[@Dosthou] [@Undyingregret] [@addamas]
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[h1]Southern Moor Shinto[/h1][/center]

Mmhm.

What a strange town this is.

"This is your land, right? Well, maybe not this city itself, but this island as a whole." He asked the opinion of his servant as he walked. The words he exchanged with her were surprisingly devoid of their business, other than a brief introduction of his purpose, of Atlas and a few requests he mainly had been asking about inconsequential things such as her thoughts on certain things they saw such as cars, or even the snacks peddled on the streets in what few places were still open as they passed by. Traveling in Shinto, New City, it was certainly busier than the western half of Miyama that was host to all that chaos. So there were a few things to spark up some idle thought.

While visiting the ground zero of all the happenings seemed like the most logical of things, the lack of accessible mana in many places of the city, along with the pollution of the river he noticed interested him first of all. He doubt that the problems of Miyama would disappear before they could be analyzed, so he went chasing trails that were a bit older before they were completely washed away.

As for his servant herself. Well, he had a few choices that he had been debating between. A slayer of heroes, a slayer of monsters, a great leader of men, or even a insightful detective.

In the end he decided to go with something native. A hero who slayed the threats to Japan, who overcame mysteries and great monsters. In a sense it could also be said that she overcame herself. It seemed a good choice then for this investigation that would have the potential of opposing a countless number of legends. Both that of heroes and monsters. 

Well, it didn’t quite turn out the way he expected, but it was something he ended up taking up in stride. Perhaps it was only natural with his origin that she’d end up summoned at this fork in her life. Perhaps he’d get to see which path she walks down. But there was no real time for leisure either. Little or not, immature or mature as long as they would complete their mission there was no real problem.

A master who did not chase after the grail. There was a strange air to him as an investigator and intruder both in this ritual. But that air always came from him. It simply so happened that it was most definitely a correct impression. Even now with a hero summoned he seemed to take things rather casually. Perhaps there was no use trying to surprise a member of the Giant's Pit who could put to form the events of the future in their minds. But how long would that last in a war such as this? To begin with there were too many things for him to take into consideration. He had done his research into the city and been given some information, but there were too many factors unknown for him to map a concrete image or prediction.

Only one way to fix that.

“I think that whoever who did that work did it expecting visitors. While a head-on assault might be a bit silly… well, it’s a good test for sure. “

Narrowing down the possible location of the party that added their poisons to the river, analyzing the taint and substance with Idris, taking it into Saber’s blade. He felt prepared enough for a fight, and certainly had enough of a trail to find the lair of this magus or servant.

It was a means that was leaning towards bruteforce to simply enter another’s territory or hideaway looking for a fight. But with a Saber it was as good a method as any to get the information he needed. Tonight was a hunt, of the poisoner of the river.

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[h1][center]In The [s]Woods [/s]Lumbermill[/center][/h1]

GRgrgrgr, hrg.. Haaaaaaah!”

The king shouted at his vassals and soldiers despite being unable to speak, and having servants that could not hear. To begin with there was no need for verbal instruction.

Nor was there a need for the helmets of the immortals to be changed into hardhats. But they were, with even Darius wearing one of his own.

During his adventures, scouting and pillaging through the city he came across a man who held such a hardhat, taking a break from the work on the hotsprings that was now the host to the meeting of the various masters of the war. Instead of throwing it into the door he instead took it, recognizing its worth and purpose as it was.

So he was using it quite properly as a good young boy does, following the rules. A workplace needed proper protection for all the workers, even the managers.	 

Another tree fell.

In short the pillaging of the Persian Empire turned upon the land itself. The forest around the church was being slowly converted into magical energy, tree after tree chopped down and pushed into the door by the working soldiers.

While he had magical energy to spare due to the spear of Achilles it was important to gain even more. This was indeed a means and method of a king, not a hero, who encompasses an entire realm and works on a different scale.

Still no matter how macabre a lumbermill of the undead was, it was in the end just a lumbermill.

What a silly thing.