Picture the landscape. A desert dotted with swords. The barren and desolate surface is tinted dark red, as caused by the orange-colored sky above. On the far horizon, a bright strip of light offers salvation to those who would walk here, though it has no discernible origin. Whatever other source of luminosity this realm could offer is disturbed by the line of black gears that occupy its skyline. Its monotonous gyrating gives a sordid ambience.
On the surface of this desert is a solitary wooden cottage. The only abode of this whole environment. Lives inside, is the sole inhabitant of this desert of iron. It is he who holds dominion here. It is he who created this world with his hands, and yet it is he who shall never escape it. A prisoner of his own making.
Rhythmic clanking of metals. He stares at another imitation of the only thing he created. He is never a true father of swords, but an adopter of them. Inside his head is the stored memory of the complex inner-workings of a billion different arms that history has seen. He sees, and he will always see. He tosses another into the large pile. The sword lies in a dark corner, together with all of its twins.
A sudden call interrupts the man's work. He glances to his left. Through the spaces between the wooden boards, bright blue light finds its way into his cabin. He has seen this occurrence a million times before, and as he expects, another million times. He puts down his tools and makes his way to the door. Before he opens the door, he can already presume what will be said.
"Oh, Emiya, I hope I didn't interrupt whatever you're doing."
It was a female voice, but the figure that delivered it is as far as a human could be. Two rings that revolve around a small orb in its center, all bright and blue in color. Its form is transparent and energy-like. To look at it is like gazing at a fragment of the blue sky that this world lacks.
Internally, the man cringed. His Master has always preferred to call him by the name of his past living self. However, he had gotten used to it. It's been rather long since he heard her voice anyhow.
The hero didn't bother his Master with a response. A soldier doesn't do small talk with his commander.
"You know, we haven't talked to each other in a long time. When was the last time we met anyway? Right, your disciplinary action. I hope you don't harbor any bad feelings towards me, by the way. You, out of anyone, should know that Counter Guardians need excellent self-restraint both on and off the field."
The man remembers the disciplinary action his master mentioned. It was something he would not have liked to recall, yet the being in front of him brought it up anyway. Uncaring of what he as a Counter Guardian felt. The hero learned his lesson to never again try to change his circumstances, even if it took a slow and quiet torture to teach him so.
"I understand, Master. It was my own selfish actions that warranted such horrible punishment," the hero responded in submission. Such slavish behavior is only regular for this man.
He could hear a muffled chuckle coming from the being in front of him. She seems to have unending delight whenever she has to deal with him. An ideal hero, that is his role. A role that she is happy to indulge him in. Even the most detestable of sinners does not deserve the monotonous hell that he suffers. But yet, this is the fate that awaits all who would become heroes.
"It's alright to make mistakes, dear Emiya. What matters is that if we learnt from it or not. At least, that is what humans have taught me."
"Of course."
"Anyway, I am here because I have something for you to do. Finally, a chance to redeem yourself! This time, you will be accompanied by two of your comrades. Why? To help you get back on track, of course. Trust me, you need it."
The man has dealt with his Master long enough to know what that means. In his profession, there is no rule set in stone. Whatever his Master says, she will make it law. When she says she will help him get back on track, his Master will send people to nag and harangue him throughout his mission. To ensure he stays in line.
"Master's benevolence is endless. I am thankful for such consideration."
"You flatter me too much, Emiya. Did you really miss me so?"
The man has been conditioned to treat such questions as rhetorical. As such, he waited for his Master to continue with her briefing. It's just how conversations between them usually go. However, his Master didn't say anything and just waited. It seems that this time, his Master felt a different way.
"Answer my question."
"Of course." He took an apologetic bow. "Since you asked so kindly. I have missed you so, Master."
"I'm delighted to hear that. I'll allow you a brief thirty-minute rest, after which you will be shifted to your mission's location. The fate of an entire world is upon you, so you better do a good job."
Something is strange.
"I am sorry to ask, Master, but are you not going to tell me anything else about where I'm going, or what my objective is? It will be easier for me to prepare a strategy, if you at least give me some more details."
His Master sounds quite amused.
"Oh, Emiya. Strategy isn't really that important, not now anyways. Besides, if I tell you anything else, won't that ruin the fun for you? I want you to treat this partially as a vacation. Plus, I don't want to spoil the whole mystery."
The hero thought he was familiar with his Master, but it seems he's not really so.
"Of course. I'm sorry to have bothered you. I will never betray the trust you have given me."
If his Master had a mouth, she would be smiling right now. It is evident in her voice.
"Dear Emiya, remember you are valuable as a Counter Guardian. Your comrades and I value everything you do. Disappoint me, and you will upset everyone that you work with."
"I understand."
"It seems nothing more is needed to be said. I'll be leaving you shortly. I am a very busy Master, as you know."
"Of course, Master. I hope I will be able to meet you again, after finishing my mission."
The man uttered those last words with as much honesty as he could muster. He watches as his Master floats up towards the sky, slowly. After some seconds, the orb in its center starts to emit a pure white glow. A loud and far-reaching sound it produces, like an old bell being rung. The glow eventually encompasses all of the being's parts, reaching its outer ring. Faster than the light's emergence, the two rings shrunk into the orb it's orbiting. As if it's being sucked in. Once all the parts are of similar size, it disappears into the pure glow. Eventually that too, shrinks away.
With nothing more to do and say, the hero returns to his wooden cottage. He would rather not spend too much time staring at the field of swords. The memories that came with it were still rather painful. For a Counter Guardian, every mission is but a brief dream that one would eventually wake up from, and only remember parts of. But for his latest misadventure, he did something as misguided as to project this very world while facing his human self. One more missed opportunity, one more past regret to add onto the pile.
Thirty minutes have passed. He stares at his hands. Hands that never truly held anything. All of his form starts to glow. The hero prepares for another waking dream.
And so, welcome to Moonlit Rituals. I am trying to polish up my writing my style, so I apologize if it seems a little obtuse or barebones at times. To be honest, what I am aiming for is to cut most of the 'fat' from what I write. Basically, just tidying up my paragraphs. From now on, expect to see not a lot of dashes. And the dialogue parts seem pretty straightforward, isn't it? Regarding the canon, don't fault me for trying to put a little spin on things. The Fate universe is already as confusing as it is. I will try my best to match the canon nevertheless. Don't expect a schedule for this fic. I may be very busy at times, and have too much free time at others.