[h1][color=00aeef]Ernest LaCreux[/color][/h1]

[h2]Western Fuyuki Roadside, Near the Forest[/h2]

It had all happened so fast. The bird fluttered within view of Nimrod just in time for Ernest's deepest fears to be realized. The magus' vision, shared with his familiar, fell upon Lancer and the strange, dark-haired man, and as Ernest saw the man's hand pierce his Servant's heart, he felt a bolt of anguish spike through his own chest. As the eyes of the dove met the cold, empty eyes of the mysterious, terrifying figure before it, Ernest felt his veins freeze. Then came a blinding flash.


As his vision returned to his own eyes, Ernest felt the pit of despair in his stomach expand to consume his whole being. There was no mistaking what had happened. His Servant was gone, all his hopes had been decimated in the first night of the war. The blank gaze of the black-haired man was burned into the magus' mind. That wasn't a Servant... truth be told he had no idea what that man was. Not that it mattered. What mattered was Lancer was gone. Ernest sat, frozen for a moment, his eyes peering blankly into the forest, the gravity of what had just occurred ricocheting through his body. In what seemed to be a stupor, he turned away from the forest, closing the door of the limousine. He was a Master with no Servant now, and whatever it was that had killed Nimrod, he had no chance against it. He was in danger, but no adrenaline coursed through his veins. No, he was still in shock. His reactions now were automatic, mechanical, his mind was far, far away. The words slipped loosely from his mouth. [color=00aeef]“T-the Church... To the Church.”[/color] The wheels of the limousine began to roll.


Ernest sat in baffled silence in the back seat of the vehicle. A shaking hand slid into the breast pocket of his jacket, withdrawing a gold-plated lighter and a single cigar. Trembling, he brought the cigar to his mouth and lit it, taking a deep inhale of the pungent smoke. He seemed remarkably calm, considering what he had just witnessed, but in truth his mind was far away. He remembered something someone had once told him...


[color=92278f]“I tol' ya when I first metcha boy, ya set to lose, always have been. It's someting you've got to understan', child. To be you is to lose, it's part of who ya are. The mos' 'portant part. Your 'sociation would call it ya Origin child, and ya Origin is Loss. No sense in cryin' over it, or fightin' 'gainst it. It won't change.”[/color]


Ernest shivered. No. It couldn't be over so easily. [i]But it was.[/i] It was all over, just as quickly as it had begun. His Servant was gone. His hopes of claiming the Grail were gone. His only way of bringing her back, of being happy again, of being the man he used to be: all gone. The mage slammed his cane against the floor of the limousine. [color=00aeef]“Damn it...”[/color] The lit cigar smoked in his tremoring hand. [color=00aeef]“Is this really all that's meant for me? To fail?”[/color] The tremor grew stronger.

[color=00aeef]“IS THIS ALL THERE IS?!”[/color] He slammed the cane into the floorboard again. [color=00aeef]“To lose?[/color]” He slumped against the window, watching the lights of the city pass by. [color=00aeef]“Marie...”[/color]

[h2]Outside the Church[/h2]

The rest of the ride was spent in crushed silence. The limousine finally came to a slow stop, and Ernest half-stumbled out of the vehicle, steadying himself with his cane. He slowly began his trek up toward the Church, eyes unfocused, occasionally taking a long drag from his cigar. The limousine's engine died behind him. The Thrall still sat inside. That was fine, it didn't need new commands now. 

Ernest came to a stop near the front doors of the Church and grit his teeth before taking a deep breath. [color=00aeef]“I've lost my Servant. I've come here seeking... sanctuary.”[/color] The word felt wrong. What sanctuary was there now? Had it all been for naught? Was he truly bound to this fate? He waited for reply at the door of the Church.

[@Moonlit Sonata]