999999/The Mean Streets of Chicago

The Mean Streets of Chicago
Date of Scene:	19 October 2014
Location:	Chicago
Synopsis:	Four allies meet with two strangers of the Holy Grail War in Chicago.
Cast of Characters:	253, 346, 482, Sir Gawain
Tinyplot:	Fate/Maelstrom

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Sir Gawain has posed:
Welcome to Chicago, but in the 80s! 1987, to be exact. It's a warm day, and this being Sir Gawain's home and particularly not a very busy day, he has decided to do something extraordinary and world-changing.

Introduce Sir Bedivere to deep-dish pizza.

Which is why the Knight of the Sun is outside a pizza place, getting a patio table in order to enjoy the day and all the cheesy, saucy goodness that is pizza. He's invited both his king, Arturia, and his Master, Psyber, as well, because pizza is something that needs to be shared amongst a group, and there's also the chance of weird shit going down, now that the Grail War has officially commenced.

Clad in a gray jacket, which he puts over the back of his chair as he sits, revealing a white t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans, Gawain begins to order the biggest serving size they have. Possibly multiple quantities of it.

Just a good, old fashioned, drama-free day.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
The finer points of the decades escapes those who lived over a thousand years before it.

Any world which can describe itself as reasonably modern by particular standards is still well beyond the understanding of the Left Hand of the King. Alone among his brethren, Sir Bedivere of the Round Table is mortal. He's been forced to adapt the old-fashioned way, without the inherent understanding that a Servant is given of the era they've been summoned into. He knows little about such societies, and that includes their food, which Gawain has taken it upon himself to introduce Bedivere to today.

Thanks to Loros' gift, Bedivere arrives in good health, today. There are no shadows under his eyes, and he doesn't move with the stiffness or slow deliberation of healing wounds. He's dressed simply in a dark button-down dress shirt and black slacks, with matching black shoes. The monochrome ensemble only seems to accentuate his pale complexion, drawing out the colour of the red stone stud in his left ear, and the violet of his eyes. Neither does he wear gloves to hide the vibrant red of the knotwork command seal on his left hand.

He slips into one of the empty chairs, greeting Gawain with an inclination of his head and a half-smile. Despite his casual appearance, he seems just a little uneasy – though whether from the nearly crippling level of noise and bustle of the big city, or from knowing he's come into a world hosting a War of the Holy Grail with that mark on his left hand, it's hard to say.

He might as well have painted a red and white target on his back.

"Brother," he says warmly, settling into his chair as comfortably as he can. "Thank you for the invitation."

Psyber (253) has posed:
Psyber has managed to peel some time away from his usual 84 hour work week for the Union to come have some pizza. A New Englander, he is not the full fan of the Chicago-style deep dish pizza, much preferring the far superior New York Thin Crust. Still, he'd show up to provide moral support and at least some semblance of company for the meeting.

The half-angel is dressed in his usual attire of dark slacks, dark shirt, and a long coat. Along with this is a black ball cap atop his head and a pair of black gloves on his hands. He has a beer in his hands, something local, "Gawain. Bedivere." He says to the two men as he drops down into a seat at the table.

Overall, he's simply taking in the pizzeria with a slow turning of his red eyes across the area, careful to keep on guard, but not too worried about being attacked. He has a relative confidence that he can match or surpass most Servants in a direct conflict, which many participants in the War would not expect from a Master.

Saber (346) has posed:
Among the information of the current era which had been imparted to Arturia Pendragon – one of several Saber-class Servants in the multiverse at present – only the most pertinent of information was relayed. A vague understanding of the current technology which might have affected the outcome of the Fourth Holy Grail War, legends of past and present and their strengths and weaknesses, and an equally vague understanding of general history to better blend in with the current era. The Holy Grail had apparently not deemed 'Chicago deep dish' as a priority. Instead, the petite blonde had heard of it much the same way most of the era's denizens had; word-of-mouth.

Harry Dresden, wizard of another iteration of Chicago but no less touched by magic and the supernatural – had found that his frequent knightly consultant had been quite easy to pay in the form of treating her to the 'Chicago deep dish' that she had heard so much about. The Saber had not been disappointed. From that point on, whatever errands or miscellaneous tasks the modern wizard had needed her help on were quickly paid off with a few choice large pizzas. She might have been one of the least-expensive of Dresden's consultants.

It therefore had not come as much of a surprise that the Knight of the Sun had soon discovered it as well, given the base of the Heaven's Feel he had been summoned to. The city, she noted, had quite a number of differences – the level of technology seemed to be slightly behind Dresden's Chicago and even the Fuyuki City of her time-line. However, it seemed the multiverse-famous dish has well pre-dated them.

She had dressed slightly down in the familiar grey dress shirt with the top button undone, black slacks and brown loafers with her hair pulled back into an unassuming low ponytail, but had apparently left the jacket, vest, and tie behind. Even then, the jade-eyed knight might have been some cause for confusion for anyone attempting to discern her gender. Her adornment might have hinted at it; not the peculiar bracelets at her wrists, but the single stud of red jasper affixed to her right earlobe. She appeared not long after first Bedivere's and then Psyber's entrance, having the need to find an inconspicuous – not to mention legal – place to park her V-Max. The slight smile on her usually impassive face hinted at both her familiarity with the gathered men...or simply perhaps that there was the promise of an agreeable meal.

"Greetings," she replied as she took a seat, conspicuously refraining from addressing Gawain by name to protect his identity and opting to address all so as not to make that fact too obvious. "Thank you for your invitation."

Sir Gawain has posed:
As Sir Bedivere comes up, Sir Gawain notices his anxiety, smiling at his Knight-Brother with one of his usual big, dopey grins. "Brother! For a while, I thought you wouldn't show up. Pizza is quite daunting, after all.~". He chuckles a small bit, before anxiously looking towards the kitchen, even though the food is probably nowhere near ready, with what a huge-ass order they have.

Psyber then arrives, receiving a similar smile from Sir Gawain. "Psyber, I am glad you could have made it. It is a nice day, no? Pizza, sunshine, possibly alcohol. Mead, perhaps?~". A grinning, mischievous glance is shot at Bedivere. Gawain is never going to let that go.

Finally, Arturia arrives. Another warm, happy smile is passed along, as he greets her as well. "I am glad you have arrived, my ki- Arturia.". Gawain doesn't seem quite happy to address her by name, but he's trying to play it safe. Enemies knowing the identity of Bedivere or his king could harm him, though the name Arturia itself is unlikely to raise much attention. Though, Psyber already basically outed them anyways, but perhaps no one heard him!

More people are shuffling towards the patio. A family of five taking a table, a group of teenagers cutting through the patio to the restaurant itself, and a man and his teenaged son heading towards a table not far from the Knights.

"I have ordered a bit of different toppings, so there's different flavors to try if you like. ..I hope we don't have to merge tables, because it seems no more are free now."

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Although not precisely worried, it's clear that the marshal remains watchful. As Arturia makes her appearance, he visibly relaxes a little, but he still makes a point of scanning the sidewalk and its crowds. It's second nature for him to maintain watch over his surroundings. He would have been an inefficient marshal and Left Hand of the King if he hadn't.

His own hair is drawn into a single half-braided queue, some of it left to fall over his face where it's too short to be confined. It's a bit less formal than his usual appearance, but enough to keep it out of his eyes. They flick to Gawain when the Knight of the Sun speaks.

"It has nothing to do with the pizza," he states with an apologetic half-smile. It doesn't take much to figure out why he's reluctant to be here, even for somebody as unassuming as the king's nephew. Bedivere is a Master – but he has no interest in the Holy Grail, and less interest in the ritualised blood sport necessary to obtain it.

"I mislike such large cities," he says quietly. "I am an outsider here. And I find my tolerance for such things lacking, after..." He trails off, shaking his head. "My apologies. We are here for a happier occasion than to reflect on such dark things."

He doesn't clarify whether he means an anachronism, or an intruder as a Master, by outsider.

The pale-haired knight affords a polite nod to Psyber when the half-angel shows up, but doesn't seem to have much to say, otherwise.

"Mead? I think such things are uncommon in worlds like these," he states lightly. "Beer and wine are more commonly found, are they not? But no, I will have water, thank you. I have been in this multiverse for some months, now, and I still find it strange that the water is so safe to drink."

Psyber (253) has posed:
"I'll pass on the pizza. Chicago-style isn't my preferred method of pizza, and I'm not terribly fond of it," Psyber says absently, tilting back the beer in his hand absent-mindedly to take a long swig from it. He yawns slightly and watches as people shuffle through the pizzeria.

"Mead will show up in specialty bars, but isn't exactly common in this day and age, no," Psyber says in a sort of distracted tone. Luckily this Chicago is in the 1980s, which means it's not against the law when he takes out a cigarette and lights it, flicking some ash into a tray on the table, "Water also depends on where you go. There are places where the water is just as unsafe as it ever was," He adds.

"Mm, you guys should really be careful around Loros, by the way. I keep hearing reports of him hanging around your castle. I know you're bound by Brehon Law, which is very important. He takes law and rule literally, with no honor to intent, and purely literally. It means that he will do exactly as he says, and nothing more than that. It makes him very dangerous unless you consider his hidden meanings behind all actions," He cautions to Bedivere, looking a bit concerned as he thinks over the topic, "He is a lawyer, and while he will uphold a deal, he will not honor it any further than necessary. Be careful if he asks to reside in your fortress permanently."

He takes another drag from the cigarette before flicking the ash into the tray again, "You should all come by Boston some time. We've got world famous seafood."

Saber (346) has posed:
The petite Saber did not so much as flinch at her name; perhaps she was being a little too paranoid. The Saber of Silver of a different Holy Grail War had been quite curious about her identity, though it seemed to be less out of gauging the strength of a possible opponent and more out of simple curiosity. Besides which, her true identity seemed to be common knowledge by friend and foe alike.

Then again, it wasn't her own safety she worried about.

The jade-eyed knight didn't miss her marshal's discomfiture, probably a combination of being in a large, noisy city and uncertainty of being able to act in his self-appointed bodyguard duties. Though she had insisted that as a Master-Servant team, those duties now fell to her, but he was as stubborn as she was.

She took idle note of the other customers gathered there, keeping alert but not obviously so. There didn't seem to be any cause for concern at the moment, but it was better to err on the side of caution. As before, she had a Master to protect even without their previous bonds.

"I hope that one has mushrooms, at least," she replied, giving Gawain a flat look at mention of mead. That had been a deliberate poke, it didn't take much to figure out. "I think, perhaps on my part, iced tea will do."

She was not entirely sure Bedivere would approve of putting ice in tea, but Arturia found it was actually not that bad. Certainly preferable when the weather was unsuitable for hot tea.

Saber suppressed a sigh. "We have been careful...though he appears to have taken an uncomfortable interest in our affairs. So long as he keeps to the old laws, we have no reason to cast him out...and for the moment, he seems to have contented himself with a tent beyond the walls." Loros made even the little blonde uneasy, that went without saying. But she spoke true; their metaphorical hands were tied.

Sir Gawain has posed:
Sir Gawain simply smiles as Sir Bedivere and Psyber apparently take his thing about mead seriously, it /was/ a callout, because Gawain is a jerk. "We'll get you water then. And it is fine, Psyber! More pizza for us!". There is a sort of delighted, gone to heaven look in Gawain's eyes.

A bit more quiet, as he turns to Sir Bedivere. "I doubt any of my opponents would have the gall to attack us here. Not only would it be a breach of Grail Rules that would be difficult to disguise due to the crowd, but they also are most likely unaware of our abilities. Though, that does require us to try and keep information as minimum as possible. There are not rules against familiars and spies, sadly."

Gawain turns back to Arturia, a wide smile. "Of course! I..may have ordered one of every topping, large size. We'll worry about payment later.~"

Presumably, kitchen staff is panicking off-screen.

"Boston..I would be glad to visit someday! Perhaps you'll introduce me to the type of pizza they have there.~"

Gawain looks like he's going to say more, when the 'father and son duo' do not actually sit down at the table. Instead, they're dragging two chairs from it, moving them over to the Knights' table. Gawain stares at the two, before it seems like he's just shivered.

The 'dad', is a man in his early to late 40s, wearing a Cubs shirt, a pair of shorts, and a Cubs baseball cap, slightly blocking his face. He does not seem very comfortable in his attire. Physically, he's over six foot, but very thin, weighing no more than 140lbs tops. His chin is rather thin, almost like an ice pick, and he has curly, black hair, if looking closely. He possesses a thick moustache, and whilst him and the teenaged boy do not particularly seem like they couldn't be related, it is more likely that they aren't then it is they are.

The boy is roughly fifteen to sixteen, wearing a gray and red long sleeved shirt, a pair of gray gloves, and blue jeans, with matching tennis shoes. His hair is short and black, and he has a pair of brown rectangular glasses over his eyes. He's about 5'8, and is thin and lanky, perhaps near the point of worry. Both him and the older man take seats at the table, the teenager being the one to speak, possessing an Eastern European accent, perhaps Russian, perhaps Slavic, and he seems rather..eloquent in how he speaks, almost artistic.

"I apologize for us interrupting abruptly. I have just been meaning to speak with you two for a bit now."

The teenager's glances, as he says this, are at Psyber and Sir Gawain. Sir Gawain responds by staring at the older man, and then throwing glances at his three companions. Whilst he never could do Saber and Bedivere's 'wordless communication' thing, it is fairly obvious there's a bit of panic in his eyes, and it is most likely not difficult to assume why.

The teenager continues to speak. "I am Mikhail, and this is my 'guardian', Milutin. I mean no harm by showing up today, and in fact mean exactly the opposite. If you'll allow us to stay with you, perhaps I could explain why I am here? No ill-intentions, I swear of it."

Mikhail seems innocent enough, but then again, this is a War, and there is little doubt that this is a Master and his Servant. Gawain takes a second to take a breath, before he speaks.

"I..have no qualms, if the others do not.". He's looking mostly towards Psyber, who as his Master, he personally believes has the final say.

Welp, so much for drama-free.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
"Perhaps it isn't safe in all areas, but it is still more accessible than it ever was in Camelot. Ah, no, perhaps 'accessible' is not the word," the silver-haired knight muses, glancing off to one side, momentarily watching the crowd. "It was accessible enough, but only a fool dared drink it with reckless abandon. More often it was used for the watering down of other things, such as wines. Safer to drink, this way, and also a convenient way to keep one's wits when drinking wine as a gracious guest."

His eyes flick back to the general vicinity of the metal patio table. There's no argument about not finding mead. He's pretty much sworn off the stuff. Eugh. No.

"We have been treating the manner most... delicately," Bedivere confirms. His expression seems almost nonchalant, but there's something solemn in the way those hooded violet eyes study the half-angel. "He has come as a guest, and by all appearances confesses that his behaviour is bound by the Old Ways. Thus far he has given me no reason to suspect that he will defy them overtly, and so long as he holds to such laws, I have no reasonable grounds to cast him out. I would be in defiance of the very same laws, myself."

"It is the same with the nogitsune, Kagenashi, who continues to stay within my hall." He gestures vaguely, as though to indicate a sharp-faced creature with his long fingers. "I do not trust her any more than I do the Wizard, but I will not cast her out. Indeed, it is valuable to learn something of her intentions and her motivations, I think, and she has slowly come to show some trust in me, even if she does not realise it. She speaks to me, which is more than can be said of many. If I bide my time, and if I am patient, she will perhaps tell me something of value when she speaks."

"As for the Wizard, so long as I truck no bargains with him and ask no favours, I will remain at the advantage – or, at the very least, not at the immediate disadvantage." One shoulder rises and falls in a faint shrug. "I suspect he is, perhaps, bored. I can think of no other reason why he should concern himself with such a place. It cannot even fully function as a garrison, yet, and will not for some time. Years, perhaps. There is yet much work to be done in Dún Reáltaí."

At mention of yet another large city, the knight seems to shift somewhat uncomfortably in his chair. "Perhaps," he affords, somewhat dubiously. "I find I can only take such places in... shall we say, moderated doses." They're too loud and too busy for his tastes. "I am fond of fish, however. It was a staple of Dál Riata, where I am originally from... though it was perhaps not so common in Camelot, more distant from the sea."

He reaches up, rubbing at his jaw thoughtfully and glancing Arturia's way. Mushrooms? They weren't uncommon in Camelot, either, although he hadn't really taken much note of them. If anything, some varieties commanded a hefty sum for the difficulty in finding them. Something about trained pigs. Apparently, mushrooms are still common in this day and age, too.

There's a somewhat owlish blink at the mention of iced tea. It's not so foreign a notion to him, as some medicinal teas required extensive brewing times to the point where the contents weren't hot any more, but... well, he prefers it hot.

He gives a brief dip of his head at Arturia's assertion. "Indeed. He has shown no interest in a more permanent, ah, residence. I will not cast him out of a tent beyond the walls, for he is not an immediate threat to the people, there; few seek him out, and as far as I have been able to discern – I am having him watched, if I do not watch him myself – he has done no wrong to the villagers. Indeed, he leaves them be."

Bedivere's tone of voice suggests he doesn't really buy that Innocent Hermit On The Edge Of The Woods Routine for two minutes, and he's going to keep watching the Wizard.

"...But in truth," he sighs, "I am made uneasy by him, and cannot help but wonder what his motivations are."

Violet eyes flick back to Gawain, casting the Knight of the Sun a flat look. Oh, he's perfectly well aware, and he's not going to give him any more ammunition than he has to. But that moment of playfulness fades, and he lowers his head, regarding the space behind Gawain somewhat warily. He lowers his own voice; not quite a whisper, but perhaps difficult to hear all the same.

"Perhaps. I will remain vigilant, however; I do not trust them, especially in light of other matters." He doesn't so much as look down to the command seal on his left hand, but it's clear he's referencing it. "I am not certain every Servant will heed that there are those who have abdicated from the conflict."

He blinks owlishly, again, when Gawain mentions ordering one of everything and not really worrying about the payment, managing a faint sound of disbelief. "Wh-what? You—you are not seriously going to eat so much, brother. Why have you ordered that many?"

Oh dear.

He also looks like he's about to say something else, but before he has a chance to get the words out, suddenly they have company. Immediately, the silver-haired knight tenses, subtle as it is – a faint shift of his weight, and a slight change in the line of his shoulder. Yet he makes no aggressive moves, not just yet.

They're certainly an odd pair. And assuredly not normal. Magi? Masters? Servants? It's hard for him to say; although he bears a command seal himself, he has no training. The circuits he carries have one purpose only, and that's to keep Saber intact. The inference that their behaviour is abnormal, along with the knowledge that there is a Grail War in play in Gawain's own pocket of the world here, is enough to lead him to that conclusion.

He doesn't answer, for it isn't he that Gawain looks to for an answer – but he will watch their impromptu company. Oh, most certainly, he will watch. There is an almost hawk-like intensity to his regard, in fact.
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Psyber (253) has posed:
Psyber gives a nod to Bedivere and to Saber, "Yes, that seems like the best way to handle it in this situation, given all current circumstance. Sorry if I seem a bit over-cautious about the matter, but he tried to drop an asteroid on my city a few years back. Something like that really makes it hard to view a person as at all trustworthy." He pauses, thinking it over, "Still, if he's binding himself to law, he will follow that. You know how to handle the situation best."

He does think over the second part, "Kagenashi, I have yet to have the..." Pause, "Pleasure of meeting in person. Though her reputation certainly precedes her these days. I hold a similar relationship as that to Elliana Fairchild, but different in its own ways. So I can relate to your plan. If you get her to open up, perhaps you can inject the right advice at the right time and change their course, yes?"

Red eyes flick over to Gawain, "Boston tends to use New York style. It's thinner and more foldable. Boston itself is more famous for... lobsters, various clam dishes like steamed clams or clam chowder, cod and salmon. Seafood, because the harbor is right there and a pretty famous fishing spot. So that's what you should look forward to more than pizza. We have this lobster roll that's a baked roll with chunked lobster and slaw and drizzled melted butte—"

He cuts off as they are joined by two figures. The half-angel blinks a few times and then says, "By all means, sit down and join us. We were just sitting around catching up on old times and having some food," Psyber says, biding a sentence while he scans over history and picks out three connected names that work, "I'm Psyber, you already know that. This is Gotz von Berlichingen," He waves at Gawain for the first name, "Georg von Frundsberg," He waves at Arturia for the second, "And Franz von Sickingen." He gestures to Bedivere for the third. Three connected knights from German history. These three were the German ideal anyway, hearty, blonde and fair. It worked for his quick cover.

It also has the inadvertent effect of Psyber deliberately making himself look vastly less capable than he is as a master, because he just outed three people sitting at a table in their full identity in the middle of a war. So that plays to his benefit as well.

Psyber tries to play it off and wave at them, "By all means, join us and talk."

Saber (346) has posed:
Arturia suppressed a sigh and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. And perhaps kick her nephew in the shin under the table. Really...sometimes his jokes were too heavy-handed. But no, such things would have been unbecoming a knight, much less a king. Even her enthusiasm for pizza was carefully contained. At least, somewhat.

She did, however, regard the Knight of the Sun a little warily on the matter of payment. "I shall take your word for it," she replied. The appetite of a single Saber was not something to be taken lightly...and there were two in a single setting.

On his reassurances regarding his mysterious opponents, though, Saber was not entirely certain. Someone like her first Master would have gotten creative. And then there had been Caster and his Master, insane murderous souls who simply hadn't cared about the Holy Grail or the War. Even as paranoid as the Association was, they simply could not account for every possibility. She remained cautious as a precaution, though she deliberately relaxed so as not to draw too much attention to herself. As much as someone like her could be inconspicuous, anyway.

The petite knight-king allowed a slight smile on her face. Yes, mushrooms had been a bit difficult to come by in the Britain of their era; there remained some types which remained on the high-price side, but the ones for pizza topping were easily obtained and cost no more than vegetables. She had found them to be another small pleasure of the current era.

To Bedivere's recollections about the water, Saber nodded slightly. "It was impossible then to examine water for the contaminants which are now known as the cause of disease," she commented. "Even clarifying it proved impossible...I have never tired of having clear, pure water." And of course, it made the tea all that much better.

Her eyes became distant and she frowned slightly, however, at the silver-haired knight's comments on Loros, and the lack of bargains or favours. Unfortunately, she owed the wizard a boon by her own rigorous standards. Though the bestowal of health had been a fulfilment of his own code and a reward for Bedivere's purity of spirit, any kindness shown to her knights was considered a kindness to the crown and to her personally. Like it or not, according to the Virtues of chivalry, she owed him. But at least the wizard had his own laws and honour, and would demand nothing which would violate her chivalry...a small mercy.

And her marshal was right; tactically, it had its advantages. Nevertheless, she remained as wary of him as her knight was. "Though I remain sceptical that he shall be forthright in his intentions, it is perhaps a boon that he is there, rather than causing some unknown mischief elsewhere...so long as he does not transform into a dragon again and terrorise the village-folk." As far as she knew, even Loros could not be in two places at one.

Kagenashi was equally as tricky. Her glance at Bedivere spoke to him of what her opinion was: that one seemed to think of herself as a force of nature – neither good nor evil –though her actions were generally of the latter rather than the former. Rather than understanding she does evil and enjoying it or simply not caring, the nogitsune seemed to think her actions simply were, like a blizzard or a flood. Of course, even neutral things were ones the knight would oppose to protect others...and perhaps she understood that part, too.

With a slight tilt of her head, the diminutive swordswoman awarded Gawain a curious look. "You have not been to Boston yet?" Of course, as something of a knight errant, it was no surprise that the golden-haired knight was often out and about in the multiverse lending his sword wherever there was need for the presence of a proper knight. And many times he could be found in Dún Reáltaí when he was not searching for clues regarding his own Grail War. Even still, to have not even been by the offices of Heaven or Hell was a bit surprising. "A-ah, yes, the 'Boston clam chowder' is as well-known as this 'Chicago deep dish'..."

This being food she was talking about, the flaxen-haired Servant started to become more animated. "Sometimes, it is even served in bowls made from bread..."

However, that rare liveliness was abruptly squelched as their group was unexpectedly approached by the 'father and son'...which was, of course, not what they truly were. Jade eyes became sharp as she scrutinised the two more thoroughly now.

Silently, she was grateful to Psyber for hiding her gender; that had been one way she and Irisviel were able to conceal themselves reasonably well in Fuyuki City. Good misdirections all, even if it might not have been exactly chivalrous and Bedivere would have to hide his command seal. A quick glance at him – though avoiding looking at his hand so as not to draw their attention to it – and folding her hands in her lap should be enough to tell him to hide the seal.

Facing the men again with her stoic mask in place, Arturia nodded silently. She couldn't entirely hide what she was...but knights were hardly rare in the Grail War.

Sir Gawain has posed:
Sir Gawain remains silent as Psyber introduced them, German, really? Well, it'll have to work. Gawain gets back to the subject they were on the past, in an attempt to avoid showing his unease. "Franz, there are four, no, six of us here! Besides, plenty for leftovers! Besides, seeing Georg's reaction, I believe he could eat quite a bit!".

Mikhail places his gloved hands onto the table, a friendly, boyish smile on his face. "Ah, yes, I had already figured out your identity, Sir Gotz. But I did not know your Master's name, though I certainly recognized him. Flirting with the Overseer, really?". It's playful, but his speaking, if paid attention to, is being done specifically. He puts emphasis on 'Sir' and the G in 'Gotz', losing emphasis right after the G sound.

Psyber may recognize Mikhail from the Meeting of Masters; the boy was in the corner, not particularly hiding, but more surveying instead of directly participating. He never asked a question, nor spoke to any person, but he paid much attention to everything he could see and hear.

As Mikhail says he has figured out Gawain's identity, he's a bit..confused, but just keeps a stoic face for now. Did he actually think Gawain was Gotz von Berlichingen, or did he know the truth, and was playing along?

Mikhail stood up, but Milutin did not. "My apologies, with you all being so formal, we should be as well. I am Mikhail Alkaev, and this is my guardian and companion, Stefan Uroš II Milutin of Serbia.". Right after the introduction, Mikhail sits back down, and gestures a hand to Milutin, all the while tapping a single knuckle on the table, a thin smile on his face.

Milutin finally spoke for the first time. His voice was charismatic, but as intellectual as Mikhail's, and he too possessed a bit of a Slavic accent. His hands are visible on the table, showing that he must be the Servant of the duo, if there were any doubts. "It is a pleasure to meet you. Germanic knights? Should get along well with a king, then.". He did not smile, but his words seemed pleasant.

Mikhail, on the other hand, smiled brightly as Milutin spoke, adding to the conversation himself. "So, you were speaking of lobster rolls? I have been to Boston once before, but I never had the pleasure to try one. And, if you are offering us pizza, it would be rude to reject, I believe, according to your code? I do say I'm not much of an expert in it, though I've always been one interested in speech, not law." He enunciates on speech as well, as if he is trying to pass along some sort of message or such.

Mikhail exhales, before smiling warmly again. It is a smile that could go along well with Sir Gawain's, though his smile right now is much more wary than Mikhail's.

"Now, for why we came to see you. I suppose that Franz and Georg are in on the matters that have begun in the last week or so? They're another duo, but not involved, I presume?". His words are vague and sound innocent enough, but like many he has said before, it would seem they have hidden meaning. "I had some suspicion of their identities as well, but they are now confirmed.". This time, he enunciates on suspicion, but knuckletaps the table on confirmed, most likely more cues, and perhaps in an attempt to show what these cues mean, if the others are smart enough to figure it out.

Gawain has not.

"I heard about the tragedy in the family, Gotz. I am very glad you have someone to support you now.". Enunciation on both tragedy and support. "But with James gone..I thought you might like to know some information on the others involved in the matters? I know about..seven of the pairs. The five families who have been involved in similar matters before, and two of the..odd cases." Mikhail frowns on the name of James, enunciates on matters each time it is said, and on five families. The 'odd cases' get a sort of bemused smile from him. "Ah, would you like to know Milutin's occupation? It could be helpful as well." Enunciation on occupation, and a smile.

"Because, the way I see it, we could help each other in the long run."

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
"I can count on one hand the number of people that I truly trust," Bedivere states simply, violet eyes settling on Psyber's blood-red. "Such was necessary in Camelot, as it is necessary here. My actions and my appearance of trust based on adherence to Brehon Law may seem naïve to some, but I assure you, as can my brother-knights and my king, that I am anything but. He is being watched, and watched carefully. He will continue to be, so long as he remains within or near Dún Reáltaí. I do not trust him. And I do not trust him to conduct himself peacefully. At least, not indefinitely."

He smiles, thinly. "And when he has cast aside all pretenses of the ancient ways, I will be there to greet him. I will suffer no threat to the people whose lives have been entrusted to my care, or their land and livelihood. They are my responsibility. And if need be, I will call in every single Union ally I am acquainted with if that is what is needed to repel him. If he so much as threatens to pluck a single hair from the head of one of Dún Reáltaí's villagers, he will find himself faced with a small army of Union Elites. Or perhaps one not so small."

Forget standalone heroics. Bedivere knows he's outmatched by most of the denizens of the multiverse... and he's not above calling in favours. Or allies. The glory to gain from single combat is useless, except as a quick way to die – he is more pragmatic than that.

"Kagenashi is a complex creature. In some ways she is not unlike the Tylwyth Teg, the Fair Folk, for much as Loros, she is an adherent to the old ways. They are perhaps different from what we are accustomed to, but they are similar enough in spirit – and it seems she holds herself to those laws, if she holds herself to nothing more." He drums the fingers of his right hand on the table, thoughtful. "Perhaps. I do not know that she can be swayed, for her goals are so important to her that she would appear to act against her very nature, but it is my intention to try. If I can learn more of her motivations, and mayhap appeal to her sense of duty, all may not be lost."

He shrugs. "But that is a plan of action for another day. I do not yet have her trust, and it will be a long time in coming, if I am even capable of earning it. She is wary; as wary as I am." It's not unlike an elabourate game of chess.

As those strangers come to their table, though, Bedivere subtly puts his hands into his lap, without even looking to Arturia for that suggestion. He'd arrived at that decision independently. Instead, he merely adopts a mild posture and expression, as though he were hardly anything to be threatened by.

For the moment, though, he remains silent, at least until directly addressed; inclining his head respectfully when Milutin politely acknowledges them.

"I am simply an acquaintance," he states in regards to the matters suggested, shaking his head. "You may consider me only loosely involved in this. I, personally, have no stake or vested interest in the matters at hand."

Those violet eyes are practically boring a hole into Milutin when he says his suspicions are confirmed. They narrow, ever so slightly, at those non-verbal signals; his eyes flick briefly to Arturia, Psyber, and Gawain in turn. It takes no close bond to get his point across, and for once, his eerie sense of communication is plain enough to all three of them.

They know who we are.

His gaze flicks again to the strange pair when they mention a tragedy in the family – the battle of Camlann, and the mutual deaths of Arturia and Mordred? And who is James? – but he remains silent.

"We would indeed like to know," he states in that gentle voice of his. Perhaps his appearance may serve as some slight manner of obfuscation to their identities and roles; a foil to what they seem to have arrived at the suspicion of so quickly. After all, Tohsaka Sakura had mistaken him for Guinevere; there are feminine aspects to his appearance, and most definitely to his voice, so perhaps that may trip them up a bit. "If you would be so kind."

Another brief glance is cast to the others, subtle.

It would behoove us to play along with them, but I do not trust them, nor should we.

Psyber (253) has posed:
Psyber smiles and shrugs to Mikhail and taps some ash from his cigarette into the tray in front of him, "What can I say? Miss Einzbern was quite attractive and I simply could not resist myself," His tone is smooth and professional, as one would expect from someone who makes his living dealing with very dangerous people.

"Psyber is just an alias. My REAL name is Paul Syber," The half-angel says, reaching to an inner pocket of his jacket. He takes out a wallet and opens it. It has a Massachusetts Driver's License in there, along with a badge from the INTERPOL, weirdly enough. He closes the wallet a moment later and then slips it back into his coat. Probably next to the wallet that has Himei's fake identity as Pat Benatar, US FBI. Or any of his other Cover IDs. He has so many.

Setting down his cigarette in the ash tray, Psyber folds his hands carefully behind his head as he listens to Bedivere, giving the man a serious look, "We have that in common. I trust very few implicitly. Good to know you're handling the situation, I will defer to your judgment," He smiles back to Bedivere's thin smile. He then listens to his opinions about Kagenashi.

"What is the saying... the more complex the working, the easier to disrupt the machinery?" Psyber ponders, "Trying is all one can do. If she can be saved, the most one can offer is the extended hand. Whether she takes it will be of her own wills and desires. Though that makes your attempt no less noble."

Attention turns back to Saber, "That's true. They do sourdough breadbowls at a lot of the best places. Easy cleanup and it's so tasty." He's taking his time before he responds to the Master and the Magus too much more, wanting to make sure the control of the conversation stays firmly in the group, as opposed to them dictating the pace via their bold arrival. He waves his hand at Gawain faintly, "Really, next time I have Mordred over for a street fair, I'll be sure to invite you."

But really, back to their two guests. Psyber rubs a hand under his chin and says, rather briskly, "Well, I'm sorry, but in America the title of King doesn't carry as much weight as it used to. We sorta fought a war to escape having to be under a crown," He notes simply, smiling politely as he does so. He shoots a look to Saber that vaguely says 'no disrespect' and he hopes she reads that he's just trying to get under their skin while still being polite.

He definitely seems to have the same thoughts Bedivere does on this matter, albeit a more aggressive approach to handling this honeyed exchange between parties, "Oh? That's very emboldened of you to come openly in a free for all to speak with me. Surely it would have been much easier to simply..." He waves around the pizzeria, "Take me out in one fell swoop. I'm only human, after all."

"So how can we help you? And how will you help us?"

Saber (346) has posed:
For the time being, the King of Knights left the discussion of Loros, Kagenashi, and the eerie fact that their little home had attracted some most unwanted attention to fall by the wayside. The topic was a rather complex one, and one she did not feel entirely comfortable discussing so openly. Which was just as well, given the arrival of their 'guests.'

Saber caught something of a vague inference from the black-haired magus; from what she gathered, Mikhail didn't buy their false identities. In fact, with the particular way he pronounced certain things, he might have even suspected Gawain's true identity, and by extension those the other two knights. What was of special concern to her was how he had discovered it, if that suspicion was indeed correct...and what he intended to do with that knowledge. Alliances were occasionally formed during the course of Heaven's Feel, but the fact remained that there could be only one winner of the Holy Grail War.

A slight frown marred her face as Mikhail introduced the Servant by his full name; it was highly unlikely that had been his true identity. Had Milutin introduced himself as one of the kings of the War, Saber would have been bound by the dictates of chivalry to reply with her own name. Was it a ploy to uncover the rest of their identities, or confirm what they already suspected?

Her eyes briefly narrowed to sea-green slits when he finally spoke in spite of the pleasantry; she sensed a charisma that was part and parcel of being a Heroic Spirit of royal lineage, no matter how obscure the legend or lore. Or perhaps the king he had hinted at was not himself?

Arturia caught her marshal's glance effortlessly, not surprised that Bedivere had reached the same conclusion she had regarding their identities. And she had little doubt the others had reached the same conclusion. Indeed. The only one she was certain they had been unable to dig up was Psyber's; she was reasonably sure the name on his ID was not his real one, but she idly wondered if there was anyone alive – or somewhat alive as she and Gawain were – who knew it.

But just as the violet-eyed knight hinted they should continue to play along, Arturia was already in motion. "Ah...that would depend on the king, would it not?," she queried calmly, folding her hands on the table after giving Psyber her equivalent of a shrug. Royalty still meant something within the context of the Grail War, but not nearly as much as during their own lifetimes. "Karolus Magnus, certainly...but Childeric I? That would pose a problem."

The two different kings were quite different in at least one very important way, and if he was truly Milutin – as Mikail claimed, he would pick up on it whether he openly acknowledged it or not.

The longer Mikhail spoke, the more certain she became of her initial assessment until it was at last all but confirmed. Laws of hospitality were reasonably common, and the Virtues of the Round Table became the foundation for later knightly orders, but altogether each hint completed the whole of the puzzle. She flashed a fleeting critical glance at Bedivere, then to Gawain and Psyber, hoping the other two would be able to pick up on it. This is bad. We need to go on the offensive. It was no reassurance that the conclusion Mikhail seemed to draw would have been the correct one; Arturia and Bedivere were not directly involved.

So they were baiting them, luring them out with these snippets of information. They seek a temporary alliance, then. But of course, their information was not entirely perfect; neither she nor Bedivere recognised the name 'James.' Perhaps he had been the name of Gawain's previous Master, and the 'tragedy' in question had been his untimely demise.

It seemed that at least her marshal and the half-angel understood her implication – or else had arrived at the same conclusion in the same instance she had, neither of which would surprise her – and the jade-eyed knight simply watched the pair with a steady, unflinching gaze as Bedivere and Psyber spoke in turn. Reticence, fortunately, could be read any number of ways.

Sir Gawain has posed:
"With..her..ugh." Sir Gawain playfully frowns at the mention of Mordred. Though he would call out Psyber for saying that, it is dreadfully obvious, especially by Sir Bedivere and Saber's glances, that their identities are compromised. The names James makes Gawain frown deeply, knowing the name himself, as James Nerrick, former Master of Saber of Gold.

Mikhail turned to Psyber as he spoke of one fell swoop, a thin smile on his face. "And perhaps fall to your blade? Not a smart maneuver. Not that it is my plan to assault you in the first place, or any time soon, if I can help it."

Milutin seems to frown, and as he's about to speak, Mikhail raises a hand, before speaking himself.

"Deception is not very friendly. We have been lying to each other since we met, and while understandable, given the game we're playing, that is not the type of relationship I want. I know your true identity, and I would give you Milutin's, if not for the eyes and ears surrounding us, hidden in the dark. You surely know what a familiar is and how it could be hidden around us, so giving our full information..is never intelligent."

Mikhail smiles, before taking a deep breath, turning towards Gawain and Psyber.

"I came to you because you are the only duo in the War I believe I can trust. With James Nerrick slain by an enemy, that means Gotz would need a new Master. Finding old allies of his led to this new Master, I presume, which means the new Master is most likely trusted by the old allies. Knowing your identities, or at least having some guess, means this Master is likely to be one that meshes with you in personality and ideals. Someone like yourself has good ideals, most likely similar to my own."

Gawain seems like he's going to say something, before Mikhail speaks again.

"I like this better internet in the Multiverse..it's..useful. Takes time to get used to, but it has potential. If this is what the future holds, I cannot wait for it." Mikhail smiles, enunciating on internet.

Gawain takes a second to think over what he is saying..before looking slightly ashamed. He glances at his companions, a guilty look to his eyes, which reads more or less as It's my fault.

Mikhail had learned Gawain's identity on the internet. Most likely because he has, on public broadband, referred to himself as both Saber of Gold and Sir Gawain, and the particular location of his war, several times. But Mikhail interrupts this train of thought by speaking again.

"Your secrets are safe with me. At a safer location, sometime, I will tell my own. No lies. Friends should not lie to each other."

Mikhail's smile is warm, and actually rather friendly. Though he has shown to be manipulative, and very intelligent for his age, but there seems to be no visible deception in either his smile or his words.

"Let us begin. We are both aware of the five families, as Grau von Einzbern kindly told us. The Reynards, the Einzberns, the Makiri, who are now the Matous, the Barthomeloi, and the Tohsakas. I know of things regarding these Masters, and a bit about their Servants, as well as two others..the guy in the mask from the meeting, and the pair of twins. My information is free to share. To those watching, as well.".

Mikhail takes another breath before he continues. Milutin is remaining silent, seeming to allow his Master to do the talking.

"Let us start with the Matous. Their Master in the War was adopted, due to no direct descendant having the circuits for it. Hiroto Matou. I don't know who he was adopted from, but I do know he's a skilled magus. And I know he's the Master of Rider of Gold. But, there's something interesting you may want to know, that regards you, Gotz."

Gawain grimaces at this. Mikhail's not smiling, more of a grimace than anything.

"I believe that Matou and Rider of Gold were the ones who killed your Master. I do not know for a fact..but I know the rumor is that James was assaulted by birds. Rather strong birds. Am I correct?"

Gawain only nods, as he speaks himself. "What does this have to do with Hiroto Matou and Rider of Gold?".

"We were almost assaulted by similar birds. We got away, but I am rather sure I saw Matou. Not 100%. I know he's the Master of Rider of Gold due to..other means. I'm good with information.". His last sentence is emphasised on clearly, as he sighs.

"Water and Fire affinity for Hiroto Matou. That's all I know about his magecraft. I do not know if the birds come from Rider of Gold or Matou, but if they come from the former, it's a start at figuring out their identity."

Sir Gawain sighs, as he glances at his companions. His eyes seem to be telling, or attempting to, at least, he's not good at this, a story.

I am not sure whether or not to trust him. He seems to have a wealth of knowledge, and wants to be on our side, but we know little about him.

Well, he also mouthed it, too, which is helpful. Mikhail notices this, but doesn't respond to it.

Instead, he turns to the whole group as he speaks.

"Would you like to know about any of the other Masters and Servants? That is all I know about the Matou family Master. Please, ask any questions you might have."

"My information is your information."

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
The silver-haired knight remains silent, watching as Psyber pulls out his wallet and brandishes his many credentials. The very concept of an identification card is a strange one, to him; and indicative of a very different society. That such documents are needed as proof of one's identity is somehow disheartening; that others would lie about such a fundamental thing, or that one's word would not be taken as fact in an important matter like that... but his attention is largely on the conversation at hand.

They're not out of the woods just yet.

Psyber's observation on trust earns a brief glance from the marshal; a kind of unspoken acknowledgment. I will keep that in mind. And if I require assistance, I will be certain to let you know.

To the matter of Kagenashi, though, he seems to have no real opinion to give. She is an enigma, and one that he's only begun to peel the layers away from. That situation will require more thought, and more planning.

His eyes turn back to their visitors. For the most part, he seems content to watch, and to be the quiet observer, mulling over this strange pair. Much like Arturia, their specific emphasis and their overly friendly nature is both off-putting and suspicious. He had been told quite a few details on how the War of the Holy Grail works, thanks to his status as her Master, and he can see no other end to this but betrayal. Very few Servants would be in it without a genuine wish of their own, and in the end, only one of them will survive.

There can be no hope of a draw in this deadly game. Perhaps a few might team up to put down a particularly strong enemy, but in the end, it falls to infighting. Of course, he also has slightly different insight. There had been knights who had sought the Holy Grail in his own lifetime – although they had not returned to the kingdom, or they had returned in failure.

The Holy Grail is, in his mind, a thing better left alone. It only brings with it failure and death, as far as he has ever seen. It inspires greed and stokes all the dark things that hide in the hearts of men. Better to leave such a thing behind, and be grateful for the things that are real; the things that exist before oneself, as far as he's concerned.

Well, like it or not, he's embroiled in this Grail War. If nothing else, it's for Gawain's sake. He would sooner fall on his own sword than abandon his brother-knight.

Briefly, he flicks a glance to his companions.

Perhaps the offensive, but we do not want to set them ill at ease. They may act unpredictably. We must remain calm, but we must also ensure that they remain calm as well. Ah, blood and damnation, this would be easier if they could speak without fear of watchers. It is what it is, though. He sighs through his nose, very quietly. Indeed. They are insecure. Or they are testing us – or by extension, Sir Gawain.

His eyes narrow, very faintly. How does Mikhail know that Psyber can wield a blade? There is a chance he might be talking more poetically, referring to Gawain's sword, as Psyber's Servant, but there's no way to know for certain. He frowns very slightly as Mikhail continues to talk.

Now, every watcher in the area is aware that they know Sir Gawain's identity, as well. Splendid. That, in turn, may make them targets. I would not put it above some Servants to torment information out of their victims before they finally decide to kill them. Dishonourable, perhaps, but it is what I would do in the enemy's place, were I not bound by the chivalric virtues. Somewhat restlessly, the knight drums the fingers of his right hand against his thigh. There is a vague itch just behind one shoulder blade, like the tell of battle when he had turned to confront an enemy striking from behind. These two make him suspicious. And that now puts us at risk, as well, if his estimates on Sir Gawain's identity are correct.

Ultimately, they are too quick to call themselves friends. He trusts them as much as he trusts friendly displays from his known enemies. Loros' congenial grin comes to mind, or Kagenashi's blade-thin smile.

Perhaps Mikhail does mean no manipulation... but Bedivere was an excellent marshal precisely because he didn't trust anyone but the king.

I do not believe it, he 'says' to the others, keeping his expression bland. His very blandness gives away that sentiment, so they need no deeper understanding as Arturia does to 'communicate' with him. He is trying too hard, and his Servant has hardly spoken. His eyes flick to Gawain, briefly. I do not advise trusting that one, brother. Heed me in this, or it may be your death. And I would not see you fallen again.

He looks out to the crowds again, as though either uninterested in what the odd pair have to say, or perhaps more concerned for the crowds and their potential listeners than the conversation itself. Yet he is still listening, and still watching them, however subtly.

We must find out what they stand to gain by it, he decides, with a brief glance flicked to Arturia. What they tell us, and how they choose to frame that, will reveal much.

Psyber (253) has posed:
The unspoken response to Saber's ponderance as to his true identity was that Psyber is a fairly famous multiversal Elite in terms of ability and track record. It wouldn't be too hard to dig up his place of business or his more famous missions. But information like his true name is kept exceedingly rare. Less than half a dozen people in the Multiverse can address Psyber by his full name.

"You should append 'any time soon' to 'not at all'," Psyber helpfully suggests, continuing his relaxed pose in the chair, "As for the deception, I don't like to think of it as lying. It's more of an alternative form of storytelling. Like a court jester or a wandering bard," He takes a hand off the back of his head and wobbles it a bit before tilting his head to listen to Mikhail.

As he does so, though, he's thinking to himself. He can get the general feel from Gawain, Bedivere and Saber about their opinions. But he's not so in-tune with the group as to get the more nuanced messages of Bedivere's more complex looks. The half-angel's hand falls off the back of his head and under the table, "Positing that you are aware of most of the true identities of people at this table, I can assume the following: The first and unlikely option is that you are foolish enough to out that you have information which may get you tortured in a venue where you admitted there are potential listeners. The second, and one I feel is far more likely, is that you believe your Servant to be so powerful you do not find that publically revealing you have game-changing information will put you in any substantial risk."

Red eyes look between the two for a few moments, before he continues speaking in a very calm cadence, "The natural extrapolation from this is that, since he claims to be a king, you believe you have nothing to lose in placing myself and Gotz at the speartip of this war and shattering enemies with your information, leaving you free to avoid personal risk or revelation of your individual powers until the 11th hour, at which point you will step to the forefront and make your entrance to the competition proper."

Psyber pauses for a moment to take a sip of beer, "What this tells me is that while you don't fear an individual confrontation, and that you are sure you would triumph in such an encounter, you do not feel confident in your ability to stand against multiple opponents. Your powers and capabilities are likely either too draining to use outside of individual battles or are ill-suited to multiple opponents or engagements." He rubs his hands together and thinks on it.

He looks to Bedivere, Saber, and Gawain for a few moments with a look that seems to say 'This is about as "on the offensive" I can go in a casual conversation'.

"But if you are offering information, I will not pass it up at the moment," He adds after all this, "What do you know of the Tohsaka that is a Master in this war?"

Saber (346) has posed:
Saber did not so much as flinch at the mention of the homunculus 'son' created from her genetic material; the two had somehow uncovered their identities. But the fact that the two had approached them rather than using that knowledge to their advantage directly strongly hinted that the two had need of them as allies...or else were playing a very long, convoluted game. But typically, something that complex tended to defeat the purpose of the Holy Grail War, a battle which was, in essence, a 'shortcut' to the ultimate goals of the Masters involved. No, they needed them for something...but what?

"No, it is not," the petite blonde agreed mildly. Not to mention borderline unchivalrous. But Mikhail had a point; dropping pretence in their current location would be dangerously premature. And the knights' own ruse served as much to obfuscate their identities from eavesdropping familiars than from their visitors.

At her nephew's chagrined, apologetic look, it took considerable amount of willpower of the King of Knights to refrain from slapping her hand against her forehead. On the one hand, she need not continue to be so distressed over how their identities had been uncovered. On the other hand... This is why sharing one's personal information is so widely advised against. Unfortunately, even as she inferred it, only Bedivere would pick up on that due to their bond, and perhaps Psyber, simply because it was common sense. And there was little point to scolding him now, not with the information now out in the open.

Mikhail's reassurances were of little comfort; that information nevertheless meant that anyone in his War was capable of accessing the information. While generally magi tended to be somewhat Luddite, all it took was an unconventional one like the black-haired Master to stumble upon the multiverse and its advanced information dissemination. The type of intense bond she and her marshal shared was entirely unnecessary, given the look she shot the Saber of Gold. You had best change your usernames to things more innocuous.

Jade eyes flicked first to their guests, then to the Knight of the Sun. The magus didn't seem especially focused on the two of them, training the majority of his attention on the Servant and Master directly involved. Sir Gawain, it would seem. I suspect that they also understand that we are not a part of this War in a direct capacity.

The Servant pressed her lips into a thin line; Bedivere was quite correct. Even if Mikhail and his Servant did not yet intend any harm to them, there was no guarantee that another Master and Servant pair would not attempt to capture and torture the information out of them, as Psyber pointed out to the pair. And while it was likely the two saw no need to waste time, resources, and considerable mana taking a fight to Arturia and Bedivere – and she had reason to suspect they would not – that by no means meant that the remaining teams would not be so foolish, perhaps hoping her own mana would fill this particular Grail.

And Gawain was still in the thick of it. Indeed, Bedivere was once more correct; Gawain's position in the War had been compromised. Still, the violet-eyed knight had a point; they might balk, or act in some unpredictable manner.

So James was indeed Gawain's former Master, which likely meant that the 'tragedy' in question had been his murder. But why bring that up?

The flaxen-haired knight was not left pondering that for long. Naturally, the participants would be different, given the entirely different time and place of this War compared to her own. Yet there were some familiar names; some of the families the magus mentioned she recognised from the intelligence Emiya Kiritsugu and Maia had gathered, and of course she herself had been summoned on behalf of the Einzberns, even if the Reynards and the Barthomeloi were unfamiliar. And what she knew of the Matous was nothing good; her previous Master had even taken the bold step of distancing herself from them and reclaiming her true lineage as a Tohsaka.

But what specifically their role in all of this was – aside from having summoned a Rider – remained unclear. At least, until Mikhail revealed his suspicions that the Master and Servant of the Matous appeared to have been responsible for the death of her nephew's previous Master.

Another ruthlessly suppressed sigh; there was a reason Gawain was neither her spymaster nor her marshal. A good-hearted and exemplary knight...but no good at all with the cloak-and-dagger aspects of their new reality. Fortunately, they seemed to have found themselves in somewhat neutral – rather than hostile – territory.

No, there was certainly some manipulation going on; as Psyber had pointed out, feeding them information and having him and Gawain essentially eliminate their enemies for them with minimal risk to themselves was the obvious end. But was there some other underlying reason? Perhaps they might act in unpredictable ways if forced into a corner, but so far merely setting them off-balance a little might yield something of their other reasons. In all likelihood, it was probably connected to one of Milutin's weaknesses, or perhaps his particular abilities were not conducive to an open battle against multiple opponents, as Psyber had identified. Understandable, of course, but that did not mean she would trust them any further for it.

The question of the Tohsakas seemed to be a good enough start to indirectly delve into any other agendas the two might possess. Saber simply waited, continuing to scrutinise the unfamiliar Master and Servant.

Sir Gawain has posed:
Sir Gawain frowned even more as he felt and saw Arturia's gaze. But, he didn't believe the situation couldn't be salvaged. These two had information and were willing to give it, and if they were telling the truth about having been attacked by Hiroto Matou, they shared a mutual enemy as well. Gawain fell silent completely, having nothing he could think of saying at the moment.

Mikhail seemed to twitch and frown as Psyber mentioned torture, but quickly switched into a small, if not uneasy smile. "What if..it was neither of those?". Mikhail seemed as if he wanted to say more, but clamped his jaw short, eyes darting from person to person, table to table. Instead, he changed the subject quickly.

"Well, let's start by saying I'm not sure of his Servant's class, though I know it's Gold, and most likely one of the three knight types, from what I've gathered. Which means it's Archer or Lancer. On that subject, since Gotz's class is known, and I am one not to see a certain class as a hinderance, Milutin is Caster of White. I had meant to say that earlier..but the subject keeps changing, after all."

Caster frowns a bit, perhaps he had wanted to keep his title a secret, and Mikhail doesn't seem too happy about saying it himself. Perhaps he had been trying to gain trust by saying this, or was it a trap?

"The Tohsaka Master is Tokiomi Tohsaka. Fire and Jewel magic, strong magus. And, apparently, he got a rather good catalyst for his Servant, so, it is likely to be at the top of the totem pole. Potent threat, might be difficult to take on alone."

Mikhail takes a deep breath, before nervously smiling. "And since I don't have much on him, here's one of those two interesting cases I told you about. Assassin of White's Master...or should I say Masters?" This seems to amuse him, but at the same time, it also seems to unease him a bit.

"They're a brother-sister duo, twins, Ensio and Esteri Edelfelt, respectively. Both inherited the family crest, and seem to take turns wearing the Command Seals. Close relationship, never apart in their life except for a few short situations, from what I've heard. And get this.."

Mikhail puts his hands on the table, leaning a bit forward.

"Their Servant, seems to be two. I was..watching them, once, and saw four silhouettes. Though it's majorly conjecture, but it's something to possibly keep in mind if you get into a fight with them. Oh..and then there's the most interesting case, the Masked Man." Mikhail leans back, hands on his lap.

"They call him 'Reaper'. Cliche name, but, apparently he's good at whatever he does. He's not mute or scarred or anything from the rumors I've heard..apparently, magi have experimented on him. Doesn't open his mouth. Except, apparently, when he's working. Used as a hitman, bodyguard, kidnapper, whatever the people who did that to him want him to do. Another rumor? He drained a magus completely dry of their prana, and then killed them. Just rumors, but, if that's all you have to go on, you go on it."

"And then there's fact. He's the Master of a Berserker, not sure what colour..but apparently he can control it. Has the prana for it, too. If he's as scary as he's made out to be, take him seriously."

Mikhail sits up straight at this, turning to Caster for a second, before back at the others.

"Now..all I got left is..Einzberns, Barthomeloi, and Reynards. Any preference on what I go on next, or should I go on all three in a burst?".

Sir Gawain just sits there, taking all the information in. These three seem like possibly large threats..not to forget that there's still several Masters and Servants they know nothing about. Milutin is a Caster of White..but he can't think of anyone who could fit with what he knows, even if he knows any little, into that role.

And he's also kind of fucked himself over a bit already, giving his enemies the advantage.

Woops.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Although honour forbids him from actually lying, nor would he think to seriously bend the truth so far, Bedivere is perfectly content to lie by omission. Sometimes such tactics are necessary. They had proven vital within the scope of Camelot's court, and they are no less vital here in the multiverse, caught up in the scope of the War of the Holy Grail. It may not be Bedivere's war to fight, but he would not abandon Gawain. Furthermore, his own status as a Master may well draw him into the conflict whether he seeks it out or not. It would be best to keep sharp.

He doesn't owe Mikhail that much – or anything at all. And he certainly doesn't trust him.

For the most part, Bedivere seems content to remain silent and let the others do the talking for him. Tactics are his specialty, and while he is skillful in the realm of cloak-and-dagger operations like these, one of the most important strategies he forced himself to learn was to give nothing away. For as much as he is curious about Mikhail and his Servant, they know nothing about him save what they think they know, and he has no qualms about letting them think they're wrong about him. He will neither confirm nor deny anything... nor tip his hand by saying too much. That's a mistake he's content to let Gawain make. The Knight of the Sun is a fine paragon of knighthood; he is also, unfortunately, an example of why the king was required to choose her lieutenants so carefully.

Psyber's observations earn no spoken commentary from the violet-eyed knight; it seems as though he'd come to the same conclusions, himself, and has nothing to add. Instead, he watches Mikhail and Milutin calmly, waiting to see how they might react.

Then that is enough. The brief, calm look he flicks to Psyber is enough to respond to his look. Do not reveal too much, or push too hard. Honey is often more valuable than vinegar.

There's a brief, almost silent sigh in response to Arturia's observation on personal information; subtle enough that the strangers may not even notice it. It conveys his exasperation well enough to those who know him, though. His reactions are often subtle. If this were anybody else, they would be pinching the bridge of their nose, or rubbing their forehead. Or maybe slapping Gawain upside the back of the head for being flamboyant and dumb. Admirable enough traits, since his forthrightness is a rare enough quality, but... well, he doesn't really exercise any restraint with it, either. That can cause problems in a situation like the Grail War.

Fortunately, he himself need not worry about that "internet" thing. Dún Reáltaí doesn't even have electricity, and modern contrivances like that hold no interest for him, no matter how much Gawain might find them fascinating. The marshal is a simple man, at heart, and he's content with that.

We are not part of this War in a direct capacity. His eyes flick to Arturia, responding to her unspoken statement. However, that does nothing to guarantee our safety, or even Sir Gawain's. We are involved, now, like it or no, and I fear we must play this deadly game to its conclusion.

Reaching out, he toys with his water glass for a moment before taking a sip, absently balancing it this way and that by the bottom rim once he returns it to the table. He'll never tire of clean water.

Still, he seems curious to hear what they have to say about the Tohsaka family. No doubt it's a different family than the one he has experience with. His knowledge is of the two sisters, whose personalities are such opposites to one another. They had also participated in their own War of the Holy Grail, as did their father before him, but only the sisters had seemed to survive. Come to think of it, he couldn't recall the father's name...

As Mikhail explains more about the War, Bedivere's eyes slowly drift over to Milutin. The knight's posture is one of calm, yet there is an intensity to his gaze that suggests he is scrutinising the Caster of White – if that is indeed what he is – very carefully. It's the regard of one warrior sizing up another, no matter how calm Bedivere seems to look.

The others are understandably focused on the dubious character of the Master, and so is he; but equally concerning is the taciturn Servant. Who is he, really? And what secrets is he hiding? That he comes of the team designated "White" means little and less; alliances are transient things in a conflict like this.

Mikhail's ghost tales of a man called Reaper, however, seems not to affect him in the least. He is not familiar with the workings of modern-day magi – but he also can't trust anything the Master says as truth. It could simply be scare tactics, for all he knows.

Yet still, he seems content to absorb what's said, and let the others ask their questions and play the game of intrigue. Unless approached, he instead seems more interested in mulling over what they have to say; even as he keeps an eye on their surroundings – for he still does not trust that an enemy wouldn't take advantage of having so many participants gathered here in one place – for any signs of trouble.

Psyber (253) has posed:
"How like a King, you seem to have information on all the Servants in play," Psyber says, snuffing out the remainder of his cigarette in the ash tray on the table. After listening to the rundown of the Masters they've been given information on so far, Psyber slowly leans forward in his chair and rests his hands on the table.

"The Holy King Uros. A man famed for generosity to the people and ferocity in war. Are you a caster because of your Sainthood?" He inquires, a curious cant of his head in one direction, and then in the other, "Ah, but, no matter." He smiles cheerily before extending a hand to Milutin as if to shake it.

Accepted or denied, the hand is retracted a moment later, "But let's cut straight to the point. The next Master you tell us about is going to be the Master I assume you want us to go after first. So just tell us about that one."

It's a pretty direct attempt of Psyber's to cut through both tension and to play into the game being presented to him, "I'll follow along for now, and help you out. Because it seems fun and because I do think we're going to win this war." He politely smiles at the two of them.

"No offense meant, of course. I'm sure you two will be the most interesting dance on the card in this. So I'm willing to team up for now to save the best waltz for the crescendo." He laughs slightly and then waves a hand, "So why play a tension-filled game around a table? If it's going to be you and me at the end of this, let's go all in."

He looks to Bedivere, then Saber, then Gawain. He's hoping, on some internal level, that they'll understand he doesn't trust these two so much as he wants to keep messing with the flow of the conversation to keep the two 'guests' from establishing their footing.

Saber (346) has posed:
At the point the group were at currently, information was all that Arturia was hoping for...however they decided to use that information. She wasn't entirely certain what, at this point, she and Bedivere – as outsiders – necessarily could affect the outcome.

At the mention of Tokiomi as the Tohsakas' representative Master, Arturia paled noticeably for a fleeting moment. She had met him only briefly during the Fourth War, when he called for a temporary truce. Admittedly, much of her energy had been channelled into deliberately ignoring Archer's subtle leering. Subtle for the haughty King of Heroes, at any rate. Under normal circumstances, her eyebrow would have merely twitched in disgust, but now, she had a serious concern. And the sea-green eyes flicking to her Master subtly betrayed the source of that concern.

For the moment, the King of Knights resigned herself to simply hoping that Servant was not, in fact, Gilgamesh. She did, however, reveal something of her hand, even if Mikhail had likely picked up on her sudden unease. "Has the Servant of the Tohsakas made an appearance as of yet?" she asked, fishing for a description...assuming Mikhail had one at all.

But the description of the Assassin of White sounded somewhat familiar to the Assassin of her War. The one she had witnessed decimated in Rider's Reality Marble. But two Masters sharing command seals?

What was of some greater concern was this 'Reaper', as Saber had no previous frame of reference for such a character. Similarly, there was nothing on Berserker, though she doubted that it would be Lancelot once more.

Her eyes flicked to Psyber; the half-angel was more than passingly familiar with the Holy Grail War and the nature of Servants. It seemed that he, too, was sceptical that the saint-king would have been summoned as a Caster. One of the Knight classes, without a doubt...but t have been summoned to the Caster class was a little bizarre.

And he was helping to keep them off their footing...good. She did, however, periodically flick her gaze to her marshal, gauging his reactions and keeping watch for any particular points he had caught in the meantime.

Sir Gawain has posed:
"It's the..family business to be able to get information." Mikhail grins at Psyber, placing his hands atop each other on the table. "If I didn't know my opponents, what type of combatant would I be?"

Caster of White then turns to Psyber. "I am a Caster because it is the only position I qualify for." He gives no grin or the like, seeming rather serious here.

But..Gawain thinks for a second. Milutin of Serbia should not just be a Caster, it doesn't fit his legend. At the very least, he should qualify for Rider if not any of the Knight classes.

Something dawned on Gawain. This was maybe the first time this ever happened! No, not really.

Glancing towards Psyber, his face seemed to read it all.

He is not who he says he is.

"You're wrong." Mikhail replies to Psyber simply and rapidly, a confident smile. "None of these three are particularly pressing at this moment, or ones we can really expend the resources on."

As he says us, it seems that he means the four (or six) of them, instead of just him and Caster.

And as Psyber says that he's pretty much all for them being the final two at the end, Mikhail's smile seems..different. It's less deceptive or cocky, but seems more happy and amazed, and rather genuine at that. "You got just the idea I was going for. A good Servant, and a good Master, always a great pairing. Alright, so we have..the Barthomeloi, the Einzberns, and the Reynard. Let's shoot it in that order."

Taking a breath before speaking, he seems to be looking through his mental notes.

"The Barthomeloi is a very powerful family. They practically rule the Clock Tower and the Association. The current family head, and Master for the war, is Barthomeloi Auberon. From what I dug up, he's extremely gifted. Earth and Wind specializations to start..and then two weird specializations he's mastered. Gold, as in the chemical element and mineral..and Nitrogen. I've never heard of specializations like these, so he's definitely a threat. Not worth hassling right now."

"His Servant is Saber of White. I don't know his identity..but I've seen him. And there's something about him, just by looking at him, that makes his identity almost clear. It's on the tip of my tongue but I just can't figure it out, nor can Milutin. Perhaps if you guys saw him, you might be able to get it."

Mikhail brushes his brow with one of his gloved hands, before continuing.

"The Reynards are..troublesome. Pranksters of the five families, it's said they did some stuff in the original creation of the ritual just because they could. It's why not all Heroic Spirits are..so heroic. They've always had Assassins, and this time is no different, Assassin of Gold. No idea who they are. Current Master is Antje Reynard. From what I've heard..no one is positive of her specialization, because they've seen her use all sorts of shit, from each category. But I don't think she's an Average One, who specializes in them all. Probably some sort of trick. Be wary around her."

"And then, the Einzberns. Alchemists by trade, they've never gotten far due to lack of combat potential. Not likely a threat except for their Servant, Caster of Gold. All I know about him is he's from classical myth, and those guys are usually pretty dangerous. Current Master is Amalie von Einzbern. Earth specialization. Not much of a threat magic-wise, but I heard she's a genius. Will probably have traps set up."

Mikhail brushes his hair back with his hands, before smiling. "And that's the information I've got for you. Together, we'll defeat everyone else. The Einzberns, the Barthomeloi, especially the Matous." Emphasis is back. This time, solely on Matous. Hmm.

Mikhail stands up, and once he does, Milutin follows him. "Any last questions? I think we should be off..your food will probably arrive soon, and I've decided I'm not that hungry."

"Excitement tends to do that to me."

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Slowly, the silver-haired knight closes his eyes, listening to the strangers' voices. He also listens for the slightest hint of trouble, and despite his seemingly casual disregard for them in closing his eyes, his senses are strung taut as a bowstring. Perhaps the strangers may not realise it, but his companions may. Arturia certainly will.

He's listening not to the words they speak but the tones and timbre of their voices – the marshal is searching for subtle tells of his own, which won't necessarily be revealed in their faces. Are they telling the truth, or are they merely good liars?

Not until Psyber speaks does he open his eyes, slowly, though they remain mostly closed. He also observes Arturia's sudden pallor, subtle as it is. For twenty years he had served her, searching for any sign of humanity beneath the cold mask of the king, and he knows the subtlest of her own tells, as much as she knows his. Something troubles her.

In all fairness, the situation troubles him, too. These men are not who they claim to be. While ordinarily that would hardly be cause for concern, the fact that they're involved in the War of the Holy Grail most certainly is. To his credit, though, Bedivere gives no acknowledgement of Arturia's momentary concern over the King of Heroes; he acts as though he hadn't even noticed that subtle tell – though she would know that he had undoubtedly seen it.

He doesn't miss Arturia's occasional questioning glance, either. Although he doesn't seem to react to those looks, that in and of itself may as well be a response for her. I know nothing of these matters, my king.

When he catches Gawain's look to Psyber, his expression goes very bland for a moment. If the situation weren't so delicate, he might palm his face in sheer exasperation. Of course they're not who they say they are; for he isn't so sure about the Master, either.

Although the first of the magus families seems uninteresting, the second is of mild interest. Bedivere doesn't change his expression, merely blinking slowly, almost languidly, at the mention of the Reynard family. It's an old word for fox, in some dialects, and it makes him wonder what else their secrets might entail. Foxes are said to be sly tricksters, after all, and Kagenashi has been evidence enough of this.

That one may be worth keeping an eye on.

The Einzberns similarly hold no evident interest for him; he lacks Arturia's familiarity with Irisviel, and the name otherwise draws no recognition. That they might have the foresight to use traps is noted, however; they're likely to be more cunning than the average combatant. Then again, such seems to be a staple of the magi, devious by their very nature in the modern era.

As to whether he has any last questions or no, the suit-clad knight gives no answer.

That should be answer enough, for them.

Psyber (253) has posed:
I was thinking the same thing.

Psyber replies to Gawain with a bland look on his face. He turns his gaze over towards people on the table, sighing a bit and then listening, "Saber of White, that's your proposed first target?" He rubs at his chin a bit and seems to consider the point.

He definitely agrees with the sentiment he can tell Bedivere has. These people are very untrustworthy, and the betrayal in the words is almost inevitable. But Psyber seems to believe he can deal with it when it happens. Perhaps confident that he and Gawain can trump most people in this war.

Still, there's a sigh and then he seems to have no more to really say on the topic, "Sure. Let's do this." He says, clapping his hands together once as he stares across the table at the opposition that he's forging an alliance with.

"We team up against the opposition and you try not to wind up face down in a gutter somewhere. Sounds dandy."

Saber (346) has posed:
Saber kept her expression blank at Mikhail's non-reason for the intelligence they had gathered. Or rather, it was not a particularly special one; nearly every family involved in the Holy Grail War was paranoid to some degree or another about information-gathering. of course, it was entirely possible that what the Master had inferred was that they were that rare practical old family who were more than willing to embrace new methods and technology so long as it produced results. After all, why potentially alert your enemy to your presence through old-fashioned eavesdropping via familiar when the necessary information could be found through the Internet?

The answer that the Caster gave for his class was likewise unsatisfactory; she had already concluded that an ancient saint-king should have been a Saber first and foremost, or perhaps a Lancer or Rider. But a Caster? While it was fairly clear that he was not who Mikhail identified him as, she did have to wonder just who the Servant truly was.

Much as her marshal did, Arturia suppressed a sigh. And unlike the two of them, he didn't quite have the clandestine method of communication down very well. At least, not without telegraphing what he was trying to get across. And, well...yes. They had already hinted as much that they were falsely representing themselves, if for no other reason that there were most likely those quaint familiars listening in. A reasonable precaution, if likely not their only reason for the continued obfuscation.

But what seemed the strangest of all was that the Servants were divided into teams, with a total of 14 rather than the usual seven. Jeanne, Jack, and Mordred had been summoned to a similar War with double the number of Servants, but the concept was nevertheless a strange one to the King of Knights.

Bedivere not knowing anything specific about the War itself hardly surprised her; she had divulged all the knowledge she possessed, and therefore he knew as much as she did. What information he lacked, she lacked in turn. No, what she needed from him were much more mundane observations...or rather, if there were any nuances she had missed that his keen eyes – or predominantly ears, as he seemed to be focusing on what was being said and the tones of voice – had caught. It was the same thing she had relied on him for in Camelot.

No doubt he had certainly noticed her sudden change at the mention of Archer, with an emotion he had likely never witnessed in her prior to that moment: fear.

But the moment passed, and the petite blonde did catch the emphasis on the Matous. Were they as treacherous as they were in her own time-line?

Psyber seemed to have things well in hand on the negotiation front, and Saber silently nodded her agreement with a barely-noticeable nod. There would be some footwork for the four of them in the near future, but at least for the moment, they had more to work with now.

Sir Gawain has posed:
"I'm very good at not ending up in gutters, too. We'll be seeing you soon." Mikhail flashes a smile, before parting towards the street, Caster of White following after him. He disappears in a crowd at a sidewalk, probably for the best.

"Well..that was..odd. But informative."

Before Gawain can say anything else obvious that he has on his mind, several employees, who do not look very happy, are coming out with boxes of pizza. All the toppings! This pizza place is likely to go bankrupt.

The family sitting at a table get up, and walk away. An employee heads towards their table to apologize for the delay, but notices they're gone. Yep, horrible day.

The family continues down the street before parting into an alley..dissipating into steam. Well, at least the suspicions about being watched weren't unfounded!

But for now, there is pizza. So, so much pizza.