You sigh. Alice needs to be a lot more responsible. But you have a War to fight, and must believe she's fine. It's too late in the day to do anything. You mentally note down to try again tomorrow morning, and settle down to wait for the cover of darkness.
Night comes soon.
You head out as soon as it's full dark. Tonight is colder, cold enough to make you shiver in your coat. You travel in the same manner as previously, using your reinforced legs to propel you across rooftops in great bounds. It's a Saturday night, and the city is still lively, but not many people bothered looking up in their revelry.
You avoid the south side of the city and more sparsely inhabited neighbourhoods - both possible battlegrounds. You can't show up to a meeting with an enemy just after going through a fight, considering how you'd come out.
The run to the church is, mercifully, uninterrupted. You softly land on the road in front of you. The Church isn't grand or ornate, but it's large and commands an imposing view. But that's not what grabs your attention.
A man stands in the middle of the road. You know from the instant you lay eyes on him that he's a Servant.
Lean, more in a ragged manner than athletic, though old muscles are still evident. His body has the tanned, dirt-crusted skin of someone who's seen long travel and campaigning. Under those you think his skin is close to olive than white.. He's dressed in a loincloth and loose, dirty wraps like you'd expect some pilgrim to wear. But the most striking thing about his appearance is the dark red blindfold over his eyes. Despite being seemingly bereft of his eyesight, his head still moves to track you.
Berserker looks up at you as you approach. There's no weapon in his hands, though you suppose he could materialize it at anytime. He stares you up and down, then slowly steps backwards silently, as if to let you pass.
Lancer materializes next to you, holding up the spear. You don't attack Berserker either, but you keep a wary eye on him for the few seconds it takes you to walk past and head inside the Church grounds. Lancer remains outside, staring Berserker down.
You leave the servants to their silent standoff and go inside.
The Church's empty, save for two men at the end of the room, kneeling before the altar, both dressed in dark clothes befitting their profession.
"Ah, welcome, Mister Thorn. I hope you didn't run into any trouble on the way here." Father Michael rises and turns around as you approach. He's large and well built for a priest, stocky with age and living.
"That's Lord Thorn to you, " you mutter.
The other has shoulder length hair and is leaner. You can't read his body language: it's simultaneously peaceful and predatory. When he moves towards you, it's with all the grace of a man who is nothing.
"Kirei Kotomine." You say by way of greeting. He returns it.
"Alexander Thorn."
"I admit, it was quite a surprise. This is no Great War, so I find there are no need for alliances."
Kirei gives a smile that doesn't go any further from his lips. "No, I merely wished to ask you a question."
You pause. "That's all?" You cross your arms.
"Why do you fight?"
You stiffen. "What kind of question is that?"
"A fairly simple one. You battle in this war, risking life and soul. There has to be a reason for you to so." He clasps his hands behind his back and moves to pace around you.
"There's a pretty common saying among us Magi." You reply. "To be a Magus is to walk with death." You shift on your feet, just changing the your center of mass just so that he can't walk past you.
"I'm well aware." Kirei answers.
"Classical magecraft training?" You guess, "Hm. Tell me about your brother. You asked first, but, well, I own this place. Humour me."
"Shirou? We certainly weren't close. My actions could never compare with those of a living saint. He was perfect in all matters, but I'm grateful that he stepped away to give my father space for the both of us. "
"Is that all?" You ask, "A pity. Brother to a saint, but it makes sense .I was curious about him: a Servant reincarnated in a physical body with a plan to, what was it…"
"The Salvation of the World."
"A pretty lofty goal. Don't you think so too?" You gesture at Father Michael, who's seated on one of the benches listening in intently. He starts as you bring him into the conversation, "A-ah, yes. "
You turn back to Kirei. "What's yours, then?"
He fixes you with a glance. You can feel him wrestle internally. For all his years, more than twice your age, you don't quite feel the sense of sameness from him. Something's missing.
His wish.
Even as you think that, the atmosphere shifts. There's a sense of alacrity and danger in the air. It takes you a moment to realize you're sensing those through your bond with Lancer, and it in turn is observing Berserker.
Berserker, who has a spear in hand casually deflecting fiery bolts of light away.
Kirei rises to his feet, "Berserker is under attack."
"This is meant to be a neutral zone." Both of you turn to father Michel, who looks perplexed.
You shake him by the shoulder, "What're you going to do about it?" He's a good man, but he's not decisive. You've known that as long as you've known him. Now that he's facing a very real crisis, his inability to act fast is turning out to be a detriment.
While he's still sputtering, staring at the command seals on his arm, you…
[ ] Assist Kotomine and Berserker against their assailant.
[ ] Assist Berserker's assailant. It's nothing personal.
[ ] Stand by the sidelines. Just observe the battle for now.
[ ] Retreat for the moment. The absolute safest choice.
Actually, the Heroic Spirit in the Throne still experiences the wars, just second hand. For people like Cu and Gilgamesh, a war doesn't affect them much, but someone like Mordred who underwent lots of character development might still be summoned having some of the experiences from Apochrypha.
I recall hearing the analogy of 'reading a newspaper', but, hmm. That works out anyway.
