La Chanson de France - Fate/Broken Europa

[Omicron]

Alright, solid win for Patay, let's get this show on the road.

 

[Theaxofwar]

[X] Toulon. As a young Napoleon first earned fame by utilizing artillery to seize the enemy's own fortifications and compel surrender, take the enemy's most valuable yet vulnerable asset. Have Saber engage the Red Man in direct combat as a ruse, drawing him away from Sophia, that you might then launch a surprise assault and capture her, forcing her to surrender.

I'm sorry but we can't use tactics of the nobility or the king. At least Napoleon was on the side of the revolution at the start.

Edit: just missed the vote. Awkward.

 

[hugh_donnetono]

Honestly I'm pretty sure we're currently being manipulated by the red guy's noble phantasm and every option is a trap, so it's fine.

 

[Omicron]

*checks current wordcount against past updates*

I see we were holding steady at a comfortable mid-3k words per update since the revival, not too long, not too short, but then I started writing a fight scene and it's now breaking 4k.

I'm just a stereotype of myself at this point

 

[Omicron]

XVIII. It's Our House Now

Les Halles.​

The orthodox approach to a fight against an opponent with unknown capabilities is caution. Stay on the defensive, study your enemy's moves, and use the Science of the Mind to analyze their magic until you find their weak point.

In this case, however, you're willing to bet that this is exactly what the British team is counting on. You've already fallen victim to a highly-subtle illusion working, and you've been led to the terrain they chose, where they expect you to stay lest your fight reach a public place in the middle of the day. Your first priority should be to take the fight out of their control, and to keep them too occupied with immediate survival to set up any greater working.

You exchange a look with Saber, and she nods. Without the need to actively broadcast your thoughts, she understood your strategic assessment, and agrees with it. That level of intuitive perception - it almost scares you.

You turn to the British duo, staring down at you from their contemptuous height, and stretch your right arm to the side. In your mind you draw the blade of light, and in your flesh the implanted circuits ignite with blue light, shining through your black jacket.

"I accept your challenge," you say simply.

Behind you, the tall bearded giant steps forward, and says:

"As Ruler of this War, I sanctify this challenge."

Sophia grins, and opens her mouth to give an order.

Then there's a sound, low and droning, like a distant horn, and reality quivers. The air itself trembles as a wave of magic washes over you - and for a moment it is as if the world's colors were inverted, a photo negative, before that effect passes and the world once again looks like itself… Only slightly off, a degree paler than it should be.

Sophia's grin falters. "What the hell?"

"Welcome," you say, "to the Phantom World."

Then Saber attacks.

You were thinking - perhaps naively - of doing this as a combined assault, you and Saber doing a pincer attack on the Man in Red, combining her raw power with your ability to unravel magical constructs to cripple him before Sophia could intervene. That's because you never saw Saber go full-bore against another Servant before. Her fight against Lancer left your sight too quickly.

Saber leaps into the air and the backdraft - the blast of air generated by the air displacement of her movement alone - nearly knocks you off your feet. She clears the entire flight of stairs in a single bound, Sophia lets out a squeal of fright, and it's all the Man in Red can do to bring up his rapier in time to parry the spear-thrust aimed at his face. The impact of their weapons reverberates across the entire tunnel and sends Sophia tumbling off the rail, blue dress billowing as she stumbles backwards into the upper tunnel, clasping her fancy hat to her head to keep it from being blown off. You dash in pursuit, physical enhancement burning in your legs as you run up the railing, but the second clash of sword and spear already has the Servants ten meters away into the tunnel; by the time you turn the corner of the stairs they're already gone.

But Sophia's still there. Your eyes meet, and she freezes.

A wave of ice erupts under your feet, propelling you forward, and the English heiress lets out a curse, turning around and racing after the Servants, you hot on her feet.

***​

Sword and spear clash again and again, a whirlwind in motion, deflected blows scraping the tiled walls, raising great clouds of concrete dust with every motion. Saber is on the move, a relentless force whose advance cannot be stopped, merely avoided; her spear thrusts again and again, so fast it's a blur, each blow a clear statement: dodge this, or die. The Man in Red seems unbothered; he cedes right of way, darting back with every advance, his rapier (not steel; its blade seems almost to be made of shining ice, or crystal) dances back and forth, left and right, batting away Saber's spear just enough to allow him to dodge under each blow. He turns, whirls, dances with every blow, smiling all the while; but though he seems as impossible to strike as the air itself, he must concede Saber's advance, backing away and upwards through the subway station.

"You're truly a force of nature, Saber!" he exclaims cheerfully. "Yet is it not strange, for one of such a Class, to be fighting with a spear?"

"I don't know," Saber answers, sweeping the air in an arcing blow of the spear's haft, which her foe avoids by ducking down underneath, "is it not strange for a Servant to challenge another to a fight without even stating their class?"

"You're right," the man says grinning, backing up another flight of stairs, "how about you call me…"

He blinks out of existence, wind blowing as he crosses from Saber's front to her unshielded right flank too fast to see, and time seems to slow to a crawl as his glittering sword stretches towards her head.

"...Fencer?"

Eyes wide, gritted teeth, Saber pivots, a move that takes up a fraction of a second but seems an eternity, bringing her shield up and leaning down - and by a hair's breadth she manages to act in time, striking the rapier with the edge of her shield and knocking it away. She steps into 'Fencer''s open guard, and in the second before the point of her spear connects with his chest he vanishes again, reappearing upstairs; Saber's spear strikes the wall where he stood with full force, an impact like a pack of explosives, carving a man-sized crater through the concrete, rubble erupting on the other side.

"Well, that would have hurt," the man in red says - and darts back again as the Gaul kicks off after him again, white hair billowing in the wind of her own motion, eyes gleaming with focus.

"There's no such Class," she says as he slides around her thrust like water.

"There isn't, but you have to call me something, don't you?"

They're cresting the top of the stairs, and he's backing away but he's the one with higher ground; as Saber overstretches herself in another missing blow, he moves along the length of the spear and brings up his sword…

And Saber having successfully trained him to focus entirely on the point of her spear, slams the edge of her shield into his chest.

A strangled sound emerges out of Fencer's mouth as the breath is knocked out of him, and he goes flying up, tossed away like a bramble in the wind, emerging out of the subway level and into the near-open air. Hovering there, for an instant - a twitch of his eyes, a curl of his lips; as gravity takes hold he rights himself in mid-air, lands lightly on one foot that kicks off, he pirouettes twice back, clearing a large distance from the open mouth of the subway.

Saber is coming.

***​

"Fencer," Sophia Archleonore is angrily screaming, "come back here this instant!"

She's bouncing away through the tunnels - each of her heels is adorned with a pair of butterfly wings, and she seems nearly weightless, moving in great bounds and barely touching the ground.

Running away.

"There's no such Class!" you say, a wave of ice propelling you to the top of a staircase and hurling an icy javelin at Sophia's back. The heiress snaps her eyes to you, and out of her jeweled necklace bolt two blue streaks, moving through the air in jagged sharp-angled paths; one of them strikes your javelin across its length, shattering it into shards of ice, and the other darts for your face. You greet it with a dagger-strike, and feel your blow connect with something hard, physical, shattering your icy construct, but the projectile is still knocked off-course, staggering erratically through the air. A humanoid shape about ten centimeters in length, woven out of black wire and brambles, wielding a sewing-needle for a sword and with a dull carved gemstone for a head, shards of stained glass floating at its back, serving as wings.

A fairy.

"There isn't, but I have to call him something, don't I!" Sophia exclaims, thrusting her palm outwards and sending another fairy out of its jeweled cage.

You close your fist, conjuring a six-pointed snowflake prison around the stunned fairy; it clatters to the ground, draining the magical energy from the spirit's constructed body - unless it can break out, it will, depending on the manner of its summoning, either die of mana drain or simply have its physical form unraveled and its true self sent back to its otherworldy realm. Either way, no longer a problem for you.

You nail one of the remaining fairies with a thrown ice-knife, sending it spiraling down into the tunnel you just left; the other one dodges the next projectile and comes at you from the side, darting with its needle-sword. You brace on your knees, and just as it reaches you pounce forward five meters, and the moment you land, conjure a wave of ice to engulf the flight of stairs below and the fairy with it.

You immediately take off running, Sophia shouting imprecations from above as she weaves her way between the rubble of the Servants' fight, trying not to get her dress snagged on a sharp rock. Your lungs are hot with exertion, your scar-line sore from how much ice magic you've been conjuring in quick succession, but your integration is holding steady at 82%, so you could do this a while.

Then Sophia emerges above ground, and quickly after so do you, and the two of you pause for a moment to stare at the sky.

You're not truly "above" ground, Les Halles being built into the ground, but you are in the open air; the "roof" of the mall center is actually a series of long, wave-like glass panels, arranged in a lattice, through which one can see the sky. Around you are dozens of shopping establishment providing anything from groceries to clothes to music albums, all of them disquietingly empty, all of them strange, the colors off, the doors open on blowing wind, the lights flickering. A ghost world, as if all of its people had gone.

And above you, the sky. It's not the grey-strewn blue of an afternoon in Paris. It's not night. It's not black. It's the color of no color, stygian blue, blue darker than black, the brain's grasp slipping as it tries to process it. It is an impossible sky.

"...love what you've done with the place," Sophia says sarcastically.

"Thanks," you reply deadpan, "we just moved in."

The aristocrats gives you a patronizing smile."Do your friends often tell you that you're hilarious?"

"I'm their boss and I can fire all of them, so they find me the funniest person in the world."

"Well, at least you're self-aware," she says with a shrug.

Somehow - somehow - she did manage to avoid getting her dress torn up or even so much as dirtied during your entire chase; one of her fairies emerge out of the subway level and alights on her shoulder, staring at you with its disturbing gem-face.

There's the sound of fighting, in one for the stores whose front has been completely ravaged. But following your Servants into a tight closed space is probably not the wisest course of action.

You glare at Sophia. Your first thought is to continue what you were doing and resume fighting her, essentially conducting two separate, simultaneous battles. But you're reconsidering that. Defeating Sophia would by extension defeat her Servant, but victory is too much of a gamble here. Instead, observing the fight to gather information may be more valuable here, especially if you can get her talking.

You see her eyes scrutinize you, and can tell that she's coming to the same conclusion as you are. The both of you take several steps back, putting each other at a safer distance and watch as your Servants emerge out of the ruined store.

***​

A giggle escapes the lips of the Man in Red. He straightens up, rubbing his aching ribs, but none feel broken. He adjusts his feathered hat, and watches Saber emerge from the subway, long white hair trailing behind her like a gown.

"...a false reality," he comments idly, looking around at the empty stores and empty sky. "Clever." He turns back to the Gaul as she approaches. "You're good," he says, making a sharp cut at the air in front of him, then to the side. "But as strong as you are. As hardy and resilient." He smiles, white teeth like a row of pearls, and the air around him starts blowing in a whirlwind, red light dancing around his body. "I am much faster, and more skilled."

Saber pauses for a second. She looks at him, thoughtful.

Then, for the first time since the beginning of the fight, she smiles.

"You are faster than me," she says. "The question is: by how much?"

Fencer's smile falters. A moment's hesitation.

The ground splits under the Gaul's feet. She lunges forward and the concrete floor explodes under her boot, fist-sized chunks of rubble blowing out into the air. Fencer's eyes go wide and he barely manages to bring up his sword, hilt forward in a block, before the broad side of Saber's shield slams into him and drags him across half the central plaza of Les Halles. The living projectile that Saber has become carves a furrow in the ground and drags a trail of dust-smoke behind her, and Fencer's back hits the glass wall of an H&M. Her momentum expended, Saber comes to a stop, and Fencer goes flying through a rack of shirts, rolling on the ground and pushing himself up, panting, shaking his head, instinctively making sure his hat is secure before getting up.

Saber is already there, spear held up, and brings down its deadly fang onto Fencer. Through gritted teeth he blinks again, gone too fast to track, five meters away as Saber's spear pierces the ground. She tears it out, sending broken ceramic tiles everywhere, and dashes after him. Spear and sword meet again, tearing through dozens of items of cheap fast-fashion retail clothing, sending torn cotton and denim everywhere. And in the midst of this high-speed clash, Saber is smiling, while Fencer once again must withdraw step by step - no longer dashing across vast distances, as he focuses on his footing to deflect every blow of Saber's spear, eyes flicking between the blade and the shield as he tries to keep track of the wooden implement that already struck him twice.

"You're slightly faster than I am," Saber says, "whereas I have you outclassed in every other way. Face it, 'Fencer': I'm better than you."

"What you are," the Man in Red says, "is getting cocky."

A light shines at the point of his glittering sword, then runs down its crystalline edge, and again time seems to stretch - his sword drawing slow, elegant arc through the air as he deflects each blow coming his way, and the trail of light lingers, drawing an intricate arabesque through the air as his deflections seem to grow effortless, and Saber's eyes follow that trail of light, try to keep track of the blade as it moves sinuously in a dance of light, and…

She sees it just in time. She's following a false edge, a translucent duplicate of Fencer's blade and arm tracing out of his body, and his true sword, untouched by light, is coming for her throat. She pulls back instinctively, drawing her great shield before her body, and the blade strikes the wood with a resonant thwack - and bounces off into the air.

Fencer freezes, seeming stunned his ploy didn't work, and his guard is wide open. A window of opportunity, no longer than half a second, opens before Saber - she seizes it. She thrusts her spear.

It goes clean through Fencer's body, the man's mouth opening on a stunned gasp - blood spills from his lips. He stares at Saber's face, dumbstruck. Unable to believe it could end so suddenly, so swiftly. She, herself, is shocked at the abruptness of it.

She hears it in her mind.

The voice of the nurse from so long ago.

To your left.

She doesn't question the voice. She never has, in all her life. She turns to the left while ducking down - and the rapier's point passes through her white hair as it follows, where her throat had been an instant before. The speared Fencer collapses - and fades into motes of light that reveal the ordinary white mannequin she just impaled.

She steps back, wrenching her spear free, frantically dodging the next blow of the rapier; the Man in Red is stepping forward, advancing against her for the first time, focused, hungry, eyes filled with manic glee. As Saber blocks blow after blow with her shield, moving the iron-hemmed wooden board into a series of blocks against the dancing blade, he denies her time enough to make use of her spear again and he does so reciting.

"Ho, for a rime!..." he declaims, grandiose. "You are white as whey—
"You break, you cower, you cringe, you ... crawl!"

The audacity of it, the sheer outrage of being labeled a coward by this fleeing fool who only just barely managed to claim the upper hand through illusion magic, is such that Saber lets out a roar of anger and moves into his next blow; her shield pushes the rapier away and she brings up her spear with deadly speed.

In her blind rage, she did not see him grab a coat off a rack; and when she steps into her thrust he tosses the mantle at her face, blinding her, sending her point astray just far enough that he can actually slip his rapier into her guard and swat the wooden haft aside.

"Tac!—and I parry your last essay:
So may the turn of the hand forestall
Life with its honey, death with its gall;
So may the turn of my fancy roam
Free, for a time, till the rimes recall,
Then, as I end the refrain, thrust home!"

Saber grunts, stepping back and tearing the coat off her face, then throwing a half-blind blow, just to keep him from pressuring her further. But he blinks backwards, leaving her to hit nothing, and from three meters away lunges into an impossible flêche, body sprawling forward as all of his speed and reach go into driving his sword-point at Saber's breast.

Again, she draws her shield before her. Again, the sword strikes its painted wooden face. But this time, it breaks through. The shining blade pierces the wood - grazes the arm holding it - and strikes Saber's chest.

Only to fail, its strength wasted away by the shield, against the rippling mail shirt.

With a grunt of effort, Saber puts all her strength into jerking her shield to the side - a gasp escapes Fencer's lips as the sword is wrenched from his grasp. With a triumphant shout she swings her spear in an arc at him.

She hasn't recovered from her momentum enough. The blow is too slow. Fencer jumps - and his feet touch the haft, pushing off again into the air, and there he soars over Saber's open face.

His legs kick out, sharp, straight blows, pumping like a shotgun, and hit her both times in the side of her face. Each kick would have taken a mortal man's head straight off his shoulders. Against Saber, they manage to knock her head back an inch each and rattle her teeth. That is not what matters. What matters is that the recoil of hitting her sends Fencer into a somersault during which his hands find the hilt of his sword and tear it out of the shield; he lands on the ground sword in hand, immediately bouncing off to put some distance back between Saber and him.

The Gaul does not move immediately. She slowly straightens, rubbing her cheek where the first kick landed, and makes a dubious expression.

"Alright," Fencer says, panting slightly. "Let's hear it. 'That was a weak kick'? 'Getting tired'? What's your next biting quip?"

Saber frowns.

"Your speed is inconsistent."

Fencer blinks, his expected line of arguing derailed. The white-haired giant stares at him, eyes narrowed, and adds:

"You're using magical enhancement to hide that you don't have the base level of physical prowess a Servant should possess."

A silence falls, so still one could hear a fly drop dead.

"Well," Fencer said, bemused, and then a different kind of smile appears on his lips, a smile with a knife's edge. "Well, well."

Blink.

The man vanishes in a blast of air and at this point Saber is used to it, she knows to watch her flanks, to sense the raising of her at her back, and -

The nurse's voice, scared.

He's everywhere.

She doesn't understand.

Then Fencer appears on all four sides of her, identical copies of the man and his red hat lunging all at once, and she only has a split second to react.

She takes a guess.

Her shield blocks one of the rapiers. She hurls her spear at a second, skewering him through. Both burst into motes of light. A third one strikes her open back, and the blow is nothing and the duplicate is gone.

The fourth Fencer, the one who struck from the front, stabs through the front of her maille.

The world comes to a standstill.

Blood trickles down the Gaul's silvery dress. A drop runs down the length of Fencer's water-like sword, crimson reflections rippling down its crystal length.

It's running from Saber's palm, where she caught the blade after dropping her spear in a desperate move. Behind the mail shirt, the tip of the sword has but pierced the skin.

"Oh," Fencer says flatly.

Then Saber slams the edge of her shield into his face, knocking down three rows of lingerie from the backblow of the blast, and Fencer goes flying out of the H&M store, hitting through a row of display mannequins and sending a clutter of white plastic limbs falling everywhere.

***​

'Fencer' is first out, rolling across the concrete plaza like a human tumbleweed, finally coming to a sliding stop on his feet - you see blood on his rapier, and for a moment you're afraid.

You hear his voice - barely above a whisper - and strain to make out what he's murmuring to himself.

"Death blazes bright above the cup,
And clear above the crown;
But in that dream of battle
We seem to tread it down."

Saber comes out soaring, five meters up in the air, and though she clutches her spear's haft with bloody finger there is no sign of another injury on her; white hair fans out behind her as she peaks in the air, her eyes shining terribly, and she falls on the crimson-clad man like a boulder. He barely manages to get out of the way - you see his lip is split open, blood trickling down his chin - and they move into another clash of weapons, a hurricane of steel moving across the plaza.

"Looks like your boy's losing," you say.

"She summons Saber and she acts like she has any merit for her advantage," Sophia scoffs.

There's another sound behind you - you turn, and Ruler emerges in a leap from the subway station, landing with grace a short distance behind the two of you. He's carrying Lola on his shoulder, something made a little awkward by the fact that she is not herself a short woman; you wonder if you could travel in such a way with Saber.

"So," the German Magus says, looking in awe at the chaotic battle ahead - and, you think, perhaps with a little yearning - "this is a fight between Servants. No wonder it's considered hopeless for a Master who has lost theirs to continue the War."

"The power wielded by these heroes," Ruler says sternly, "is why the Grail will always select an overseer to rein in the devastation they might otherwise cause."

"I'll admit," Sophia says, "this trick of yours, this Reality Marble, what you call the 'Phantom World' - it's clever. Going into this fight, I could not have anticipated you would be able to take the fight above ground."

You smile, a little smugly if you're honest.

Three glass windows blow outwards as Saber and Fencer rampage through a bank, before Fencer comes leaping backwards into the air, holding an entire office desk which he hurls at the pursuing Saber, the Gaul smashing it to smithereens without slowing down.

Of course, taking the fight up here is not an unalloyed good. Right now, you're pretty sure the only reason Fencer is still alive is because the open space allows him full room to maneuver and dodge Saber's attacks. But it's a small price to pay to avoid whatever tricks he and Sophia had prepared for you in the tunnels, as well as to allow Saber to leverage her own strength and speed in full.

Then - Fencer disappears out of the way of a coming thrust, and splits into three versions of himself as he reappears; Saber appears used to this technique by now, and merely ducks behind her shield, not bothering to try guessing which of the duplicates is the real one when she can block all three attacks at once; Fencer clicks his tongue in frustration as his sword bounces off and the two fake selves scatter into light.

You cast out your Voice, trying to send it into Fencer, to better be able to keep track of his real self behind these illusions… And all you get, once more, is this uncomfortable mental static.

This bothers you far more than anything else about this fight.

"Enough of this!" Sophia says suddenly, "sail forth, archers!"

Two more fairies streak out of her necklace jewels, but these one wield no needle-blades; they have bows made out of brambles, and they fire a rain of arrows made of light at Saber.

You see the Servant's head turn slightly, assessing the threat for only a split second before returning to her assault against Fencer; the arrows scatter uselessly against her mail, defeated by her magic resistance.

But it gives you a window to act, in which Sophia is too busy with her useless attack to backstab you when you take your eyes off her; the instant you see her fairies appear you're already conjuring icy javelins, and as the arrows fail you hurl one at Fencer.

The Man in Red sees it coming, and with a disdainful tsk slashes it out of the air with ease - and then the one after that, and then the third, all in the blink of an eye, but it's just enough time for you to brace yourself and stomp the ground, a shockwave of icy spikes erupting towards him; and he has to actually dodge it, bouncing backwards out of its way.

Which is all the time Saber needed to ready another, even mightier throw of her spear. She cries out, her arm bulging with earth-shaking strength and uncoiling like a snake, hurling her spear too fast for you to track, a bolt of power obliterating your conjured spikes of ice and reaching Fencer behind it, and the impact is like a detonation, a blast that cracks the ground and blinds you with light and raised dust.

The spear flies back to Saber's hand, and out of the dust cloud Fencer comes sliding across the ground, gasping, clutching his right shoulder, until he comes to a stop, hunched over, his sword-hand laid on the ground to support himself.

"Fencer!" Sophia exclaims, hands on her mouth, looking horrified.

He's bleeding. His right shoulder has been torn open by the spear - whatever dodge or parry he managed prevented the blow from taking his entire arm off, but this is no light wound. Blood runs down his chest, and…

You're not sure what you're looking at, but his skin around the wound, where his red jacket has been torn to shred, is sick with bruise-like veins stretching out of the wound. You look at Saber's spear - a cursed weapon? She never told you anything about this.

"Well," the Man in Red said with a strained smile, sweat dotting his brow, "looks like the game is up."

"The touch of iron," Saber whispers.

"What a stupid weakness to have, in a contest between heroes of old," he says in a sarcastic tone, pushing up to his feet - his grip on his sword is still firm, but he doesn't stop clutching his wounded shoulder.

He's a fae. Of course he is. The Archleonore, true to their tricks. But you've never heard of a fairy this powerful in the modern day - have they summoned a heroic spirit which also happened to be a fae, or is the man you're staring at truly no Servant at all, despite his ability to stand up to Saber for so long?

Master, comes her voice in your mind, surprising you; it sounds wary. Can you visually confirm whether the British Master has Command Seals?

You glance at Sophia Archleonore, who is watching the scene with her hands close to her mouth in an expression of great concern. Between her dress and her gloves, she is showing very little skin.

Sorry, but no.

That's fine, comes the reply.

"You must know this fight is over," Saber says out loud. "You were barely keeping up before, and now your sword-arm is injured."

"And here I was hoping for a clean victory," Fencer says with a weary sigh.

Something about that phrasing strikes you as odd - and Saber, too. She narrows her eyes.

"That you thought you could win, that is unsurprising, or you wouldn't be fighting this War in the first place. But a 'clean victory'? In a stand-up fight with a Saber-class Servant? Are you that arrogant?"

"It was a simple plan, really," the Man in Red says, shaking his head. "We corner you in a tight environment that benefits a defensive style. We play up the mystery to make you worry about our abilities. We introduce organic incentives for you to fight in a slow, safe, defensive manner, so the fight drags on long enough for my power to assert itself."

You see it in Saber's eyes. The way her posture tenses up and her attention shifts, wariness rising, gauging the distance between her and Fencer, assessing the viability of an attack, anticipating something and trying to decide whether to cut him off with an immediate assault.

You're having the exact same reaction right now. And Fencer sees it. His smile widens.

"Fencer," Sophia Archleonore says, and now her voice is calm, but the deadly calm of still waters. "Do you need us to withdraw?"

"No," he says, "I'm starting to be able to track the point of view shifts."

A beat.

"...what?" is all Saber can say.

And his eyes glimmer.

"Let me show you."

"Hi there."

***​

"Still can't reach her," Richard says, some concern now creeping into his voice.

"Maybe she's too busy catching up with her ex," Marc says from the couch where he is busy browsing Wikipedia while comparing it to what intelligence the Cult has gathered about the various suspected Masters. "Hey, did you know 'Maharal' was the nickname of the dude who created the Golem?"

"What, really?" Richard says, surprised. "Kind of a big tell."

"Yeah, and 'Jadwiga is the name of the first Queen of Poland - excuse me, 'King of Poland,' they used the male title."

"...isn't it also just a common Polish name?" Richard asks, sending another text message to Mads.

"Granted, yeah. These names could be a smokescreen, or our duo might just not be bothered overmuch with hiding their identities. I could definitely see a dude this tall and big actually being the Golem."

"Yeah, but…" Richard says, and his voice trails off. "Look, this is fascinating, but I'm worried about Mads. She's not responding either to calls or texts, and she went to a meeting with a foreign Master accompanied only by Saber. Don't you think we should be worried about her safety?"

"Yeah," Marc says, then pauses and turns to Richard. "Why don't you just call the German mages' embassy?"

"Huh. Don't know why I didn't think of that," Richard says, and opens his professional contact list - but, as his finger hovers over the button, he frowns.

"It's weird."

"What is?" Marc asks distractedly while reading through the wiki entry for Jadwiga of Poland.

"I don't know. This conversation. It feels odd."

"Weird how?" Marc asks, curious now. He can feel the faint tingling of Richard's Voice expanding, prodding the environment.

"Like it's just… happening at a weird time."

"Huh," Marc says.

After a moment, Richard shrugs.

"Probably just hypervigilance from the war."

"Probably," Marc agrees, and returns to Wikipedia.

***​

Silence and stillness.

Breaths held in stunned stupor. A panting voice.

The trickling of blood, drop by drop falling to the ground.

"...how?" comes a voice filled with confusion.

Torn maille in two spots. Saber holds her hand against her gut. There, and above the left breast, silver links stained silver. Her eyes stare forward in shock.

The Man in Red smiles, and flicks his sword to the side, the blood flying off in a trail, and raises the rapier again in a salute.

You stare in horror.

Instinctively you cast your Voice into Saber, awareness of her body imprinting in your mind, feeling sympathetic pain lancing your torso in two spots. The wounds aren't shallow, but neither are they disabling; Piercing weapons like a rapier are best at dealing with a protective garment like chainmail, but neither is the armor worthless against them, and Saber's own body is incredibly resilient. She can keep fighting. It's just…

Those wounds shouldn't have happened in the first place.

"How," Saber says again, growling this time, a statement of anger more than a question. "

"You saw it happen, didn't you?" the Man in Red says with a grin. He's still bleeding; there's a stiffness to the way he moves his sword even now. "You saw every move and made your own. What about it doesn't make sense to you?"

"Everything," she grunts. Her spear is stuck in the ground near her; she raises a free hand to her face, staring at the blood as if she couldn't believe its presence. "You're not that fast. Especially not with this injury."

"What," he chuckles, "you weren't paying attention to the cut?"

It's not right. That exchange you just witnessed - it didn't make sense.

It's fine. Isn't it?

He suffered a crippling injury and Saber merely flesh wounds, when she already had the upper hand before this. He's showboating, but whatever magic he's using - you know he has illusory powers; was that what he just used to bypass Saber's defenses? - can't cross the enormous gap that exists between Saber and him.

Can it?

What if he's not Sophia's Servant? Does she have another one in reserve, or is she faking this whole thing? But then why take part in the War at all?

You have to make a decision.

Pick one:
[ ] Withdraw. The Phantom World makes it difficult, but retreat is still possible; at this stage you still hurt the enemy more than you were hurt and acquired valuable intelligence.
[ ] Keep pushing. Whatever 'Fencer' has been doing in his fight, he said himself he needs time. Keep pushing as hard as possible before the situation gets worse, and he'll crumble.
[X] Shift to caution. You don't know what's happening here, and unknown factors are a threat. Order Saber to take a more defensive approach and try to discern what the Man in Red is doing.

"Oops. Sorry about that. Here, let me give you another:"​

Something goes wrong. Pick one:

[ ] Reveal Saber's true name.
[ ] Spend a Command Seal.
[ ] One of you suffers a serious injury.
-[ ] Saber.
-[ ] Mademoiselle.

 

[Shadowhisker]

"Fencer," Sophia Archleonore says, and now her voice is calm, but the deadly calm of still waters. "Do you need us to withdraw?"

"No," he says, "I'm starting to be able to track the point of view shifts."

A beat.

"...what?" is all Saber can say.

And his eyes glimmer.

"Let me show you."

"Hi there."

***​

Click to shrink...

...Omicron, you motherf-

He can do fourth wall fuckery. How and why.

 

[UrsaTempest]

Fourth wall, hm.

I suppose I'll just won't vote for this round.

 

[Omegahugger]

Then Saber slams the edge of her shield into his face, knocking down three rows of lingerie from the backblow of the blast, and Fencer goes flying out of the H&M store, hitting through a row of display mannequins and sending a clutter of white plastic limbs falling everywhere.

Click to shrink...

I may have no idea who he is, but I suspect that this isn't the first time Fencer has been blown out a window in an explosion of lingerie.

He just strikes me as the type.

 

[hugh_donnetono]

Fourth wall, hm.

I suppose I'll just won't vote for this round.

Click to shrink...

...Huh. There's an idea. If nobody votes for anything this round, does Mads come through, unrestricted by our influence (which is in turn being restricted by the Red Man)? Or does she freeze up in a moment of uncertainty, resulting in something even worse than the presented options happening? Hmmmmm...

 

[7th Hex]

Hmm 4th wall fuckery. What happens if just nobody votes for anything? Will he pick one for us too?

 

[TheLurker]

...Huh. There's an idea. If nobody votes for anything this round, does Mads come through, unrestricted by our influence (which is in turn being restricted by the Red Man)? Or does she freeze up in a moment of uncertainty, resulting in something even worse than the presented options happening? Hmmmmm...

Click to shrink...

I mean im willing to try it but it needs total unity that I'm not certain we're capable of pulling off

 

[hugh_donnetono]

There is also always the possibility that Red Guy counts as a voter, so if we do that he'll just choose whichever one he likes best...

 

[Omegahugger]

While "Not voting" is the definition of a cool if impractical plan, it probably won't help us here.

We're not voting if something goes wrong or not. We're already losing something in this exchange, we're just choosing what.

 

[TopHatWearer]

I suppose I'll just won't vote for this round.

Click to shrink...

That's an interesting idea. What would happen if no one votes?

 

[Redshirt Army]

That's an interesting idea. What would happen if no one votes?

Click to shrink...

I'm game to give this a shot.

 

[TopHatWearer]

We're not voting if something goes wrong or not. We're already losing something in this exchange, we're just choosing what.

Click to shrink...

It depends on if he can vote or not as well. If he can then he gets to choose what goes wrong, if he can't vote then maybe nothing happens to us? Bit of a risk if he can though.

[ ] Reveal Saber's true name.
[ ] Spend a Command Seal.
[ ] One of you suffers a serious injury.
-[ ] Saber.
-[ ] Mademoiselle.

Click to shrink...

Which of these are the least bad? I suppose the least bad would be losing a command seal in my opinion. The worst would be one of us receiving a serious injury.

 

[hugh_donnetono]

...Actually.

[X] Keep pushing. Whatever 'Fencer' has been doing in his fight, he said himself he needs time. Keep pushing as hard as possible before the situation gets worse, and he'll crumble.

Because c'mon. He may have chosen the option that would be obviously worst for us, but who says he gets to choose, hm? We outnumber him! And he may be able to screw with the narrative, but he's not the main character. Mads is.

 

[Robotninja]

[X] Keep pushing. Whatever 'Fencer' has been doing in his fight, he said himself he needs time. Keep pushing as hard as possible before the situation gets worse, and he'll crumble.

 

[7th Hex]

It depends on if he can vote or not as well. If he can then he gets to choose what goes wrong if he can't then maybe nothing happens to us? Big risk if he can though.

Click to shrink...

That just means we have to find some way of out numbering him without casting a vote of substance.

Hmm what would a non-vote of no substance look like anyway. Just the two empty brackets with a space between them and nothing after?

 

[Who?]

I imagine that his NP - and this almost certainly is - is not literally fourth wall manipulation or the like, but rather leaning on the fourth wall is intended as representation of a very weird reality manipulation ability. Otherwise, he would presumably already know Saber's identity. ...Though it is not explicitly mentioned in this update

[X] Spend a Command Seal.

"It was a simple plan, really," the Man in Red says, shaking his head. "We corner you in a tight environment that benefits a defensive style. We play up the mystery to make you worry about our abilities. We introduce organic incentives for you to fight in a slow, safe, defensive manner, so the fight drags on long enough for my power to assert itself."

Click to shrink...

By implication, this is an ability that requires set up and time. Fencer has limited ability to harm or defeat Saber in actual fight, but his NP allows him to overcome this. It also needs people to act in certain ways - preferably, ones that give Fencer more time.

Using a Command Seal is implicitly an aggressive action, assuming that Mads uses it that way and not to retreat. Plus, while it is an expenditure of a limited resource, it does not put us at a long-term disadvantage in the way revealing Sabers True Name would be, or set us up for a death spiral the same way injuries might.

 

[Ezrin]

That is such horseshit.

 

[Omegahugger]

That is such horseshit.

Click to shrink...

Servants by definition are.

 

[cheesyme]

[X] Keep pushing. Whatever 'Fencer' has been doing in his fight, he said himself he needs time. Keep pushing as hard as possible before the situation gets worse, and he'll crumble.

 

[TopHatWearer]

That just means we have to find some way of out numbering him without casting a vote of substance.

Hmm what would a non-vote of no substance look like anyway. Just the two empty brackets with a space between them and nothing after?

Click to shrink...

Everything has an equal number of votes? Although that may cause everything to happen. How about a write-in?

...Actually.

[X] Keep pushing. Whatever 'Fencer' has been doing in his fight, he said himself he needs time. Keep pushing as hard as possible before the situation gets worse, and he'll crumble.

Because c'mon. He may have chosen the option that would be obviously worst for us, but who says he gets to choose, hm? We outnumber him! And he may be able to screw with the narrative, but he's not the main character. Mads is.

Click to shrink...

...You know this might work too, I'm willing to try it at least. You never know what's going to happen when fourth wall fuckery is going on.

[X] Keep pushing. Whatever 'Fencer' has been doing in his fight, he said himself he needs time. Keep pushing as hard as possible before the situation gets worse, and he'll crumble.

Edit:
And if that doesn't work

[X] Spend a Command Seal.

 

[Yaga]

[X] Spend a Command Seal.

Meta-voting to beat Fencer's meta-power feels like cheating. Best to cut our losses.