Hi! Neither I nor this story is dead!

Genuinely sorry about disappearing for a few months there. It was never my intention. Real Life just decided to be really mean to me for awhile, and it took me a bit to get my Fate mojo back. But I am here, and this story is here, and I'm very excited to finally being able to continue it again! I have a lot of really fun and exciting plans that I can't wait to share with you guys.

So, let's finally start introducing some Servants, huh?

RedRat8: You'll see!~ ;)

DeathTheManiac: Ooh, interesting guess. Pope Joan would definitely make an interesting Servant choice!

reven228: Whelp, sorry to keep you waiting for so long! But I am very glad that I managed to write Joseph well last time. He's a lot of fun. :)

Nemris: Yeah, I didn't realize just how strongly the kantele was associated with a certain person until I googled 'kantele' and his name immediately popped up. Oh well! Sorry for keeping you waiting so long, but here are some Servants!

PainX65: AIR BUDDIES! It is going to be a shame when they enter the war and try to kill each other. It's going to be a shame when all of these characters try to kill each other. I'm already so attached!

ZenoZen: Yeah, this isn't exactly the most selfless bunch. But that just makes things fun!

Guest: Ooh, interesting guess!

tobi-is-an-artist-too: Hey, I always appreciate reviews! haha Hmm... interesting theory. We'll have to see once we check back in with Kizuna!

She… she had done it. She had actually done it.

Well, of course she did. But still. There were moments where Narcisse had been certain that this whole summoning ritual was going horribly, terribly wrong. No one had warned her that it would hurt so damn much. But the pain was completely gone now, replaced by a sense of triumph and wonder. Across from her stood a large, brawny man who paid no heed to the torrential downpour soaking them.

The rain had ended up being a blessing, even if it did wreck her hair. There was really nowhere else that she could safely draw a summoning circle besides the flat roof of the motel she was staying at. At least the bright, blue flashes of light that had heralded her new Servant's arrival could be somewhat realistically passed off as lightning.

"Tell me, Lass, are you my Master?" he asked, voice as low and rough as the thunder that rumbled miles from this ridiculous, little town.

Narcisse grinned and did a small, half-curtsey. "Narcisse Thorkelson, at your service."

He bounded forward, grabbing her hand and lifting it up to press a gentle kiss against her knuckles. His long, thick, white beard tickled her hand. "Ah, I am blessed to have such a fair maiden as my Master! Your beauty is more stunning than the northern lights! Would you care to join me as I create a song in your name?"

"Tempting," she said with a laugh. "But how about you confirm your name for me first? You're not Santa or his buff, swole brother, are you?"

Honestly, it wouldn't necessarily surprise Narcisse if he were, although she would definitely have to take it up with Sven because then he would have totally given her the wrong info. But the Servant in front of her look like Santa Claus, assuming Santa had the body of Arnold Schwarzenegger in his prime. He also had shoulder-blade length white hair and his rather ticklish beard. Although Narcisse pinned him to be somewhere in his sixties, there was this undeniable, youthful energy to him. His eyes were deep blue and perfectly clear.

He was dressed rather simply, especially compared to Narcisse's rather colorful ensemble. He had on a coarse, brown shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows over another, white shirt that was made of finer material. His trousers were also white, although rough and sturdy. On his feet were brown moccasins.

"Santa's swole brother? Hm, I like that! But no, I am Vainamoinen, of class Caster!"

Narcisse breathed a sigh of relief. Okay, good. Great! Exactly who she was expecting then. No need to change all of her plans last minute. Because that would be annoying. And also totally suck, but mostly just be annoying. But no. She got the right guy, and he didn't seem like a total psychopath! Definite win for her.

Lightning flashed brilliantly overhead, followed almost immediately by the crash of thunder. Narcisse flinched, a small squeak startled out of her, which was honestly rather embarrassing when she noticed Caster's face split into an even wider grin. Before she could react, he swept her up into his arms into a bridal carry. She looped her arms around his neck on instinct, not that she was actually worried that he would drop her. Narcisse might as well have been as heavy as a newborn with the ease that Caster had lifted her with.

"Let me get you out of this rain, my Master. You'll catch your death out here!"

"That is just an urban legend, you know."

"Better safe than sorry, Lass! Your beauty is far too great to lose to some common sickness!"

"Flatterer."

He winked and carried her inside, careful to make sure that her feet didn't hit the doorframe. And he continued to carry her, despite her protests, down the stairs and through the empty halls to the suite that Narcisse had claimed as her home base. He absolutely refused to put her down, so Narcisse just sighed and leaned her head against his broad shoulder instead.

"Are you ever actually going to put me down? I can walk, you know," she told him.

"You are my Master! Am I not supposed to see to your every wish?" he asked, those ridiculous eyes sparkling with humor. Narcisse narrowed her own eyes at him. "Someone with beauty such as yours should not have to worry about the ground dirtying your feet."

"Oh, so you're just going to carry me into battle then?" Narcisse asked, earning another booming laugh for her troubles. "I'm serious! Because I don't think that's a great battle plan."

Caster stopped walking, although he made no move to put her down. The joyfulness rapidly drained from his face, leaving an intense solemnity that suddenly made Narcisse feel very, very small and very, very young. "On my honor as a man and a warrior, no harm shall come to you, my Master. Even if we are side by side in the thick of battle."

"R-right," Narcisse said. She cleared her throat and flipped her rose gold locks over one shoulder. "Well, duh! It'd be kinda hard for either of us to win if I'm dead. Unless you go shack up with another Master, but that wouldn't be very nice."

"No, it would not," he agreed.

"But I can take care of myself anyways, so really, we don't have to worry about that!"

That got Caster to turn back into his previously jolly self. He began walking again, swinging Narcisse back and forth in his arms as he did so. "A fair maiden and a warrior?" he asked, paying absolutely no heed to how loud his voice was. "Surely the gods have blessed me then!"

Really, it just made her glad that she thought to buy out the entire motel. Sure, it had gotten her some very strange looks at the front desk, but it all worked out in the end. Now she wouldn't have to worry about explaining Caster to any too curious passersby. Especially since Caster wasn't exactly the most subtle person in the world.

He began composing that song to her beauty about halfway to the suite.

"This wasn't the fucking plan, Claus!"

The girl sitting near the window flinched, even though there was a closed door separating her from a very angry Dylan. He had stormed into his bedroom the moment the pair had returning from the summoning, barking orders for her to stay on guard but otherwise not even looking at her.

He was very, very angry. Of course he was angry. He was expecting an Archer or a Saber, some proud and noble warrior that made victory all but guaranteed. Not some hideous monster like her who could barely get four words out at a time.

The girl was young, no older than twenty, with long, silver hair that flowed to her waist. Her golden eyes were closed, hiding their unnatural, vertical slits. Scars covered the majority of her body, peeking out from under the dark purple dress that she wore. But the most eye-catching feature was the glowing, blue tattoo that covered most of her upper body, starting at her breastbone and radiating out in thick branches. A black helmet sat on the ground next to her, stylized to resemble a snarling dragon's head.

She leaned her head against the cold window and tried to focus on the soft pattering of rain against the glass. It did not work. She could still hear her Master as if he was sitting right next to her.

"You could have at least told me that I was going to summon a fucking Berserker!"

Berserker.

Monster.

Demon.

Madness.

Destruction.

Crush. Rip. Rend. Destroy. Tear. Ruin. Annihilate. Shred. Devastate.

Burn.

Burn. Burn. Burn. BurnBurnBurnburnburnburn.

Melt away into nothing but rubble and refuse and charred remains that won't stop screaming in her head.

Her eyes snapped open with an annoyed huff, shaking her head as if she could physically derail that train of thought. Even now, still, she was a monster. The Holy Grail had rightfully recognized her as one. Why else would it force her into this form?

But still.

Berserker was better than her other name. To call that other name her True Name tasted sour on her tongue. It wasn't her true, real name. It was forced onto her without any form of consent. Berserker was better than that. Berserker was a code, a title, even is it was a monstrous one. She could deal with that. She would have to.

"Berserker," she said, rolling the name around in her mouth. Odd and foreign, but that mostly seemed to be talking in general. "Berserker," she repeated with a bit more confidence.

"Yes, I know that I said I wanted a strong – will you just shut up and stop interrupting me for a second? I know what I said, but how am I supposed to use this? I hunt beasts like her, Claus. You know this!"

Her confidence evaporated in an instant. Oh, she wished that it wasn't raining. She wanted to be able to look up at the sky and see the moon and the stars and just watch them for a while. Maybe then she could drown out her Master's voice.

She should just kill him.

The thought was sudden and terrifying enough to make her stand up with a soft gasp, scarred hands coming up to clamp over her mouth.

No.

No.

No, she should not. She couldn't. The very idea of going through that closed door and showing her master why she was something to be feared made her chest ache and her heart freeze. She swallowed around the sudden lump in her throat and squeezed her eyes shut. Even if he hated her, he was all she had. She couldn't just throw that away in order to make a point.

Out. She needed to get out. This tiny cottage that they had claimed for their home was stifling. She turned back to the window and gently lifted it open, using incredible care not to accidentally break it. Rain immediately started coming into the room, but she paid that no mind, climbing through the window to stand in the muddy grass outside.

She took a few steps away from the cottage and turned her face up to the sky. The rain was cold, quickly soaking her hair and dress, but she honestly didn't mind. There was a peace out here, even without the moon or the stars, in the cold and the wind and the rain that managed to calm her thoughts. The tension slowly bled out of her shoulders, and she smiled.

She heard footsteps approaching the open window, and turned her head to see Dylan standing there. He looked less than pleased that rain was coming into his home base. They stared at each other for a long moment before Dylan shook his head and went further into the cottage.

He left the window open.

Quinn sat at his desk in his room, scrubbing his face with his hands. It was late and he should have been in bed two hours ago, but his mind refused to let him rest. Not yet. Not when things could still go very wrong. Not when Bridget sent him a message warning him that people were already circling around Elaine.

He thought that they would have more time. They should have had more time. How the hell was Elaine already pegged as a potential Master?

She never should have been a Master.

Never.

They would just have to be more careful then. Which honestly was a lot easier said than done, especially if Elaine got any more wild flights of fancy.

Quinn sighed and roughly stood up, his chair scraping against the cold, stone floor. He began to pace, always keeping one eye on the small, rotating, black sphere hovering over his desk. It was no larger than his clenched fist, but that was enough for it to do its job. Looking at it honestly made him feel dirty inside, but what other choice did he had? Elaine would thank him for it later.

Which was exactly what their mother would say whenever she did this to them.

But Quinn didn't have time to worry about that disturbing thought. The sphere shifted shape; morphing and lengthening until it more closely resembled an arrow. Quinn stopped his pacing, a frown tugging at his lips. He had hoped that she would chicken out, just stay in her room and just let the night pass without incident. But then again, nothing had been going the way that he had hoped recently, so why should this be any different?

He called the sphere to his hand and headed further into the castle. He already had some idea of where it would lead him – there were only so many places where you could hide from their mother's watchful shadows – but it never hurt to be absolutely sure. Especially with what was at stake.

Elaine had always managed to be silent on her feet. It was a gift that she still had, even five years later. But silence meant nothing if the flickering torchlight showed your shadow running towards where the Lancer artifacts were kept in the reliquary. Quinn should have put a stop to it right there, but he had kept his tongue, instead planting a single drop of oil at the nape of Elaine's neck during dinner. In a castle of this size, that drop would be more than enough to track her if she decided on a midnight excursion.

Quinn climbed down the tower that led to his bedroom and up to another, taller one. One that he hadn't stepped foot in in years. No one in the household had, besides maybe someone who decided to dust every once in awhile. Of course Elaine would choose it for her illicit summoning.

She had mostly set up the summoning circle by the time that Quinn arrived. He stayed in the shadows of the doorway, dismissing his sphere with a muttered word. It collapsed into a thin, oily sheen that slide up his arm and under his shirt to join the rest of its fellows pooled over his shoulder and down his back. Elaine flitted to and fro, worrying at the skin around her Command Seals as she checked and double-checked everything one more time.

"You can do this," she told herself. "You can do this."

She could, but it would be a horrible idea. Quinn took a step forward, ready to put a stop to this nonsense, when he saw the catalyst that she had chosen. A small, simple piece of wood that had been carved with runes.

"Now this one, this one is very important. Do you know why?"

"No, Father."

"It's your sister's. Everything else in this reliquary will belong to you, except for this. Promise me that you'll look after it for her?"

"Why can't you do it?"

"Quinn."

"… I promise."

Quinn faltered.

Elaine stood in front of the summoning circle, took a deep breath, lifted her arm, and opened her mouth.

No words came out.

Nothing.

Even as her outstretched arm began to shake and tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. She simply couldn't force herself to say the words, and the hope that had been secretly growing in his chest was snuffed out in an instant. Quinn didn't even know why there was a sudden hole there, just that disappointment rushed in to fill it as Elaine fell to her knees.

Elaine curled in on herself, refusing to give a voice to the tears that now rolled down her cheeks, trying to control her uneven breathing the best that she could.

She had always managed to be silent.

Quinn left his hiding place and stepped further into their father's private study. Elaine didn't look up at him as he knelt across from her and began cleaning up the summoning supplies.

"I don't know what you were thinking," he said after a long, painful moment.

"I – "

"How do you think our mother would have reacted? Do you think she would have been happy?"

Elaine's shoulders hunched even further. So she didn't think then. Of course not. She never thought when it came to things like this. She just did them, with not regards whatsoever to the consequences, and Quinn was always the one who had to pick up the pieces. Always.

"I'm sorry," she said, softly, weakly.

"I'm sure," he said, harshly.

Elaine watched him for a few minutes before speaking again. When she did, there was a clear hesitation to her voice, like she was trying to word things very carefully. "Why didn't you tell me? About him?"

There was never any question about who she was talking about. There was only ever one "him" when it came to Elaine.

Quinn looked down at the floor, focusing on Elaine's planned catalyst instead of on her. "It wasn't important for you to know."

"It wasn't important," she repeated.

"No."

"And who's decision was that?"

"Mine." And oh, that felt good to say. He glanced up just in time to see the hurt flash across her face, and it fed something twisted and petty and broken inside him. "It was mine."

"Were you ever going to tell me?" she asked. "He's the overseer! It's not like you could have hid that from me forever."

"Yes, well I also wasn't expecting him to show up on our doorstep now, was I?" Quinn snapped and that was enough to get Elaine on her feet. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Just go to bed, Elaine. I'll clean this up."

"But… okay." She slowly walked to the doorway and hesitated before leaving. "You're not going to tell our mother about this, are you?" Quinn just looked at her over his shoulder, and she smiled softly. She left without another word.

Father Ciara still hadn't made an appearance. Yeah, yeah, he wasn't supposed to be here until tomorrow but Johnny had still been just a little hopeful that he would show up a little bit early. You'd think the guy would want to be here to see the Servant that he was backing to win.

At least Brother Laurent wasn't here either. Thank God for small miracles. He had gotten a call two hours ago from one of his superiors in the Church and was still on the phone when Johnny and Grace left to go set up. The kid actually looked somewhat frazzled as he waved for the pair of them to go on without him. It was almost enough to make Johnny feel bad for him. Almost. Mostly he was just incredibly relieved.

Grace was the only one that he actually, genuinely wanted here anyways.

She stood off to the side of the deserted warehouse that they had found on the edge of town, holding the worn, wooden box in her arms. They had both agreed that it was probably best if they kept the box closed until the last possible second. It was easier to breathe that way.

"You know, it's still not too late to back out," Grace said as Johnny finished drawing out the circle. He ignored her for the moment, checking the time on his watch instead. "Johnny, I'm serious. Red's still in town. We can go to him like we planned."

"Weren't you the one who brought up how strong that piece of cloth felt?" he countered. "Don't tell me you're getting cold feet now, Gracie."

She glared at him. "Don't call me that. I'm being serious here."

"So am I," he said. "Come on, it'll be fine."

Grace still hesitated for a moment, but ultimately nodded. "Okay. If you're absolutely sure."

"When am I ever not absolutely sure?"

"Do you really want a list?"

"That was a rhetorical question."

She laughed at that, light and sweet, and Johnny couldn't help but roll his eyes. The set up finally complete, he nodded at Grace that he was ready. The laughter quickly died from her eyes. Within moments, she was all business. She brought the box over and opened it, holding it out to Johnny like an offering. Honestly, he really didn't want to touch the damn thing, but hey. Better him than Grace.

Surprisingly though, the cloth just felt like normal linen. It didn't burn his hand or anything demonic like that. He placed it in the center of the circle and took a couple of very large steps back. Grace did the same, setting the box down next to Johnny's briefcase before joining him at his side.

"Alright. Let's get this show on the road," he said.

"Ready when you are." Grace shot him a comforting smile and Johnny nodded.

"Let silver and steel be the essence. Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation. Let my great Master Harker be the ancestor. Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall. Let the four cardinal gates close. Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate.

"I hereby declare. Your body shall serve under me. My fate shall be your sword. Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail. If you will submit to this – "

Grace's eyes suddenly went wide. "Move!" she shouted, yanking him backwards just as something sharp and slender whistled past him. She let out a small cry, and Johnny turned his head just in time to see a large, bloody gash appear on the side of her neck.

And then all hell broke loose.

The pressure that had been building with the incantation popped the moment Johnny lost his concentration. It sent out a shockwave from the still glowing red summoning circle, lifting crates and briefcases and people bodily into the air and slamming them against the wall. Johnny landed hard on his knees, Grace falling onto her side next to him, stunned.

Stunned and bleeding but alive since she picked up her head just enough to look at him as he quickly dragged her behind the cover of a nearby crate. "Catwalk," she said. Good to know, assuming the shockwave didn't knock their mysterious attacker over. But right now he had much bigger things to worry about.

"Your neck," he said, taking one of her hands and placing it over the wound before pressing down hard.

"I'm fine," Grace told him, trying to bat him away with her other hand. "I don't think it hit an artery."

Yeah, okay so maybe she wasn't spurting blood all over the place, but she was still losing a lot of it. He needed to get her out of here. Now. Before something worse happened. Johnny looked around, sighing in relief when he spotted his briefcase a few feet away. Sure, it was right out in the open but at least it was close. He darted out, one eye on the catwalks for anything that looked vaguely human-shaped and returned safely back to his cover.

The summoning circle was still glowing, and now a hum had filled the air.

Johnny flipped his briefcase open and pulled out one of his submachine guns that had been magically enhanced to shoot elemental rounds. It was amazing how much better he felt the moment he got a weapon in his hands. He just barely peeked his head around the corner when another blade came whipping at his head. Johnny yanked his head back, his hand coming up over the top of the crate to fire back at the enemy's position.

Great. So now they knew exactly where Johnny and Grace were, Grace was growing paler by the second, and they were basically pinned down. Great. Fantastic.

Johnny looked at the wall behind him to see a black key embedded in the wood.

"The fuck is going on?" he muttered. He turned to Grace. "If I get us a path out of here, can you run?"

"I can try."

"Good enough."

Isaac growled as a wall of ice suddenly shot up towards the ceiling, completely blocking an entire third of the warehouse off. He sprinted towards it, caution completely abandoned at the mere thought of those two getting away. But even before he was halfway there, he knew that it was pointless. By the time he got through it, they would be gone.

"Damn Church bitch!" he snarled, coming to a standstill.

He would have been completely successful if she hadn't reacted so quickly. That's what he got for underestimating her. Sure, she was just a sweet, nice nun. No big deal. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid!

Maybe he'd get lucky and the bitch would bleed out while they ran away with their tail between their legs. That would be nice.

Isaac roughly ran his hand through his hair and growled again, this time more pissed off at himself than anything else. He would have to lay low after this, reset. Wait for the ringing and the humming in his ears to die down. Seriously, where did mages get off messing with this kind of power?

He turned around and came face to face with the summoning circle. "Guess you're not being used tonight," he told it. The white, burnt piece of cloth still sat perfectly in the center of the circle, as if it had just been gently placed there. Typical. Of course they would just leave an evil, dangerous artifact where anyone could just stumble upon it.

Isaac crossed into the summoning circle and bent over to pick up the catalyst.

A pillar of fire burst forth from the cloth.

Isaac scrambled backwards, tripping over his feet and falling to the ground. He caught himself with his hands, ignoring the pain that jolted up one arm. That same arm seemed to burn as the flame grew bright enough to blind him.

And then they vanished.

Isaac blinked a few times to clear his vision and his jaw dropped open. In front of him stood a young woman with short, white hair and sickly yellow eyes. She was dressed in jet-black armor with a black, fur-lined cape around her shoulders. A sword sat on her hip and a large, black and white flag was planted in the ground besides her.

The woman regarded Isaac for a long moment, cocking her head to the side. "So, you are my master?" she asked.

"What?"

The woman raised her eyebrows and her gaze dropped down to Isaac's hand. He followed her line of sight to see three, red Command Seals emblazoned on the back of his palm in the shape of a cross.

"Let me ask a better question. What do you wish for?"

What did Isaac wish for? The answer was obvious. "I want to kill them all."

The woman bent at the waist to get a better look at him. A slow smile spread across her face. "That look in your eye… I know it well. You and I are cut from the same cloth, aren't we? Very well. I will grant your wish when the day comes. Be prepared though, Master. On that day, you and I shall burn together."

I would like to thank Monikasbest for submitting both Isaac and his lovely Servant and for indulging my desire to keep it a secret. That's right: we got 8 Servants in this Grail War. After all, we got 8 different Command Seals on the cover art for a reason! ;)

The rest of the summonings will come next chapter, which will hopefully not take as long as this one did.

Until next time! :)