Amidst A War Of Heroes, Shall A Witch Crash The Party

Waver Velvet was deeply jealous of the other competitors. Sure, the ones he'd seen so far weren't as pretty as he was, but they had one thing going: with the possible exceptions of the perverted witch and Gilgamesh, the other Servants were far less weird than his. Certainly, even the raging Berserker was more simple to control. After all, Berserker wouldn't demand to go to the shopping district and left its masters body from the ground.

"Aha! This book peddler seems like a good place to visit," the King of Conqueror's declared happily. "After all, the local literature is the second-best way to learn your way around foreign lands, you know that boy?"

Feeling a deep ache in the bit of his wallet, Waver asked, "And what's the ideal way?"

Hopefully, it would be something that involves less inevitably vanishing yen notes...

King of Conqueror's: "Well, the local brothels of course, but I can't seem to fi-"

Waver: "Books are great, I love books, let's go inside."

"That's the spirit of learning!" Rider charged inside, sparing Waver further thoughts of hairy Macedonian giants engaging in the sport of the sheets.

Trailing behind the large heroic spirit, Waver followed him into the historical section. While the King of Conqueror's flipped through a book about himself, laughing at various inaccuracies, Waver's eyes fell on one particular title. Analysis of the Message Bottles it was called, apparently written by some guy called "Ootsuki." Though Waver had little interest in such things normally, he did note a decidedly familiar face on the cover.

"Rider!" he said, tugging at the Heroic Spirit's shirt.

"What now, boy? I'm trying to... well I'll be." The King's admonishment trailed off as he saw the figure on the book cover.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

No matter how many times the world is made anew, no matter how many myriad universes are brought into existence and subsequently die, and no matter what gods reign on high and are tossed from their thrones, one thing always seems to be true:

It sucks to be Matou Kariya.

It may not always be that his childhood friend ignores him and marries a mage with a stupid goatee, stuck with a servant that barely listens and drains tons of prana, or being eaten alive by flesh-eating worms that also serve as the head of the Matou clan, but that's usually the case. And indeed, it is the case in this particular corner of existence. It is thus that Matou Kariya found presently himself vomiting his life's blood in a trashcan.

It was with the eloquence typical of any good journalist that Kariya expressed his thoughts on the situation. "BLAAAAAAARGH," said the makeshift magus, wondering who he angered to put himself in this situation. Before arriving at his usual conclusion of "Zouken" but then, a crashing sound echoed from behind him, causing him to turn and face the other side of the small alley he'd taken refuge in.

The sight that greeted the eyes of the dying mage was a truly curious thing. A fallen trashcan, as if knocked aside by a leaping alleycat, was nothing out of the ordinary. What was odd was that the inside of said trashcan was completely clean. There was no hint of garbage or wear, despite the outside of the trashcan showing years of use but Instead, what had spilled forth from the fallen trashcan was, oddly enough, an envelope. Crisply printed, it was an alabaster white with gold trim. It bore no signature of a sender, but the single golden wing that decorated it would serve that purpose to any attentive observer. Said design was, of course, the emblem of the Golden Witch, the mad Caster and final servant of the 4th war to reveal themselves before Berserker.

It was a testament to either Kariya's bravery or the madness caused by the agony and by being eaten alive that was slowly eroding his mind that he picked up the envelope and because of that opened it anyway. Emptying the contents into his hand, he found himself in possession of two items: a golden butterfly brooch and a letter. The brooch was meaningless at the moment, so Kariya went for the letter.

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To the Dying Mage Whose Name I Don't Know,

Your exact circ.u.mstances are a mystery to me, and truthfully I care little of the specifics, but I will say that what I sense from you is that unmistakable odor of unrequited love. I have a gift for sensing such things you know? Observing you through my horde of familiars tells me that the stench of it is overpowering with you, as is the stench of death. They also tell me of the Servant that follows you who, though invisible, has the faint prana signature of that black knight from the docks.

Allow me to be frank: I care nothing for this farce of a war. It is my wish to circ.u.mvent the entire exercise. But I sense that the rest of our fellows wouldn't like that. They have something to lose after all and far too much pride. You? You're a dead man walking and seem to spend a miserable amount of time in the sewers and alleys of this city. You, my friend, need help, help that gambling on some deathmatch organized by amateur magic users isn't likely to get you. It would be much better if you joined my side!

But I won't ask you to do that. After all, if I got a letter from an enemy offering me the world, I certainly wouldn't believe them outright. So to that end, let me take care of what I suspect is the least of your problems, that whole "love" thing I mentioned earlier. The brooch that comes with this letter is a love charm you know! It's one of the items I specialize in. Across time and space, surely it will bring you to that special someone! I once used it to bring together a maid and an heir. Cliche, but it worked. Just pop it on, and perhaps you'll find yourself more open to suggestions with my next missive.

With All Sincerest Wishes,

Beatrice The Golden, Servant Caster, the Endless Witch, the Golden Witch, Lady of Rokkenjiima

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No matter how one read such a letter, it would only seem suspicious. One would have to be desperate to take advice from a witch, never mind advice a witch delivered it on her own initiative.

Kariya Matou was a desperate man indeed. Staring at the brooch and letter for only a short time, he stuffed the letter in his pocket and pinned the brooch to the shirt he wore beneath the hoodie that concealed his twisted face.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Inside the Tea Room of the golden witch

"Ya know," began the whining voice of Uryuu Ryuunosuke, "I can't help but notice that I haven't gotten to kill a lot of people since I joined up with you Miss Witch."

Beatrice sighed, not bothering to get up from the reclining couch she'd had Ronove bring to the Tea Room, that she might rest and view her game board comfortably. "As I've told you before Ryuunosuke, you'll get your chance when the main event starts. Until then, you'll be staying here, where the other Servants can't get to you."

Ryuunosuke: "And when will that happen exactly? So far the only fun thing that really has happened was when you crashed that stupid upper-crust banquet. I mean, it was impressive when you did it, and then it was neat to see the silver-haired lady kill that gold guy, but if I'm not there I'm just not feeling it. It's like watching a horror movie, it just doesn't do anything for me! And what happened to that whole "elegance" business you were going on about at first anyway? You just piled them all in the middle like garbage bags and locked a door!"

The Servant rubbed her temples, feeling sympathy for what the King of Uruk must have felt during their dock confrontation. "There was a change in plans. I'll need to break down the magic resistance in the populace, and the best way to do that is to start with some old fashioned closed room murders. That and I needed the sacrificial energy to trap that stupid Archer. I set up both a grand ritual and created "faith in magic" amongst the populace in one go. It's not elegance of form, but it's elegance of function."

Mulling this response over, the killer found his cunning, while useful in making people disappear and avoiding investigation, he didn't really avail much on topics of magic. "Wait... what do you mean "creating faith in magic?" Do you need people to... believe in your power or something? I get the ritual, blood sacrifice and all that, but the rest makes no sense to me."

Beatrice responded with a most unladylike groan, then answered, "It's impossible to explain properly to someone who isn't a witch or a sorcerer, but essentially yes, that's how it works. And before you ask, no, I can't just go rampaging around in broad daylight. Now go and amuse yourself somewhere else, I need to rest and organize our future moves."

Ryuunosuke frowned at the witch's lack of cooperation but figured it best not to bother her further. Moody, though she was, she was still clearly the expert murderer here. Shrugging the dismissal off, he opted to go amuse himself in some other part of the Golden Witch's little extra-dimensional hideaway.