The autumn sun persisted as the two pairs fought with one another on the hill. While their flashy and open conflict may have been feast for the eyes of those Masters who wished to learn more about the obstacles that lay in their warpath, it also posed a tremendous problem. The rules had been broken. In broad daylight, upon one of Sion's principle landmarks, battle was joined.

[i]Unacceptable,[/i] stirred the wind.

A presence overhead made itself known. It was not something that had been lurking in the sky unnoticed, but rather something that had moved into its position at tremendous speed, coalescing from a whisper into a trumpeting force as it went. Continuously filling with magical energy, the familiar unfolded. It was wind and breath, vapour and spirit. Still unseen, the spiritual body was held aloft far above Tourbillon.

For all those who observed the battle from a distance, the change was immediately noticeable. The flashing arrows and flying bodies were reduced to little more than blurry spots, barely distinguishable from the hillside. The only aspect of the battle that could still be clearly made out were the bursts of light from clashing weapons and magecraft, but even those were indistinct enough that they could have been small flames or electronic lights. The cause was not a magical illusion, but rather a physical effect brought about by heated air and swirling moisture. A curtain of obscuring wind rendered the events on the hill barely observable to the naked eye.

An electrical fire? A gas leak? The citizens of Sion, whose attention had been drawn to the hill at the centre of town, could no longer determine exactly what they were seeing.

With the events of the battle hidden from outsiders, the spirit in the sky rapidly descended, still casting out sheets of air as it moved. Those beyond the hill could surely discern its presence, but only the two pairs of Servants and Masters battling within the confines of the wind curtain could glimpse the appearance that began to take shape. As with the obscuring air, its visibility was nothing more than the presence of moisture and mist swirling about, but nonetheless a gangly, two-horned body became visible, with a beautiful woman's face poking out from a mess of vaporous hair.

It touched down at a high point on the hill, above the battle between the two warriors, further up towards the Castle than Tengoku had yet managed to reach in his assault. Yet, it was not blocking his path. It confronted the combatants of Tourbillon not with physical threat, but with judgment and authority.

"A few more hours of delay... Would it have been so much to ask..?" The voice hissed from the lips of the familiar.

Judging by the magical energy that swirled within the familiar, it was not on the level of a Servant. Yet, it was powerful. Of a grade beyond the likes of the sheep that Rider had mounted. It stood before all present without fear. Indeed, without any inclination or reaction at all. Even the sentiment of its words were not reflected in any expression or intent. It only conveyed its message in sighs and hisses.

"Stop this. We... who have so graciously hosted you all here... Will not tolerate this conduct." The spirit continued. "Master of Berserker... Take your Servant... and leave this place. Return at sundown, if you must."

Of course, even as the wind spirit offered those words, a beam of destruction flew past, and red arrows of certain death came in response. If Tengoku couldn't even survive long enough for a ceasefire to begin, then the issue would already be half-resolved.

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[i][b][center]The First Day. 15th of November, 2016. 12:02PM.[/center][/b][/i]
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The door to the chapel came open rather promptly at Rhodri's arrival. The one-armed clergyman regarded the Master with some curiosity before greeting him with a half-smile.

"You're the first." He spoke warmly. "Be welcome, both of you. Or..?"

Almost immediately, the priest frowned, seeming ready to correct himself. His attention was drawn down Valère hill, to the presences of soldiers that were moving about below. If the Master and Servant here were paying them no mind, then..?

"No, your Servant's abilities are your own affair. Please, pardon me."

With the door open wide, the priest stepped back into the shaded interior of the chapel. It was dim, but light filtered in through stained windows, and from the open door to the kitchen not far from the altar. The smell of hot tea wafted in the direction of the visitors. Modest wooden benches served as pews, standing in contrast to the brilliantly decorated white stone that made up the space itself.

"No need to worry about the nearby battle, for the time being. The matter is being handled by our host. Or, she's taking the lead, at the least." He frowned. "Anyway. Tea?"

The kitchen in the chapel was unsurprisingly modest, and the tea and confections were clearly cheap, store-bought items. Nonetheless, there was a certain quiet dignity to the meagre spread that had been prepared. It was the offering of a man who had neither pride nor shame in his actions.

"I'm glad someone's decided to pay me a visit, to make themselves known. If certain participants continue to cross the line, I hope I can count on the good sportsmanship of you and the rest to set things right."

What exactly was he offering? The priest didn't elaborate. Just as the barest hint of some deeper intention had been exposed, he snuffed it out with a cheerful smile.

"Ah, but I forgot to introduce myself. Sorry about that, friend! I'm [i]Sebastiano Bianchi[/i] of the Holy Church. I'll be overseeing this Holy Grail War as a neutral party, so don't hesitate to rely on me if you decide to give up!"

That had been his weak attempt at a joke, it seemed.

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The deepest reaches of Valère's construction were pitch-black, cramped, and filled with stale air. These were disused areas and the pieces of negative space behind walls and beneath stairs. Things that could hardly be called [i]rooms,[/i] with no connection to the outside world. Not even small animals nested within. It would take four uses of [i]Traceless Traversal[/i] to pass through such spaces before finally reaching something that seemed to be linked to the actively in-use sections of the Basilica above.

As with the previous rooms, this cellar lacked any windows, and Jerome would have desperately needed a light source had he lacked his particular arts of navigation. However, a small amount of light did filter in from the edges of the hatch at the top of the stairs. It was locked from the other side, seemingly.

The cellar itself was musty and quiet, with large shelves lining the walls. The items present seemed entirely basic: cans of paint, bags of road salt, spare clothing... Only the broken glass stood out as unusual. There was a great deal of it, piled up near certain empty shelves, accompanied by the faded smell of wine. Not a single bottle remained intact.

Muffled voices sounded from above, along with a strong presence of magical energy. A Servant was just one floor above Jerome, along with others.

Indeed, the hatch to the cellar lay on the floor of a pantry in the chapel's kitchen, where Sebastiano had just invited Rhodri and Second Archer for tea. At that distance, a loud noise or the use of noticeable magecraft had the potential to spell disaster for the thief... Nonetheless, the meeting overhead proceeded smoothly, for the time being.

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[@eugalB][@Crusader Lord][@SSW][@Ducksworth][@Yukitamas][@GOATPlumber]