#McFarrell

[the-dark-ghost]

Surely This Is All For Me

I recently started to think that there are actually very few fanfics for the second season of True Detective. (I know very well that it is not at all similar to the first season and that it is not close to being the same in quality by far, but come on, are there really so few fics?)

It turns out that I have some kind of idea about two of the characters from both seasons.

Rust Cohle and Ray Velcoro

I just think they would make an excellent duo. There isn't a very good explanation, I just think that because of their different personalities, things could work out between the two of them. (Or very bad too, who knows?). Summarizing all this idiocy, I leave you one of the stupidest fanfics I've ever written:

Rust is not a very good talker, in fact, he is far from it. He hasn't bothered to socialize at school since he arrived two and a half months ago from Texas.

Ray is not new at all, he has been at the institute since his first year but in any case his character has not given him a good reputation. He doesn't have a single friend and too many people don't like him, too many people to stop and count.

During a normal day at school, both Rust and Ray end up detention for various reasons. When Professor Hart gives the detention students the task of organizing three school sites as punishment, Rust and Ray end up in the same group and finally meet, while having to clean up the mess in the school library.

•

It's ridiculous, but you might give it a chance and end up liking it, even if just a little :)

By the way, for some reason I also published it on Wattpad xd.

#marty hart #rust cohle #nic pizzolatto #true detective #Ray Velcoro #colin farrell #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #ao3 link #ao3 writer #angst #daddy issues #mommy issues #school #high school #AU #au fanfiction #true detective season 1 #true detective season 2 #Rust Cohle x Ray Velcoro #i ship them #Colmatt #McFarrell #rayrust #velcohle

[fate-ad2021]

17. “Aftermath and Next Steps”

Session 17, Apr 23, 2017

Word count: 7,044 words

In-Game Dates: Sunday, June 13, 2021 and Monday, June 14, 2021

In which everyone catches up, gets some sleep, and begins to make future plans.

I. News of the Aftermath

It is around 10pm by the time everyone convenes at the safe house. The office building team comes leaping in about an hour after the farmhouse team, with Archer and Val supporting Saber between them.  Once inside, Caster finally agrees to drop all disguises; he takes on the Hanged Man form and returns Val to his own.

Assassin takes over for Val and helps Archer take Saber back to the “basement” room.  There, she checks over their new ally:  his right arm is withered up to just above the elbow, and he has suffered severe energy drain from the death seal.  Which Archer standing close by, she begins to work on a poultice to speed the regrow of his arm.  She doubts that she can entirely fix the damage that the energy drain has done, especially considering how short their time together will likely be.  With luck, though, she will be able to help him regrow the arm if he rests for at least a day.

In the living room, Caster turns to Jim.  “You should call Reines.  She should know about all of this.”

“Hey!”  Val exclaims. “Why him, and not me?”

“Because you didn’t even tell her after you got geised.”  Caster snaps back.

As the others nod in agreement, Val huffs and crosses his arms. “You’re all ganging up on me.  At least Saber loves me.”

“Saber doesn’t—”

Val’s War phone interrupts Jim’s protest.  Val pulls out the phone with a flourish and answers it: “Yo, Orsino.”

“Good evening, Valentin,” Orsino greets him.  “I trust you all got home safely.”

“Yup, we’re all here!  All—” he pauses to count, “—eight of us.”

“Eight?” Orsino marvels, his tone amused.  “So you’ve picked up another stray?”

“Yup!  I contracted with Saber after Vasilyevich tried to get him to kill us.”

Orsino hums.  “Your group certainly has a way with that.  Speaking of Vasilyevich, I called to inform you that he tragically did not make it very far from the farmhouse.  I’m sure you’re all saddened to hear of his demise.”

“Yeah, we’re really broken up over it.”  Val lifts the phone away from his ear and calls to the general house:  “Ding dong, the bitch is dead!”

Orsino’s response is lost amidst the cheers from Val’s allies. When things have quieted down, the Executor goes on, “…At any rate, he managed to set off several more death seals as a last ditch effort, but I don’t believe that any of them led to casualties. They did not seem to be particularly well targeted.  I was able to get teams together to begin scouring the city; we will work around the clock until Rome is free of this affliction.”

“That’s great,” Val replies, “Thanks for handling that.  I’m glad they’re finally taking it seriously.”

“So am I.”  Then, away from the phone:  “Ah, yes, Rider?  Are you making tea?  I suppose that’s better than the strong drink I was about to pour… Yes, I’ll join you in a moment.”  He comes back and tells Val, “I’ll give you a more full report in the morning, or the afternoon, or whenever we all awaken.”

“Alright,” Val tells him, “Get some sleep, old man.”

Orsino laughs and bids him good night, then hangs up.

Lancer, Siobhan, Caster, Jim, and Assassin remain in the living room, and Val summarizes the conversation for them.  Archer remains with Saber in the back room; their respective Masters are unable to contact them, and they seem to want some privacy.

With confirmation of Vasilyevich’s death, Jim decides to ring Reines to give her a detailed update.  The phone gives barely half a ring before Reines picks up.  “Hello?”  She sounds haggard.

“Hi, Reines,” Jim greets her.  “So we’re all alive, despite Val’s best efforts.  Before you start yelling, I’m gonna hand you over to him.  Bye!”

“W-wait!  What--?”

With that, Jim puts it on speaker and tosses it to Val.  Val catches the phone deftly and holds it away from his face.  “Hi, Reines…”

“Bartholemieu Allesandro Baptiste Iadanza DuPont—” Val balks, as much at the revelation of his entire name as at the volume with which it is delivered.  “What. Just.  Happened.”

“Uh,” Val gulps, “You want the short version or—”

“The short version, if you please.”

“Vasilyevich is dead and Saber is on our side.”

Caster blinks at his Master.  “So you are capable of giving a short version!”

“Give me the slightly less short version, if you please,” Reines requests.

“Uh, we almost died?  Well, okay, that’s not quite right.  Jim’s party is fine.”

“Where did I go wrong?”  Reines laments aloud.  “How did we get to this point?”

“The actual good news,” Jim breaks in, “is that we’re now allied with every Servant on the board except for the dead one and the mystery eighth one.” He pauses, more for memory collection than for effect, then adds, “Also we have Vasilyevich’s notes.”

That gets Reines’s attention.  “You have the notes?  And… Vasilyevich is dead.”

“And we have Saber!”  Val reminds her.

“Yes, yes, and you have Saber,” Reines acknowledges, and the group can practically hear her waving the statement away.  “But more importantly, you have the notes.  What format are they in?”

Jim touches the laptop that has not left his side since they got home. “He handed over his laptop.  Said the password’s on the bottom, but we haven’t tried it yet.  The thing is probably encrypted.  We’re afraid of messing it up.”

“Caster?”  Reines asks.

“Yes?”  the Servant replies.

“Could you please give me a slightly more detailed version of tonight’s events?”

“Well,” the Hanged Man begins, “it started when Val got a phone call from Vasilyevich, who tricked him into accepting a geis that bound him to a meeting.  But the geis didn’t say that he couldn’t bring friends, so of course we did.”

“Why do masterminds never think of these things?” Reines’s tone is bemused and bewildered.

Jim says what they are all thinking:  “For being the guy responsible for planning all this, he’s been pretty bad at it.”

“So you went to this meeting…” Reines prompts.

The rest of the story spills out in chunks:  the discovery of the farmhouse base, the phone call to Orsino, meeting with Rider, clearing the office building and battling Saber, escaping that death seal, the new contract, and finally Jim tricking Vasilyevich into the self-geis.  Reines listens patiently, stopping them when they try to get into detail, with the explanation that “You can tell me more when you get back safely.”

When they are finished communicating the gist of it, Reines is quiet for a moment, considering.  Then she asks, “Are Lancer and her Master there?”

“We are,” Siobhan answers.

“Could I ask you to step away for a few moments?  I’d like to speak with my champions in private.”

“Certainly.”

“The Servants, as well,” Reines adds as Siobhan and Lancer retreat to one of the rooms.

“Pardon?”  Caster and Assassin sound equally affronted.

“Your Masters can choose to tell you what they want,” Reines replies sharply, “but there is a matter about which I wish to speak to them alone.”

Jim and Val both shrug at their Servants and make shooing motions. The Servants exchange a frown and shuffle back the hall together.

(Once there, they dampen their mental connections to their Masters and conduct a brief pantomimed conversation:  Assassin will go spy on Archer and Saber while Caster sneaks back to the living room to spy on the Masters’ conversation.  They both go incorporeal and head off to their missions.)

Once the two Masters have confirmed that they are apparently alone in the room, Reines goes on.  “Now that you have the notes, what do you plan to do?”

Val and Jim study different points on the walls in thought. After a long pause, Val answers, “We need to make sure this thing isn’t trapped.  We haven’t exactly examined it yet, but there’s a chance that Vasilyevich built triggers and traps into it in case it ever got stolen.”

Jim nods.  “For all we know, we make one wrong move…”

“And boom,” Reines finished with a sigh.  “Well, if none of you are confident enough in your abilities to decrypt it, our best shot is for you to just bring it back here.  That’s why I wanted your Servants to leave – they’re not going to be happy about being pulled out of the War to—”

“Why don’t you just send Vol?”  Jim interrupts her.

“I… I didn’t think of that,” Reines admits.  “I’m not sure she can do her… magic thing again so soon after going to retrieve McFarrell.”  Another pause, then, “She just confirmed that she couldn’t.  But… that gives me an idea.  Let me make some calls and I’ll send her down with someone as soon as I can.”

“Ok.”

“Now,” she goes on, “tell me what he wanted.  What was he doing with this Grail?”

Val gives the short answer:  “Killing people.”

“I know that, with the seals, but what about the Grail itself?”

“No, that really was what he was doing,” Jim insists.  “Before he gave us the notes, he told us that with the way he built this one, if it were just filled normally with the Servants’ energy, then it would blow up and destroy the Vatican.  Adding in the power of the death seals and all the civilian casualties, it was going to melt down and destroy all of Rome.”

“That’s… That’s bad.”

“Yeah, we got that.  Do you have any idea how to deactivate it?”

“I’ve never dealt with this kind of ritual before.  Did he say what would happen if it’s partially filled with death magic and partially with Servant energy?  How many instances of casualties have there been?”

“Three from death seals, we think,” Val answers, “plus one Servant.”

“We don’t know what the thresholds are, though,” Jim admits, “it could be as early as seven, or it could be not until thirteen.  We won’t even have a chance of knowing until we can get a look at those notes.  Oh, and Orsino confirmed that it’s the Cauldron of Rebirth.  I don’t remember if we told you that.  It’s in the Vatican; maybe he can work on getting it defused when he’s done taking down the rest of the seals.”

“So we can hope.  I’ll send someone down as soon as possible to help with the notes.  Hang tight until then.”

Val nods.  “You got it. We all could use the rest.”

They can hear typing on her end, then Reines goes on, “How are you going to end all this?  You said you’re allied with the remaining Servants; do you intend to keep it that way? Or will you go back to fighting?”

“We’re staying together,” Val replies firmly, looking to Jim for confirmation that comes with a nod.  “We need to fix the eighth Servant problem.  Whether we can reason with them, or whether we have to fight them, we can do that best as a group.”

“Valentin…” Reines says slowly, “Are we talking about the same being? The very same one who wiped out a Servant’s boundary field and erased all traces of magic from an area?  Does this sound like someone who can be reasoned with?”

“Yes,” Val says, as Jim scoffs, “No.”

Reines sighs.  “If that is the route you try, I wish you luck in it.  But don’t die to this thing, alright?”

“Sure,” they agree.

“Finally,” Reines adds, “have you thought about what happens after?”

“What do you mean?” Jim asks.

“After the eighth Servant is stopped, and you’ve defused the bomb, what happens?  What are you going to do with your Servants?”

“Uh?” Val prompts, exchanging a confused look with Jim. “What usually happens to them at the end of a War?”

“Well, usually when they die, their energy gets poured into the Grail and their consciousness just fades away.  But usually hardly applies in this situation. According to everything we know, these spirits are just copies of the people they once were.  They’ve been taken from the Throne of Heroes, copied, and given bodies.  But as we saw with the American Wars, and even some of the Fuyuki Wars, Servants aren’t always contented with that cycle.  That could be a point of contention.”

Jim looks pointedly at Val, who grimaces.  They are both thinking the same thing:  Caster is never going along with this plan.

“Well,” Jim says slowly, “It’s something to think about.  The Servants are probably thinking about it too.”

With that covered, the two of them bid Reines good night and hang up. Val calls out to the Servants to show themselves (“Caster, I know you were listening!”), but nothing happens. The Masters exchange a shrug and head off to find their Servants.

II. Fools of the Round Table

By the time Assassin creeps into the room, invisible and undetectable, Archer has helped Saber remove his armor and settle into the bed. The weakened knight is propped up on pillows, much as Stella had been in the wake of her surgery.  Archer is in a chair beside the bed.  The two are silent, both of them avoiding the other’s gaze.

Assassin is just starting to wonder if she came back here for nothing when they both speak at once.

“Why did you stay?” Archer asks, as Saber asks, “Why did you leave?”

Startled by each other’s questions, they stare at one another for a moment before chuckling nervously.

Archer answers first.  “I… I was so unhappy.  Arthur was so…” he huffs, “Stubborn.  And difficult.  And distant, by God, he was distant.  That’s no way to rule a kingdom.  You could never tell if he didn’t care, or if he didn’t feel, or if he just didn’t know how to act.  I wanted to believe that he cared about the common people, but over time, it became so hard to hold on to that.  If he really did care, he was such rubbish at showing it.  And he certainly didn’t think like the people did.”

Saber shakes his head.  “Where you saw apathy, I saw strength.  I saw resolve not to let his emotions make decisions for him.  When you’re responsible for so many people, when they’re all looking up to you, I think you must become somewhat detached.  He never acted as though he was above the rest of us…”

“Really?  Because after a while, that’s all it seemed to be.”

“Even so, we stood by him through so much.  After Lancelot left, I thought…”  Saber pauses, and Assassin is surprised to see him blink away tears.

Archer must be surprised as well, because his expression softens. “You thought I would stay, to keep everything together.”

Saber nods.

“Well, you know me:  the Minstrel Knight, I do nothing but feel.  Arthur was just too hard to relate to.  Eventually, I came to realize that I didn’t belong, so I left.”

Saber answers with a wry smile.  Archer watches him for a moment longer before murmuring, “But you stayed. All the way until…”

“Until Mordred rebelled.  The King left me to defend his throne.  There was a time when that would have been Lancelot, but… by then, it was me. When I faced Mordred’s charge, I only wished…”

Archer places a hand on his friend’s shoulder.  “When I learned, I wished that I’d been there.”

Saber nods.  “What’s done is done, though.”  He reaches up with his good hand to squeeze Archer’s.  “Can we agree to work together once more?”

Archer smiles at him.  “I would like that.”

“Although,” Saber laughs, “I don’t know how that will work out. It seems like we have everyone here.”

Assassin watches Archer’s expression fall.  “Although that seems to be the case, there is… How much did your old Master tell you about the structure of the War?”

Saber shakes his head, his expression growing troubled to match the other knight’s.  “I’m afraid I’ve been fairly well out of the loop.  What did I miss, that the rest of you know?”

“There is an eighth Servant,” Archer admits, “and a general fear that it might be the King.”

Saber’s face becomes a portrait of dismay.  Archer backpedals a little, “I remain unconvinced, but the Lady Assassin has mentioned it and it sounds like they have strong evidence that this person is at least another of the Round Table Knights.  But… I wanted to warn you.  There is the chance.”

Saber closes his eyes and breathes deep and slow.  “Thank you for the warning.  Truly, I appreciate it.  That’s a terrible revelation for anyone other than a friend to deliver.”

After a moment of silence between them, Archer asks quietly, “Do you think you could fight him?”

It takes Saber another long moment to answer.

“Truly, I do not know.”

Assassin creeps back out of the room as they return to silence.  This, she thinks, is definitely a problem that we should discuss.

And as she creeps back into the living room, she realizes that the knights are not the only ones whose loyalty is in question.

III. Nighttime Conversation

When Jim finally finds Caster, it is after he has made three laps around the house to finally find the Servant in the kitchen where Jim started. Caster looks up from his tea at Jim’s exasperated sigh, a perfectly innocent expression on his face.

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah.  Can you soundproof my room so I can get some sleep?  Having this many people around is going to drive me insane.”

“Certainly,” Caster nods.  “I can do that for all the rooms, actually.  Except perhaps Valentin’s… Maybe that would be better suited for a reverse soundproofing.  Who cares about keeping the sound out of his room?  Let’s just keep all of his noise in.”

“Sounds good to me!”

Caster sets to work on that, and Jim retreats to his claimed room to sleep as soon as the enchantment is in place there.  Once all the rooms have been appropriately enchanted, Caster once again changes the “basement” room, this time transforming it into a barracks with multiple beds.  Satisfied with that – and with the cleverness of placing a single non-material upper bunk bed in the mix – he retreats to his workshop to prepare his next weapon.

Val, for his part, is on his way to see Saber.  He passes Archer on the way back the hall, and knocks on the door that has been left partially open.

“Come in.”  When Val enters, Saber pulls himself up from his slouch in the pillows.  “Ah, hello, Master.”

“Hey,” Val greets him, “can we chat?”

“For a bit, although I might kick you out so I can sleep. Assassin’s orders.”

Val laughs and takes the seat that Archer had occupied.  “So, I don’t actually know that much about you, and I would like to fix that.”

Saber sighs and shrugs.  “Very well.  What would you like to know?”

Val mirrors his new Servant’s shrug.  “I don’t know – anything, really.  I know what some of the legends say, but I don’t know you as a person.  Besides, we didn’t exactly get off to the best start.”

Saber gives him a weary smile.  “I suppose we did not.  Very well. You know I was a Knight of the Round Table.  I served the king and Camelot faithfully until I was killed by Mordred.  There really isn’t much else to say.”

“Well, Mordred’s dead, so we’re fine on that front.”

“So you said, yes,” Saber acknowledges.  “Did you face his Noble Phantasm?”

Val nods.  “Yeah, it was kind of like yours.  But… scarier. No offense.”

Saber laughs, coughs, shakes his head.  “None meant, none taken.  Unfortunately, that was probably the only chance you will have to see Galatine in action.”

“Huh?”

Saber lifts his withered limb, wrapped in Assassin’s bandages.  “Servants cannot break one another’s Noble Phantasms, but we can sacrifice our own.  Remember Grigori’s final order to me?  I had to sacrifice Galatine to carry it out.  My arm will recover, given time and sufficient magic, but Galatine is gone for good, I’m afraid.”

“I wonder if Caster can make you a replacement,” Val muses out loud. Feeling a sense of alarm from Caster, he dampens their connection.

“What do you mean?” Saber asks.

“Well, that’s kind of his thing,” Val explains, “He makes Noble Phantasm quality objects.  I don’t know if they’re true Noble Phantasms or not, but they work just as well.”

“So I recall,” Saber acknowledges, absently touching his shoulder where the hunting dogs had mauled him.  “That is a truly rare gift.  I can think of only a few sorcerers in history who are powerful enough to casually generate Noble Phantasms.”

Val blinks, seeing the wheels begin to turn in Saber’s head. “Uh, well… Don’t keep yourself awake thinking about it.  You need some rest.  Assassin’s orders.”

“Right, of course,” Saber agrees, although he is clearly still considering.  “Perhaps I will speak to Caster in the morning about this possibility.  Thank you for letting me know.  Was there anything else that you wanted to speak with me about?  As you said yourself, I do need to rest.”

Val hesitates, then admits, “I am a little bit worried about your loyalty.  I know you were loyal to Vasilyevich because you had to be, and I’m not worried about your doing something weird like turning on us to complete his mission or something.  But what if something else happens?  Something that could test your new loyalty to us.  Is there anything you would turn on us for?”

Gawain falls silent and stares into space for a while.  Then he responds, “My loyalty will remain with you as long as your mission remains to destroy the Grail.  The only thing that could test that would be the return of my king, but that seems incredibly unlikely.”

“Well…” Gawain raises an eyebrow at Val until he goes on, “That’s, uh, actually something that the rest of us have been worried about as well.”

Saber says nothing, but he seems surprised, and Val remembers that he was kept in a bubble with only Vasilyevich for contact.

“Look, there’s too much to tell you tonight, but suffice it to say that it’s not as unlikely as you might think for King Arthur to show up and wreck everything.  Or, I mean, maybe some variant or something, I don’t know.  The point is, if he does show up… Would you follow him again?”

Saber breathes deeply and slowly before giving his reply.  “If he is my king as he was in life, then I will not lie:  we may have a problem.  But I don’t…” He sighs.  “This Grail is not Holy, as it is called.  I do not know what chance there is that the king would manifest, but I suspect that with this thing being corrupted as it is, there is very little chance that the person who would manifest would be my king as I knew him. We can cross that bridge when we arrive there.  As it stands for now, I will remain loyal to you and yours.  I cannot promise how good I’ll be—” he jokingly waves the arm again, “—but I will try.  All I ask is a second chance.”

Val beams at him.  “Good. We’re definitely good at those.” He stands to leave, then sits down again, remembering:  “Oh, did you have any questions for us?”

Saber shrugs.  “I was curious about your other allies.  It sounds as though you are allied with Rider and Lancer as well?”

“Yeah,” Val answers, “we don’t know who Rider is, but we do know Lancer’s identity, and we’re friends with both of their Masters.  Orsino – that’s Rider’s Master – is a good guy, and Siobhan – Lancer’s Master – is dating Jim.  Er, not that that’s why we have an alliance.  I knew her first, but…”

Saber holds up his good hand.  “I’m sure I’ll pick up the full story over the next few days.  If you don’t mind, I would like to rest.”

“Sure, sure,” Val nods as he heads toward the door.  “I might keep poking you with questions…”

“And I might shut you off so I can sleep.”

Val laughs and retreats to his room.

IV. Morning Chatter

Jim awakens the following morning at around 9 o’clock and shuffles out to get breakfast in the peace and quiet of the morning.  He is surprised to find Assassin already up with coffee brewing.  Siobhan and Lancer emerge a few moments later, and together the four of them make breakfast from what they can scrounge in the kitchen.  It is quiet and polite, with only a few necessary words spoken between them.

When Caster emerges to join them near 10 o’clock, he feels a querying sensation from Saber.  Clearly the newest addition is figuring out how to use their Master as a relay to the other Servant, even as Val remains asleep.

Caster accepts the communication.  “Yes?”

“Ah, there you are.  I was wondering if we could talk.”

“Certainly,” Caster replies, as Archer emerges from the barracks.  “Should I send Archer to help you out?”

“If you don’t mind it.”

Caster is a little confused, but shrugs and asks Archer for the favor.  Archer gladly obliges, and a few moments later brings Saber limping into the living room. At the sight of nearly all of their allies in one place, though, the knight hesitates.

“This is… quite a few more people than I expected.”

“These Masters have a habit of collecting strays,” Caster explains dryly.

“I meant, there are more people here than I expected to see right now,” Saber explains, “I had hoped to speak with you in private, Emrys.”

Caster finds himself grateful not for the first time in this War for his skill at keeping a straight face.  He is grateful too for Assassin’s discretion; she gives no indication of recognizing his old name.

“We can speak,” Caster replies, projecting polite confusion, “but I’m afraid I don’t recognize… whatever it is that you called me.”

Saber’s expression moves from being calmly assured of himself to being calmly mortified.  He opens his mouth, closes it again, exchanges a confused glance with Archer, and finally settles on, “Ah, I apologize.  It’s a name that we called powerful sorcerers in my time.  You are the Servant Caster, are you not?”

Caster shrugs.  “Usually. What can I do for you?”

Saber draws in a breath and collects himself before making his request. “Our Master tells me that you’re capable of building Noble Phantasm weapons.  I wondered if I could speak with you about acquiring one.”

Caster’s response is a mildly irritated, “Ah.”  Saber is silent while Caster mulls this over.  Finally, the magus replies, “It is true that I make weapons and it is true that I can imbue them with… powerful abilities. But… maintaining more than one is a strain on my energy and I would rather prioritize making my own armaments. I could make you an ordinary blade, but nothing like Excalibur Galatine that you had before.”

Assassin chooses then to chime in, “I might be of assistance, actually.” Saber turns to her in surprise. She explains, “I was able to enchant gloves for my Master that allow him to… well, to punch Servants.  Since some of us are…” She casts a baleful glare at Jim, mulling over the best way to put it, “Reckless, and fragile, and required more martial assistance.”

Saber chuckles.  “Fragile? Any of you?  Really?”

Assassin turns her glare to him for his humor, but he seems to be sincere.  “Anyway, if we can get you a sword, I may be able to enchant it to strike faster and truer. As Caster said, it wouldn’t be anything like Galatine, but we could equip you with a weapon.”

Saber nods and gives her a beaming smile.  “I’ll think on your offer.  First priority should be fixing this—” he waves his arm like a chicken wing, “—but then we can discuss weaponry.  I’ll leave you all to breakfast so I can rest.”

(As the two Knights turn back the hall, Jim can hear Archer’s words through their connection:  “It wasn’t a bad guess!  But even if he is who you think he is, he’ll never tell.  You remember how that man was in life.”)

In the living room, Caster turns back to the group to see Lancer studying him very carefully, an oddly knowing smile on her face.  Siobhan has a similar expression, while Assassin and Jim are very studiously not looking at him.

“What?!” he demands.  “Why is everyone giving me that look?”

Lancer bursts out laughing.  “I don’t know what just happened, and I don’t think I ever will, and I’m okay with that!  At least you’re on our side!”

As they finish breakfast and begin to clean up, Siobhan bumps elbows with Jim.  “Hey,” she murmurs, “can we talk?”

“Um?”

“Not like – oh, god, that sounded bad.  I didn’t mean it like – I just wanna chat, is all.  Join me on the porch?”

He dutifully follows her out, catching Assassin’s eye on the way and shrugging.

Morning traffic has died down, leaving them with the peace and quiet of a warm June Monday.  Siobhan grabs one of the porch seats while Jim leans against the railing.

“I assume you want me to turn off the connection to Assassin?”

“Would you mind?”

Jim sighs, and does so.  “What’s this about?”

Siobhan takes a moment to collect herself, then tells him, “I need a copy of the notes.”

Birds chirp in the silence between them.  “Why?”

“I had one job…”

“Same as ours?”

“You got it.”

“For the Restoration?”

“That’s it.”  While Jim is thinking about it, she goes on, “Look, I know how computers work:  I’m pretty I could figure out how to copy them and then I’d just have them to take back with me.  It’s not like I’m gonna abandon you.  Lancer and I talked it over last night; this thing is bad and you’re gonna need all the help you can get.  I just wanna make sure that when this is all over, I don’t go back to my people empty-handed.”

“I hear you,” Jim says slowly, “and I get it, but I’m not sure that’s the best idea.  What if something goes wrong trying to decrypt it?  Reines has someone on the way who can help.  I don’t know how the Restoration is with stuff like this, but if there’s a hidden trigger in there that sets off something bad, I’d hate to see you take that back with you.”

Siobhan considers this and nods.  “That’s fair.  I’d hate to see that too.  I can wait for Reines’ person; like I said, I’m not in a hurry to leave.  And it would be helpful to have the notes already decrypted when I bring them home.”

(As she speaks, Jim opens his connection to Assassin back up and relays all of this, an undercurrent of panic in his thoughts. Assassin’s response comes swiftly and firmly:  this decision belongs to all of them; they were all involved in getting the plans, in some way or another, so they should all discuss the future together.  She does wonder, though, what Siobhan thinks her people plan to do with the notes.)

Jim frowns in thought, then offers, “Reines tells us that she wants the plans so she can figure out how to head this off, probably to end the possibility of future Wars.  Plus, she had family that died in previous Wars and I think she just wants to understand it.”  He pauses, then asks, “What does the Restoration want?”

Siobhan bites her lips and stares off into the distance. “Honestly, I’m not sure.  It was one thing when we thought it was a wish. With something like this, we could wish for… for anything.  For freedom, for justice, for… power.”  She shakes her head hard enough to ruffle her hair.  “But it’s not that, is it?  It’s not a magic wish-machine.  It’s a bomb. The Restoration is good people, but… Good is a thing that you do, y’know?  I dunno if there’s any good that could come out of this.  On the one hand, I want to do my job, get the notes, go home. But on the other hand… I dunno if I could trust anyone with this, knowing now what it does.���

Jim nods.  “I’m starting to think the same thing.”

“Even about Reines?”

“Even about Reines,” he confirms, “but in the end, we have a stake in what happens here.  I think we should talk to the others about it.  We can all decide together.”

Siobhan agrees.  They re-enter the house to find Val curled up on the couch drinking coffee and Assassin perched on the back of chair, staring fixedly at Siobhan like a cat.  Siobhan glances at Jim, who gives her a confused shrug. “Did you let her in on that?”

“Um?”

“I’ll admit, I let Lancer in.”

Jim chuckles and rubs the back of his neck.  “Ok, you got me.  But not until after I knew what you wanted to talk about.”

Siobhan laughs as well and pats his arm.  “Don’t worry – if I’d just wanted privacy to snog you, I wouldn’t have let Lancer see that.”

“…Uh.”  Jim blinks at her like his brain just shorted out.

“I wouldn’t have wanted to see that!” Lancer calls from the kitchen.

“Nobody wants to see that,” Archer adds, emerging from the hallway. “By the way, does anyone have a phone I can borrow?”

“How many do you need?” Val asks.

Archer stares at him.  “One? I… I need one phone.”  Everyone else just shrugs when he looks around for support against the ridiculous question.  “I just wanted to call Stella.”

Val tosses him a phone.  “Go for it, man.”

Archer steps into a corner and dials, bringing the phone up to his ear.  Although Jim tries to listen in, he finds that Archer has cut him off.  Archer’s half of the conversation is audible, though, and everyone shamelessly listens in:

“Stella?  It’s—yes. … Yes, we’re all fine.  I—yes. … Yes. … What?  Oh, now you’re screwing with me. … Alright.  Are you good? … Good. … I’m okay.  Saber’s here now.  … Yes, he’s gone.  … No, there are no more of them.  Orsino has seen to that.  But the Grail is—yes, it is as you thought.  So, if you can, you need to get out of Rome.”

Assassin and Jim exchange a surprised glance, then realize at the same time:  if the Grail melts down, Stella would be at ground zero.

Archer goes on, “I know.  Could you go back to…? … Yes, I’m sure Orsino could help you arrange that. … Yes. … Yes, please. … Thank you.  It was an honor to meet you.  If I don’t see you again, be safe.”

He hangs up and hands the phone back to Val.

“Does she need transport somewhere?”  Val asks.

“Dude, she can go back home or wherever,” Jim tells him.  “We don’t have to send her to Reines like another stray orphan.”

“Excuse you!  It’s a wonderful orphanage, and besides, the Tower isn’t a terrible place to be locked up!”

In the background, Assassin and Caster exchange horrified looks.

V. Future Moves

Once everyone is settled back in the living room, the question comes up: do they give up the plans?

“No.”

Everyone looks at Val, surprised by how decisive his answer is.

“Not even to your employer?”  Siobhan asks.

“I know they’re worth a lot, but—”

“You’re thinking about money?!”  Jim demands.

“What?  No! I’m rich; I don’t have to worry about money!”  Val shakes his head and ignores Jim’s glower.  “Look, what I meant was, Reines obviously places a lot of value on these notes. But if I have a say in it, I don’t want to see this secret getting out.”

“What do you propose we do, then?”  Assassin asks.  “Destroy them outright?”

Siobhan looks uncomfortable until Val shakes his head. “We still don’t know how to defuse the Grail.  I think we should decrypt them and see if there’s anything in there about it.  Then we should destroy them, so nobody else can do this, ever again.”

“I agree,” Siobhan says, and Jim nods as well.

Lancer pipes up, “We still have a huge problem if we want to destroy this thing.  The Grail is in the Vatican.  The Grail is a spiritual object.  Servants cannot enter the Vatican, and to my understanding, Servants are the only beings who can touch the Grail.  How do we get to it to destroy it?”

“Rider can go into the Vatican,” Val points out.

“That’s all well and good,” Lancer replies, “but we don’t know Rider, either who he is or where his loyalties lie in the long run.”

“We know he’s a saint,” Jim reminds her, “and that he’s a native of Rome.  That suggests that he would be the sort of person who would at least not like to see the Vatican get blown up.”

Val nods in agreement.  “That’s right.  Maybe we could give him instructions to break it, or maybe he could transport it to somewhere we can reach it.  Do you think that’s possible?  Do we know if it’s anchored somewhere?  Or can it be moved?”

The group agrees that they do not know and would have to ask Orsino. In the midst of this, though, Jim remembers:  “We shouldn’t take it out with the eighth Servant running around.  They could get access to it, and that would be terrible.” Everyone murmurs in agreement. “So we want to remove the eighth Servant from the board before dealing with the bomb.”

Lancer nudges Assassin’s elbow.  “Talk later?” she murmurs when the priestess leans in.

Assassin nods.  Seeing everyone else’s suspicious expressions, she admits, “At some point, our language shifted from disarming the Grail to destroying it.  I’m not keen on destroying the artifact.  It’s a sacred relic, to both of us.  If we can defuse it while leaving the artifact intact, I would be happier with that plan.”

Everyone else seems to accept this, but Jim narrows his eyes at his Servant.  “Hey… Do you mean it?  Or are you still thinking that Vasilyevich had the right idea, with destroying the Vatican?”

“I mean it,” she insists, only lying a little.  “I just want to save the Cauldron.”

“And if you had a choice between saving the Cauldron and blowing up the Vatican?”

Assassin shrugs.  “Ask me later.”

The sound of Val’s War phone chirps from his pocket.  He grains when he sees the screen.  “Oh!  Orsino is calling back!”  He answers it and puts in on speaker in the middle of the table.  “Good morning!”

“Good morning, Valentin,” Orsino greets him, “and hopefully everyone else.  How are you all doing?”

“Alive and breathing!” Val chirps.  “What about you, old man?  Still alive?”

“Clearly,” Assassin mutters, “He is a zombie.”

Orsino dryly agrees, “Yes, I regret to inform you that I passed away last night and am phoning you from the afterlife.  Rider is presently on a Master-less rampage through the city, and I’m calling to urge you to stop him.”

When the laughter at his spectacular delivery has died down, Val asks, “Okay, but now you’ve got me wondering:  if you die, does your backseat driver just take over?  Or what?”

Orsino chuckles. “I honestly don’t know, and I honestly don’t want to find out for a long while.  I’m sure if it happens, he’ll let you know.”  The group laughs again, and Orsino goes on, “Now, for the actual reason I’m calling:  I have several teams throughout the city working to find and defuse the remaining death seals.  There are a surprising number of them—”

“Is it that surprising, though?”  Jim asks. “This was Vasilyevich’s entire thing.”

“That’s a fair point,” Orsino acknowledges, “but I still find myself surprised at the number we’ve found intact.  I was calling to ask if your more magically inclined Servants would be interested in helping my teams.”

“Saber, could you help defuse death seals?” Val asks, both aloud and through his connection.

There is a brief pause, and Saber responds, “I’m uncertain, but I remind you that I am still heavily injured. I will go if you send me, but to send me may be unwise.”

“I thought that Saber might be able to help,” Val tells Orsino, “since it’s his Master, but he lost his sword and his arm.  Even if he was certain that he could help, I’m not certain I would want him to try in this condition.”

“That’s fair,” Orsino agrees.  “What about anyone else?”

The group looks around and shrugs.  Val answers for the, “Let us get ready for the day and collect ourselves a little bit more, and we’ll get back to you.  In the meantime, be careful out there!”

“Yes,” Orsino replies dryly, “If we run into the eighth Servant and have time to inform you before our imminent demise, we’ll let you know.” No one laughs at that one.  “But if you are able to send aid, we’ll be able to get through these much faster.  I would appreciate any help I could get here.”

“Caster may be able to help you find them,” Val says vaguely, “but I’ll let you know.  And if we find anything helpful when decrypting Vasilyevich’s notes, I’ll pass it on to you as well.”

“But seriously,” Jim adds, “don’t die.  Rider is the only one who can get into the Vatican and touch the Grail, so if Rider dies then we’re really stuck.”

“What do you mean, touch the—Oh.”  Orsino’s tone shifts from panic to understanding.  “You mean to disarm or destroy it.  Yes, I understand.  We’ll do our best to stay safe.  If anything happens… Well, we’ll let you know.”

They exchange closing pleasantries and hang up.  Silence reigns again as they begin to contemplate their next move…

#session log post

[the-dark-ghost]

Man, I don't know why I have to ship these two and almost any version of both so fucking badly.

• I know they are from two different seasons.

• I know those two seasons don't come together in the slightest.

• I know Ray is deader than my brain.

• I know that it doesn't make sense to bring together various Matthew and Colin characters, because in the other movie in which they appear together they never see each other either.

And I could go on listing many other reasons why shipping this pair is absurd, but I still do it, because I don't give a shit about those reasons.

In which case it's just me and my nonsense (ps: I love that more True Detective fanfics are coming out, revive the damn fandom). So finally:

#:) hehe #ao3 fanfic #true detective #rust cohle #xd #i ship them #ray velcoro #shipping these two will ruin me sooner or later... I know #s2 #s1 #i ship them so hard #ship #this is so stupid #but it makes me happy :) #colmatt #mcfarrell #rayrust #velcohle

[the-dark-ghost]

People Like Me Break Beautiful Things

So, the idea of shipping various versions of McConaughey and Farrell has messed with my head, leaving it even more foolish than usual, hence ridiculous and absurd ideas come to my brain at the speed of lightning.

In researching both of their filmographies, I think I found two people who would work very well together. You know, it's just that cliché of water and fire, Yin and Yang, the old joke of "those who fight, love each other" or "opposites attract. What I mean, in other words, is that these two charming wizards:

Walter Padick and Percival Graves

Would be perfect for a damn ship. Percy, so serious, grumpy, proper, and on the side of good, paired with Walter, cynical, negatively fun, mocking, and entirely unethical... They would make a great duo, lol. Especially when you consider that The Dark Tower and Fantastic Beasts happen in the same place, New York. It's just a matter of transferring the events of one of the two movies to the same era. In my case, I've preferred to move the FB story to a more modern time, 2017 to be exact.

So, here I leave you a little fanfic I wrote a while ago, and it might interest you if you like crossover ships like me and angst:

Percival thought walter was the threat, but no, he wasn't, he wasn't at all.

_____

An alternative AU in which the events of Fantastic Beasts take place in 2017. A new threat appears and Percival becomes obsessed with stopping it at all costs.

Likewise, Walter really isn't the only thing to deal with. There is a very familiar magician who has escaped in the middle of all the scandal that the man in black has created.

•

of course, this is part of a series of stories dedicated to my great stupidity for having this pleasure of pairing the two of them which is titled: My Least Favorite Detective (*wink* reference to a phrase from Velcoro in TD *wink* reference to the name of the series itself). There's also my other story: Surely this is it for me.

So you know...it looks like I'll be shipping these two for quite a while, I can't help it.

#ao3 fanfic #fanfic #ao3 writer #fantastic beasts #percival graves #walter Paddick #the man in black #the dark tower #harry potter #jk rowling #fanfic link #i ship them #i ship them so hard #enemies to lovers #au fanfiction #au #au modern #angst #magic #wizard #matthew mcconaughey #colin farrell #Matthew McConaughey x Colin Farrell #Rust Cohle x Ray Velcoro #Walter Padick x Percival Graves #Colmatt #McFarrell #I invented a ship name for them XD #velcohle

[the-dark-ghost]

Ok, I don't know why, but lately I've been obsessed with this fsnfic. I have to finish it, I just don't know how... it's just the beginning.

By the way, for some reason I also published it on Wattpad xd.

The fanfic in Wattpad

#true detective #fanfic #rust cohle #ao3 fanfic #marty hart #i ship them #angst #:) hehe #high school au #high school #ray velcoro #ray x rust #colmatt #colin farrell #matthew mcconaughey #collage #rayrust #McFarrell #velcohle

[the-dark-ghost]

Rust Has a Crush (well...probably)

Why did Rust remember the boy's name?

Because he still held it in his memory. While only a day had passed, Rust easily forgot things that didn't matter to him, making a conscious effort to emphasize within himself that it was insignificant. But in this case, Rust still remembered him – his face and his name, those three words that were just a nickname, like his own.

He was just there, seated with one elbow on the table and his palm open, cradling his face, exactly in the same position Rust loved to sit. His eyes were downward, not drawing, keeping the pen between his fingers, playing with it while moving it slightly with a neutral expression on his face. At some point, his eyes wandered on their own, falling directly onto Rust's without giving him much time to react. Rust simply looked away, knowing that Ray was still observing him, tilting his head slightly.

So, Ray was a third-year; he probably had to be at least 16.

Rust reasoned without knowing why. He liked connecting loose ends of things he found amusing. Professor Hart always pointed it out, how curious Rust could be despite his personality. Discovering at least that detail about Ray meant a small puzzle piece solved for Rust, even though he still thought it was insignificant, like everything else for him. Was there anything he truly cared about, or was everything a lie? Because Rust was still fighting to keep his eyes from moving back to Ray's face.

And at some point, he just gave up on trying to keep his gaze steady and directed it to where his blue orbs wanted to return. Ray had a delicate face, at least more than Rust's, a thin and small nose, large dark-colored eyes and eyebrows. Rust couldn't believe he was once again labeling each part of Ray's face as he did that time in detention; it was unnecessary to do it a second time, but Rust also knew that deep down, all he wanted was to discover some other detail, something he might have overlooked the first time. Ray was still watching him. Rust wondered if he had the same curiosity to uncover every detail of his face. He assumed not; his father had told him once or twice before, when he drank too much missing his wife, that Rust was ugly.

"A scum with a shitty face."

He had said that time, and Rust simply shrugged, grateful enough that his father's attacks were verbal and not physical.

A tall guy with black hair, sitting at the desk next to Ray, leaned over to him, whispering a couple of things while both watched Rust, the tall guy with a slight smile, or well, Ray just continued looking, the other guy didn't. That irritated Rust. Were they making fun of him? Why were they doing it... or at least... why was Ray doing it? Although Rust should have wondered why he cared about what a stranger thought of him. But anyway, even though he repeated that idea that nothing mattered to him over and over, he couldn't help but feel unsettled—an abnormal, unfamiliar sensation that Rust didn't like. The tall guy moved away from Ray, who took a sheet of paper and crumpled it into a ball with one hand. Immediately, he threw it at a blonde girl with shoulder-length hair sitting right in front of Rust, in the front row. Since Ray was seated in the back, everything made sense. Ray wasn't looking at Rust; he had been watching the girl the whole time, even if Rust had felt like his eyes were locked onto his own. He felt like an idiot for a second and then calmed down. Who would bother looking at him? Rust should have thought about it before.

Rust looked down, scratching the back of his neck slightly. The talk was about to end, and the girl who had received the crumpled paper didn't even bother; she just turned around and showed the middle finger to Ray, making him laugh. The teacher wasn't paying attention, probably fed up with the nonsense. Rust felt relieved when his class had to leave, and he simply walked away, walking seriously to his classroom and sitting in his seat the same way. The art class was about to begin; the teacher had already entered, and Rust felt just a little more uplifted. At least drawing distracted him; it would make him forget that for a moment, he felt like an idiot.

●

You know, a high school AU. I guess it's kind of silly, but I like these kinds of fanfics and there aren't many True Detective AUs actually, something where the angst isn't as much and not everything is so tenuous (doesn't mean this nonsense I'm writing isn't tenuous , it's just not as much as the series itself)

I guess I can't blame Rust. Colin (Ray) at 16 was just a sweetheart.

By the way, for some reason I also published it on Wattpad xd.

#:) hehe #true detective #fanfic #rust cohle #ao3 fanfic #marty hart #i ship them #angst #au fanfiction #fanfiction #high school #high school au #ray velcoro #ray x rust #colmatt #my nonsense #matthew mcconaughey #colin farrell #McFarrell #rayrust #velcohle

[fate-ad2021]

13(b). “Identities, Motives, and Meetings” (part 2 of 2)

Session 13, Feb 19, 2017

Word count: 5,897

In-Game Date: Saturday, June 12, 2021 / Sunday, June 13, 2021

In which names are dropped and Val has an ill-advised but surprisingly pleasant meeting.

VI. Identities Revealed

In the stunned silence that follows, Lancer’s face contorts with tightly controlled wrath.  “I would like to kill him,” she declares.

Beside her, Siobhan bites her lips and says nothing.

Jim shakes his head and is a little surprised to find Assassin making the same gesture.  “No, look: remember that we told you about the warehouse foreman?  What Archer is describing sounds like the same sort of geis trigger that made the foreman set the fire.  And in our conversation with Stella at dinner last night, she displayed the same kind of information blocking that the foreman did.”

“Archer attacked you because Stella used a Command Seal on him,” Assassin chimes in.  “And there is a good chance that she was forced to by the geis that the mastermind put on her.  If she is being mind-controlled, and in turn controlling Archer, then neither of them is truly at fault here.”

Lancer still looks unhappy, but does not contest any of their points.

“I got the geis off McFarrell,” Val muses, “so if given the chance, I could probably get it off of Stella as well.”

Archer looks between the people he can see, hope creeping back onto his face. “I had thought of the geis, and I have been doing my best to hold off on passing information to her, in contrast to how we normally operate.”

Val looks at him, startled.  “Wait, you can talk about the geis now!  Can you speak without influence from it, now that you aren’t in constant contact with her?”

“I know not,” Archer replies, then tests the theory:  “Grigori Vasilyevich is the man who placed a geis on my Master Stella.”  He looks amazed at himself, then grins triumphantly, the happiest expression they have seen on him so far.

“Tell us about Vasilyevich,” Jim presses.  “How did Stella get involved with him?”

Archer shakes his head.  “I don’t know much about the man himself, but I can tell you what I know of their connection. Do you remember when we first met you, when Stella called herself, uh… very gay?”

Val laughs.  “Yeah, I remember.”

Archer nods.  “Well, she was telling the truth.  Years ago, she had a lady love back in Egypt, where she went for university.  By the time she was finished with school, her beloved’s family had made other arrangements for her – arrangements which did not include Stella.  But Stella’s family had been killed in the interim, so she had nowhere to go.  I know not how, but she met Grigori somewhere along the way, and he pointed her to an organization called the Atlas Association.  She tells me that he got her connections there, in exchange for the promise of a favor later.  I suspect that he planted the geis on her at that time, but he only activated it now, years later.”

“Sheesh,” Val whistles.  “That’s some pretty strong magic.”

From behind Archer, Caster inquires, “Can you confirm that Vasilyevich is a Master in the War?”

Archer has given up on trying to see the other people in the room, so he just nods firmly.  “Yes. Grigori Vasilyevich is the Master of Servant Saber.”

Assassin sighs and tilts her head back, studying the ceiling.  “Which means that our mystery Knight is probably Rider…”

“What about the creepy child you were asking us to fight?”  Archer asks.

“That was Berserker,” Jim and Val both tell him.  Archer’s eyes widen in surprise, and get even wider when Jim reveals, “Oh, and he was Mordred.”

“That was—” Archer gasps.  “And you—” He shakes his head with a chuckle.  “I was impressed with your display at the Colosseum, and that was only with half of your group.  Assuming you all fought him together, I should not be surprised that you won.”

Archer casts his gaze down to his injured but healing leg and seems to be weighing his options.  Then he looks back up at the group.  “I think it is time that I properly introduce myself.  My name is Sir Tristan of Cornwall.”

Recognition dawns on Caster and Assassin both.  They had suspected that he was a knight of the Round Table, but neither of them had realized who until he spoke:  Tristan was long gone by the time much of the trouble came around Camelot.

Val asks which version of the legend is the true one, since he has heard many.

Archer – Tristan – explains that he was a knight of the Round who was once in love with a woman named Isolde, who was most unfortunately betrothed to Tristan’s uncle.  Nevertheless, he and Isolde opted to have an affair (“as one does,” he says with a self-effacing smile).  Upon discovering it (“as one does,” Jim chimes in), Tristan’s uncle was furious and sent him away.  Tristan later married another woman – coincidentally also by the name of Isolde – who eventually learned of his first love.

“So,” Archer concluded, skipping over all the other details of the story, “my wife became jealous and poisoned me.  The end.”

If anyone notices how deliberate Archer’s flippant tone sounds, no one says anything.  Instead, Val pipes up, “It sounds like you need some tips on handling the ladies.  I can help!”

Assassin and Caster both groan their disapproval, but Jim makes a sharp silencing motion.  “Everybody, shut up!” he snaps.  “We need to focus and figure out how to get Stella back.”  He turns to Archer.  “She’s still in the Vatican, right?”

Archer hesitates, frowning.  “I assume that she went back in after Commanding me to find you.  At the moment, I am having… difficulty, sensing her.”

Jim turns to the rest of them.  “We could try a frontline attack.  Sneak in, grab Stella, sneak out.  Our Servants can’t go with us, but the three of us Masters are nothing to sneeze at.”

“Or,” Val suggests.  “I could do what I did with McFarrell:  call Orsino up, ask him to meet and bring Stella.  He’ll listen.”

“Both of those are terrible ideas!”  Assassin exclaims, and then everyone is talking at once, arguing over the best course of action, their captive forgotten for the moment.

Finally, Archer clears his throat.  When the group has quieted down, he says, “It may surprise you all to hear it, but I think that Valentin might actually have the right idea.  Orsino seems like a reasonable person, for a priest and a Master; if Valentin truly has Stella’s best interests at heart, then he should be willing to at least agree to meeting to discuss her wellbeing. If you can find a way to contact him, then I say do it:  call him, say that you are concerned about Stella, ask if she is alright.”

The rest of the group is still hesitant, but Val nods, glad to be vindicated. “I’ll work on arranging the meeting. Not for tonight, though; I’ll ask him about tomorrow.”

“Why put it off?”  Lancer asks.

Val looks appalled.  “I don’t want a meeting with a creepy priest in the middle of the night!  That’s how horror movies happen!  Besides,” he goes on, “We’re crossing enough genre boundaries as it is.”

Jim and Siobhan shake their heads, exasperated.  “We need to find a neutral non-church ground to meet,” Jim says. Val promises to think about it while they continue talking to Archer.

“Archer,” Caster addresses their captive, “Do you know if Vasilyevich has any other pawns in this War, besides Stella?  We know that he arranged a shipment to the Vatican, and we had suspected that whoever received that was allied with Vasilyevich.  It is looking likely that the person in question was Orsino.”

Archer shakes his head.  “If Grigori has other pawns in the War, Stella and I do not know of them.  By my reckoning of the man, Orsino knew that Stella was a Master because of the Command Seal, but he did not seem to have knowledge of her identity or her connection to Vasilyevich.”

He pauses suddenly, apparently struck by a thought.  “There was something else that you wanted to know at dinner that I could not say due to Stella’s binding:  the identity of Saber.  He is Sir Gawain.”

The group breathes a sigh of relief.  They are all pleased to learn that one of their theories was correct. Val voices this, as well as a question about whether or not Lancelot is on the board.  Archer replies that he does not think so, but there is always the chance that he was summoned as Rider.

At this point, Jim casts a sideways glance toward Lancer.  “Hey, can we talk for a minute?  You too, pretty boy.”  He motions to Val.

The three of them step out into the hallway.  Once there, Jim addresses Lancer.  “Okay, I don’t mean to be intrusive, but everyone else seems to be from a very particular set of legends and I’m just wondering how you fit in.”

“Oh!”  Val exclaims. “Didn’t I tell you?  I found out!”  Lancer looks skeptical, but motions for Val to go on.  Val does not need the encouragement:  “Lancer is Scathach!  Right?”

Lancer heaves a sigh and nods in affirmation.  “Yes, I am she.”

Jim stares at them both blankly.

Val explains, “She was a sorceress, some legends say a vampire or something, who trained a bunch of Irish warriors, including Cu Chulainn.”

“Keeper of the Land of Shadows and all that?”  Lancer asks, trying to ring a bell.

Jim shakes his head.  “Okay. I’m not really up on legends, but I believe you.  My question still stands, though:  where do you fit into all this?  You’re not Arthurian.”

Assassin steps into the hallway to join the conversation, careful to close the door behind her.  “Maybe the Grail thought we needed a babysitter.”

Lancer laughs at this.  “If so, then I was a poor choice for the job.  But I think my presence is not as odd as you might think.  I am connected to Siobhan herself, who is connected to the Grail by her mother—”

“Wait,” Jim interrupts.  “What do you mean, you’re connected to Siobhan?”

Lancer pauses.  “Give me a moment…  There; I’ve blocked communication with her for a moment.  You probably needed a catalyst to summon Assassin, didn’t you? Siobhan didn’t need anything but herself to summon me.  Her heritage was enough.  I believe she is one of my descendants.”

Jim looks surprised.  “Oh, okay. Go on, then.”

Lancer nods.  “As I was saying, I’m tied to Siobhan, who is tied to the Grail War, and my era of legend is tied to the Cauldron of Rebirth, which Assassin and I both believe to be the vessel of the Grail.  In addition to that – you know how magic largely functions on conceptual links? – I am conceptually linked to the Arthurian mythos despite not being from that era.  Assassin and I work magic from the same source, for example, and even more basic than that, we are all from the British Isles.”

“…Huh,” Jim and Val both say, because that is all there is to say to such revelations.  Then Jim adds, “Hey, uh… is your communication with Siobhan still off?” When Lancer nods, Jim steels himself with a deep breath and asks, “So, great-great-great-etc. grandma, can I ask for permission to date your descedent?”

Val bursts out laughing and Assassin just barely manages to suppress a smirk, but Lancer seems genuinely impressed by the gesture.  “If Siobhan accepts your courtship, then you will get no complaints from me about it.  I appreciate your courtesy to ask; there was not such a thing in my time.  Besides, the last time someone had a relationship with one of my apprentices, it… well, it wasn’t pretty.”  At Jim’s concerned expression, she explains, “Cu Chulainn had a relationship with my sister, and that ended badly for everyone.”

“Well,” Val chimes in, “A lot of people now think your sister was a vampire, so…”

Lancer snorts.  “Well, I thought she was a demon.”

VII. Plotting and Planning

When the others return to the false basement, they see that Caster and Siobhan have taken it upon themselves to untie Archer and provide him with the promised sushi.  But even after eating, their captive looks exceedingly fatigued.  His skin, already pale, is bordering on ashen, and he slouches into his chair where before he had tried to proudly hold himself upright. The other three Servants exchange a look of concern; they know that his fatigue is a sign of a low pool of mana. They each relay this to their own Masters, and collectively decide to let Archer get some sleep.

After they have dragged a bed back into the room and let him fall into a deep slumber – which happens so quickly as to be alarming – Assassin checks him over to ensure that the fatigue is not just a side effect of her own magic. While that would be ideal, it appears to be untrue:  Archer’s magic resistance has entirely flushed her magic out of his system, leaving no trace of the sleeping potion from earlier.  She also finds further confirmation that he is in trouble:  his own mana supply, small as it is due to his Class, appears to be running pretty thin.

Assassin leaves the room and Caster wards it behind her, both of them retreating to the living room to join the others.  Assassin reports on her findings, then adds, “Ordinarily, using a Noble Phantasm takes enough out of us that we cannot use it again until we have had a chance to rest and recharge, but it does not deplete our supply as much as I saw with Archer.  This does not bode well for his Master’s status.  While there is a chance that the problem lies in the strength of the Vatican’s warding, we should also consider the possibility that Stella is no longer among the living.”

The group is silent for a long moment, pondering this news, before Caster says, “I can try to seek her out, to learn her status.  When should I look?”

Lancer raises an eyebrow, but Assassin replies, “What can you find of her tomorrow morning?”

Caster settles into a chair and meditates, again casting his mind out into the future.  Such prophecy is easier when he has a clear idea of a target, and he is pleased to find her quickly:

Whose eyes he sees her through, he does not know. The bed that Stella is in seems too comfortable to be standard hospital fare, but the room is clearly meant for healing and recovery.  She is still in the Vatican, if the crucifixes on the walls and the fresco of the Holy Virgin are anything to go by, although he is vaguely surprised to see a Koran on the bedside table beside the rosary.  She is propped up on pillows with the covers pulled up around her neck. He knows that beneath the covers, her arm has been bandaged – the same arm that held the Command Seal when last they met her.  He gets the idea that she is in some pain, but there is no sense of a severe injury.

Caster draws his mind back out of the vision and explains it to the best of his ability.  The implications of the bandage are left unexplored for the moment as Caster and Assassin fall into a discussion of how best to keep Archer alive while Stella is away. They decide that between the two of them, they can probably muster up enough magical energy to feed to Archer to keep him manifested; they both know that the other option is coercing him to do something heinous like eating human life energy, which he would almost certainly object to.

“I’m not going to pay for him to use his Noble Phantasm again, unless we really need it,” Caster declares, “And that, I sorely doubt.”

Assassin nods her agreement.  “But perhaps he can be kept alive long enough to see out the end of the War.”

“Or at least to make sure that we can get Stella back and out alive,” Jim pipes up.  “He should want to stick around at least for that.”

Siobhan frowns.  “I don’t know about this plan.  He seemed kind of… death-wishy to me.”

Assassin bites her lips and tilts her head in concession.  “It is possible that he has given up already.  Perhaps telling him that we know she is safe will help, but…”

Caster shakes his head.  “Not without giving up information we don’t want him to have.”

***

As they have been discussing this, Val has withdrawn to the kitchen with his phone.  It takes some doing, but he finally manages to find Orsino Veronesi’s private number. He retreats to one of the bedrooms and paces as the phone rings.

The voice that picks up is low, quiet, and familiar; the priest is as soft-spoken in person as he was on the television.  “Good evening?”

“Am I speaking to Orsino Veronesi?” Val keeps his voice calm despite his nerves. This plan is a gamble, but a risk he is willing to take.

“You are,” the priest replies slowly, “who is calling?  And how did you get this number?”

“I’m a concerned friend of Stella di Presagio’s,” Val answers smoothly.  “And you’d be amazed what you can find on the internet.”

The priest hums.  “I am consistently amazed by that, yes.  Does this concerned friend have a name?”

As loathe as he is to give up advantages, Val learned from the meeting with Foreman McFarrell that it is best to give out a name.  So he sighs inwardly and replies, “Valentin de Rosa.  Perhaps you’ve heard of me?”

Orsino hums again, in surprise instead of annoyance this time.  “Yes, I have.  So, what can I do for you, Mister de Rosa?”

The moment of truth:  “I know that Stella is with you, and I want to be sure she’s okay.  I would like a meeting.  Shall we have tea?”

Orsino is quiet for a moment, then replies, “When?”

Val nearly draws back from the phone in surprise.  “Tomorrow morning?”

He hears a chuckle on the other end.  “Lucky for you, my service just got out, and I won’t be obliged to attend the Sunday morning one.  Ten o’clock should work fine, shouldn’t it?”

“Yes, that should do.”

“Where?”

Now Val is suspicious; his target is being shockingly cooperative.  He thinks for a moment, then replies, “You know La Tazza D’Oro?”

“I know it.  I’ll see you there.”

“Before you go,” Val interjects, “I’d hoped Stella would be able to join us?”

“Unfortunately,” the priest hedges, “Miss di Presagio is not in a position to leave at this time.  But if you wish, I can arrange a way to speak with her.”

“What do you mean, she isn’t in a position to leave?”  Val demands, perhaps a bit more sharply than he intended.

“In the situation that we’re in,” Veronesi says, “things happen.  We can discuss this tomorrow.”

“Very well,” Val grumbles.

“But before you go… She will be well pleased to know that someone is worried about her.”  Veronesi pauses for a moment, then asks, “Are there any other regards to pass along?”

Val narrows his eyes.  “She will know whose regards are being passed along.  I’ll see you tomorrow.”  And he hangs up.

***

After Val announces his established meeting with the priest, there is another round of argument between the Masters concerning the wisdom of the idea.  In the meanwhile, Caster taps Assassin and Lancer on the arm and motions them to follow him back to one of the rooms.

Once alone, he turns to them and asks very seriously, “So, who wants to impersonate a god for this meeting?”

Lancer raises an eyebrow.  “To what end?”

Assassin grins, for once whole-heartedly behind Caster’s plan. “What better guise is there when one is going to meet a priest?”

Lancer hums in thought, then asks, “Your power:  it is shape-shifting, or simply illusion?”

“I can do both,” Caster tells her.

“Does it persist through becoming incorporeal?”

“It does for me,” Caster replies with a shrug, “but for everyone else, I cannot say.”

Lancer holds out her hand.  “Try it.”

Assassin startles at this blatant display of trust, but Caster simply taps Lancer’s outstretched palm with his fingers.  In an instant, she is transfigured into the form of her Master. She gasps sharply and turns her hands over and over, examining them closely.  “Ah, it really is shape-shifting.”  She relinquishes her physical form for her spirit one, and is back in an instant; the new shape does persist through the change.  “Alright, this is strange.  Please remove it.”

Caster laughs and acquiesces.  Lancer seems to think for a moment, then says, “As entertaining as it would be to feign godhood for a day, I believe that neither Siobhan nor I should come along on this adventure.  Nor should Jim, for that matter.  If the priest is a Master, as Archer suggests, then he will be able to sense the presence of other Masters.  I can’t imagine that you would want to leave your Master there without backup,” she addresses Caster, “and I do not want to leave mine here without a guard.”

Caster is disappointed that his grand plan has been dismissed, but he nods; it is at least a sensible objection.  “It’s just as well.  Val would probably wish to go alone to keep up the appearance of good faith.”

“I could go with you, though,” Assassin tells him.  “I trust Lancer not to murder Jim while we’re away.  Unless,” she turns to Lancer, “you would like some backup here in case something goes wrong with Archer.”

“No,” Lancer shakes her head.  “If something goes drastically wrong, your Master can call you with a Command.”

With that matter settled, they all retire for the night.

***

At 8:30 Sunday morning, Assassin and Caster slip into the room where Archer sleeps. He has neither faded away during the night nor does he appear to be doing much better.  His leg injury has started to heal, but it is nowhere near the rate that the other Servants experienced.

Assassin very carefully reaches out to poke Archer awake.  It takes a surprising amount of force and persistence before the knight stirs.

“Mmmwhat,” comes the grumble into the pillow.

“I know that you are tired,” Assassin tells him, “but this one is not my fault.  I have confirmed that my magic is out of your system.  Your leg is healing, but not at the rate that it should.  You are still bleeding mana.”

That gets Archer to roll over and slowly sit up.  His hair is disheveled and there are prominent bags beneath his eyes. “This is how it ends, huh?”

Assassin slaps his arm sharply before she can think better of it. Archer bristles, but says nothing in response.  “Do not start with me!  We’re in here to make sure that you can remain manifested in this world.”

Archer turns a wary eye to both of his captors, doubtless trying to discern what methods they may have in mind.  His expression grows even more distrustful when Caster continues, “I’ll share some mana with you to keep you on your feet, until we can determine what happened to Stella.”

Archer is silent for a moment, then asks, “You want to make a contract with me?”

Caster shrugs.  “Nothing so complex as a Master-Servant bond, but in essence, yes.  It will allow me to pass mana to you and monitor your status in case I need to pass more.”

“Why are you giving me this chance?” Archer asks flatly.

Assassin and Caster share a glance before Assassin replies, “We have reason to believe that the Holy Grail is not what we were told at our summoning, and that it reaching completion would spell disaster.  If you die, you feed it; we do not want that.  Besides, there is no reason to lose a potential ally if saving him is within our power.”

Archer still looks suspicious, but nods in agreement, turning to face them both. “Fine.  Do whatever you must.”

Caster places a hand on Archer’s chest, just over his heart.  It seems to be the most appropriate way to start the connection.  For a moment, Caster’s mana wars with Archer’s magic resistance, but Caster recalls forming his contract with his familiar and tries to shape the approach in the same way.

The change is instantaneous; Archer’s complexion returns to normal and he breathes easier than before.  He pushes Caster’s hand away and shudders.  “That is a strange feeling.”

“Believe me, the revulsion is mutual,” Caster replies coolly.  “But now I will be able to sense if you flag and send you mana if you need it.  Attack my allies or try to use your Noble Phantasm, and I will cut you off. Understood?”

Archer glares at him, but nods sharply.

VIII. Meeting With an Executor

While Siobhan, Lancer, and Jim remain at the safe house, Val heads off to the coffee shop with Caster and Assassin in invisible tow.  Assassin locates a discreet spot to place herself where she can watch the window at the front of the coffee shop; a restaurant across the street with outdoor seating does the trick nicely.  Meanwhile, Caster has assumed a new form and remains in spirit form as he follows Val into the shop.

Orsino Veronesi is seated at the front of the shop, visible through the large window at the front.  Today he is dressed in a purple polo shirt and black slacks, much more casual attire than the full priest garb he wore on television.  In his hand is a cup of tea larger than any of them thought the shop sold.

As Val enters the shop, he senses the mild tinge of pain from another Command Seal’s presence.  He catches Orsino’s eye and nods to him, waiting for the polite nod in return before getting into line to place his order.  He silently asks Caster if he senses any Servants, and Caster responds in the negative.  Of course, neither would Caster’s presence be apparent to another Servants while he is incorporeal.

A cup of coffee in hand, Val seats himself across the table from Orsino. “Mister Veronesi, it’s good to see you at this fine hour.”

“You’re cheating,” the priest deadpans, before breaking into a teasing smile at Val’s surprise.  “You ordered coffee.”

Val smiles back.  The priest sets his tea down on the table and rolls up his glove to discreetly reveal his Command Seal, three perfectly intact red curves.  Val does the same, revealing his own intact Command Seal:  they are on the same level.

Orsino chuckles softly.  “I had to make sure.  Can you tell I don’t get out very often?”

“I wouldn’t expect a Vatican man to get out much at all,” Val tells him.  “Besides, you’re retired, aren’t you?”

Orsino studies him, for a moment, “What is a rock star doing in this War?”

“What’s an Executor doing in it?”  Val shoots back.

“We’re not here to talk about me,” Orsino deflects.  “Nor are we here to talk about you, exactly.  You wanted to know about Stella.  She is well.  She is perhaps better than could be expected.  Why are you concerned about her?”  He pauses, then adds, “She does not have many friends.”

“She is a friend,” Val insists, “and furthermore, an ally.  I want to protect my allies.  Surely someone who is supposed to be a man of God must understand morality?”

“Of course,” the priest nods.  “Which is the source of my concern.  She came to me for protection.  I’m not inclined to give excessive details without some credentials.”

“You’ve seen some of my credentials.”  Val motions to his hand.

“You might be another victim of the War, or you might be an instigator.”

“I don’t anything to do with the setup,” Val insists.  “And I hadn’t met Stella before the War.  I sought her assistance in fighting an instigator.  She never arrived.  It turns out she was in your – apparently capable – hands.”

Orsino lifts his hand and traces an unfamiliar symbol in the air in front of Val.  When nothing occurs and Val looks at him with concern, Orsino nods in something like an apology.  “I had to ensure that you weren’t – well, not you.”  He sighs heavily and tells Val, “I became involved in the War after a certain item was delivered to the Vatican.  I had been called in for circumstances that I thought were unrelated. It turns out that they suspected a War was happening and called a lot of Executors out of retirement, to my surprise. I truly believe that it was happenstance that I was there in the courtyard when the item was delivered. Nevertheless, it came to pass that I looked upon the contents of the box, then this appeared,” he motions to his own hand, “and the next thing I know, I was handed a summoning ritual and instructions.  Because I needed another one of those in my life.”

“Another?”

“Yes,” the priest says dismissively.  “Rest assured that I did not want to be here.  I was on a very nice vacation in the Bahamas when I was recalled.”

“Do you want to tell me what was in that box?” Val asks.

“No.  But now I’ve told you how I’m connected to the War.  Would you like to give me your story?”

Val thinks for a moment, formulating his terms carefully. Finally, he settles on, “The Sea of Estray is connected to many things.”

Orsino nods.  “I know that Atlas sent some investigators, but what happened to them, I’m not sure. Did Estray send you?”

“Yes,” Val lies.  “Estray is why I’m involved, and I know Rome rather intimately because of my family. The whole thing seems like people keep winding up in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Orsino nods sadly.  “That matches my admittedly limited observations as well.  I summoned my Servant rather late, it seems, and besides meeting with you just now, Stella is the only other Master who I have met. That was also the first time that we had left the Vatican as a team.”

Val lets his surprise show on his face.  “But Servants can’t exist in the Vatican, can they?”

“There appears to be an exception for ones that were summoned there,” Orsino replies.

“The boundary field doesn’t keep him in?”

Orsino shakes his head.  “He can go in and out whenever he wishes.  The night that I met Stella, I wasn’t exactly looking for her.  Rightly, I went to whoever I could run into, whoever God could lead me to.  I went out to see if I could fund anyone who was willing to speak with me that did not involve, well, coming to blows immediately.  I suppose I was lucky to run into Stella.”

“And Stella chose to come with you?”

“I was surprised as well.”

Val narrows his eyes, clearly unconvinced.  “Entirely of her own will?  I find that hard to believe.”

“Do you know about why and how she got involved in the War?”

“Of course,” Val nods, although he only has a vague idea.

It is Orsino’s turn to narrow his eyes.  “Are you truly a friend to her?”  He sits forward, leaning in close to Val, who holds his gaze without fear. “Because if you mean her any harm,” and here the priest’s eyes flash briefly golden, “I will kill you where you sit.”

“Caster?!”  Val hisses silently.  “What was that?!”

Caster makes a surprised noise in Val’s mind.  “A display of power.  Golden eyes are the sign of a backseat driver of some sort.  Didn’t your research suggest that the Vatican retired him out of concern that he had made an inappropriate contract?”

Instead of responding to Caster, Val nods to Orsino.  “The feeling is mutual, Executor.  I want the best for Stella, and I’m not convinced that you’re it.”

Seemingly satisfied with this response, Orsino sits back and takes another sip of his tea.  “I know that Stella was coerced into joining the War.  I am know reasonably confident that the coercer is not you.”

“Your concern mirrors my own.  How can I be sure that you are not the coercer?  You clearly have something going on.”  Val motions to the priest’s eyes.

Orsino chuckles.  “I am under an influence, shall we say, but not of the man who has contracted with Stella. I have not met this Vasilyevich, and frankly, God help him if we ever do meet.”

Val smiles in satisfaction.  “You’ve given me confidence, Executor.  I know enough about the restrictions that influenced Stella to understand the significance of your ability to give his name.”

“Luckily, Stella no longer has to worry about those restrictions. I was able to break the geis.”

Again, Val allows himself to look surprised.  “Well, that saves me a bit of work.”

“You can do it, too?” Orsino asks, also surprised.  “I thought it was just an Executor thing.”  He thinks for a moment, then allows, “Perhaps you would like to see her for yourself.  If you trust me enough to follow me back to the Vatican, that is.”

“May I bring an ally along?”  Val asks.  “Another friend to Stella?”

Orsino nods.  “As long as it is someone who can enter the holy ground.  Why don’t we meet up nearby?”

He pulls out his phone and finds an intersection about a block from the front entrance, which Val knows to be in clear public view.  They agree to meet up about noon, and before they part, Orsino says, “We will meet you there.”

“Is your backseat driver coming along?” Val inquires.

Orsino gives an amused smile.  “I don’t think I’ve ever heard him called that before.”

They part ways; Val walks vaguely in the direction of the safe house while Caster follows Orsino to make sure he does not trail Val himself. The priest heads straight to his car, parked a few blocks away, and then drives as directly to the Vatican as one can drive in a city made of one-way streets.  There remains no sense of another Servant’s presence, although Caster notes to Val that the Servant could be incorporeal.

***

Back at the safe house, Jim gets a text from Val asking him to check in with Granny Gertrude about any Atlas investigators that may have been sent to learn about the War.  He does so, but Granny says that she is too far out of the loop to know much about the organization’s current actions.

“You wouldn’t happen to be familiar with someone named Stella di Presagio, would you?” he asks, figuring it to be a long shot.

To his surprise, Granny gets back to him quickly:  “Ooh, I do know Stella!  Wonderful with spatial manipulation, I believe.  The poor dear lost her family 15 years back.  Or maybe it was 10.  Ooh, I don’t really remember, dear, but I do know she was a lovely person!”

Jim thanks Granny for the information and receives a long string of hearts and smiley faces in return, half of which his brick of a cell phone does not properly render.

#session log post

[fate-ad2021]

11. “Four of Thirteen”

Session 11, Feb 5, 2017

Word count: 7,138

In-Game Date:  Saturday, June 12, 2021

In which the group meticulously digs up plot points.

I. Servant Identities

While the Servants are out playing rescue crew, Valentin remembers that he wanted to try to determine Lancer’s identity.  He recalls the name of her Noble Phantasm, so starts by searching for that.

He does find a few bits and pieces of information:  the cursed crimson lance is associated with a legendary figure from Irish mythology.  Unfortunately, the name that he keeps coming across is the Hound of Ulster, Cúchulainn – definitely a male figure.  Val is fairly certain that the red-eyed woman is not Cúchulainn, but at this point in the War, he decides to refrain from making such a judgment call.

Likewise, Jim attempts to learn more about Saber.  The group knows already that he is called the White Knight of the Sun, but anything else that they can find would be helpful.  Although jim comes away with the certainty that they are dealing with a Knight of the Round Table, but unfortunately, what little they have seen of the man could fit many of the knights.

II. Fruits of Their Labor

At around 2 o’clock in the afternoon, Granny and Magnuson both get back to Jim and Val respectively.

Granny Gertrude confirms what they already knew about Grigori Vasilyevich:  that he is a Russian researcher who is known for his work on energy storage.  She also discovered that he has had contact with Rocco Belfaban in the past.  None of it is particularly new information, but it serves to shore up some of the holes in narrative that the group has been uncovering:  it is possible that at one point Vasilyevich had legitimate business with Belfaban, but he must have used that precedent in his ruse to get McFarrell to make the shipment to the Vatican.

Granny also made a truly interesting discovery:  Grigori Vasilyevich is the nephew of Anastasia Cartwright, the mastermind behind the American Grail Wars.  Jim passes this on to Val, but neither of them can figure out what the implications of that information might be.  Clearly, it explains his connection to the War, but how?

Meanwhile, Magnuson gets back to Val with information about Orsino Veronesi.  According to his research, Veronesi retired from being an Executor ten years ago.  The official reports that Magnuson found say that it was for age reasons:  the man was pushing 60 years old.  But that itself struck Magnuson as odd; most Executors tend to succumb to the dangers of their line of work before that age.  After all, Executors take the mandate to be “soldiers of God” quite literally, and it turns out that they often possess magic circuits like mages but are not strong enough or well-placed enough to become proper magi.

A little more digging revealed that the Church had similar concerns.  Veronesi displayed “unusual vitality” for a man of nearly 60 years old, particularly one in this profession:  he regularly shrugged off hits that should have killed him like they were nothing.  Rumor has it, Magnuson found, that Veronesi’s superiors wondered if he had made a deal that a man of God really should not be making.  Regardless of the source of his power, it did not seem to change his basic nature as a compassionate man:  he would often use his newfound vitality to defend people, even people who other Executors may have left to die.

The question remains, though:  why is he back now?

Val and Jim are both hanging up from their respective phone calls when their Servants return with their captives.

III. We Didn’t Start That Fire

“… the latest in a string of terrible tragedies on this gloomy Saturday:  a fire has broken out at an apartment complex in Ostiense.  The blaze led to the deaths of as many as fifty people.  Officials are still investigating the cause, but they estimate that the fire started at around noon.”

Siobhan turns up the volume on the television as the Servants drag the unconscious Jordan and Petri in the door.  The scene behind the reporter clearly shows the wreckage of an apartment complex:  if it is not the one that the Servants had been in two hours prior, it is an eerily similar location.  A replay of a shaky cell phone film shows fire crews rushing to douse the flames as emergency vehicles haul out what are almost certainly corpses.

Siobhan turns on the Servants, fury and betrayal written on her face.  “What the hell were you up to over there?”

“That wasn’t us!”  Assassin protests, as she passes Jordan’s unconscious form to Caster.  Caster in turn motions for Val to help him carry the burdens.  They head back the hall with the two men in tow while Siobhan continues to glare at Assassin.

“So the apartment where you were just conveniently catches on fire around the time that you’re there?”  Siobhan counters.  “And you didn’t think to mention it?”

Jim shoots Assassin a confused look.  “I thought you only burned some incense!”

“I did!”  Assassin insists as Siobhan throws up her hands.  “I started a very small fire to set off the alarm, and then I doused it!”

Jim turns to Siobhan.  “Would you believe me if I said she was telling the truth?”

“I would believe that you believe her.”  Siobhan does not sound convinced.

Jim shook his head.  “I mean, I was watching the whole thing.  We had the whole vision-sharing thing going:  I watched her set the fire under the smoke detector and get everyone out, and I watched her douse it.”

“What happened then?”  Siobhan prompts.

“I entered the apartment that Jordan had gone into,” Assassin explains.  “And Caster entered it as well, to try to locate Petri.  When we got there, there was a group of the cloaked figures that attacked you last night at the bridge, and a… Well, it seemed to be a faery.”

Siobhan’s eyebrows lift sharply, but she says nothing.

“The faery disappeared, but not before it commanded the cloaked things to kill Jordan and Petri.  We dispatched all of the cloaks and brought Jordan and Petri back here.  We suspect that they were connected to Berserker, and we would really like to know how.”

Siobhan searches Jim and Assassin’s faces for a long time, then sighs and pushes her glasses up.  “I want to believe you.  It’s just been a very rough couple of days.”

Lancer pipes up.  “I would also like to believe them.  They’ve been valuable allies, and it would be a terrible thing for this alliance to have to break down now.”

“What do you suggest?”  Siobhan asks.

“I will go with one of them to investigate the site of the fire.  I will report to you what I find.”  By the intensity of the look that passes between them, there seems to be more that Lancer does not say aloud.  Whatever it is, Siobhan must find it reassuring, because she nods.

“I’ll go back,” Assassin offers.  “I would like to know what happened.”

Lancer nods.  “That it is settled.  We’ll go, while you oversee the questioning of the two they brought back.”

“If anyone starts breaking fingers,” Siobhan warns.  “I’m leaving.”

IV. Looking Behind and Ahead

While the others talk, Val and Caster set up a back bedroom to look like a basement.  Caster sets illusions in place while Val sticks the two captives back-to-back in chairs in the middle of the room.  To make sure that their assumptions are correct, Val pulls Petri’s gloves off to reveal that he in fact has half of a Command Seal to match Jordan’s.

Once the two are secure, Caster steps out of the room and centers himself.  He can sense his Master’s concern about Stella, and if he is honest with himself for once, he is concerned as well.  He also found the appearance of the faery from the apartment surprising and worrisome.  Luckily, the Mad Prophet has just the right tools as his disposal to gain insight on both of these things.

He closes his eyes and lets the magic of his heritage reconstruct memories he should not possess…

She did try to get to them, that night on the bridge. It really wasn’t her fault that she got held up. Valentin had called her to practically beg for her help against that damned creepy kid, and she was reluctant and unhappy about it but she did leave the apartment. She was halfway across the city when she ran into the damned priest. The damned priest appeared out of nowhere with his damned knight and made her an offer she couldn’t damn well refuse. So here she sits, in a rather nice office in a rather nice church that feels much more like a prison cell than the actual prison cells that she has been in. Caster’s chuckle at the gunslinger’s internal monologue threatens to boot him out of the memory stream.  He tamps down on his amusement and dives further, seeking the image of “that damned priest”, and is unhappy but wholly unsurprised to see Veronesi’s gently determined face cross Stella’s memory.  He tries to search around more, but something holds him back – the sense of a powerful boundary field surrounding his target.

“Strong enough to keep even my vision out…” he muses.  “It must be the Vatican.”

Continuing his investigations, he flings himself ahead in the time stream with a new target in mind.  The faery proves to be a slippery foe to track down, but he finally locks onto her several hours ahead:  early that evening, she will be at the warehouse to the northeast of town.  Caster sees her standing in the midst of the rubble, staring down at the seal that they had uncovered a few days ago.  He cannot see where she goes after that, but he knows that she will be there.

He drills down further, trying to get a sense of who she is and what is important to her.  She is no one who he recognizes – he has not dealt with her personally before.  But she is a being of light and magic, and she carries with her a sense of powerful loyalty… Not to Faerie itself, but to another figure.  Perhaps the one who summoned her, Caster thinks.

He lets the image go and drags himself back to the present just in time to hear someone suggest that the group should consolidate their information before they start asking Jordan and Petri questions.  Caster stretches and heads back out to the living room to join the others.

V.  Information Consolidation

Sitting around the living room, the group compares notes and tries to nail down all of their current knowledge.

They start by discussing the parties that know about the Holy Grail War, both in general and specifically the one in Rome:

They know that all three branches of the Mage’s Association – the Clock Tower, the Sea of Estray, and the Atlas Academy – know about it.

Reines had told them that the Vatican suspected that this War was coming.  She had also suggested that members of the Red Flower Society – veterans of the American Grail Wars and their associates – may be aware that the War in Rome was looming.

Siobhan points out that her compatriots in the Druidic Reconstruction movement knew about it; they sent her, after all.

The group also knows that the Sophia-Ris know about the Wars in general, and they suspect that the current Sophia-Ri heir – a man named Emil – knows about this one specifically.

They also discuss their knowledge of persons important to this series of Wars:

The late Anastasia Cartwright masterminded the American Grail Wars; Grigori Vasilyevich, her nephew, is a researcher who did work with energy transfer and storage before disappearing form the public eye a few years ago.  They suspect that he is probably the Master of Saber in this War.  They know that whoever Saber’s Master is, he is down a Command Seal after ordering Saber to retreat.

(At this mention, Siobhan rubs her hand, a reminder of her own missing Command Seal.)

The group has learned that the Sophia-Ri family hired Cartwright to figure out how the Holy Grail Wars worked, and that they put out a Sealing Designation on her, probably to stop her from spreading what she learned.

They know that the Sophia-Ris own a number of warehouses that had strange happenings like the fires.  The foreman of one of those warehouses – a man named Thomas McFarrell – had a geis put on him, likely by Vasilyevich, to compel him to start at least one of the fires.  The group also discloses to Siobhan that they sent McFarrell to stay with Reines for protection.

They also recall that McFarrell told them about a delivery from the Mage’s Assocation to the Vatican.  The package allegedly originated from Professor Rocco Belfaban, but they suspect that it was actually from Vasilyevich.  McFarrell had mentioned that the priest who received the package at the Vatican was unusually serene.

The group also recalls that Stella di Presagio, who was part of the War as a favor she owed to someone she could not name due to a similar geis, told the group that her patron has another “known variable” planted in the city for the War.

The discussion turns then to Orsino Veronesi, the priest who is currently working on covering up the bridge incident.  Veronesi is a heretic priest, an Executor brought out of retirement, who all of them can tell is unusually serene, matching McFarrell’s description of the man who received the package.  The group is still uncertain about how he factors in to the War. They also know now that Jordan and Petri – the other potential candidates to be Reines’ representatives in the War – were involved in something and have partial now-scarred Command Seals on their hands.  They resolve to question the two of them about this, as well as the Faery’s mention of the name “Emil” – who was he to them, and why did the Faery say that they had failed him?

Finally, they compare notes about the Masters and Servants who that have encountered:

Jim and Val know the identities of three of the Servants, including their own Assassin – Morgana – and Caster – Merlin.  Siobhan does not press them for that information, nor does she offer up Lancer’s name.

They suspect that Saber is one of the Knights of the Round Table – they know he is called the White Knight of the Sun and that he is devoted to his king and his country, but that is all.  They agree that they think Vasilyevich is his Master.

(Val points out that Saber is “very blonde”.  Caster replies, “So are you, Barry.”)

The group knows that Stella is the Master of Archer, who may or may not also be a Knight of the Round Table.

They suspect that Jordan and Petri were both attached to Berserker, although they do not yet understand how.  They all know that Berserker was Mordred, though, and they are able to establish that there is a strange prevalence of figures from the Arthurian mythos without giving too much away.

The only Servant that they have no information on so far is Rider.

VI. Know Your Enemy

It is around 3 o’clock in the afternoon when they decide that it is time to wake their captives.  Lancer and Assassin take the opportunity to return to the apartment complex in Ostiense to investigate the fire while the others head back the hall to their false basement.  Siobhan reiterates her apprehension, but she seems to relax when Jim and Val both invite her to stay and supervise.

Petri and Jordan are still unconscious when the group enters the room.  After a moment of deliberation, Val and Jim both get an idea which lights up their faces.

“I’ll take the nice one,” Val whispers as he sidles over to stand in front of Jordan.  “You go have fun with Petri Dish.”

Jim nods gleefully and moves to stand in front of his target.  He and Val hold up one finger, then two, then three… and of one accord, they raise their hands to their mouths and bellow, “WAKE UP!”

Both men yelp as they jolt awake, and continue yelling in confusion while their captors double over laughing.  Petri demands an explanation, complete with namedropping his own long lineage, but Jordan silences him with a pinch and turns back to Val.

“Thank goodness it’s just you two,” Jordan sighs.  “I thought I tried to be civil with you in the candy shop.  Here’s hoping it paid off.  Did you…” He glances toward Caster, who is still wearing his guise of the man in the red coat.  “Did you save you from those things?”

“That One,” Val says, jerking his thumb toward Caster, “figured you’d be more useful alive than in pieces.”

“Better prove him right,” Jim adds, cracking his knuckles.

“Now, see here—” Petri begins, drawing an exasperated sigh from Jordan.  Val is ready, though:  from behind his back, he pulls a roll of duct tape.  He wiggles it with a flashy grin before tossing it to Jim, who deftly applies it to Petri’s mouth.

“We’ll talk to you in a minute, Petri Dish.”  Jim pats his cheek in imitation of Val before grabbing another chair and taking a seat.

Val also grabs a chair and spins it around to sit in it backwards, facing Jordan and leaning his elbows on the back of it.  “So,” he begins cheerily.  “Why don’t you tell me what the hell you got yourselves into?”

“Where do you want me to start?”  Jordan asks.

“How about you start with why you double-crossed Reines?”

Jordan glances quickly between Siobhan and Caster, then back to Val before sighing.  “Alright, that one’s easy.  We were never working for Lord El-Melloi.”

“That how’d you get involved in this in the first place?”

“How did you?” Jordan shoots back, clearly unwilling to give without a little information in return.

Val and Jim exchange a look around their captives, then Val offers, “I work for Reines.  I’m one of her spies.  She trusts me, so she asked me to do her a favor.”

Jim pipes up, “I really need a scholarship.  She just kind of called me out of the blue.”

Jordan looks surprised by both of these answers and seems to mull over his own before replying, “I’m from the United States.  I’m a researcher, mostly a chronicler.  A little while ago, I came across something about energy storage; I thought it was really interesting, but most of the papers that I could find—”

“—were in Russian.”  Val and Jim both finished for him.  Jim goes on, “Let me guess:  authored by a guy named Grigori Vasilyevich.”

Jordan seems surprised, but nods.  “That’s right.  When Emil called me, I thought that was why he was pairing me up with Petri.  I figured that Petri was going to be my translator on the project.”

Behind him, Petri makes a face and loud – although muffled – noises of protest.

Jordan goes on, “Emil also promised me – us both, I suppose – a huge amount of status down the line.  All we had to do was get him this one thing.”

“And you didn’t think this was weird at all?”  Val asks.  “With the American Grail Wars and everything?”

Jordan shakes his head.  “They had crossed my radar, but they weren’t my focus by any stretch.  I just figured they were a weird thing that happened, so I didn’t pay much attention to talk of them.”

“So, how did you get caught up with Reines?”

“She called me,” Jordan tells him.  “Emil said that everything would be arranged, and then Reines called.  I didn’t think twice about it until he called again to make sure I’d met up with Petri, and by then… Well, by then, it seemed like it was too late.”

Here, Jim cuts in.  “So, did you summon Berserker?  Or did Petri?”

Jordan hangs his head.  “We both did.”

Everyone present raises an eyebrow at that.  “How?”  Val asks.

“I thought it was one Servant, one Master.”  Siobhan chimes in.

Both Jordan and Petri seem to notice her for the first time, but she says nothing else, only waves for them to get on with their explanation.

Jordan shakes his head.  “It’s supposed to be, but… it turns out that by altering the summoning ritual, the would-be Master can ensure that their Servant becomes the Berserker class.  And, it turns out, that two people providing energy to the summoning circle leads to both of them getting stuck with the Servant.”  He huffs in apparently self-directed annoyance.  “If I had been paying more attention… But by the time I knew what was happening, the kid was already there and we were both stuck with them.”

“Do you even know who you summoned?”  Jim asks.

Jordan shakes his head again.  “I just know that they’re terrifying.  Or… Well, I guess that they were.  Thank you for taking care of that, by the way.”

Again, the captors exchange a glance filled with malicious glee.  “Should we tell them?”  Val asks.

Jim nods vigorously.  “Yeah, you guys managed to summon Mordred.  You know, dread Red Knight, likes blood a lot, killer of King Arthur, all that.”

Jordan and Petri both look horrified, causing Jim and Val to burst into laughter again.  When they quiet down, Jordan looks pensive, then decides, “It makes sense, given what Emil had us pick up from the vault.”

“Which was?”  Caster presses.

Jordan gulps, clearly nervous about being addressed by the person who is likely a Servant.  “Well… Emil used us to pick up a bunch of random stuff from the vault, but the thing he was really insistent on was a crystal-encased piece of wood.  I did some research after we grabbed it, and… it was a shard of the Round Table.”

Jim and Val remembered this piece of information from Reines, but it was news to Caster and Siobhan, whose surprised gasps can be heard in the silence following the declaration.

Caster leans forward.  “Where is it now?”

“We don’t have it anymore,” Jordan replies.  “Emil had us leave it in a dead drop when we were done, and when I checked later, it was gone.”

“So Emil probably has it now,” Val guesses.

Jordan shrugs.  “Or maybe a street urchin got ahold of it, for all we know.  Uh,” he glances over his shoulder at Jim, who is glaring at him.  “Not that I have anything against street urchins.  I just mean that we don’t know where it wound up.”

Val frowns for a moment, then says, “Well, thanks.  We’ll have to double-check your information and all that, but I appreciate your honesty, or at least your deceit with a straight face.  Can I get you anything?”

Jordan starts to shake his head, then coughs and admits, “Water would be great.”

“Should we untie his hands?”  Val asks the room in general.

“It would make it easier for me to drink, yes,” Jordan quips.

“I don’t want you trying anything funny with magecraft!”

Jordan gives Val a critical look, then tells him, “I don’t need my hands to use magic.  I mean, I don’t know what they teach you in pretty boy rock star school.”

Jim laughs in response and unties Jordan while Val goes to retrieve a glass of water.  He returns bearing the water and his guitar.  Jordan sits on the floor against the wall near Siobhan while the captors return to Petri.

Petri continues to make loud noises of protest as Val settles down and begins idly strumming his guitar.  Jim distracts him, though, as he towers over the noble – who looks much smaller without his ridiculous hat – and, glaring at him with all the force of will he can muster, swiftly rips off the duct tape.  Petri howls with resentment, and Siobhan and Jordan wince in sympathy.

“Alright,” Jim demands.  “Why don’t you tell us how an upstanding prick like yourself got drawn into working… under… someone?”

Jordan nearly chokes on the drink he was taking, and Siobhan claps a hand over her mouth to muffle her own laughter.  Val and Caster have no such qualms, though, and again burst out laughing.

Petri huffs and twists his face in displeasure.  “I am a proud scion of the Wilhelm line, and I will not be treated this way!”

“Yeah?” Jim leans forward a little more, his towering frame looming over Petri.  “If the Wilhelm line is so proud, then what gives?”

Petri’s blustering confidence begins to falter.  “We just need… a little help, that’s all.”

Jim and Val exchange another look.  “They’re out of money,” Val translates.

“Socially bankrupt,” Jim muses.

Caster chimes in, “Morally bankrupt as well, I’d imagine.”

Petri blusters for a moment more, then seems to deflate a little.  “Well… Yes.  It is true that we’ve fallen on… fiscally difficult times.”

“And you got into this because…?”  Jim prompts.

“Because I thought Jordan was a financial advisor!”

Jordan looks almost as horrified as he had at the revelation of his Servant’s identity.  Jim throws up his hands.  “Did neither of you two assholes talk to each other?!”

“Well…”  “…No.”

Jim puts his face in his hands.  “So you thought that Emil will pairing you up with a financial advisor, and you ended up summoning a national disaster and getting intimidated by a tiny woman in a restaurant.”

Siobhan and Jordan both look surprised but amused as Petri sputters some more.  “How… How did you know about that?!”

((An attentive reader will recall that all parties at the incident that Jim refers to were under the disguises that Caster had woven for them, besides Assassin, who is not present at this time.))

“Look,” Val says, addressing both of the ex-Masters.  “You got conned.  You get played by a guy named Emil Nuada-Re Sophia-Ri.  Is that right?”

“Sophia-Ri?!”  Petri gasps.  “But… they don’t exist anymore!”

Jim shakes his head.  “People keep saying that, but they definitely do.”

“Not in any meaningful way!”  Petri insists.  “They used to have quite a lot of influence, but not anymore.”  He twists to look at Jordan.  “And as for your paper-writer, Vasilyevich?  I don’t think anyone has heard from him in… oh, at least five years!”

“Well, that’s nice,” Jim drawls sarcastically. “Because that guy has two very shiny Knight hands in this War.”

“What do you know about that Faery, by the way?”  Caster asks.

Petri thinks for a moment.  “If Emil is a Sophia-Ri, as you say, then I assume he summoned it.  His family was always well-known for their summoning proficiency.”

The group exchanges a look of concern and questioning.  Then Jim says, “Alright, one more question:  Where’s the dead drop where you left the Shard?”

“It’s at the Colosseum,” Petri tells them.  “Right outside, I suppose.  At the northwest entrance, there’s a stone in the wall that moves.”

Jim keeps his glare up for another long moment, just to be sure Petri is telling the truth, then relaxes a little and turns to Siobhan.  “I guess we should check in on how they’re doing with investigating the fire.”

“Fire?”  Jordan asks.

Val nods.  “Yeah.  Your place… kinda caught on fire after we got you out of there.”

“Oh!”  Jordan, dismayed at the news, nearly drops his glass.  “My notes!”

VII. Apartments in Ostiense

The scene at the apartment complex has calmed down somewhat since the news report:  fire crews have contained the blaze and most of the bodies seem to have been recovered.  Assassin confirms, to her dismay, that it is the same place from which they rescued Petri and Jordan.  She points out the apartment where the two were staying, and she and Lancer decide to search invisibly so that no one can oust them.  Since they won’t be able to sense each other, they agree to start their searches at opposite ends of the complex and meet on a nearby hill to discuss what they find.

When they meet up half an hour later, they both report the same grave news:  more than one death seal was set at the site.  They seem to have been set up at regular intervals throughout the apartment complex, as though whoever set them either wanted to burn it all down, or had a specific target but was uncertain of where that target would be.  Like the rooms in the warehouse, each of the units seems to have caught fire individually; there is surprisingly little damage to the connecting structures like walls and hallways.  Lancer notes that this is unlike the Pantheon fire, but Assassin points out that the Pantheon was more or less one giant room for the purposes of such a spell.

Assassin also counts the casualties and confirms what the news report said:  at least 50 dead in the blaze.  Lancer observes that most of them were in their apartments at the time, which reasonably absolves Assassin of guilt:  she did set off the fire alarm and watched as people filed out.  The damage is a few hours old, but Assassin and Caster did not see it; they figure that the blaze must have started at 12:30 or 1pm, after the two Servants had left.

As they are mulling over their evidence, Lancer gets a pensive look.

“Yesterday afternoon,” she says.  “After our Masters met for coffee, Siobhan and I went to investigate another warehouse that had caught fire.  The origin of the fire seemed to be magical; like this one, each room seemed to have caught on fire independently.  I did not know what to look for at the time, but I am willing to bet that were we to go back, we would find evidence of this same seal.”

Assassin tilts her head, puzzled.  “Did they have the sense of death as well?”

“No,” Lancer answers.  “Assuming that the fires are from the source, the sense of death seems only to occur when the seals take lives.”

Assassin hums thoughtfully.  “A test run, perhaps?”

“Perhaps,” Lancer agrees.  “What are the commonalties here?  Is the intention to kill, to cause many casualties?  Or to hide evidence of some other wrongdoing?”

“The only common point that we have found so far is the link to the Sophia-Ri family:  the warehouse was owned by them, and it seems that Petri and Jordan have a connection to them as well.  But that does not excuse the attack on the Pantheon.”

“You mentioned last night that it may be a statement of attack against you,” Lancer reminds her.

Assassin nods in confirmation.  “Yes, that seems likely.  But there was also a lot of death from that, as your Master unfortunately had to witness.”

Lancer thinks for a moment more, then frowns.  “This man, this Vasilyevich – what did you say his specialization was?”

Assassin blinks.  “Storage of energy in… Oh.  I have a terrible thought.”

“Speak it,” Lancer invites.

“Vasilyevich was researching storing energy in ordinary objects.  He is likely the one setting the seals.  What if the energy from the deaths was somehow being redirected into the Grail’s vessel?”

Lancer blanches.  “That would be… not good.  I am not sure exactly how not good, but definitely not good.”  She hesitates, then asks Assassin, “How much do you know of the Grail, of its function?”

“Only what I learned upon being summoned:  that it requires energy from the Servants, and that the last one standing will get whatever they wish.”

Lancer leans against a nearby tree and sighs heavily.  “That is also what I learned.  But I fear that this will fall into the same category of all the other wish-granting tales:  there is always a catch, or a terrible price.  I have a terrible thought.”

“Speak it,” Assassin invites gently.

“To my understanding, the filling of the Grail comes not from the Servants’ summoning, but from our passing.  Our deaths are what pour our energy back into the vessel.  I fear that six of the seven of us will be insufficient.  I fear that in order to fully manifest and perform its function, the Grail needs to take us all.”

Assassin feels the speculation like a cold lump in her gut.  She presses on, though, following the line of thinking:  “So then if the lives taken by these seals are being redirected into the Grail, what happens?  How many mortal lives are equal to the life of one Servant?  Will the vessel fill faster, or become overcharged?”

Lancer shakes her head somberly.  “I do not know.  Perhaps it will simply be transfigured, twisted into something terrible by the nature of the energy poured into it.”

Assassin nods.  “I imagine that this Holy Grail War is like any other ritual:  what you put into it must matter and will affect the outcome.  It’s like a cauldron in that regard.”

Both women freeze and lock eyes, the same thought crossing their mind at once:  there is an item that both of them know too well, that could reasonably be considered a vessel for the Grail, and that would be a terrible thing to transfigure for evil purposes.

“Assassin…” Lancer says slowly.  “You know of Pair Dadeni, do you not?”

“The Cauldron of Rebirth,” Assassin confirms.  “I know it, although its location was not known in my time.  It is said to be buried somewhere—”

“—in the country that is called England now,” Lancer finishes.

“Surely the Mage’s Association would have recovered such a powerful artifact by now,” Assassin adds, putting the pieces together.  “And that association did recently make a suspicious shipment to the Church…”

Lancer covers her mouth with her hands and closes her eyes briefly.  When she opens them, she looks both terrified and determined.  “Let us return to the safe house.  I believe we need to phone your Master’s sponsor.”

VIII. Thirteen Seals

It is a little after 4pm by the time Lancer and Assassin return to the safehouse to report their findings.  Caster is equally disturbed by their discoveries and fears, agreeing that pouring death energy into the Grail – whatever it may be – would probably end in disaster.  So, while Petri and Jordan sit in the back room discussing what to do now that their Servant is gone, the other Masters gather around the coffee table in the living room to call Reines.

She picks up after the second ring.  “Hello?”

“What do you know about the Cauldron of Rebirth?”  Val gets right to the point.

Reines is silent for a moment, and Assassin jumps in.  “And while we are on the topic, what do you know of how the Grail is supposed to work?  How does it fill?  What happens when it’s full?”

“Oh,” Reines breathes.  “Damn it all.”

“Talk to us, Reines,” Jim pleads.  “This could be really important.”

“I know, I know,” she replies.  “I only just found out about it myself.”

“Found out about what?”

The chorus of six voices must be surprising, because for once, Reines sounds flustered.  “Belfaban’s shipment.  I did some digging – there were hardly any records – but I finally found out what it was.  Whoever pushed it through accelerated the timeline of a shipment that I had put in place.”  She sighs, almost a groan.  “It was Pair Dadeni.”

“Shit,” all three Servants breath.

Then, “Why?”  Assassin asks.

“It was to be a peace offering,” Reines explains, sounding pained.  “A sign of cooperation and trust between the Clock Tower and the Church.  I arranged it, but it wasn’t supposed to happen for months!  There’s no way that Belfaban could have cleared the shipment; he was out of the country at the time.”

“It was accelerated for the War,” Val guesses.

“Probably by Vasilyevich,” Jim adds glumly.

The group can hear the sound of Reines typing on her laptop, then she says, “You asked me about how the Grail works.  Truth be told, no one is sure.  It’s the core of the ritual, of course, but from War to War, its function seems to be variable.  As for how it fills up… I assumed that once most of the Servants were dead, it would just… happen.”

“How did the other Wars end?”  Val asks.

Reines hums in thought.  “The Fuyuki Wars never manifested the Grail.  It was destroyed every time.  At least one of those was by a Servant’s Noble Phantasm, and led to a considerable amount of… property damage.  In one of the American Wars, they say that the Grail was used to allow some of the Servants to manifest permanently.  In the other American War, the ritual got shut down peacefully and without too much collateral damage.  The Red Flower Society knows more about it – many of their founding members were there – but they don’t talk about it much.”  She pauses.  “You think the Cauldron is the Grail vessel, don’t you?”

The group exchanges a tentative look, then nods as one.  “Yes,” Assassin answers.  “That is our collective fear.”

She explains their theory that the death seals are being used to accelerate or augment the filling of the Grail.  Reines listens without interjecting.  Assassin also decides to mention at this junction that there is a suspiciously high number of Arthurian or Arthurian-adjacent spirits in the War; Reines makes a surprised noise at that.

“Out of curiosity,” she says coolly, “how many death seal fires have there been?  Specifically, ones that have caused casualties?”

The group deliberates for a moment, then answers, “Three:  one at the warehouse, one at the Pantheon, and the one today at the apartments.”

“Do you think they are trying for a one-to-one replacement,” Assassin asks, “of batches of ordinary death in place of Servant death?”

Reines hums again.  “As most of you know, ritual runs on concepts.  The Holy Grail War is no different.  Given the prevalence of Arthurian spirits in this War, it may be time to look at Arthurian concepts.  Take the Round Table, for example:  there were thirteen knights seated there.”

“So, are they aiming for thirteen sacrifices?”  Jim asks.

“By my reckoning, they would only need six if all goes as planned.”

The group exchanges a confused look.  Reines must take their silence for the confusion that it is, because she goes on, “If no one picks up on this, it’s the perfect plan:  the other combatants continue to fight, eventually wiping out all seven Servants.  Were six death seals to result in casualties before that…”

“Then there’s a death for each place at the Round Table,” Caster concludes.

“Yes,” Reines agrees.  “And there is an obscure part of the legend that suggests that each seat at the Round Table was associated with a seal, locking something away.  Thirteen knights, thirteen seals.”

“What does it unlock?”  Assassin demands.  Even she has never heard this part of the legend.

Reines sighs.  “I don’t know!  I’ve never heard anything more of it beyond the theoretical existence of the seals!  But if this is the case – if this is where this War is going – then you’re already down four out of the thirteen.”

The group all nod somberly.  Between the three successful death seals and their fight with Berserker, the ritual is halfway to completing Reines’ predicted mundane death quota, and one Servant in to the Servant count.

“So what do we do?”  Val asks.  “Stop killing Servants?”

“That’s going to be difficult in the coming days,” Caster predicts, and they all know that he does not need prophecy to tell that much.

“I would settle for preventing further civilian casualties,” Reines tells them.

The group agrees.  Then, Val snaps his fingers.  “One more question:  what do we do with Bookworm and Petri Dish?”

“With…?”

“Jordan and Petri!”  Jim and Val chorus.

“What?!  Where…?”

“It’s a long story,” Val tells her, “but the important part is that we have Jordan and Petri with us now.  They were Berserker’s Masters, and now they’re not.”

Jim adds a little more context: “They’re sitting in the safe house we’ve been using, because our Servants rescued them from more of those creepy shadow things.”

There is a beat of silence.  Then Reines exclaims, “Why do you keep sending me strays?!”

“We’re not—” Val begins, then thinks better of it.  “Okay, we totally are.  But they shouldn’t stay here!  They’re not safe!  What if the things come after them again?”

There is a thunk sound that the group assumes is Reines dropping her forehead to the desk, then she heaves a sigh and they can hear her typing again.  “Alright, fine.  I’m booking them tickets for tonight, 11pm.  Just… keep them safe until then, and get them to the airport in one piece.”

“Will do!”  Val chirps.

“Is there anything else?”  Reines asks, sounding as though she dreads the answer.

Assassin pipes up again.  “There is one more thing, if you have it.  Is there any record of who picked up the shipment to the Vatican?”

Reines grunts.  “There’s hardly any record of the shipment being processed, let alone who picked it up.  But I think I know your suspicion, and I share it as well:  Orsino Veronesi may be the Master you have yet to encounter.  If he is the one who received the shipment, then it would make sense for the Grail to tie him conceptually to itself.”

“Can Executors even be Masters?”  Val asks.

“There is precedent,” Reines says slowly, “and it never turns out well.”

After that, the group exchanges evening pleasantries and hangs up.  Jim sets his jaw and looks around at the rest of them.  “We have to take down Vasilyevich.”

Val nods in agreement.  “Definitely, before he can get anybody else.”

Siobhan nods as well.  “I agree.  Lancer and I will stay with you, at least until we see that fight through.”

“Speaking of,” Lancer asks Caster, trying and failing to sound casual.  “Where did you say that you had located Saber’s probable base of operations?”

Caster’s ridiculous mustache twists into the dourest frown that he can muster.  “You are hardly in any shape for a showdown with another Knight.  Even if I did maim him on our last visit.”

Seeing her dark glare of disappointment, Assassin chimes in, “Don’t worry!  I swear to you that we will bring you along on the trip to fight Saber.  I, for one, would love to see you punch a knight.”

Caster stands, stretches, and adjusts his illusory hat.  “For now, though, the only action you are going to see is going to find that faery.”

Lancer raises an eyebrow at him.  “In my experience, Magus, if you want action, you do not go seek out a faery.”

Her deadpan delivery brings out laughter in everyone, a much needed dose of lightheartedness that carries them through their preparations for that evening’s journey.

#session log post