The Laws of Nature and Reason

[Elfrida Schwarzwald]

    DAY -1: 11:34 PM

    Yet another evening in an unfamiliar landscape...

    The rolling hills of the Tuscan countryside were alien and disturbing, offering no comfort in their nightly beauty to a lone girl whom found herself a refugee in her own estate. There was so little that would settle the anxiety in Elfrida's heart this night. So much was burdened on her shoulders now. Secret shadows of this girls world were all converging upon her now, seeking her despair. It took all her will to remain composed in such a situation, and now at such a Pivotal moment, the young girl found herself shaking in frustrated apprehension.

    "I can not... I can not falter here... Not now, not ever."

    The young girl looked up at the moon in the night sky. It was close to its apex for the eve. That would mark the beginning of the great conflict which her fate was so entangled. If she did not strengthen her resolve now, then surely her end would come on swift wings. Survival demanded action, and any misstep was like to bring catastrophe. The memories of the past, her teachings, all that she ever knew came fleeting across her mind. All of it was riding on her ability to take control of the situation, to subjugate the fates and carve out her own destiny. Yes... that was what she needed to keep in mind. This was no battle of ideals or greed. It was a struggle for survival.

    "Yes... Very well. Let us begin."

    Turning from the pale moonlight, Elfrida made way into the Schwarzwald Tuscan estate. For the past few days, she had taken refuge in this old residence, hiding from the enemies that would see her dead and establishing a workshop for the trials to come. Often times she would take a moment out on the balcony to relax her nerves. Solitude was all so very new to her after all. Back in the German estate, Elfrida was always attended by servants, tutors, and her father. She was groomed every second of her life. Now, she was alone, left with minimal resources and the knowledge given to her throughout her life.

The first trial was about to begin. What future lay ahead for this mysterious girl?

---

DAY -1: 11:40 PM

A tune to accompany this dance of fates...

    The basement of the Schwarzwald estate was well maintained. It had become obvious over the past couple days that a cleaning service had been hired to handle the estate in the families absence. Now with Elfrida taking refuge here, the workshop was of much use. All the girl in white needed was provided, even the artifact needed for the ritual about to occur. In the center of the room, the floor was clear of everything but lit candles, intricate carvings, and an open ornate box. Within the box was a peculiar object; an artifact of an ancient time. A golden needle, encased in ice that would never melt. This was the item provided to Elfrida at the start of her preparations, and was the focal point to the entire ritual.

    "Right... Let us begin."

    A glint of intense resolve shined in Elfrida's cold blue eyes as she extended her hand out towards the carved magic circle before her. She could feel the power around her as her focus narrowed onto the ritual. The atmosphere grew heavy with the mood and a resounding silence overtook the room before the faint whispers of chanting began.

    "Das Material ist aus Silber und Eisen. Der Grundstein ist aus Stein und dem Großherzog des Vertrag. Der Ahn ist mein großer Meister Schweinorg.
   
    Schutz gegen einen heftigen Wind. Schließ alle Tore, geh aus der Krone, zirkulier die Gabelung nach dem König."

    The magic circle before Elfrida began to glow a ghostly white, and the ornate box within the center began to tremble as the shard of ice began to rock within. The incantation Elfrida spoke held power. Power enough to challenge the laws of Nature and Reason. This was the moment the young girl, the Homonculus of the Schwarzwald family had prepared for all her life.

    "Füll, füll, füll, füll, füll.
   
    Es wird fünfmal wiederholt.

   
    Nur ist es die volle Zeit gebrochen.
   
    －Satz."

    What was once a light shaking now evolved into a full on tremor as the the vibrations coming from the circle reverberated throughout the workshop. Such power was beyond what most practitioners of Thaumaturgy would ever see in their lifetime. This was a power not seen since an age where magic thrived and technology was but a fledgeling concept. Elfrida manipulated this power with but her will, Natural talent and resolve combining to summon a weapon that would win any war.

    "Du überläßt alles mir, mein Schicksal überläßt alles deinem Schwert.
   
    Das basiert auf dem Gral, antwort wenn du diesem Willen und diesem Vernunftgrund folgst."

The strength of the spell was growing more and more, and power erupted out of the circle like a font ready to burst. It was an incredible sight to be sure, but Elfrida did not dare break her focus. This moment was far too crucial to be taken lightly. The strength of her will had to be boundless in order to tame the beast she was calling into this world. This was the do or die moment.

    "Liegt das Gelübde hier. Ich bin die Güte der ganzen Welt. Ich bin das Böse der ganzen Welt.

    Du bist der Himmel mit dreien Wortseelen. Komm, aus dem Kreis der Unterdrückung, der Schutzgeist der Balkenwaage－!"

With the utterance of the final verse, the calling was complete and the circle exploded in a display of magical force. The light from the carvings was so bright that the circle was indistinguishable. The candles surrounding the carving blew out from the bursts of air coming forth, and the house shook to the foundation as a being of old was called back into the world. Elfrida's icy hues squinted into the light, just barely making out a figure before the light faded away. Before her was a being obscured by darkness. The young girl was wordless, unable to make out the form of the creature before her, and so she waited for it to step into her view.

[Koschei the Deathless]

[Castle Pandemonium – FFIX OST (Dark Remix)]

The silhouette within the summoning circle stood resolute and tall, shoulders spread, chest forward. It had two feet. Two arms. One head, crowned with what seemed to be numerous wrist-long spikes. It was difficult to tell just what the build was like: was it bulky due to armor, or had been such naturally. Two light sources shone in the room: Two twin emerald orbs, glowing with cold indifference, staring directly at the speechless girl in white who stood before it, as if sizing her up… and an eerie, crimson light shed by a much larger orb, whose contours had been obscured. It was a dull light, which, unlike the warmth the color is always associated with, had instead been just as cold as the emeralds, but had none of their – if dark and incomprehensible – life. It had simply ‘been’ there, but that had been enough for it. Not even the darkness surrounding it wished to be near it, the World attempting to shove it away from itself.

There was a small icy ‘click’, followed by a rush of cold air, and as the figure stepped forward, the silhouette swam, contorting and shifting. A swift and brutal blizzard suddenly kicked up, as if a door…No, a gate had been thrown open, making the small wind that extinguished the candles seem like a summer breeze. The wind and snow were enough to chill to the bone, and make one’s blood run cold. An unnatural, unearthly chill that permeated from the very core of the figure veiled in shadows, now stepping further. It was certainly a man, this one: two arms, two legs, and one head. That much had not changed. The silhouette and the black-armored specter that stood before Elfrida, however, had nothing in common. The eyes had been concealed by a face-mask that would not have looked out of place on a demon’s face, the elaborate spike-like design had been changed, altered, no longer crown-like. The armor, for the most part, had been quite sleek, spiked on the shoulders and elbows, and in general suggested a muscular frame used to the battlefield.

There had not been a single tinge of color upon it, other than the purest black, so even when he had walked out of the darkness, he looked like a piece of night that had forgotten to dissolve when day had come. As it had come fourth, the candles had lit once more, unbidden, as if a will that had wished them extinguished relented and allowed them to burn once more. It seemed, first, like there needed to be a small correction: In some places, the suit of armor certainly did possess the odd stripe of red in its design, but the color had been of old, dried blood, and it did not stand out much to be seen by the untrained eye simply watching idly. It did not move, not say a word, but just as the candles had been lit, the wind had ceased, as if it had never been there in the first place, leaving only the cold as a memory of its presence, and a small layer of snow, so contrasting to the armor of the newcomer. Not a single snowflake dared perch upon his shoulders, nor the cape that hung limply behind him – the material had not even been seen before, although it should have been clearly visible in the wind… It remained immobile, uncaring.

The armored man was unarmed. There was no spear, no sword, no bow and quiver, literally nothing that could be used as a weapon on his person. As it stood, however, his presence alone had been weapon enough. Even standing there, wordlessly as he was, looking at the girl who had summoned him with eyes concealed from human sight, he had been bathed in the cold, choking radiance that was neither dead, nor alive, but that of something that had transcended humanity… Or perhaps had never been human to begin with. It had stood this way for a short while, before its head turned silently, regarding the surroundings with what seemed to be a healthy dose of criticism… Until at last, the silence had been broken by an ancient voice as cold as the basement had become, sounding older than the roots of mountains, yet the tone itself had seemed to emerge from a throat of a young man – though perhaps the armor’s facemask was simply playing tricks relaying the voice:

“You have called, and I have been summoned. Tell me, homunculus, do you know whom you have brought fourth?”

The figure stood still, as if frozen, awaiting a reply from the one whom the ever-ironic fate had decreed be his Master. But then, to one such as him, Fate had been rather meaningless: Fate had been for the weak-willed mortals whom trembled at is invisible, intangible, inexistant strings, whom still had something to lose… Who above all, were afraid of the very thing he had long since discarded: Their deaths. It had certainly been good to have been summoned, but by a woman… Still. Cold emerald eyes studied the woman from where he stood, regarding the construction. It was certainly a homunculus, as he had first suspected, and the make had been rather good. Coining one had not been a day’s work, even for him, should he have wished for it. How old was this being with eyes so similar in chill that dwelt within them, to his own, yet possessing a body of a young woman? Who had made her, and why? Had she been merely a puppet in someone’s hands, or had she acquired subjective freedom? Most importantly, just what sort of being was this one? The fact that she had been a homunculus did not take anything from the fact that she had been female, and women, in his experience, had been poisonous snakes…

”Speak, woman. There are a great many things that are not yet clear to me. The sooner I eliminate the unknowns, the better.” He paused, the grinding of his teeth inaudible to the girl: "...It seems I am being coerced to inform you that in the context of this 'Holy' Grail War, I am to be referred to as a 'Servant Caster'... But now that I have done so, I shall also tell you that that shall simply not be."

[Elfrida Schwarzwald]

    The scene which played before young Elfrida was beyond any she had ever bore witness to in her short life. The darkness, a contrast that existed far beyond ones visual perception; It crept throughout the entirety of the basement and even settled within the homonculus' spirit. Within the blackness of the this ink-like shroud glowed two hues of emerald. They were cold, giving no alleviation to the suffocating darkness, but there was a familiarity behind them. The white maiden could feel a sense of understanding within her. These were eyes that shared a frigid view of this world, who understood the actions that must be taken in order to succeed. That was comfort enough, even in the chill of the dark chasm that was once her basement.

    Soon enough the shadows parted way, only to reveal something even darker in construct. The emerald eyes which Elfrida held in her gaze flitted away and were replaced with a grotesque visage. There was indeed a man within this umbra who now stepped into her vision. This character brought with him the chill of a winter wind, something the Homonculus had grown accustomed to in her childhood years. Ice and Fire to presence within the room, candles lighting and creating a somber glow which reflected off of the thin coat of snow created by the winter chill. This was the power that the dark being before her commanded. An Icy will that dominated even flame. 

    Time would pass by slowly as these two contrasting beings sized one another up, comparing one each to unspecified criteria. The dark knight before her seemed strong of body and will, that was for certain. The shadow-like armor accentuated his physique, while the strong magical presence spoke a will that trumped that of some of the strongest thaumaturgists in the modern world. The blood that stained his dark armor spoke volumes of history on its own. Yes... this was what Elfrida had brought into the world; A creature whose existence brought suffering to all those around him, yet no remorse ever settled in his mind. This dark armored devil was the disaster Elfrida needed to claim her victory.

    "You are exactly who I need you to be. A disaster to my enemies and the key to claiming the Grail. Koschei the Deathless, Witcher, King, Monster. I summoned you here because you and I have business to conduct. What say you?"

    The ice blue hues of Elfrida were as chilling as ever, not once blinking in the face of the devil. She knew full well the history behind this untamed beast before her. Koschei was a being worth detesting in any normal circumstance. Not in this current situation though. Looking past the atrocities he committed and the sins against Elfrida's gender, he was everything that Elfrida could ask for in a weapon. All feelings were to be discarded in this war, and a business attitude would be adopted in their future dealings. 

    "You may call yourself as you see fit. I care only that it does not reveal to our enemies any information of importance. If names are of such import to you though, I shall tell you mine is Elfrida Schwarzwald."

    The white maiden's expression was cold and uncaring of her servants egotism. If he so wished to be called different from the name "Caster" that was his own prerogative. The girl turned from her servant, stepping lightly towards a pair of arm chairs which sat at the back of the workshop. She sat quietly, facing her servant and beckoning him forth. What point was there in conducting business while standing? The night was still young, and they had much to sort out. Yes, this was to be a fruitful evening indeed.

[Koschei the Deathless]

Honest and direct. Cold and professional. It seemed his summoner was completely opposite to that woman. Excellent. He had looked further, listening to her words, but observing her. She knew his name… But there was no fear within her, like within most mortals when they had learned it. No hesitation. Not so much as a shudder. “Brave… or foolish.” The Servant muttered. It mattered little, but it was pleasing. Her characteristic of him inflicted an emotion most strange. Joy? Amusement? Mirth? An odd feeling, to be sure, one that made the muscles upon his face move in a way that was long-forgotten. The corner of his mouth had twitched, slightly, in the blackness beneath his visor.

The deathless monster’s shoulders shook.

First, it had been but a tremble, gaining further and further momentum, until they shook, just as an odd, dry sound, rang out, repeating over and over: Koschei had been laughing. A disturbing, bizarre sight, something that should not have ever been heard – but it had existed regardless. It was a cruel sound, although the chill in it had not been one that made in insincere. It was simply hard to comprehend, difficult to interpret and understand. The very nature of its source, after all, had not been human after all… But this woman before him? Perhaps she could understand. After all, within her eyes shined the same dead light that brought no warmth.

“Then I say: the contract is hereby established, Elfrida Swarzwald” Names were important. She had been right there. Completing of a contract as powerful as this required of her name. “…All I shall ask of you is four simple things: Do not seek dominion over me. Do not reveal my name or identity. Do not follow in the footsteps of my foolish wife… and maintain your honest and direct attitude with me, instead of attempting to manipulate me. Follow these rules, woman, and I shall bring you victory. Break them, and I will bring you your heart instead. I trust we are on a leyline?” He could feel power, but identifying one would take time. Time he did not have.

“Indeed we are.”

”Very well.”Muttered the witcher. Raising his voice, he spoke again. ”You gave me your word… So now I am giving you mine.”

[Wrath of the Lich King Theme]

A black-gauntleted hand rose, light oddly reflecting and breaking a short distance above it, fist closed over something… and soon enough it became clear enough just what it had been: a clear, crystalline ‘object’ that Caster held had obscured the light of the candles, breaking it. A cold wind picked up once more, and with it came snow. As the chill crept throughout the room, the object that the dark knight held had become clouded, and soon, the blade and cross-guard of a cruelly shaped shortsword was visible. The sword lit with an unearthly green flame, as the Servant swept it before him, as if slicing something top to bottom. There was a sound of shattering ice, and a single line hanging in the air, about two meters tall, edges alight with greenish flame that produced no warmth. Without a second’s hesitation, the knight took a single step forward, ignoring the offered chair, the black steel boot’s fall sending small frozen droplets into the air. In the same motion, he had jammed first his left, than his right hand directly into where the line had been brightest, the right above the left…

…And pulled in opposite directions.

The air cracked as if it was glass, thousands of line spreading throughout it, the storm growing colder and stronger the more he had pulled, bursts of snow flying through, but along with them, green leaves. Shards of reality rained all around the Servant, but he had ignored them, insistently and mercilessly tugging at the rip in reality. With a pained groan, it parted ever so slightly, the green flames spreading to the cracks so that the entire room had been illuminated. The cracks spread beyond, into the darkness of the ceiling, but did not seem to be affected by it, as they could be seen going beyond it without disturbing it. A veritable nexus of power had begun to weave itself together in the middle of the room, expanding, silvery chains shooting out, latching onto anything and everything, stabilizing itself. Another gauntleted arm rose, taking hold of something, followed by the other. This time, it did not seem like Caster was trying to do anything to the room… But instead, something not yet there.

Arms. Many pairs of armored arms burst forth from the slit in the air, ripping it open mercilessly, grabbing hold of the edges in an orderly, almost methodical way. It was almost as if they mirrored the directions of the Servant’s own arms, as the ones on the left emerged when his own hand grasped at an invisible something, and likewise for the other, all perfectly synchronized. Caster brought his hands together as clapping them…. And then wrenched them violently apart. The effect was akin to a curtain at an opera hall ripping top to bottom, the cracks finally bursting, the hole that was there once now a spreading, hungering maw that sped towards the still knight and the girl seated in the chair, spreading by the walls, the ceiling, the floor, a murky darkness lit by flashes of a cold green flame, dancing upon the black armor.

[Catalysm Theme]

The basement no longer existed. The objects within the room remained, but the walls, the ceiling, they were there no longer. There was a door… but nothing else. The pair of them, Master and Servant, stood atop a green hill overlooking a dark, storming sea, with waves as tall as six stories crashing about. The stars had been obscured, there was no moon, the random flashes of lightning the only illumination that existed. Once more, Caster stepped fourth, raising his forearms as if a maestro who had turned to is orchestra… and slowly, he had lowered them. As he had done so the elements were soothed: the sea quieted, the raging roar of the waters now a purr. The blizzard had abated, now simply a pleasant cool wind, with the occasional snowflake falling. The clouds parted, revealing the sapphire sky, behind which, just at the edge of waters, the sun had been rising.

Without any further gestures, the Servant stepped into seemingly thin air, as the ground parted, shaping itself into wide, rough, stone steps. As he did so, he beckoned the woman to follow him, his cape dragging itself along the ground… but he did not seem to care. Having reached shore, he held up one arm pointing it in the direction of a large blackened object in the horizon, and closed the fingers into a fist, then slowly bending it in the elbow, and sweeping it out before him in a broad motion. There was a roar and a sound like the scraping of stone on stone, and fountains of water issuing in a row, until the very horizon, falling as soon as they appeared. What they left behind, however, were constructs that closely resembled flat teeth, grayish in tone. Upon them, on either side, stood a row of columns, overgrown with vines that had somehow sprouted there. Without further ado, Koschei stepped upon the first segment of the marble bridge, followed by Elfrida, and allowed a thick coating of ice to form beneath their feet: a platform to stand upon, which, with a light touch of the wind from behind, had slid forward, picking up speed as it went.

As they picked up speed, and the dark object in the distance had become visible, its contours clearer by the second, it was now apparent just what it was: a gigantic island, surrounded by steep cliffs, atop which stood a fortified castle… no. It was not a castle, but an entire small city, sheltered within the island’s reaches. The castle had been ancient, but it had been… odd. Overgrown with vines and plant life in places, frozen with ice in others. As Koschei passed them, old banners came to life, proudly clapping in the winds. Thirty-one armored men, veritable giants at two and a half meters tall, neutral of face, clad in black steel armor, saluted the knight, who paid their salute little attention. He had stopped for mere seconds, stepping off the platform before the large, two-door gateway, which he waited for the giants to unbar and push open, where the last one had waited, upon one knee, his helm possessing a closed visor similar to the Servant’s, a mantle upon his shoulders. He leaned on his massive blade in submission, even as his rumbling voice spoke a greeting:

“Welcome back… My King.”

”I have returned, Captain. We shall now wage war. Kill anyone who appears, unless it is one of my forms, of this … woman. The rest of the instructions about the sacred grove remain the same.” He passed him without any further orders, heading up to the spiral staircase.

“As you wish, my King.” The giant smacked his fist against his chest, waiting until Koschei and the girl had walked away to rise, before walking out to his troops, the gates shutting closed. Only for a mere second did the Servant look upwards, where in the distance, a bit of greenery was visible that was NOT vines or overgrowth. To his eyes, the great, ancient oak, branches bound in chains, was clearly visible, as was the chest upon it, and the ice and snow upon its green leaves. Turning way, he made it to the top of the tower rather quickly, where a long audience chamber lay before him, and directed his steps to a large throne made of black stone, with little to no decoration. Sitting in it, he idly gestured to the smaller, more comfortable looking one that stood to the left of the one he had taken, propping his chin up with his elbow. ”Welcome to my Temple... To the Isle of Buyan, upon the Tridevyatoe Tzarstvo. Sit down. That throne was meant for another, but it holds no meaning now as it did before. But before that… I suppose this form would be more comfortable for dealings in the new World.”

His voice changed, as the darkness upon the throne rippled, the armor obscuring itself, swimming in contours as if a fresh watercolor painting that had been splashed with a great deal of water. There had been a series of cracking sounds, and when the blur had cleared, there, upon the throne, leg upon leg, sat a much different figure: a girl aged perhaps the same as Elfrida, a slight cackle upon ‘her’ face, teeth bared in mirth. ‘She’ wore* thigh high white socks, supported by blue belts circling ‘her’ legs, blue boots and pleated skirt. ‘Her’ torso bore a breastplate overlaid with white cloth, and ‘she’ seemed to be wearing blue-white gloves that went almost up to ‘her’ shoulders. Upon ‘her’ shoulders there was a white mantle and cape, and ‘her’ hair had been oddly bluish in color as well. With some irritation, ‘she’ ran ‘her’ hand through it, and it had turned black. Only the eyes had remained the same: the same cold, emerald eyes, that stayed despite the smile. Perhaps the Servant could not change them… Or, more likely, he simply did not wish to.

”On to introductions once more then, shall we? I believe it wise for us to refer to each other using other names or titles that we bear by right. I am a capable illusionist, and could mask many things. For example…” ‘she’ tapped ‘her’ chin in idle thought, the entire posture and manner of speech changing. ”Aha~ this damn shot glass is telling me that ‘Neri’ seems to fit best… ‘Black’ in Italian, you see.” ‘She’ laughed, a sound of silver bells so unlike the course, alien sounds that were emitted when Koschei laughed. As she did, the mantle, too, had become dark. “Yes. Call me Neri. I’d rather not have my identity found. And you? What shall I address you as~? Ahh. And perhaps, you should also inform me as to what your arsenal and style are like, so I could manufacture some tools for you. Would hate for such an agreeable homunculus to die so soon, after all~ Hmm! Aha! And after all…” Her eyes narrowed, smile widening and becoming a predatory, for a second the tone becoming closer to the old personality Koschei had.

”Just WHAT is your wish, I wonder…?”

*Basically… This: img32.imageshack.us/img32/6987/coverface.jpg

[Elfrida Schwarzwald]

Caster's conditions were fair... for the most part anyhow. This was a partnership after all, and if it were to ever flourish, they needed to be honest and direct. Neither participants of the contract had any need to seek dominion over the other, but good business was good business in the end. If this relationship proved to become detrimental to her goals, then she would take the necessary steps to ensure the balance tipped in her favor. After all, in this war, the one who comes out on top is the one who thinks ahead, and the future looked to be grim indeed. The white homonculus gave a curt nod in agreement to her shadowy servant and informed him of their current placement as requested. The estate was built on a Leyline specifically for situations such as this. It was good to see that the Schwarzwalds investment was finally seeing some pay off.


The face of the earth seemed to shake with every movement that this dark creature made, his power flowing like an ancient font with no filter to hold back it's unlimited strength. Elfrida watched in silent anticipation as she awaited every display of power her Servant made, expecting more after each movement. The metaphor of a conductor was indeed fitting to Caster's actions. The world was but a stage, and everything on it a member of the chorus which he conduct, but rather than shape their voices, he shaped their very existence. The very air before them crumbled into oblivion with but a slice of his mysterious and fiery blade, and her impression of the ancient magician grew ever more positive as she watched him rend the world apart and bring them into a new one. What was once her family summer home crumbled away into an unfamiliar environment.

Still seated in her ornate chair, the white magus spectated in silent wonder at the world around her. A dead hilltop surrounded by crashing waves from an unknown sea, a stormy sky harboring the destructive power of the gods wrath, and off in the distance, a grand structure which exuded more power than anything else in this alien world. But with a silent wave of her servants hand, the waves quieted, the skies halted their rancor, and the structure before them seemed to grow closer. It was... exhilarating to say the least. The only tether to what was once her world were the instruments and furniture which remained from her now missing workshop. But such things were dwarfed by the understanding of where they were. This was beyond a workshop, this was Caster's stronghold... his temple.

With a gesture from her servant, Elfrida rose from her now seemingly small chair and followed behind the black clad beast. They walked on ancient crags risen from the ocean, a feat not even the Schwarzwald could achieve in all their research into the art of Earth Thaumaturgy. With that thought, envy could be felt in her chest, but the homonculus killed it like all other unnecessary emotion. She kept pace with her partner, observing the world around her with curiosity and calculation. This was an excellent base of operations, no doubt about that. No enemy would dare attack the duo in this place of power, which Caster commanded with such ease.

The castle which the two found themselves in was far grander than Elfrida had ever imagined it to be. But what was more fascinating were those that occupied its interior. Thirty-one giants, clad in dark armor and armed with deadly weapons, all of whom Koschei the deathless commanded. Their leader bowed to him as if his very existence hung by a thread to the black servant, and it most likely did. Elfrida took note of these beings as the guardians of this site, and that should they ever fall, their opponent would be a true adversary in the coming war. But that was for the future to decide, not something to worry about in the present. Elfrida gave them a silent nod of acknowledgement and followed Caster into the interior of the castle.

The audience chamber was nothing new in grandeur compared to the rest of the castle, but still worthy of note like everything else. Elfrida felt small compared to the towering giants and the grand rooms that could be found throughout Casters tower. Still, at least the chairs were her size. Elfrida took a seat in the smaller throne her servant left her and spectated silently. She hadn't expected him to change his shape, but what else was new? Throughout their entire encounter, Koschei the Deathless proved to be far more than any records had captured of him. So the homonculus remained silent, watching with hidden interest as the once tall armor clad demon changed into a contrasting form. A girl in blue and white, but still holding a twisted gleam in her eyes that she recognized in her servant.

Introductions continued as before, though now in an environment much more comfortable to her servant than to Elfrida herself. He... she.. it began to explain its abilities casually, and brought up the concept of an alias. Names were indeed power for them, weren't they? Following that logic, it was perhaps best to join "Neri" in this charade. The white magus gave a small yet cold smile, her eyes regarding the female form before her in a manner that was impossible to read. 

"If you would go by such a name, then perhaps it would be more interesting if we stuck to a theme. I shall be Bianca then, Italian for White. It will be in contrast to your own."

Permitting herself a small giggle, the homonculus returned to her cold business like manner. Now it was time to move on to the center of their alliance. How best would these two beings work together in order to achieve victory? All cards needed to be laid on the table if this were to work in their favor.

"As you may well know, the age of magic has passed in favor of technology. The standard magi can no longer achieve what those of your age could. However, as a Homonculus, I have been afforded some power above the common mage."

Elfrida couldn't help but feel a poor taste accumulate in her mouth thinking about it. Her power was a reminder that she was indeed different from everyone in more ways than just station. Such an isolating feeling it was, but nonetheless, it was what made her... well... her.

"I am a Homonculus with well over fifteen-hundred units of Prana, and I am a practitioner of Alchemy as well as jewel magecraft, the manipulation of prana within ancient jewels for power. Combining these two with an expertise in fencing, and I am quite capable of holding my own against other mages." 

There was some pride in her words that time. Elfrida was always proud of her ability to hold a sword. Her father, the previous head of the Schwarzwald family, had trained her in the art of the sword when she was still only a few years old. It was one of the few things left to remember him by.

"My magic is very prana efficient and should be no problem in the face of my reserves. As for my arsenal, I carry a blade custom made to carry jewels and use their properties in combat. To summarize, you need not worry about me in most combat situations unless the situation is dire."

 ”Just WHAT is your wish, I wonder…?”

That was a questing which Elfrida had expected for a while now. They were both fighting for a wish granting machine after all. To be honest, it was hard to encompass all she desired in one single wish. So much had happened to her in the last year that she just couldn't decide on what was the best course of action. 

"I suppose... in the end, I merely wish to live. There's still so much to do, and yet the entire world I know is baring down, seeking to obstruct me and drag me to the depths of oblivion. That's why I will acquire the grail, and use its power to eliminate all obstacles in my path to achieving what I was born to... I will be the one to go where all magi have reached towards for so long, and the grail will be my sword and shield in that struggle."

[Koschei the Deathless]

"If you would go by such a name, then perhaps it would be more interesting if we stuck to a theme. I shall be Bianca then, Italian for White. It will be in contrast to your own."


Koschei listened with interest to his summoner’s commentary. He found it somewhat amusing that merely altering his shape had also altered his reception of certain things – he realized full well that had he been in his natural body, he would have merely nodded with a certain lack of expression, instead of cackling at the humor in the white haired girl’s words. He attempted to recall when he first began to alter his behavior depending on form, and to his surprise, could not recall a time when he hadn’t acted in such a way that fit the shape of his body, instead of his mind. Perhaps, he reasoned, it had been due in party due to Yaga’s training – she had once tossed a very snide comment that he had been the most unwolf-like wolf she ever saw.

A wolf was a wolf, she laughed: not a human; and if he was ever to achieve any sort of mastery of this, it had to be a more natural shift. A wolf could not act human for it would not survive, no more that a human could act like a wolf. Each organism was adapted to its role and environment. A shift halfway broke the synergy that the transformation was meant to naturally create. Humans were more difficult, and Yaga scoffed when he had tried to turn into them – in her view, that was needlessly complex and unworthy. The old hag never did think much of the human race. Then again, he recalled, the child-face smile growing colder: neither did he. How fortunate that his partner did not have the doubtful honor of being one. The fact that she had been more powerful had been taken as a natural factor: after all, a being that had the claim to power, would not have been able to summon him. The fact that humans were slowly losing their grasp on power also concerned him little. It had been expected. Degeneration had set in, what else could be expected of them?

“’White’, is it… Heh. Very well. Continue.”

As ‘Bianca’ continued, the witcher noted the strengths and capabilities she presented: it would be foolish of her to hide anything from him as his victory was her victory. He hoped she would comprehend this… But she had been a woman who despite being quite reasonable thus far, still belonged to the fairer sex, and as such, could not be trusted entirely. Still.. This arrangement she gave was far more promising than those he had in the past. She certainly did not resemble that woman… He could not say for certain if that was enough or not. From early observations, this one seemed far too upfront cold and logical to be as treacherous and deceptive as the others he’d had experience with, and the notes of pride as she mentioned her skills rang true. But who knew? He would continue to observe.

Nodding at her description of her skills, her merely bade her to continue with a light wave of his (her?) hand. Her possession of a large (for an artificial vessel) supply of prana had been quite welcome – it would mean he could count on her to provide all he required for his Phantasms and spells. Alchemy… Was not a combat art, but it could have been quite useful utility-wise. He was not under any impression, of course, that anything that had been born during the age of men would be able produce anything sufficiently impactful to change the course of the war but… who knew. He had underestimated the trickery of women and the brash stubborn recklessness of men before. The girl upon the throne smiled, somewhat coldly, contrasting with the otherwise happy look upon her face. A frozen shadow passing a summer landscape, reminding the living of the cold finality of winter that would come for them.

When the woman had finished with her skills and explained her wish… Well, ‘Neri’ could not help but toss her head back and laugh. Truly… how comical. How coincidental. How revoltingly amusing and tragic. It seemed like this was the Grail’s way to remind the Deathless of his own origins and bring him back down to earth from the clouds. But ah… It had been unnecessary. His laugh had been an odd one, sincere and fitting of a girl that he had transformed into, yet in such bizarre contrast with the rest of the room, and the truth of the being that had taken this shape. Shaking his (her?) head, Koschei spoke at last:

“You must forgive me, Bianca. I was not laughing at your wish – merely marveling at what I seem to be forced to accept as ‘Fate’. Truly, you would have summoned me either way, Catalyst or not.”

The girl rose from her throne, and walked into the center of the room, waving her hands in excitement, as if cutting someone with them. “You are cold, but not without humor, not human, and a swordswoman. Your wish is to live, and the only way it shall happen is the Third Magic! You lay claim to your prize, and announce you will eliminate all in your path! Do you not see that all these things mirror my life?! Truly… Amusing.”

He stopped, turning back to her, now entirely calm and collected: ”Well, Bianca. Since your strengths lie in swordsmanship.. let us play to that strength. I shall fashion you a weapon and armor befitting of one who has summoned me. Perhaps various other armaments… I shall then imbue you with mine own power, and after that, while I kill these… slaves the other magi summon, who have no respect for themselves and call themselves ‘Servants’… You shall slay their Masters. If you have your own ideas for item, say them. Just be warned; my Item Creation skill, while high, is slightly cursed. Nothing to worry about, but we shall see the result.”

Koschei paused, voice returning to that of his old self despite the form being shifted, generating an even more morbid contrast… But this felt important enough to break the transformation:

”I ask that you remember only one thing, woman. It doesn’t matter whom becomes your enemy. Should all the world attempt to drag you to oblivion, as you claim… then all the world that wishes so shall perish. The survivors will learn… or die to educate those that remain. Do not hesitate. Do not balk at that which must be done. That is all.”

[Elfrida Schwarzwald]

The female figure which Elfrida addressed was as much in contrast in personality to the black knight as she was in appearance. It made the homonculus consider for a moment whether this was truly Koschei the deathless with whom she was speaking to and not some deranged familiar to distract her from the true Caster. That line of thought was eliminated though, dropped in order to solidify her confidence in the being she placed her trust in. Whatever form that "Neri" took, they would still be her avenging sword in this war of theirs. At least this new form was not without a sense of humor. Despite their less than human natures, the two were able to share a similar appreciation for the comedic in a way that others so unfortunately lacked. It was good, being able to share a laugh with someone she would be spilling the blood of others with. A small silver lining in the grim darkness of war.

Elfrida's strung her words together, meeting Neri's curiosity with thorough explanation and sincerity. Still, the homonculus was taken aback by the sudden laughter which broke the grim atmosphere of Koschei's temple. Her (His?) feminine giggles echoed throughout the throne room and unsettled the mood like a knife cutting out ones heart with precision. Elfrida tilted her head and waited for an explanation, unsure what the being before her found so amusing. 

“You must forgive me, Bianca. I was not laughing at your wish – merely marveling at what I seem to be forced to accept as ‘Fate’. Truly, you would have summoned me either way, Catalyst or not.”

Was that truly so? Elfrida knew of Koschei's tale, but her short eleven years of living had never given her any true insight into her own being, nor any comprehension of an existence who's life resembled her own. Elfrida spectated silently as Neri excitedly compared their lives, mirroring them even. It was... refreshing, really. To think that only now when destruction loomed beyond would the homonculus find someone who could appreciate her, understand her existence to such a degree. It was like a child who had known nothing but loneliness making their first friend. It was only for a moment, but "Bianca" had to stifle her mirth. What an unfamiliar yet grand feeling.

They continued their conversation for a while longer yet, Elfrida listening to his offer and thinking of her current armory. The homonculus was plentiful in jewels to suit her needs, but the idea of a new weapon and armor... well that was an interesting thought. Her current blade, the jeweled rapier Edelstein, was a ceremonial blade. The last gift of her father before his eventual death. Death because even she, a sheltered being, knew that the clock tower sealing designation was but another equal to the concept of the end, an absence of life. There was some discomfort in the thought of abandoning his final gift for a weapon of greater power, but it had to be done, did it not? Anything to win this Holy Grail War.

"For now, we may settle for a weapon and armor fitting of our needs. There would be no profit to craft items without specific circumstance  and we have much knowledge to gather in the coming days. Craft me a blade that will cut away all obstacles and reject all enemy advancement. Let no mortal weapon nor defense be able to withstand it's bite."

In return for her request, Neri made one of her own, her voice that of the true Caster.

"Do not hesitate. Do not balk at that which must be done. That is all.”

Elfrida looked the girlish figure in the eyes, cold and understanding, without a seconds hesitation replying...


"Without question."