CHAPTER 3

Location: Kvaisa town. Time: 7:20PM. Date: 6th August 2008.

Timothy Balakhadze. A regular lieutenant recently promoted to the magical frontal unit. At the time of relocation from the front-lines, his superior said something that stuck within his mind.

"Trust the magi... with them your life is better guaranteed than here in front..."

Crackle...

{Then how'd it end up like this...sir...}

The young lieutenant could barely see. His vision swam in and out of focus, but it hardly mattered. 

For all around him was nothing but the bright colour red.

Red blood, red flames, red flayed flesh, red molten stone. It was a painting of nothing but hell incarnate, a true masterpiece of a sadistic artist.

{Why...}

Timothy asked this question without moving his lips. How could he, when he even wondered if his lower half was functioning anymore? After all, he had taken a direct hit of that holy golden light.

Painfully, Timothy recalled the past three hours that had led to the end of his life.

They had received an order. Together with another unit, they were to recapture Kvaisa town to the north. They had even been guaranteed magic support at the appropriate time. 

At 5:45 PM, the operation took place and the joint units moved to reoccupy Kvaisa town. 

When they had radioed air support for visual confirmation a mere 6 kilometres from the target, they had been informed everything seemed secure. The town looked abandoned and resistance seemed minor.

Of course, this operation had only been authorized because enemy forces had supposedly moved west. Leaving behind this town and the corpses of countless Georgian citizens. 

The town held little relevance, but the corpses were to be retrieved.

The joint units came across the town and, much to their delight, it had been abandoned as expected. 

Moving together with them was a convoy of small trucks to carry the corpses. The army would tolerate no theft, but the soldiers hardly cared for it. After all, the people who once lived here were their fellow countrymen and women. They carried out their duty with an air of responsibility and care.

Then suddenly 'It' struck.

Timothy could still see it. A brilliant gold in the never-ending sea of red.

Only one word came to his mind as he gazed at that serene beauty of a figure clad in a white, holy aura emanating from their very being.

{Angel... one of God's angels killed us...}

His thoughts slowly drifted further and further. Thoughts of his family, home and how life used to be not even 4 months ago. Was his death really going to be so unimpressive? So minor and unrewarding?

He never got his answer as that 'Angel' moved once again and the world went black.

*******************************************

Location: Tbilisi. Time: 9:02 PM. Date: 6th August 2008.

Alyza was in a dilemma.

She sat at the dining table and was chomping down on an easily made ham and cheese sandwich. It was simple and didn't take too much time, which was ideal for one with a personality like Alyza.

And so with 'supposedly' saved effort, she was busy contemplating many, many things.

{Master, this house is really big. Do you truly live here by yourself?}

{Indeed.}

Quick answers, a common trait Alyza acquired growing up. To many, such a characteristic would be considered haughty. But Archer Of West took it in stride.

{Hmmmm~}

Alyza was busy scribbling onto a blank sheet with ink and quill. One could observe random scribbles with no clear outline such as 'Anne' or 'Mary' or 'true noble phantasm?'. Watching her from the side was a short, beautiful girl with hair as white as snow and an air just as cold.

The girl was Alyza's servant, but unlike her other half, she seemed to stick around the master. Quiet and silent as stone.

Alyza hardly cared, but that silent stare was rather disturbing...

{Archer. I wish to have you here for a very important discussion.}

{But Master~ I'm already here.}

In that instant, the other half of Alyza's servant took form in the seat beside her. Golden hair, red pirate robes that seemed to hug every beautiful curve of the woman wearing them, and brilliant blue eyes. On her face was a smug smile, like a cheerful fox.

But somehow the servant's smile left Alyza irritated.

"I believe you're aware of the rules of this war."

Alyza started her discussion with a light note as she placed down the quill she had been holding. In response, both halves of Archer kept silent and simply continued to observe their master.

"Conflicts are set to begin in 2 days. That's what the Association informed me. However..."

Alyza knitted her brows. Clearly, what she was to say next left her irritated, but the information needed to be shared. It was important that her servant be aware, after all.

"Our saber. That is, the Saber Of West... has already been defeated."

**************************************************************

The rules of the Great Grail War were simple.

There were two factions at the beginning, the East and the West.

Each faction is allocated 7 magi, and each magus is granted a servant. The servants are, in turn, granted vessels in order to stay within this world through the efforts of the magi and the power of the Great Grail.

These vassals are in the form of 7 possible 'classes'. Saber. Archer. Lancer. Rider. Caster. Assassin. And Berserker.

By the normal conditions of a holy grail war, each master and their servant is to battle with other masters and servants until only they remain in order to obtain the holy grail.

But something had interfered with this war from the start.

Alyza hated to think about it, but the more she thought, the more she agreed with herself the odds were against them.

The faction of the West had already lost their Saber. Historically, the strongest class. 

According to the correspondence she had received, she was to remain stationary until further notice.

Alyza Lohmus had been the last master of the West to summon her servant. She had yet to even come up with her strategy before the news had arrived.

Naturally, she shared all this with her servant Archer, who simply took it in silence. Once sharing her information was done, Alyza simply shrugged helplessly.

"Of course, I don't intend to let the loss of a saber affect our future strategies to win, but I do think it's wise to be cautious. We're in Tbilisi, more of the outskirts really, but within the capital of this country. Our faction has turned the city into a stronghold for all magi. That includes me as a master."

But the circumstances were dangerous. The loss of their saber was the loss of a powerful ally. As far as Alyza knew, it was now 7 against 6 when the war was yet to even begin.

Alyza feared her chances of winning, but these thought were kept to herself. 

She then proceeded to give her orders to her servant. A steady voice filled with calm and resolve.

"Archer, I will need to know everything about you. With this moment of calm, I want to know every detail, true names of your noble phantasms, skills, magic, and so on. Once the war begins, I fear any other chance would fail to be as favourable as right now, so let us be done with it."

Archer Of West, both halves, glanced at their master calmly before nodding.

And so the official strategy meeting of the Archer of West begun.

******************************************************

Location: ???. Time 7:20PM. Date 6th August 2008.

"I ask of thee... are you my master?"

The voice was gruff and strong as the figure it came from. A man built like a divine god and with a presence to match.

The person to whom he posed the question was a mouse in comparison, but with just as much authority, they said.

"Indeed. I am your summoner, thus I am your master."

"Then our contract is complete. I am the servant Saber of East. It is an honour, my master."

Honor-bound, that was the only way to describe the servant as he took a sweeping bow before his master. The presence of a god dissipated away in an instant to give form to the air of a knight.

Saber Of East.

Hair as black as coal and spiked. Dark blue intricate armor and white robes tied around his waist. With beautiful black and gold patterns. But most noticeably, a small black mole grew right under his right eye. A charm and elegance unprecedented stemmed from his knightly being, perhaps solely because of that mole.

Whatever effect it was supposed to have, however, failed to work upon this servant's master.

Despite her feminity.

Three deep red intricate patterns were sketched in the centre of her right palm. They signified her identity as a master just as much as the servant before her.

With this new saber, the servants of East had fully assembled.

At the thought of this, the woman smiled. A cruel smile that only added to her unsettling presence.

The magus Margaret Parshiv was ready to begin the Great Holy Grail War.