A long bell rang out across a seemingly nondescript school in Fuyuki, Japan, signalling the end of the school day. Students began to pack up, and one brown-haired girl did the same, pulling out a pair of headphones and putting on the newest album from one of the pop bands popular at the time. She smiled and waved goodbye to her friends as they all went their separate ways, slipping on her headphones and heading off herself. As she walked, she was soon alone. With a final glance around, she removed the headphones from her ears and placed them around her neck.

"It's nearly time, isn't Caster?"

With that, the figure of a man seemed to materialise beside her. He appeared to be in his late twenties, wearing a modern suit and longcoat with a dark red tie, a grey scarf draped over his shoulders.

"Indeed, master. The preparations for your travel to Judea are ready, so we can leave whenever you think is best."
"Caaaaasteeeerrr! I told you to call me 'Rena'! Master makes me feel like an old man!"

The man laughed and smiled at the girl.

"Of course, Rena."
"Hmmph, better... Wait, are you doing that on purpose?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about..."

Rena pouted at him, but Caster just smiled and ruffled her hair. She smiled back, and from a distance the pair looked almost like a father and daughter as they walked alongside each other. As they walked, they talked about not one thing in particular, ranging from the Grail War to Rena' maths homework, until they finally arrived at Rena's home. Slipping off their shoes, as per Japanese custom, the younger girl loudly announced her return. Her mother poked her head around the door and smiled at the pair.

"Good, you're just in time, I was about get started on dinner. Caster, can you come and help?"
"Of course, Ms. Thorne."
"I told you to call me Victoria."
"Funny, Rena said almost the same thing."

The girl in question laughed as she followed the two adults into the living room. In any normal situation, it would have been unusual to see a Servant of the Grail War helping out in the kitchen, but Rena smiled as he removed his coat and scarf, tucked his tie into his shirt and rolled up his sleeves. She thought back to when she had first summoned him two weeks ago. Her mother had been understandably worried, but she had adjusted quickly, and was glad for the help around the house. As the two of them busied with the cooking, Rena turned to gaze out of the window, at the grey clouds forming overhead. Her thoughts returned to the Grail War, and her wish. Somewhere, her brother was alive. She knew it, and she wanted nothing more than to bring him home safe.

"James, wherever you are, stay safe..."[hr] A loud thud echoed though an abandoned book shop in a forgotten part of a town no-one cares about as the body of a man, a blond in his mid twenties, slammed into one of the dusty old bookcases, swiftly followed by a black-gloved hand punching him across the left-hand side of his face. His black-haired assailant grabbed him by the front of the jacket and threw him sideways, causing him to stumble to the ground before He scrambled to his feet, quickly pulling a matchstick out of his pocket and snapping it between his fingers as he quickly mumbled some words as quickly as he could. A ball of fire gathered in his hand and he quickly tossed it at his assassin as he stumbled back. The ebon-haired male, a man barely reaching his twenties, leaned to the side as it streaked past him, slamming against the dusty wall behind him instead. He slipped an engraved lighter out of his pocket and flipped it open in his right hand as his left hand began to draw a combat knife from the back of his belt. Striking the ignition on his lighter, both men chanted a stream of quiet words. The blond man launched a volley of burning projectiles that arced towards the black-haired man as teal flames danced along his right arm before he waved his arm and a wave of teal flames streaked away from him. The fireballs smashed against the teal flames and dissipated as books caught alight but didn't burn. Small patches of teal flames were left behind on the floor and bookcases, yet they seemed unaffected by the almost ghostly fires. With another quick chant, he thrust his hand out as a jet of teal flames shot from his palm, engulfing the other man. The blond man screamed in pain as he felt his magic circuits burning before the black-haired assailant stomp-kicked him in the chest. He barely had time to blink as the knife was impaled into his heart, so he stood in shock for a moment before the light in his eyes went out and he slid down the wall with a bloody trail on the wall behind him. The assassin looked at his cooling corpse for a moment before he grabbed the collar of his shirt, adjusted the grip on the knife and set to work.
[center]-=-=-[/center]Checking the image in his notes against the magic circle he has just 'drawn', the now-blood covered assassin nodded once to himself and he took a step back. His previous target's much paler corpse lay discarded a small distance away, and cold bullet casings lay strewn across the cold floor, two empty pistols discarded among them with teal fires still flickering intermittently across the floors and book cases. Looking over the battle-torn shop again, he retrieved his pistol, ejecting the empty magazine and loading a fresh one before he turned back to the magic circle, pulling out a small notebook from his pocket. His foot knocked against something, knocking it into the circle, but he ignored it as he reviewed his notes on the ritual and placed the book back into his pocket. Closing his eyes and taking a long breath, he lit one of his black cigarettes before opening his eyes and activating his magic circuits again with a strike of his lighter and a flicker of teal flame.

"Let's get this over with..."
[center]-=-=-[/center]As the light from circle died down, the first thing the assassin was the way the man at its centre seemed to personify the word 'hunter'. He was clad in a worn duster coat with a slim, weathered tricorn on his head and a cloth covering his face. Two belts crossed his torso, one across the waist and the over crossing from shoulder to hip, with loops and buckles for equipment to be stored. He had no weapons on his person, but the quiver of crossbow bolts at his waste seemed fairly indicative of his fighting style, with sheathes for blades and rudimentary firearms shedding more light on the man's versatility in combat. Finally, the man opened his eyes to reveal red-tinted hazel irises that soon meet with the black-haired assassin's stone grey.

"I am the Servant, Archer. I have come as summoned, so are you my Master?"

The assassin looked at the Servant, [i]his[/i] Servant, and the corner of his lips raised in a small smirk. He could feel a slight burning sensation coming from his left wrist but ignored it, remembering something about Command Seals.

"James Thorne. And I believe that I am."