[center][h1][color=darkred]James Hartnet[/color][/h1]
[h3]Urquhart Castle[/h3]
Interactions: Archer of Red [@vFear]
Mana Remaining: 210/210
[/center]

As James stood in front of the silver and bloodied circle that would summon his Servant, literally recreating a person from history long since past, he couldn't help but reflect on the events that had happened to lead up to this point. The heist, being given his Catalyst, the flight over, the insufferable coach ride and then breaking into Urquhart castle itself, during which, Multiple times, had to guide the blind girl Morgana so that she didn't step too far and compromise the group, and then penultimately painting the summoning circles on the grounds of the courtyard.

His Catalyst was light in his hands, wrapped carefully in protective materials to prevent damage, and yet the heaviest object he could have ever of held in his life. It was a solid reminder of what he was here to do, what they were [b][i]all[/i][/b] here to do. He didn't know why exactly the others were taking part, nor did he even care, but the fact of the matter was that everyone present was so to strike back at the half-masked bastard gracing himself with the name Arieh Ayondale. He let out an involuntary growl at the thought of the man, but quickly reigned it in with the memory of his lover's advice. He couldn't lose himself now, not on the edge of something this important... That wasn't to say he didn't have his own ideas on how he'll be playing this Holy Grail War though. He wasn't just going to sit around with a stolen Heroic spirit, a living death machine by modern Magus standards, as an act of defiance; he was going to take his war directly to the vile man's doorstep, and he wouldn't be the only one judging by the looks on some of his fellow Master's faces, the older girl Sonja in particular.

He watched as the first three stepped up to summon their servants; Lancer, Berserker and then Caster. He unwrapped his own Catalyst, a fragment of the original letter left by Balthasar Gerard addressed to the Prince of Parma, now brittle and hardened with age before placing it down in the centre of the circle and took a hissing breath though his teeth before he began the chant that would change everything and fully cement his revenge.

[center][b][i][color=darkred]"Let silver and steel be the essence.
Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation.
Let my will be the path that you follow.
Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall.
Let the four cardinal gates close.
Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate.

Let it be declared now;
your flesh shall serve under me, and my fate shall be with your sword.
Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail.
Answer, if you would submit to this will and this truth.

An oath shall be sworn here.
I shall attain all virtues of all of Heaven;
I shall have dominion over all evils of all of Hell.

From the Seventh Heaven, attended to by three great words of power,
come forth from the ring of restraint, protector of the holy balance!"[/color][/i][/b][/center]

As the light spilled from the circle and wind began to whip across him, he quickly raised a hand to cover his eyes while the other held onto the strap of his Mystic Code, slung across his back within quick reach should he need it. A toothy smirk, close to an almost savage grin, broke across his face as the light began to fade, until it had dimmed enough for him to lower his hand. A single soft laugh, almost cruel and expectant, escaped his throat and he produced an engraved lighter and a single black cigarette from his pocket. Lighting up the black stick of tobacco, he placed it between his lips and took a long drag before slowly blowing out a long trail of smoke as he looked at the figure in front of him. Tonight, The Servant Archer had joined the Holy Grail War.