Chapter 1: Beginning of the End

Chiaki Nakazawa stood ready. The Summoning Circle was before her, the incantations were set, and the timing was right. She was ready to summon her servant.

She had waited for this moment for so long, and she was finally going to engage in the Holy Grail War. She still remembered hearing her father speak about the one nearly twenty-five years prior. He hadn't participated, but he worked for the man who did. The man who ended up winning that Grail War and taking control of most of the world.

Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald.

Though Archibald had long since passed, and the second El-Melloi had held power since then. Now there was an opportunity to change all that. To change everything in her world. With the wish of the Final Holy Grail, she would set things right. She didn't care if Magecraft continued to be in this world, nor did she care who ruled it. All she cared about was revenge and she finally had that within her grasp.

She extended her hand towards the Summoning Circle, lightly glancing at her Command Seal. It resembled a sun or star, she supposed.

"Let Silver and Steel be the essence-"

The wind began to pick up in her room as the Summoning Circle glowed red with light.

"Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundations. Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall-"

The wind picked up even higher, throwing the various loose papers she had in the room around. She silently cursed herself for not securing them before she began. Well… no going back now.

"Let the four cardinal gates close. Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate-"

The Summoning Circle grew even brighter. She felt there being a connection between herself and the Throne of Heroes. There were strange substances, numbering in the nameless thousands, that she couldn't see or even feel all that well… but she knew they were there, just beyond this dimension.

"Let it be declared now; your flesh shall serve under me, and my fate shall be with your sword-"

The substances were disappearing quickly. Had she somehow messed up? No… the Grail was sorting through them. Picking the perfect Heroic Spirit for her. Her skin tingled as she continued.

"Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail. Answer, if you would submit to this will and this truth-"

The spirits were less than a hundred now. She could even begin to feel their unique differences between each other. It was overwhelming, but she stayed standing, mostly because she couldn't fully understand the process of what was going on, and that which she did understand she blocked out in order to continue.

"An oath shall be sworn here-"

Less than fifty now.

"I shall attain the virtues of all of Heaven-"

Less than ten.

"I shall have dominion over all evils of all of Hell-"

Only one.

"From the Seventh Heaven, attended to by three great words of power, come forth from the ring of restraint, protector of the holy balance!"

The Summoning Circle seemed to be struck by lightning and exploded with light, and Chiaki felt her soul slightly be pulled forward as the world seemed to bend around her. She couldn't see, but she felt as though a perfect hole were plucked out of the world, and that one final substance was pushed through it. No… not pushed. Pulled through, by her. She had done it. She had summoned a Heroic Spirit.

The light began to die, and her mind quickly realized the gravity of the situation. These Heroic Spirits were unbelievably powerful. She had to be certain that the Servant she ended up with liked her, or at least they had to have a good understanding of one another. The first step was respect. No… no no, the first step was confidence. Or was the first step bargaining?

Okay, she had forgotten the first step.

She decided to move past that and determined that regardless of what the first step was, she couldn't show weakness, even for a second.

The light disappeared entirely, and a servant stood in the center of the summoning circle. He was tall, muscular and handsome. A paragon of a man, no doubt. He had flowing blonde hair and bright red eyes. He had no clothes on save for a white garment around his waist that fell to his knees, leather bracers and armored sandals around his feet and calves.

Obviously Greek. That's good. Greek heroes are powerful, she thought to herself.

She had nearly missed it, but he had a golden string wrapped tightly around the entirety of his right arm, almost like a second skin. Could he be…?

Her thought process was interrupted by him taking a step forward with a furrowed brow, eyes focused on her. Wow, he was big. He looked about seven feet tall. He stood over her, and could see his eyes begin to study her.

No fear. No fear. No fear, she repeated to herself.

The servant began to walk around her, sizing her up.

She cleared her throat and then spoke. "Now listen. I summoned you, and that makes me your Master. I understand you're powerful, and I respect that, but we should get to an understanding of one another right away. So-"

"Nice ass."

She was struck silent by the comment. She turned and look back at him to see him crouched down and lifting up her skirt.

All her fear vanished in that moment, replaced with rage. "What the hell do you think you're doing!?" she shouted, whipping around and throwing a slap at him.

Faster than her eyes could track, he moved his head out of the way of her hand, letting go of her skirt.

"Legs aren't bad, either."

"Just who the hell do you think you are?" Chiaki screamed in frustration.

The servant smiled. He stood up again, placing his massive hands on his hips. "It's as you said. I am your servant, aren't I?"

"What kind of servant begins groping his master before even establishing a-... no, for that matter, what kind of Servant gropes their Master?"

"What kind of Master doesn't allow their Servant to grope them? In Greece, we'd have had several bouts in the bedroom before we got to anything like a contract. But I suppose times change…" the servant murmured to himself, turning and walking for the door.

"What? Where are you going?" Chiaki called, running after him.

The servant opened the door, walking up the steps that were revealed there. "Are we in an underground chamber? Where is this?"

"It's my… it's my apartment. Now, just stay where you are, alright?" Chiaki berated.

The servant stopped halfway up the stairs. He turned his head. "What is it, Master? Should I not be able to see our base of operations?"

"I don't even know what your True Name is. For that matter, I don't even know your class! Shouldn't we get that stuff out of the way first?"

The servant just stared for a moment. "I suppose, but it's really not necessary. For any other Servant, maybe it would be, but you're lucky enough to have the mightiest hero of Greece at your side. All other considerations are meaningless in the light of that fact."

"Impossible… a pervert like you is…" Chiaki could barely speak, partly from the anger, and partly from the shock.

She hadn't even used a relic. She thought it wiser to get a Servant with good compatibility first and use strategy to defeat the others… but had her luck truly brought her the strongest Heroic Spirit out there?

Chiaki noticed he had exited the stairwell, and had no doubt begun to mull about her apartment upstairs. She ran after him.

The midday sun had begun to cast it's illumination through her curtains, causing the entire apartment to flare with golden light. She moved to the Kitchen, where the servant had opened the fridge and was rummaging through its contents.

Chiaki took a few deep breaths. She could still salvage this. She took a step forward and entered the kitchen behind him.

"You're not exactly what I expected."

The servant turned, his mouth full of bread and his arms full of various other foodstuffs. His response was muffled for obvious reasons.

"What are you doing? Servants don't need food."

The servant laid his foodstuffs on the counter and bit off the piece of bread in his mouth, chewing and swallowing before laying the bread down as well.

"Servants also don't need to sleep, or drink, or have sex, or ride fast vehicles… I want to try one of the 'cars' while I'm here, by the way."

"This isn't a vacation."

"Might as well be. I told you before, there is no one stronger than me. And if there is, I'll just surpass them easily."

"I have no doubt, considering that you are who you are… but being strategic about it couldn't hurt."

The servant shrugged and began pulling apart the bread. "But strategies take too long. I want to enjoy myself in this era."

Chiaki sighed. "Just humor me then. I know a ton of healing magecraft, but I have little of anything else. In a straight up fight, a well-trained Magus could kill me easily."

The servant glanced at her, but continued working. "What about the Lightning Cestus? You have that, don't you?"

Chiaki was surprised again. She cleared her throat. "And how would you know about that?"

"I saw a paper downstairs showing the proper form for using them. That, combined with your knuckles having a little irritation on them leads to a single conclusion. You use Lightning Cestus."

Chiaki was speechless. He was barely even down there… Exactly how much did he see in that short amount of time?

"Um… well… even so. They really can only work in certain occasions, and I've barely used them in real combat. If we want any chance in winning this war, you'll have to stick close by me."

"Fine with me. Having a pretty face around is always a plus."

"That also means that you can't go running off into fights randomly. If I get attacked by the Assassin-class servant and you're not nearby, I'm done for. Make sure you keep an eye on me."

"Oh hoh… that is definitely not a problem."

Chiaki growled to herself. She moved into the living room.

"Am I going to have to be wearing extremely baggy clothing when around you?"

"I don't think that's a good idea. What if it gets caught and snags on something? No, it's best if you wear clothing that's nice and snug. Also show plenty of skin, you don't want to get overheated in case you have to start running from an enemy."

Chiaki buried her face in one of her hands. How the hell was this guy the strongest?

"You're insufferable, and I've barely known you for five minutes."

"That is strange. Then again, most other women I meet would have a much different first five minutes…"

She folded her arms and turned back towards the Kitchen, seeing him exit with a massive sandwich in one hand, and a pitcher of juice and a glass in the other. He handed her the glass. She took it.

"Well then, I'll let you take the lead on where we begin, Master. Since you're the strategist, I'll follow your orders and accomplish them easily," the servant continued, pouring the juice into her glass.

"Well, you don't lack for confidence… I suppose you'll do as my Servant."

"And you don't lack for sexiness. I'll gladly accept you as my Master."

They clinked their glasses together. He held his pitcher aloft. "Here's to the Holy Grail War, and our assured victory!"

Chiaki took a sip from her glass and watched as the servant guzzled down the rest of the pitcher. She could see him move his tongue around in his mouth afterwards. "...this is strange wine."

"I'll get some better stuff from the store. Anyway, I still have one question to ask."

"To satisfy your curiosity? Go ahead, then."

"I know I shouldn't call you your True Name, so calling you by your class name would be better, but I never got your class."

The servant had been munching on his sandwich, and thought about it before swallowing.

"That makes sense. If anyone knew my True Name, they'd all flee in terror, and we'd never be able to kill them in order to complete the Holy Grail War. Very well, you may call me Berserker."

Chiaki nodded and took a drink of juice.

That makes sense. I noticed he hadn't been summoned with a weapon, so it left out most other choices. When you think about, it was a little obvious that he was-

She spat out juice all over the servant in front her.

"Berserker!?"

Johnny Remia leaned on the windowsill as he looked outside. From the looks of it, Archer had organized a game of soccer with the children. He seemed pretty good with the kids, a fact that Remia hadn't really expected.

He adjusted his cowboy hat as he turned back inside. He had been waiting here for some time now. The representative from the Mage's Association ought to have been showing up soon, but he was getting impatient. Originally, he had Archer wait with him, but the servant had been getting restless, so Remia let him go outside.

Funny… an Archer that didn't like sitting still. Hopefully that wouldn't be a problem when the war kicked in.

He slumped back into a chair and noted that the tea he had made had gone cold. He reached for the pot and stood up, moving to the stove where he returned it to the heat. His eyes momentarily fell upon his Command Seal. It looked like a discus with a strange symbol directly above it, like an eye with eyelashes, or apple pie with heat coming off it.

He smirked to himself. Apple pie. How stereotypically American of him.

He heard the door open behind him, and turned to see an old nun guiding a woman in. She looked young and pretty, but her eyes showed greater experience. Remia was temporarily curious what her true age was… but knew better than to ask.

Behind the woman, a fair-faced man with wild light purple hair and red eyes walked in, wearing a suit. Remia addressed the woman.

"Ms. Tohsaka, glad you could join us. Would you like tea? I just put a new pot on."

"Yes, thank you. Lancer?" she asked, turning her head to the man in the suit.

Lancer shook his head.

"I apologize for taking so long. Lancer and I had to take care of a few things," she continued, moving to the table and sitting in one of the chairs, crossing her legs. Remia turned and leaned on the counter behind him, folding his arms.

"I wasn't waiting long," Remia lied, "but I am glad we can continue our business. Did you successfully summon the servant you were after?"

"You mean the servant the Mage's Association was after. I would've preferred someone different."

Remia's eyes shot to Lancer, who had moved to the window, and appeared to be drawing something on it.

"He knows. Truthfully, he's the better option compared to who I wanted, but still…" Tohsaka replied to Remia's glance. Remia should've expected she'd be that observant...

"There is merit in fighting with friends and those you're familiar with," Lancer interrupted, moving away from the window and standing next to Tohsaka.

"There's also merit in not doing that. Sucks to have to look out for someone else. Much better if you can just cut ties and run if you're in trouble. That's how you survived the last war, ain't it?" Remia continued.

"That's a smart philosophy. But it hardly ever works out the way you think it will," Tohsaka replied, her gaze never faltering for a second. This woman was every bit as scary as he remembered.

Remia scratched his stubbled chin. He nodded to the window. "Archer is outside right now. He'd've sensed Lancer's arrival, so he'll be here soon."

"We saw. I don't doubt your judgement, Mr. Remia, but I do have to wonder why you've selected such a strange servant."

The pot began whistling. Remia turned and grabbed it, walking to the table and pouring the tea for her. "Simple strategy, Miss. He may be a tad more recent than any of these other servants - especially yours - but he's powerful in his own right, and so few people have heard of him that they won't be able to identify him easily and counteract him," Remia explained, setting down the pot in the middle of the table.

"You would be better off with a servant too powerful to counter in the first place," she replied, picking up her cup and taking a light sip from it. She quickly set the cup down again.

"See, that's why I enjoy being paired up with the Mage's Association's top dog. Your servant is exactly the kind that seems unbeatable, and my servant is exactly the kind to be unknowable. Between the two of us, we've got this war in the bag," Remia continued, sitting down and propping his feet up on the table.

"I wouldn't be so sure. We don't even have the slightest idea who the other servants are. What if one like the King of Heroes is summoned again?"

"I can take care of enemies like him," Archer said from the window. Remia and Tohsaka both turned to look as Archer slid in. He had a large, bulky red cloak wrapped around him, so he looked like a mass of cloth underneath a head, which was darker skinned and topped with braided brown hair. On his cheek, a lightning bolt tattoo that crossed his eye.

"Archer, I presume?" Tohsaka asked.

"Nah, he's just some creep who wears shower curtains and likes to play with children," Remia interrupted.

Archer looked down at his cloak and then back up to Remia. "This is not a shower curtain, it is my home."

Tohsaka seemed unfazed. Lancer, on the other hand, looked perplexed.

"And you are the other servant I will be fighting this war with?" Archer asked, looking at Lancer.

Lancer nodded and bowed. "Good to meet you, Archer. Might I suggest that you wear less… suspicious clothing? We don't want to attract unnecessary attention."

Archer shrugged. "I am comfortable like this." After a moment, Archer remembered to bow to Lancer.

"Well, back to your question, Ms. Tohsaka… you really think even one of the most powerful servants out there could withstand the two of our servants working together? Lancer is damn close to bein' a Divine Spirit all by himself," Remia reasoned.

The door opened. The old nun returned, carrying a tray of food. "Don't mind me, I was just making lunch for the children, and thought the two of you could use some, as well. If you want more, just ring for me," the nun smiled at them, setting the tray on the table.

"Thank you kindly, Sister Gretelle. Just how long can we stay here, anyway?" Remia asked, picking up a biscuit and taking a bite.

"As long as the two of you want! Of course, I won't tolerate any kind of fighting here, I hope you understand that," Gretelle explained, tapping on Remia's feet.

"Of course, Sister. We appreciate you taking the time to be the Overseer of this war. Shouldn't be more than two weeks," Remia explained as he removed his feet from the table. He caught Tohsaka's eye.

"One week. Shouldn't be more than one week," Remia corrected.

"Oh, I really don't mind. Just remember - no fighting here. Have fun, you two," Gretelle called warmly, as she turned to leave. Just before she left she stopped herself and turned to Archer and Lancer. "Pardon me. Have fun, you four."

As soon as the door closed, Remia put his feet back up on the table. "Seems like a nice lady. I don't think she's got what it takes to be an Overseer, but hey, I don't make the rules."

Tohsaka took a thoughtful sip. "We're agreed upon the wish we make, then?"

Remia arched an eyebrow. "Why wouldn't we be? We've only been planning this shindig for five years."

"Conviction can change in that time," Tohsaka replied, "I just want to make sure we're absolutely clear."

"Ms. Tohsaka, I was the one who came to the Mage's Association in the first place. Ain't nobody out there who wants to see Magic return to where it was before the 70s more than I do."

Tohsaka nodded. "Excellent. Then if I were to ask you to kill your servant and get a better one…?"

Remia could feel Archer bristle. He noticed Lancer's hand readied itself. Tohsaka kept her gaze focused on Remia, and Remia could feel his will begin to falter under it, but he kept his voice steady as he smiled at her. "I'd ask you to reconsider."

There was a moment in that room that could've exploded. As it passed, the sound of children laughing outside floated into the room.

"Just a hypothetical situation, that's all. I think you're servant will do just fine," Tohsaka eventually said.

"That's an awfully scary hypothetical. I ain't saying I wouldn't consider your proposition. 'Course, I'd expect you to supply a good reason for having to do that. After all, it'd waste a Command Seal," Remia replied, standing up and moving towards Archer, thankful that the movement broke his gaze with Tohsaka.

He placed a hand on Archer's cloaked shoulder. "But you ain't seen what this Archer can do. Just watch, you'll eat your silly words about forced suicide." Remia turned to Tohsaka, still faced away from him. "Hypothetically speakin', of course."

Lancer placed his hands in his pockets. Tohsaka nodded. "I see. Very well then."

She stood up and turned for the door. "You shouldn't be so tense. Lancer and I will find a suitable base of operations for us. Until then, stay here."

Lancer bowed to Remia and Archer as he followed Tohsaka out. Remia tipped his hat. Archer didn't move.

"I do not like her," Archer said.

"Tell me about it. She was enough of a boogeyman when I met her five years ago. She's just gotten worse since her sister left."

Archer was silent for a second. "Has she uncovered it?"

Remia moved back to the table and picked up another biscuit. "Our connection? Maybe not what it is exactly, but she knows there's something."

"She is powerful in mind, body, and magic. And yet her heart seems to hold nothing."

"Yup. Sakura Tohsaka is one woman you definitely don't want to cross."

Travick Dormir was at the end of the hallway, looking through rooms. Why had the servant run off like that? He seemed like he was possessed, or something. He was certainly odd, that much was clear.

Trussa ran down the hallway. "Is he there?" she called out to her butler.

Travick looked at her. "I'm afraid not, mistress. Perhaps he's gone outside?"

"Oh, I hope not."

As soon as Travick and she met at the center of the hallway, they heard a noise outside. Of course.

They ran into one of the rooms and opened the door to the balcony. Light poured from the doorway into the darkening sky. They looked down at the street below. He was standing in the middle of the street, laughing like a madman.

"Cry in despair, mortals! Your dark lord and master has returned!"

A car passed by him, and a drunk passenger threw a beer can at him and screamed something at him in German. The mad servant yelped and took a step back from the can, but after a moment, reached down and picked it up, studying it. He then smiled.

"Aha! A tribute already! I see this world has not forgotten me in my absence."

Trussa leaned over the railing and looked down at him.

"What are you doing down there?"

Saber looked up and saw her. A wild grin suddenly splashed across his face. He bent down and leaped, sailing through the air and landing on top of the balcony railing, next to Trussa. Trussa stepped back and looked up at him.

He was dark skinned, but wore a black bodysuit with a golden set of gauntlets, boots, a belt, and an armored cowl - which only went so far as to protect his upper chest and neck. His head, and therefore hair, were left uncovered, which allowed it's spiky nature to curve down to the middle of his back. A cape, attached to the cowl, blew about in the wind.

"Saber, what on Earth is wrong with you? We have to keep quiet!" Travick growled, pointing a finger at him.

Saber's stupid grin grew wider, revealing large canines. "Quiet? The shockwaves of all the Mana you must've used to summon me would've let the entire world know I've returned."

"That doesn't mean you can go-"

Saber held up a finger. "Hold that thought." He lept backwards, back into the street. A moment later, he returned with the beer can. "You may continue now."

"We can't let others know our location, otherwise they can attack us whenever they feel like it!"

Saber responded by taking a large bite out of the can, spewing excess beer over himself and the railing. Travick reached forward and pulled Trussa back, preventing any of it from getting on her dress. After a few moments, Saber stopped chewing. "This was a mistake..."

"Saber! Are you even listening!?" Travick shouted. Saber stepped off the railing and onto the balcony.

"Nope. You, mustachioed servant. How am I supposed to enjoy this tribute?" Saber responded, pointing to Travick.

Travick glanced at Trussa. Trussa just smiled. "Travick, go and show him around."

Travick, after a sigh, motioned for Saber to follow him, and left back through the room and down the hallway as Trussa closed the doors. She moved the opposite direction, towards her room.

"If it is possible, I would like you to act less… rashly than you have been. It would remove a great deal of stress from the young mistress' mind."

Saber took another bite. "Meh. You summoned me for this war. Did you expect the most powerful demon in history to be polite?"

Travick continued, making a mental note to return here and clean up his beer later. "Yes, about that… are you certain you are who you say you are? While Tr-... pardon me, Ms. Loyuffon is your Master and has the Command Seals, I am taking care of your Mana consumption in place of the young mistress. Frankly, your Mana upkeep is quite low, certainly not at the level we thought it would be at."

Travick turned and realized Saber was no longer following him. "Oh, bollocks."

Travick closed his eyes. Several of his familiars woke up throughout the house. One by one, he went through their vision until he came to see that the newly summoned servant was looking through the armory. Why was he there?

Travick moved efficiently through the house, making no wasted movements. He arrived at the front of the armory to see the door had already been pushed open. He took a step inside. Saber was rummaging through the swords.

"Ahem… Saber, might I ask why you're looking through our selection of swords?" he asked, adjusting his monocle.

"I need a weapon, don't I?" Saber explained quickly, tossing a spear behind him. Travick reached out and snatched the weapon before it clattered against the wall.

"But, pardon my impertinence, you're Saber. Of the Saber-class, I mean. Weren't you summoned with a sword?"

Saber shook his head. "Your 'young mistress' probably screwed up the summoning ritual. I don't have a sword, nor a Noble Phantasm," Saber continued, holding up a sword, almost as if he could test the blade just by looking at it. He tossed the sword behind him. Travick put the spear in the crook of his arm and grabbed the sword from the air.

"Again, forgive my impertinence, but that is impossible. I watched over the young mistress. She did everything correctly."

Saber tossed a priceless blade behind him, causing Travick to crook the previous sword and jump to catch the new blade. "I will have a sword. Soon, anyway. But no, I didn't have a sword with me. But maybe that's the way the Grail wanted it. I was too powerful to begin with, so to ensure I didn't just win immediately, it handicapped me. Yes, that must be it."

Travick decided it was best for him to place his armful of weapons to the side, lest Saber toss another expensive weapon at him . "That is quite the theory. However, the Grail has thus far shown no qualms with unbalanced sides in the previous wars, why would the case be different this time around?"

Saber kept looking through weapons, mostly just throwing them aside, as opposed to throwing them at Travick. The butler sighed as he saw investment after investment thrown away. After a moment, Travick spoke again. "Might I ask what your Noble Phantasm would've been to warrant such a theory?"

Saber shrugged. "I don't remember."

"Oh dear… what on Earth have we gotten ourselves into?" Travick lamented, shaking his head sadly.

Saber pulled up a sword that had a golden hilt - similar to his armor - and a black blade with red symbols along the flat of the blade. It was a ceremonial sword, unfit for combat.

"Ah… this must be your finest sword. I shall use this in battle."

"That is a ceremonial blade, it is worthless in combat."

"How do you know it's worthless? Perhaps the universe has sent it here as an act of providence, awaiting the only one who could truly wield it."

"Such divine mysteries aren't possible in our world anymore. Things are different from your time."

Saber turned to Travick. "Maybe so. But even so, I will wield this blade with my demonic power, so-"

Saber swung it once, slicing it against the wall. The blade immediately broke. Travick crossed his arms and looked at Saber.

"Ah. Yes. Well. My demonic power appeared to be too much for even that masterpiece of a blade to survive. Anyhow, have it repaired and strengthened," Saber replied, picking up the pieces and handing them to Travick.

"There are dozens of other blades you could choose from, each one more finely made than that one."

"But it doesn't go well with my overall appearance. How am I supposed to look intimidating if my weapon looks stupid?" Saber explained, moving past Travick and into the hallway.

"What on Earth does intimidation have to do with anything?"

"Tell Loyuffon she can find me in the main hall when she is ready to begin," Saber ignored Travick.

Travick felt a headache arising.

Izolda closed her eyes and listened to the water slap against the side of the yacht. As the boat bobbed up and down in the water, she opened her eyes again and looked at the city before her.

"Ms. Izolda? We've retrieved the resources you needed. Are you ready to begin?" one of the assistants asked.

Izolda just nodded. After a moment, she reached out her gloved hand and motioned for the assistant to join her at the edge of the yacht. He did so. The assistant that had been standing with him, a woman, remained where she was.

"Look down into the dark waters. What do you see?" Izolda instructed.

The man leaned over and squinted. "I apologize, Ms. Izolda… maybe it's because the sun has set and the moon hasn't risen yet, but… I don't see anything."

"Not even a reflection?"

The man squinted harder. "No… the lights not good enough. I can't even see a shadow."

"To not be able to see a shadow in the dark… that kind of incompetence is truly another level altogether."

The man stood up straight and turned to her. "I apologize, Ms. Izolda. I'm no owl, I can't see in the dark."

Izolda peered at him from the corner of her eye. "Why did you stop looking at the dark water? You're liable to miss your death."

The man had no time to respond before Rider exploded out of the surface of the water, laughing as his hand snatched the side of the man's face and pulled him into the water below. The commotion unfortunately began rocking the boat slightly more than she was comfortable with… but she wouldn't mind for the time being.

The other assistant finally spoke after a moment of shock. "That was… was that a servant? I thought you hadn't summoned him yet?"

Izolda reached up and moved her hair out of the way, revealing her Command Seal on the back of her neck.

"I apologize for the deception. It's so much more difficult to garner sacrifices when they have somewhere to run to," Izolda explained.

The assistant reached into her side and pulled out a pistol. "You bitch…"

Rider was suddenly beside the assistant, his hand grabbing her arm. He twisted it, snapping it unnaturally, afterwards turning and beginning to pull her towards the water. "No! No, no no! Ple-" she was thrown in the water. Frothy bubbles arose from where she entered. A few moments later, they stopped.

Rider leaned on the railing next to his Master. "She's right, y'know. Ye most certainly are a deceptive witch."

"Are you any better?"

Rider let out a laugh. "No. Never claimed ta be, either. But I was always destined fer Hell. You still had a fightin' chance."

"I've killed far more than one boat of people. I've made a living off of killing others, that's why I was hired by the Harweys in the first place. There are still other sacrifices on the boat, you know."

"I know, I was jus' wonderin' how many would try ta swim away first… I love it when they do that…"

"I'm going inside for a drink."

"Get me one, too."

Izolda stopped. She turned to Rider. "You don't have a throat."

Rider turned, still leaning on the edge of the boat. "I've learned ta deal with it."

Deciding not to delve further into his strange logic, she turned and went into the yacht. Inside, there was still a person, who most definitely had seen what had happened, probably too scared to do anything but stand. Izolda ignored them and went for the bottle of alcohol.

After pouring two of them, she returned outside. "There's one in the cabin, too scared to move."

"Oh ho ho… they'll move after a single good look at me…" Rider sneered, snatching his drink and pouring it past his teeth as he moved by her.

Izolda sighed and turned, taking a sip as Rider entered the lit cabin. Through the window, she could see the person's eyes widen as the living skeleton wearing a long coat and ratty pants and boots came walking into the room. The horns that came from the skull's forehead curved upwards and nearly scraped the roof of the room, and blue smoke came snorting out the skeleton's nose, eyes, and mouth.

She heard the person's scream as Rider grabbed her with his bony hands and dragged her towards the edge of the boat. More pleading, like the other assistant as she was thrown overboard.

Izolda took another drink.

Rider returned to Izolda, casting his appearance into the darkness once again. "Well, 26 ain't a bad start, now is it?"

Izolda shrugged. "We need more."

"'Course we need more. But it'll be easy ta get more. Yer human lives er so short and easy ta clip away at. Better yet, none of ye hardly react when more of ye start disappearin'. We'll have enough in three days time."

Izolda nodded. "Good. Get to work."

Rider laughed and dived over the edge of the boat, disappearing into the dark waters below.

The Master of Caster looked out over the city from the giant window in his penthouse, his arms folded behind his back. Caster appeared behind him.

"You live quite lushly for someone who has no means of gaining currency."

The Master of Caster kept his eyes out towards the city. "I have my ways. Gaining money and support has never been an issue for me."

Caster moved to her master's side. "You haven't reconsidered telling me your name?"

"What difference would that make?"

Caster shrugged and inched a bit closer. "I might like you better."

The Master of Caster glanced at her and moved away, back into the penthouse. "I have better things to do than to give in to basic animal desires."

Caster sighed. "You're not very fun."

"I'm taking necessary precautions to ensure my own survival, that makes me not fun?" the Master of Caster replied, moving to a chair and sitting in it, looking up at a work of art on the wall. Caster walked over next to him.

"When all you do is stare at art all day, I would say so. Say… has anyone ever requested to use your bald head as a canvas?"

The Master of Caster ignored her, keeping his eyes on the painting in front of him.

Caster leaned down, moving one of her arms around his shoulders, the other arm touching his forearm. "You know… some consider the female body a work of art."

The Master of Caster pulled his arm away. "I prefer my art to be painted."

Caster leaned in and whispered into his ear, "I'll pose."

"You're wasting your time, Caster. I won't fall for your tricks. I am resolute in winning this Holy Grail War," the Master of Caster continued, standing up from his chair and moving away from Caster.

Caster gave another sigh, letting herself fall into the vacant space he had left in the chair. "So am I, I just hate how your strategy is to stay hidden. I don't mind letting the rabble sort themselves out and only having to fight one or two enemies… but that's a lot of waiting with nothing to do."

"There is plenty to do, so long as you appreciate the finer things in life and don't dedicate your entire being to sex and hatred."

"There is nothing finer in life than sex and hatred."

The Master of Caster looked over at her. "I should've known you'd say something like that."

"Oh? Have you uncovered my identity so easily?"

"I purposefully summoned you. Your abilities are nothing to be ashamed of."

"Oh please. I would do so much better in this war if I weren't a Caster," she responded, stretching out.

"Nonsense. I work best with Casters," the Master of Caster explained, moving to the counter to pour himself a drink.

"Oh? A veteran, then? Don't tell me you were in the previous Holy Grail War?"

The Master of Caster didn't respond.

Caster let out a laugh. "Not responding is as good as confirming it. Well, at least my Master is someone who knows what they're doing… a girl can appreciate that."

The Master of Caster moved to the fireplace with a glass of water. He knelt down, staring into the flames. "And how do you know that? I might be a coward, who ran away and let his servant take the fall."

"Yes… you could. But you're not. I don't like to give myself compliments but… actually, I love doing that. Any man who can resist me has quite substantial willpower. You're not the type to just run away because you're afraid or because it's easier. Besides, I'm not meant for direct combat. If you run, I'll run with you."

The Master of Caster took a long drink but didn't look away from the fire. "We will win. I promise."

"And in the meantime?"

The Master of Caster turned and threw out his hand. A pistol suddenly appeared in it, and he fired.

"We stay alert. You never know who is watching," the Master of Caster replied, watching as the familiar outside the window fell, disappearing.

Caster ran a few fingers through her hair. She stood up from the chair.

Truthfully, the Master of Caster had no idea if she was as beautiful as she said due to her wearing a mask molded to look like a face. Her hair was black and her skin was pale. She wore white robes that complimented her figure, and allowed for easy viewing of her cleavage and legs. She sometimes held a wooden staff that looked as though it had a snake coiling around it. "You have a good eye."

"No, I just know what a smart person would do. We are in a tall tower, the best view of the city is from up here. Many familiars will be coming here, and they'll find us instead."

"Not a very good hiding place."

"Well… that's why we have your Noble Phantasm, isn't it?"

Caster looked at him and cocked her head to the side. The Master of Caster couldn't tell, but he was fairly certain she was smiling.

Assassin stepped into the belltower. The church had been abandoned a long time ago, making it the perfect location for his Master to be stowed away in.

"I've done a lot of preliminary scouting. I already have identified at least two servant's True Names, Lancer and Berserker. I'm sure I know Caster, but I want to confirm first. Saber, Archer, and Rider, on the other hand, will have to require a bit more research on my part. I'll find a Library and steal a few books," Assassin spoke out loud. He knew his Master wouldn't respond to him. He was more speaking for his own benefit than anyone else's.

Assassin sat down on the edge of the belltower, keeping one leg inside it and the other leg loose, hanging over the edge to the city.

"Funny how easy Servants let their True Names be revealed without even saying a word. Naive. Their Masters are even more so, thinking hiding behind the servant's Class Name will make them more difficult to uncover. That in and of itself is not such a bad thing, but the overconfidence it gives them is where the fault lies. Always letting go certain details of their servants past unintentionally… so very naive."

Assassin's Master fidgeted a little with her hands. Assassin paid the action no mind.

"All Masters are naive. Especially the ones that use relics to summon their servant. They think that the servant will be exactly like their legend. And then they find out the horrible truth about their hero."

Assassin swung his leg back into the belltower and moved towards his Master. "You think that just because the legend of Robin Hood is one that paints him in the light of a hero that he suddenly wouldn't harm innocents? That he was a kind and lovable rogue who gave to the poor?"

Assassin knelt down in front of his Master, not minding the blood getting on his pants. "I was nothing of the sort. I was a criminal, plain and simple. The legends distorted that - justified my actions anyway they could to soften the blow of that dreadful era. But you idiots in this era love their heroes to the point that they couldn't bother to do any research into the real Robin Hood, could you? And look where it got you."

Assassin's Master closed her eyes tightly. "You think I'm gonna kill you? I wouldn't have a Mana source if I did that. No, I need you to live and give me all that precious Mana you have. But I can't have a naive fool getting offended over my actions and killing me with a Command Seal, either."

Assassin reached down and his Master braced herself as he forced her mouth open. Assassin used the moonlight to look in. "Wound is healing fine. That's good. Unfortunate Command Seals can only be activated vocally, huh? I'll be sure to bring you food and to keep you healthy, don't worry about that. Of course, you will eat the food I bring and you won't prevent the Mana flow between us, right? If you did something stupid like that… I'd have to take Mana by force, and believe me, I don't want to have to do something as despicable as that anymore than you do. Got me?"

Tears began to spill from her eyes as Assassin let her face go. She laid there for a second. Assassin's gloved fist came down right next to her head, cracking the stone beneath it.

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

Assassin's Master began nodding in a panic. Assassin got up again, and he moved to the side of the belltower.

"There's still a lot to do tonight… don't run away. I'll always find you."

Assassin jumped, slowly becoming darker and darker as he vanished into the shadows.

Uhlan read the paper in front of him while he reclined back at his desk. The servant girl came in and sheepishly asked if he would like anything, and he responded with a request for tea. She returned some minutes later holding a platter with a tea kettle and a cup on it, and shakily placed it on the table in front of him. He thanked her and gave her a smile, which made her grow red and bow to try and hide her face. She turned and went to leave the room, but Uhlan stopped her and asked her what her name was, and after being answered, he asked if she'd like to accompany him to dinner tonight, to which she responded with a few murmurs and a nod.

"You mustn't lose focus," the Eighth Servant spoke from the corner. The servant girl screamed and ran from the room.

Uhlan gave his servant a look. "You don't have to comment on everything."

"I hardly do. You starting a romance is not what you ought to be concentrated on."

Uhlan laughed. "I wasn't starting a romance, I just asked her to dinner."

The Eighth Servant nodded and crossed his arms. "I think you are lying. If you aren't, I shall be equally disappointed."

Uhlan had to admit that the way that Servant spoke… it had an effect on people. Uhlan had often been popular with women, but that Servant hardly had to utter a word and people would either flee in terror or bow down in respect. He just had that kind of voice.

Uhlan envied him.

"Didn't you say you were going on a pilgrimage?" Uhlan asked, returning his eyes to the report.

"Yes, but I shall not leave, lest I know you're safe."

"I'll be fine. We've run into a bit of luck, actually. As it turns out, there are eight servants summoned for this war, and one of them is masquerading as you."

"Me?"

"Not you as in you. But they're Master is convinced that the Servant takes up the class spot reserved for you. In other words, they are the true eighth servant. An aberration. You are the real deal, there's no doubt about that."

"I had no doubt. This new servant… are they strong?"

"Compared to you, of course not. You are a candidate to be a Grand Servant. Even if they were very strong, compared to you, they would be nothing. More importantly, now that everyone thinks they're the correct servant of this war, they won't even have a need to suspect you exist, and therefore won't have a reason to try and find me. When we reveal ourselves, it will take them all by surprise."

The Eighth Servant nodded and moved closer to Uhlan's desk, his full set of silver armor clanking as it moved. "I must apologize for my absence."

Uhlan waved his hand through the air. "I understand your need. Go, find what you need to find in this era. If anything, it will give me time to analyze our enemies."

"You will summon me if innocent blood is spilt? The survival of humankind takes precedence."

Uhlan nodded. "Yes, of course I will."

The Eighth Servant bowed and disappeared into his spirit form.

Uhlan let out a sigh. Good. With him gone, I don't have to be so careful about what I monitor. My work is too important to let him recklessly attack those that harm innocents. This is a Holy Grail War taking place at the crossroads of human history, and a servant as powerful as him could very well decide it by himself, Uhlan thought to himself.

But he needed his own will to be imprinted on the outcome of this war. In a way, all those taking part needed that as well.

Uhlan peered out at the moon beginning to duck behind the buildings of the city. This was the Final Holy Grail War. The end had come.