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fate-ad2021 · 7 years

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21. “Corruption of the Dream”

Session 21, June 11, 2017

Word count: 9,149

In-Game Dates: Saturday, June 19th, 2021 and Sunday, June 20th, 2021

In which the group confronts their final enemies.

I. Straight to the Top

When Val wanders out to the kitchen around 10AM, the rest of the group brings him up to speed, informing him of Reines’s call but not of her suggestion. Assassin also notes that she and Lancer had spent part of last night after they returned applying the “Grail-type” template to transform their stolen artifact into a suitable replacement. The only question that remains is how to get into the Vatican.

“Is there anyone that you can call?” Assassin asks Val. “You seem to know everyone!”

Val props his chin in his hand and wrinkles his nose in thought. “Most of my contacts are in the mage world and the normal world, not the religious world. The upper levels of the hidden Church are especially secretive… but I know who might be able to tell us.”

He pulls out his phone, dials Orsino, and sets the phone on the table on speaker.

“Hello?”

“I need a favor.” Before Orsino can answer, Val forages ahead: “Who’s the magic equivalent of the Pope?”

“…I beg your pardon?”

“The highest authority in the magical chain of command of the Vatican, except God? Who is it, and can I talk to them?”

“Ah,” Orsino stalls, then sighs, “that would be the Pope.”

“Great. Can I talk to him?”

“His Holiness is currently out of the country…”

“At least the Catholics won’t have to worry about getting a new one if the Vatican blows up!” Val cheeps as a badly-hidden aside.

“That is not very comforting, but I take your point and I see where you’re going with this. Give me half an hour and I’ll get you a name and number, if I can.”

True to his word, Orsino rings back a half hour later. “Here’s what I have. I can give you the name and phone number of the acting head of Executor Order. No promises on whether she will even listen to you, but I can put you in touch and let her know that you’ll be calling. Will that suffice?”

“That will do just fine. Thanks Orsino. Who is she?”

“Her name is Shura Reesen.” Orsino gives the number, which Val takes down diligently. “Give me a few moments to call her and make sure she knows you’re calling. And Valentin? This woman is over three hundred years old. Please don’t piss her off.”

Val whistles lowly. “I bet she looks great for her age.”

“Valentin.”

“Alright, alright! You call her, I’ll call Reines and see if there are any other options. We’re running out of time, here.”

Orsino agrees and hangs up. Val flashes the notepad to everyone else as he dials Reines. The notation of Reesen’s advanced age gives everyone pause, but Reines picks up before anyone can inquire.

Val’s question to Reines is the same as it was to Orsino: any knowledge of the highest person in the food chain of the hidden Church, or any way to contact them. When Reines hesitates to answer, Val huffs dramatically: “Look, I already have a name and I just want to know if you’ve got a better idea. Is there anyone higher than Shura Reesen who I can call?”

“Why on earth would you jump straight to Shura Reesen?” Reines demands. “Was my proposed plan so poorly received that you had to go straight to the most dangerous person in the Executor Order? And who gave you that name, anyway?”

“What proposed plan?”

The rest of the group exchanges a wide-eyed expression of regret behind Val’s back as Reines recaps her suggestion for Caster to taunt Black Knight into breaking the boundary field so that the rest of them can get in and get the Lance of Longinus to destroy the Grail.

To his credit, Val only listens silently, nodding along and humming noncommittally. When Reines is finished speaking, he replies, “I’d like to keep our options open. Do you have other ideas about who to call?”

On the other end of the line, Reines can be heard shuffling things around in her desk. “I have different options, but not better ones. I’ve got the numbers of Cardinals, but they don’t hold the same kind of power over this realm of things that Shura does. Go ahead and call her if you must, but a word of warning: Shura Reesen is not quite human nor altogether there. Please don’t piss her off.”

“I won’t!”

“Valentin, I mean it. I don’t owe her any more favors, so you must be careful. Come back in one piece.”

“Magnuson won’t forgive me if I die,” Val quips, not quite light enough to hide his unease.

“Magnuson will be the least of your worries if you die,” Reines snaps back, “I’ll throw you the most paltry funeral I can manage.”

Val laughs. “You wound me!” They say their goodbyes and hang up.

Val keeps his tone light as he asks Caster, “So, if you get stabbed with the magic-exploding spear, will you go back to the tree? Or will you just, I dunno, explode off into death?”

“We won’t find out,” Caster replies firmly.

The non-answer gives Val the confirmation that he needs: either way, that plan could prove fatal to his Servant. He takes a bracing breath and makes up his mind: he dials the number that Orsino gave him.

It rings twice before a woman’s voice answers: “How did you get this number?”

“Orsino Veronesi gave it to me.”

She hums. “You must be Valentin. Veronesi did warn me you were going to call. What do you want?”

“I would really prefer to talk in person…”

“And I would prefer not. I ask you a second time: what do you want?”

Val swallows his surprise and switches into business mode. “There is a Holy Grail War occurring in the city. The Grail is housed in the Vatican right now. Surely, given your position, you know about this.”

“I do. Rooting out false Grails is part of the Executor Order’s duties. We were aware of the ones in Japan, America, and several other locations.”

“Then surely you know about the one in Saint Peter’s Basilica.”

“It’s in the square,” she replies, “but good effort. You were off by a few hundred meters.”

Val accepts the correction without comment. “What you may not know is that over the course of the past week, this Grail item has been exposed to death magic, far too much to remain stable. In the words of the man who rigged it up, it’s going to cause an explosion on the scale of another Chernobyl. On Monday.” He pauses to let that sink in, then continues, “The good news is that we think we can disarm it. The bad news is that to do so, we need the abilities of people who are far beyond the magical norm—”

“You’re referring to the Servants.” Reesen’s interruption is not a question. “Does the church not already have one on our side who could take care of this problem?”

“You’re referring to Rider,” Val replies, “who we had considered, but who simply does not have the magical ability to pull off what needs to be done.”

Reesen is silent for a few minutes. The group looks around nervously. Just as Val is about to ask if she is still on the line, she asks, “Last time, Valentin: what do you want?”

Val steels himself and responds with more confidence than he feels: “Either take down the boundary field around the Vatican or set up an exception to let our Servants in.”

“Either of those would take longer than the time that we have.”

“Is there any way to bypass the red tape? This is kind of urgent! We’d be saving lives!”

“Even so, no one else would support the idea of taking down or rebuilding the Vatican’s entire boundary field. There is one thing, though: I can round up enough Executors to open a door through the field so that your Servants can get inside. Would that suffice?”

“Yes,” Val sighs, “and I like that idea better than our alternative of having the bad guy break down the wall for us. At least this way, we have a chance of getting inside before he gets there.”

Reesen is silent for another moment before heaving a sigh of her own. “Alright. When do you want this to happen?”

“Will you stay on the line while I convene with my allies?” When Reesen agrees, Val mutes the phone and turns to the group. “She can open the way for us, hopefully long enough to get our Servants through. When do we want this to happen?”

Everyone looks to Assassin. The priestess simply shrugs. “I’ve done all the preparatory work that can be done from out here. All that’s left is to go to the Grail and implement the rest of the plan. The sooner we can get this out of the way, the better.”

Val nods and unmutes the phone. “Shura? We’re ready to go as soon as you can clear the area of civilians. I don’t want to see what would happen to them in the middle of a Grail battle.”

“I have to be honest,” she replies, a hint of admiration in her voice, “I did not expect that level of commitment from a magus. I appreciate it. The middle of the night would probably be best; meet the team there at midnight tonight.”

“Will you be joining us?”

“I will not. Orsino will be in charge of the task force. They will try to hold the gate as long as they can. Send the key Servants in first.”

“We’ll make a queue.” Val breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Shura Reesen. We appreciate your help.”

“We’re all counting on you. Do not let my city burn.” Then the line goes dead.

Val calmly places the phone to the side, then slams his hands onto the table with a manic grin of victory. “Dammit, I can be charming!”

Assassin allows herself a bright, sincere smile as everyone else bursts into laughter. “Honest to gods, Val, I am very impressed.”

II. Final Hours

All that is left to do is plan, and wait. The group is still worried about the length of time that the Executors will be able to hold the way, so they spend some time discussing who should be first in. At minimum, they reason, Assassin and Caster need to go. Lancer would be helpful as well, with her knowledge of the disenchantment process. Jim argues that if Archer can get in, he should try to follow Lancer since his Noble Phantasm requires preparation to set up. Saber and Rider, they reason, should stay outside as guardians in case Black Knight shows up to the party.

Once that is settled, the group splits up to spend the rest of the afternoon in final preparations.

Assassin approaches Saber with an offer: since Galatine was destroyed in the death seal explosion, he is without a Noble Phantasm. She cannot fix that, but she explains that she would like to enchant the blade that he has been using to be sharper and more effective against a Servant’s defenses. To her surprise, he agrees readily. She borrows the sword and spends a few hours working enchantments into the blade. Saber’s smile is genuine when he thanks her.

Assassin shuffles her feet and insists, “You’re the most likely to be able to hurt him, and we need him hurt, so it’s a benefit to us all.” The knight accepts her statement of practicality with a nod, although his persistent smile shows that she has not dimmed his gratitude in the slightest.

As Assassin works on the sword and Jim runs around making sure everyone has everything they need, Val pulls up a map of the Vatican and surrounding area and enlists help from Dimitri and France to project it onto the table and finalize approach plans. While no one is looking, Caster vanishes into the basement to put the finishing touches on his final Noble Phantasm. The woman who emerges is of North African descent, tall and strong with the head of a lioness, and wielding a nondescript spear. (She ignores Val’s stage whisper about “furry jokes” with practiced ease that only Caster could possess.)

Dinnertime rolls around, and they all decide to order sushi for the last time. Lancer breaks out two bottles of wine to share around generously. After the meal, France and Dimitri vanish back into the makeshift basement. They emerge bearing the laptop, which they place on the coffee table, and their bags, which they set by the door.

“Looks like it’s time for us to part ways.” Dimitri’s air of nonchalance falls flat in the somber faces of his hosts. He puts on a smile nonetheless. “We’ve got a flight out at 10 tonight; plenty of time to get out of dodge before shit hits the fan.”

“Don’t say that!” Val moans. “You’ll jinx it!”

“Are you heading back home to the States?” Jim asks.

France shakes his head. “No, Reines insisted that we go to England. I guess she wants all her allies in one place in case things turn rotten here. Plus, we’re pretty sure to be safe there.”

Val nods. “And you swear you won’t share anything you found here, with anyone, ever?”

“We swear,” the two chorus. Dimitri adds, “We’ve already dealt with one Grail War; we don’t want it getting out how to make another. Especially if this is the result.”

“Well, be careful in airport security,” Jim warns, “Make sure Vol gets home safe.”

“Where is Vol?” Val asks suddenly. The rest of the group looks around in alarm, distressed at their own forgetfulness about the quiet maid.

Dimitri chuckles and pats his suitcase. “She’s alright. She’s currently in disguise as a leg brace, which I will don before I arrive at the airport.”

Siobhan gives voice to everyone’s thoughts: “That is… so weird.”

“By the way,” Caster asks as they head for the door, “How did that top bunk bed work out for you?”

France sputters as the others burst out laughing. After hugs and handshakes all around, the two step out to their taxi and out of the group’s lives.

All that is left is the matter of the laptop. Val suggests having Saber stab it to test out the new magic sword. While he and Caster begin to argue over the most efficient way to magically destroy the thing, Jim solves the problem for them: with a solid punch and a resounding crunch.

“Well, that was anti-climactic!” Val complains.

“Nonsense,” Assassin chides. “I’m given to understand that these things do not react well to microwaves. I would like to see such a thing before my time here is up.”

Lancer grins. “We’re destroying it anyway; no reason we can’t have some fun while we’re at it!”

Between Lancer’s runes, Caster’s spear, Saber’s sword, and the microwave, the group manages thoroughly destroy the laptop and all its dangerous contents.

The entire group piles into the living room to go over the plan one more time. They will meet Orsino at the main entrance and head through the opening in the barrier: Assassin first, then Caster, then Lancer, followed by Saber and Archer if they have time to get through. Otherwise, the Round Table knights will stand guard outside in case their enemy arrives.

“There’s no reason he should know that we’re going there,” Caster insists.

“Unless he has some plans for the Grail,” Assassin points out.

Val shrugs. “Either way, we should call Reines and update her.”

“It’s a little late to change anything…” Jim hedges.

Val grins. “Why do you think I waited so long?”

“Because you’re forgetful?”

“Hush.”

Reines picks up immediately. “I was wondering if you would call to tell me the plan, or if I had to hear it straight from Shura Reesen.”

“There’s no need to call her—”

“You don’t understand, Val,” Reines sighs, “Shura called me. Fairly immediately after she spoke to you, I’m sure.”

Val pauses. “I’m confused.”

Reines chuckles. “Shura figured that if mages were involved, it was probably because of someone here. Plus, we’re on good terms. How did you think I knew the Church was involved in the War in the first place? It was because Shura called me.”

“Oh,” Val replies, at a loss for words. “Well, that works out then. So you know we plan to get our Servants in and break things.”

“Yes.”

“Good. Well, uh, I guess the only other thing is that Dimitri and France are on their way to you, and… we did what I told you we would, with the laptop. It’s gone, dust, irrecoverable. Nobody will get their hands on those notes ever again. No more Grail Wars. Even if…” Even if we fail, he does not say.

When Reines replies, her voice is gentle. “Valentin, you’ll be fine. I have plane tickets for all of you. Well, for you three Masters, anyway.”

Val puts on a brave smile. “Don’t worry – we won’t make you get a refund on them!”

“You goddamn well better not. I will put your real full name on your headstone!”

“As long as you leave flowers on my grave, cheri, I will be happy.”

Assassin joins Siobhan and Lancer in putting her head in her hands.

III. The World Comes Tumbling Down

Around 11:30pm, the plan goes to hell.

It starts, as all unexpected changes of plan do, with a phone call: Orsino’s name illuminates Val’s smartphone screen.

“Confirming plans?” Siobhan suggests as Val answers.

The voice on the other end cuts off Val’s greeting. It is gravelly and two-toned, recognizable as Orsino’s vessel but not as his voice: “Valentin de Rosa, listen and listen well. If you would be a Hero to the People, get to the Vatican and get here now.”

Val stares at the phone for a scant few seconds before looking up at his allies, all on the edge of their seats. “Orsino’s in trouble. We gotta go.”

The next few moments are a blur as everyone grabs their gear. All of the Servants save for Assassin incorporealize; someone has to carry the replacement Grail, and the priestess decides that it should be her. She shoves it into a bag, and grabs her cloak while the others throw on their shoes and grab whatever they can use as weapons. Siobhan enchants Assassin’s and the Masters’ feet on the way out the door, and they’re all off and running.

A dozen men and women in black robe stand shoulder-to-shoulder at the east entrance to Saint Peter’s Square. In front of them stands Orsino – or, Val thinks, the thing wearing his face, turning his eyes into miniature suns. But Rider stands firm by his side, long hair tied back and armor gleaming even in the darkness.

That small group is all that stands between the Vatican and a nightmare.

The Black Knight sits astride a black horse, covered head-to-toe in void-black armor. Their helmet conceals everything about them: their features, expression, and demeanor are all unknown.

Jim, Val, and Siobhan skid to a halt, instinctively clumping together to obscure the enemy’s view of Assassin. Behind them, Assassin tries her best to make use of her Presence Concealment skill, gritting her teeth and praying for silence and stealth.

For one painful moment, no one moves. Then the nightmare’s helmet turns to look at the newcomers. Black Knight paused, then ever so slowly looks back toward the line of Executors. They appear to weigh their options for a long moment before bringing their horse around to face the group of Masters. They raise their hands and slowly remove their helmet.

Black Knight’s face is nearly identical to Mordred’s. Her hair is the same pale gold, her eyes are the same green, and all the curves and lines on her face are the same, but everything about her seems dulled and unnatural, like a desaturated photograph or a very old portrait.

Val hears a pained exhale from both Caster and Saber.

“Is that…?”

The reply is unanimous and full of dismay: “King Arthur.”

“Who are you?” The corrupted king demands. Her voice sounds more bored than angry.

Val sets his jaw and looks her in the unnerving eye. “We’re the cavalry, and we’ve arrived.”

“The cavalry.” Black Knight’s chuckle is a rumble beneath their feet. “The rescuers. No.” She shakes her head and turns the horse back toward the gate. “You are nothing more than intruders in this place. Interlopers.”

“Interlopers?” Val demands, annoyance transforming his fear into boldness. He steps forward. “No.”

Black Knight looks back at him. A hint of tension creases her brow.

“No,” Val repeats firmly. He takes another step. “This city is my home. I belong here. You’re the one who doesn’t.”

The smile she gives is cruel and unearthly. “Not yet.”

Beside Val, the tall lion-headed woman materializes. “Not ever. You come as a conqueror, like your people always do. Some of us are actually here to reclaim that which was ours.”

Black Knight’s gaze follows the woman’s pointing spear as she points toward the obelisk in the center of the plaza. The rest of the group seizes on the opportunity of the distraction to begin inching toward the gates.

“Are you gonna be okay fighting her?” Val asks Saber.

“This person may have once been Arthur, but she is not my king.” Saber’s firm reply gives his Master hope.

“Understood,” Val replies. A pause, a few more inches closer to the gate, and then, “Did you know she was a girl? That’s pretty cool.”

“Master, this is so far from the right time for this conversation.”

The moment of distraction is over too soon: Black Knight turns back to face lion-headed Caster. “You come to reclaim your monument, fine. I will leave it standing so that you may see it at your death.”

Terror freezes the group as the Knight nudges her steed, but instead of charging, she simply coaxes it to trot off to the side, allowing them a clear path to the gate.

“You may make the first move. It matters little in the end.”

Assassin wastes no time. With the Masters close at her heels, she dashes toward the gate, the sack with the cauldron slung over her shoulder. Caster follows them closely, with Lancer bringing up the rear while Archer and Saber hang back to engage Black Knight if necessary.

The thing wearing Orsino’s face turns to the group of Executors. Up close, Val and Jim can see that they are a mix of old and young, seasoned and nervous. They part with practiced ease and turn toward the barrier. The Masters step past it and turn to wait for the gate to be opened; behind them, Orsino raises his hand and places it against the air like a mime, a vague shimmer emanating from the boundary field.

“Ready?” the two-toned voice whispers. Murmured agreement meets it. “Pull.”

As one, the Executors reach for the empty air. For a moment, it looks like nothing has happened. Then the shimmering moves around their clenched hands, the barrier gathering like translucent fabric as they take up a low chant to control it. At Orsino’s signal, they begin to tug to either side of him, a coordinated pulling motion that stretches the fabric of the barrier. The casting Servants lean forward with fascination and even the Masters can feel the change.

When the barrier has been stretched nearly to breaking, Orsino passes the edge of his hand through it, cutting it neatly from his head height down to the ground.

“Go.”

The three Servants barrel through and make a break for the obelisk, Assassin in front and Lancer bringing up the rear.

As she nears the obelisk, Assassin can see a faint sickly glow from the base. Proximity to the high concentration of death magic makes her stomach churn. Carefully, she circles the obelisk until she finds the weakest point in the boundary field surrounding the Grail. She sets the bag on the ground and draws her ritual dagger. Murmuring a few words of prayer, she slices open the boundary field, breathing a sigh of relief that it splits easier than the Vatican’s.

The hole in the boundary field reveals a hollow in the base of the monument. In that hollow sits a heavy bronze cauldron. It bubbles with putrid yellow energy. Assassin closes her eyes briefly, dismayed at what has become of the Cauldron of Rebirth.

From her left, she hears Caster’s voice, “Can I assist?”

“Please,” Assassin motions toward the Grail. “We have to drain off this energy before the Grail can be moved.”

Both magi steel themselves and reach into the hollow with their magic. Such volatile energy proves easy to move and manipulate. Caster takes a moment to meditate and locate the path to the Tree. Then she lashes out at that path, draining the death magic from the Grail and sending it like fire down the line. A burning sensation grows in her spirit, but she holds fast: if this works, she might very well become free at last. For Assassin’s part, she begins to spin some of the death magic into her dagger; it will be a powerful backup weapon against the Black Knight in case the two of them have to fight.

Back at the gate, Orsino’s passenger stops Val with a hand to his shoulder.

“What would you have us do?” He motions to the Executors, who begin to release the barrier. “They will stay if you ask, but they will die if they do.”

Val has made up his mind. “Give them the choice. We’ve gotten what we need; they can stay and fight if they want, or they can get to safety.” He raises his voice slightly, addressing the Executors. “Black Knight will break through this barrier, no matter what. Stay if you want, but Orsino is right: you can’t stand against that thing. I don’t want there to be any more casualties in this War if we can help it.”

Of the dozen Executors there, six of them choose to leave. The other six – mostly the younger crop – decide to stay and provide whatever aid they can.

“But what can we do?” one of the young Executors asks.

Val thinks for a second, casting a glance to Caster as the Servants begin their work. “Do you know anything about the Lance of Longinus?”

The small group exchanges a confused glance, but Orsino nods. “I can take you to it.”

“I’m staying out here, but my Servant can help. Caster, can you send a familiar with Orsino?”

Caster absently waves a hand and a gnome-height creature of clay takes form from the ground. Orsino nods and motions to the Executors.

Seeing Rider’s hesitation, Val gulps hard and makes a decision. “Saber, Rider needs to go with Orsino. Can you…?” Distract that monster, he cannot say, get between us and not-your-king.

Saber needs no further encouragement. He manifests halfway between the gate and the enemy, arms crossed in a posture of defiance. As soon as Black Knight’s attention has turned to the white knight, Rider breaks his protective stance and follows Orsino toward the Vatican.

Val follows behind them. He joins Siobhan behind the obelisk where she is softly singing to build up inspiration and begins preparations of his own, laying down a shield that will hopefully help his allies. Jim and Lancer crouch off to the side, behind cover and ready for an ambush.

IV. Spear Shining at the End of the World

Outside the boundary field, Saber faces down Black Knight, the corrupted king. His raised chin and cool glare belie the tremor that Val can feel through their connection. Val sends him as much confidence as he can muster, and feels a tinge of gratitude as Saber addresses the final enemy.

“Do you claim to be the King Arthur?” The White Knight demands.

The Black Knight narrows her eyes. “I need to make no such claims. It is the truth.”

“Then why are you here? How have – No. What do you want?”

The horse stamps its hooves impatiently as its rider considers the question. Finally, she replies, “My kingdom was lost to me in life.” Saber cannot contain his flinch at that. The once-king continues, “I commend you for trying, Gawain, but you failed.” Her dead gaze catches his and she repeats, “You failed. Mordred betrayed me. Tristan left. Only Bedivere was with me until the end, and even he could not follow my orders.”

“This kingdom is not yours not claim,” Gawain insists, but the time for reasoning has passed.

Arthur reseats her helmet onto her head and extends her hands before her like a prayer. Gawain reaches for his own blade, but stop, transfixed, as swirling mana rises from the leylines and descends from the heavens to gather into the Black Knight’s grasp.

So strong is the burst of mana that it draws the attention of everyone in the square. It is a shining swirl full of stars and the essence of the world, and when it finally dims, it leaves a painfully bright spiked lance in its wake.

Without another word, Black Knight nudges her steed with her heels. Saber dives out of the way and Archer drops from the shadows to pull him further out of the path as the warhorse reaches a gallop. They watch in equal parts horror and fascination as the Black Knight lowers the Spear of the World’s End and finishes her charge.

“Rhongomyniad!”

The boundary field shatters.

The earth and sky shudder. The rip reverberates through the leylines and straight into the bones of everyone in the area. Maelstrom winds burst from the broken barrier and kick up a storm of dust and debris, threatening to knock them all off their feet.

And still Black Knight charges.

Saber and Archer spring into action, running as fast as they can toward the square now that the barrier is gone. They have no hope of reaching their Masters before the enemy does, but that does not stop them from trying.

Driven by desperation, Caster drains off the last of the overcharged mana from the Grail and makes one final strike at the connection to the tree. A streak of pain shoots through her, but she feels suddenly lighter than before, like she had been carrying a great chain and was finally able to drop it.

“Go, go, go!” she cries to Assassin. As the priestess moves in to grab the Cauldron, Caster gathers her legs beneath her and leaps straight up the side of the obelisk. She grabs hold of the globe and cross mounts atop it and clings for balance, surveying the area below.

Assassin dives in to the spot that Caster occupied, reaching into the base of the obelisk with a swift prayer for protection. The Grail does not burn her as she expected, so she grabs hold of it and tugs it free; its hefty weight surprises her. She sets it aside and swiftly seats the prepared replacement into the hollow, murmuring the enchantment necessary to begin tying it into the leylines. That started, Assassin grabs the Cauldron and bolts toward Siobhan and Val, hoping to get out of the way of the impending battle.

Black Knight charges on.

Val’s gaze darts around the square, looking for something, anything, that could impede that charge. His eyes light on one of the fountains. It is a great distance away from the enemy, but his spatial displacement magic can fix that: he extends both hands and twists the space around the fountain, carving it out of reality just long enough to reseat it several hundred meters away, in the path of the charging horse.

Lancer sees the unusual magical maneuver and seizes on the opportunity to improve the trap. Singing out her own ancient tongue, she flings glowing runes down over and around the newly placed obstacle.

Jim stands from behind his cover and fires a Finn Shot at the enemy to try to slow her down, but it simply splashes off her aura. From the corner of his eye, he sees Archer and Saber dash into the plaza and split off, Archer swinging up to a perch and Saber drawing his new blade to engage the enemy as soon as he can reach her.

Black Knight spurs her horse onward. They leap and clear the fountain neatly, sailing clear over Lancer’s runes and prompting a curse of indignation from her.

Finally the enemy draws her steed to a halt and calls up to Caster on the obelisk, “Do you think being up that high will protect you?” She then turns and addresses the group at large, “Do you think any of you are safe?!”

She flips her grip on Rhongomyniad and slams its jagged point into the concrete. Again, a terrible quake rips across the plaza. At the spot where the legendary weapon strikes the earth, a horrible tear in space appears, reality ripped like a curtain.

Caster and Assassin – and by the look on her face, Lancer too – recognize the rift as a portal, an incredibly unstable one at best. The energy emanating from it feels familiar too: it resonates in Assassin with the sense of home.

“The Reverse Side of the World,” she explains to Jim in a voice of wonder, “known by many more as the land of Faerie.”

But there is no more time to contemplate this, because Black Knight has one more trick up her sleeve. Before their eyes, black energy rises from her warhorse and her armor. Anything else that she may say is lost to the sound of the wind that whips the energy into a swirling black cloud around her body. As her form twists and shifts and grows, an unmistakable screeching roar echoes around Saint Peter’s Square.

And when the smoke and magic clears, the group finds themselves facing an enormous black dragon.

It screeches again, and the battle is met.

V. VS Vortigern Black Dragon

The dragon is massive. Its body fills most of the plaza, lashing tail and beating wings intimidating the party into staying split apart. Its impressive horned head is eye-level with the top of the monument, and it lets out another ear-splitting screech directly into Caster’s face.

That, apparently, does it.

“Listen well, foul beast!” Caster draws herself up, waving the spear wildly to get the dragon’s attention. “I will not allow yet another foolish conqueror to take away the artifacts that belong to me, to my people, and to my homeland!”

With that, Caster snaps the spear over her knee, releasing crimson energy from the weapon which flows into her body. With the increased strength of a Berserker-class Servant, she gives a roar of her own and flings herself onto the dragon’s head. She seizes onto its horns and begins spewing invectives at it, and the rest of the group realizes that this is their chance.

Assassin, who had been rooted to the spot in shock at the dragon’s appearance, comes to her senses and flees at top speed toward the Basilica, the former Grail in tow.

“What the fuck?!” Val wails to Saber, uncaring if he shouts it out loud. “How the fuck?!”

Saber skirts around the edge of the spiked tail’s range and dashes toward his Master. “Remember the story I told your Caster, of Vortigern and the dragon? Doubtless, that was where she learned this trick!”

As Saber dashes past her, Lancer springs from her cover to the fountain. Jim watches her make eye contact with Siobhan. Siobhan’s mouth drops open in disbelief, and she murmurs, “Are you kidding me?!”

Lancer just grins broadly, the expression of a warrior who has been given the chance of a lifetime. She sinks into a crouch and her red eyes track the lashing movement of the tail… then she springs. She catches onto the tail and uses its momentum to swing herself up onto the dragon’s back. Finding her footing with practiced ease, she dashes up its spine.

Once between its spiked shoulders, Lancer attacks: her purple-red mana envelopes her hands as she makes a spear-hand strike at the leathery wings. Her energy tears straight through them and gouts of blood pour forth. The dragon shrieks in pain and belches fire into the air. Great balls of fire falls from the sky, scorching the earth and sending everyone in the plaza scrambling.

But Lancer holds fast despite the thrashing and turns a manically delighted grin to Jim.

“Dragons still bleed!”

That is all the encouragement Jim needs. He cracks his knuckles and charges out of cover. The tail swings out in a wide arc to ward him off, but he easily slides underneath it and launches himself at the dragon’s back leg. A powerful punch to the knee joint causes the creature to swing its attention toward him, Caster hanging almost comically off its horns. Jim barely dodges a vicious kick and more fire breath as he scrambles to get behind the cover of the fountain.

“Archer!” Jim cries, “Can you set up Fail-Naught here?”

“It will take me some time!”

Jim glances back up at the enemy, currently preoccupied with Lancer and Caster both clinging to it and swinging away. “I think we’ve got you covered.”

Archer is off like a shot, darting around the arena to place the arrows that will serve as the boundaries of his Noble Phantasm’s range.

Jim catches sight of the Executors who have been alternating between trying to help and trying to hide. He grits his teeth. This is between us; they don’t need to be here. He shouts to them, “Get to the Basilica! We can handle this!”

They run.

Meanwhile, Saber has reached the front of the beast and takes a mighty swing at it. The enchanted blade from Assassin bites into the creature’s armored front legs. Jim can see blood spurt out; they are clearly able to do damage to the massive creature, even though doing so leads it to spit fire everywhere. Now they just need to survive.

“Hey!” Jim turns to see Val waving at him. “Wanna go on a side quest?”

“What?”

“There’s a good chance that if Black Knight is here, then Emil is too. And if we take the Master down, the Servant will go away.”

Jim ducks flying debris and more fire. “Are you actually advocating killing this guy?”

Val thinks for a moment, then shrugs. “I guess we’ll see what happens. I doubt he’ll be up for negotiation, but we sure can—look out!”

Jim turns just in time to register that he needs to move. The dragon’s furious tail swing turns into a glancing blow as Jim moves with it, tumbling across the ground.

“Jim!” Siobhan breaks into a run toward him.

“I’m okay!” He picks himself up, winces, and spits out dirt. “I really don’t think we should leave these guys out here with this thing!”

“You go,” Siobhan tells him, “I’ll stay and keep their strength up.”

Still Jim hesitates as the dragon’s front claws dig deep gouges into Saber’s armor. The White Knight stumbles back, shifting into a more defensive stance.

The creature shrieks again and violently swings its head, finally dislodging Caster from its horns.

“Caster!” Val yelps as his Servant goes flying.

Despite the Berserker form, Caster is still first and foremost a mage: where there is magic, there is a way. Caster twists catlike in midair and her feet find the inside of Val’s defensive magic shield, which serves as an excellent rebound surface to launch herself back at the dragon. She hisses furiously and clings again to the horns. The dragon’s low growl becomes another piercing roar as Caster’s clawed hands find its eyes.

Assassin, nearly out of range of the creature’s fiery breath, decides that this may be her only chance to use her death-magic-infused dagger. She sets the Cauldron down, draws the dagger, prays for accuracy, and flings it as hard as she can toward the beast.

The enchanted dagger finds its mark between the thing’s eyes. Assassin crows victory even as she dodges another round of fiery breath. Then she picks the Grail back up and heads for the safety of the Basilica, followed quickly by the batch of Executors.

Seeing Assassin safely away with the Grail, Jim catches the eyes of Val and Siobhan. They both nod: it is time to light the place up.

“Archer, hit it!”

The Minstrel Knight, perched on a column, brings his bow to bear and shouts out, “Gawain was right, Arthur: we may have followed you once, but you are no longer a king of mine!

Fail-Naught!”

The magic bolt is released, and the rain of arrows falls.

Lancer and Caster spring clear and shield themselves, but the dragon is Archer’s only target.

The creature’s back legs collapse under the assault. The front legs become little more than pincushions. In a final burst of power, Tristan lifts his voice in song, praising the lost glories of the Knights of the Round Table. The song is beautiful and sad, with verses reflecting his regret and the loss of the king; Jim can feel his sorrow even as he pours energy into the Phantasm.

And with that little extra push, the dragon’s void-black form collapses.

The energy that comprised the dragon’s body bleeds off it and dissolves the creature back into Black Knight’s form, dazed and wounded but still very much alive. Worse, the horrible energy flows toward the nearest escape: the rift that the spear had opened. As Black Knight begins to come to her senses, that rift starts to widen.

Jim reconsiders his earlier hesitation and decides that the Servants can probably handle this, and that the best course of action is to go find Emil and put an end to this.

But first, he thinks, there is something he has always wanted to do. He uses the last of Siobhan’s winged-shoe enchantment to clear the distance to Black Knight.

“Jim, what are you doing?!” Siobhan cries, even as the answer becomes obvious:

Jim draws back his fist and punches Black Knight hard enough to snap her helmet to the side. He retreats before she can retaliate and makes a run for the Basilica. As he passes by Siobhan, he grabs her hand and drags her along with him. “I’ve always wanted to punch English royalty in the face, and that was the best chance I was gonna get! Now let’s go!”

Behind the fleeing Masters, Lancer and Saber have taken the opportunity to engage Black Knight in close combat. Black Knight shakes off her confusion quickly enough to deflect attacks from both; she summons another spear and strikes out at Lancer, piercing her side.

Lancer grits her teeth and snarls, “Come on, King of Knights! Your son hit me harder than that!”

Black Knight snarls back and takes another swing, only to be blocked by Saber’s sword. The Masters enter the Basilica to the background noise of the battle continuing.

As Caster picks her way around the rubble left by the dragon, something terrible comes through her connection to the clay familiar. She sees snippets of visions inside the Basilica tunnels, less battle than slaughter: several Executors dead after strikes from the shadows, Orsino wounded but finally arriving at the artifact chamber, Orsino handing the Lance over to Rider and imploring him to take it outside to the group, Rider hesitating but ultimately obeying.

One thing is certain: Orsino and the Executors need help.

“Val,” Caster says as she retreats to a safe distance from the battle between the knights. “Be careful in there, but hurry: Emil is inside, trying to steal the Lance. Rider has it, but Orsino is in danger.”

“Are you okay out there?” comes his Master’s query.

“We’ll be fine. Just get to the priest!”

With that, Caster turns back to the task at hand. She drops the Berserker form and shifts back into his own old Merlin form, for the first time since he has been summoned. He glances over his shoulder at Assassin, who is kneeling with the Cauldron just outside the Basilica in the middle of a half-completed ritual circle. It will be some time before the Grail is fully decoupled from the leylines, and until then, the knights are the only thing keeping the enemy occupied.

That is, Caster thinks, until the Lance of Longinus gets out here.

As Lancer breaks off from the fight and tags Archer in so she can go help with the decoupling ritual, Caster lets his mind wander to the possibilities.

I couldn’t make Rhongomyniad on my own; it’s too powerful. But if the Lance is connected to it by concept…

Caster allows himself a triumphant smile. He reaches out to his workshop area in the safehouse and wills it to fade away. Then, sweeping his hands out in a circle around himself, he begins to lay the foundation of the workshop.

“Arthur Pendragon!” he calls out boldly, drawing the Black Knight’s attention from the knights. “If you have ever listened to me before, pay heed against to my council. This is not a fight that you can – or should – win!”

Black Knight shouts her outrage at the court mage’s sudden appearance and takes a step forward. The momentary distraction provides enough of an opening for Archer and Saber to strike, knocking her to the ground and stunning her.

As Caster continues to build his workshop, he feels a spark of something that might be hope.

They might just get out of this alive after all.

VI. Inside the Vatican

The Masters are about halfway to the chamber of the Lance of Longinus when they realize that Caster is concentrating on something else and can no longer afford the focus necessary to give them directions. They slow to a jog and begin to look around for clues. Scuff marks here, shouting down that way…

For a moment, the path looks too uncertain to continue. Then a clanking sound echoes down the hallway, a sound which proves to come from Rider’s armored feet pounding the tile floor. He bursts out a door, swinging his sword through the cloaked shadow creature pursuing him. Under one arm, he has an object wrapped up in his cloak.

Val calls out to the Servant as he blazes past. He skids to a halt and points to the door he came from, shouting a few directions before setting off again. Three more shadow creatures appear from the walls to follow him. The three Masters exchange a nod and take off running as quietly as they can, hoping that the cloaks will focus on Rider and not on them.

Following Rider’s directions proves easy – as easy as following the trail of Executors who have been left to the sides of the hallway. After the third time stopping to check for a pulse only to find yet another innocent dead, the Masters steel themselves and agree to move on and help with cleanup later.

The door to the chamber of the Lance stands slightly ajar. When the group peers inside, they see only Orsino, prowling around the closed box in the center of the room and glaring fitfully into the shadows.

Val clears his throat. “Orsino? Or… whatever you go by?”

The golden eyes snap up, blink, and Orsino motions the three of them into the room.

“Rider…?” Val asks.

Orsino shakes his head, a jerky motion. “Following my orders.” He nods toward the hallway. “Executors?”

“Not in good shape,” Val replies regretfully.

Orsino grunts. “Too bad. Good people. Never looked at him funny.”

“At… oh.” Siobhan gapes, seeing the golden eyes for their true nature for the first time.

“Where’s Emil?” Jim asks.

The demon huffs. “Enemy stalks the shadows. Appears, strikes, disappears.”

“Then we’ve got to get out of here!” Val exclaims.

Orsino hesitates, then jerks and hisses out a horrific gasp of pain. The three Masters jump at the enemy’s sudden arrival: with one arm across the priest’s throat and the other hand holding a knife buried in his kidney, Emil Nuada-Re Sophia-Ri makes his entrance.

“Let him go!” Jim steps forward, but stops at Orsino’s groan of pain.

Emil’s smile is so reminiscent of a snake that Val is surprised he does not show fangs. He looks to be perhaps 30 years of age, with the same perfectly-styled red hair that everyone in his family possesses. Val hates him before he even speaks.

When he speaks, he addresses Val. “So, you’re the brutes who Reines got to do her dirty work.”

“Brutes?” Val echoes. “Excuse you. You’re the one who got a couple of incompetent goons to summon Berserker. Did you know who he was, by the way?”

Emil chuckles. “My incompetent goons, as you call them, did exactly what I needed them to do. Plus, they gave me the chance to get a good look at the other Servants on the field.”

Val recalls the report from Assassin and Caster about the Faery that tried to have Petri and Jordan killed, and grits his teeth. “Right,” is all he says. Beside him, Jim and Siobhan are still frozen in uncertainty. Emil has the upper hand – the only thing they can do for now is let him talk.

“I know you took my beautiful Berserker out; I won’t let you do the same thing to my Black Knight. Even now, they’re still holding strong against your allies. The only question is, what do I do with you?”

Orsino gasps again as Emil twists the knife in his side. Jim catches hold of Siobhan’s hand, turning his own to conceal the glow of his Command Seals.

“Archer… I might need your help in a minute…” Jim thinks to his Servant. Aloud, he asks, “So what do you want with the Grail anyway? We figured it out for everyone else, but you? What are you in this for?”

Emil hums noncommittally. “The Vatican is a very powerful thing to have a bargaining chip. The Church is a nuisance – Vasilyevich had that much right. But to destroy this place? Oh, to destroy this place would be a waste of a wonderful opportunity. Why destroy the Vatican when you could use it instead? It’s such a nice place of power, right here at the heart of all the leylines in Rome! Do you have any idea how rare that is?”

“Uh huh,” Val says, “but you know this place is going supernova in a little bit, right?”

“Please,” Emil snorts, “I know you’re up to something. Goody-goodies like you would never allow something that terrible to happen. You must have some plan up your sleeve.”

“Archer?” Jim asks.

“Saber has Black Knight under control,” comes the response, “Call whenever you’re ready.”

Jim focuses on the Command Seals and wills the second one to disappear. “Come on in!”

There is a sharp pain in his hand and a flash concealed by his closeness to Siobhan. With a snap of mana, Archer appears on the opposite side of the pedestal, behind Emil. He already has an arrow nocked, the tip coming to rest just behind the enemy’s ear. Emil freezes as he realizes the danger he is suddenly in.

Val cheerfully quips, “Now you see our point.”

Emil huffs in what might be a chuckle. “Clever. Truly.”

Jim shakes his head. “The minute you do anything other than let him go, that arrow flies.”

Emil hums again. “You said that you had everyone else besides me figured out. I suppose it’s time I admitted the same dilemma. I could discern everyone’s motives but yours. So, what is it that you want out of all of this?”

“Fewer civilian casualties,” Val tells him. Jim and Siobhan nod. Whatever other motives they had in joining the War, that became their collective goal from the time they first learned about the Death Seals.

Emil rolls his eyes. “Typical.”

He yanks his dagger out of Orsino’s kidney and shoves him toward them. Siobhan and Jim catch the priest and lower him carefully to the floor. Jim keeps an eye on Emil while Siobhan kneels to begin her healing magic on Orsino. From his grim expression, the likelihood of success is worryingly low.

Emil sighs and mutters, “This is working out a little less smoothly than I expected it to.”

“I ruined Vasilyevich’s plan,” Jim boasts, “I can ruin yours too.” Privately, he checks in with Assassin, “How long until that thing is done?”

Assassin’s response is strained. “A little bit more time. But Jim – if we deactivate the Grail, all the Servants might disappear. You know that, right?”

Jim grits his teeth. “That’s a risk we’ll have to take. If that happens, then at least Emil will lose both his weapon and his bargaining chip.”

“I just don’t understand,” Emil is saying, “why you care about this wretched city at all, when you can have the whole rest of the world?”

“Call my city wretched again…” Val warns.

Emil scoffs. “Please, child. Servant or no, you can’t touch me. I have very powerful friends, and they wouldn’t like it if anything were to happen to me.”

Val scoffs in return. “Do you even have friends that you don’t make?”

At this, Emil snarls and snaps his fingers. Several shadows detach themselves from the walls and lunge at the group, enormous clawed hands outstretched.

Val summons a sword and strikes out at the nearest one to him while Jim focuses his mana into his fists and takes a swing at another.

As the group explodes into motion to defend themselves, Emil ducks under Archer’s arrow and makes a break for the door.

Orsino raises a shaky hand at him and hisses something unearthly. Fire shoots from his fingers and catches the fleeing mage off guard, distracting him long enough for Archer to vault over the pedestal and grab his ridiculous cravat.

“You’re not going anywhere,” the Servant snaps.

And as the fight with the cloaked shadows continues, Rider reaches the front doors of the Vatican. He bursts out, throwing the last of the shadow creatures off him as he charges across the square.

“Magus!” Rider shouts.

Caster turns, his workshop nearly complete. Beyond him, Black Knight and Saber are locked in single combat. The nightmare knight’s wounds seem to be healing themselves in the absence of constant onslaught.

“Catch!” Rider tosses the wrapped object to Caster, who deftly catches it out of the air. “Good luck!”

With that, the Mounted Knight summons his horse and whirls back toward the Vatican to go to his Master’s aid.

#session log post

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