Always a Good time... for... BISCOTTI!... and Tea.

[BEOWULF]

Well.

This was certainly an odd twist to things. Half an hour ago, he was poised for combat, to throw down with the Japanese Servant. Half an hour ago, they were ready to initiate the first of many battles in Lucca - and on holy ground, no less. Half an hour ago truly was the best part of the day, with his Master's spluttering a close runner-up. But, on the other hand, half an hour ago, he was hungry.

crunchcrunchCRUNCH

But then again, half-an-hour-ago was vying with the Now for the spot of 'best-moment-ever-today.' BEOWULF allowed himself a satisfied little grin as he ravenously tore into his breakfast. By Odin, this thing was amazing. A dark-brown, nearly black surface covered fully half of this thing, tantalizing him with its subtly sharp aroma. At the same time, a whiff of nutty flavor captivated his senses. Truly, it was the god of foods, the highest in the pantheon of pastries... the biscotti.

gnarlsacKSHcrnch

Of course, there was also the other Servant. The man was wearing his ridiculously clean and neat suit. The neatness sharply contrasted with his grin, which he somehow managed to form while forcing five biscottis down his gullet at once. It was slightly unnerving.

And the Lancer was sitting across the table from him. In the middle was a bucket of biscotti, surrounded by a minefield of crumbs and chocolate. The bucket, once home to a forest of biscotti, now hosted only one intact pastry, along with a few broken halves.

But forget those halves. BEOWULF wouldn't settle for anything less than a pure one. And, based on the Asian Servant's steely glare, he, too, was aiming to claim the unsullied biscotti.

BEOWULF returned Benkei's gaze with an equally harsh glare, focusing only on his Rival. Both Servants, sitting on cheap, wooden chairs, suddenly tensed, separated only by a flimsy metal table.

Sure, his Master and the other jackass were sitting at another table across the cafe, most certainly the model of demure charisma, but fuck them.

Biscottis were at stake.

[Saito Musashibo Benkei]

What an odd serie of events. Just a while ago he was about to fight with this bare-fisted servant only to be interrupted by his lord. And that face-planting woman. That spluttering would be one of his best memories, stored in the humor section. But now wasn't the time to remember soft memories.

crunchcrunchCRUNCH

There was no time. This was a war. Now was the time to eat this delicious pastry. In a fucking suit. The hand reaches and takes one of the delicious food. Crunching noises, reminiscent of gunshots echoed as if the two servants were the only ones there in a glorious battle... for biscotti. Normally this would be quite the mundane task, eating biscotti. But now. Now this was different. There... There...

There was only one biscotti left in the bucket along with broken halves. Maybe he should take i- No! They are not worthy of being in Benkei's mouth! This biscotti, created by gods, with its delicious smell... There was only one left.

HE MUST TAKE IT AND EAT IT! THIS WAS A MISSION SENT BY GOD!

Benkei glared at BEOWULF, who probably had the same thing in mind. Berserker had guts (See wut I did there hurrhurr) to try to take this holy biscotti from Lancer's grasp. Benkei was seriously glaring at BEOWULF. They tensed, both on their wooden chairs. The metal table shook at both tried to go for the pastry, still glaring at each other in an epic duel of giants.

To hell with his lord and that face-planting woman. To hell with those people staring at him in fear. To hell with the Holy Grail War. TO HELL with his mission.

Biscottis were at stake. Now or never.

[Aela Atheling]

Well at least she wasn’t the only one to have a strange reaction to the other Servant’s face. The café had quickly become abandoned; one old woman had even run screaming from his face. It had even been difficult to get the barista to provide any service. The Master had had to send his Servant to sit down before she would even get out from under the counter.

She was seriously regretting offering to go with this man for tea. They probably wouldn’t let her back in here, after this. That was too bad; she really liked the tea here.

There was still something to be gained, however. She had briefly considered poisoning the man’s drink with a bit of the copper chlorate salt, but decided against it at the last moment. She had never tasted it herself, and wasn’t quite sure of its effects on the human body, she didn’t want to kill the man.

She didn’t hear what the man ordered, as she was too busy thinking about what Beowulf would want. She ended up buying biscotti because, well, she had no idea why. And a lot of it, they were two large men after all. They gave her a metal bucket to hold it all, and she handed it to Beowulf, who took it to one side of the café.

Well that settled it; she would sit on the other side. Don’t really need to be seen associating with him, at least when he is like this. Maybe if she didn’t sit close to him, no one would see him as a Servant. Yah, that isn’t going to happen.

She sat down with her green tea, taking a careful sip and sighed with pleasure. If this was the last time she was able to drink this place’s tea, she would enjoy it.

The other Master arrived at the table with his own drink. She could barely see his eyes now, because of that ridiculous bandana. She took another sip of the burning hot drink, and took a look at.

The tea almost sprayed from her mouth, but she forced herself to swallow. The two Servants had already finished the bucket of biscotti, save for one piece, and they looked like they were about to explode into combat over it. In a café. Over a biscotti. She had had some sort of plan before she saw that, but it completely left her mind.

What was she going to say? She no longer remembered. And he was looking at her, expecting something. Did he even notice what the two servants were about to do? She really did like this café, and would hate to see it demolished.

“Ummm…” She now was verbally stumbling for something to say. Great. This day was just getting worse and worse. She was about to ask him how his drink was. Wait, that might be a good icebreaker, loosen his tongue a little.

“How’s your drink?” She had her calm façade back a little bit. She didn’t want to even look at her Servant, and was even tempted to pull up her earmuffs disguised as headphones so she wouldn’t hear the two of them. But that would be rather rude to this Master. And she was looking to learn his secrets, not distance herself from him.

[Alan Girm Moria]

The mystic face of fear had it's ups and downs that was for certain. Upon entering the cafe the place had cleared out like an old spaghetti western at high noon. Alan had to resist the urge to ask the woman working register to draw. Regardless of his restraint the old woman wouldn't serve them until he had sent Benkei to sit at a far table. After taking advantage of his new found charisma he finally managed to convince her to take their orders.

The other master bought a green tea and sent her servant off to join Benkei with a bucket of Biscotti. Good thinking on her part, distracting them with food before they brought the place down. Alan took the time to size her up now that they had a temporary truce.

She was slightly taller than him but to a barely noticeable degree. The thick coat she was wearing prevented him from guessing anything but it was likely his earlier idea was true. The pockets seemed to contain a good number of items so her carrying a water bottle didn't seem as far fetched. Too bad Benkei but your face does not induce wetting oneself yet.

Her hair as well as her eyes were a deep blue hinting at northern ancestry but nothing concrete to go on there. From the cold personality maybe a tsundere? A rather prideful and clumsy type if her entrance at the church was anything to go by. Holding back from teasing would be the way to go but where would the fun in that be? Even the most serious novel had it's lighter moments so why not have them right now?

The unknown master took a table on the other side of the room from their servants probably not wanting to be seen in public with them. Was she embarrassed by them? Well there was something to work on with embarrassment but where to go from there? Play on the tsundere assumption?

Contemplating this Alan took a seat next to her and took a sip of his tea. It was a rather good grade tea and had the muscatel flavor the tea was known for. All in all this was a nice place like she had said. Speaking of her she nearly spewed tea all over him after glancing at their servant's direction. The expression on her face was a kodak moment and Alan deeply regretted not having a camera to catch that cute look. Draining the last of his tea he before decided to look over and see what was brewing now.

Glancing over briefly it seemed they were in a heated quick draw over the last pastry. You could almost see the flames tumbleweeds in the background. The problem was there was no sheriff only two outlaws fighting over who gets to rob the gravy train. Pastry train in this case. They were in their own little world but ignore them. Alan didn't feel like dealing with the other servant right now.

Glancing back the other master still hadn't said anything yet. she invited him out here most likely to grill him for info going on the little speech earlier. But what was this? Not even giving a name or at least an alias she had decided to get shy on him. Kind of cute of her but still it was starting to get awkward. Quick picture something to ease the atmosphere like a maid outfit. Great now I have an image of her surprised self from earlier in a maid outfit. Nice job being serious Alan.

“Ummm…” Finally deciding to talk the mystery woman started off with a hesitant sound. It only served to reinforce the image of a surprised and clumsy maid he had formed earlier. Alan forced the image out of his mind with a mixture of regret and practicality. He didn't like to think about it but she might try something even if it was still early.

“How’s your drink?” She put up the tsun tsun front again huh? It also looked like she was making a conscious effort to ignore the servant duo as she focused on him. Now how to write out the light moment of this chapter?

"It's rather good but not as much as yours it would seem. I've never seen someone drink tea as explosively as you and I get around." That might be giving a bit away but who cared? It was funny at least and he needed something to dispel the insanity this day was bringing. Alan motioned towards the server for a refill and gauged her reaction before continuing.

"Even though the atmosphere is like a shoot out over there don't let it get to you. Relax and just say whatever comes to mind. We'll set our own pace and the rest will flow from there." Alan glanced again in their direction as it advanced to the deciding moment. He kept a watch on his tea out of the corner of his eye, using his headband to block her from making eye contact.

Now to put a name to this face. "So like I said before my name is Alan. Thanks for inviting me out miss...?"

[Aela Atheling]

"It's rather good but not as much as yours it would seem. I've never seen someone drink tea as explosively as you and I get around."

Explosively? She drank tea… explosively!? She wasn’t quite sure if that was an insult or not. It might be. She completely ignored the idea of him getting around, traveling widely. She was too focused on whether or not that was actually an insult or some… no it had to be an insult.

"Even though the atmosphere is like a shoot out over there don't let it get to you. Relax and just say whatever comes to mind. We'll set our own pace and the rest will flow from there."

Relax and say anything that came to her mind? Right now she was pretty close to attacking the man for insulting her. But this time she managed to get herself under control, maintaining the front of calmness, despite the fact that she had a strange urge to wrap her hands around this man’s throat. Calm down, calm down, he is another Master; the last thing I need is to fight right now.

"So like I said before my name is Alan. Thanks for inviting me out miss...?"

And she couldn’t think of any fake names right off the bat. Hesitation would look like she was lying. She did have a spare last name though, that priest had made it remain in the forefront of her mind.

How common was her first name? And would he know of her old family? There was no way, they were long gone, the man would have had to researched lineage to a ridiculous degree to find a 220 year old family. He did not even look like one who dedicated himself to research anyways. But she had been wrong before.

“It is nice to meet you, Alan,” Aela extended her hand, and the man took it with almost a tinge of surprise on his face “I am Aela Corrain.” That name died long ago in Ireland. She would revive it; she had to pay for what had been done. This was the only way.

More than fourteen. How can I win like this? She would take anything, any chance to further her goal. This man seemed almost non-chalant, uncaring. Almost. He was thinking about something, something she probably did not want to know. Such a man might make a decent ally for a time, and may not expect betrayal, which may be needed. Perhaps, but she would have to sound him out first. She could just not deal with some people, after all.

She took another sip of her tea. Aela did not even look towards either Servant anymore. They could be rampaging and destroying the café, she didn’t want to know. “So, Alan, why are you fighting?” She said, as if discussing the weather. Right to the point, she did hate that but she had to drive home the fact that they were not here on some sort of social call. And she didn’t want the café to explode from the presence of two Servants. Aela hated being blunt. She took another sip of tea. A smile lit up her face, it was certainly good tea.

[BEOWULF]

BEOWULF stared back at Benkei, matching the asian man's vindictive glare equally. However, it wasn't a crude glare filled with gnashing teeth and raging eyes. No, the true war was waged behind his eyes, a slight, smoldering fire. They were truly the paragons of restrained fury, hands clenched on the table, causing it to shiver oh-so-slightly. Between them, the golden standard, the last Biscotti, stood undisturbed. The One Biscotti to rule them all, a glorious bastion of chocolatey and nutty goodness, was the ultimate prize, the treasure to be coveted beyond all.

Fuck your Grails!

Underneath the table, however, was a different story, as the two Soldiers in the War for the Biscotti started kicking each other. With swift, deft motions, BEOWULF shot at Benkei's shins, ankles, everywhere, only to be countered and blocked by the other's equally controlled strikes.

They had to be controlled here. Their Masters told them to, and BEOWULF was forced to agree with them. Destroying this cafe, the holy font of Biscotti, would be a truly tragic sin. So they would have to keep this discreet. Keep it secret, keep it safe.

Truly, this was a silent compact, one that Benkei recognized as well, as the other, too, was not about to steal the Biscotti. Instead, the war raged beneath their belt-line.

However, this wasn't good enough. Neither men were giving quarter, their legs buckling, thrusting, kicking, struggling with each other. This battle could continue indefinitely, for they were both men of incredible stamina and caliber!

So, throwing caution to the winds, BEOWULF lunged forward, and with a howl and a roar, reached at the upright Biscotti with one, grasping hand.

[Veronica]

Ominous...

Veronica was still lingering on the feeling she had received when she had woken up this morning. The city of Lucca never felt asleep nor silent for the most part, but as soon as she trudged the distance that separated her own modest dwelling from the cafe, she had been faced with an overly sense of offkey dread.

The cafe which should have been bustling with all kinds of people, was now emptied, at such an untimely hour. But this time, she chose not to obey the dreadful instinct. There would be few moments to enjoy a peace like that, as tense as it was in the following days.

Upon entering the cafe, she immediatly recognized the source of dread, as she froze up for an instant in the gruesome sight of two burly...men fighting over a biscotti like two feral dogs would bite theirselves to death for a bone. Not far from them, there were two patrons... a lovely couple , had it not been because of the apparent artificial politeness that involved their interactions.

Shaking her head off, she made all her way up to the counter, where she met up with an afraid face. The woman's puzzled expression ticked the fortuneteller that there was some strange...influence in the place. She did wanted to ask why Vero wasn't afraid of the man, but the woman instead chose wisely to struggle with her fears and take her order.

Vero sighed and asked for coffee and biscottis. The whole dread feeling was a refreshing change from the usual reticence that these kind of places had towards Roma. She spared a side glance at the two manbeasts and then at the other couple, and took a sip.

[Alan Girm Moria]

"It is nice to meet you, Alan, I am Aela Corrain." Although she looked more likely to bite him than shake his hand the offer was extended. Alan took the offer and shook her hand not wanting to be rude. He did a quick search through his memory for the lineage. Since it wasn't immediately in his mind it wasn't an older family nor did it use runes. He had most rune user lineages memorized during his studies. So a younger Irish magi family then. Of course it might be an alias but it was a start.

It seemed like she had taken offense at the comments from earlier if the tensed body language was any indicator. A pity there wasn't much of a reaction though. As Aela took another drink, Alan decided to leave his own alone. He still hadn't gotten a funny moment going! This was no time for tea! Now how get another face like the surprised one from earlier?

“So, Alan, why are you fighting?” Delivered plainly by Aela he had no response to it. So far he had only been going along with it since there wasn't much else of an option. There wasn't any real wish he wanted granted and if he made something up she would flip out. No she would probably come across the table at him though that might prove amusing in itself. Quick something to use as a wish,

"My wish in the grail war? Maybe for becoming the god of libraries or how about a library containing every book in existence? I haven't really decided on anything to wish for yet." That was a flippant answer even for him. At the moment Alan wished he had a twix bar. He needed a moment.

Aela's surprised expression seemed to agree with that sentiment. Maybe he would pick some up on the way home today. He needed to add materials to repair the katana to that list.

Getting distracted again Alan's face went blank as his gaze wandered over the place. It seemed the battle of biscotti bay was coming to a close with what was now #3 on his list of most ridiculous sights. They were kicking each other under the table like grade school girls. Freakishly large grade school girls. To add to the sight they seemed to have another patron join them in the cafe.

She was an attractive woman slightly older than himself. Her was dark skin and curves were like the spine of a leather bound book. Her eyes and hair matched this and she walked with a sense of elegance. However these were secondary in Alan's notice compared to this. The woman managed to shake off Benkei's face like he had! Normal humans and probably most magi couldn't do that so she must have experience as well. Even checking for opponent levels...Benkei is there anything your face can't do?

Alan followed her walk over to the counter and watched as she bought a coffee and biscottis then give both tables a glance. "Another one huh?" Alan murmured this under his breath and signaled for her to come join them at the table. This day might prove more interesting then he could have ever thought.

[Saito Musashibo Benkei]

The battle for the Biscotti with a capital B was raging.

Two men, driven by the raw desire given by their stomach to eat that Biscotti, that sacred treasure, were now going all out with their mighty strikes, all worthy of shaking the heavens above. Screw the Grail, I want Biscotti!

Block, strike! Counter! Strike again!

Two brutish men, sitting on small chairs facing each other on a table, were now fighting each other by kicking under the table. The two servants were ordered by their masters too keep it down so they wouldn't bother anyone, even if the place was empty. Benkei agreed, and destroying the cafe would be the worst thing he had ever done in this world. Berserker would probably agree with him, as their passion for Biscotti only grew as the battle raged.

Lancer only glared at Berserker, with all his mighty determination to get that Biscotti no matter what. There was no holding back. Suddenly, with a roar worthy of his class, Berserker lunged forward, reaching for Biscotti with his hand.

He was too fast. At this rate, Benkei would lose the right to having Biscotti in his grasp! There was only one thing to do. Responding with a roar of his own caliber, forgetting about the order to stay quiet, Benkei slapped the bucket away from the table before his opponent could even bring his hand closer to the holy Biscotti. The bucket flew across the room and crashed on the wall with a CLANG!, resonating for the whole cafe to hear.

A tear was shed for Biscotti. Everyone who knew of the delicacy of Biscotti, shed a tear, mourning the loss of such a precious thing...

My lord... I have sinned.

[Aela Atheling]

"My wish in the grail war? Maybe for becoming the god of libraries or how about a library containing every book in existence? I haven't really decided on anything to wish for yet."

Did she hear that right?

“Maybe for becoming the god of libraries...”

She couldn’t have heard that right. The god of libraries. She asked seriously, overcame her hatred of being blunt, and this man just upright lies? Well I would have too… But couldn’t he come up with something more plausible than… the god of libraries? It might have been to outrageous to be a lie, but how stupid could someone be. The god of libraries? It still rang through her mind. Could someone really be that stupid?

It was impossible to stop thinking about. Was the man insulting her again? Did he really think she would believe his reason. Did she? I mean it was possible someone like him had a ridiculous wish like that, but really? Aela was completely flustered. This man’s strategy… Is it to catch me off guard?

Her fury was still restrainable, but this man was beginning to push her limits. She had never been good with anything resembling insults.

She was about to give something that may have resembled a coherent reply, but more likely was going to contain some sort of error, or hint about herself, when the bell on the door jingled.

A customer? Oh well, they will be scared away by- Her mind saw the name of the Servant suddenly-by Lancer

And she just looked at him and walked by. Aela had had less fear than any of the patrons in here, but this woman had less than even her. Why did this day not stop digging a grave for her self-esteem? A magus, then?

“Another one, huh?” Alan muttered it under his breath. He isn’t completely without thought then, if he could see that.

Aela was on her guard, but Alan motioned the woman over. What was the man doing? Was he trying to stop the conversation? What was he doing?

She was somewhat attractive, Aela supposed. However it seemed like Alan was about to drool on the table. She did not want to know what he was thinking, or what he had thought about her, if he had. Her first impression had been a faceplant afterall.

Well if he could be welcoming so could she. A decently warm smile lit up her face “It does seem to be empty in here, why don’t you join us?” Was this woman an accomplice of this Alan? Was this an ambush? No that didn’t make any sense, she had picked the café, and never let him out of her sight for any way to get a hold of her. Was he just that… kind? Or was the word she was looking for stupid?

[Veronica]

A couple of moments after, the bucket that had caused so much dread for the two burly men had sprung towards one side. With a steel-nerved serenity, Veronica decided not to move from her place to not spill her hard earned, steaming coffee in one hand, and the small tray of biscotti besides her.

Needless to say, one of the other two people had made gestures to her, as if they were willing to ask or give an explanation. Had this been a normal situation, she would not have indulged in her curiosity, merely appearing aloof. However, it was expected of her to answer him, and maybe, even maybe she could talk them well enough in paying her tab.

Taking the coffee in one hand and the biscotti in the other, she begun to walk towards the table, measuring her steps carefully so that her biscotti would be hidden from the two ravenous manbeasts. She took her time, examinating the both of them. Of course. Magus just like her, that is why they could stay in a coffee with the dread feeling she was almost sure it was magecraft of some sort.

Well, it's not like she was breaking the masquerade or anything, and now she was rather...curious about what these couple wanted from her.

She stepped in front of the man with the...weird clothes, and addressed him.

"I suppose you have an explanation as to why is there ...a certain dread feeling in the air." She talked, her brown eyes catching the cues normal eyes couldn't see, forming an additional image in the mind, that came her as a feeling that this man would be part of something that would not comprehend fully.

"And good ...morning, mister and miss." She then added.

[BEOWULF]

Grinning with triumph, BEOWULF knew that victory was his. The Lancer was not fast enough. His reflexes had failed him!

He was BEOWULF! He had slain dragons and demons and demon-mothers. He had dived to the deepest of the depths and the darkest of war. And now, he would be the -

Wait... is he...?

BEOWULF saw Benkei's hand moving in slow motion. Why? The Lancer had already lost. There was no point. Then his hand swiftly spun and shifted, fingers outstretched.

No, he wouldn't...!

He would. Benkei, with a roar of triumph equaling his own, slapped at the bucket with a hollow clang, sending the holy grail of biscuits hurtling through the air. With an anguished scream, BEOWULF hurled himself out of his chair, attempting to salvage the Biscotti. Yet, that damnable flimsy chair failed him! It snapped under the force of his lunge, sending the Berserker into a small, undignified slide across the cafe floor.

Quickly righting himself, he dashed across the cafe, gently picking up the scattered biscotti... and words failed him. The last biscotti, too, had been crushed, nothing more than a mangled ruin of what it once had been! He bowed his head in a gesture of deep penitence.

NOOOOO...!

Small flecks of religious tears forming in the corners of his eyes, BEOWULF slowly rose, a solemn angel of vengeance. There were no words! No mercy to be had! Only justice!

Glaring daggers at Benkei, he pointed a shaking finger at the Lancer as he advanced upon the blasphemer, cradling the biscotti-tomb in his bosom with the other arm.

Vengeance must be had!

[Alan Girm Moria]

The new woman took her time sauntering over making sure to keep her bucket facing toward them. Considering how the two servants were about to come to blows across the room it was completely understandable. No need to draw a gun when the two biscotti bandits were about to start the shoot out. As she drew near, Aela rattled off a semi-sincere sounding greeting. He didn't have time to check if her expression matched the statement since the newcomer stopped to address him.

"I suppose you have an explanation as to why is there ...a certain dread feeling in the air." Yeah that would be Benkei's mystic face at work there miss. Benk hadn't said anything but at this point it was obvious to him that he had a mystic face of terror. Since it didn't show up under noble phantasm it had to be a personal skill of his then.

"And good ...morning, mister and miss." Then follow up with a greeting you normally start with. Well this was anything but ordered so why not? Even if this story was written oddly it was more than interesting enough to make up for it. Alan pushed a chair out with his foot so that this woman could sit down with her back facing the counter. From where he sat he could get a view of the door and window and when turned around see the deadly battle about to unfold between the two servants.

Taking another look out the window the street outside seemed to be completely deserted except for one odd man. Alan had noticed him turn down an alley as they entered thinking him to be another fleeing in terror. Come to think of it he was still there when the newcomer walked in. Was he waiting for them to leave or watching them purposely? Either way it was a good place to start a conversation.

"The dread you are feeling miss is probably from the machinations running rampant around here. Be it hers," At this he gestured at Aela with one hand. "theirs as simple as it may be," He nodded his head back to the two behind him doing his best not to picture a destroyed cafe. "Or the machinations of the man who has been watching us since we arrived." Alan's tone shifted from the light hearted one he had used since entering to the no nonsense one he used for those who caused trouble at the library. He shifted his gaze from the woman and turned his full attention to the man outside.

The other magi followed his gaze and upon realizing he had been found out, the man quickly disappeared back into the alley. Probably nothing to worry about though. We might never see or hear of him again after all. Highly doubtful and completely unlikely but it was a possibility.

"As for my machinations? I have none aside from riding this tidal wave of chaos to it's end. Looks interesting to say the least." Resuming his light tone from earlier, he took a drink of tea and looked back and forth between his two new acquaintances. "I'm Alan Girm Moria, and this is Aela Corrain. Nice to meet you."

[Saito Musashibo Benkei]

[OOC: Listen to this for this post :3]

Manly tears slid down from under the sunglasses Benkei wore. He made no sound as he saw Berserker running for Biscotti's bucket.

She, who was doomed from the beginning.
She, who shone with the light of the heavens.
She, who Benkei and Beowulf knew the most, stared at, and admired her body.
She, who lived such a short life.
She, who was now dead because of Lancer's impulsiveness. That slap was too hard on her.

He felt sorry. No. He was sorry, and wanted forgiveness from the one who ruled the entire Biscotti heavens. Benkei saw Beowulf as the Norse warrior shed tears, mourning the precious being that was Biscotti during her life in this dirty world.

She, who was too pure for this world. She never stood a chance.

He could practically hear Berserker denying this. He just knew that they were thinking the same thing. A huge, loud, internal no. Under his sunglasses he saw Beowulf advancing toward him, shaking a finger at him, holding Biscotti's... her tomb, her grave. The Norse hero was probably thinking about vengeance for her honor.

"...I'm sorry... Biscotti..."

He muttered, loud enough so Beowulf could hear his words. More tears fueled by manliness slid down Lancer's cheeks as he stared into Berserker's eyes, who were also tearing as much as his.

For once, he wanted to cry those manly tears for a lost one... That was probably the same case for Beowulf too, he who wanted vengeance.

She, who was beautiful beyond relief, was now dead and buried under crumbles...

[Aela Atheling]

Why did… ugh, she was furious now. All this man did infuriated her. And he saw right through her, when she couldn’t even begin to understand him! This wasn’t the way this was supposed to turn out!

I mean I guess it was obvious I was planning something. But… augh! No, she had to keep herself composed. It was very, very hard, however. Didn’t he know it was rude to come out and say things like that? Her machinations… Keep. Calm.

At least he introduced her. That was kind of nice, especially when anything she said would probably come out ridiculously harsh. Even a greeting would have probably been scathing at that moment. And her machinations cause dread when his Servant emptied a café by smiling!? Stop, you need to keep control right now. This is probably his plan!

There was a loud crash; something had smashed into the wall. Aela turned instantly towards it, and for some reason was not surprised. Beowulf and Lancer were both facing off against each other, glaring with eyes that could have pierced stone. And yet… tears? Is this a dream? Beowulf held the bucket in his hand that the biscotti had been in, pointing a massive finger at Lancer. It did make about as much sense as one.

… Were they going to fight? Over a pastry? Did Alan intend to let it happen? Well she wasn’t going to! And she had to vent her anger somehow.

“Berserker. Stop.” She paused. “Both of you stop.” Her words were harsh. Cold. Demanding. And filled with the anger that had burnt at her all day. She wouldn’t yell, but the tone conveyed far more than shouting would. It probably wouldn’t stop either of them, but perhaps it would make them at least use whatever brains they had been summoned with for a second. What kind of Servant would destroy a building in broad daylight, with witnesses? Over something that could be easily produced, even.

“Ahhh” she sighed with a sip of her tea, that felt much better. She could now sip her tea, calmly, and go back to ignoring whatever the Servants did, and focus on the task at hand. He had said he had no machinations, which she was now beginning to believe. If the man was really this simple, perhaps he could be… led.

“Sorry about that.” Wait… he had said something about another man following them? She had assumed they had turned towards the bucket smashing against the wall as well, but apparently they had been looking at someone. Someone had been watching them? Well, she could play along too. “Alan… who was that?” Hmm, perhaps she had overplayed the worry in that tone too much. That would most likely have no consequences at all, the man probably wouldn’t even notice.

[BEOWULF]

And all fell quiet. For a single moment, the world stopped to mourn Biscotti's passing with the two Servants. When the Servants weeped, the world weeped with them. When the Servants sighed, the world sighed for them.

All was silence and sorrow.

For BEOWULF, it appeared that the world had ended in the briefest of moments, allowing him a glimpse at oblivion itself. When he gazed at Benkei, he gazed within the pit of despair itself, and it horrified him. He saw a yawning maw, encroaching, an insidious beast ready to consume all around him.

clank

Almost unconsciously, BEOWULF dropped the bucket, still walking towards Benkei, step by halting step. The tears flowed freely now. Subconsciously, some part of him howled and roared its rage at him for daring to blaspheme, to desecrate the grave... but his body was robbed of all will, all purpose. He could only walk. He could only despair.

Soon, the two men were facing each other, indescribable maelstroms of emotions whirling within their visages. What would these two titans do? Would they instigate the first conflict within this war? Would they abandon all caution to the winds, and battle an eternal battle, undying, over Her love? What fury would they unleash? Would they cry havoc, and let loose the hellhounds of war?

BEOWULF gazed within Benkei's eyes, only to find equally an anguished warrior. For what appeared to be an eternity to the two warriors but a blink of an eye to the world, they simply stood, unmoving.

Then BEOWULF collapsed into Benkei's arms, reaching around for a manly hug. Before Lancer could speak, BEOWULF only murmured softly, "...No words, my friend. No words are needed... only our tears."

[Saito Musashibo Benkei]

clank

The grave was desecrated. Biscotti’s grave was desecrated as Berserker dropped the bucket on the cafe’s floor, walking toward Benkei. Seeing him walk in this state made Benkei think about those old stories he heard about the undead, robbed of all will, searching for their next victim. Benkei silently cursed Beowulf for such a blasphemy, but all of it stopped as he and the other warrior were face-to-face.

Some part of his mind told him to materialize his weapon, feeling uneasy about what the other man might do, even in this state. If he did this, there would be a battle; a bad, meaningless battle over her love. Would both of them fight because of her death?

Neither of them moved from their spot. Benkei gazed once again at Beowulf’s crying eyes, equally as anguished as Lancer’s. They simply stood, staring at each other in an eternal soulful gaze; to the two warriors it felt like it was eternity, but to the world itself this moment was but half a second, the blink of an eye.

He saw movement coming from Beowulf. Deep within himself, Benkei knew that this was not a movement meant to hurt or kill and he was right; the other man simply collapsed into Lancer’s arms who was already seeing this coming as his arms were already wide open, both reaching around for a manly hug. Lancer was silent and was about to speak, only to be silenced by Berserker’s soft murmurs, “...No words, my friend. No words are needed... only our tears.”

Upon hearing those truthful words, Benkei merely nodded as a sob came out of his throat. He who would have killed and destroyed countries for her love, was only thinking of mourning her death in the arms of another huge man. In a beloved one’s death Benkei found a friend. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, a voice asked him why a warrior such as him would cry over food. It was quickly silenced.

[Alan Girm Moria]

While time bending would not seem out of place in this erratic novel Alan had to admit it still felt unsettling. Immediately after finishing his introductions time had slowed to a crawl and his mind emptied itself until it was more devoid of life than normal. Alan was reminded of the time he was in Peru and a tour guide had fed him some "local" brownies saying they were a local delicacy. Did Aela manage to slip something in his tea without his noticing? Seconds became like months and minutes like a year as if the year itself had changed!

'Great I was looking for the trap and still miss...huh no wait guess it must have been a lack of sleep or something.' Alan blinked twice and shook his head as the feeling passed just as quickly as it had appeared. Alan decided to take a nap when he got home before something like this happened in a fight. He couldn't afford to be sleep deprived facing other magi.

"Sorry about that. Alan...who was that?"

It took about ten seconds for Aela's words to sink into his skull. The feeling from earlier had completely made him forget what he had intended to do just moments before. 'Who was who now? Oh the man spying on us from earlier...well really what to tell tsundaela?'

"Some weird person in a bear suit who has been watching us since we got here." Alan shrugged as he said this not asking as to why Aela hadn't paid attention. He was busy enough trying to remember what he had planned earlier. 'Let's see what was it again? Humor, something about books and curves, a tsundere...and biscotti?'

At the thought Alan glanced back towards Benkei and the berserker to see the two outlaws had already gone through the shoot out when he was out. Now the outlaws were weeping into each other's arms the pastry train lying in ruin against the wall. Okay he had let them run their course with it but enough was enough. It was bad enough to watch two grown men cry but having to hear it constantly in the background was going to grind his nerves. Why couldn't they take it into the bathroom if they were going to cry like grade school girls who kicked each other under the table?

Picking up their new guest's bucket of biscotti with an apologetic gesture Alan walked over to the two servants. Without stopping he scooped up the empty and mostly flattened empty bucket in his right hand. Using his annoyance at not being able to read he slammed the old bucket down on Benkei's head.

"Cut it out you two." Letting the echo of the bucket and bells ring through the silent cafe Alan looked at each of them in turn.

"This," Alan said holding the new bucket up for emphasis, "is a bucket of biscotti. There are many like it for 5 Euros not counting tax but this one is yours. That is if you can share it like adults and suck it up." Alan shook his head setting both buckets down at a nearby table before turning back to them.

"It is not okay for grown men to cry like newborns in front of a group of hap-," Alan paused to look at his two fellow patrons, "various definitions of happy people. That goes double for the both of you since it looks even worse than your normal countenance. Like possessed Halloween decorations. Now choose if you want to keep crying like girl scouts and go outside or turn off the water works and eat biscotti in here."

Even culture shock wouldn't explain this nonsense. Turning and heading back to his table Alan sat down and slid a 5 euro bill to their newest guest. Looking at Aela and the unnamed newcomer in turn Alan put his palms on the table and grinned.

"I can admit without shame I have completely forgotten what I was going to say a moment ago."

[Aela Atheling]

A bear suit, really? It seemed too ridiculous to be a lie but this man was full of ridiculous statements. Did he notice that she had not seen who it was? Probably, but that was the risk she took for asking for more information. This man was finding out more and more about her while she found out nothing about him.

That was… infuriating. The cup in front of her was slightly stained by the blood from when she had cut her palm. At least this Alan is less annoying than the priest.

It was true. And once again the information she had received blazed through her mind. More than fourteen. The amount of prana that would require was ridiculous. Even with fourteen, she highly doubted that Beowulf’s stores could last that many fights. It would be… useful to use this man to fight her battles. Or at least aid her in them.

What was the likelihood he would want to join with her anyways? It was likely that he would be able to see he would be used, even if he was rather incompetent, at least it seemed that way. What if he is just acting? It would be a good way to get information, and even make me underestimate him.

Well she wouldn’t.

And this other woman. A magus, but for what point was she here? Why would she risk her life this way? Foolhardy wom-

In the middle of her thoughts, Alan got up and slammed his own Servant in the head with the dented bucket that had created a rather large dent in the wall. She half expected pieces of Alan to go flying at that point. Servants were not something you did that to… Even if I don’t follow that same advice I would expect him to.

He also gave them the other woman’s bucket of biscotti. Well at least he paid her back for that. Personally, she wouldn’t have given them another bucket, seeing what had happened to the last. What if they decided this one was worth fighting over. She gave a cold stare to her Servant, but that was the best she could do for now. Right now she had to focus on the man in front of her. If she could get him to work for her, she wouldn’t even need to worry about the other Servant.

And a Magi without command seals could easily be another tool for her victory. Now, she just had to come up with an idea that would make it seem like Alan had thought it up. It was always easier when they thought it was their idea. Although this man probably wouldn’t even notice.

"I can admit without shame I have completely forgotten what I was going to say a moment ago."

Again with the interrupting of her thoughts. And pointlessly to. How was she supposed to respond to that? Insulting him was rather tempting, but most likely unadvised. His seriousness was low… maybe, but she still didn’t know how he would react.

But it was really, really tempting. She sipped her tea as a stall to give her more time to think about what she would say to him. An idea! She had intercepted him on his way to the church, so it was unlikely he knew about the fourteen thing either. If he was informed about that, he may suggest an alliance, even if temporary. Luckily right now her judgement was not clouded by anger, otherwise the likelyhood this plan would have been thought up would have been rather low.

“So you didn’t get a chance to go to the church, did you?” There was no need to wait for his response, the question was merely rhetorical. The worst part about this was the fact that she had to inform this other random magus about the situation, but that was acceptable in exchange for what could happen. “I might as well inform about what I learned, as a fellow magus then. There aren’t merely,” Merely, that was almost hilarious. One of these could be a hazard to the entire city easily, “Seven Servants. Not even fourteen. There are more, far more. It makes one wonder how it would be possible to survive this war, let alone win.”

Her shoulders shrugged as she took the final sip of the tea. Like normal it had been excellent, she would have recommended it, had she anyone to recommend it to. “Even with the rules, there is no way this city won’t come to harm. In fact there are probably some who wouldn’t have the same strictures as me and you would. Perhaps they would enjoy threatening civilians… or even taking their lives for fuel…” She sighed, fake but fairly convincing, at least that’s what she thought.

That should do it. Likely enough points were covered in her rather long speech to prick at least one of this blockhead’s sensibilities, making him suggest at least a ceasefire between them. A true smile lit up her face. This was going to work. And he would think it was all his idea.

[Saito Musashibo Benkei]

Being hit on the head by an empty bucket sure cleared up his thoughts a little. Yes, just before that silly event of a short Master trying to actually hurt a hard-skinned Benkei, the latter was acting extremely weird for some reason. Let’s just blame this on the taste of the first pastry of his life, okay?

Clang was the sound. Metal was the feeling. There was, however, no smell coming from the bucket; said bucket that, with a feeling of pure annoyance, has been slammed on his head. This attack triggered a chain of events in Benkei’s head, ranging from a simple ‘What?’ to ‘What the hell have I been doing?’ resulting in an awkward silence. Let’s not forget that he also promptly removed himself from the hold of a brutish Berserker who might have had the same reaction as he did.

It was after a simple muttering of “Let’s forget this okay? Never happened.”, that the two men swore to forget that this ever happened as it was quite embarrassing to overreact to such a thing as a bucket of biscotti. It should also be noted that the sight of a midget trying to scold a duo of huge Servants was quite humorous, and even Benkei, who bears immense respect for said midget, couldn’t help but not take him seriously.

Naturally, his answer to his Master’s chiding was one huge laugh; said laugh could have been heard from miles away if we put this into a hyperbole. With his mighty left hand he slapped Alan’s back once. Twice.

“It’s okay, my lord!” The huge man exclaimed himself with a boisterous voice. “We shall not do this again, you have my word. I am deeply sorry for disturbing your meeting with that wo-“ The huge man paused, noticing that the number of women at Alan’s table doubled. “Those women.”

It was with a grin and a removal of sunglasses that the suit-wearing Benkei sat back on his chair. “Do not forget to call me when it is needed, my lord.”

It was at that moment that he waited for his Master to leave their table and head back to his, joining Berserker’s Master and that other woman. He took a pastry and crunched it in his mouth, letting the sound of crushed pastries be heard between the two boisterous heroes.

Benkei swallowed the last of his pastry and looked at Berserker, his new friend in this world, with his fierce eyes without any malice behind them. He wanted to ask questions about his Master and about him, but it would be a little suspicious. If they were going to be allies, Benkei needed information about that unlikely duo.

“That lil’ lady is your Master, right?” He paused for a second. Such a strong-willed woman, for not running away at the first instant. Heh. Even if she was a little weird during some random events since he and his lord met her, the huge man had a preference for that kind of people. “What is your opinion of her?”

[BEOWULF]

Beowulf blinked. The thunderous sound of metal striking stone brought Berserker back to reality. The sharp clang snapped him out of his Biscotti-induced haze, dragging him back into the material world. Truly, a majestic sound.

Then he looked, and saw that Lancer's master was holding a battered bucket, with a distinct, Benkei-shaped lump marring its otherwise-smooth rim. Ah.

The Geat blankly glanced at the bucket, before the horrible realization of what had just transpired slowly sunk in. His features slowly sagged with this, before snapping back to his usually sharp countenance, but with a slightly apologetic tinge to it. However, said glance was not for his Master, but for Lancer. It was as if he were saying, or at the very least, thinking, It happened, okay, whatever. Let's just move on. He would have made an impatient motion with his hand, but that would be acknowledging the debacle of the past three and a half minutes.

As the irritated midget huffed back to his Masterly discussions with Aela, so did Berserker and Lancer stride back to their own seats, ignoring the rows of bemused, frightened, or amused eyes that followed the two giants.

As the spindly chair groaned and wobbled as Beowulf plopped himself in it, the Berserker plucked out another stick of Biscotti, and tore into it. Despite the last four minutes, the sin did not lie on the pastry, but on his own soul. He would have to restrain himself next time. The ambrosia of the heavens bore no blame.

Lancer seemed to share his opinion as well, still eating another slice of the stuff. Between one biscotti and another, he leaned forward, asking conversationally, “That li'l lady is your master, right? What is your opinion of her?”

Beowulf rapped his thick knuckles on the table, pondering briefly. He honestly did not know. Too easily flustered, perhaps? “Hmh. Haven't really seen enough of her to choose. Certainly seems strong enough for this War, being able to summon B - erserker.” Oh, nearly slipped there, almost divulged his own name. “And yours? Whaddya think of the little man?” The midget certainly had a brass pair. Beowulf would give him that, even if he would not admit it straight out.

[]YES I DUNNO ABOUT CULTURE STFU []

[Alan Girm Moria]

Multiple sarcastic remarks rose and fell in his mind as Alan drummed his fingers on the table contemplating the news. 14 servants in this war and it was still rising. At this rate IT WOULD RISE OVER 9000! he was never going to get his reading time back. The book from his family library had only mentioned seven servants fighting for the grail. 12 more beings like Benkei and berserker. Something was definitely wrong about this war just like his informer's comments.

Shifting in his seat Alan gave Aela his full attention. Going by what he had seen she was probably plotting something by telling him this. Her outbursts at the church and her tone with the biscotti incident was proof enough of that. But screw it he wasn't putting up with cloak and dagger nonsense this early in the morning. What a troublesome tsundere.

"Aela I get you are trying to suggest something but pay a bit more attention to the plot here. Your outbursts at the church and over the pastry deal make it obvious you are trying to drop hints. Just come out with it and say what you want to say already."

Shaking his head and pointing at aela he continued, "But what is really confusing is your line, 'as a fellow magus'. What magus would give away that kind of plot information in a war story like this? You need to choose your dialogue carefully or the readers will be reluctant to form a fanbase for you."

[Aela Atheling]

If a glare could kill someone, Alan would be dead and Aela might be able to regain something of a good mood. Could this idiot read minds!?

She was fairly sure the plan had been without holes. How he saw through it was beyond her. By comparing it to what she had previously talked about? It… actually made a bit of sense.

Too nice? Seriously, I don’t think that one has ever happened before. Feigning pleasantness and niceness had given her away. Still… being direct about it was not something she did. The fact that he asked her to be blunt about it too was just… Well she could be blunt.

“So you want me to be direct about this then!? Then you complain about me giving you helpful advice! I’m pretty sure you should be thanking me, not mocking me! Understand that this is a war, not some trip to a library in some fantasy world!” Yep. Shouting. He definitely needed it now. He was completely insane.

“Not to mention WHAT ARE YOU EVEN TALKING ABOUT!? Dialogue! Readers! Are you insane? You have to be insane! Do you have a single working brain cell in that bandana covered head of yours!? And speaking of that, how do you even see?”

She needed to take a breath after that exhortation. But she was not done, not even close to done.

“Realize this. I am helping you, and I just offered you the chance to join up with me. The fact that you are barely sane makes me seriously doubt anyone else would even think of partnering with you. Ever.”

Everything that he had bothered her with the entire conversation in the café was being unleashed. He had to learn.

“A bear suit. You saw a man in a bear suit! Out the window! And just leave it there like you don’t even care! You come right out and insult me by speaking of my ‘machinations’! You wanted blunt? Fine, you have blunt. You are a first grade idiot, who I could easily believe was not a magus and insane were an inmate in an institution for the insane!”

Another breath. The yelling wasn’t even helping. She was not calming down, only getting angrier.

“And seriously a library that contains all the books in existence! Or being a god of libraries!? Do you even…. I just… the sheer idiocy contained in that statement is beyond belief! Pointless mocking! You know what I want? To revive someone I killed, to change the past. That is a wish. That is not something you joke about!”

Her brother… normally thinking about her past sent her into a depressive state, but this time it just fuelled her anger. Actually… it seemed to be making her angry more often than depressed now. With the priest before… remembering that, her fury was reaching critical levels.

“Now listen! This is going to be important, so try to sink it into that rock mounted on your shoulders. I am offering you a chance here to not get completely murdered by everyone else in this war. I am not asking for you to prove any skills, anything at all, just offering because I don’t want to see someone with mental problems get killed. You have a workshop here. I am going to go there, and I am going to inspect it, since I have not had time to construct one. You are going to show me there.”

Yelling was not quite so necessary, despite the fury. She had reached a level where instead of sheer released rage she was just unleashing biting attacks at the useless magus. And he deserved it. Any time I say anything he talks about something completely unrelated!

“We will meet here in about three hours. You will be here, understand? In fact its probably a good idea that you stay here because I don’t want your simple mind to lose that thought. If you aren’t nothing shall keep your guts from being torn out by that brute over there. Nothing. Then I shall see if your house is remotely suitable for use, although I doubt it considering… well you.”

How long ago had she stood up? She was lecturing him from her feet, had apparently done so the whole time. It added more force, and more force was what she needed. Why she was even suggesting this? There was no real reason… but a workshop in exchange for this man? Well maybe he would understand now, and she could leave at any time.

“Any questions? Questions that aren’t gibberish, at least?” If he started with that this mocking again… well she may not be able to prevent a fight in the café. Although it was unlikely she would ever have to fight this man, he probably didn’t even understand fight. She had been taking him way too seriously until this point. Incompetence made much more sense than a genius masquerading as an idiot.

[Alan Girm Moria]

'We're all mad in wonderland Alice.' The image of the chesire cat lept into his mind unbidden with a trademark grin plastered on his face. The image was oddly fitting all things considered. Legends and fairy tales had come to life in a secret war for a wish. Meanwhile their Alice continued her rant as mad as the rest of the occupants. So was that where this city was headed? Was Lucca going to become another wonderland? Why so serious aela?

Alan pondered this impassively as Aela began to finish venting her anger. Was she always this loud? Putting a finger in his right ear to stop the ringing Aela asked her final question. He choked back a chesire grin with some measure of success. Her tsun tsun side was certainly in full force today.

"U MAD ALICE? Feeling better now Aela? Although showing concern after your outburst might amount to gibberish." Letting the grin shrink from chesire to bemused Alan brought his finger from his ear and gestured at the seat. He hadn't meant to piss her off but he had to admit it certainly was amusing.

"I appreciate you giving me this advice and believe me it certainly was helpful. But rather than mocking you I was wondering why give out something so vital to begin with. You said as a magus but magi aren't the most helpful people and that goes doubly with information. In a war like this which is just as fantastic as a story it would be even more so. So once again thank you Aela for being so kind."

As he talked the grin became a kindly smile although he doubted she would see it as such right now. So she did it because she wanted to ally with him. Well it could have been delivered better but at least she had a good intent. Maybe with Aela it was still a bit hard to tell.

"As for the word choice it's just a joke don't work yourself up over it." Alan made a slight handwave to dismiss it before continuing. "I make jokes to ease the tension. If I stress myself out before the war starts then where will I be? Tired, shaky, and easy prey. I also see rather well thanks for asking~."

Covering her points one by one seemed like a good idea to calm her down. Really most of them weren't even worth getting worked up over. Now he had to make her see that as well. Best to think of it as calming down an angry child in the library then.

"As for the bear suit I can't help what I saw. Also what reason would I have to challenge him for it? It's his choice what he wears and not my concern if it causes problems. Trust me there are much weirder things in this world than a costume." ...Well he was just going to let the sanity remark slide this time. No point making an aela about it.

"As for my wish, what of it? A wish for this grail should be something you can't achieve through normal means. Regardless of whether it's fueled by a simple desire or an overwhelming regret who is to say one wish is better than another? I'm not picking a fight about it just stating my opinion here. Take it as you will." Alan raised both hands back as a peaceful gesture. He couldn't tell with her but it seemed she was beginning to calm down. Or snap completely...maybe he should prepare to cast an ansuz if it got out of hand.

"For your ally offer I'm not against it but there are two things I want to make clear," Alan lowered one hand to the table and held up two fingers with the other. "One, you said other magi might not share the same strictures and that certainly is true but do we have the same morals? Flipping out and killing someone for the war in broad daylight isn't something I would do. Especially over jokes and being late. Those innocents you mentioned could easily get involved as well."

Alan waited to let that sink in before he let the first finger drop. The jokes were done for now and if he was going to ally with her he had to make sure it was worth doing so. He was easygoing but even he had limits about people.

"Two, if we ally I don't mind letting you in my workshop if you can behave. While I don't care much what you do there will not be any shouting or throwing a fit in the library. If you can clear these up I'll see you in three hours. So my second question Aela is what is your answer?"

[Saito Musashibo Benkei]

Lancer did not even take the time to notice Berserker’s almost slip of his own identity. All he was thinking about was what kind of information he could bring to his Master. Of course, that was not on his priority list, as the man also wanted to know more about his soon-to-be partner. He seemed like the nice guy, and seemed like he was one hell of a fighter considering his class. He seemed to be just like Lancer.

“I have to admit that the kid has balls.” Lancer started. It was true, indeed, that his new lord had quite the guts to not piss his pants and shake in fear when faced with the Servant’s presence. “He also summoned me. He seems strong enough too.” The half-ogre roared in laughter as he mentioned that his lord was lucky enough to summon him, the great Lancer.

His laughter was interrupted by the sudden tension in the air. Lancer’s eyes narrowed more than usual as he tried to find the source of said tension, which was revealed to be coming from Berserker’s Master. Apparently she was now lecturing his lord because of his antics and book comparisons.

Well, considering that the man was living in a complete library it was quite obvious that he would be a bookworm, and thus prone to make book analogy. Not that Lancer cared, though. As long as his Master had guts he would stand by him. Speaking of which, Berserker’s Master’s voice was getting louder and louder, and if he went by personal experience that was not a good sign.

It was at that moment that Lancer got up from his small chair and slowly walked – or stomped, considering that he put his full weight in every step - toward the two Masters. His lord was now talking back to her, explaining every point she had said while snapping. The Asian warrior stopped right behind the blue-haired girl and condensed every inch of killing intent into his gaze and face. If his default face was akin to what an extremely dangerous criminal, this face was now the one of a very angry ogre who had been deprived from sleep. Not that he was angry, though. He only wanted to calm the atmosphere with force, something he usually did when the situation was extremely tense back in his era.

Lancer waited for the girl’s answer before he raised his voice from behind her. “Anything wrong, my lord?” The two meters tall behemoth’s voice bellowed from the depths of his throat.

[Aela Atheling]

If she had any weapon on her she would have stabbed Alan. Or hit him, or whatever one did with whatever weapon it was. She was even considering tossing the fine empty teacup at him. He had to be doing this on purpose, had to!

Yet… he agreed. However he put restrictions on her! On her!

“That’s not the point! A guy in a bear suit is not an answer more like a deflection! What I wanted to know was-!”

Heavy feet stepped across the tiled floor, and, despite being quieter than her shouting, silenced her. Do not look, do not stop, do not look, keep talking, keep shouting, don’t look.

“What I… uhhh… wanted to-“

He was there. Right beside the table. The other giant. What was her Servant doing? He was supposed to keep him occupied.

Don’t look at him, keep talking.

“Something wrong, my lord?”

He was behind her.

Her heart was trying to jump from her chest. She wasn’t even looking at him and she was afraid! He could just move his hands and I would die! It took everything in her to not leap up and scramble away, to run, to get to a safe distance.

M-my hands! They were trembling, almost shaking the very table. Quickly they were forced to her lap, folded but still trembling.

Veronica, staring at the beast behind her was silent and cowed. She had shown no reaction before but now was almost in as bad a condition as her.

B-Beowulf! Even her thoughts were barely understandable. She had not looked, and still that face! He stood behind her, and she could no longer keep her dignity.

She turned her head.

The horrible face behind her was like a nightmare. It was filled with death, and the intent to cause death. Everything she could imagine that made her ‘fear’ was contained in that giant’s glare.

Her face turned far too quickly back to Alan. She saw him, but her eyes barely passed the information along. The giant’s face was still fixed firmly in her mind, that terrible smile.

Calm down calm down calm down! Yet she could not. What he had done before was nothing like this. This was on the level of Magecraft. She had heard of Mystic Eyes that charmed people, but nothing came to mind that could cause an effect like this, and on a Magus.

And it wasn’t just the face. There was fear of what he could do to her, killing her being but a small worry. He did not sound overly hostile but that face…

No weakness please just continue. Show your strength! He doesn’t fear you or your Servant at all! And this… and this… She could not even remember where she was going with either her thoughts or her words. The memory of what Alan had said was gone, what she had said was gone. Everything. Everything she was mad about. It was all replaced by fear. Everything but a single question.

Would she agree to… something. Some terms, he had stated something, she just couldn’t remember. Her eyes darted, trying to help her grasp a memory that was no longer there. I have to say something!

“I-I” Even her voice trembled from the giant’s presence. “I ag-agree!” Just get this thing away from me!

Why had her Servant not stopped him? Why did she have to deal with this? His was a face of nightmares, and no matter how hard she tried to shrug it away the picture of it, it was still there.

She tried taking a deep breath but it only served to look normal. I was almost hyperventilating? Thankfully she was starting to get used to the fear, but it was still there, she was still trembling. It just wasn’t as… oppressive anymore.

Perhaps she had gotten used to it, perhaps her body’s resistance had finally helped, but either way she did not like it at all. The fact that the fear was still there… It couldn’t be a Noble Phantasm but… still. Why did he even need that face, the face that had made her trip before? It was almost not even fair.

Before she had been nervous, nervous of her chances in the war, nervous of enemies stronger than her, nervous about her own skills, nervous about her unpreparedness.

Now she was afraid.

[BEOWULF]

"Mh?" Beowulf slid his chair back in a screeching cacophony as Lancer got up. He turned back, craning his neck, glancing at the Master duo. His Master was standing there, chest heaving, the last vestiges of anger throbbing and pulsing dangerously. Her fury seemed boundless, breath coming out in short, hot bursts, white-knuckled hands balled into fists.

Situation needed to be remedied - but it seemed that Lancer was on his way. There was no killing intent, no hostility emanating from the Servant, so Beowulf was content to let him deal with it. He leaned back slightly, idly testing the limits of the flimsy chair. The next moment, he snapped to attention. In a blur, he rose to his two feet. The chair behind him splintered with the force of his movement, the pieces sent tumbling backwards.

Though he felt nothing, his master felt... some emotion. It was an odd one, something that he could not really quantify. A curling knotty feeling in the bottom of his stomach. Beowulf was not sure what would provoke that feeling, but the fact remained: His Master was uncomfortable.

Already standing, Beowulf turned back to Aela. Gone was the rage. Gone was the righteous fury, the exasperation. All that remained was a stammering, stumbling girl. White-faced, trembling, it seemed that it was all she could do to not break down and flee the scenes. In front of her stood Lancer. Though Beowulf could hardly see his face, he assumed that he was... exerting some sort of pressure on her.

"'Ey," Beowulf called out. Lancer didn't seem to hear him.

"'Ey." More force this time. Again, no response. Already, Beowulf was closing the distance between the two Servants.

"'Ey. Lanc'r." This time, a flash of anger coursed through him.

Beowulf stood behind Lancer, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. Fingers slightly digging into Lancer's shoulder, the Berserker spoke once more, unperturbed by Lancer's face. "Enough of that."

[Alan Girm Moria]

Well this plot was certainly derailing with the speed of an exploding freight train. After managing to calm the mad dog down somewhat, Aela was already back to breaking point. That is, until Benkei showed up and glared at her. Alan wasn't dumb enough to crane his head up far enough to see, but the results on Aela's face were obvious. Watching the inevitable ascent of doom, Alan mentally thanked Akasha for the existance of headbands and best sellers. They were the only things keeping that nightmarish image from imprinting itself into his mind. Ogre face TM! full power was by no means reccomended for your health by any sane doctor as Aela was discovering. Useful as hell in negotiation though. I should probably reward Benkei later on for that.

"Everything's fine thanks for asking~." The grin that was slowly dying out had gained it's second wind as Aela stammered her agreement. True, his own grin didn't match up to his servant's but it didn't need to. His grin was better suited to evoke a laugh rather than soiling one's pants. In full chesire mode, Alan ignored the approach of berserker. Taking a mental bookmark of flustered Alea was by far more important than listening to that tall bastard. This was the high point of the chapter and nothing was going to spoil it!

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"Okay moment is over, moving along then. I'll meet you back here in three hours then since I also have some things to do today. Have a safe trip Aela~." Rising from his chair, Alan waved to Aela on his way out of the cafe. No point letting her regain her senses and start on another rampage.