'm not going to do that. I'm not some coward that would run and hide while someone else puts their life on the line for me. So sorry. No can do." Turning away from the Tousaka mansion, he continued on his way up the hill. "You and I... We're in this together. I promised you that I would do right by you, after you saved my life. And I don't break my promises."
"You're an honourable man." The Servant's voice sounded impressed.
Isaac shook his head. "No. I'm a fool. But I'm a fool who sticks to his principles."
Archer allowed himself an impressed hum. When he was summoned into the material world, to fight for the Grail, he did not expect his Master to be quite so accommodating. In fact, as things stood, the man didn't even have a desire for the wish-granting relic. Instead, all he wanted was revenge against the man who crossed him and left him for dead.
And with that Archer could empathise. He knew all too well the spurring power of revenge. The desire to right a wrong slighted against you.
In a way, Isaac reminded him a lot of himself. The man held a strong moral code; something that seemed he would never waver from, even given the threat of his own death.
He was glad that his Master was the man that he was.
Still preoccupied with considering his Master, Archer only just realised a subtle shift in the atmosphere. From spirit form, he saw a flash of movement dart between the rooftops above. Expecting an enemy, he prepared to return to physical form. However, something about the presence restrained him. It didn't feel threatening or malevolent, as an enemy should have done.
It perplexed him, leaving Archer with a vague sense of intrigue.
As Isaac turned down onto an empty street, Archer materialised beside him. His blonde shock of hair caught the wind, fluttering around his face as he took a step forwards. Having changed from his traditional attire, he wore a simple white shirt and jeans.
"I'm going to scout on ahead," he said. "You continue back to our lodging. I'll meet you there shortly."
"Is something wrong?" Isaac asked nervously, pausing as he darted his eyes about.
"I'm not sure..." Archer replied. "Like I said, you continue back. It's probably nothing."
Isaac opened his mouth to protest, but didn't manage to get a sentence out. He was cut off as Archer leapt into the air and scaled the side of an overlooking building.
Reaching the top, Archer began to leap between the roofs, following the trail left by the strange presence. Every so often, he spied something moving at high speed, but was unable to define its features. This fact, given his extraordinary eyesight, unnerved him.
After a way the buildings thinned, giving rise to the clear expanse of an inner city park. Several trees dotted the area, and erected in the centre was a humble wooden veranda.
Having lost sight of his target, Archer leapt down into the park and began to quickly dart his eyes about, from beneath the shadow of a tree.
The sound of a playful whistle drew his attention up.
Hanging upside down, his legs wrapped around the branch of the tree, was a tanned young man. His hair was dark and he wore a black t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Beaming from his face was a playful grin.
"How's it goin' down there, blondie?"
Instinct taking over, Archer jumped back and prepared for a fight. Lifting one hand, he prepared to summon his bow, when the young man raised his own hands in surrender.
"No, no! I don't wanna fight!"
"What?"
The young man broke into a bashful grin. "I said I don't want to fight." Releasing the branch, he flipped over midair and landed in a crouching position. "I just thought I'd say hello. Y'know, so we can get to know each other."
"But you're a Heroic Spirit," Archer persisted. "Isn't fighting supposed to be what we do?"
"Weeeeell..." He stretched out the word and scratched at the side of his head. "I guess so. But my Master hasn't told me I need to fight you specifically. And I guess it's the same for you? So how 'bout for now, we just call a truce? Be friends?" The young man cocked his head to the side and flashed another smile.
"You want to be my friend?"
"Yeah," he replied, holding out one hand. "I'm Rider. Nice to meet'cha."
Archer eyed the appendage for a good while before clasping it and responding in kind. "Archer."
"See, don't that feel much better than us fighting it out?" Rider said, shaking his hand enthusiastically. "We're both in the same boat now, so figured it'd be good to get to know the company. After all, it don't look like we're gonna be here very long. Might as well enjoy the time we have here, while it lasts."
Archer raised an eyebrow. The other Servant was not at all what he expected. "You're... Strangely optimistic."
Rider shrugged. "Guess I have to be. No sense in bein' anythin' else."
"I guess not."
"So." Rider clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back against the trunk of the tree. "Guessin' your Master's around here somewhere? Mine's back in the other half of the city. Couldn't take bein' locked up in that room, so thought I'd get some fresh air."
"He's..." Archer hesitated, still wary of the strange individual. "Around."
The tanned young man hummed. "Your's got a wish for the Grail too? It's all mine goes on about. Says he wants to win it to prove himself, or somethin'."
"Not really," Archer replied, finally relaxing somewhat. "It's strange. My Master doesn't seem very interested in winning the War at all."
"Sounds like a weird guy." Rider stuck a finger in his ear and absent-mindedly began to glance around the park. "But I dunno... Interesting. Probably better than my guy."
"You don't like your Master very much?"
"Eh, it's not that I don't like him," Rider said, dismissively. "He's just a bit boring. I mean, he's got a goal; he wants to win. But... A bit highly strung, y'know?"
"I think I know the type." Archer shifted in place and folded his arms over his chest. "But what about you? Don't you want to win?"
Rider pulled his finger out of his ear and inspected the tip. "Kinda... I guess I just wanna have fun." He straightened up and locked eyes with Archer, a smile again spreading across his face. "Make some friends. Fight strong guys."
"Careful what you wish for," Archer replied, with a grin.
"See," Rider laughed. "Now you're gettin' the hang of it. At first I was a bit worried the other guys weren't gonna be that nice. Or fun. You proved me wrong. Good on ya'."
"Thanks for the compliment. Am I the first one you've met?"
"I've seen one or two around," Rider replied, slyly. "Didn't really stop to chat though. They all seemed pretty busy. Saw an old guy in a mask hangin' around on the rooftops a while ago, and didn't wanna disturb him."
"Assasin?"
"Yeah. I think so."
"And where was that?"
Rider laughed. "Nu-uh. Not gonna tell ya' that. That cheatin'. You wanna know where he is, you gotta figure that out. I'm just here for a chat is all."
Archer smiled. "You're really sticking to this whole truce thing, huh?"
"If I broke my word, what would I be?" Rider again shrugged and scratched his head.
"Pretty terrible at truces," Archer replied, smirking.
Breaking into a boisterous laugh, Rider clapped. "Got it in one! Y'know, I really like you, Blondie."
Beginning to pace, Rider started to circle the tree. As he did so, he once again locked his fingers behind his head. His gaze was distant, as if he were staring at something off in the distance.
Orange light began to seep through the park, as the sun started to sink below the horizon. Warmth overtook the two men and a warm breeze lapped at their bodies.
"See, we can be civil and have a good time. What's the point in seeing everyone as an enemy? None of us are fighting because we don't like the other; we're only doing it because those are the rules. As long as we aren't ordered to fight, we can be friends. Even if we are ordered to." He grinned, still gazing off at nothing in particular. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't wanna fight you. So when it comes to it, we can still have a good time."
"Someone's a bit of a fighting junkie," Archer smirked.
Rider finally looked back at him and returned the teasing smile. "I like a challenge."
The young man's attention suddenly flicked sideways, darting in the direction of the river. Archer sensed it as well. He figured that every other Master and Heroic Spirit felt it too.
"Speaking of..." Rider chuckled, excitement brewing behind his boyish features.
"Someone's setting up a beacon," Archer completed.