Chapter 4: Stolen Blessings

-:- The 4th Night -:-

The Westminster Abbey was a house of worship; not an actual house. Within its tall gothic walls there were no kitchen or living quarters to speak of. Even the room Ruler settled into was merely a study Elijah Malbrook had remodeled for her. Domesticity was not meant to be a function of any church.

Which made it all the more surprising when the Father escorted Ruler to the bath chamber.

Sitting within the underground alcove was a bathtub, petals littered over its sudsy waters. The chamber itself seemed antique, but it had been well maintained since its construction by, amazingly, Henry III: The famous English King who constructed the present-day Westminster Abbey. Ruler couldn't help but speculate about what other hidden additions Henry of Winchester had built?

"Use it as you like, maiden," Eli said cordially before heading back upstairs.

Bathing regularly was something Ruler required due to possessing a vessel rather than borrowing a spiritual one granted by the Grail. Having a body made of actual flesh came with complications that other Servants weren't forced to deal with. Though they were mostly just basic needs like eating to ward off hunger and sleeping routinely.

These problems were more akin to inconveniences than they were actual dilemmas. No, what truly bothered Ruler was the fact that the Ruler of the Black Grail likely shared none of these issues with her. From their first and only meeting, she could discern as much.

And besides...

"Ahh..." Ruler sighed as she settled into the water.

It was the most relaxing she had been in days.

Since the moment she possessed Leticia's body, pursuing the Grail had been her only goal in mind. Thanks to the influence of her [Revelation] skill, convincing Leticia's family that the Lord had bequested her with a mission was simple. As was obtaining a plane flight to London.

It was only when she located the Lesser Grail that complications arose.

|||~I~|||

It was a manor which belonged to the Banistor clan, reputed to have been built in the eleventh century, before Ruler's time or the beginning to the Hundred Years War. The bounded fields that surrounded it were of a unique breed - more physical than any others Ruler had ever seen. Ordinary bounded fields warded off unwanted company and guarded against magic, the ones in front of her were more akin to invisible walls. Normally, careful application would be required to bring such an array of fields down, but there was no time for carefulness.

Fidelity was nothing the Maid of Orléans could squander her time on, not with the Grail itself on the line. Just like when she when she was crusading in the Hundred Years War, Ruler charged at the manor, her famous flag [Luminosité Eternelle] held in front like a jousting lance.

Any bounded field surrounding the manor was torn through like wet paper. Ruler could only imagine how many alarms she had set off. Acknowledging this, she vaulted to the manor's highest floor, smashing through the window.

Rolling to a stop, her first thought was 'The Grail is here...'

It was through her [Revelation] that she was guided to London. Once inside the British metropolis she could distinguish the Grail's location through her status as a Ruler alone. Now that she inside the building it had been stowed, she knew exactly which floor it sat and how many meters were between it and her.

Exiting the room Ruler expected an ambush. Imagine her surprise upon entering an empty hallway. Considering how many layers of bounded fields she had torn through during her entrance, she expected something at the very least.

Understandably suspicious of the manor's forbearance, she continued to the room at the end of the wing where she detected the Lesser Grail. The door was unlocked, and Ruler's suspicions grew. She was unsure of who she was invading, but it was impossible that the one who had acquired the Lesser Grail would have such lax security.

And yet... There wasn't a single soul she could sense within her ambience. With a distance of roughly six miles, Ruler was capable of detecting her surroundings. So far as she could discern, she was an empty home. The Grail being her only company.

"..."

Her wariness at its peak, Ruler opened the door to what could only be a trophy room. Mounted on the walls were the heads of numerous Magical Beasts - phantasmal creatures that were birth by the myths and imagination of the human race. When the Age of Gods met its end, the belief humans once held for these creatures deteriorated like it also had for many polytheistic religions, and they went into hiding; gradually dissipating from the world. Chimera, hydras, minotaurs - the list of beasts in the room varied greatly. It must have been a hobby or trade for the Banistor clan.

Honestly, Ruler was indifferent. Only one trophy in that room garnered her attention, and it was golden chalice she was been looking for - the Lesser Grail. It sat behind a wall of glass like a actual trophy would.

How fortunate that there was no lock for the glass. Too fortunate. At this point, had drawn the line between miracles and obvious traps. Before she could proceed, however, a stranger revealed themselves.

"A rat trying to steal the goblet of Christ? What has the world come to?" they said from the shadows.

Ruler was quick to react. The room was too enclosed for her to use her flag, making her reach for her sword. Apparently, the anonymous one behind Ruler came to the same conclusion and planted their hand over Ruler's.

'What?!' The sword stayed in its sheathe.

Before she could make use of her other hand, the stranger once again beat her to the punch - gripping the backside of the standard-bearer's head, then slamming it into the glass. Shattered pieces littered at their feet like snowflakes. Ruler had yet to bleed, but her ambusher sought to change that.

Throwing her back-first into a bookshelf, various text showered over her and Ruler's assailant followed suit with their fists. They may as well have wore holsters on their hands instead of gauntlets, for each punch they threw was akin to a magnum shot at point-blank.

For their fists to be so strong, her attacker could only be Servant. And a vicious one at that. But why couldn't she sense them before? If they were hiding in this room, Ruler should have detected them even if they were an Assassin.

"Uggh-!" Her neck was snatched, and Ruler's attacker hauled her up as though she was weightless.

Thrown by her neck to the other side of the room, she arrived at the opposite wall with a "Thoom!", prompting the heads of countless magical beasts to rain over her. Before she could even gain footing, her attacker's boot was planted in her chest.

"Gaagh-!"

She could feel her chest caving in from that one stomp. Even the floorboard underneath Ruler cracked.

"For a rat, you're actually quite tough. Breaking you might prove to be a challenge."

Such ferocity... Such cruelty... The room being so dark, Ruler couldn't make out their face properly, making her unable to discern their class and identity.

Was she facing a Berserker? No. A warrior of madness wouldn't be this articulate or have been able to conceal themselves.

Still bewildered, Ruler gagged for air.

"W-who are you?"

The assailant freed Ruler's chest from the oppression of their boot, but only to smash it into her face. Repeatedly.

"You! Dare! Call! Yourself! A Ruler!" they barked in-between stomps.

The trouncing was brought to a halt when Ruler grabbed their heel. The floor beneath her was on the verge of caving in under her.

'No more...' she thought.

Whatever their class was it did not matter. A Servant was still a Servant, and she was Ruler: A Servant granted special privileges the others didn't possess. The most impressive of which being her Command Seals.

Still holding onto her attacker's heel, Ruler raised her other hand. "Servant... I command you to take your own life!"

Silence occupied room. Only briefly, however. Once the quiet sunk in, the anonymous Servant freed their foot and struck Ruler's head with it. She couldn't tell whether it was the blow or the fact that her Command Seal had been completely ineffective that shook her more.

Reeling her up by the collar, Ruler's assailant glared right into her eyes.

"Words cannot describe how much a disgrace you are... Are you so grotty that you've forgotten that your Command Seals are worthless against another Ruler?"

It was revelation even she could not have foresaw, simply due to it being impossible. Two Rulers shouldn't be summoned at the same time. They couldn't have. The Grail just wouldn't allow it. But how else would Ruler explain her Command Seal being resisted so effortlessly? Even a Servant with highest [Magic Resistance] would have been affected.

And yet...

"Why... Why do you exist?" Ruler asked.

The other Ruler sneered with animosity.

"You weren't even aware of the presence of another Grail. Are you trying to make sick now?

She tried to struggle in their grasp, but it was wasted effort. They were stronger. They were in control. They held Ruler's life in their hands.

"Listen very closely, failure. A Ruler is more than just a standard-bearer. We guide the Grail just as much as it guides us, and as such should be aware of its every intention." The unknown Ruler placed a hand on Joan of Arc's chest. "A disgrace like you who doesn't even know this... You don't deserve the blessings the Grail has given you."

The hand on Ruler's chest began to smolder.

Black.

Not rot or decay, but darkness itself seethed from their hand.

Evil.

Essence that no Ruler class Servant should have been in possession of. Like oil polluting the Gulf, it seeped through Jeanne's clothes and then into her skin.

It burned... Not her skin itself, but Jeanne's insides - they were on fire. If the pyre that consumed her at the end of her life took her flesh, the "evil" that was defiling her innards threatened to take her will. Had either her willpower or [Magic Resistance] been too fragile, she would have completely lost herself. Both virtues stood strong, however. And that was exactly what the other Ruler had hoped.

They didn't want Jeanne to give in, to be altered into a form separate from her true self. No, taking the gifts the Lesser Grail had bestowed her were more than enough to satisfy them.

"Aaaaaagh-!" It felt like her back was being scolded with molten rock.

Her Command Seals - they were vanishing. She could feel them disappearing. Or, more accurately, being seared off. The highest privilege a Ruler could possess was taken from her just like that. With the deed done, the anonymous Ruler released their counterpart from their grasp. After dropping to the floor, she glared up at the thief who stole [God's Resolution] from her, their indignant eyes glowering right back at her.

Biting her lip, she came to the sad conclusion 'I cannot beat this person...'

Running away was Ruler's only option.

Reaching for her sword again she lashed out her assailant, causing them to back off at last. Rushing to the busted trophy case, she procured the Lesser Grail and vaulted out a window before her rival could give chase. She only glanced back once to see the other Ruler's dark figure in the window's frame. They were showing no interest in chasing her, of which Jeanne was both confused and grateful for.

Sprinting across the plains behind the Banistors' manor, the River Thames - the longest throughout the entirety of England - came into view. Following it would guide Ruler back to the city. But, of course, her pursuers would not make things so easy for her.

"Whish!" was the sound the blade arching toward the back of Ruler's head made. The sparks born from her parry scattered like fireflies. Still recovering from her earlier thrashing, she barely deflected it in time. With the Lesser Grail in one hand, Ruler could - once again - only afford to use her sword.

Though, whom she was wielding it against nearly caused her to lose her grip.

"...Gilles?"

Impossible. It couldn't be him. He wouldn't have been summoned.

And yet, there he was.

Without a doubt, the attacker who tried to cleave through her head was Gilles de Rais. She would never forget his face. Everything, from the armor he wore to the sword her bore mirrored his regalia during the Hundred Years War. Everything except the way he would smile at her.

"Gilles... Why are you... Ggh-!"

Before a full sentence left her lips, Gilles lashed at her again, barely giving Ruler time to defend. A tremor ran down her blade and journeyed through her arm. It was a nostalgic feeling. One Ruler remembered well, as she had been on the receiving end of similiar strokes during her lifetime.

In-between battles Gilles would take her task, personally training her on how to use the sword. Joan of Arc was never known for engaging in combat; rather she rode with the infantry weaponless, keeping her flag as high as she could, and doing the same for her troops' morale.

But that was not enough, according to Gilles.

"Man or woman, warrior or standard-bearer; every soldier on the battlefield must know the skills of arms," he once told her.

He was strict when it came to training, tyrannical even; forcing Ruler to spar until her arms could no longer bear the weight of her sword. During one session, the sun descended then rose again. Gilles was completely unreasonable, but Ruler never forsook being his student for that short time. Though the chance to put his teachings to use never reared itself, she held her hard earned skills dear.

That those same skills be put to use against her teacher was something she never expected... or wanted.

"Nnnh-!"

Tatters of Ruler's battle dress flew as Gilles' sword bounced off her own. He was faster. From how each of his strikes was forcing her to retreat, he was stronger as well. The gap between them should not have been this wide. Regardless of his status as a Saber, as a Ruler-class Servant her strength should have been roughly the equivalent of his own. And through the power of [Revelation] her sword was guided by God.

Though, in the end her style was still distinguished by her own form - the form Gilles himself had taught her. This was what formed the chasm between the two. As their blades danced, filling the air around them with sparks, Gilles was simultaneously reverse-engineering Ruler's swordsmanship. With every parry his blade would slash faster; each consecutive slice cutting deeper than the last.

Still, if it was all but a difference in skill - if that was the only advantage Gilles held over her - Ruler could still surmount the challenge. But that was not all...

'Gilles, why is he... Why can't he recognize me...?'

Ruler's mind was in just as intense a battle as as her body; and losing just as decisively. There was no person in this world, short of her family, who would recognize Jeanne better than he - the Marshal of France. Yet he brought down his sword with a fury one would only spare for their nemesis. Even throughout all their training, Ruler had never seen so much disgust in his eyes.

Why was he treating her like the enemy?

"Ha... G-Gilles... Please, listen to me..." Ruler pleaded, her sword hand on her bleeding hip.

The Grail dangled from her fingers, seeming ready to drop at any moment - much like the rest of her. Countless cuts were bestrewn across her body, but the silver knight before her stayed flawless, not even a scratch was made on his plated armor.

"I am impressed, witch. That you mimicked Jeanne's form so perfectly is proof of how dedicated you are to this farce."

"Farce..? This isn't a farce! I'm not pretending to be Jeanne! I am- Unh-!"

Jeanne crumpled to one knee, hugging the Grail to her chest to prevent herself from dropping it. She was reaching her limit - physically and mentally. It was a perfect opportunity for the Gilles. Another well-placed strike and she would be completely disabled, if not already on her way to the next life.

He raised his sword, its edge destined for Ruler's neck, but he faltered. A key moment, one he likely wouldn't be given once more, but her image wasn't one he could so easily cut down. It was at times like this he would always lower his sword. While Jeanne was exhausted like a beaten workhorse, unable to even raise her sword, Gilles would lower his own and offer her his hand.

Ruler's eyes widened when Gilles did so.

"Gilles, you..."

Take it. This was her first impulse; what her heart told her to do...but she knew she couldn't. Surprisingly enough, the first person to regain themselves was Ruler. With a startling strike Gilles barely guarded himself from, she sprinted away.

"Tch!" Cursing his gullibility, Gilles gave chase.

A final slash was delivered to Ruler's back just as she hurled herself into the River Thames.

"Gaaah-!" Ruler screamed before disappearing beneath the waters with a "Splash!"

For a full minute, Gilles watched the river carefully, waiting for the witch to reveal herself again. Blood was all that surfaced. This meant two things: Ruler had drowned or, less likely, she had survived and floated along with river's current. Either way, the Grail was lost to Gilles. This would displease his Master and her master.

With a "Hmph." Gilles vanished into golden specks.

Nearly two hundred meters down the river, Ruler finally resurfaced. She was severely wounded, and all she could manage to do was keep the Grail in her grasp as she floated with the current. It was a miracle she was not dead.

And an even greater one that Shirou Emiya saved her.

|||~I~|||

Ruler nestled into the bathwater until her head was the only thing to go unsubmerged, letting the warmth ease her thoughts. Idmund Versailles had set the bait and she took it like the gullible trout she was, losing many of her privileges as a Ruler including her presence detection skill and [God's Resolution], and almost her - and Laeticia's - life. She may have gained the Lesser Grail, but it have been tampered with. Had she not met Shirou it would have meant the end.

Technically, it still did. The Grail was still not properly functioning, and Shirou himself told her he couldn't support another Servant.

Ruler sighed.

"We need to summon more Servants soon..."

"Are you still saying that? Didn't I already tell you that I'm enough by himself?"

From where Ruler heard the disembodied voice originate, a mass of golden specks materialized into the Knight of Treachery - Mordred.

"Saber! Why are you-" Ruler suddenly put on a bewildered expression. "...taking off your clothes?"

Just as Ruler said, the Disgrace of Camelot was stripping herself right in front of the bath.

"What? Do you expect me to bathe with my clothes on? Now, move over."

Without letting her get in a word edgewise, Mordred dip down into the opposite side of the bath, causing water to spill over the edges. The tub suddenly became cramped with Mordred's legs overlapping with Ruler's. The former didn't mind the lack of space one bit. The latter certainly had her complaints, but her annoyance was overwritten by how surprised she was at the softness of Mordred's skin. As rough as she was, Ruler expected her to be more... coarse.

"Mmmh... The temperature is nice. Much better than the baths I took when I was alive," Mordred mewled.

"You took baths often, Saber?"

Mordred shot the Maid of Orléans a look.

"Oy. Just what are you insinuating, Ruler? Do you take me for some mutt who lets fleas fester about him for months on end? I'll have you know I washed myself daily when I was alive, just as Mother instructed me to. She threatened to lock me outside otherwise. Those who behave like mutts, sleep with them was a favorite saying of her's."

"But you have a spiritual body now. Once you dematerialize, everything except for your wounds will return to their natural state."

"True enough, but I've grown tired of staying in my spiritual state all day. This gives my skin a chance to breathe again. Fools me into thinking I'm alive."

Mordred truly was a restless soul. She despised staying in her spiritual form so much that she would stay materialized all throughout the day, even while idling about the garden. The toll this was putting onto Shirou, and whether Mordred cared or not, Ruler had no idea.

Scrubbing her arm, Mordred casually asked a question that made Ruler jump a bit.

"How many Servants has Idmund Versailles already summoned, Ruler?"

"...I don't know."

"What? Aren't Ruler's supposed to be aware of this sort of thing? Are you some sort of hack?"

The accusation brought a frown to the standard-bearer's face, and a hit to her esteem. She shook her head.

"Not too long ago, the Ruler of the Black Grail and I fought. It ended with me losing several of my abilities as a Ruler class Servant, one of which being my intrinsic knowledge of how many participants are currently in the war. Though, if I had to guess... He's likely already summoned seven."

"So the Army of the Black Grail has been amassed, has it? Perfect! Just what I was hoping!"

In her enthusiasm, Mordred splashed nearly a bucket's amount of water into Ruler's face. What a terrible bathmate the Knight of Treachery made.

"Saber... this is serious. While I don't doubt you are the most powerful participant in this war, you're still only one woma..." A sharp glance from Mordred made Ruler consider her next words carefully. "...You are only one person. Fighting seven Heroic Spirits by yourself is too absurd to even consider."

"Have your memories of the night of my summoning magically vanished, Ruler? I could have taken three other Sabers using the opposite end of my sword."

"You would never lose to Gilles to a duel, yes; but when six others of equal strength join in wit-"

"Enough!" More bathwater splashed from the tub as with Mordred's exclamation. "How many times must I tell you? With your Lord as our witness, I will dominate this war on own. All seven Servants will fall by sword, and so will the Black Grail!"

Her vigor almost seemed to cause turbulence in the tub by itself. This went beyond simple zeal, Mordred was participating in this conflict with a vendetta in mind - something she wanted to prove. Just what had lit her up so much? Did it have anything to do with her talk with Shirou?

Ruler expected the knight to storm out, but she sat back in tub instead, bemusing the maiden.

"Uh... you aren't getting out?"

"Of course not. I haven't even gotten behind my ears yet."

"Ah. I see. Well then..."

Ruler stood, her expression still still befuddled. Drying herself off, she donned an outfit Father Elijah had prepared for her and left the chamber just as Mordred was wetting her hair.

|||~I~|||

"Ah, done already, maiden?"

The sky was still red that morning, and yet Father Eli was already in the little cloister garden, give its flowers their bi-daily shower. Ruler waved at him while approaching.

Though Elijah Malbrook was definitely an intimidating man with his grizzled features and olympian height, his heart held a warmth one would expect from a man of cloth. In the days Ruler had been a guest of the abbey, despite always calling her "maiden", the priest treated her more like his daughter.

"Yes. And thank you for the robes, Father," Ruler said, properly folding her sleeves. "These are meant for priestesses to wear, aren't they?"

"I think they fit the image of saint well enough. You never got to wear the cloth when you alive, yes? Please, use this opportunity to its fullest."

Ruler warmly caressed at the sleeves of her uniform.

"Do you always water the flower in the mornings, Father?" she asked.

"Tulips aren't able to do it themselves I'm afraid." Seeing how invested Ruler appeared in the chore, Eli asked "Would you like to try yourself?"

Delighted was the only word Ruler could think to answer with, though she didn't say it. She merely nodded eagerly and reached for the pail. What she felt breach Westminster Abbey's bounded fields made her snatch up Eli instead.

Grasping his shoulder, Ruler tugged him back just as the meteor of rage and flesh crashed into the the little cloister. It was impossible to see through the debris of dirt chunks of one of the cloister walls that clouded the air... but it was fair to say the flowers Eli had watered were no more.

As a debris cleared, Ruler's galiant figure was revealed. She stood over the Father with her armor fully materialized.

"Rrrraaagh-!" the monster who had invaded the garden howled, causing the detritus around it to disperse.

A titanous savage, had invaded the abbey. And a Servant at that. Ruler could perceive that much with her skill [True Name Discernment].

Standing at two meters, he would have towered over even Elijah. And held in his hand was an atrocious weapon - an axe almost as tall as the titan himself, with what could only be described as "veins" climbing from its shaft to its blade.

"Berserker..." Ruler muttered.

"Rrrraaaaagh-!" he howled again, launching himself at her.

It was no different from facing down a freight train. Even for a Ruler, trying to go even with such an assault was akin to sprinting toward a missile... but with the Father still behind her, she had no other choice but to.

Ruler's flag took form in her hands as she braced to endure Berserker's blow, but a figure of silver and crimson blurred between them first. With a thundering "Clang!" that broke throughout the cloister like a thunderclap, the crazed warrior was sent reeling; a road of skid marks left where his feet trailed.

"Now, this is convenient - it seems the Servants of the Black Grail are coming to us before we can come to them," Mordred made the air whistle with a swing. "Perfect. This gives me a chance to prove my point ahead of schedule. Now... Watch and learn, Ruler!"

Despite already being knocked away once... "Rrrgaaahh-!" Berserker let loose a howl and threw himself at Mordred. Following the mad man's lead, Mordred did the same, and their clash made the earth beneath them rubble, as though the tectonic plates themselves were disturbed.

She was well below the average warrior's height and he was well above it, but in such a skirmish things like height differences were thrown out the window. Each time [Clarent] met Berserker's axe, the air itself would rift as both weapons ricocheted off each other. Neither warrior moved an inch, rather they slugged their arms at one another daring for the other give in first.

From what Ruler could see, the battle may as well have been between two Berserkers. It was not a dual, but an endurance round. And everything around the two were quaking, save for themselves. Yet, one of them should have long ago. Berserker - despite his arms littered in deep incisions, his swing never weakened nor slowed. Both increased, actually. As did Mordred's.

Their weapons were blitzing as speeds the human eye could no longer follow. After images of their limbs, and sparks where [Clarent] and Berserker's axe connected were all Father Eli could make out. It may as well have been a fireworks display.

Berserker's dexterity with the axe was beyond what Mordred would have anticipated from a warrior blind with rage, but it still wasn't enough.

The opening she was looking for finally revealed itself, and she lashed out at it, drawing more blood from the titan before her than there was water in the fountain. Even Berserker would be forced back by such an attack.

"That was a nice skirmish, Berserker. You put up more of fight than that fake-Saber did, at least..." Mordred pointed her blade at him giant. "But even the greatest king of the nation we stand upon was felled by me. Our battle will go no different."

The axe-wielder growled under his breathe. Despite his body being littered with slashes, he showed no signs of retreating. As was the trait of his class - to fight until death, whether it be his or his enemy.

"Rgaaaaaahh-!" Berserker's menacing axe was raised over his head...

And there it stayed for nearly ten seconds.

"...Tch!" Berserker suddenly clicked his tongue. "By the Allfather! What a bothersome lass my Master is..."

It was shocking moment for everyone in the cloister. Servants of the Berserker class were supposed to be devoid of their sanity, trading it for peerless physical capabilities. And yet the horned, axe-wielder before them seemed perfectly sane; albeit, still enraged.

He suddenly picked up on the atmosphere. "What's this? You'll all gone quiet."

"How... Are you not a Berserker?! How is your sanity still intact?!" Mordred barked at him.

Berserker touched his axe to his shoulder and laughed hardily, as though he had just been told a joke by a mate at the pub.

"Have you lost your way, lad? You really think that bit of [Mad Enhancement] the Grail lobbed my way when I was summoned is enough for me lose myself? Do you know how many times I triggered the Berserker Rage throughout my lifetime: Literally every battle I've been in since I was a boy. That's the essence of being a raider, lad. We Norseman were the original Berserkers! You expect nothing less from the King of Norway - Eric Bloodaxe!"

Eric Bloodaxe - having entered the profession of piracy before even the age of twelve, his life was one painted with bloodshed and countless raids. Even when his status rose his methods did not; slaying his own brothers to secure his full power over Norway. A raider through and through, even when he sat on the throne. For the King of Norway, his path was one paved red with blood.

"A viking are you? One of those pillagers from the North... I never had to pleasure of fighting one myself."

Mordred kept her sword at the ready, still raring to continue their battle.

"Ha! Are you truly the Disgrace of Camelot? You've a bit too much bloodlust for a Brit."

"The shoe fits then."

Berserker chortled at her comeback. Considering how barely a full minute ago they were still engaged in a fight to death, the present atmosphere was off-putting to Ruler and the priest behind her.

The Viking-King sighed nostalgically. "A duel to the death... Sounds glorious! Valhalla would welcome both of us with open arms."

Berserker sighed again, sounding much more fatigued this time.

"This makes it all the more regretful. You see, my Master put a Command Seal on me to retreat once the odds tipped out of my favor. I was just supposed to take out Ruler then steal off with Lesser Grail, but - oddly enough - you turned out to be here too. It's something my Master hadn't counted on. Shouldn't you be with that magus Ruler made a contract with? He'd make a much easier target than another Servant would, would he not?"

Mordred scoffed. "Worry about yourself instead of my Master, Berserker. You aren't really running off with your tail between your legs, are you?"

"Yep. That's exactly what I'm doing. Of course...if you gave chase and threatened to discover where my Master's Workshop was, I'd have no choice but to face you."

Berserker grinned. He basically gave her an open invitation. With a single jump, he launched himself from the cloister garden and out of the abbey, not giving Mordred a second glance. Taunting her.

A viking not only challenging a knight, but also egging them on? Mordred's pride would not allow that to stand.

'Prepare yourself, King of Norway!'

"Saber, do not go after him!" Ruler ordered.

The knight of silver and crimson glanced back at her. Annoyed or angry, it was hard to discern which better described her at the moment.

"Have you gone mad, Ruler? Weren't you the one who told me that defeating seven Servants at once was impossible? Well, this is our chance to dwindle their number."

"It's also our chance to fall into a foreseeable trap."

Mordred dismissed the comment with a gesture.

"As if any trap Berserker's Master set could stop me." The knight sliced the air in rebellion. "Enough of this! I'm going after him."

She braced herself to launch out of the cloister garden, but Ruler stopped her with a single gesture.

"Saber." Ruler held forth her hand. With this gesture, the Knight of Treachery froze in place, sensing a different ambience around the Maid. "Do not forget that I am the one who holds your Command Seals. If you continue trying to throw yourself in harm's way, I'll make you obey by force."

Rarely would a threat ever disturb Mordred enough for to lower her sword, the only exceptions having came from her mother, but Ruler's words were no bluff - this much the knight could tell. For a moment... she could even see the image of her father in her. Fortunately for Ruler, it had the opposite effect it normally would that morning.

With a click of the tongue, Mordred's sword and armor vanished. Relieved at her Servant's compliance, Ruler lowered her arm and dismissed her armor as well. Honestly, the gesture was more for effect than anything else. Ruler's Command Seals were located on her back rather than her hand, as was their usual resting place for Masters. But the gesture was enough make her Servant understand. Thankfully.

Ruler did not want to expend a Command Seal over something as silly as making Mordred "stay still."

- Shouldn't you be with that magus Ruler made a contract with? -

Berserker's question resounded throughout Ruler's thoughts. While Shirou was providing Mordred mana, Ruler still held the Command Seals. They would be worthless if she was not around to observe the knight's behavior. It made the most strategic sense for them to stay close.

Even so, Shirou honestly was a sitting duck. The only reason Ruler had been targeted before he had was due to her being the Lesser Grail's keeper, and the Westminster Abbey - regardless of its numerous bounded fields and connection to the monarchy - being an easier target than the Clock Tower.

There was no guarantee things would stay that way. Idmund's ultimate goal was the Clock Tower. It would only be a matter of time until Shirou would be the one facing down Berserker's axe. The only factor determining when was how far Idmund Versailles was willing to wait.

The sound of Eli popping his neck brought Ruler back to Earth.

"My Lord... What an exhausting way to spend the morning," he said. He glanced at the now nonexistent flower bed. The sight almost brought a tear to his eye. "Ah... So many months of labor taken away - Just. Like. That. It's too much!"

Mordred snorted at his show.

"Just plant more, Malbrook. It's not like the soil is any less fertile."

"Ah. Very decisive point, Saber. Oh, and thank you for saving my life."

Mordred flapped the coats of her jacket. "Just consider it payback for the outfit."

Elijah put a hand on Ruler's shoulder, thanking her as well.

"It's regrettable you didn't get a chance to water the flowers though, maiden."

"Don't worry, Father. I'll have a second chance once you finish replanting the garden."

Eli nodded again.

"...Let's contact Shirou beforehand, shall we?"

"O-oh... Yes, we should do that first."