[h1]Team Black: Johann (C3), Meeting[/h1]

A faraway dream. A foggy memory. A blurry vision of the future. Unclear, confused. A tendril of thought reaches out in the mists of unconsciousness, and connects.

One eye opens in reality, and two in the dream.

With quiet ease, an eyepatch-wearing maid slips into the hollowed-out warehouse. A soft voice speaks, halting and slightly broken.

“Greetings. This one greets you all in the name of my master.” A small bow, as her eye quickly takes in the surroundings. She views the map that Caster rolls out and his declaration of where the base would be located, and nods.

“This one’s master is the Master of Saber. Due to circumstances, he has elected to remain hidden until a proper base of operations is created for this team. We shall meet again at Caster’s territory.” With that and no more words said, she backs away and disappears into the night, the sound of hoofbeats suddenly audible before vanishing just as quickly.

The dream fades. The tendril vanishes.

-

[h2]Team Black: Sigurd, Berlin Cathedral[/h2]

“Well, here we are, Master.” An imposing figure sits atop a horse with a much smaller figure sitting in front of him in the saddle. The smaller one, a white haired boy who seems as though he has taken a nap on the large grey mare, slumps forward with the movement of the horse. “Whoa there, careful now. Mind taking care of him, you lot?” At his words, a pair of maids steps off of the large wooden board tied to the horse in some bastardized approximation of a sled, one pulling a wheelchair off of the sled and the other taking the white-haired boy into her arms to put into the chair.

After the Master is settled in and comfortable, the horse vanishes and leaves behind the sled with the rest of its occupants. A group of five taking positions around the Master as one of the first two who got off pushes the wheelchair while the other, who looks similar enough to pass off as the same, perhaps a twin, picks up the large board used as a sled.

“All that’s left is to knock.” A fierce grin spreads across Sigurd’s face as he steps up to the edge of the Bounded Field. 

“Knock-” A fist winds back-

“Knock.”

It flies forward.