Fate/Lost Moonlight

War Entry 13: London Night Rendezvous

Owain Leomachus Gorgonsor gazed out of the window of the plane that was currently taking him to London. The darkness of the night was more encapsulating than he was used to, which made the cozy lights of the cityscape pop that much more. It was less harsh by order of magnitudes than modern LED lighting that kept the gloom away in the 21st century, the restrained modesty of the fluorescent glow stirring a nostalgia deep inside his being that he'd never been particularly aware of until this point. Nor could he quite puzzle out why he was feeling it even as the mysterious longing for these bygone days filled his thoughts with whimsical daydreams of this past era.

He knew this much at least: he'd definitely taken the right course of action.

He'd been quick to abscond to the nearest airport the moment he realized where he was. He might not have been native to this era, but he knew Britain well. London ever moreso. Here, he and his Servant alike had the lay of the land, a solid homefield advantage, and the knowledge to use their good fortune to its maximum extent.

He smiled. Truly, everything would work out. They could survive this round. He just needed to play his cards right, and ensure the Clocktower threw their lot in with the Blue Faction.

The city bustled below, full of life and movement. His green eyes focused on the Clock Tower in the distance, where he and Morelo would soon swerve this war firmly in the favour of the Blue Faction.

His Servant, Artoria Pendragon Alter, was in her spirit form, invisibly hovering just behind him. Owain's reflection in the window revealed the three draconic wings forming a triskelion that served as his Command Spells. He briefly glanced at his Servant's reflection, noticing her dark armor and expression of determination.

"The other factions are surely making their own moves to cement a strong foundation for this Grail War, no doubt," Owain said, his detached demeanor barely concealing the concern he felt. "It's crucial that we act swiftly, Artoria. The future of humanity hangs in the balance."

"I understand, Master. Rest assured, I shall devote my full strength to our shared goal." Artoria affirmed, solemnly.

Owain sighed, turning away from the window.

"Good. I'm aware of the sacrifices you've made, Artoria. I fear that I may ask much of you before this war is done... if so... then I apologize for bringing that upon you."

"No apologies are necessary, Master. Our paths have converged for a reason. I, too, wish to see a brighter future for humanity." She said sternly, her voice authoritative, heavy with the weight of her convictions, her sheer thirst for victory in this conflict.

Their conversation was interrupted as the transport began to descend, nearing the conclusion of the flight. While Owain was grateful for the near conclusion of their journey.... an airport landing, and subsequent trek to the Clocktower from the landing strip, would waste time. Time that was at a premium during these early hours.

So Owain got up, and began walking over to the nearest exit.

"Lancer, would you kindly open the door?"

He didn't bother turning his head to gaze at the astonished passengers. The cold night air beckoned to him, and he leapt without a second thought, turning around in freefall to see Lancer close the door before jumping down herself, controlling the descent through her 'Invisible Air' Noble Phantasm.

"I was wondering when you'd hop out?" Owain heard Morello call out, his voice carried on the wind.

"I suppose your Servant has detected where I am?"

"You suppose right, Gorgonsor. We'll be right over, so make yourself presentable, and try to keep around the clouds. Wouldn't want the Mages Association to start on the wrong foot because we made a big show of our arrival."

Owain couldn't argue with that. So, he straightened his dark blue tuxedo and slicking back his gray hair, and prepared to touch down on the doorstep of the Clocktower.

***

"Well, we've made good time, haven't we?" Morelo jested, a nervous air about the duo as they walked as naturally into the Clocktower as they could. So far unnoticed, or uncared for, by those defenses and sentinels which watched over the most illustrious institute of Magecraft within the modern world.

Owain didn't respond, his thoughts squarely affixed to his goal: to change the course of humanity, to prevent its inevitable self-destruction. He knew that achieving this would require drastic measures, but the alternative was extinction. He steeled himself for the challenges that lay ahead, knowing that he and Artoria must succeed.

"I hope you're ready, Morelo," Owain said, determination etched across his face. "We must not waver. The fate of the world is in our hands."

Morelo nodded, his expression equally resolute, albeit far more snidely. "I can't say I share your ideals... but whatever. My family stands to gain no matter how this round finishes. If you do win though, just be sure to give due credit to the great Morelo Vascuit when you tell the story to the unwashed masses."

Owain shrugged off his comrade's bravado. Continuing down the hallways of the Clocktower without a single utterance that might feed his colleagues ego.

And so, together, they ventured into the Clocktower, ready to confront whatever obstacles lay in their path. With Artoria by his side, Owain believed they stood a fighting chance. Only time would tell if their efforts would be enough to change the course of history.

***

"Arthur's arrived"

That felt right to the red headed Mage. It had been a few hours since the start of the war, and his circumstantial companion's surveillance abilities were far beyond the scope of most Mages of this era, especially when it concerned the King of Knights. Considering their capabilities, and the apparent pedigree of the Master who'd called the ancient king forth, it hadn't surprised him in the slightest that they'd made good time.

"Excellent. Ensure they reach this office without interruption. Soon, we'll have some choice allies and instigators to use as we see fit. At last, we'll be able to sick the resources of the Clocktower upon the other Grail War factions, all in one fell swoop."

"You seem excited, husband..."

"Perhaps," he admitted, taking a sip of tea that warmed his chilled bones. "The situation has already devolved far more rapidly than either of us could've expected. Our mere participation was already a sign that the Supervisor has no clue what he's gotten himself into. And now..."

The woman who'd dubbed herself his wife laughed lightly, controlled, haughtiness. A small creaking of amusement at the absurd facts at hand.

"Go on, husband. What is it that so captivates your mind?"

"Victory... success... it'll be nice to secure a clear win and staunch our bad fortune somewhat. We're long overdue for such anyhow. What about you? I would've thought you'd be more.... interested... in seeing the Once and Future King again?"

She scoffed at that.

"Don't make assumptions on matters you know scant little about, human. They are not as they should be. Nor am I for that matter. Only time will tell how we get along now that they've been sullied."

"Let's hope that you'll get along better now than you two did in life and legend. It would be a shame if our plans suffered because of something so petty as old wounds left to languish without treatment."

She frowned at that gibe.

"And you would be well served taking the current situation more seriously. Or do you wish to die a second time?"

He shrugged at that. Taking another sip to warm his cold body. He chose not to respond, letting his companion sulk away at her leisure.

"Everything is coming together. Now then, who will make the next move?"