All the Servants had manifested, and the War was ready to begin in earnest. All was quiet in front of the Tohsaka estate, its fountain elegantly distributing streams of water.
Until it exploded.
More accurately, a bolt of energy shot down from the sky at an angle and exploded. Fragments of rock, plaster and other debris scattered around and fires began in various patches of the yard. Into this inferno strode a hellish figure in red, bow in hand. His face was obscured by a very ornate looking helm, but no one would mistake him for anything but the Servant Archer. He strode through the now-destroyed defense grid like nothing, and just as he was about to reach the door spun and nocked an arrow. He twiched his bow and knocked what appeared to be a throwing knife out of the air, then bucked forward and fell on his face, five more protruding from his back.
From the shadows behind him strode Servant Assassin, whose expression was unreadable behind his skull-like mask.
"Pathetic. Is this the best you could have done?" He unceremoniously produced a knife and cut off the head, helmet and all, of his fallen foe. Blood spattered and the helmet rolled down into the crater where the fountain used to be. Assassin stood back up, and gave a short bow. As he faded from view, he let forth one final taunt to the watchers.
"Would anyone else like to challenge my shadows?"
No master approached the Church to seek sanctuary that night, and the Grail War went on.
The next evening, Archer crouched on top of a building. It was, currently, the highest point in town. He had monitored the city as best he could, but his view wasn't ideal for seeing most of the more distant streets. None of the mattered, however, when he caught sight of someone who could only be Saber.
Memories flashed in his head. The night in his shed. The figure in the moonlight. The face he thought he'd never see again. He shook his head suddenly to snap himself out of his nostalgia.
She was escorting . . .
An adult Ilya? No. This would be . . . Irisviel. But why is Saber with her?
Hundreds of possibilities flashed in his head.
Assume Kiritsugu is as good as I am.
A dozen possibilities remained.
Remember, he's just a self-proclaimed magic-user, not a mage.
A combination of decoy, prana-battery, and Saber-management system. Perfect.
I couldn't imagine the old man getting along with her anyway. This explains much of why he 'won' regardless. Wait, but Irisviel would be the . . .
Archer blanched a bit as he understood just what this cheerful woman with Saber represented with regards to Kiritsugu.
I need to confirm some things before I act. As such, I have to assume Kiritsugu is operating on the precise level I am. This changes everything.
He watched as Irisviel played a bit in the water, and then stopped as Saber became aware of something and called her back. She was looking in the direction of . . .
Tch. The shipping docks. I have no angle. I can move faster in physical form, but . . .
He was still technically dead, as far as the other Masters were concerned. He was absolutely intent on cashing in that check at an opportune time. For now, needed to move.
Lancer and Saber's duel was proceeding in earnest. Archer was on top of the nearby crane in spirit form, looking over the scene. From here he could see everything, including Kiritsugu lurking in the shadows. Kiritsugu and . . . someone else. A woman. Both armed, and drawing a bead on Lancer's Master. What neither of them could see was the blob of what looked like mercury sitting inertly behind said Master.
The crashing and clashing of weapons ceased for a moment as Saber and Lancer exchanged more words.
Heh. Chatty as always. Real heroes can afford to be talkative, I guess. Time for work. He ducked behind the framework and materialized. Three swords appeared lying next to him.
This part needs proper timing . . . and wind measurement. A waste of prana, perhaps, but worth it.
Before he could move, what could only be described as stupidity happened. Rider made his grand entrance, and a quick one-act of idiots began to play out below him.
Enough foolishness.
He scooped up the first sword, held it for a few seconds, and set it back down. The second he grabbed, nocked, aimed at a high angle, waited . . . and let fly. Quickly he grabbed and shot the third much lower. He grabbed the first sword, a Caladbolg II, and charged it the rest of the way up to the breaking point while aiming. At some point during this process he noted that Lancer's identity had been announced. He locked his gaze on Lancer's Master, and waited for Kiritsugu and his associate to take the shot. He was aware that Saber and Lancer had both chastised Rider indignantly. He was aware that Saber had taken a wrist wound and was clandestinely favoring it. He was aware that a dark figure had just leapt up on the girder beside him and was closing with him quickly-
Ah-
Archer's next three seconds were somewhat of a blur. He had been thrown- no, punched. Punched, and sent flying.
And he seemed to be missing his 'arrow.'
In the Tohsaka residence, Tokiomi sighed while briefly resting his head in one hand.
Kayneth Archibald El-Melloi felt as if the chill of death had had him in its grasp, then passed. He shook it off and focused once more on the farce below him.
Kiritsugu Emiya whirled around at the sound of a soft 'thunk' behind him, rifle pointed down at what he found. His heart skipped a beat and he started to move, then froze again.
"Iri."
Archer tumbled in the air listlessly, dispassionately deciding that regaining his control at anything before the last possible second may invite extra attention from his assailant.
"Trace, on."
"The Heroic Spirits invited by the Holy Grail, gather here at this moment! For those cowards that fear to show their faces, spare yourself the humiliation that Alexander, King of Conquerors, would deal to you. Prepare yourself!"
Saber and Lancer gaped openmouthed at the gigantic man, then quickly tensed and spun as they felt another servant rapidly approaching-
-and both blinked as a red shape crashed into the roof of the building on their left (not ten feet from Lancer's Master), then burst out of the side of said building at the same angle, folded into something of a roll, and hit the already-damaged shipping container on their right, finally coming to rest in sort of a casual sitting sprawl on the newly-forged 'throne' where once a vertical wall of metal stood.
Sighing heavily, Archer looked up and took in his audience. He raised a hand in greeting.
"Yo."
Before Saber could respond, she spun to her left and raised her guard as something flew directly at her from the same direction that the man in red came from. She felt the impact on her blade, and LEAPED backwards on instinct, but was confused as whatever the projectile had been shattered into shards that quickly dissolved. Lancer had likewise dodged, but in the direction of his master, who was now obviously no longer in as good of cover as he'd thought he'd been.
Both knights looked up at the black figure standing tall high above. Saber caught some motion in her peripheral vision, and saw something coming down above Irisviel's head. She lunged towards her surrogate Master. She suddenly understood what had just happened and cursed her foolishness.
"IRISVIEL!"
Iri blinked at Saber's outburst and didn't have time to respond before she felt the impact on her head, and all went dark.
"..Ow!"
Iri pulled her hat back up from where it had gotten knocked in front of her face. On the ground next to her was a large foam toy sword. She blinked and the sudden wind as Saber, who had released her Invisible Air for propulsion, skidded to a halt in front of her. They both gazed down at the toy, which shattered and vanished. Saber's face cycled between relief, then confusion, then disbelief.
Archer took a deep breath. And now to earn my Academy Award.
"Pfft."
Saber turned towards the faint sound, slowly.
"Heh. Ha, ha-ah."
Her expression began to harden.
"Oh, man. The look on your face!"
She began to march forward.
"Honestly, the free ticket on Berserk Airlines wasn't part of the plan, and that big shot was intended to distract Lancer instead, but the rest of it went off without a hitch!"
The man in red hadn't even tried to stand up, or even contain his laughter. On the roof by his Master, Lancer's look of confusion had morphed into a frown, and Rider had one eyebrow raised.
"I mean, really. Did either of you-" his words were cut off as he was faced with the tip of Excalibur, as Saber loomed over him with murder in her eyes.
"Are you making a fool of me?" Her gaze was ice, and not even her injured wrist would stop her from slicing his neck.
The man in red returned her gaze with a beaming smile.
"Yes. Yes Arturia, King of Knights, King of the Britains, dragon-aspected lord of the Round Table and wielder of Excalibur. Yes I am."
Her eyes narrowed to slits.
"Tell me your name, cur, so I know the nature of the blood I'll be wiping off my blade."
The red knight's smile vanished, and his next words carried a tone to match hers.
"Is that the way you thank the one who did you such a service, oh honorable knight?"
Arturia didn't blink.
"What service? Oh, don't tell me you refer to relieving me of the heavy burden of the air trapped around my blade. Or is it something even more idiotic?"
"The service of graciously showing you a gap in your defenses, while generously sparing the lives of your master and friend."
Saber's breath stopped. The tip of her blade quivered slightly as she realized the full extent of what had just been done to her. No one else around noticed the particular emphasis and meaning of that sentence. And, she could not deny, if that sword had not been a toy . . .
She clenched her teeth.
She took in a single, shuddering breath.
Archer maintained his glare and did not blink, as a single bead of sweat rolled down into one eye.
She released her breath, and suddenly her expression was an angelic smile.
"My thanks for your noble act, good sir. May you do me the honor of allowing me to help you up?"
Archer's smile returned.
"Why, certainly, brave knight." He took Saber's proffered grip after Excalibur vanished, and was pulled to his feet. He silently praised himself for not releasing his full-skeletal-and-muscle reinforcement as Saber did her best to discreetly shatter every bone in his hand.
Kiritsugu took all this in silently, from a much more concealed location. He tried not to think too hard about why Berserker didn't kill him. The black knight didn't even seem to have seen him when he had glanced up to see where the thing had come from.
The thing being the toy sword that had a single word scratched in the side, which he had only seen for a second before it vanished.
'Careless.'
He had feared for Iri for a second, but abandoned that as soon as he thought it through. If the assailant (ostensibly the re-headed Archer) had wanted it, he'd be dead. Iri would be dead. But since he wasn't killed, there was no reason to kill Iri. After watching the aftermath, Kiritsugu understood that the entire series of intended events just now was simply the roots of an extended psychological warfare campaign.
Against Saber.
His entire plan for action, all his preparation, hinged on the general idea that Saber would keep her temper long enough to stay useful until the end. He kept her with Iri for three reasons, not the least of which was the fact that he was utterly incompatible with Saber's mindset and way of doing things. He bet that her raw power would trump the handicap of her 'honor' and he arranged things such that she would have as little contact with him as possible. Never once did he think that the enemy would turn this exact fulcrum against him.
He was prepared for many things. He was willing to risk his dream against Kotomine, the only other participant that he thought might be able to out play him on his own level.
Never once did he dream that he'd be facing that kind of opposition from a Servant.
The message that had been sent to Saber was clear. "You are useless and failed at your role, twice, simultaneously."
The message sent to him? Less so.
He had not been careless. He had made the optimal choices. He reviewed them in his head again.
Unless the message was designed to make him question himself. Which failed. It was pointless. As pointless as . . .
As pointless as firing a toy sword at a spot three feet behind him. Intentionally pointless. A message that could only come across if the sender knew him perfectly.
What was the Servant planning? What goal would his actions most efficiently propel him towards? What is he fighting against?
On this subject, the mental machine that was Kiritsugu jammed. Probably just as that Servant intended.
He radioed Maiya to pull out and he abandoned the area. The situation was too far out of his control.
"Ah."
Archer glanced up at his former perch.
"You might want to look behind you, King of Knights."
Saber's angelic façade wavered for a second, then she and Archer both jumped in opposite directions as a storage crate fell on the spot they had both just occupied.
Standing on top of it was the Black Knight, Berserker, and he only had eyes for one.