Fate/Stay Royal

Bazett, if she was honest, was starting to get sick of how often it was that Servants ran into each other into Fuyuki. It was times like these she wished the city was actually a little larger and better delineated. After all, Fuyuki was actually a relatively small place, built out of an old fishing village, and as a result, it was pretty easy to cross the entirety of its border. Especially if you were able to move faster then a regular human.

"Right. Docks." Bazett declared softly, as she slowly diverted from her original path. "We'll use the old camp." Archer nodded. He clearly understood what Bazett meant. Hakuno's former camp was still trapped. It might not be particularly effective on a Servant, but at least Bazett could use that to her advantage.

"... I don't sense anything, Master."

"You think Archer is lying?"

"... No. That would be entirely too convenient." She answered. "It would be too easy if he was. No, I think he picked something up on the wind."

"What wind..?" Bazett's lips pursed as she slipped through the streets. Whatever it was, she couldn't feel it. The weight of Fragarach felt comforting in her pocket, and it was probably her greatest defence. If a Servant did attack, then she could prevent it from doing too much. or even kill it if it tried to use its trump card.

The docks were a bit more crowded then Bazett expected, and not with who she had expected. Dock workers had arrived at some point. In hindsight, of course there would be people here in the middle of the day, but it became more and more clear, as she made her way to where Hakuno had camped out, that there were places within the docks that the workers did not go. Archer at one point nodded to Bazett and slipped away, vanishing into the air, while Caster inched just a bit closer.

"Feel anything?"

"No. That's what worries me." Caster noted. "After all, Archer's sensors are keen, but I'm not sure they are that keen."

"Think its an Assassin?"

"Probably." She shrugged briefly. "Or maybe it is nothing. I think if Archer can feel it and I can't, then Assassin is the most likely option."

"Right." Bazett bit her lip at that. She wasn't wrong, after all. Even so... "This feels wrong."

"Wrong how?"

"I almost want to say someone is calling to me." Bazett admitted. "What kind of game is this, where multiple players are claiming the same set of pawns?" It was as if her stomach was pulling her in multiple directions. The world was uncertain and so too was the future. Bazett's brain struggled to process why everything continued to follow such odd causality. It was- "Caster. Something is attacking my emotions."

It was an attack. A nightmare inducer that was infecting everything near it. She was fighting some sort of wraith and the first blow was struck before the enemy even arrived on the battlefield. Caster's eyes widened, as if the pieces were already coming together in her head.

"Wait, al- That crying bitch! I know who it is!" She declared. "Arch-"

"I'm a bit busy!" Archer's response cut Caster off inside Bazett's head before she could even finish her words. "Up high! They ambushed us back!"

"How?" Bazett voiced her own confusion. "They couldn't have known we were coming here."

"Ambush is probably a strong word. Shit, no wonder he sensed it. He's sensitive to this stuff." Caster swore. "Bazett, if you see him, punch him."

"Sorry?"

"There's not a lot of time. If he's who I think it is, then he'll break down the second he see's you. Punch him in the face, immediately."

"Wait!" Caster was already moving, as she jumped onto a nearby storage container. Bazett could feel Caster's sorcery on her, but at the same time, Bazett was far slower then the Caster that was already moving.

Caster was very gung ho. That was something that Bazett was coming to understand. Yet at the same time, she was more careful then Bazett gave her credit for.

"I'm saving our idiot of an Archer." Caster's conviction was comforting, at least, her sword-staff and armour forming immediately as she started moving. "Trust nothing."

Why? Why should she trust nothing?

The worst part was, Bazett was uncertain if that thought was actually her own, or if her mind was addled. The idea she could be affected so was alien. She had thought magi who utilised emotional warfare before, but this was something else entirely.

Was there just one Servant?

As she spun, her sixth sense roaring, her guess became simultaneously no, and yes.

The shadows seemed entirely too long right now. Letting out a long breath, Bazett's hands found her gloves, and she slowly started pulling them tight on her fists.

"Show yourself. I know you are there."

"And you have no idea how much that pisses me off." After a long moment, it appeared, as if it melted out of the shadows. No, not as if it melted out of the shadows, Bazett realised. The shadows were, in a way, it's home. "What gave us away? Was it his crying, or was it the hate?"

The form was vaguely man-like, but at the same time, bitter and shapeless, hands gripping the side of the steel crate and pulling taut. If it was a natural form, it might even have damaged the crate, yet in the end, it was not even strong enough to do appreciable harm to the fading paint.

"Both and neither." Bazett admitted. "What gave you away most was your desire to kill. If you reigned it in, you might be able to get nearby without making it obvious."

Shear bravado. Bazett knew she was putting on a brave face from the outset. If this thing had wanted to kill her, then it could do so. In fact, it probably could have done so before she'd actually noticed.

The shadow, perhaps, knew this, for it chuckled bitterly.

"Nothing can go right, can it?" Its chuckle almost drove Bazett crazy then and there. It was the chuckle, sinister and despairing, of a defeated villain in the last throes of life. "Makes me want to gut that stupid brat of a Sa-"

For the sake of Bazett's sanity, she just slugged the shadow in the face. It felt entirely too cathartic, the black, amorphous humanoid form twisting as her fist crunched into its face, flying backwards and bouncing off the crate behind it in a rather satisfying fashion. Immediately, Bazett started feeling better. Whatever it was, it could be fought.

"WHAT THE HELL, MASTER!?" It screamed in pain, rage, and something for more bitter as it picked itself off the ground. The idea of being the Master of something like this thing, was almost ludicrous to behold. "I KNOW I'M A NICE PUNCHING BAG, BUT THAT STILL HURTS!"

Letting out a long breath, Bazett's hands clenched in front of her chest. It was, perhaps, a little relaxed, but the cockiness of the stance invited mistakes from her opponent. In this foe, at least, she didn't expect him to realise that it was a mistake to charge until after the mistake had been punished.

"Well, good." Bazett noted. "That it hurts shows you are at least alive."

"Huh, is that what humans think?" The shadow muttered, cracking it's neck as it stood. "Well, that... tch. I guess that explains a bit."

"Who are you?"

"Your Servant, duh. You'll come crawling back one day." The shadow laughed, giggling like a little schoolgirl. Bazett's hand tightened. She wanted nothing more then to just hit him.

What was his Trump Card? What was the error she could force that'd let her kill him?

"I think I'd remember contracting something like you."

"That's the beauty. No one does." It was almost a wistful declaration from the shadow, spreading it's arms wide. "After all, only one person re-"

The image of the shadow being rag-dolled into a wall by an odd combination of an armoured knight in priestly vestments crashing his foot into the shadows face was almost surreal. Bazett, however, was simply over the interruptions.

"Oh what now!?" She growled. The knight slowly drew himself back to his feet, glancing briefly at Bazett, before returning his attention to the shadow.

"I see. That's why you were drawn here." His voice was male, Bazett realised. He was the source of her haywire emotions. "That means you are Mordred's Master?"

The statement was punctuated with screaming metal, as steel bit steel.

"... Who the hell are you?" Bazett asked. The knight chuckled sadly, almost morosely at that.

"Just someone who wronged her and was wronged in turn." He answered softly. "You need not fear. This battle ends in your victory, after all."

"The hell does that mean?"

"He means that this is just playing out something that happened to Father in the last war." Bazett's blood ran cold, as Caster strode back out of the steel city, her sword dragging along the ground. "Don't you, Lancelot?"

"Damn it, you bitch of a witch." The shadow whined as its form snaked back beside Lancelot's body. "You are too clever by a half. You can go first."

"Archer, who are you fighting?" Bazett's eyes never left Lancelot. He was the obvious threat.

"A Rider. He wields a sword and spear in accord. He tried to summon a chariot, but... well, it didn't work at all. I didn't even hit it very hard and it shattered like glass." Archer's answer was dry. Still, it helped Bazett put the pieces together.

There weren't actually multiple Servants present at all.

"Ideas, Caster?" She asked, slowly edging around Caster to cover her blind spot. Caster's movements were fast, of that, there were no doubt, but at the same time, that she favoured striking from the right had not gone unnoticed.

"Tch. Shoving my sword up the wimps permanently collapsed spine sounds like a great start." She declared darkly. The knight, face still hidden, just winced at that.

[ ] Sounds good. Attack.
[ ] Try to negotiate. Surely there was no point in fighting if this thing thought she was it's Master.
[ ] Retreat, lest history repeat in a way that couldn't be predicted.
[ ] Write in.