[center][b]Hamel Della Astrologia
[i]Swamp, Outskirts of Fuyuki[/i][/b][/center]

Before any response could be formulated, but just after Hamel’s mouth had opened in protest, a tidal wave of brackish water and muck had exploded under the sheer force released by Lancer’s mighty leap. Forced onto his back, as he shakily rose to his knees he sputtered out a stream of incoherent words along with the foul mixture that had entered every pore and orifice openly available. 

Forcing the last of the swamp muck out, he took a shaky breath as he rose to full height.

It was tempting to simply use some magecraft to dry out and clean his clothing, but he had better self control in that regard, and besides, his workshop wasn’t too far away so he could simply grab a new change of clothing there and freshen up without a chance of exposing himself, no matter how unlikely it may be. 

He would take no chance, not yet anyways. He had spent a week preparing an advantageous battlefield, but improvements could always be made. 

An exaggerated sigh escaped the confines of his thoughts, and a grimace stretched across his visage as he was familiarized with the disgusting taste of decay. 

Much improvements would need to be made, Lancer was a free spirit, and as tempting as it may be to spend a Command Spell to force upon him a more defensive strategy, Lancer was correct. 

Hamel had indeed seen his servant’s skills, and there was no doubt within his mind that Lancer will indeed be fine. 

There was a war to win, and though their preference in methodologies may differ, Hamel had absolute faith in Lancer’s ability to win the Holy Grail. 

A quick check up on Lancer showed him peacefully spearing the local aquatic fauna in the Fuyuki river, something that assuaged Hamel’s nerves as he arrived at his destination.

Changing out of his ruined clothing into a new set of clothes after an extensive cleansing, Hamel had gingerly grasped what appeared to be a black stave, runes engraved into the surface of the polished wood.

Part of him cursed his foolishness for bringing in only a single mystic code, but it was too late now for regrets. Beside, it was matter of convenience rather than that of necessity. 

But no matter.

Hamel grabbed his stave as he stormed out his abode, into Shinto. He was in needs of some supplies, and perhaps a drink will clear his head of worries. 

[@SageAge]