Outskirts of London. A few hours earlier.
'Why do mages and their ilk always prefer to live in the darkest and gloomiest of places?'
Such was the line of thought of a seemingly young woman as she stared out of her Master's recently purchased apartment window. Seeing the dreary clouds overhead, she couldn't help but reminisce of clearer skies and the sun's warmth on her skin. Though that past was fraught with more misery than she cared to remember, on account of an idiotic king who thought the lake just on the horizon were the shores of a vast ocean, it was still a warmer memory compared to this damp and depressing sight.
The Servant, secretly named Hephaestion and known as Faker to those that mattered, felt like dying of boredom.
For the past few months, she and her on-the-run exile of a magi, Doctor Heartless, had been travelling here and there, ceaselessly searching for clues to the ever-smiling Doctor's mission. That of piecing together the mysteries and occurrences of the Fourth Holy Grail War. The same one that apparently claimed her moron of a liege's life.
'And to think I thought you would never fall to mere heathens…'
She didn't really much care about the details of the war's developments until its end. However, she wouldn't deny she was curious as to who had bested the fool and how. Scant as their answers were, her thoughts were left unsated. And now, here she was. Stuck in this misbegotten hell of a boring hideout with nothing to do. Which wasn't entirely a bad thing. The furnishings were accommodating as they were comfortable. It was certainly a luxury compared to when she basked in the royal dwellings of her old king's conquests.
Still, her sword arm itched for something to swing at. She wanted for not just a brawl, but an actual fight. She hadn't had a proper go at someone since their little skirmish in Germany. And even after they tried prying into the identities of their opponents then, snooping only achieved getting marked for assassination. And while neither a Servant nor magi such as Faker and her Master need worry about the common folk's attempt on their lives, those that hounded them were no mere killers for hire.
Her Master once discussed with her the powers that be. Though her summons from the Throne was ingrained upon her common knowledge, she was due for a briefing of what to watch out for when living with a magus with a Sealing Designation. Primarily, the threat posed by Executors and Enforcers.
The former were of the Church. She knew well the necessity of temples and clergy keeping some form of authority over heresies and understood that they were of the most intolerant when it came to dealing with their foes. Enforcers were a tricker bunch to comprehend. Though labelled as the Mage Association's cleanup crew, there was no preventing some infighting and factional disputes within the group. Save for the rare few, the Enforcers wouldn't hesitate to salvage what they could from their targets, something Doctor Heartless was wary of.
But the people sent after them, they paled in comparison.
Consistent, cunning, and coordinated. And, despite being held in comparison with the death squads of very shady organizations, the goons sent after them relied on little mystic arts if any. But with military hardware, rigorous training, and disciplined coordination that could rival Iskandar's army… Faker wouldn't be the first Servant to admit that she was feeling quite nervous about a non-Servant foe.
Guns and bullets weren't at all lethal or even effective against Servants, but Faker wasn't going to take her chances with her lifeline. Heartless acted fickle and continued to smile off bad news after bad news, but he too knew he could be killed so easily. Having already taken a beating by their little friend, Lucifer, her little minions hot on their trail with sniper rounds and missile launchers left them no room to breathe. Granted, they didn't engage in public areas, but they couldn't take it easy when their refuge could suddenly be set alight.
It didn't help that she couldn't reveal herself as freely now that they'd set up shop near the most densely magus-populated area in the world. The doctor being a wanted fugitive was one thing, but having to hide the presence of a high-ranking spiritual entity such as herself was a necessity. The last thing they needed was to tip off the sensitive types to their location. Too many questions, and too few hideouts left to duck away in.
Running away from those who would want her dead was a bore. Having to stay hidden at all times was a chore. But not getting to vent her stress, after tasting combat for the first time in a long, long while? Oh, that was hell.
'Stuck up, arrogant bitch…' Faker only had verbal abuse to hurl at nothing. Blame was all she could throw at her first real opponent after being summoned. And with her little army forcing them to stay hidden, all the pent-up frustrations were starting to boil over. 'Once I get her throat in my hand, I'll—'
CRACK
She stepped back from the windowsill she'd been looking out of. Just her finger tapping against the fine wood had it chipping with a hairline crack running up the glass. A little more of that and it may just get someone knocking on their front door.
She couldn't draw attention to herself while they were here. That thought alone had her frowning as she reclined on a nearby couch. Kicking her feet up, she laid back with her hands behind her head as she continued to stare at the grey skies out the window.
'Hmph. Sooner or later, we'll have to move again.' Despite taking some minor comfort in the reprieve, Faker was aware it wasn't to last. From rundown hovels no more of a shed than a home to their currently lavish room on the fourth floor of a five-story apartment complex. With an almost unlimited budget thanks to her Master's sponsor, they'd been hopping from one shelter to the next. But true escape was proving difficult when financial trails could bring the hounds on them anyways. "Yet I still don't understand why we choose to hide this close to the Clock Tower you're so wary of. Are you certain they're an organization we should truly fear, or has your paranoia finally cracked you?"
She didn't bother to face the man himself for she knew her Master was attentive enough to hear her from his paper mountain of an office desk.
"'Fear them'? No. There's little to fear of an atypical magus, assuming you know how to navigate around their pride and desires. At times, it's much easier to bribe them with something they want in order to avoid conflict. But make no mistake. The Mage Association's lapdogs are the curious type. They certainly wouldn't hesitate to dissect either of us to know what makes an entity as unique as a Servant tick. Beings of legend such as yourself are quite fascinating after all." Heartless' smile barely wavered as he read through his notes. "Not even having one of their Lords as my unofficial employer would save us from their scrutiny. More so when there's a bounty on my head. However, rest assured. The last place they would think to look would be directly under their noses. Not even the Church has much of a foothold in London, bar a few representatives, and not even the most uncompromising headhunters from the Executors would dare risk an incident so close to the center of the magi world. As for the 'unknowns' that's been after us for some time now… I'd like to think they too understand the dangers of hunting us on someone else's turf."
"You mean 'if they even care'. Regardless, we will have to leave soon. Preferably at dawn. We stayed here long enough." Faker scrunched her eyes and listened to the rain. Apart from the weather, the air of this place put her off even more. Her instincts didn't like the feel of this city. "This place gives me the creeps."
She need not look out the window to sense all the magic abound. Weak as they were compared to the usual she had to face in the past, sensation-numbing barriers and cognition-warding bounded fields littering around this building alone numbered in the hundreds. Many of them, her Master, prepared to hide her presence away. But she knew they couldn't rely on such a weak system forever. All it takes is catching her anchor by the corner of one's eye and they'll be compromised in an instant. It's not as if the man with only smiles to give was inconspicuous to begin with.
And, there was the matter of the given talent of the average magicians here, or magi as they're known these days. Call it intuition, a sixth sense or maybe simple deduction, but if this area of the world was the central seat of power of the best and experienced experts of their mystic craft, seeking her out should be child's play. It doesn't matter how many seals or wards you place, hungry wolves will be lured in by the strong stench of her spiritual body. Well, given that she doesn't actively suppress it.
"I share your sentiments. However, I ask for your patience. We can rest easy soon. Once I manage to organize and put the final touches to my findings, that is. I've almost consolidated all the data we managed to find out over the years. If I'm correct, then I'm close to learning the full truth behind the events of the Fourth Grail War."
'At least I can learn whatever happened with that dumbass of a king…' Harrumphing to herself, the woman allowed a slight smirk, narrow gaze trained out the boorish grey skies. Foolish as Iskandar was, she who once acted as his shadow was loyalty-bound to ensure his honor hadn't been stained. Especially by some deranged walking flamethrower of a whore spouting nonsense. "Well hurry up, you smiling academic. Finish your slow sagely searching so we may be done with this place."
"Please don't rush me, Faker. We still need to submit them to Lord Animusphere. While I wouldn't shy away from using technology or other unconventional means for a magus, doing so may put us at risk to our 'other pursuers'. We will have to give them in person. Thankfully, exam season should be in full swing. All active professors and notable Lords will be occupied. We will easily find the Animusphere within the city."
"And if he can't be found immediately? It puts us at risk still, Master. A backup plan is always a need. I care not if you wish to pay him respects by doing things face-to-face, but don't think for a second I'd allow you to risk our safety by waltzing straight into that former school of yours." Faker rolled her eyes. "Considering you are a 'wanted man', I don't believe they'd simply allow you entry."
"Always critical of my ideas, aren't you." The man let out a sigh, smile remaining still, but undeterred, he nonchalantly replied with a shrug. "Oh well. I could settle for passing our findings to him via his daughter. She is a student in the same department I was head of before my accident, after all. Bar that, my replacement will do. Lord El-Melloi II may be newly appointed to his seat, but I don't believe Professor Waver Velvet will have any qualms simply passing some 'old documents' to a friend."
Unbeknownst to Hephaestion herself, she subconsciously winced, staring daggers at the sky upon hearing that boy's—well, now young man's—name. Waver Velvet. Former Master of Rider, Servant Iskandar, her king, and a survivor of the Fourth Grail War.
"That one… Are you certain we shouldn't think of him as an enemy as well?"
Heartless met her eyes. Unlike any normal man, he neither flinched nor acknowledged the pressure when confronted by her gaze. He merely asked as though stating a joke. "Do you bear some semblance of animosity because of jealousy? Or is it your pride that he of all people managed to summon your king as a Servant? Which is it?"
"Neither." She gave him a cold hard glare before breaking away first. "That is none of your business."
"If you don't wish to get into it, I shall respect your space. Both out of respect for your privacy and because I'm too busy." the said man began shuffling papers again. The way he rifled through a couple of sheets between sentences may seem like he was just faking it, but despite such assumptions, he'd been working like a machine all throughout the night. "Still, I suggest you not underestimate Professor Waver Velvet. He is… an interesting person, to say the least. Classed as a third-rate magus, he yet managed to survive the war that his own professor died in. What is most interesting is the aftermath of the war and his involvement in it. According to official reports from both the Clock Tower and the Church, the Master of Rider, Waver Velvet had managed to summon King Iskandar, a powerful and well-respected figure in history, yet survived the war without even killing any of the other Masters. And that's not for lack of trying. Curious, is it not? Actively participating yet not outright being eliminated. Yet he didn't win, despite being the only known survivor. Very… curious, do you not think so as well?"
"Are you implying he wasn't hiding away like a roach amidst the battlefield? Or are you saying he lied during the investigation?"
To be a sole survivor yet not be declared a winner… To say her King was the type to enact slaughter but the goal not be conquest and victory was to speak blasphemy. Her lord and liege would not simply ally with a bloodthirsty murderer nor would he heed such a man's orders. Hephaestion did not doubt her king. Iskander didn't shy away from killing, but he wasn't someone to kill for killing's its sake. Nor would he accept a lazy coward as his anchor.
Yet, if Waver Velvet truly managed to fight side by side with that fool of a conqueror, Hephaestion expected he at least take credit for his victories, as demanded by Iskandar's beliefs when it came to conquest.
"No." Heartless shook his head. "I do not doubt Waver Velvet is one to lie to the investigators. For one, there would be extraordinarily little to gain in antagonizing either organization by misleading them. Both the Mage's Association and the Church itself lost personnel in this war after all. It would be a stupid move to step on either party's toes. However…" The Doctor eyed one of his papers with the sharpest of scrutiny. "What if the official reports were changed? According to my own research, there should've been eight pairs of Masters and Servants this time around, one more than the ritual's usual. You recall us meeting the redheaded woman who fought with the same level as you, a Servant yourself and claimed to have killed Rider ten years ago. If it's not a lie and she really is a Servant who somehow found the means to stay materialized after the ritual, it would mean that official reports of the incident have been fabricated. Or the one that took them has been compromised. It couldn't be by the order of the Clock Tower Lords as Marisbury would have known something about it. But if it is someone who carries a seat higher than a Lord themselves, that leaves… oh, I see…"
"Master?" Faker eyed the man quietly. It was rare, but he often went quiet when something noteworthy had just cropped up.
Heartless stayed silent for a few moments before speaking. "It would appear that a particular ancient vampire inside the Tower prefers the truth be omitted from this world."
"A saboteur?"
"Not necessarily." The Doctor leaned back on his seat, letting his papers sit atop his desk. "There have been some things involving that Wizard Marshall in recent times that actually required intervention. Yet, of course, such details will remain confidential for security's sake. The same might be said of this topic. For what reasons, I do not know. But if my guess is correct, it might have something to do with the Counter Force."
'The Counter Force?' Faker hummed, interested but not really all that curious. Despite how much she was invested in her king's actions and end, such topics were not her primary concern. Unless… "What do they have to do with this? Has either my king or that Waver Velvet done something so egregious that it warrants their attention?"
"Not necessarily… But… if I'm correct, then perhaps their involvement is even deeper in the war. Deeper than your king may ever even have realized himself. But we have no chance of proving it unless we manage to get an audience with the Wizard Marshal. Yet… that is an issue in and of itself."
"How difficult can it be to make one undead talk?" Faker sat up, keeping her eye on Heartless' unchanging expression. It was through the little things like a sigh or slump shoulders that she could infer more of his hidden emotions.
"That man is far from the most talkative when it comes to the information we aren't supposed to be privy to. Investigating further could get messy." Brushing aside part of his crimson bangs above his eye, the Doctor sounded genuinely tired. The way he shut himself up and started staring into space meant this topic certainly baffled him this time.
Despite the unmoved outer shell that was his polite demeanor and clean appearance, there was a change in his silence. It was different. It was unhealthy. As his Servant, she could tell apart his ruffled mental state by a glance alone.
"How about you go and get something to eat, Master. Perhaps food and rest could put your mind at ease. You haven't taken a break, after all."
His Servant already knew that the man wasn't a fan of taking rests, but his body was still that of a human being, certain peculiarities, like the lack of a heart, aside. His mind was exhausted. The Doctor looked at the office's wall clock and silently agreed to his Servant's idea before slowly getting up.
Faker watched quietly from the side, content to allow him some time for himself. Mental reprieve before they relocated would do them well in their vigilance. Even a late-night dinner wouldn't hurt so long as it kept them prep and ready for the worst.
However, it seems they were not to be permitted even a moment of actual peace.
BOOM.