[center][h2]Renaud de Guiscard[/h2][/center]
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Renaud eventually woke up from his collapse, still clutching Caster's strange charm. He certainly felt rejuvinated: he could not dispute its power of healing. All fatigue was gone, and he was filled with energy once more. He was somewhat in awe of what he was holding, in fact: he had seen many ancient and treasured magic items in both his family's possession and the Clock Tower's, and this was easily the equal of any of them. And she had simply given this doll that emanated power like a beacon to him like it was nothing. Truth be told, he was a bit annoyed that she had given him it, as if to patronize him, her master. And even worse, he knew the real reason he was annoyed was that she dwarfed his skill as a magus in every way. Perhaps it would have been better to have summoned a Berserker or a Lancer instead? It might have spared his ego.

It might also have spared himself some bad dreams. He wasn't sure [i]what[/i] he had seen - glimpses of fire and death, nothing good - and he found himself wondering whether a link to any servant would give such unsettling nightmares, or if it was unique to Takiyashahime. Her war had ended in ignominious defeat, he knew: hopefully, his own line wouldn't meet the same miserable end as hers.

When he shook off from himself those melancholic thoughts, he found a special small box among the many that had been brought up. He opened it, revealing a number of small bones inscribed with runic carvings. He grasped them gingerly. The Scepter might be his family's most treasured possession, but these were certainly their oldest. These were no chicken bones, though the uneducated observer might not recognize that fact: these belonged to creatures that had not walked the earth for over a thousand years. 

Divination was an art that many magi shunned, for good reason. Whether it was augury, haruspicy, or his own specialty of scapulimancy, those that tried to read the fates rarely met with success. Answers were often vague and unhelpful; if you could even read the answer, it was incredibly difficult to discern the true meaning, as divination magic seemed to have a twisted sense of humor. Even as talented as he was in this art - he was certainly the best he knew, better even than his mother - he had to proceed carefully and know the limitations. Attempts to discern one own's fate never ended well, he knew, so he would studiously avoid inquiring of his own future... directly, in any case.

"Wyrd bið ful aræd", he muttered as he held the bones in his hands. [i]Fate is inexorable[/i]. He felt a small stream of mana imbue on the bones, and he felt the runes reciprocate the connection. Most oracles you could find worked their power this way, imbuing mana into conduits to reveal the fates - those that weren't charlatans, of course. Naturally most did not truly comprehend what they were doing. 

Neither did his ancient ancestors, the shamans of the north. Much as his family liked to imagine themselves refined and noble, this was their dark secret: They were descendents of fur wearing savages who sailed south in longships to reave and conquer Europe. Les Normands. The Guiscards brushed that truth under the rug, and pretended as if they were always aristocrats living in palaces, and creating refined artifacts like the Scepter as if to solidify that identity, but these bones were the true power of his lineage. He muttered the old norse words, and threw the bones on the hotel room floor, the motion calculated and precise to the smallest twitch. 

"Caster Takiyashahime has gone to secure the Sako shrine," he intoned with a steady, clear, and confident voice. "I implore the spirits of my ancestors, show me what tapestry the Norns weave."

The bones landed, bounced, and bounced on still, continuing on as if possessed. Finally, they were still, spread out across the room. This was then the hardest part. He had to read the runes, and from their positioning and orientations, discover what meaning could be found, if there was in fact meaning to be found at all.

His apprehension grew as he reasoned the message behind the bones, his fears becoming more and more real as he became more sure in their meaning. Finally, he had it. Probably. [i]The conflict will begin at the holy site, and the great spirits will clash[/i]. He cursed and jumped to his feet, throwing on his dress coat, and only taking a minute to ensure his appearance was proper before rushing out the door. 

This was bad. Caster class servants were not suited to one on one combat, he knew, and typically relied on entrenching themselves. That had been the plan, for her to set up a connection at the shrine and draw mana from the dead there. But this was too soon. If Caster was about to fight another servant now, or if she was already fighting - 

He raced down the hall, dialing his servants as he ran. He had to go salvage what he could, or risk losing before he even truly began.



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[center][h2]G E N G H I S[/h2][img]https://i.imgur.com/3FuTvpI.png[/img][/center]

[i]Not bad,[/i] Genghis thought as he admired the machine in front of him. [i]Not bad at all.[/i] He could find no fault in the resourcefulness of the Huang.

He did not know where the Witch had found the black motorcycle on such short notice, and he didn't really care. It was a fine machine. Not as good as a steppe horse, of course; a proper mount was less a partner than a tool, whereas a mechanical contraption such as this was cold and heartless. But as he sat down and held the throttle, he knew that this could work. With a Riding skill as impressive as his, he could push it to its ultimate limit, and then some. 

It also helped that it would keep him incognito. He had even foregone his sable coat for riding leathers of the modern day, which should also help keep his identity hidden. He also had to admit he liked the clothing. Practical with nothing superfluous, that's how he liked it. Also, he looked damn good in it. He grinned, put on his glasses, and fired off from the garage, accelerating down the road like a rocket. 

Where to? Well, he would go to where the other servants were. There was the Church, but it was neutral and inviolate. Fighting there was strictly forbidden.

So of course, he thundered along the street in the direction of the Church. Time to kick things off.